Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There were three most important positions in the royal prince’s retinue: the Shield, the Chamberlain, and the Delicium. All three positions were essential for the physical well-being of the Prince.

(The options for a princess were completely different and pretty bullshit in terms of misogyny but that was not the point right now.)

The Shield — one of the oldest and most revered positions in court. For the past thousand years, every Royal Shield has come from the Amicitia family, usually assigned — however unofficially — at birth. The Shield was a bodyguard and trainer, tasked with the protection of the prince’s body from outside forces. A literal body between him and the world.

The Chamberlain was a similarly respected position in the house, though without the prestige and tradition of the Shield. A Chamberlain was picked from among the noble families, assigned at the king or regent’s discretion whenever they felt the role was required. The Chamberlain was in charge of attending to the prince’s household and his basic needs. A manager of the everyday issues a prince shouldn’t even notice were being tended to.

The Delicium was… well. The role itself was as old as The Shield, but every other generation or so it had to be rebranded. There’d been a lot of names for it — paelex, bedwarmer, favourite, companion, cupbearer, keeper of the keys, wick trimmer, catamite, reception host, jester, confidante. But every other generation the title became a sneering jibe and insult. Each generation tried to emphasise the other tasks that were so necessary, the ease of a royal’s mind, the distraction from his burdens, the entertainment when they weren’t among company. But when it came down to — what it always came down to — was that they were there to take care of the Prince’s sexual needs without compromising his reputation or health, offending potential betrothals, or a line of royal bastards.

The method of choosing the whatever-it-was-called-this-time-around was as varied as the title. Sometimes they could only be picked from the Crownsguard, or the sons of the Ancient Ten noble families, a few times Cinderella-style huge nationwide searches for the fairest in the land, or talent contests. The timing was different too—previously it had been as soon as the prince had matured, then there had been an age limit imposed, but in recent generations it was dictated by the sexual age of consent.

Anyway, Prince Noctis had been raised with this knowledge in mind. Still, when he was sixteen, he had a very uncomfortable conversation with his Dad about what he was looking for in a Delicium and how he wanted to go about the appointment of one.

He whined. “I don’t know, just do what grandpa did,” he said evasively.

He wished he’d been more specific. Because it wasn’t a fun time for him or the people tasked with helping out.

The first step was a census of all the teenage males in Insomnia who were born the year he was, or the one before. Any older and the maturity and life experience would just be too different, any younger and it was both skeevy and against the law.

Following the census was a short survey hand-delivered to each one of their households to assess moral values, hobbies, life goals, and sexual orientation. Any of them who weren’t morally repugnant, didn’t plan on a future that wouldn’t allow for copious amounts of time to dedicate to the prince’s personal entertainment, and were — or at least willing to say they were — attracted to males were lined up for interviews. First with a psychologist and a guidance counsellor and a life coach to catch any red flags, and check their answers still fit; then with the prince’s established retinue Sir Amicitia and Lord Scientia. Whoever survived that attended a week-long tournament at the Citadel where they endured a series of tasks to test their and parties while getting to know the Prince. As it drew to a close he would pick his candidates who would be interviewed by the king who made the final pick. At the end of the week, there was a ball — which would take place on the Prince’s seventeenth birthday — where the Delicium would be announced.

If Noct had paid attention to the particulars he would not have picked something that ended up with a week-long painful experience of forced socialisation and awkward staged events. It could not actually be worse.

“Domitian Drautos?” Ignis asked, selecting the next folio from his pile.

Gladio grunted. “I guess so. Didn’t think Noct liked him much, but we can’t piss anyone off by not inviting him, though.”

The two of them were assembling the guest list for Noct’s Delicium Tournament, with a pile of “no ways” “maybes” and “I guess sos”. It was personal to them, as well as the future of their prince — for whoever they ended up with would be their close companion as well. Between the three of them they would be the constants in Noct’s life, and it wouldn’t do to pick someone neither of them liked.

They were almost through the pile of prospectives. There were no definite yeses and so few resigned supposes.

“What about this one. That Argentum kid?” Gladio asked, picking up the last folio.

Ignis hummed. The name meant nothing to him, but he opened the folio between them on the table to look it over. “Ah. The commoner boy.”

“Geez you’re such a snob sometimes, Igster,” Gladio snorted.

It was peculiar that one had slipped so far down the line, the first few defences were much stricter than he was. “He is fond of animals,” Ignis recalled.

He was indeed. When Gladio had asked one of their standard questions, “If you found an injured animal in the street, what would you do?” Argentum had the most memorable answer. No particular red flags, that far in the game — but some pretty standard ‘call animal control’ or ‘take it to a vet’ or ‘find the owner’ responses from the other interviewees.

But Argentum? He’d gave an awkward laugh and “Hey! That actually happened to me once!” And then he’d launched into an anecdote about finding an injured puppy on his walk home from elementary school, taking it home and bathing it, feeding it, and attempting to take a photo for a flier to find her owner. But then the puppy — Tiny, he had nicknamed her — had vanished in the middle of the night. He’d been frantic searching, “but then, it turns out! She belonged to Lady Lunafreya! The Oracle! She wrote me the sweetest letter in reply to thank me for rescuing the puppy — Pryna, her name was.”

“He does claim a connection with the Oracle,” Ignis added. “If it turns out not to be a falsehood, that’s certainly a mark in his favour.”

“He’s a talker too,” Gladio offered in favour. One certainly needed to be capable of holding a conversation with the minimal input if one was to befriend Noctis. The prince was unfairly shy for his position in life, and though Toastmasters classes and debate clubs had at least made him a decent orator before a crowd.

“There was an interesting sort of charisma about him,” Ignis agreed. Not the bold, confidence of the nobility that filled the rest of the lists — no, there was certainly nothing about this Argentum that Ignis could call ‘confident’, but a sort of effortless warmth that ensnared one’s attention once it was caught. “And I was fond of his sense of humour.”

Gladio snorted. “Of course you were.”

“Still…” He sighed and peered at the folio again. “He would have great difficulties fitting in to his position. He wouldn’t find trouble fulfilling his main purpose—”

(When Gladio had point-blank asked how Argentum would feel about fucking the prince on a regular basis, the teen had blushed hithertofore undiscovered shades of pink, shifted in his seat and mumbled: “Well… he’s really pretty”)

“—but court life is not without its intricacies.”

“He’d trip his way through them and have everyone smiling about it,” Gladio predicted. But shook his head afterward. “But you’re right. It’s not snobbery to say he just wouldn’t mesh.”

Ignis nodded and read the file again. Argentum wanted to be — in his own tragically illegible hand — “a photographer hopefully, but maybe a Crownsguard if that doesn’t work out?” It was the sort of lofty, hobby-style career choice that fit someone who could not commit to a regular schedule or any significant free time. Other Deliciums and their predecessor roles had been artistic. His majesty’s Delicium Cid Sophiar had been a master mechanic. And the backup plan was a thoroughly plebeian concept — Ignis had been to many a dreadful galleria opening for noblemen’s children who had shockingly little talent — but it did nicely demonstrate loyalty to the kingdom.

“He’s Niff-born too,” Gladio continued.

“Now who’s being a snob?” Ignis retaliated.

“You think the Court’s going to be any better?” Gladio grunted.

“I will give you that.” Ignis, born in a territory that historically belonged to Tennebrae and still afflicted with the accent, was aware of the exclusionary nature of courtlife. His uncle’s presence on the inner circle of advisors, along with his appointment as Noct’s Chamberlain at such an early age, had forced them to begrudgingly include and eventually tolerate his presence. Deliciums were sometimes from outside the court — and Master Cid had eventually chose to settle outside Insomnia entirely.

“I will place him in the ‘maybe’ pile,” Ignis decided. “Pending a communique with Lady Lunafreya about this alleged epistolary meeting. At the very least, he should be an interesting addition to the tournament.”

Gladio grunted. “Fine. That’s it then?”

“I believe so.”

Prompto was never more confused than when he received the invitation to the Delicium Tournament. The courier-sent survey was vaguely confusing at first, but he found out that every guy their age had received one. They had to at least look like they weren’t being exclusive right?

The initial interview was about the same level of confusion but, again, more than half the guys in his class at school had gotten them. Nothing weird. Well, like, he did go to one of the best schools in the area — (it had all been part of his twenty-point plan to befriend Prince Noctis and win the heart of Lady Lunafreya. Except Noctis ended up homeschooling for high school instead so that was all up in smoke).

How he’d gone from the thousands at the initial interview to the couple hundreds asked back for a second with angry muscles and sexy glasses was a total mystery. But then in his interview he’d accidentally babbled on for five minutes about Pryna in answer to a basic question, and lost his cool when Muscles had straight up asked if he wanted to fuck the prince. That was the very first time he found out that a Delicium was not just some kind of on-call best friend for the prince, but his sworn-in fuckbuddy.

So after completely embarrassing himself in the second interview, the actual last thing he expected was an invitation to the house party. “Maybe they have a quota to fill?” Prompto asked aloud.

Carbuncle, his online buddy in his King’s Knight Team, grunted. “For what?” His voice, a sweetly charming accent like Lunafreya’s, was clearly fed through a modifier, but hey so was Prompto’s. He felt like they were friends — he knew Carbuncle loved fishing and video games and hated parties, and Carbuncle knew everything about him that he cared to remember because Prompto told him everything.

Except his interviewing to become a prince’s in-house catamite because Uh, how did you even bring that up? “This age division comp thing,” he said evasively. “Like, maybe they have a quota of… scholarship students they have to include for fairness or whatever? Prove they’re not being nepotistic?”

“I’m sure you got in on your own merit, Quicksilver,” Carbuncle soothed. Aww, he was always sweet. Prompto was half nuts on him, if only his heart wasn’t sworn in devotion to Lady Lunafreya. “I’ve got this...inter-school social event coming up,” Carbuncle complained, “it’s gonna turn into some pissing contest party mess and all I wanna do is sleep through it.”

“To be fair,” Prompto laughed, “you wanna sleep through everything.”

To prove his point, Carbuncle gave a long yawn. “Yeah. You’re right. I better go. My big brother’s gonna kick my ass if I’m late to Math Tutoring again in the morning.”

“One more raid?” Prompto asked, not wanting him to go just yet.

“Yeah, sure.”

Man. He loved this guy.

“So, this comp is next week,” Prompto explained, two hours later, as he lay back in his bed with Carbuncle in his ears. “It’s an after-school thing and it goes pretty late so, uh, I don’t know if I’ll be around much.”

He yawned on the other line and gave a quiet hum. “That’s cool. I’ll be busy with school stuff anyway. But you can tell me all about it when you’re back, right?”

“Yeah,” Prompto said with a fond smile. “I’ll save up all the good stories of me making a fool of myself in front of all the rich trust fund babies.”

Carbuncle laughed. “Yeah… night ‘Sil.”

“Night ‘Bun. Sweet dreams.” He didn’t hang up until he got the totally weird sound he knew was the soft snoring of his buddy filtered through the modifier. Smiling to himself, he hung up and tried to get some sleep.

Chapter Text

At Monday morning, at 8:45 exactly, a fleet of non-descript black cars began to pull into the courtyard of the Citadel. The procession was traditional — and even though half the attendees actually lived in residence, they had been picked up and driven around for the Arrival Ceremony.

Prompto Argentum, oblivious to all this, sat in the car wearing his school uniform and jiggled his leg nervously. There’d been no option of refusing to attend the Tournament. But what male-loving guy wouldn’t want to get a life of money and prestige in exchange for regular dickings from the pretty prince? This guy. His heart belonged to Lady Lunafreya, obviously — but even he could admit Prince Noctis was a babe. (Being in love with a woman did not erase his identity as a proud bisexual, thank you very much!)

The car pulled to the stop at the base of a flight of fancy marble steps carpeted in red. The driver, in her fancy black skirt suit and sensible shoes, climbed out to open his door for him. He took a deep breath and swung his legs out of the car. His shiny school shoes sunk a little into the plush carpet, but all he could think about was how they stopped it from getting soaked and mouldy when it rained. Maybe they just bought new carpet.

It was an exercise in itself to walk up all those stairs (like really? Who would do this to themselves???), and he was glad for his cross-country track training. He managed not to be a sweaty, horrible mess by the time he reached the top and a set of identical servants in formal suits opened the fancy double doors. The lobby was milling with the guests and their families — sipping glasses of wine from passing waiters and chatting among themselves. At a nudge to get out of the way from the doormen as the next candidate arrived, he tucked himself into a corner by the welcome desk and intensely studied the day’s itinerary he’d already memorised.

Meet and Greet from 9-10 (he had a whole hour to stand around here???? Fuck his life). 10-11 was the presentations to the king (would it really take an hour for twenty guys to walk up some stairs, have their names announced to his majesty, shake hands with the prince, and then walk back down the stairs???). Brunch from 11-1 (okay that he could deal with. This place probably had the best food anyway!) A tour of the Citadel from 1-2 (dude how would they get the whole citadel done in one hour?????). Then their first ‘competition’ of their tournament until 4 — fencing (Like fancy face guards, white outfits, bendy thin swords actual fencing). Then there was ‘reading hour’ until five, which his copy had suggested he might want to take the opportunity to go home and change for the dinner. After dinner there was a concert of some kind, and then evening cocktails (did they remember that all of these candidates were underage???) before they parted for the night.

“Looks awful, doesn’t it?” A voice asked.

“Uh-Huh,” he agreed. “But, still. Better than a Math Test.” He looked up to see was talking to him. He must’ve been some kind of noble or something, cause he looked a lot like a white-blond Prince Noctis, but he had a cute Tennebraen accent. It reminded him of Carbuncle’s. He offered a hand out. “Hi. I’m Prompto.”

The noble shook it firmly and confidently. A spark travelled up his arm and down his spine. Damnit attraction, this was not the time! “Invus Via Flauret,” he offered.

He blinked. “Flauret? Like the Oracle?”

Invus looked uncomfortable a moment, then nodded.

“Sorry,” he added sheepishly. “I’m from the city. I don’t really know like… all the fancy families or whatever.”

Invus seemed to relax a little at that. “That’s quite alright.” He looked around. “Where are your family today?”

