nascere | LET'S PLAY {open post}

[ There's a brief conversation in the kitchen once Prompto totters his way into Gladiolus' bedroom, not even bothering to pretend like he's going to go home. Gladiolus, the bastard, doesn't even bother to help him tidy up in his own house, he just watches Ignis like a hawk, as if he's trying to emulate the creature emblazoned on his skin. Ignis stares him down a moment, eyebrow raised. Blessedly, it's short: Gladiolus telling him he's an idiot for waiting this long, Ignis grudgingly agreeing, promising to try and be better at this for Noctis' sake.

By the time he's done and is making his way up to the spare bedroom, sleepiness is pulling at him more than he'd like to admit. While it's not late, exactly, he does have to be up at dawn and usually falls asleep somewhere around eleven or midnight, so this isn't too early. With the heat of another body pressed against him, he thinks he'll sleep that much easier if his heart can get over the furious pounding that comes with realizing Noctis will be there.

Unsurprisingly, Noctis hasn't made it far. There's a blanket shaped lump and two shoes in the way when he comes in and Ignis resists the urge to roll his eyes, neatly plucking the blanket off. ]

Up, your royal sleepiness, I promise you'll be able to sleep the night away soon.

Mmmrgh.

[ A most dignified sound from the reigning monarch, who can't be arsed to move. But he has to, because the blanket's plugged off and he's struggling to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. ] Soon? You mean now?

[ Noctis asks, shuffling to crawl towards the top of the covers, tugging it off and fully intending to climb inside of it. He's very sure he doesn't have clothes here -- Ignis does, and he's really not keen on wearing anything of Gladio's. It gives him a complex, when he's much leaner than the immense behemoth that his shield is, and those shirts are bound to hang off of him. ] Just come in and sleep already, Iggy.

I'm so glad you agree.

[ If he can't understand you then he's assuming you're saying Yes, I'd love to get up and brush my teeth. Ignis comes closer to stop him from crawling under the covers like a particularly lazy slug, squeezing his shoulder gently. ]

Come on. Gladio keeps some spare toiletries in here because Iris comes to visit frequently enough; you can brush your teeth and it will almost be like you and Prompto didn't consume your bodyweight in junkfood tonight.

I feel like these are the things you appreciate about Prompto and me. Mostly me.

[ Because if it's Prompto, they're going to have a problem. But he's following after Ignis with a groan, thwarted from the magic sweet spot of nestling into the covers and getting warm. ] Do I have get to have sleep clothes that actually close up in the front?

[ Because Gladio reasons. Not everyone has the body of an Adonis' Adonis and while Noctis definitely isn't lacking in that department, he prefers comfortable sleepwear. Or in what he's wearing now, that definitely takes more effort. The trek to the bathroom is Herculean, and he brushes his teeth in due time, making space for Ignis before his brain really settles on the fact that yes, yes Ignis is right here with him, and this is good.

Looking over at him in the mirror while he rinses, he puts the toothbrush back in one of the holders. ] You okay with this?

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I feel like these are the things you appreciate about Prompto and me. Mostly me.

[ Because if it's Prompto, they're going to have a problem. But he's following after Ignis with a groan, thwarted from the magic sweet spot of nestling into the covers and getting warm. ] Do I have get to have sleep clothes that actually close up in the front?

[ Because Gladio reasons. Not everyone has the body of an Adonis' Adonis and while Noctis definitely isn't lacking in that department, he prefers comfortable sleepwear. Or in what he's wearing now, that definitely takes more effort. The trek to the bathroom is Herculean, and he brushes his teeth in due time, making space for Ignis before his brain really settles on the fact that yes, yes Ignis is right here with him, and this is good.

Looking over at him in the mirror while he rinses, he puts the toothbrush back in one of the holders. ] You okay with this?

Ah, you've caught me, I'm afraid Prompto and I have something to tell you.

[ Dry as the fucking desert. Ignis gives him an amused little smile in the mirror before proceeding to brush his teeth. The bathroom isn't particularly large, but it doesn't seem to matter, somehow. Despite all the time apart, he knows Noctis' bed time routine and it's easy to work around it.

Toothbrush in mouth, Ignis goes to the bed to strip the top blanket and tosses it in the dryer for five minutes before making his way back into the bathroom, pressing a gentle hand to the small of Noctis' back as he bends to spit and continue brushing. The question is a valid one, and not one he wants to address with his mouth full of froth, so he spits again, rinsing his brush and placing it back into the kit he keeps here. ]

I'm rather certain that a part of me is trying to convince myself that I shouldn't be, but I am. You can borrow a pair of my sweatpants, if you like, or I can see if Prompto is still up. I have a sneaking suspicion he's keeping clothes here as well.

