"So," Prompto said, "who do you play with if you're not, you know, out in the scene?"
Ignis had been walking the halls of the Citadel when Prompto ambushed him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I know, discreet and all that, but if going to the club is that big a deal then I want to find other ways."
Ignis strode on. "I certainly can't help you."
"But how do you find people?"
"I don't."
"But—"
"Prompto, your persistence is typically one of your more admirable qualities. Don't ruin that."
In the corner of his vision Prompto bounced in some peculiar sideways hopping to continue facing Ignis while he kept pace.
"What about when you were driving me home from the museum? You knew stuff people don't know unless they have a reason, you know what I'm saying? And I know you. You can't know just a little bit about something. You either don't know anything at all and keep it that way, or you know everything. So if you know what you knew then, then you probably know a lot more."
"Your inability to listen, however, is not." Whatever guilt Ignis might have felt for wanting to deny Prompto the same luxury he'd denied himself evaporated. Prompto's disarming, dizzying turns of conversation were more effective at riling him than most other things at the best of times. Now, facile enough to dissect Ignis so easily and thoughtless enough to have no care for what he'd exposed. . . a little pettiness was nothing beside that.
"Come on, Iggy, I'm trying to do the right thing here. I don't want to cause trouble for Noct."
Ignis came to a dead stop in the middle of the hall and turned to face Prompto. Clenched tight against him the edge of his clipboard dug a sharp line into his ribs, into his palm even through his glove. "Unlike you, Prompto, the consequences of my actions have been impressed upon me since I was very young. As a result, whatever intimate interests I may have, exotic or otherwise, have been strictly academic. I cannot offer you any advice because I have no personal experience on which to draw."
"Oh." Understanding lit Prompto's face like the dawn breaking through clouds. "Oh! That's gotta be rough, dude."
"It is a choice I was willing to make. I hope now you understand how strongly I feel about my responsibilities." Ignis began walking again, and stopped as abruptly at the sound of Prompto scuttling after him.
"So I'd be safe then!"
Ignis turned this time with bewildered horror; the concept was too absurd to allow for real anger. "I beg your pardon?"
"You're worried you'll hook up with someone sketchy and get outed and cause a scandal, yeah? This way you wouldn't have to worry. I'd die before I let anything happen to Noct, you know that."
That, unfortunately, was a point Ignis couldn't argue. "Perhaps I didn't put enough stress on my entirely academic interest."
"No, no, I get it. Don't sweat it. I like helping newbies. It's kind of my thing. I'm a switch, so I'm pretty flexible there, and it's not like you'd ever really be into me, so it'll be easy to cut your losses, yeah?"
Ignis attempted to formulate a response: your offer is appreciated but unwise, you must be completely mad, I would eat broken glass before I accept your pity. All were valid options.
Before he could, Prompto threw his hands up in surrender as he said, "Listening, listening. I'll stop," and, with that disarming sincerity of his, "Look, I'm booked on the range in a few, so I've got to get going, just—think about it, okay? I think it could be really good."
Again before Ignis could reply, Prompto jogged off towards a side hall that headed towards the Crownsguard training facilities.
So much for putting it behind him.
Indeed, the next time he saw Prompto a few days later he nearly ran bodily into him as Prompto popped out of the top of a seldom-used stone staircase that led down to the old cellars.
"What in heaven's name?" Ignis said. "Were you in the basement?"
"Yeah, stair sprints." Prompto panted for breath with his hands on his hips. The usual carefully messy spikes of his hair were flattened and damp.
When he waved and turned Ignis saw his heathered grey Crownsguard-issue t-shirt had gone black down the back. He looked away before Prompto could descend. Though the tableau wasn't without its appeal, the physical exertion of fit young men was the sort of thing growing up in the shadow of the Citadel should have rendered Ignis immune to, and largely had.
Largely.
Much like Prompto had wormed his way into most aspects of Noct's life, his proposition had planted itself in Ignis' mind like a weed he couldn't uproot. No matter how many times he cut the thought off, it reappeared to punch a new hole through the bedrock of his life.
If it wasn't a t-shirt gone damp with sweat, it was a discomfiting spike of paranoia later in the hall that day when he ran into Deputy Minister Kellam: married with grandchildren, habit of run-on sentences in his memos, viciously conservative. Ignis had gone out of his way to avoid the man in his adolescence, when his days were filled with tutoring sessions and council meetings and his nights with restless dreams of violence indistinguishable from passion. When he was young enough, he'd been sure, to be swiftly replaced if his deviance was found unbecoming of a royal retainer. He'd been terrified that Kellam or someone like him might know at a glance that Ignis watched Crownsguard recruits sparring more than he ought, that under Ignis' carefully pressed trousers his thighs sometimes bore the marks of his own hands, moments of weakness when he was lost in the throes of pleasuring himself and had given himself the intensity he craved.