“Oh. Um.” Awkward. He’d sent his parents a message about the Tournament but they were in Altissia and hadn’t gotten around to replying to him yet. “Out of town. Guess I’m going Stag this week?”

Invus laughed a little bit. “I think the point is rather that all the guests of honour this week are ‘going stag’.” There was something niggling at him the way that he spoke. It wasn’t just the accent, his rhythm and language really reminded him of Carbuncle.

“You know…” Prompto said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You remind me of someone.”

Invus’s eyes went wide, and an awkward laugh escaped his lips. “Oh? Perhaps you merely are reminded of the recordings of Luna? That is… Lady Lunafreya.”

“Yeah… maybe…”

It couldn’t be, right? But like… Carbuncle had said he had some kinda interschool thing going on this week. But what if that was some kind of code, like Prompto’s calling it an age-division comp? He had to know.

He leaned forward casually. “So, do you play King’s Knight—!” And of the first of many embarrassing experiences he would inevitably have this week, he’d put his elbow right on one of the paper itineraries, and as he’d been speaking it slipped out. He ended up smacking his face on the marble countertop and the whole room paused before little sprinkles of laughter broke the silence.

“Oh goodness,” Invus said nervously. “Are you quite alright?”

“Yep. Nothing hurt but my pride!” he said with an easy grin.

“And that busted lip.” Invus gave him a little confused frown. He held up a glass bottle — like where had he even gotten that from??? — and crushed it in his fist. Something glowy misted around Prompto’s face, but when it cleared his lip didn’t hurt any more. “That should do it.”

“Thanks,” he said with a grateful smile. “Got many of those magic elixirs on hand? I might need more by the day’s end.”

“It’s a potion, not an elixir. Elixirs are gold.” An awkward silence settled between them because Uh, what? “Sorry, what were you asking prior to your incident?”

“Uh. I was just asking about King’s Knight.”

“Which one?” Invus asked, something amused in his smile. “He has many. There’s the Kingsglaive of course, but many members of the Crownsguard have been knighted too.”

“Never mind,” he mumbled. So much for it being Carbuncle. That would’ve been cool though, he could’ve met his online buddy and hung out with someone this whole lame tournament! “So, Uh. Where in Tennebrae are you from, Invus?”

“Oh, well, yes, you see—”

Prompto didn’t get his answer. Sexy Glasses, he remembered from the interview, came over to their corner. “Pardon my intrusion, Mr Argentum.”

“Dude,” he said. “Mr Argentum are my dads. You can call me Prompto.”

“Quite.” Glasses was giving Invus a bewildered look. “I came to fetch Noc—”

“Oh, you may call me Invus!” the guy said quickly. Like, almost too quickly. “No need for formality, eh Prompto?” He just gave Invus a grin and a thumbs up.

Glasses raised a single eyebrow in the gentleman’s direction. “Quite.”

You know, it really was interesting how different their accents were. Glasses was quite clipped with broad vowels, while Invus still had the same kinda consonants but some of the vowels were really fancy and others weren’t? Accents were cool.

“Well, Invus,” Glasses said, and he sounded really amused for some reason, “your father would like to speak to you before the day’s formal events get underway. He sent me to fetch you.”

Huh. Invus must be a really important guest if the prince’s personal Chamberlain was running around after him.

Prompto just grinned at the guy and waved him off. “Go on. I’ll catch up with you later, right?”

“Oh I do hope so,” Invus said. He gave him a long, studying look, and then followed after Glasses.

Prompto turned away and collected a glass of juice from a nearby waiter, instead of a champagne. He looked around awkwardly — it seemed like everyone had arrived now. But it only made him aware of how out of place he was. All of these other guys were dressed in fancy suits, some of them military-style uniforms of junior cadet groups — and their parents were in formal robes of the council, of military uniforms hung with medals, or just super expensive suits and fancy dresses. And here he was in his school uniform, tie not even done up properly. No wonder nobody wanted to talk to him.

He wanted Invus to come back. Even if he wasn’t actually Carbuncle, he still seemed like the most approachable guy in the whole Citadel.

Finally — he didn’t know if he could’ve lasted much longer trying super hard not to take out his cell — they were called up to the throne room.

He was second in line, behind a muscly looking guy and his family — who was announced as Gravis Amicitia. (Hey, wasn’t that the Shield’s name? Maybe he was a cousin or something.) Stupid alphabetical order. At least he didn’t have to go very first. Or last.

Gravis confidently strode up the first flight of stairs, stopping at the first landing. He bowed to King Regis, all the way at the very top — and then turned to shake hands with Prince Noctis, who was dressed in a pinstripe suit that emphasised his slender frame. (Hadn’t Invus been wearing a similar set of pants? He couldn’t really remember — it had been dark in their corner.)

He stopped there and had a friendly chat with “my dear uncle, Gladiolus”, and even attempted to actually talk to the Prince without much success.

Okay, yeah. Prompto was beginning to see how this was going to take an hour.

Gravis descended the stairs again and went to stand off to one side with his family. He seemed pretty smug and eyed Prompto daringly. Like whatever dude. How was this part of the competition?

The guy standing next to the king announced in a loud, serious voice: “Prompto Argentum.”

Oh boy that was him. He carefully made his way up the stairs, wishing he’d thought to fix his tie first, or look in the mirror to make sure his hair was still lying flat. He couldn’t make himself look at the prince yet, and ended up staring at the King’s knees as he walked up. When he was standing where Gravis had, he raised his eyes to the King’s face and bowed.

He looked kind, his eyes understanding and features friendly if not actually smiling. “Welcome to the Citadel, Mr Argentum,” his majesty said, “I hope you enjoy your first visit.”

He smiled back and, even as his brain was screaming at him not to reply and the king was only being polite, words were slipping out of his mouth: “me too, your majesty.” Okay time to yeet himself down the staircase.

Wait. Shit, no. He had to shake hands with the prince first. Whoops, that was close.

He turned woodenly to the side of the landing where the prince was standing on the first step of the second set of stairs—Muscles and Glasses two steps above him.

He offered out his hand to shake and then finally made himself look in the prince’s face. He felt like an absolute idiot the moment he did. Because there, without the pale blond wig, was the dude Prompto had been talking to in the lobby.

Ifrit’s belt he was dumb. How had he fallen for that? He’d even thought how much Invus had looked like Prince Noctis! And how familiar he’d seemed! — actually thought he might be Carbuncle, as if his online friend would be caught dead in a place like this.

The prince’s hand touched his, and the firm handshake they’d already exchanged today confirmed it. (And yes, the same stupid spark of attraction traveled up his arm but he was ignoring it because Noctis was a lying liar who lies!) “Prompto.”

“Prince Noctis,” he returned, meeting his eyes. And because he might one day learn how to control his mouth but today was not that day, he asked: “How’s Invus?”

Glasses snorted a laugh behind them. The prince’s cheeks momentarily flushed pink. “Uh…”

Prompto just gave another firm shake of his hand, nodded to Muscles and Glasses — who was smirking like nobody’s business — before turning to walk very calmly down the stairs. No running whatsoever.

He moved to stand near Gravis, but he just ignored the glare he was getting from him. He was so not in the mood for that right now — he was betrayed and he had to stew in it!

It was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

Prompto was disappointed. Like, the food was good, but it wasn’t even great. Let alone amazing. It looked picture perfect, and he arranged it on his plate with all his knowledge of composition and negative space.

He was just sitting down at his table — he had a whole table to himself and it was embarrassing and awkward because it was seated for four and it was so empty — when he slipped out his little red camera and took a few artful shots.

“You know, I really should confiscate that.” He lifted his head to see Muscles pulling out the seat next to him and sitting down. “Mind if I join you?”

“Uh.” He blinked and lowered his camera slightly. “I mean. No, but… don’t you wanna sit with your nephew?” He pointed over at Gravis’s table, where Noctis had just sat down looking really unhappy about the fact.

“Nah. Kid’s not even my nephew. He’s like a...third cousin or something.” Muscles started digging into his plate of breakfast meats and eggs.

Prompto sort of, sat there awkwardly for a minute and then offered him the camera. “You gonna check I’m not taking paparazzi shots to sell to the magazines?”

“Breaking news: Citadel serves poached eggs and grapefruit at Brunch! More at 11.” Muscles snorted. “Nah. Your folio said you wanted to be a photographer right?”

Awkward. He wasn’t used to people knowing about him or...caring enough to try and hold a conversation about his interests. “Yeah,” he replied, pushing around a bit of fried potato. “I’m doing some photography classes at school. Teach says I got an eye for it.”

He just blinked when Glasses pulled out the seat across from Muscles and sat down. Without invitation. Or question.

But, hey. Filled the negative space, right?

“If I have to hear one more question about why the polo match wasn’t included in the Tournament schedule then I’m going to have a conniption,” Glasses declared. His plate was full of delicate pastries and fruits.

“Why?” Prompto found himself asking. “The deep pool closed for repairs or something?”

The two of them blinked at him for a moment and then Muscles laughed. A smile flickered over Glasses’s face — Okay he really had to learn their names — and he replied calmly: “Not Water Polo I’m afraid, though that would be an interesting diversion from the norm.”

“Birdback Polo,” the other replied, after he’d stopped laughing. “Iggy, is it too late to put Water Polo in and watch them panic?”

Glasses — who was apparently called Iggy, smirked and pushed up his frames. “I’ll run it by Noct.” He began carefully tearing a chocolate croissant into bite-sized pieces and popping them into his mouth. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Ignis Scientia, Noct’s Chamberlain.”

He choked down the mouthful of grapefruit he’d been chewing so he could answer. “Hi. Prompto, not Noct’s Chamberlain.”

Ignis gave a soft chuckle of amusement. Muscles nodded at him, and offered a simple: “Gladio.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Ignis spoke next, teasing Gladio about hadn’t he ever heard of a balanced meal? To which Gladio replied that it took a lot of protein to maintain his muscles. And Iggy couldn’t talk anyway, since he was having sweets for brunch.

Prompto found himself smiling. These guys were fun. At least not everyone in the Citadel was so stuffy, though he guessed Ignis could out-stuff everyone if he was in the mood.

He finished carving out his grapefruit and set aside his plate and cutlery — it was swiftly collected by a waitperson and swept away behind the screen to...assumably a kitchen or whatever.

Gladio raised an eyebrow at him. “You gonna go up for more, kid?”

“No…?” He replied uncertainly. “Should I be carbo-loading? I wasn’t planning on joining the fencing and embarrassing myself.”

“No, don’t listen to Gladio, he’ll have you consuming your weight in steaks by Shiva’s Night,” Ignis interrupted. “There’ll be canapés throughout the day, you needn’t worry about trying to bolster through to dinnertime.”

“Which is good,” a new voice announced, “cause dinner is like fifty hours away.” Aaaand that was Prince Noctis, sitting down with eggs and bacon and hash browns.

“Uh. Hi.” Prompto said uncertainly.

“Brunch is in alphabetical order too,” Ignis explained. “Though you really ought to have sat for longer with Gravis.”

Oh. Okay. Apparently the Prince was sitting with everyone at brunch. The Citadel was weird. Or maybe it was just the Tournament.

“Gravy is boring,” he mumbled, too quiet for anyone else to overhear. “And he kept asking me why we cancelled the polo match.”

“Tell him the pool needed to be cleaned,” Prompto snickered in Gladio’s direction.

Ignis sighed. “Apologies, Noct. There are certain families we had to include in the selection.”

“S’cool. I get it.” ‘Noct’ shrugged between mouthfuls. He had surprisingly poor manners. And was he really picking the eschallots out of his omelet? “Why you sitting here?”

The question was directed at the other two but — still betrayed and a little annoyed at being otherwise ignored, he spoke up before they could. “Funny story. So turns out the Crown Prince has to hold a big party to pick a boyfriend! This skeevy black car kidnapped me off the street on my way to school this morning and here I am—sitting in front of my namecard.”

The prince gaped at his for a moment, fork halfway to his mouth. Then he set it down. “They didn’t really kidnap you, did they?”

Prompto snickered. “No. Rang my doorbell all polite and were like: hi! You’ve been signed up for The Bachelor: Royal Edition. Please surrender your dignity at the dotted line.”

“He’s joking right?” Prince Noctis asked, glancing at his retainers nervously. “There was no contracts?”

“No, Highness,” Ignis answered, fighting off a smirk. “Just the standard blood pact.”

“He’s kidding, you’re kidding—” He turned to Prompto a little desperately. “You’re here of your own free will, right? Nobody’s making you attend?”

He shrugged. “There wasn’t exactly opportunity to RSVP ‘no’,” he pointed out. “But I don’t think the guards on the doors would stop me if I tried to walk out either.”

The prince did not look comforted by that. Gladio put a large hand on his shoulder, pushing out a small huff of air. “Relax, Princess. Igs and I interviewed everyone personally. Nobody is being forced to be here.”

“Well,” Prompto added with a slight grin. “Except you.”

Gladio laughed at least, and the Prince gave him a tired sort of smile that seemed to say ‘oh good, you get that’.

“Well. Gladiolus and I are going to go be elsewhere in order to let you two have a conversation.”

“But I haven’t finished my bacon—” Gladio complained as the advisor pulled him away from the table.

“Guess we know who wears the pants there,” Prompto mumbled, feeling awkward as he watched them go. He turned back to his place, and suddenly wished he’d gotten more food so he could have something to fiddle with. He started refolding his napkin instead (actual fabric napkins, like who had time for this!). “Sooo,” he began, “Invus Via Flauret, Huh?”

“I can explain,” Prince Noctis said quickly, just a hint of desperation in his voice.

“Nah man, it’s cool. I’ve seen Aladdin. Sometimes you just gotta dress up like a street rat and chill right?”

“I wanted to meet you.”

Prompto blinked at that, turning his head to look at him in surprise. “You what…?”

“I mean… all these other guys,” he gestured around the room. “I’ve grown up with them, around the Citadel. Your name was the only one on the guest list I didn’t recognise.” He lowered his voice and added: “so I wanted to meet you. Not as Prince Noctis, but as a normal guy. I just… didn’t realise we’d met before.”

“...h-huh?” He asked, heart beginning to pump hard in his chest. “What are you…?”