I promise I'll keep my hands to all the not-naughty places.

[ Noctis says after a moment, looking for a towel and fishing it out from a cabinet, handing another one casually to him. He doesn't miss how easily they fit with each other, like two pieces of a puzzle, but something's starting to bother him the more he notices. Namely, how Ignis actually has his kit here -- and he's pretty sure that this isn't something he brought with him today. No. This means he's stayed over on more than a few occasions, and while Noctis isn't the jealous type, he remembers what Ignis told him about the... arrangement he used to have with Gladio prior to him.

That had been a difficult pill to swallow at first, but Noctis likes to think that he's currently come to terms with it. Somewhat. Hell, Gladio's all wrapped up in Prompto right now, but yet. ]

Do I want to know how many other places you've put your personal sleeping kit in?

My sleep schedule and eight o'clock meeting thank you.

[ He takes the towel, glasses settling off to the side. The tiny kit also has little things like small travel jars of the facewash he uses, and the lotion he's supposed to put on the scars to make sure that it doesn't get too rough or uncomfortable, so he washes his face quickly and then dries it with the towel, smoothing lotion over in neat circles. ]

It isn't that many. I carry one in the car I take most frequently just in case with a few days of clothing and other supplies, just in case. Another in my suitcase just in case I forget, and then the one here.

[ Noctis is observing him, the scars a reminder of everything Ignis has endured for him -- the searing, scorching pain; he will never forget the sight of his fallen form in a hurry. He remembers all the times he had spent pressing his lips to those scars, adoring and grateful all at once, and he can't help a curl of longing, his gaze lingering.

The scar on his brow, a smaller one on his lip, and it takes effort to look away. Deciding to just get to the point, he asks: ]

Do you and Gladio still --

Hold meetings outside the Citadel? Yes, semi-frequently. There are some things we'd rather not discuss there, at times.

[ Ignis is totally misunderstanding the question here because it's so outside the realm of possibility in his mind. Their time spent together had lasted a time, certainly, brought about by mutual respect and familiarity with each other - there was no danger to time spent and they both knew what the other wanted (or who) and it was mutually beneficial, much like his relationship with Aranea.

Lotion finished, he slides his glasses back on and then touches Noctis' shoulder lightly. ]

There's a duffel bag in the closet if you would like to look through it for something to wear. I'm going to fetch the comforter out of the dryer.

I mean do you two still sleep together.

[ Clarification, always important. They're still not together, not technically, but that doesn't matter to him either way. He nods at that and goes to rifle through the duffel in the closet, more for something to do rather than stand there like an idiot and wait for an answer.

He finds an oversized shirt and sweatpants,then unbutton his own carelessly, shrugging out of it and hanging it carefully on the back of the chair. Unbuckling his belt, his tailored pants are the next to go, and he gets dressed. It's a casual affair; the shirt too big on his lean, compact frame but it'll do. ]

Ah.

[ Is he asking because he's curious, or because he's jealous, Ignis wonders. He's not about to ask him that -- too raw to start digging into, most likely, but he does measure his words a little more carefully now that he knows that Noctis is concerned enough about it to ask.

Once he's finished in the bathroom, he heads to the hallway again to fish out the comforter, putting it in a pile on the end of the bed for the time being. Noctis' clothes are gathered to be hung, thank you, though the effort to put them on the chair is noted and appreciated and then the blanket is spread over the bed for Noctis to crawl under when he's ready. ]

It's been a long time since we ever considered it, really. We stopped, for the most part, once I left with Aranea and haven't picked it up since.

[ It's a little bit of both, really, but Noctis has a pretty good handle of it, and he's climbing in under the covers, his expression very carefully neutral. Watching Ignis absently, not intent to slide under until he's making his way over here, he nods at his words.

Everything about this is still very sensitive, but he makes his mind not to dig too deeply. Ignis is still his own person; Noctis doesn't have a claim to his time, his intentions. But more than that, more than the jealousy is the realization that Ignis is... lonely.

He's lonely, and he's never spoken of it, and Noctis feels his heart ache for him. ]

Come and sleep.

On my way.

[ Ignis folds back one part of the blankets for him to settle under, both of them taking their respective sides of the bed once Ignis has changed and hung his own clothing up. It isn't...strange to get into bed with him again. The strange part, he thinks, comes from the fact that this is familiar. He knows how they liked to sleep, what's most comfortable, what they prefer. The strange part is figuring out what's appropriate, what's over the line.