He hadn't given thought to it in years even on the rare occasions he and Kellam had interacted. Not since Ignis had grown sure of his place and had learned to see the man for what he was: a reliable cog in a machine large enough to compensate for his deficits, whose spite ensured he would never rise higher than a minor position in the bureaucracy. He held no power over Ignis, not at thirteen and certainly not ten years on.
The true embarrassment was that Ignis could still be distracted by a Crownsguard recruit out for a run after that same decade.
His trip to the market was infiltrated just the same. A text to Noct to see if he had any requests for food resulted in a fruitless, rambling string of messages that amounted to asking whether Ignis could please make extra, as Prompto would be staying the weekend.
Ignis stood between the canned vegetables and a sales display of Golden Curry packets, staring at his phone. If he were less poised he might have begged the device for a reprieve, or Noct through it, as though Ignis could appeal to him to halt Prompto's intrusions when Prompto had in fact done nothing at all. He was little more than an apparition who appeared at intervals to stir the dust from old fears and vanish into the labyrinth of the Citadel in a blur of black and blond. Or, it seemed, to hole up in Noct's apartment for a videogame release of supposed vital importance.
That evening Ignis cooked in Noct's apartment while listening to the cheers of them in front of the television, content at least that with the game to occupy him and Noct present Prompto was unlikely to cause any additional disruptions.
Which of course meant Prompto took the opportunity to come and lean his elbows on the counter opposite where Ignis worked while Noct was in the bathroom.
"So, that thing I asked you," he said, pulling at a string on his wristband. "Probably should've said something before now, might've gotten a little carried away. I haven't yet, and I wouldn't tell anyone else unless you said it was okay, but me and Noct tell each other, like, everything."
"He's your closest friend. Perfectly reasonable," Ignis said while fighting down the same flushed hot feeling as seeing Kellam in the halls. He'd done nothing to be embarrassed about.
"Not details," Prompto added quickly, "but where I was, who I was with. Even if I did try to promise I wouldn't tell him I know I'd slip, and I'm not lying to him about this. I'm just not. So in case him knowing would be a problem, now you know."
Once Ignis had worked his way through the fits and starts, he found himself pleased that Prompto had considered the ramifications, and his own limitations.
"Thank you."
Prompto's eyes went wide.
"For your consideration," Ignis explained.
Prompto looked down and said, "Oh. You're, uh. You're welcome," obviously more because it was a required nicety than because he felt his actions warranted gratitude.
Prompto thankfully did leave him after that, and went back to the game system without another word.
This time, the disruption was an unfortunate reminder of Prompto's better qualities. Ignis did believe Prompto was fundamentally decent, certainly not apt to cause trouble via malice or exploitation, only negligence. He was polite as a rule, if informal. Thoughtless in some respects but thoughtful in others. Devoted both to his parents and to Noct—in the case of his parents moreso than Ignis suspected they deserved, not that he would ever mention it to Prompto.
It was only logical that Noct would know if Prompto were involved with someone.
The question of what Ignis might tell Noct about his own assignations had never arisen before.
Ignis could admit if only to himself that absolute discretion hadn't been the only factor behind his celibacy. There had been offers in past years, Guards and Glaives, Citadel staff who would've been in much the same situation Ignis was and at more risk; his position was now utterly secure. Between his responsibilities, his natural reserve, and his more extreme interests, no temptation had been worth dragging himself out of his self-imposed exile. Not for lack of interest in sex in general, he'd been clear on that point. It was a simple fact that people whose company he truly enjoyed were few and far between, and in the particulars the effort of overcoming those obstacles had never been worth it.
Prompto had circumvented any real effort on his part, vetted in a way through his friendship with Noct. Over the years Ignis had learned his hobbies and habits, his foibles and annoyances, all but the most private facets that he had recently been made aware of. It was the last puzzle piece to give Ignis a rather complete picture of Prompto turning his sincerity and puppy-eagerness towards more intimate ends.
While he'd intended to leave something for the next day for Noct to handle himself, Ignis now threw himself into preparing food in the hopes of exhausting the jittery energy that had begun to stir under his skin. The idea of being alone with only his own thoughts for company was unbearable. Sinking into the slow, deep breathing that arose from a long practice of meditation didn't erase it, but it did provide some distance between himself and his distraction and allow it a place to exist without overwhelming him while he attended to his tasking. Having cooked an extra meal and packed servings for Noct's lunches, he bid Noct and Prompto an easy goodnight over Noct's assurances that he didn't have to leave.