“In elementary school. You wanted to show me your camera.” He gently touched his fingertips against the red camera still sitting on the tablecloth.

“You… you still remember that?” He asked, nearly choking on his feelings.

“Could hardly forget being gawked at from behind walls and light poles,” the prince replied.

Oh crap. Oh shit. He had noticed all that too. “H-heh…” He tried to force a laugh out but it was so awkward. “Well… you know. It’s not easy being in the presence of royalty.”

Prince Noctis met his eyes. “Were you really gonna pretend it was the first time?” He asked.

“Well—” Yeah. That had been his whole plan. “Now we’ll never know, will we Invus?”

The prince cringed a little. “Don’t. I’m never gonna live that down. Ignis hasn’t stopped laughing at my fake accent.”

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad,” Prompto said, grinning at him. “Could be worse. You could’ve fallen on your face both times we met!” He gave a self-deprecating little grin.

He gave a soft smile, pretty blue eyes roving over Prompto’s features. “...yeah.” Something intense passed between them, something Prompto didn’t know how to name. Then it passed, and he was turning back to his dissected eggs. “How come you never approached me again?”

He gave a slight laugh and rubbed his neck. “...maybe I’ll tell you the story one day. Scheherazade and her 1001 nights. Well, except I get 6 and then the big party ends.”

The prince looked at him a moment, but didn’t answer. He just went back to silently eating.

Prompto idly chatted to him as he ate about some of the kids from their elementary school he was peers with now, and how they were going on. It seemed comfortable, even if he felt like he was babbling. Whatever, he was used to filling the silence, even if it was in his own head.

It continued until Ignis loomed and tapped his watch. The prince sighed and stood up, shaking Prompto’s hand. “Thanks. This was probably the most fun I’ll get to have all day.”

Prompto gave an easy grin. “Well. If you need to escape the crowds, you know where to find me. Inside the wide berth all your fancy suitors are giving me.”

The prince gave him a soft quirk of a smile and let his hand go, pushing in his seat and almost slumping over to the next table — Eres Bacchus.

Ignis and Gladio joined him again at the table shortly after, with fresh plates from the buffet. “Well, that wasn’t a disaster,” Gladio offered brightly.

“Hey, I can talk to people without making a fool of myself.” He paused. “Sometimes.”

A smile quirked over Ignis’s lips. “You assume we were worried about you.”

Sometime in the middle of brunch, when Gladio was up to get yet another serving, Ignis leaned close and whispered: “Prompto… you don’t truly not want to be here, do you? Your interview did seem positive, but it occurs to me we never did ask if this position was something you wanted for yourself.”

Prompto considered the question. Before brunch he would’ve had his answer straight, still stinging with embarrassment at Prince Noctis’s disguise. But… he couldn’t positively say he didn’t want to be here anymore. He couldn’t get the prince’s soft smile out of his mind, or his “I wanted to meet you” from his ear.

“Nah, it’s chill Ignis,” he said, giving the guy an easygoing grin. “I know what I’m here for.”

The Chamberlain gave him an intense look for a moment, before he nodded and settled back into his seat. “So, besides photography, how do you fill your spare time?”

Chapter Text

Prompto lay in bed after he woke up, holding up an envelope to the slant of morning light. It had been waiting in the car for him when it collected him to go home last night. Definitely for him — on the front, in the same calligraphy-neat handwriting that yesterday had written “Mr Prompto Argentum”, was simply “Prompto”. He couldn’t make himself decide what it was—hence lingering in bed when he usually made himself get out straight away and stretch for his morning run.

Was it a polite note that found some fancy way of saying “LOL PUNK’D STAY OUT OF MY CASTLE” without offending him? A suggestion that he buy some decent clothes to wear? Advice on how to eat properly without offending everyone?

(Gladio had already had to help him out with dinner last night— muttering “start from the outside and work your way in with each new plate” when Prompto hesitated over the twenty forks spanning out from beside his plate.)

He slid his thumb under the wax seal (literally a wax seal dude what the fuck) pressed in with the royal crest. Two bits of paper fell out—one was the itinerary for Day 2 of the Tournament neatly printed, and the other was a handwritten note. So not prepared to deal with any personal notes yet, he looked over the itinerary instead.

No early morning shit today—the first item on the agenda was brunch (why were these people obsessed with combining lunch and breakfast???? It just weirded him out seeing scrambled eggs next to a cobb salad) at 10 til noon. Then they had to go to the pool — today’s competition was a 200m freestyle race (Couldn’t it have been running? He might’ve had a hope at not embarrassing himself that way!). From 2 it was a high tea party in the gardens (what made it high? Did they have to stand on stilts or something??). Reading hour again at the same time, which last night really had been an excuse for everyone else to go change for dinner (Prompto had sat with Gladio in a small, intimate library while the guy...actually read a book.). After dinner, it was billiards (wasn’t that the fancy way of saying pool? Fuck were there different rules???), coffee and cake, and then home. (Who had coffee at 9 at night??)

Okay. So. Pack swimwear. Got it.

He carefully unfolded the paper—the letterhead at the top declared it “from the desk of Lord Ignis Scientia, Chamberlain to His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV”.

Weird. The handwriting was still calligraphy-neat, but didn’t match the style on the front of the envelope. Who’d written that then? Was it Gladio? (The idea of McMuscles having such neat handwriting just boggled his six-damned mind.)

Please do not find offense to my taking out the time to offer some advice as to the dress codes of tomorrow’s activities. The other guests for the tournament have had such unspoken social codes instilled in them since birth.

“How many times a day do you people change clothes?” Prompto yelled at the letter, after he’d finished reading it. Was this a fashion show or a tournament? (Both, probably. Rich people needed less money and more actual jobs to do.)

He tossed aside the letter and itinerary to be dealt with later. Then he rolled over onto his side and grabbed his cell off charge.

Carbuncle had replied at some point in the middle of the night. With a little smile, he opened their server to read.

Quicksilver [10:36]: Today was just the kweking worst. This age comp was as dumb and nepotistic as I thought it was gonna be. And who needs nine hundred forks to eat dinner?? Miss you, Bun.

Carbuncle [2:03]: Big kweking mood, Sil. I swear to five of the gods (but not all six). It sounds like your day was as unbearable as mine. First I embarrassed myself in front of a cute blond, and then I had to spend the whole day talking to people I hate (except the cute blond. RIP in pieces my gay heart.). Spent the whole day thinking how I’d rather be hanging out with you, playing King’s Knight. Passed out at like 10pm just from sheer doneness. Morning, when you see this, you freakish early riser.

He smiled to himself and typed out a reply he doubted Carbuncle would even read for another four hours.

Quicksilver [6:19]: What the fuck is with dress codes? Who wants to change clothes four times in one day, I beg of you Bun. Semi-smart formal casual????? All chocobo turd I tell you. Chocobo Turd! Bruh I thought I was the only cute blond in your life. Heartbroken. Well, I better go. Gotta see if I actually own a pair of white pants and then hang myself with them.

Having sent that, he got up and finally made himself go for his morning run.

Yesterday had been weird. Domitian Drautos had been a condescending little shit about the fact he didn’t know how to fence. Most of the guests had been condescending shits about everything, actually. At least Ignis and Gladio has managed to make sure one of them was with him pretty much the whole day. (Although Favonius Fortis had made a mocking remark about his needing to be babysat so he didn’t embarrass everyone with his plebeian manners “or lack thereof.”)

Prince Noctis had been forced to divide his attention between all of them in pretty equal measures. (Ignis had showed up every so often when he was sitting with Prompto to tap his watch with a reminder to move on.) But it had been kinda worth it to see him take down all of the competitors at once after they finished the rounds of fencing. (Gladio had snorted and called his form sloppy.)

Hanging with the prince had been...kinda fun, actually. He was a pretty chill guy, not at all like Prompto expected a prince to be. (Even if he didn’t appreciate Prompto’s finely crafted puns. Whatever, Ignis always laughed.) He didn’t talk much—but Prompto thought maybe he was just awkward, not snobbish. He always seemed like he was actually listening to Prompto, anyway. Or maybe that was a secret technique they taught him in prince school, to just pick up enough of the conversation to make it sound like his questions were attentive.

By the end of the day, Prompto couldn’t wait to go home. The concert was okay, he guessed. But he didn’t know about any of that opera stuff. He didn’t think it was Prince Noctis’s taste either — he’d definitely spotted the prince asleep, leaning against his own hand up there in his fancy box.

He didn’t think today was gonna be any better, and he kinda thought he was gonna nope out before the end of the week.

After his run, he printed that blackmail shot for Ignis while he was in the shower, and then he threw everything out of his closet onto his bed to glare at over Ignis’s letter. Okay now he could appreciate the guy taking the time out of his day (probably during that lame as concert) to help him be less of a target for the mocking of the other guests.

Swimsuit was easiest, he just threw his school swimwear into a duffle bag alongside his towel and goggles. And sunscreen. All of the sunscreen. Dinner was next - Ignis had said just to wear his school uniform, so he did. He figured he’d probably wear that to brunch too, shove the sleeves up over his elbows where they were comfortable — you know, for that short-sleeved, ‘casual air’. It was the dumb tea party he had an issue with because who the fuck had even heard of garden whites??? (Dumb rich people with too much time and money, that’s who.)

He wrestled around his clothes until he found a pair of lightish-grey cargo pants that would have to do. They weren’t the jeans or chinos Ignis had recommended, but they were comfy and the closest to white pants he was going to get. He had a white T-shirt at least, though he had no idea what a crew-cut was. He packed them in an old shopping bag to change into after the swimming comp, then collapsed on his mess of a bed.

He may have fallen asleep again, but he jolted awake when his cell chimed.

Carbuncle [8:01]: Don’t worry, Sil. You’re still the light of my life. My main pretty blond. But since you’ve declared you’re destined to grow up and marry L. then I can share my heart with C.B. (Cute Blond)

Quicksilver [8:02]: Dude what the kwek is the world ending why the kwek are you awake before noon???

Carbuncle [8:03]: Ugh. Don’t remind me. I have to go for a ‘Morning Constitutional’ with some of the guys from the interschool thing.

Quicksilver [8:04]: You’ll live, Bun. Some of us have been awake since 5:30.

Carbuncle didn’t reply. Knowing him, he’d probably fallen back to sleep — and would stay that way until his big brother came to wake him up.

Grinning, Prompto closed his cell and rested it on his chest. It sucked that Carbuncle was having a terrible time too — but at least they were both unhappy together.

Aaaand he still had two hours until he had to be at the Citadel for Brunch. Great.

Chapter Text

So it turns out, Prince Noctis has a secret walking date with half the guys in the party. He was not jealous, he told himself firmly. He just didn’t think it was fair! This was supposed to be an even competition, right? But he wasn’t being asked to morning walks.

He was so salty when he found out, it counteracted how bitter his quarter of grapefruit was. Fuck this, he was having bacon. The real stuff, with the streaky fat grilled to crispy perfection. Fuck you, Noctis Lucis Caelum the More-Than-Fiftieth. Making him break his diet.

Ignis raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not entirely sure what that poached egg did to offend you, Prompto, but I’m fairly sure that you’ve crossed into heinous torture territory by now.”

“Huh?” He jerked his head up, then back down to his plate. Okay, he’d been stabbing his breakfast a lot. Stupid Prince Noctis.

Alphabetical order was over at least, Noct was over there with Whatshisface Xerces. He was glad. He didn’t wanna talk to him any time soon.

He stood up and headed back to the buffet, piling on the bacon. Crisp and perfect, his favourite comfort food.

Gladio smirked a bit when he saw what he came back with. “Interesting choice.”

“Fuck off don’t judge me,” he muttered. “I’ll work it off in the pool.”

“Are you quite well this morning, Prompto?” Ignis asked carefully. “You seem out of sorts.”

“How do you know this isn’t my real personality?” He replied sullenly.

“Because you’re made of sunshine,” Gladio snorted. “Someone say something to you?”

“They don't need to say anything,” he said bitterly. “I know I don’t fit in, or measure up. I don’t know why I’m here.”

The prince’s Shield cracked his knuckles. “Alright. Whose ass am I kicking? Tell me it’s Furia’s, I’ve been dying to knock him down a peg or two.”

“Gladiolus,” Ignis said, his voice a low tone of warning. The Shield listened too — Ignis owned all the pants in that relationship, all of them. “You were hand-picked by us, Prompto,” he explained. “You must believe we something in you that we know the prince is looking for in a partner.”

“These pumped up guns?” He deadpanned, flexing his skinny biceps.

Gladio snorted. Ignis continued talking: “we were aware that you might have some...difficulty fitting in amongst the other guests. Through no fault of your own—after all, Mister Fortis still won’t speak to me because I am an émigrée.”

“So why invite me?” He asked bitterly.

“Cause we think you’d be a good choice for Noct,” Gladio said. “You’re not like these guys. That’s a good thing.”

“Shore up, Prompto. Whether you are appointed at the end of this week or not, be pleased to know you’re keeping them on their toes because they see you as a genuine threat.”

Prompto was just chilling on the edge of the pool, soaking up the warmth of the sun and basking in the knowledge he hadn’t come dead last in the swimming race. The other groups were organising teams for a relay or chicken or something, over there on the other side of the pool.

He felt the water shift around him and glanced over to see Prince Noctis sitting on the edge beside him, feet dipped in the water. “Hey.”

“Hey, Prince Noctis,” he said. He nodded his head over to gathering of guys. “Smart idea this. You can really see what you’re gonna get this way.”

“Huh?” Prince Noctis asked, following his gaze.

“I mean, take Gravy Amicitia—” Damnit the nickname had stuck, “now I wouldn’t pick him if you ever wanted to bottom. Unless you’re into size but that just seems like a yeeouch.”

The prince choked. “You can’t check out people’s dicks, Prompto!”

He shrugged. “I mean, I probably shouldn’t — but you definitely should be. You gotta know what you’re going in for.” He poked a thumb at his bare chest — he had abs now, he was going to show them off — “me, for example, I’m a verse. So I’d be looking for the dudes that are average, but also with a nice ass. I mean, pick Amicitia if you’re a firm top, whatever, it’s your choice dude.”