That Noctis doesn't follow up is indication enough that something's off, too. Gingerly, Ignis rolls onto his side and presses his hand over Noctis' heart, tracing fingertips over his chest, the material of the shirt baggy, sliding with each stroke of his fingers. ]

If you're worried of my potential interest in anyone else, you should know that I don't have any.

It helps.

[ Noctis smiles faintly, silently pleased that he's initiating this touch. He's leaning into him with a soft hum, and he instinctively moves, his hand resting over Ignis' own and squeezing. ]

I was just thinking about how I've left you lonely.

[ How they hurt for each other. How they wanted and yet couldn't have, how Ignis must have quietly suffered. Turning on his side to meet his eyes, squarely, he shifts even closer. ]

And this second chance. I want to do it right. [ He grasps his hand and draws it up, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles. ] I want to make sure you never get to feel lonely again.

Noct.

[ Ignis' voice is soft, not quite chastising but close as he leans over in the dim lighting. The moonlight creeping through the window paints him in shades of eerie light, glinting off the glasses he left on the nightstand. ]

I left because I could not handle things as they were.

[ He left for his own peace of mind, for his own sanity. Noctis never 'left him lonely' intentionally; he served his country, did his duty, just like he'd done for the last thirty odd years. His hand is clasped, knuckles kissed and Ignis makes a soft noise in response. He isn't guilty, but it's a close sibling to that feeling at this point, watching Noctis against the covers, sweet and concerned. Gently, after pressing a chaste kiss to Noctis' lips, ]

One day at a time, darling. Get some rest.

[ One day at a time, he says, and Noctis settles, satisfied that he's said his piece, that at least Ignis now knows. There were so many things they could have done better, and this is a chance for that.

He kisses him back, soft and gentle, untangling his hand only to slide his arm around his waist to snuggle in, cheek pressing against the hollow of his throat. Darling, he says, and he's impossibly warmed. Sleep comes easier than most days -- it feels right and proper again. ]

[ Second chances aren't something he wants to squander again. Ignis dares to kiss him, dares to snuggle into the solid, steady weight of him, dares to tuck Noctis' head under his chin and thinks this is what he's been missing for all those years. This finally feels right.

In the morning, things go back to normal. Ignis keeps his hands to himself much better than he did before, but they steal moments in the morning, at Gladiolus', in a thousand other places until it really does feel like they're teenagers in a clandestine relationship that no one can know of. Eventually, though, it gets to a point that they start delivering bits of information and while Ignis coordinates a good deal of it in conjunction with both Noctis and Octavia, there's nothing that can be done to really fix the mess that it'll be. All they can do is wait for a larger potential scandal, or this one to blow over.

It's terribly tiresome to read the ridiculousness people wonder regarding their king. Magazine articles speculating that Noctis was having sex with all of them -- there was only one tent, after all, or newpapers with sensationalized titles on the top. For the most part, it's all ridiculous speculation in the gossip magazines and tantalizing pieces about maybe this, given what we know to drag out the affair. Ignis still attends all the events he did before, still focuses on his duty as much as everyone else and takes to wearing the thicker glasses once more, because they hide the eyerolls better these days. It gets to a point where not even Octavia's masterful wrangling of everyone can prevent it and Ignis knows that it's wearing on all of them.

He ignores it as best as he can; he has a job to do and their tittering doesn't impact anything, but something has to give eventually. Despite the borderline fight they have, Ignis is sent away to work elsewhere, which essentially becomes waiting with Octavia for the press conference while both of them drink a copious amount of wine and Luna bounces happily in one of her chairs, gumming a new toy. His phone is at his side, paperwork in his lap as they watch, waiting for the feed to go live after they finish talking about the price of gas outside the city finally dropping now that trade is flourishing. I think the two times I've sat with you are the only times I've had more than a glass of wine, total, Ignis says, not missing the way her lips twist up into a little smirk. We're almost out, shall I uncork another?

Is he just delivering his piece, or is he answering questions, too? she asks, considering.

Hope for the former, though I'm relatively certain it's the latter.

Then yes. I think another bottle it is. ]

[ The problem with holding a press conference, Noctis reflects as he finishes his piece (announcing that yes, he is in the beginning stages of a relationship with his adviser, and yes, he assures that all matters in regards to diplomatic ties with Nifleheim have been arranged, in large part thanks to the Queen), is that one can never be entirely prepared for the questions that come volleying at him. His public relations team have vetted through most of the questions and prepared answers for them, and for the most part he answers succinctly, with a clear intention to draw the line.

