[ Silly boy. Cook up enough hokey pretenses and he can serve it with another fillet, carve up his own intent to sear-fry from now until the end of time. Sometimes the most radical thing to do when facing down a crisis is nothing at all, while this melodrama of his own making plays out, reeling like a roll of film. Jealousy's just pulp fiction for the soul, irrational to no end, and twice as selfish for it.
Even subjected to all of this confidence-breaking irreverence, Ignis folds. Perhaps worst of all, he wants to fold— subjecting himself to the careful sprawl of Noctis's fingers, closing around him like they close around his heart. Contemptibly, he leans into his palm, and the soft pressure's just an extension of the rest of Noctis, quiet and modest and so inversely moved to emotional outbursts.
And Ignis remains beholden to him, caving easily to the prince and his erroneous appeals, like he wouldn't love him just as much if he'd championed his affections with someone else. Any lifetime where Noct goes off and finds happiness is a good one, even if the situation isn't at all dire and he's got no retort but the one that humors his question, tender as his grip on him. ]
Only you. [ Most terrifying is that resolution, when he cuts the bullshit and the stiff-shouldered replies and gives in to the suggestion of heat, eyes closed, plate cleaned off, the fan whirring distantly over their heads. ] It would always be you. I don't think you know the lengths I'd go to ensure your wellbeing. I'd give up a good deal to keep you safe.
[ And more selfishly, claiming dominion of his love, but in his defense, he's a rather contemptible man already, well and truly overcome, but Noctis knows that, reigns with a steel vice-grip over him, feebleminded arguments aside. ]
So no, I can't afford to be patient when I'm positively green with envy. Though, I am a touch less exasperated than I'd have you believe.
[ Here is my heart, Ignis seems to say, when he leans over and gives of himself, making Noctis' breath catch, do as you wish with it. He doesn't look away from the intense green of his eyes when he confesses, at least not at first, before a sense of bashfulness makes him turn away, ears pink with the sentiment so bluntly heard and proclaimed. Ignis cannot be patient when he's envious, when Noctis is his only weakness and Ignis tells him how much he would give up for his sake.
He doesn't need him to do that, not when he's here in his hold, looking at him like he's the only person that matters. Noctis might reign in his heart, but Ignis holds similar sway in his own, and while he might not be nearly as articulate as Ignis, smooth and sleek and with a vocabulary that can enrage and titillate in equal measure, it's no less honest. ]
I love you. [ He says bluntly, because it's true, because it's all that he has that is truly his own, and not of the crown. It's terrifying, what he feels for him, all that rests on Ignis' shoulders. His love, his want, how he sees no one else but him, which would surely spell disaster if Ignis is ever gone from his side. ] Only you.
[ The shine and shimmer of others flitting about Noctis, drawn to his name, his position, are ultimately inconsequential -- they see nothing beyond the surface, and Ignis, Ignis has been there for the best and worst of him, and yet he's still here, giving him all that he has to offer anyway; so how can he possibly have eyes for any other? Ignis, his weakness, so perhaps it's fitting that he becomes his chamberlain's own, too -- mutually assured destruction of a sort, except it wouldn't come to that, he hopes. He leans over to kiss him, lips soft, tentative against his, and he tastes the flavor of the fish, even more delicious from his lips. ]
[ He's out of his element, like a fish out of water; he's only got so much slipperiness to his artifice until Noctis torches that so easily, comes forward and then away, away, momentarily shy. What's really eating at Ignis is that lit match Noct's apparently set to his insides with that phone call, torching him into something fervid and prone to terrible outbursts like these. Ignis the better intellectual between the two of them when he's this emotionally-motivated.
The answer's slow to come, but no less molten, when their mouths span in a kiss, and Noct's driving his inhibitions up a wall. He wasn't really cut out for mourning the possible death of his relationship, so he's no less suave championing it, when he retracts his head just so and reaches up to smudge away at the corner of his mouth. ]
That isn't very wise, admittedly.
[ Loving such a horrid man like him will do Noct no good later, when he outgrows his chamberlain for someone who won't crumple coffee cans to bits at the sight of temptation, but that's how it goes. Noctis never does what's best for himself, impulsive and emphatic and too kind for his own good. A man after Ignis's own heart.