“A… What’s a ‘verse’?” Prince Noctis asked, sounding completely bewildered.

“Versatile,” he replied easily, “means I like it both ways. Bottom and top.” The prince just stared at him some more. “Being fucked and doing the fucking?” Aw that blush was cute. “Dude, do you even know how gay sex works?”

“...theoretically.”

Prompto laughed, he couldn’t help it. But he soothed the sting by elbowing the prince in the leg. “Chill, dude. Just watch some porn or something. You’ll figure it out.”

“And… I wouldn’t want a guy with a big...ego, because…?”

“Cause it’s going up your butt, dude,” Prompto said. “Probably don’t want it to hurt.”

The prince just covered his face with one hand. “I regret everything about this conversation,” he announced.

“I get that a lot.” He shot the prince a grin and dipped under the water before heaving himself out. The prince stared, just a bit, and he wanted to preen. He’d worked hard on this body, it was nice someone was appreciating it. “I’m gonna dry off and have some of that gelato from the kiosk. Who knew it would still be this hot in September?”

“Yeah,” the Prince said, his voice kinda stuck in his throat, “...hot.”

He grinned cheekily. “Thanks buddy. You’re pretty hot too.” He turned away, trying not to laugh at the Price spluttering behind him.

So! Billiards — totally different game to Pool. The tables didn’t even have pockets! The balls all looked the same and he genuinely had no idea what everyone was doing or who was winning.

Prompto was propping up the wall, claiming he’d gotten too much sun. It wasn’t exactly inaccurate — after the pool and the garden party he kinda just wanted to go home and sleep off the sunburn he still somehow managed to get.

(Oh, turns out High Tea is just like… pots of tea with little cakes and sandwiches. Go figure!)

Domitian Drautos was being a real dick about it too. “I would offer to teach you the game,” he said, way too casually, “but it may be more than someone like you can grasp in a night.”

Dick. He just fixed on an easygoing smile, acted like he didn’t even know he was being insulted or the players around Domitian were laughing at him. “Yeah, probably. Doesn’t seem like much fun.”

“Well, it must be difficult to find a level playing field when you can’t measure up,” Dick Dickbutt replied smugly.

“Well, I’d offer to play you at darts,” he said, pointing lazily to the board across the room near where the Prince was sitting with Gladio, “But I wouldn’t want to embarrass you by kicking your ass.”

Someone — probably what’s-his-name Xerces — made a low “oooh”.

“They’re fighting words, Mr Argentum,” Domitian warned, eyes narrowing at him.

“Just calling it like it is,” he said, giving him a shrug and another easygoing smile.

Domitian began to fold up his sleeves, striding towards the dartboard. “Very well. Shall we place a wager?”

“If you’re asking to get hustled,” Prompto snorted. “I think your wounded pride is enough of a loss for one night.”

He gave an arrogant look and unpinned a set of darts from the board. Prompto could tell that their little scene had gathered the attention of Prince Noctis, who was leaning on his hand watching with interest. Made a nice change from the absolute boredom that had been on his face so far that night.

“Careful,” Xerces warned. “Drautos hasn’t lost a game of darts yet.”

Prompto just gave What’s-his-name a confident grin. “Neither have I.” He took the set of three Domitian handed him. “You can go first, so you at least get to try before you gotta go eat that crow.”

Domitian looked smug. He threw three darts, giving Prompto a victorious smirk after each one. They weren’t bad throws — the first two landed in the thin black triangle at the middle of the twenty line, and the third landed in the green ring around the bullseye. Then he turned back to Prompto confidently. “I won’t call you a coward if you back out now.”

“Good to know.” He stepped up to the mark, waited until he had everyone’s — especially Domitian’s — attention, and then threw his first dart. It landed perfectly in the centre of the bullseye.

A stunned silence followed — and Domitian ground out between clenched teeth: “beginner’s luck.”

Prompto just gave him a sunny grin and tossed his second dart. It landed bare millimetres away from the first one. Oh he was basking in the shocked silence. “So, once was luck, twice was coincidence. Three?” He gave Domitian a cocky grin as he threw the dart, not even needing to look to know it would land exactly between the two darts he’d already thrown. “Three is me kicking your ass.”

The group around them rose up in a roar of excitement and victory. Domitian’s sour face was fucking ambrosia, man. Riding on his winner’s high, he turned to look at the Prince to see if he’d been still been watching.

Prince Noctis was sitting there — at some point his hand had dropped to the table and he didn’t even notice it was lying in spilled beer. His mouth was hung open a little, and his eyes locked on Prompto’s were full of wonder.

It made Prompto giddy and confident. He raised one finger in a gun sign. He cocked it in the prince’s direction and ‘shot’ — signalling the fire with a wink and a click of his tongue.

Prince Noctis actually pulsed with it, like some instinctive reaction to being fake shot. His face bloomed a splotchy red and he covered his eyes with a hand. He leaned over to tell Gladio something in a mortified whisper, and the Shield started laughing his ass off.

He got distracted, Xerces and Vaullerey surrounding him to congratulate his victory and ask where he’d learned to play.

He shrugged. “Dunno guys. It’s just talent. I’m a crack shot.”

“Well that should make Thursday interesting,” Vaullerey laughed. He clapped him on the back in congratulations and the two of them headed back to their game of billiards.

When Prompto turned back around to look at the prince again, maybe ask him if he wanted to have a game, his table was empty. A few minutes later, Ignis came in to announce that his majesty was retiring early thanks to a headache — and they were all welcome to finish their games and go on to the drawing room for coffee and cake.

Time as good as any to call it a night.

He was in the car back home when he noticed his cell buzzing. He opened it up to see incoming messages from Carbuncle and opened the chat with a pleased little grin.

Carbuncle [10:03pm]: HE MADE ME JIZZ IN MY PANTS
[10:03pm]: LIKE A TWELVE YEAR OLD
[10:04pm]: IM GOING TO DIE, QUICKSILVER. YOU CAN HAVE ALL OF MY STUFF.

Prompto choked on a snort. Embarrassing as fuck, but at least his buddy was getting some hot frottage action.

Quicksilver [10:05pm]: My poor virgin eyes

Carbuncle [10:05pm]: This is SERIOUS!!!

Quicksilver [10:06pm]: I’m gonna assume this is CB, or do I have any more rivals to be worried about?

Carbuncle [10:06pm]: YES CB!
[10:07pm]: He was such a cool, confident, sexy badass I’m going to die
[10:07pm]: AND HIS ABS
[10:07pm]: BRB

Quicksilver [10:08pm]: Gonna assume you’re jerking it to the memory, buddy. XD Try to get SOME sleep tonight, wankers cramp is a serious problem.

He didn’t get a reply to that so yeah, he knew what was going on there. Snickering, proud for his buddy — and not jealous, no shut up — he thanked his driver and headed into his house. Go get some, Bun. One of them should be at least.

Across town, Ignis stepped into the royal apartments he shared with Gladio and the prince. He paused in the doorway, and pulled a face at the sounds he could hear from the closed door of the bedroom. “He’s not seriously still at it?”

“Kid’s got it bad,” Gladio said, looking amused but still slightly disturbed.

From inside the bedroom, there was a cry of “haaah! Haaah! Prompto!” that Ignis would have preferred to live his entire life without hearing.

“Think we can convince Drautos that soundproofing could work with our security measures?” Gladio grunted, staring hard at his paperback novel.

“I wish.” He sat down on the opposite armchair to the Shield, wishing for a book too for the distraction. “I suppose it’s a good sign, at least?” He offered. “Our suspicions were correct.”

“Yeah,” Gladio grunted. “But it’s gonna get worse when Prompto actually moves in here.”

Ignis paused and shuddered away from the thought. “...I think I’ll simply burn those sheets.”

“Might want to throw his dinner suit on the bonfire too,” Gladio replied — and then gave Ignis a sly look to convey his meaning.

“Oh, goodness.” And then he had a thorough laugh at the prince’s expense. It was the least they deserved after being forced to hear the goings-on in the prince’s bedroom.

Chapter Text

When he was done laughing at Carbuncle’s misfortune, he opened up the stupidly long shoe box and saw a long pair of shiny leather books with laces up the front and black plaid fabric up the back to ensure they would fit smoothly to the calf. He opened the envelope from Gladio containing the next day’s itinerary.

Wednesday, the sheet of paper said, Daytime Excursion: The Royal Avistrian Park. There was that word again, he really had to find out what it was.

And then the instant he googled it, he didn’t give a shit about anything else in the entire world. Chocobos. Six damned, Tidemotherfucking chocobos!

He scrambled for the letter from Ignis and didn’t stop until he had the mobile number typed into his messenger app.

IGNIS!!!!!!!
Yes, speaking.
CHO CO BOS
Ah. Good evening, Prompto.
Dude dude dude dude dude. Can I skip brunch and go straight to the chocobo park?
Certainly I can arrange that for you. What time shall I order the car to take you?
Dude I can be ready at 6 sharp.
The car will be waiting at your leisure from then onward.
SWEET! YOU’RE THE BEST, IGGY!

Prompto hardly slept. He was way too excited. His alarm went off at five thirty, and he did quick sprints around the block so he could shower and get ready for the car’s arrival. He didn’t worry about the dress code—he didn’t care about impressing anyone today, not even the prince. Today was about him and his one true love in all the world — chocobos. He just dressed in a pair of old jeans and a plaid that matched closest to the patches on his new boots.

The car was waiting, just as Iggy had promised. The driver looked tired, but she still offered him a smile as she opened the door. “Excited for the day, Mr Argentum?”

“Kwek yeah,” he said with a grin. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.” He hadn’t even known there were chocobos in the city! Let alone he’d ever be allowed to go see them!

Her smile seemed to widen at his enthusiasm and she closed the door to move to the driver’s seat.

The Avistrian Park was behind a tall stone fence, a lush greenland of trees and meadows leading up to white-painted stable. It was still early, but there were already a few yellow birds milling around the pens. He didn’t cry. But it was a close call.

He didn’t even care what happened before this point, or for the rest of the Tournament. He had met the chocobos! He’d learned how to curry them (which was a fancy word for brushing them to get dirt out of their feathers???) and comb out their feathers. (“Sure, they’ll preen themselves in the wild,” the man said, in one of the weirdest accents he’d heard, “but these birds are spoiled. We have to do it for them.”) He helped rotate them out to the paddocks while they cleaned out their roosts (that was less fun but still important!). And then as it got closer to the end of brunch-time (he knew what brunch-time was now, what was happening to him?) the bird keeper said he was allowed to help saddle up the birds for the avistrian comp.

“You can start with this one,” he said, leading him to an especially fancy roost at the back of the stable. “She’s a sweet hen, she’ll let you learn.”

Inside the stable was a surprise — a black chocobo! He didn’t even know there were black chocobos!

She was standing patiently, beedy dark eyes peering at him with a surprising amount of intelligence. She made a low chirp of greeting, ruffling her feathers to show them off. “Hello pretty,” he cooed, coming over to lightly run his fingers over the smooth, shiny keratin of her beak. He chirped happily at the attention and shifted her head down so he could scritch the feathers around her beak and face. While he was doing that, he managed to buckle the bridle around her beak. “You gonna let me saddle you up?”

“She will.” He jumped and turned around in surprise and saw Prince Noctis leaning over the top of the roost doors. “Have you really been here since six in the morning?”

“Yeah!” he said eagerly. “I’ve learned so much and I’ve taken so many pictures, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life.” He couldn’t stop beaming about it.

The prince was looking at him, a sort of soft expression on his face. Or… maybe he was just sleepy. Why would the prince be soft about him? “Missed you at brunch.”

“Dude. Chocobos.” He said it as if that explained everything — cause it totally did!

The prince chuckled a bit. “Need a hand with the saddle?” He asked, pushing open the hinged doors of the roost.

Prompto finally got to see what he was actually wearing. He started with the polished-to-shining riding boots, fitted closely around his calves like they were made for him — wait, they probably actually were. After that there was a pair of tight black suede leggings, with the insides of his legs and thighs reinforced with leather. He had a fitted blazer jacket thing on, with shiny gold buttons from below his crotch up to his collarbone, where the stiff collar gaped a little to reveal his adam’s apple. His hair was neatly combed and tied back in the cutest little ponytail he’d ever seen.

He wanted to die. Prince Noctis was so pretty.

“Huh...what?” He asked, lifting his head up to look at him. “What did you say?”

The prince chuckled. “Did you want help putting on the saddle?”

“Uh…” He looked at the saddle with its multitude of different straps. “Yes please.”

Prompto did all the lifting and fixing and everything, while the prince gestured and gave instructions. He was about to complain about doing all the work, when he noticed Noctis giving a slight wince when he gestured with his hand. “You okay?” He asked. “You hurt your wrist?”

A slight pink blush rose under the prince’s skin. “Just a cramp. It’ll loosen up.”

He gave him a concerned look but nodded. He finished saddling up the chocobo and then offered the lead to the prince. Prince Noctis hummed in surprise as he took them. “She’s yours right?” Prompto said. “Aren’t you gonna warm her up before the comp?”

“She was my training bird,” the prince explained, giving her beak a fond stroke. “She’s the most placid, patient hen in the flock.” He gave her lead over to Prompto again, his gloved fingers warm as he wrapped the blond’s fingers back around the leather. “I was going to lend her to you for the day.”

“Me?” He asked, floored. “But I wasn’t going to join the comp. I don’t know how to ride.”

“Yeah. I figured.” The prince smiled, his expression gentle again. “I thought we could go on a trail ride instead.”

“W-we?” He stuttered, confused. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the competition?”

“Probably,” the prince agreed, his smile widening into a crooked grin in the most endearing way. “But I’d rather spend the day with you, instead.”

It struck him forcefully in that moment that Gladio and Ignis hadn’t been flattering him yesterday when they’d said he was actually a possible option for the Delicium. His cheeks felt hot and he realised he was blushing. He must look an absolute mess — he hadn’t even straightened and gelled his hair that morning. It was probably spiked up all over the place. He was filthy with work, and dressed in some of his oldest, most worn-in clothes.

What the actual fuck did Prince Noctis see in him? Was it just his body? Cause that was fair. He was proud of his figure, he worked hard for it every day.