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: Prompto/any bro, new dom/experienced sub (2/?)
Date: 2018-10-16 09:35 pm (UTC)Ignis had been walking the halls of the Citadel when Prompto ambushed him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I know, discreet and all that, but if going to the club is that big a deal then I want to find other ways."
Ignis strode on. "I certainly can't help you."
"But how do you find people?"
"I don't."
"But—"
"Prompto, your persistence is typically one of your more admirable qualities. Don't ruin that."
In the corner of his vision Prompto bounced in some peculiar sideways hopping to continue facing Ignis while he kept pace.
"What about when you were driving me home from the museum? You knew stuff people don't know unless they have a reason, you know what I'm saying? And I know you. You can't know just a little bit about something. You either don't know anything at all and keep it that way, or you know everything. So if you know what you knew then, then you probably know a lot more."
"Your inability to listen, however, is not." Whatever guilt Ignis might have felt for wanting to deny Prompto the same luxury he'd denied himself evaporated. Prompto's disarming, dizzying turns of conversation were more effective at riling him than most other things at the best of times. Now, facile enough to dissect Ignis so easily and thoughtless enough to have no care for what he'd exposed. . . a little pettiness was nothing beside that.
"Come on, Iggy, I'm trying to do the right thing here. I don't want to cause trouble for Noct."
Ignis came to a dead stop in the middle of the hall and turned to face Prompto. Clenched tight against him the edge of his clipboard dug a sharp line into his ribs, into his palm even through his glove. "Unlike you, Prompto, the consequences of my actions have been impressed upon me since I was very young. As a result, whatever intimate interests I may have, exotic or otherwise, have been strictly academic. I cannot offer you any advice because I have no personal experience on which to draw."
"Oh." Understanding lit Prompto's face like the dawn breaking through clouds. "Oh! That's gotta be rough, dude."
"It is a choice I was willing to make. I hope now you understand how strongly I feel about my responsibilities." Ignis began walking again, and stopped as abruptly at the sound of Prompto scuttling after him.
"So I'd be safe then!"
Ignis turned this time with bewildered horror; the concept was too absurd to allow for real anger. "I beg your pardon?"
"You're worried you'll hook up with someone sketchy and get outed and cause a scandal, yeah? This way you wouldn't have to worry. I'd die before I let anything happen to Noct, you know that."
That, unfortunately, was a point Ignis couldn't argue. "Perhaps I didn't put enough stress on my entirely academic interest."
"No, no, I get it. Don't sweat it. I like helping newbies. It's kind of my thing. I'm a switch, so I'm pretty flexible there, and it's not like you'd ever really be into me, so it'll be easy to cut your losses, yeah?"
Ignis attempted to formulate a response: your offer is appreciated but unwise, you must be completely mad, I would eat broken glass before I accept your pity. All were valid options.
Before he could, Prompto threw his hands up in surrender as he said, "Listening, listening. I'll stop," and, with that disarming sincerity of his, "Look, I'm booked on the range in a few, so I've got to get going, just—think about it, okay? I think it could be really good."
Again before Ignis could reply, Prompto jogged off towards a side hall that headed towards the Crownsguard training facilities.
So much for putting it behind him.
Indeed, the next time he saw Prompto a few days later he nearly ran bodily into him as Prompto popped out of the top of a seldom-used stone staircase that led down to the old cellars.
"What in heaven's name?" Ignis said. "Were you in the basement?"
"Yeah, stair sprints." Prompto panted for breath with his hands on his hips. The usual carefully messy spikes of his hair were flattened and damp.
When he waved and turned Ignis saw his heathered grey Crownsguard-issue t-shirt had gone black down the back. He looked away before Prompto could descend. Though the tableau wasn't without its appeal, the physical exertion of fit young men was the sort of thing growing up in the shadow of the Citadel should have rendered Ignis immune to, and largely had.
Largely.
Much like Prompto had wormed his way into most aspects of Noct's life, his proposition had planted itself in Ignis' mind like a weed he couldn't uproot. No matter how many times he cut the thought off, it reappeared to punch a new hole through the bedrock of his life.
If it wasn't a t-shirt gone damp with sweat, it was a discomfiting spike of paranoia later in the hall that day when he ran into Deputy Minister Kellam: married with grandchildren, habit of run-on sentences in his memos, viciously conservative. Ignis had gone out of his way to avoid the man in his adolescence, when his days were filled with tutoring sessions and council meetings and his nights with restless dreams of violence indistinguishable from passion. When he was young enough, he'd been sure, to be swiftly replaced if his deviance was found unbecoming of a royal retainer. He'd been terrified that Kellam or someone like him might know at a glance that Ignis watched Crownsguard recruits sparring more than he ought, that under Ignis' carefully pressed trousers his thighs sometimes bore the marks of his own hands, moments of weakness when he was lost in the throes of pleasuring himself and had given himself the intensity he craved.