Ignis's expression lifts out of obscurity with that smile on him. In the interim, his fingers drop to the table, drumming and rueful, caving into fitfulness. ]
I do love you the most. More than anything or anyone else. [ Dearly, then worse still, spoiling him and entertaining stunts like ill-advised forays into mine shafts. ] I suspect that's half of the problem.
[ If only the curse of it hadn't spread to the extent of nearly ruining their relationship, throwing a conniption fit over something that isn't there. It's not that he doesn't trust Noct, but he doesn't have much faith for those around him— and himself, more often than not. Even Ignis can't predict the extent of his own vengeance when fully realized, insofar as Noctis is personally concerned. All that collateral damage wrought for the sake of one person. It's a terrifying thought.
From right underneath their noses comes the retrieval of his plate, whisked away to the sink to endure the duress of dish soap and a scrubber. He can scrounge up enough belief that Noctis can bring up his own plate when he's well and ready; can't keep treating him like a child, even if he insists on acting like one from time to time (so he isn't really over Noct's death-defying fall this evening, not at all). ]
That's all I'll berate you for today. You're welcome to tend to other things as soon as you've finished supper.
[ No, Ignis is definitely not over it, because with the assuagement of Noctis' love comes the irritation that's been simmering underneath the surface, and Ignis is primly leaving him to his own devices, taking his angst out on the innocent plate. ]
What's the other half of the problem?
[ Noctis asks, ever curious as he polishes up his food and approaches him. Censure over for tonight, it's Noctis' turn to keep pushing the envelope, wanting to dig into just how Ignis is feeling, to smooth over the ragged spots because this is how he's always been, because despite his willful ways he still desires to please, and in this case, he wants to please Ignis. And it definitely won't do to have him in a snit when Noctis is still thrumming from his victorious high off an exciting adventure in a mine shaft. The adrenaline is slow to dissipate, and he steps in closer than he should when his boyfriend/guardian/companion/confidant/adviser/chamberlain is still feeling quite poorly from the events of the evening. ]
I think wise is overrated.
[ He says archly, because it's just like Ignis to overthink and work himself into a rightful snit, right? ] You know, you could stand to be a dumbass once in awhile. Well, dumbass in a good way, not in a jerk way. Less thinking, more doing.
[ No, he's not over it. He's hemorrhaging at his own values, maddeningly picking them apart, trying to keep up an anger that's only partially immersed him. The rest of him is profiled against the sink and the clutter of tableware, very abrasive with the cleaning brush and scrubber, but gentler with the dishes to avoid scratches. There's the dishwasher and the convenience found in tossing the whole wreck on the racks and calling it a day, but he's down for some self-masochism tonight, which just entails scrubbing the dishes until he's scoured himself into the sort of stupor that causes young men to fling themselves down mine shafts, or smashing his own fingers to bits from the exertion. Whatever comes first. ]
I feel like a good one already.
[ No man is perfect. Anything can be ascribed values and logic, but they're all relative to the matter. Ignis does what he must, which in most cases, is only what he can. Carefully setting the platter he's currently working on, Ignis takes the dish he's handed, which he also sets down in favor of subjecting Noct to an open rupture of a kiss, his soapy hands leaving damp prints around the prince's forearms when Ignis executes the storming mood in him, forsakes it outright.
Afterwards, the synchronism between his words and his behavior's broken, both prim and heavily panting when leaning back, eyes daring censure. ]
How I absolutely wouldn't be able to fare well without you, if you were gone. That's the other half of it. The least you could do is bring me with you the next time you decide to be so incredibly reckless.
[ So he can be selfish. So he can be every bit as selfish as Noctis under the right circumstances. ]
[ Of the many half-baked, ludicrous answers that Noctis had been entertaining in his head -- each and every one so pointedly not Ignis that it had been a futile endeavor to even consider it -- he hadn't been expecting that.
Which is stupid, because this is such a fundamental, powerful part of Ignis; an immense, obvious answer hiding in plain sight. He opens up to the kiss when Ignis grips him, a testament to his love for him that he doesn't ask why, only simply opens up and presses his tongue back to his, stepping into his circle as he meets him halfway, laving at the rupture of his emotion, raw and potent and overwhelming.