He knew the position had something to do with sex, but surely there had to be more to it than that? He really had to find out what else though.

“Kay.”

“Yeah?” The Prince said with a bright smile. “So you’ll come with me?”

“Okay.” Blushing, he tried to smooth his hair down with a hand. “So, uh… how do you get up on the saddle?”

They were lying on the grass on a hillside, heads together as they watched the sky change colour above the wall. Between them, their pinkie fingers were just lightly hooked together.

Prompto had never felt so close to someone or so terrified about how nice it felt.

The sun had disappeared beyond the wall a while ago, but the sky was starting to pink. The chocobos — the black hen and the yellow cob Prince Noctis had ridden — were grazing nearby.

Prompto held up the camera, snapping a shot of the sky. Then he shyly turned to look at the prince. “Can I take a selfie of us?”

He huffed, but said: “yeah, I guess.”

Prompto held the camera up in the air, pointing the lens towards them. He snapped the photo, then turned around to look at the viewer. “Dude,” he said awed, “the camera loves you.” If only he looked better it would’ve been a nice shot — selfies always made his face look so fat.

He snapped a picture of the birds and then tucked the camera back in his pocket. He settled comfortably back into the grass, nuzzling his head a little against the Prince’s head.

“We should probably go back soon,” he said, though he sounded reluctant to admit it. “Specs has been blowing up my inbox for the past hour about getting back in time for dinner.”

Prompto groaned in defeat. “Yeah. I guess.” He sighed. “I’d have to go home and get clothes.”

“You can borrow something of mine,” the Prince offered, as if that was something Prompto could just do. “We’re about the same size.”

He tangled their fingers together to give them a slight squeeze. “People will talk.”

“Let them.”

Reluctant on both of their sides, they rode the birds back to the stables — Prompto maybe cried a bit when he had to say goodbye. He rubbed at his face awkwardly as they waited for Gladio to come around with the car.

“You’ve got smudge on your cheek,” Prince Noctis pointed out, his voice low and scarily intimate. Prompto blushed, tried to wipe at it. He laughed softly — “you’re making it worse. Here.” He took a black handkerchief out of his pocket and carefully began to wipe the mess away.

Prompto’s breath stuttered, and he looked across the short distance into the prince’s eyes, a deep sapphire blue in the fading light. The hankie fluttered to the ground beside them, but the prince’s hand stayed—fingertips ever so lightly resting against Prompto’s cheek. The moment seemed to stretch, staring into each others’s eyes, breathing deep and in sync.

There was turbulence building in Prompto’s stomach, excitement and terror and expectation. He never did like the waiting game. “Just kiss me already,” he demanded, words slipping out before he could think about them. Maybe think about whether he could demand anything from the prince, let alone a kiss.

But oh, he did. Did he ever.

Chapter Text

Quicksilver [6:45pm]: I think I might have met someone.

Prompto watched the screen of his cell, knee jiggling anxiously, trying to send a psychic message to Carbuncle to check his cell and reply.

Making out with Prince Noctis presses up against the side of the chocobo stables? Fantastic.

Getting caught by Gladio whose method of alerting them to his presence was pressing down impatiently on the horn of the sleek black car? Less fantastic.

Coming back to the Citadel only to find His Royal Majesty waiting for them in the prince’s rooms? Not fantastic at all.

King Regis hadn’t even looked disapproving. When Prince Noctis had stumbled over himself to try and explain, the king had just held up a hand to silence him and given them both a fond smile. “During my Delicium Tournament, Cid and I stole a car and absconded into Cavaugh. Your grandfather was not pleased, but I will choose to view your little joyriding adventure with indulgence.” He lowered his hand and gave Prince Noctis a serious look. “My son, it seems as if you are close to a decision. I must have a discussion with you before you present your choices on Friday.”

The prince squeezed Prompto’s hand and bowed to his father. “Of course, your majesty. My dressing room?”

The king limped toward the room in question, limping lightly on a delicate gold cane. Weird, Prompto didn’t remember him using a cane — maybe it was something he didn’t do in public?

Prince Noctis said he’d find them both clothes after he was done, and headed into the other room after his father.

Everything had hit Prompto in that moment. Kissing the prince, the idea that he might actually be picked. And it really didn’t help that the dressing room was not soundproof at all. He could pretty much hear everything perfectly clearly.

“Dad, sit down, please…” the Prince begged.

“I’m perfectly well, Noct. Don’t trouble yourself.” But that was definitely the sound of someone much heavier than Noct settling into a creaky chair. “This Argentum boy,” the king began, “you will be naming him as Candidate?”

Prompto’s heart was in his throat at that one, he could feel it choking him.

“Yeah,” the Prince said, and it made something in Prompto’s chest ache to hear him so affectionate. “I’m sure.”

“I’m not displeased with your decision, Noct,” the king began carefully. “But I want you to be conscious of the role you will be expecting him to fulfil. In the flush of youth, your decision is tempted by only the main factor. But passion fades, and he is an ill choice if you are not content to have him beside you as a comrade when you are at your wits end and there is no other comfort in the world but his company.”

“I have two more days, Dad. How am I supposed to be sure of that?” The prince’s voice was wound up with some sort of panicked desperation.

“I will give you the advice your grandfather gave me, after I came back from my adventure with Cid. Stop looking to him as a lover, the physical act often becomes just one more duty you must fulfil in your many as crown prince. Look to him instead as your best friend. If you cannot see beyond your desire, then there probably is nothing more to your connection. If you cannot bear the thought of staying up all through a sleepless, heartsore night until the pale hours of the morning just conversing with him, do not nominate him.” He paused a moment, to let the weight of his words. “I’ll also grant you the advice Clarus gave me, though rephrased — you wouldn’t want to hear your father speak the words he did. Bed him, and soon — first times are inevitably clumsy and awkward. If you still want to wake up next to him in the morning, then maybe your connection will last.”

Prince Noctis gave a forced, awkward laugh. “Amicitias. Like father like son, am I right?”

His majesty laughed as well. Then, after the moment settled, he continued: “And my own advice, which only just occurred to me: ask the rest of your retinue. If they decidedly don’t want to spend the rest of their lives with him in proximity, you probably won’t either.”

“Specs and Gladio picked him,” Prince Noctis pointed out.

“They also picked Domitian Drautos. And do you want to spend more than ten minutes with him?”

“Six no.”

“My point exactly. As I said, Noct. I think Mr Argentum is a fine choice. I wish you the best of luck in the next few days.”

“Is that it?” Prince Noctis asked, sounding like the sullen teenager he actually was.

“Ask your Shield for tips about the act. Neither of us want to have that conversation, and if the gossip about the training rooms is to be believed, he has plenty of experience.”

“Yep, okay we’re done.”

The two of them came out of the dressing room a few moments later. Prompto was staring at the screen of his cell, the still un-seen message to Carbuncle burned into his eyes, trying really hard not to think about everything he’d just overheard.

“Well, you two have a dinner to attend. I’ll leave you to it. Good evening, Mr Argentum.”

“Goodnight, your majesty,” he answered — mostly on reflex at that point because his brain had taken the 7 o’clock train to Abort Abort Abort Station.

The room was quiet and charged, until Prince Noctis spoke again. “Prompto? You okay?”

He closed his cell and swallowed thickly, looking up at the Prince’s beautiful, concerned face. “Okay so I heard… all of that,” he choked out.

Prince Noctis winced. “...right. I always forget the way the acoustics are built in this apartment. It’s a security measure — you can hear everything, in case there’s an attack or something.” He sat down across from Prompto, still wearing that concerned look. “Did it scare you off?”

“I’m not forever material, Prince Noctis,” he forced out of his closed throat.

“You’ve has my tongue in your mouth. Pretty sure you can just call me Noctis now.”

A half-panicked bark of a laugh escaped his throat, and he tried to take a deep breath or two to calm the kwek down. “I’m not a long-term guy,” he tried again, “I’m not the kind of person you wanna stay up all night talking with. I’m not even the kind of guy you wanna spend more than a few hours with. This natural charm?” He pointed a thumb at his chest, “wears off real fucking quick. I’m hot now, and damn it was not easy to get to this point. But I am hot and you’re thinking with your dick and you won’t actually like me once you get to know me.”

His own six-damned parents couldn’t put up with him any longer than they ethically had to. He’d never had a real friend in his life — the only person who came close was Carbuncle, who literally fell asleep on him mid-conversation on the reg and sometimes went days without checking in.

“Wow. You really have absolutely zero self confidence, don’t you?” Noctis asked. There was something reserved about his voice, a wall he was building between himself and the truth.

“Maybe like two whole self confidences,” he attempted a joke with a weak smile. “I’m serious, Noctis. Everything your dad—Uh, his majesty said. And we’re lucky we both got to hear this before I went and said yes to you, and ruined your life completely.”

“You would’ve said yes?” Noctis asked, his voice soft and hopeful.

“Dude, read the moment,” he said. “But duh. Of course I would have. You’re—” He featured to Noctis’s everything, “—you.”

“Me what?” He asked, his voice guarded again. “Royalty? You would’ve said yes to me because I was the prince?”

“No,” he snapped, frustrated. “You’re you. An unfairly beautiful, scarily genuine, shy teenage dude with a soft spot for idiots who trip over themselves for you. Who the fuck wouldn’t want you?”

“...and you wonder why I want you,” Noctis said softly, coming over to sit next to him. “I think you’re the first person I’ve ever met who actually cares about who I am as an actual person.” He reached up, holding his face in the lightest touch — Prompto was vividly reminded that this was how Noctis had touched him back at the stables. “Even Specs and Gladio, the only friends I’ve got I get see every day—I’m always the Prince first and Noctis second.” His second hand came up to brush hair out of Prompto’s face. “And I don’t know if this is real, of course I don’t. It’s been three days since we properly met, and I’ve probably never spent more than eight hours with you in total. But I want to, Prompto.”

The words, the soft touches, they were completely undoing him. He couldn’t keep his resolve when Noctis was gentling it away with every breath. “So what do we do?” He asked, his voice rough.

“I think we do like Dad says. We spend the night together — we have our awkward First Time together, and then we stay up as late as we can keep talking. Then in the morning, if we can still stand to look at each other, I take you to Brunch.”

He took a shaky breath. It would prove it, after all — strip away Noctis’s sex goggles so he could see the waste of space Prompto really was underneath. But it was so terrifying, so tempting.

He swallowed. “Okay,” he agreed. “But not here. You wanna find out if you like me, the real me? You gotta come to my place and see how I really live.”

“Okay. Deal.” Noctis sealed it with a kiss, and Prompto wanted to press into the touch and disappear forever.

So he made himself pull away. “I’m going home. I can’t sit through dinner and Organised Debates with my mind a mess like this. Come by after?”

“Yeah.” He paused. “Gladio will have to come. I can’t go anywhere without him.”

“I’ll make up a bed for him,” he agreed. “Can you call Iggy to send for my car?”

Quicksilver [6:45pm]: I think I might have met someone.

Carbuncle [7:30pm]: I’m pretty sure you should remember if you met someone or not, Sil.

Quicksilver [7:31pm]: This is serious, Bun. Like… possibly long-term boyfriend serious.

Carbuncle [7:42pm]: That is serious.
[7:45pm]: Sil? You still there?

Quicksilver [8:04pm]: Sorry. Stress cleaning.
[8:16pm]: So basically I met this guy at the age division comp right? Absolutely beautiful, like the Astrals themselves wept when they created him because he was too beautiful. And for some reason, he thinks he likes me back???? But I have to be sure it’s real. I’m terrified it won’t be.
[8:17pm]: And I’m terrified it will.

Carbuncle [8:29pm]: You sound like you’re already pretty sure, Sil.

Quicksilver [8:30pm]: I am. But I need him to be too.

Carbuncle [8:32pm]: You’re literally the best person I’ve ever not-actually-met, Quicksilver. This guy will find out pretty quickly how amazing you are. He’s

Quicksilver [8:40pm]: Bun??

Carbuncle [8:44pm]: He’s lucky to have you.
[8:46pm]: And if he hurts you, I have an even older big brother addicted to working out who I will send to track him down and kick his ass.

Quicksilver [8:47pm]: Thanks, Bun. You’re the best bro.

Carbuncle [8:52pm]: Look, I’ve got this super important, life changing thing I have to get ready for and go to. But message me if you need to vent, promise? I’ll answer in the morning. When I can.

Quicksilver [8:53pm]: Yeah. Good luck, Bun. Night.

Carbuncle [8:54pm]: Goodnight, Sil.

Chapter Text

Prompto took a deep, steadying breath as he heard the doorbell ring. “Okay, Prompto,” he told his reflection, “you can do this. It’s only one night and then everything will be over.”

Padding through the hallways in his yellow chocobo socks (for luck), he went to the front door and opened it. He had expected Noctis and Gladio. He had not expected the ever-fastidiously dressed Ignis to be there too.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly, holding the door open to let them in. Gladio dwarfed his doorway and hallway as he stepped in to untie the laces of his combat boots. He was tall and crazy broad — it was less noticeable in the lofty halls of the Citadel, but intensely obvious as Noctis and Iggy had to squeeze past him to enter the house.

“Hi,” the prince greeted, soft and shy. “Your parents aren’t home?”

“Out of town.” Still in Altissia, he assumed. He’d received a brief “good luck” text from them in response to his news about the tournament, but nothing else. “Um. I didn’t know you’d be coming too, Ignis. I only made up the one bed.”

“It’s fine,” Gladio grunted, finally free of his boots. “We gotta sleep in shifts anyway. For his highness’s safety.”

Noctis awkwardly rubbed his neck. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s weird, right?”

“It’s okay. Um. I’ll give you the tour.”

It was a modest-sized house, but he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about how small it was compared to the Citadel as he showed them around. The bottom floor was just the kitchen, dining room, living area with a small powder room — and upstairs was the two bedrooms as the main bathroom.

“I’ve put you in the other room,” Prompto said, as they inspected his room for entry points and...who knows, safety concerns or whatever.

He absolutely hated the moment Gladio’s eyebrows quirked up as he found Prompto’s progress reminder shot stuck on the mirror. He turned away, stinging with shame at the perceived judgement. Noctis knew what he used to look like, but Gladio was a buff hottie who’d probably glared away his baby fat when he was a toddler.