He hadn't given thought to it in years even on the rare occasions he and Kellam had interacted. Not since Ignis had grown sure of his place and had learned to see the man for what he was: a reliable cog in a machine large enough to compensate for his deficits, whose spite ensured he would never rise higher than a minor position in the bureaucracy. He held no power over Ignis, not at thirteen and certainly not ten years on.
The true embarrassment was that Ignis could still be distracted by a Crownsguard recruit out for a run after that same decade.
His trip to the market was infiltrated just the same. A text to Noct to see if he had any requests for food resulted in a fruitless, rambling string of messages that amounted to asking whether Ignis could please make extra, as Prompto would be staying the weekend.
Ignis stood between the canned vegetables and a sales display of Golden Curry packets, staring at his phone. If he were less poised he might have begged the device for a reprieve, or Noct through it, as though Ignis could appeal to him to halt Prompto's intrusions when Prompto had in fact done nothing at all. He was little more than an apparition who appeared at intervals to stir the dust from old fears and vanish into the labyrinth of the Citadel in a blur of black and blond. Or, it seemed, to hole up in Noct's apartment for a videogame release of supposed vital importance.
That evening Ignis cooked in Noct's apartment while listening to the cheers of them in front of the television, content at least that with the game to occupy him and Noct present Prompto was unlikely to cause any additional disruptions.
Which of course meant Prompto took the opportunity to come and lean his elbows on the counter opposite where Ignis worked while Noct was in the bathroom.
"So, that thing I asked you," he said, pulling at a string on his wristband. "Probably should've said something before now, might've gotten a little carried away. I haven't yet, and I wouldn't tell anyone else unless you said it was okay, but me and Noct tell each other, like, everything."
"He's your closest friend. Perfectly reasonable," Ignis said while fighting down the same flushed hot feeling as seeing Kellam in the halls. He'd done nothing to be embarrassed about.
"Not details," Prompto added quickly, "but where I was, who I was with. Even if I did try to promise I wouldn't tell him I know I'd slip, and I'm not lying to him about this. I'm just not. So in case him knowing would be a problem, now you know."
Once Ignis had worked his way through the fits and starts, he found himself pleased that Prompto had considered the ramifications, and his own limitations.
"Thank you."
Prompto's eyes went wide.
"For your consideration," Ignis explained.
Prompto looked down and said, "Oh. You're, uh. You're welcome," obviously more because it was a required nicety than because he felt his actions warranted gratitude.
Prompto thankfully did leave him after that, and went back to the game system without another word.
This time, the disruption was an unfortunate reminder of Prompto's better qualities. Ignis did believe Prompto was fundamentally decent, certainly not apt to cause trouble via malice or exploitation, only negligence. He was polite as a rule, if informal. Thoughtless in some respects but thoughtful in others. Devoted both to his parents and to Noct—in the case of his parents moreso than Ignis suspected they deserved, not that he would ever mention it to Prompto.
It was only logical that Noct would know if Prompto were involved with someone.
The question of what Ignis might tell Noct about his own assignations had never arisen before.
Ignis could admit if only to himself that absolute discretion hadn't been the only factor behind his celibacy. There had been offers in past years, Guards and Glaives, Citadel staff who would've been in much the same situation Ignis was and at more risk; his position was now utterly secure. Between his responsibilities, his natural reserve, and his more extreme interests, no temptation had been worth dragging himself out of his self-imposed exile. Not for lack of interest in sex in general, he'd been clear on that point. It was a simple fact that people whose company he truly enjoyed were few and far between, and in the particulars the effort of overcoming those obstacles had never been worth it.
Prompto had circumvented any real effort on his part, vetted in a way through his friendship with Noct. Over the years Ignis had learned his hobbies and habits, his foibles and annoyances, all but the most private facets that he had recently been made aware of. It was the last puzzle piece to give Ignis a rather complete picture of Prompto turning his sincerity and puppy-eagerness towards more intimate ends.
While he'd intended to leave something for the next day for Noct to handle himself, Ignis now threw himself into preparing food in the hopes of exhausting the jittery energy that had begun to stir under his skin. The idea of being alone with only his own thoughts for company was unbearable. Sinking into the slow, deep breathing that arose from a long practice of meditation didn't erase it, but it did provide some distance between himself and his distraction and allow it a place to exist without overwhelming him while he attended to his tasking. Having cooked an extra meal and packed servings for Noct's lunches, he bid Noct and Prompto an easy goodnight over Noct's assurances that he didn't have to leave.