Ignis is a storm, rough and fierce and passionate, the truth of his words rendering Noctis speechless for a moment, taken aback. Of course. Of course. Ignis jealousy of the firefighters, while a big part of it, had not been the main part. It goes deeper than that, right to the day they had first met and Ignis had been his only friend. His oldest, only friend until Prompto came alone, and even if Ignis has Noctis' heart, some things don't die easily.
Not that Noctis can't commiserate, if his blistering opinion of Ignis' past perceived fancies is any indication. Noctis, who quietly hates when something takes Ignis away from him, understands with full clarity. There is no censure to be dispensed when the kiss ends, and Noctis looks hazy for a moment, just a moment, licking his lips as if chasing the warmth of his kiss, wanting it to have lasted just a little longer. ]
I'm sorry. [ He says at last, apology given freely in the face of Ignis' truth, laid out before him, plain and simple, and he closes the distance between them, daubs of water on his forearms where Ignis' hold had been. ] You know I never want to be without you. [ His love, his light; the idea of Ignis languishing without him makes his heart ache, and when he kisses him back again, it's infinitely more gentle. ]
I'll take you with me the next time we go ghost hunting in an abandoned mine shaft. Or anywhere else. [ Noctis murmurs against his lips, his arm creeping to curl around his waist. ] Does this mean you want us to be reckless together?
[ Because the truth's ridiculous, when pettiness itself is one great big pretense for the longing that roils and roils in him. He's just marking time once Noct's drawn back at last, mystified. All he needs to do is just look at Ignis in earnest to see how jealousy devours him. Venting his frustrations on the dishes with punishing severity is brainless logic; ceramic can only take so much pressure before it'll crack, just like him, snapping out retorts that brutalize the silence that follows in its wake. He's just asking for the slap that inexplicably doesn't come seeking him out when Noctis's fingers cinch around him instead, angled just shy of his belt.
Brandishing all the discontent a jilted lover can possess with a sudsy sponge in one hand, Ignis sighs, a quiet echo against his ribs. ]
Don't apologize, Noct. I was far too rash.
[ Should've just left Ignis to stew over coffee stains once he'd chewed him out then make a bid at penitence. But it's that painful susceptibility to competition in him (as if he'd love Noctis any less, even with another man in the arrangement) that's riling its head now. The fear of inadequacy, rearing to bite. The ensuing kiss is all the more visceral for it, a soft contrast to his envy, and all the tension of the moment ruptures before gentleness.
Dealt with this sleight of hand, Ignis returns the gesture in kind, after, leaning so his forehead rests on his shoulder, breathing taking up a hazy shape where the clean lines of Noctis's throat are exposed. ]
If you wouldn't terribly mind, I'd want to be with you the whole way through, harebrained scheme or none. [ Reckless or not, as long as he can walk in the steps of a king-to-be predisposed to courting his own destruction, anyhow. ] Though I'll settle for causing mayhem and anarchy by your side afterwards, if worse comes to worst. Whatever you set your sights upon.
[ Then they'll get jailed and have to rely on the likes of Gladio to bail them out of some cramped precinct cell, and thereafter never hear the end of it. ]
All I ask for is your happiness.
[ Leave him to fuss and tie himself into knots over Noct's safety in the meantime. Twenty-two years of bad habit won't resolve itself on just his prince's horribly enlivening say-so. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Even subjected to all of this confidence-breaking irreverence, Ignis folds. Perhaps worst of all, he wants to fold— subjecting himself to the careful sprawl of Noctis's fingers, closing around him like they close around his heart. Contemptibly, he leans into his palm, and the soft pressure's just an extension of the rest of Noctis, quiet and modest and so inversely moved to emotional outbursts.
And Ignis remains beholden to him, caving easily to the prince and his erroneous appeals, like he wouldn't love him just as much if he'd championed his affections with someone else. Any lifetime where Noct goes off and finds happiness is a good one, even if the situation isn't at all dire and he's got no retort but the one that humors his question, tender as his grip on him. ]
Only you. [ Most terrifying is that resolution, when he cuts the bullshit and the stiff-shouldered replies and gives in to the suggestion of heat, eyes closed, plate cleaned off, the fan whirring distantly over their heads. ] It would always be you. I don't think you know the lengths I'd go to ensure your wellbeing. I'd give up a good deal to keep you safe.