“Does this computer have a web-camera?” Ignis asked from beside his desk.

“Uh. No. I don’t use one,” he said, confused by the question.

Ignis nodded. “We must confiscate all your image capturing devices,” he informed Prompto, and sounded apologetic about it, “including your cellphone.”

“Specs,” Noctis said, agitated.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Prompto said quietly. “Can’t be taking blackmail shots or stuff to sell to the paparazzi, right?”

Ignis nodded, looking kinda pleased. “Thank you for your understanding.”

He pulled his little red camera off charge and handed it to Ignis, along with his cell. “You can go through my shots, if you want. Make sure there’s nothing I’m not supposed to have.”

Ignis nodded and placed the devices in a little box. “Yours too, Noctis.”

“Come on,” he complained, handing over his own. “This is over the top.”

“You’re lucky his majesty gave the green light, Noct,” Gladio grunted. “Or you wouldn’t be here at all.”

“We will set ourselves into the other room,” Ignis said, touching Gladio’s bicep.

“Yeah. Okay. Um… make yourself at home. There’s juice and stuff in the fridge if you get thirsty.”

“Thanks.” Ignis headed to the door, but Gladio lingered. He shoved a paper bag with the drugstore logo printed on it at Noctis’s chest. “Alright, listen up,” he said, sounding almost angry. He was probably going for intimidating, but it made Prompto’s heart race. “There’s an economy sized tube of lube in there, and condoms. Use them.”

“Gladio!” Noctis cried, embarrassed.

“And especially the condoms!” Gladio growled, ignoring his protest. “Barebacking might sound sexy and romantic but you know what doesn’t? Urethral infections, anal tears and STIs. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Prompto said, feeling all the blood flood into his cheeks. “Got it.”

“I found out you haven’t used ‘em? You’ll be answering to me. And if that doesn’t sink in, you’ll be answering to Drautos.”

“We got it, Gladio. Fuck!” Noctis said, frustrated.

“Great. Three fingers is good to prep but four is better. There’s no such thing as too much lube. Listen to your bodies — if it hurts, stop doing it. There’s a manual for basic positions for first time lovers in the bag, don’t try and get complicated on your first time. And for six’s sake, try and keep it down. Iggy and I have to be on alert.”

“Yep.” Prompto said, pretty sure he was just going to drop dead from embarrassment right then and there. Just when he thought he had a chance of not dying a virgin. “Thanks. TVs hooked up to Netflix in the bedroom.”

Gladio headed back out. The two of them just stood awkwardly next to each other, Noctis’s hands clenched around the paper bag.

“...well. That killed the mood,” Prompto said, his face still flushed red. “You wanna watch a movie or listen to some music or…?”

“Uh. Maybe some music?” Noctis answered. “Don’t know if I can focus on a movie.”

“Yeah. Cool cool cool,” he said hurriedly. “Um. Make yourself comfortable?” He gestured to the bed and hurried over to the computer desk. When he wriggled the mouse, he quickly clicked out of the chat with Carbuncle before Noctis could spot his freaking out about tonight. But then his face bloomed bright red when he saw what had been hidden behind it.

He’d been messing around with the photos he’d taken at the chocobo farm while he waited for Carbuncle to come online. But the one he’d left it on was the selfie of him and Noctis laying against the grass. “Uh…”

“It’s a good picture,” Noctis said quietly, only a few feet away on the bed. “I, Uh, had Ignis check out your Instagram page and show me some of the posts. You’re really good.”

Could he get away with yeeting himself out of the window????? Probably not. That would send Gladio running in to protect the prince. He’d probably be obligated to save him or something.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “You couldn’t look yourself?” He asked, confused.

“I’ve got dumbass parental software on all of my stuff — for my own safety and well-being. Most of the time it’s just easier to ask Specs to print stuff for me than fill out the paperwork to request access to the restricted stuff.”

“Oh. That sucks.” He didn’t really know what to say to that. “Um. Am I even allowed to have this photo of you? They did just confiscate all my stuff.”

“As long as it’s not inappropriate and you don’t post it anywhere. I’m a minor, so there’s some messy legal shit about publicising images of me.” He rubbed his hands through his hair awkwardly. “But you can keep it. Uh… can I have a copy?” He asked shyly. “It’s the only photo of the two of us together.”

“Y-Yeah,” he stuttered out, and would he have a heart attack from all the blood being pumped into his face instead of the rest of his body. “Um. Printed or should I email?”

“Can I have both?” He asked shyly.

Prompto nodded. He pressed the button to send it through his specialised digital photography printer loaded with the right paper, and then opened up his email account to send the email. “Address?”

“C-A-”

Prompto’s fingers had already followed muscle memory to type the next R-B of Carbuncle before he hurriedly backspaced and hovered his finger over the E to spell Caelum. But the prince had fallen silent. “Noctis?”

“Sorry. I just realised, I probably can’t give you my actual email yet. Um, I’ll give you Specs’s so he can forward it to me.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]

[Image Attachment]

Hey Ignis,

Noctis wants you to forward this to him.

Uh…. I promise this is the only photo of him I have! I took it today at the chocobo farm. You don’t have to confiscate my whole hard drive now to check do you????

Do you guys need the WiFi password?

-Prompto A.

He shrunk the window so he could turn some music on. By the time he had a Get In The Mood playlist on Spotify, he’d received a reply from Ignis.

To: “Prompto Argentum” [[email protected]]
From: “Ignis Scientia, Esq.” [[email protected]]

To Prompto,

Please advise His Highness that I have forwarded the image on to his security team so that it can be verified as appropriate for his receipt. Which he bloody well knows he has to do when he wants to receive something.

Unfortunately I cannot rely solely on your word regarding the matter of your photographs containing images of his highness. The contents of your hard drive will have to be verified by the security team, but that matter can wait until business hours.

You have our gratitude for the offer of the use of your home network, however we are using the secure server on a hotspot as provided by the Citadel.

Kind Regards,

Lord Ignis Scientia, Esq
Chamberlain to his Royal Highness, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV.

“Shit,” Prompto mumbled, closing out of the email and turning the desk chair to face Noctis. “I’m in trouble with Iggy about that photo.”

The prince groaned and stretched out on the bed, covering his face with one hand. “I’m sorry. I wish things could just be easy sometimes.”

Prompto attempted a joke: “Hey, if you want something easy, have you met me?”

The joke fell flat on a charged silence, a slight blush building up under Noctis’s cheeks. “...come here?” He asked, patting the bed beside him.

The bed really wasn’t big enough for two. When he lay down, their bodies were pressed right up beside each other. “You look nice tonight,” he said quietly, making himself comfortable. “I haven’t seen you this casual so far this week.”

“I know. It sucks,” Noctis complained, turning his head on the pillow to look at Prompto’s lying beside him. “I hate all this fussy, formal stuff. This is what I like to wear normally. Just...regular people clothes. T-shirts and cargos or jeans.”

“Well, this is me,” he said quietly. “This is what I look like when I get out of the shower in the morning.”

“I like it,” Noctis whispered, reaching up to brush his fingers through the fly away locks of Prompto’s hair.

“I like this side of you,” Prompto offered, licking his lips slightly. “The lazy, regular teenager side. Just Noctis.”

The prince took that as an opportunity to lean in and press their lips together. He let it stay gentle for a moment, small, short, soft kisses exchanged between them.

Then when Noctis made a content little sigh, lips parting open, Prompto pressed deeper. He shifted so he was leaning over him, hands going to bury in his soft, dark hair.

“Prompto,” Noctis whimpered, parting their lips. He brought them together again, tongue teasing out. Hands grabbed Prompto’s hips, tugging until their thighs were slotted together.

Okay! Okay… this was happening. There was grinding action happening. That was his dick rubbing up against the prince’s thigh, and that was a royal boner he could feel against his in return.

Nope. Nu-Uh. He couldn’t do this. Not yet. Not until he told Noctis everything.

He pulled away, sitting up on the edge of his bed and trying to catch his breath.

“Prompto?” Noctis asked, his voice gentle and concerned between panting breaths. “Are you okay? Did I go too fast?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said, swallowing tightly. “I just… There’s some stuff I have to tell you. About me. Before I let you go ahead and fuck me.”

The prince took a deep breath and sat up, leaning against the headboard. “Yeah. Okay.” He took a deep breath. “I’m listening.”

Prompto’s pulse was thundering in his chest. Air wasn’t fitting into his lungs right. His fingers trembled as he moved them towards his arm and peeled off the sweatband covering his wrist.

Chapter Text

“Prompto?”

He took a shaky breath, staring down at his yellow-covered feet on the floor of his room. “You know I was adopted, right?”

“Yeah,” Noctis answered quietly, “it was in your file.”

He closed his eyes, not wanting the prince to see them all shiny with tears he was trying to hold back. “Did it also say I was born in Niflheim?”

There was a long pause as Noctis digested that information. “No,” he replied softly. “It didn’t. Just that it was a private, closed adoption.” He reached out, gently touching Prompto’s shoulder. “Who cares where you were born?” He murmured. It wasn’t aggressive, just calm and accepting.

“Heh…” He leaned into the touch, drawing comfort from it while the prince still dared touch him. “There’s more, though.”

“You can tell me,” Noctis said calmly.

“I don’t know much,” he said quietly. “The Argentums… my dads. They’re spies for the Insomnian Government. They found me when I was just a baby. A few days old probably.”

“Found you?”

“They said they would tell me more when I get older,” he whispered. “But…” He took a shaky breath and turned over his wrist, so he could see the barcode that had haunted him since he was old enough to realise nobody else had one. “If they chose to rescue me, it must’ve been somewhere pretty bad.” So bad the Citadel didn’t hesitate to grant him refugee status citizenship. Eyes squeezed shut, he offered his arm to Noctis, so he could see his secret shame. “Bad enough they brand newborns like boxes in a grocery store.”

The prince’s hand left his shoulder, just like he was expecting. He wanted to curl in on himself, hide from the world so he didn’t have to see the disgust on the prince’s face.

His breath left his lungs in a rough push when he felt warm breath on the skin of his wrist, a moment before warm lips met inked flesh. He turned his head around to look at Noctis in disbelief as he lifted his face away from the marked arm.

“Noctis?” He asked, his voice cracking.

“I’m so sorry, Prompto,” he said. “That you had to go through that, even if you can’t remember. That it still affects you now.”

“Why aren’t you disgusted?” He croaked out.

A little pucker of confusion pulled between black eyebrows. “Why would I be?” He replied. “It doesn’t change who you are. It’s something that was done to you, when you were so young…” His fists clenched in his lap. “I hate them. The Empire. They hurt so many people. I wish I could just destroy them all.”

Prompto inhaled shakily. “That’d be including me,” he pointed out nervously.

“No, you’re not one of them,” he said firmly. “You’re a crown citizen. You’re one of us. And you’re one of their victims.” Prompto winced at the word. “I’m not a victim, Noctis.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said softly. “I just meant… they hurt you too. Would’ve hurt you more if you hadn’t gotten away.”

“I guess…” He still didn’t quite believe it. Noctis was okay with his secret? “I don’t know where I’m from, or who I really am.”

“You’re Prompto,” the prince insisted quietly. “That’s who you really are.” He reached up to stroke Prompto’s hair again. “So what was this big thing you had to tell me before we could have sex?” The tone was just playful enough to show that he wasn’t dismissing Prompto’s secret or his struggle to confess it — but enough to show that it hadn’t changed his feelings or intentions whatsoever.

Prompto gave a shaky laugh. “Give me a minute, would you?” He asked. “I’m still in shock about the fact you didn’t scream for your Shield to throw me in prison for treason.”

Noctis turned his head to face him so he could press their lips together. “I wouldn’t,” he promised. “Not for where you were born.” His lips turned up into a playful smile. “I might have to for giving me blue balls though.”

Prompto laughed, feeling his tension ease away. He reached down to grab the bag off the ground, ripping open the strip of sticky tape to shake out its contents. A big tube of lube with a flip-cap, a box of Size Regular, Pre-Lubricated condoms and a handy pamphlet of anatomically correct illustrations. He picked up the box of condoms and gave a subtle smile, “do you think Gladio got a disappointed look when he came up to the counter to buy size regular?”

Noctis laughed and whacked him in the arm with the back of his hand. “Dude. I don’t wanna think about Gladio right now.”

“Why not?” Prompto teased, peeling off the freshness plastic from the cap of the lube. “Gladio’s hot.”

“He’s known me since I was in diapers,” Noctis complained, cheeks going pink as he looked at the first page of the manual. “Uh. So… how are you gonna do this? Like… who’s who?”

Prompto looked at him with a smirk. “Well… I figured you might wanna top, if you were nervous about not knowing what to do,” he said, shifting so he was straddling Noctis’s thighs and leaning close to give him a quick, sexy kiss. “So I might have… prepped a little bit in the shower before you came.”

Noctis’s hips bucked up needily, blood blooming under his cheeks. “Shit, Prompto. You’re going to kill me.”

“No, don’t die,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss him again and running his fingers along the fabric of his shirt. “You won’t get to fuck me if you’re dead.” He was still having an internal freak out — about the Niff thing, and Noctis being so chill with it, about the fact he was about to lose his virginity, about the fact the literal prince of the kingdom was in his bed — but he made sure he seemed cool and confident. He’d already pulled the brakes once on them.

Noctis moaned, hands reaching up to grip his hands in Prompto’s hair. He held him in place as they kissed, deep and dirty. Prompto lifted the black t-shirt away from his stomach, running his hands against the soft skin he found underneath as he pushed the fabric up. They had to separate so the shirt could go over his head, and once he was bare chested, Prompto leaned back to admire him in the light of his room.

The prince was skinny — only the slightest hint of muscles around his shoulders and biceps. There was still a lankyness to his ribs and shoulders that said he still had some filling out to do. There was a slight trail of dark hair going down from his belly button to the waistband of his black cargos.

“Do you have to stare?” Noctis asked huffily.