His personal life is not fodder for the public, no matter how they may seem to think. But then the questions turn unexpected, as Noctis has been informed they are wont to do, with gems like Did you really sleep with all four of them? Was Scientia your first? Did you have an affair while married to the Queen?, and Noctis fields them as best as he can, keeping firmly to the necessary talking points. He's here to protect Ignis and Octavia, and he takes on what he can. It's a difficult session; people are too damn interested in their love lives, and the journalists insinuate a deeper connection, that they had been childhood sweethearts.

Noctis, of course, goes off script and decides to be honest. He's sick of the charades and parading. ] Yes. Ever since we were children. [ Which is a bombshell in itself because that was not the narrative that was agreed upon, at least where Lucis is concerned. Noctis has been in love with Ignis ever since they were young, and Ignis had been the first, the only. While all care had been taken to honor Octavia, Noctis acknowledges frankly, openly, that he has fallen short.

He looks into the cameras to deliver this, genuine but firm. He knows his team will probably kill him for this, having painstakingly crafted a narrative for him to follow -- but in all good conscience he knows he cannot. He knows, too, that he owes Octavia. The journalists come alive then, bursting with a barrage of questions that he personally answers. Yes, he says. Yes, he had an affair with him. And yes, they were together long before the Nifleheim marriage, and he was the reason why it didn't work out.

For this he is genuinely contrite, and he issues a public and heartfelt apology, making no excuses as he acknowledges the blame as best he can. The fault for the divorce lies on him; not his first love, who had taken a long period of leave to fulfill his duty, and certainly not the Queen, who had fulfilled all her duties to Lucians and the Empire alike.

In the meantime, Ignis' phone blows up with countless exasperated texts from the Lucian press secretary. ]

[ Luna starts hiccuping the moment the conference finally begins and Ignis waves off Octavia rising to handle it himself. Changing her takes no time at all and when he's finished, he walks around the room listening to the questions, bouncing Luna gently. Better than drinking, though he's only had a few sips of his second glass.

In his head, he answers the questions himself, Six, no, unless you count cramming into a tent or sleeping in the car, why is it your business, and yes, I'm so sorry.. Noctis stays to the talking points he's been delivered, and while it doesn't go smoothly, it does proceed far less awfully than it could have. Still, announcing an affair on TV is one thing, but one so sordid means that the speculation is going to triple into something else, a whole other beast they have to confront.

It's when Noctis looks into the camera and starts speaking that Ignis freezes, eyes fixing on Octavia's. Oh, Heron is absolutely going to love this, Octavia breathes, both of them well aware that the press secretary is entirely competent, and a good man, one they'd trust with that position but also, he doesn't like them going that far off of script. Ignis rolls his eyes to the ceiling, bouncing Luna idly.

Your father, he sighs, Luna laughing happily and groping for his glasses. If you're half as stubborn as he is, we're all going to have our work cut out for us. Octavia reaches out to take her for him and he deposits the baby into her lap instead, settling back in his chair to watch rather than just listening. He does look every inch the king. He's impossibly handsome and earnest, regretful at the right points. It goes better than he could have hoped despite the mess of it but when his phone starts ringing he knows that there's still hell to pay. One call turns into two, then three, and by the time he's finished the meeting is over and they're televising everything, picking it apart piece by piece.

Sinking back into the chair, Ignis thumbs a message to Noctis, not sure if he's going to have time for a call. ]

That certainly could have gone worse, though the vultures did pick quite a bit. I missed the last part, unfortunately, as Heron wanted to know if I had anything to do with the deviation, but I think he knew as well as I did that you were bound to be noble despite the script.

[ He can't lie. He can't -- he's tried, but he knows that sooner or later, the truth will come to light. And honestly? He's sick and tired of hiding. He's tired of treating Ignis like a secret, like he's something shameful, and even though the world won't work the way it should, even though he knows that his public relations team will have a hell of a time during this, and that for the next week this will be everything that they're talking about, getting it off his chest feels better.

The barrage of questions don't stop coming, and Noctis knows, with no small amount of dread, that there will be an entire sea of headlines tomorrow all over the damn world, even. Ignis won't have an easier time of it, and for that he is sorry. But at least they won't fault Octavia for this marriage's failure, as they are wont to do. They won't come after her. She has, after all, done more than her fair share of her job, and if there's anyone that should be taken to task it should be the king himself.