[ And more selfishly, claiming dominion of his love, but in his defense, he's a rather contemptible man already, well and truly overcome, but Noctis knows that, reigns with a steel vice-grip over him, feebleminded arguments aside. ]
So no, I can't afford to be patient when I'm positively green with envy. Though, I am a touch less exasperated than I'd have you believe.
[ That comes with the territory, naturally. ]
no subject
He doesn't need him to do that, not when he's here in his hold, looking at him like he's the only person that matters. Noctis might reign in his heart, but Ignis holds similar sway in his own, and while he might not be nearly as articulate as Ignis, smooth and sleek and with a vocabulary that can enrage and titillate in equal measure, it's no less honest. ]
I love you. [ He says bluntly, because it's true, because it's all that he has that is truly his own, and not of the crown. It's terrifying, what he feels for him, all that rests on Ignis' shoulders. His love, his want, how he sees no one else but him, which would surely spell disaster if Ignis is ever gone from his side. ] Only you.
[ The shine and shimmer of others flitting about Noctis, drawn to his name, his position, are ultimately inconsequential -- they see nothing beyond the surface, and Ignis, Ignis has been there for the best and worst of him, and yet he's still here, giving him all that he has to offer anyway; so how can he possibly have eyes for any other? Ignis, his weakness, so perhaps it's fitting that he becomes his chamberlain's own, too -- mutually assured destruction of a sort, except it wouldn't come to that, he hopes. He leans over to kiss him, lips soft, tentative against his, and he tastes the flavor of the fish, even more delicious from his lips. ]
no subject
The answer's slow to come, but no less molten, when their mouths span in a kiss, and Noct's driving his inhibitions up a wall. He wasn't really cut out for mourning the possible death of his relationship, so he's no less suave championing it, when he retracts his head just so and reaches up to smudge away at the corner of his mouth. ]
That isn't very wise, admittedly.
[ Loving such a horrid man like him will do Noct no good later, when he outgrows his chamberlain for someone who won't crumple coffee cans to bits at the sight of temptation, but that's how it goes. Noctis never does what's best for himself, impulsive and emphatic and too kind for his own good. A man after Ignis's own heart.
Ignis's expression lifts out of obscurity with that smile on him. In the interim, his fingers drop to the table, drumming and rueful, caving into fitfulness. ]
I do love you the most. More than anything or anyone else. [ Dearly, then worse still, spoiling him and entertaining stunts like ill-advised forays into mine shafts. ] I suspect that's half of the problem.
[ If only the curse of it hadn't spread to the extent of nearly ruining their relationship, throwing a conniption fit over something that isn't there. It's not that he doesn't trust Noct, but he doesn't have much faith for those around him— and himself, more often than not. Even Ignis can't predict the extent of his own vengeance when fully realized, insofar as Noctis is personally concerned. All that collateral damage wrought for the sake of one person. It's a terrifying thought.
From right underneath their noses comes the retrieval of his plate, whisked away to the sink to endure the duress of dish soap and a scrubber. He can scrounge up enough belief that Noctis can bring up his own plate when he's well and ready; can't keep treating him like a child, even if he insists on acting like one from time to time (so he isn't really over Noct's death-defying fall this evening, not at all). ]
That's all I'll berate you for today. You're welcome to tend to other things as soon as you've finished supper.
no subject
What's the other half of the problem?
[ Noctis asks, ever curious as he polishes up his food and approaches him. Censure over for tonight, it's Noctis' turn to keep pushing the envelope, wanting to dig into just how Ignis is feeling, to smooth over the ragged spots because this is how he's always been, because despite his willful ways he still desires to please, and in this case, he wants to please Ignis. And it definitely won't do to have him in a snit when Noctis is still thrumming from his victorious high off an exciting adventure in a mine shaft. The adrenaline is slow to dissipate, and he steps in closer than he should when his boyfriend/guardian/companion/confidant/adviser/chamberlain is still feeling quite poorly from the events of the evening. ]
I think wise is overrated.