“Well, I’m not allowed to take a picture. So I’ve gotta commit it to memory.” Giving him a teasing grin, he leaned down to begin kissing a path from his neck to the rim of his pants. “I want to suck you,” he whispered. That was a good start, right?

Apparently two good a start. Noctis’s hips jerked up as he gave a strangled cry of Prompto’s name. Had he just…? The dampness around his deflating dick said that yeah, yeah he had.

HE MADE ME JIZZ IN MY PANTS LIKE A TWELVE YEAR OLD, Carbuncle had caps locked at him. Well. Apparently he was just as good as CB.

Noctis covered his face with his hands and made a wounded noise. “I can’t believe—” He made a groan of embarrassment and disappointment. “Just throw me off the Wall, I beg you.”

Prompto laughed a little at that, but took pity on him. He leaned up to kiss Noctis between the palms of his hands. “Hey. It’s a compliment.” He kissed him again and again until the hands removed and he could kiss him properly. “Besides. Now you’ve come once, when you get hard again you’ll last longer.”

Noctis was still a teenage boy after all, if he was anything like Prompto he could have it up again in five minutes.

“I guess…” he mumbled, not sounding any less mortified.

“Here. Let’s get you out of those pants,” Prompto said quietly. He unfastened the button and unzipping the fly. He bunched the cargos and boxers together in his hands as he pulled them free from his legs. While he was there, he tugged off his socks too. There was nothing sexy about being naked except for socks.

He grabbed a box of tissues and cleaned up the rest of the mess from Noctis’s dick and the patch of wiry black hair. By the time he was done, tossing the tissue into the wastepaper basket across the room, the Prince was half-hard again.

“Come here,” Noctis said, tugging his shoulders up.

“Don’t you want me to blow you?” Prompto asked. He’d definitely been watching videos to double-check his technique. (Not that he’d ever had opportunity to use his technique but he’d imagined okay!)

“Not yet,” the prince replied. “I want you to come up here so we can kiss again.”

“Yes sir,” he said playfully, shifting up to bring their lips together again.

Noctis was just that little bit more uncoordinated, probably blissed out from coming. But when he really got into it, he turned them so Prompto was the one laying against the pillows. “You’re so hot, Prompto,” he whispered reverently.

“Thanks, I try,” Prompto said, giving the prince a cheeky grin.

Noctis snorted softly and shoved up Prompto’s shirt, leaning down to kiss and lick at his abs. His hand searched the sheets until he found the lube, fiddling with the drawstring of Prompto’s sweats. “You ready?” He asked.

“Yeah,” he said. He’d used a couple fingers and some body wash in the shower, so at least they weren’t diving into this completely unprepared.

He lifted his hips to let Noctis pull the pants off. “You’re not wearing underwear,” the prince whispered heatedly.

“Dude. You were coming over to get laid. Just seemed like unnecessary work later.” He laughed nervously.

“So fucking hot,” Noctis mumbled. Tossing the pants somewhere else in the room — Prompto winced at the sound of something being knocked over — he gave the exposed dick a tentative stroke or two. There was a pause as the prince flipped open the manual. “So, um. Looks like it’ll be easier if you’re on your side, or lying face down on the bed with a pillow?”

Prompto laughed softly. He turned over and rose up on his hands and knees, basic doggy style. “Go on.”

Noctis’s breath hitched. He fumbled the flick the cap open and cover his fingers one one hand. “You’ll tell me if it hurts, right?” He asked, closing the cap and dropping it back on the bed.

“Yeah.” He shivered at the cold feeling as Noctis’s finger shyly ran up and down his crack. He spread his legs a little further, opening himself up more. “It’s okay. You can push it in.”

“Right.” Taking a deep breath, Noct’s fingertip found his entrance and pushed. With the body wash and stuff earlier, there wasn’t much resistance before his finger slid in a couple knuckles.

Prompto yelped: “cold! Cold!”

“I’m sorry,” the prince said, sounding mortified. “Should I…?” The finger started to withdraw.

Prompto clenched tight as if that could stop it. “No! It’s fine. Just shocked me. Put it all the way in.”

He heard Noctis take a deep breath behind him and then the finger pushed in deeper. “You’re so hot and tight,” he mumbled.

“H-heh. Thanks.” Okay. This felt a little weird. It wasn’t as cold now, but Noctis’s finger went in deeper than his own had. “Uh. I think you gotta like… move it around a bit?”

Noctis moved over a bit to consult the manual. “There’s supposed to be like… a thing. A nubby thing? Inside you?”

“What, like a G-spot?” Prompto asked. “Isn’t that just girls?”

“It’s in the manual.” Noctis said. His finger wriggled around a bit which — Okay, weird. But then he sort of bent it upwards and

“Fuck!” he cried out. “Oh shit. Yeah. Right there.”

“Think I can feel it,” Noctis mumbled. He rubbed his finger against it again, and magic sparks of pleasure wriggled all the way up Prompto’s spine. “Good?”

“Y-Yeah, dude.”

“Maybe don’t call me dude when we’re fucking?” Noctis mumbled. He started to pull his finger out. “I’m gonna put another one in, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” He took a deep breath, trying to flex into it as the second finger pushed in next to the first. He grunted — that hurt a little bit, well it was more of a pressure than pain. “Just… wait there a bit. It’s a bit much.”

“Okay.” Noctis started kissing up his spine as he did that. When he nodded, the prince pushed his fingers in deeper and bent them to touch the nub thing inside him. “Good?”

“Yeah,” he panted, nodding. “Just… keep going.”

“It says I’m supposed to… ‘scissor my fingers’. What like… chop chop?” Noctis made a sort of snipping motion with his fingers — stretching him open a little wider as he did.

Prompto couldn’t help but laugh. “Chop chop? That was not sexy.”

“Sorry,” he replied, sounding flustered. He kept spreading his fingers open and closed, then during one of the wide stretches, he pushed another finger in. “Still good?”

“Yeah.” His voice was just a touch strained. “Hurts just a lil. But not bad! Don’t pull out. Just… hold it.”

There was a pause. Then Noctis said, sounding awkward as fuck. “My fingers are up your ass, Prompto. That’s where you shit from.”

Prompto wheezed a laugh at that, lifting one of his hands to lightly facepalm. “Oh my god, dude. Yeah. Anal sex.”

“Sorry, I just… realised. I kinda wanna be wearing gloves right now.”

Prompto laughed again and turned his head over his shoulder to look back at him. “Look, Gladio gave me a butt douche thing before I left, okay? Squeaky clean, you could eat out of it.”

“...Prompto I’m not putting my mouth on your asshole.”

“Goodbye rimjob fantasies,” Prompto said dramatically. “It’s okay. It’s no big deal.”

“Rim… wait, that’s not a thing people actually do right?” Noctis asked in disbelief.

“Look at page nine.”

“Page nine…” There was a quick flip of pages. “Dear six. You’re not kidding.”

“Yeah. It’s a thing.” He shook his head and dropped is head back down to look at the mattress. “And you totally don’t gotta do that. And you can move your fingers now, if you still wanna.”

Noctis did, moving them in and out and concentrating hard. “I don’t think I’m any wider than my three fingers,” he said thoughtfully.

“Kay.” He took a deep breath. “Condom then.”

Noctis slid his fingers back out — Prompto felt vaguely empty for a minute which he guessed was a good sign? And all squishy inside from the lube. Weird fucking feeling. — and cleaned them with a tissue. When Prompto turned to look at him, he was squinting at his nails.

“Dude. Go scrub them if you want to. There’s a nailbrush in the medicine cabinet.”

“No. It’s okay. They’re clean.” He reached for the box of condoms and shook it open, a long chain of foil packets slipping out onto the bed. He fumbled with them, breaking off one packet and tearing it open. He looked at the round rubber object in his hand and gave a very eloquent “uhh”.

“What?”

“There was not instructions in the booklet for this part.”

“Okay you need to not be home-schooled,” Prompto said. He turned over to face him, keeping his ass propped off the bed, and took it out of his hand. “We practiced on cucumbers in class. You gotta like pinch the tip a bit, like this, and then roll it down…”

Noctis gave a moan, pushing into the sensation as Prompto rolled the condom over his dick.

“You can practice on me later if you like,” Prompto said with a wink. Then he shifted to get back on his hands and knees.

“Wait,” Noctis said, reaching out to hold his hip. “I kinda wanna be able to kiss you while we fuck? Is that cool?”

“Uh. Yeah.” He blushed at the thought. It was pretty damn romantic as far as teenage hookups went. “Let’s check the manual. I’ve seen some porn, but I don’t know if I’m that stretchy.”

They ended up kinda spooned together, one of Prompto’s legs lifted so it was hooked around the back of Noctis’s thigh. When he turned his neck around and Noctis lifted a bit, they could press their lips together.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

Noctis nodded and, pressing their lips together deeply, began to push his tip against Prompto’s slick entrance. It took a couple attempts, but finally his head pushed through Prompto’s clench.

He winced. “Hold on,” he mumbled. “Just… wait a sec.” Noctis might not be wider than three fingers across, but he was round and full. The stretch stung a little and he squeezed his eyes closed. At least the lube was slippery and he didn’t chafe uncomfortably.

After a few deep breaths, he nodded and pressed a lingering kiss on Noctis’s cheek. “Okay. Push in. But go really slow…”

The prince groaned as he pressed forward, breath puffing across Prompto’s cheek and neck. “So...tight…” He panted roughly. “M’not gonna last.”

“S’okay,” Prompto said. “Just do your best.”

Once he was fully in, he just stopped there and gave a few ragged breaths. Prompto pressed kisses against the line of his jaw and cheekbones until he turned to meet his lips.

“I’m ready,” he murmured against his lips.

“Okay.” Noctis slowly drew out, groaning in loss at pulling away from the warmth clench.

But as he pulled back, he brushed against Prompto’s prostate. Prompto moaned and clenched in reflex at the sparks of pleasure that shot through him. “Noct…” he moaned. “Right there!”

“Feels so good,” the prince moaned, then began to push back in. He completely missed his prostate this time, and again when he drew out.

Maybe not the best position. “Noct,” he panted. “Little bit more up.”

Noctis gave a few sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts before he finally lucked into the right angle.

“There!”

“There?” He confirmed, kissing his neck as he gave an attempt at the same angle. “Fuck, I’m so close, Prompto. I’m gonna come.”

They definitely had to work on his stamina. He squeezed around him enticingly. “Go on, Noctis. Come for me. Come in me.”

That seemed to do it. The prince cried out desperately with a few hard, wild thrusts and then slammed in deep as he came. Prompto gently petted at his hands until breathing settled down and he pulled out.

Okay that was a weird, uncomfortable feeling. Not a fan of that.

“M’sorry,” Noctis slurred tiredly. “I wanted you to come first.”

“It’s okay,” Prompto said. He turned around to face him, giving him a reassuring grin. “Here. Gimme your hand.” The prince handed it over easily, and Prompto wrapped it around his dripping dick. He moaned. “Yeah. You know how to do this, right?”

“The angle’s weird,” he muttered. “But yeah. I can do this.”

Prompto moaned, thrusting into his hand. “Yeah… So good.” He didn’t think having someone else’s hand to touch you could feel so good. He expected Noctis’s touch to be soft, but it was callused somehow. The extra sensation had his senses going wild. “Make me come,” he pleaded.

“I’m trying,” Noctis grunted.

His grip tightened a little and Prompto winced. “Ouch. Not that tight.”

“Sorry,” he said quickly. His fingers loosened a bit. “I just want to make this good for you,” he whined. “I got to come twice and you haven’t even once.”

“It’s not a competition, Noctis,” he laughed between gasps of pleasure. “It’s a team effort.”

A few more pumps and the pleasure building in his gut spilled over. His jizz hit hard, splattering over Noctis’s fist and stomach. It felt filthy and sexy — like he was marking the prince with his cum. He kinda wanted to rub it into his skin and the patch of hair around his dick. But he made himself clean it up with tissues instead — then he peeled off Noctis’s condom and carried it all to the wastepaper basket.

It hit him with awkward awareness that he was still wearing his bright yellow chocobo socks. The most unsexy thing he could even think of. Maybe he’d leave that part out if he ever told people about losing his virginity. (He’d have to be pretty vague on the details of who though.)

When he turned back around, the Prince was curled up on top of his blankets, eyes closed. His mouth was parted open, and the cutest little snuffly snores were escaping from his mouth.

He chuckled and came over to kiss his forehead and tug the blankets over him. He got a sleepy mumble in protest before the prince settled back in.

He headed into the bathroom, swapping out his contact lenses for the chunky black frames of his glasses and awkwardly went about cleaning lube from his ass.

Yawning, he walked around the house to make sure everything was locked up tight and then headed back to his room. Resisting the urge to curl up in bed with his lover (his lover!!!!), he headed over to the computer.

He closed out of everything and then paused. Wearing a goofy grin, he opened up his chat window with Carbuncle.

Quicksilver [12:43am]: Tonight went really really well, Bun. I’m so happy.

Still grinning, he shut down his computer and finally gave into the urge to join Noctis.

Chapter Text

The alarm went off at 5:30 exactly. Prompto’s brain made a sticky, slow journey to wakefulness — the kind that told him he’d been awake too late last night. But he had to get up. Morning run time. Come on and do it, Prompto.

He sat up and jabbed the button on his alarm clock. Something beside him made a sleepy noise of relief. He blinked several times, then picked up his glasses to slide on his face and bring the room into focus.

That was the crown prince Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV in his bed. Naked. And hogging the blankets. Vague memories of sex and laughter from the previous night tried to pierce through the sleepy fog — they succeeded enough he didn’t have a freak out.

Instead he just patted the mess of dark hair and climbed out of the bed. Oh ow ow ow what the fuck. Wincing, he limped over to his closet to tug on his running gear — the bike shorts that clung to his body to reduce the wind resistance of his clothes, and an old threadbare tee that he didn’t mind getting soaked with sweat. He shut the door to the room, sealing the prince protectively inside.

The door to his parents room cracked open and he almost freaked out, before the stubbled face of Gladio squinting out at him suspiciously. Right. No parents. Just Noctis’s entourage.

He gave the bodyguard a sleepy grin and a lazy salute against his forehead before heading down the stairs. He was still standing on the threshold of his gate, stretching out his quads by folding his foot up to his butt and pulling it tighter, when the door opened and Gladio came out.