Already there is talk to spin this off-script moment into something else, something more of a long time romance in the making; he hears snippets of it when the conference finally concludes, and it's what his team latches onto. Turn it into something romantic, something the public will lap up, but Noctis is too exhausted to really offer anything of substance.

Heron looks red in the face and is evidently on the phone with someone, and Noctis doesn't even need to be a mind-reader to hazard a guess. Ignis, and while Heron will never take his frustration out on the king, the royal adviser is another thing entirely. Eventually, however, Noctis gets to go off on his own, and he sinks tiredly into his couch. It's an hour later that the text is answered -- just when the madness dies down. At least, for now. He smiles at his text, aware that his lover had been watching intently, because it's obvious he isn't going to do entirely as Noctis asks and ignore the thing wholly. But the important thing, he supposes, is that he heard everything-- and that he knows Noctis is no longer content to sweep things under the carpet and creep around like what they're doing is some kind of cardinal sin. Noctis loved Ignis first -- he always had. ]

I thought I told you that you're not to pay any heed to this broadcast at all. Should I get a fruit basket for Heron? I don't think he'll sleep a wink tonight till tomorrow.

[ While waiting for the text back, Ignis goes back to work. There's not much else he can really do anyway; if he's going to sit around he may as well be useful, right? It's mindless to go through the paperwork he was sorting, and then when that's finished, he opens up another bottle for the two of them. If he wasn't sure it would be a terrible idea, he'd ask Noctis to come over here. As it is a terrible idea, Ignis keeps to what he has, listening to Luna's babbling idly.

Already, his phone is beeping with notifications about comments, requests for interviews, a thousand other things. He sends them off to his assistant, along with an apology because he knows this is going to be a nightmare to deal with and earmarks certain ones they may want to consider. The romance card isn't a bad one to play - it's not the wrong one, either. Ignis approves the commentary they suggest from him, tweaking a few items and then his phone is plucked from his hand by Octavia.

We're going to eat and then you'll head back, she orders, no room for arguing. Ignis doesn't bother to try; she's right. The cooks prepare a meal and Ignis eats almost mechanically, phone vibrating in his pocket but it's not an emergency tone or Noctis' so he leaves it. When Noctis finally does text back, Ignis is borderline concerned but also understands the situation. ]

You know me well enough to know I would watch. And his wife will appreciate it more than he will, which will do wonders in smoothing all of this over, but yes. You'll get to deal with him tomorrow, I'm afraid. How are you feeling?

[ Noctis dismisses the staffers who are asking if he would like to have dinner brought up. The entire fiasco leaves him worn out and entirely bereft of appetite. There will be a bigger storm tomorrow, he knows -- but it has to blow up before it will fade into yesterday's news. As his aides buzz around outside the confines of his office, occasionally asking to enter to respectfully confirm something or another, Noctis sends down instructions to purchase the biggest fruit basket they can find and send them to the missus.

Ignis' words are reasuring, an island of calm in the storms that rage outside. He knows, too, that he's brought more than some trouble on Ignis, and some on the Nifleheim side of things (minimal, but still warranting a press release or another in the near future), and he sighs. He swears he's just spotted one of Ignis' principal secretaries running past together with a harried-looking public relations executive. So he must have sent down instructions of his own, too. ]

Like I've been dragged to hell and back. I'm not doing something like this again. Can you believe some idiot dared to actually ask if you were the one who seduced me into this. How are you? Octavia and Luna?

[ Despite the fact that he's going to have to deal with his own backlash - he can see the headlines now, Adviser Tempts King, How Much Power Does He Really Hold or something else equally stupid. Regardless of the shitshow that he's going to have to deal with, Noctis is the priority. He can weather anything that's thrown at him because he knows that the Council, Noctis and Octavia all will support him no matter what. There's an added benefit in being too useful to fire, even if he's sure one or two members of the Council will want him removed.

After a barrage of questions from his secretary, Ignis tells her that it'll keep until tomorrow, and buys her a fruit basket, too, making sure it has the nicest wine he can find, since she actually appreciates that kind of thing more than he does. ]

It won't look good if we ban anyone from press meetings, but I'm certain we can work out less than ideal seating arrangements with Heron. Talk to him about it tomorrow, I'm sure making them miserable will do wonders for his good mood. All three of us are just fine. Octavia has me drinking wine from a little district where she was born; it tastes all the same to me but it isn't bad. Luna's done her level best to stick her fist into her mouth with varying degrees of success.

[ A moment later his phone buzzes again, this time with a picture of Luna in her chair, half her fingers in her mouth, chin shiny with drool. ]

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