[ He wants to be a part of this, in whatever shape it takes, he realizes. Luna isn't his daughter and he has no right to her, of course, but he wants to be a part of Noctis' life, and Luna is going to be a huge part of it. Being able to help with her, to assist with all of the insanity that comes with a newborn is part and parcel with his job, but it's never felt like one.
The dinner ends blessedly easily; they go their separate ways and Ignis thinks that while it may not be easy, it's...doable.
He's quickly proven wrong in the span of a few weeks. It's remarkably hard not to slip into old habits, and it's harder still when so much of his life and time at the Citadel do revolve constantly around Noctis. Sometimes it's a photoshoot and an interview; he's there to coordinate, to screen questions, to ensure the king isn't asked anything off the record. He's there to straighten Noctis' tie, to fix his hair, to smear some of his own pomade onto his fingers and work it through Noctis' unruly bangs. Eventually, he doesn't notice himself doing it as much, but by the time he really thinks about it, it's graduated to more.
Noctis fits in against his side at breakfast, the booth laughably small. He can't argue that Prompto and Gladiolus should take it and give them the chairs, either, because Prompto is already seated and he's the only one narrow enough for it. The first few times the two of them put Noctis next to him, he thinks nothing of it. Afterward, though, it happens too frequently for it to be anything but intentional. At first he thinks that it's because of them trying to push Noctis to him and vice versa, but then after watching a while he revises that hypothesis. Prompto sitting close isn't strange; he was physically affectionate and liked bumping shoulders, liked being close like an over-eager puppy who didn't realize how large he was.
Prompto cuddling up to someone wasn't strange. Prompto shouldering himself under Gladiolus' arm at one point when they were all out together, saying something low and soft and the smile on Gladiolus' face before the shorter man was gently shoved away-? That was something else. He never mentions it - if they're holding it secret, so will he, but it's something he notices more and more. Are he and Noctis like that? He's not sure; an outsiders perspective is better to gauge.
Regardless, it keeps happening and Ignis isn't about to boot them out of their own seats where they live so he makes the loveseat work. There's a truly horrendous variety of sugary sodas and snacks, but Gladiolus, the saint that he is, picked up some kale chips for him so he's been idly nibbling on those while they prep for the movie. By the time they're settled, Noctis is a warm weight against him again, but it's closer than the booth. They're in private - there's no fancy clothing, no neatly pressed suits. Ignis is in a pair of slacks and a simple button-up with suspenders, but it's comfortable enough. Still, when Noctis curls into him, he adjusts one side from habit, the strap sliding over his shoulder to fall loose, so Noctis doesn't end up with his face pushed against cold metal when it's already chilly. ]
Ah. One on the -- couch, it seems. [ Couch. Not loveseat. Ignis gropes back and shakes it out, gently settling it over Noctis' thighs. A glance at Gladiolus reveals what could reasonably be construed as an apologetic smile if Ignis didn't know the bastard. ]
Sorry, kids. Iris tried to get me into the whole cute blankets and throw pillows thing but it just never stuck. That's the only one we have.
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The dinner ends blessedly easily; they go their separate ways and Ignis thinks that while it may not be easy, it's...doable.
He's quickly proven wrong in the span of a few weeks. It's remarkably hard not to slip into old habits, and it's harder still when so much of his life and time at the Citadel do revolve constantly around Noctis. Sometimes it's a photoshoot and an interview; he's there to coordinate, to screen questions, to ensure the king isn't asked anything off the record. He's there to straighten Noctis' tie, to fix his hair, to smear some of his own pomade onto his fingers and work it through Noctis' unruly bangs. Eventually, he doesn't notice himself doing it as much, but by the time he really thinks about it, it's graduated to more.
Noctis fits in against his side at breakfast, the booth laughably small. He can't argue that Prompto and Gladiolus should take it and give them the chairs, either, because Prompto is already seated and he's the only one narrow enough for it. The first few times the two of them put Noctis next to him, he thinks nothing of it. Afterward, though, it happens too frequently for it to be anything but intentional. At first he thinks that it's because of them trying to push Noctis to him and vice versa, but then after watching a while he revises that hypothesis. Prompto sitting close isn't strange; he was physically affectionate and liked bumping shoulders, liked being close like an over-eager puppy who didn't realize how large he was.
Prompto cuddling up to someone wasn't strange. Prompto shouldering himself under Gladiolus' arm at one point when they were all out together, saying something low and soft and the smile on Gladiolus' face before the shorter man was gently shoved away-? That was something else. He never mentions it - if they're holding it secret, so will he, but it's something he notices more and more. Are he and Noctis like that? He's not sure; an outsiders perspective is better to gauge.
Regardless, it keeps happening and Ignis isn't about to boot them out of their own seats where they live so he makes the loveseat work. There's a truly horrendous variety of sugary sodas and snacks, but Gladiolus, the saint that he is, picked up some kale chips for him so he's been idly nibbling on those while they prep for the movie. By the time they're settled, Noctis is a warm weight against him again, but it's closer than the booth. They're in private - there's no fancy clothing, no neatly pressed suits. Ignis is in a pair of slacks and a simple button-up with suspenders, but it's comfortable enough. Still, when Noctis curls into him, he adjusts one side from habit, the strap sliding over his shoulder to fall loose, so Noctis doesn't end up with his face pushed against cold metal when it's already chilly. ]
Ah. One on the -- couch, it seems. [ Couch. Not loveseat. Ignis gropes back and shakes it out, gently settling it over Noctis' thighs. A glance at Gladiolus reveals what could reasonably be construed as an apologetic smile if Ignis didn't know the bastard. ]
Sorry, kids. Iris tried to get me into the whole cute blankets and throw pillows thing but it just never stuck. That's the only one we have.