[ He says archly, because it's just like Ignis to overthink and work himself into a rightful snit, right? ] You know, you could stand to be a dumbass once in awhile. Well, dumbass in a good way, not in a jerk way. Less thinking, more doing.
[ He holds out his plate and cutlery to him. ]
no subject
I feel like a good one already.
[ No man is perfect. Anything can be ascribed values and logic, but they're all relative to the matter. Ignis does what he must, which in most cases, is only what he can. Carefully setting the platter he's currently working on, Ignis takes the dish he's handed, which he also sets down in favor of subjecting Noct to an open rupture of a kiss, his soapy hands leaving damp prints around the prince's forearms when Ignis executes the storming mood in him, forsakes it outright.
Afterwards, the synchronism between his words and his behavior's broken, both prim and heavily panting when leaning back, eyes daring censure. ]
How I absolutely wouldn't be able to fare well without you, if you were gone. That's the other half of it. The least you could do is bring me with you the next time you decide to be so incredibly reckless.
[ So he can be selfish. So he can be every bit as selfish as Noctis under the right circumstances. ]
no subject
Which is stupid, because this is such a fundamental, powerful part of Ignis; an immense, obvious answer hiding in plain sight. He opens up to the kiss when Ignis grips him, a testament to his love for him that he doesn't ask why, only simply opens up and presses his tongue back to his, stepping into his circle as he meets him halfway, laving at the rupture of his emotion, raw and potent and overwhelming.
Ignis is a storm, rough and fierce and passionate, the truth of his words rendering Noctis speechless for a moment, taken aback. Of course. Of course. Ignis jealousy of the firefighters, while a big part of it, had not been the main part. It goes deeper than that, right to the day they had first met and Ignis had been his only friend. His oldest, only friend until Prompto came alone, and even if Ignis has Noctis' heart, some things don't die easily.
Not that Noctis can't commiserate, if his blistering opinion of Ignis' past perceived fancies is any indication. Noctis, who quietly hates when something takes Ignis away from him, understands with full clarity. There is no censure to be dispensed when the kiss ends, and Noctis looks hazy for a moment, just a moment, licking his lips as if chasing the warmth of his kiss, wanting it to have lasted just a little longer. ]
I'm sorry. [ He says at last, apology given freely in the face of Ignis' truth, laid out before him, plain and simple, and he closes the distance between them, daubs of water on his forearms where Ignis' hold had been. ] You know I never want to be without you. [ His love, his light; the idea of Ignis languishing without him makes his heart ache, and when he kisses him back again, it's infinitely more gentle. ]
I'll take you with me the next time we go ghost hunting in an abandoned mine shaft. Or anywhere else. [ Noctis murmurs against his lips, his arm creeping to curl around his waist. ] Does this mean you want us to be reckless together?
[ Because that's really ridiculously romantic. ]
no subject
Brandishing all the discontent a jilted lover can possess with a sudsy sponge in one hand, Ignis sighs, a quiet echo against his ribs. ]
Don't apologize, Noct. I was far too rash.
[ Should've just left Ignis to stew over coffee stains once he'd chewed him out then make a bid at penitence. But it's that painful susceptibility to competition in him (as if he'd love Noctis any less, even with another man in the arrangement) that's riling its head now. The fear of inadequacy, rearing to bite. The ensuing kiss is all the more visceral for it, a soft contrast to his envy, and all the tension of the moment ruptures before gentleness.
Dealt with this sleight of hand, Ignis returns the gesture in kind, after, leaning so his forehead rests on his shoulder, breathing taking up a hazy shape where the clean lines of Noctis's throat are exposed. ]
If you wouldn't terribly mind, I'd want to be with you the whole way through, harebrained scheme or none. [ Reckless or not, as long as he can walk in the steps of a king-to-be predisposed to courting his own destruction, anyhow. ] Though I'll settle for causing mayhem and anarchy by your side afterwards, if worse comes to worst. Whatever you set your sights upon.
[ Then they'll get jailed and have to rely on the likes of Gladio to bail them out of some cramped precinct cell, and thereafter never hear the end of it. ]
All I ask for is your happiness.
[ Leave him to fuss and tie himself into knots over Noct's safety in the meantime. Twenty-two years of bad habit won't resolve itself on just his prince's horribly enlivening say-so. ]