He was shirtless, wearing a pair of Crownsguard track pants. “Mind if I join you?”

“Sure,” he said through a yawn. He dropped his foot back down, flexed into his running shoes, then started off down the footpath.

The cushioning of these shoes were wearing out. He’d have to dig into his camera fund to buy a new pair — the jarring against his ankles and knees was just not fun. Especially when his entire ass and hips was a tight knit of nope. At least they started to loosen after a while — though his ass still fucking hurt. Heh. Fucking-hurt. Accurate.

It took him a few blocks to notice more than peripherally that Gladio was keeping pace with him, not even breaking a sweat, the jerk. “You can lap me if you want,” he panted, pushing his sweaty glasses back up his nose. “I don’t go much further than the junction into Ward C.”

“I’m good,” Gladio grunted. There was something in his eyes — somewhere between judgemental and calculating.

“Kay. I’m not paying you for a PT Session though!” He teased with laugh. “Morning!” He shouted to his runner buddy as he passed, dressed in professional cross-country gear.

“Morning kid!” he replied with a little fist pump.

Gladio was silent, and when Prompto side-eyed him, he had his cell out and seemed to be sending a text to someone.

Prompto pushed himself past when he was soaked with sweat, every muscle aching—through the pain barrier until it was all adrenaline and endorphins again. When the pain barrier started to come back, that was time to turn around and head back towards home.

He threw in an extra lap or two of his block, cause yeah he had eaten that bacon on Tuesday, and then led Gladio back home. The Shield was eyeing him with an unreadable look.

Once they reached the property, Gladio let himself back into the house. Prompto stretched to warm down, and headed back inside the house.

He came to a confused stop as he pulled his shoes off. That was the definite sounds of cooking in his kitchen, accompanied by some unfairly delicious smells.

Once he was free of his shoes — and left them outside to air because pheeuuw — he padded in his socks to the kitchen.

Ignis had taken over his kitchen — and was giving it more use it had probably ever gotten in his entire life. There was loaded omelets in the oven, cheese browning on the top; sliced bagels and a variety of toppings on the countertop of the breakfast bar; and there was the man himself at the hot plate, frying up bacon.

He made a noise of confusion. He hadn’t bought any of this stuff. It was not in his kitchen when he left for his run. The only thing he had in his fridge was salad vegetables and the low-fat unsweetened Greek yoghurt he had with his muesli.

“Good morning Prompto,” Ignis greeted, his voice friendly and welcoming. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Uh.” He answered eloquently. “Poached.” He rubbed a hand through the side of his sweaty, matted hair. “Uh. What’s with the spread? Did they cancel brunch today?”

Gladio leaned towards him over the breakfast bar, eyes narrowing. “Prompto, you telling me you work out like that every morning and the first thing you eat after that is a grapefruit quarter and a poached egg?”

He shrugged. “Not every morning. I threw a couple more laps around today.”

Gladio’s jaw clenched tightly, a muscle ticking at the force. He inhaled sharply, but was interrupted by Ignis: “sit down and eat, Prompto, before Gladiolus launches into a lecture about calorie intake, protein and healthy nutritional balance. He’s been unbearable since he has started his degree in Sports Science.”

Silently, not wanting to piss off McMuscles, he sat down on a stool and watched Gladio pile his plate with carbs and fats and that cardinal sin Bacon, only handing it over once Ignis had added an omelet onto the plate as well. He shoved it at Prompto with a glare. “Eat.”

“I can’t eat this much!” He squeaked.

“Eat!”

He fell silent and picked up his fork. He definitely left the bacon alone, meeting Gladio’s glare with a stubborn raise of his chin — but he did at least eat some of everything else. He whined and rubbed his bloated, bulging stomach. “Too full,” he complained.

“Gladio, would you go wake up up his Highness?” Ignis asked, in a sort of firm tone that proved it was not a request at all.

Prompto took that opportunity to thank Ignis for breakfast and then scurried up the stairs to shower. He turned to look at himself sideways in the mirror, hating how bulging and disgusting he looked. He had to make sure Noctis didn’t see him like this, it would kill any of the appeal he still had left after last night’s awkward sex.

Awkward as it was, that didn’t turn Prompto off the idea of more. They’d learn how to get better together — assuming Noctis didn’t drop him for someone hotter and more experienced immediately. That was the point of it, right? Take the shine off sex once you learned what it was actually like, and — and they hadn’t even attempted to stay up late talking. Noctis had just gone straight to sleep after.

Maybe he really didn’t want him.

He stepped into the shower — hot water first to sweat out the pores, and then freezing cold to finish by closing the pores and energising both him and his skin. Ice cold shower was better in the morning than coffee, and was zero calories!

Wrapping the towel higher around his waist so he didn’t have to look at his bulging belly, he opened the door. “Shower’s free!” he yelled downstairs, since… there was like people in his house. For once. People other than him.

He headed into his bedroom, glad to see it empty. Oh and hey — Iggy’s confiscation box was sitting open on his desk. He pulled on his boxers from the drawer and stood in front of the mirror to take his daily progress picture.

When he turned to his closet, beginning to worry about what he was supposed to wear today, he found an outfit already hung up for him. It had even been ironed into crisp perfection. (Prompto totally did iron his school uniform, okay. But like, only enough the front didn’t look wrinkly through the blazer—cause that was the only part people saw. And why bother with more?)

“Thanks Iggy,” he mumbled. He had to huff and suck and squeeze his way into the jeans with his fat belly, but they eventually zipped up.

In fresh, and less embarrassing, socks, he headed back downstairs.

Noctis was sitting at his breakfast island which — hello amazingly domestic fantasy he’d never even known he wanted before. But he was complaining to Ignis: “I just fell asleep! We were supposed to be staying up late talking.”

The Chamberlain smirked a little to himself— as if he had some private joke—, putting a well-balanced plate in front of the prince. “Oh somehow I think that won’t be an issue at all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Noctis asked suspiciously.

“Welcome back, Prompto,” Ignis greeted, instead of answering. “Ah. I see you found the outfit I selected for you. I hadn’t a chance to outline the day’s dress codes for you, and calculated it would be more time efficient to simply lay something out instead.”

“Yeah. Thanks, it helped.” He slid his eyes to Noctis and melted just a little. He still looked ninety percent asleep, but he was wearing this soft little smile as he leaned on one hand and watched Prompto come closer into the room. “Morning,” he said, feeling blood rush up to his cheeks.

“Hey,” Noctis said, blushing as well. “You got up early.” He sounded almost accusatory.

He laughed. “Had to go on my morning run. This hot bod don’t maintain itself!”

There was a disapproving downturn to Ignis’s lip, but he didn’t say anything. He just began to gather up the remains of breakfast and pack everything away.

“Dude, you don’t gotta clean,” Prompto said, coming around to take dirty dishes out of his hand. “You cooked!”

“I assure you, I do not mind in the least,” Ignis said, raising his eyebrows almost in surprise as he let go of the plates.

Prompto shrugged and gave him an easy grin. “Sit down and enjoy your coffee or something, man. You’ve done enough this morning as it is.”

Ignis gave an almost silent laugh, but obediently went over to sit next to the prince and sip from a can of Ebony.

Eventually Gladio came back downstairs, dressed in his uniform, rubbing a towel through his hair. He’d shaved, but left the little patch of hair about his chin he seemed to be planning to grow into a goatee. (Prompto thought the rugged, stubbled look suited him better but whatever, not his place.)

“Ready to go, Princess?” He asked, looking at Noctis. “Don’t think you’re getting out of training just because you got laid.”

The prince groaned. “But Gladdy, I wanted to spend the morning with Prompto.”

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbled. “Sorry Noct. Duty comes first, better get used to that right from the beginning.”

The prince groaned but stood up. “Fiiine.” He came over and gave Prompto a kiss that quickly became heated. They only parted when Ignis gave a rather pointed cough. “See you at brunch?”

“Yeah.” He smiled against the prince’s mouth. This really was nice.

Once his house was his own again, he headed upstairs to stick his cell on charge. When it powered back on, there was a message waiting from Carbuncle.

Carbuncle [8:26am]: Glad to hear it. (And Jealous. I thought I was the only man in your life, Sil????) ((and sleepy, 8am is a big nope from me))
[8:28am]: My thing went really well, too. I think I know where I’m going with that part my future — and I’m really excited about it???

He grinned to himself as he read the messages over. Man, he was so glad to have a friend like Carbuncle. They’d been together in their misery at the beginning of their week, but now they were both in a really good space. They fed into each other so much.

Quicksilver [8:50am]: Happy for you too buddy.

He booted up his computer to catch up on his homework while he waited for the time to tick over until he had to head to the Citadel for the day.

When it had powered on and opened all his starter windows, there was a message waiting from Carbuncle in their chat.

Carbuncle [8:53am]: There’s stuff I really wanna talk to you about, with what’s going on this week. But I kinda wanna actually tell you, not text you know? It’ll have to wait, I’m busy with this interschool stuff until Sunday night. Pencil me in for King’s Knight and voice chat Monday night, okay Sil?

Quicksilver [9:00am]: You got it, Bun. Looking forward to hearing your Microsoft Sam voice again. Missed you this week.

Carbuncle [9:01am]: Me too, Sil. Ugh. Gtg. Big brother is on my ass about being lazy. Ttyl.

Chapter Text

He was eating at the table alone (just the grapefruit today, he didn’t need more protein) when Domitian Drautos pressed on hand down on the table in front of him. He raised his eyes to the nobleman, calm. “Yes?”

“It’s pistol skills today, Argentum,” he said arrogantly. “You might’ve managed to embarrass me at darts, but I’m the Citadel’s champion marksman. Be prepared to be crushed under my vengeance today.”

Prompto put a spoonful of grapefruit flesh between his lips and scraped it off, drawing the spoon downwards from his face. Calm and unintimidated. Noctis didn’t give a shit about Drautos in the slightest — there was no competition between them about that. Even when Noctis didn’t choose Prompto, he wasn’t on the list. And to think that he could beat Prompto??? At shooting? It took the blond’s whole willpower not to laugh up in his face.

“Okay,” he said, calmly. “Good talk, Domitian.”

The man brushed his hand through his hair in an arrogant gesture, and then strode away. Prompto watched his path back to his table, rolling his eyes.

He nearly jumped out of his seat when the seat across from him scraped out, giving a startled yell. He clutched a hand to his chest and gave Gladio a glare as the Shield gracefully folded himself into the chair. “Give a guy some warning, would you!”

“What did Drautos want?” He grunted, sliding a plate across the pristine white table cloth to sit in front of Prompto’s own.

“Being an ass about kicking mine at pistol skills today,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “What’s this?”

“You better give him a run for his money, Prompto. He needs to be knocked down a peg or three. And that’s your brunch.”

He gestured to his half-finished grapefruit quarter on his plate. “I’m covered. Thanks.”

“Peppery daggerquill rice,” Gladio answered, pushing the plate forward more insistently. “Capsaicin in the peppers speeds up your metabolism so you digest and process nutrients faster; daggerquill breast is a low-fat protein, with calcium and phosphorus; wild rice is a good complex carb packed full of nutrients and fibre, rich with antioxidants, and it’s low GI so the sugars are digested slower and more regulated through-out the day.”

“Okay…?” He said uncertainly. “But I don’t eat carbs during the day.”

“Or at dinner either, if you can help it,” Gladio grunted. “I know. Don’t care, you’re gonna eat what I tell you and tomorrow I’m gonna take you to the gym during Reading Hour to give you a proper workout.”

“Uh…”

“No arguments. Eat your lunch.”

Prompto kinda just… shut his mouth and started eating. It was good and it exploded with flavour in his mouth. Okay, it was an amazing dish — and the barrage of information Gladio had thrown in his face made it sound like a good option??? But still. He could only manage about a quarter of it before he felt like he was exploding out of his jeans.

“S’good,” he mumbled. “But portion size is too much. I’m full.”

Gladio grunted and pulled the bowl away. “Fine. I’ll fell Iggy you liked it, it was a new recipeh.”

Prompto snorted at the bizarre twist of an accent over the phrase. It reminded him of Carbuncle for a moment, and he felt a stab of longing for their conversations. So much had changed in the past few days, and they’d pencilled it Monday but there would be so much more to tell Bun by then. Noctis’s birthday was on Sunday, and the Delicium was announced on the ball that night. So he had four days left, including today, to share as much with Noctis as he could and still give him time to decide on his actual Delicium from the rest of the guests.

He seemed to spend more time at brunch with Xerces and Vaullerey, which Prompto approved of. They were the best out of the lot — they were still the snobby noble types, but they weren’t as bad as Gravy Amicitia and Drautos and Favonius Fortis. Prompto would flip his shit if Noctis chose one of those three.

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder and turned with a smile to look up at Noctis. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey,” the prince greeted with a soft look. “We’re about to convene in the lobby to go for the comp. You ready?”

“Yeah. Looking forward to it.” He stood up, slipping into the space beside Noctis, without actually letting their bodies touch.

He was happy to walk alongside the prince, catching up with his morning as they headed to the lobby. Ignis was already calmly waiting.

Once they were all assembled — Noctis still hadn’t moved from his side — Drautos spoke in his usual arrogant tone of voice: “Are we skeet shooting or hitting targets today, Scientia?” He asked. Like what did those things even mean.

“Neither,” Ignis answered, almost sounding smug about shutting him down. “His majesty and his highness have instead personally designed a course at the local infrared laser-tag skirmish course instead.”

Hah! Suck on that, Drautos. Prompto grinned and nudged an elbow into Noctis’s side. He got a smirk and playful pinch on his butt in response, which had his cheeks burning with a blush until he could get it back under control.

“It’s hardly a traditional demonstration of the noble skills,” Fortis complained.

“His majesty and I prefer the more economic use of resources,” Noctis answered, his voice confident and cold and allowing zero arguments. Prompto wanted to kiss his face just hearing it. (He restrained himself because they were in public, but he didn’t stop grinning.)

The fleet of suitors headed out to their cars for the journey to their destination. Prompto had moved to follow, but Noctis caught his hand to stop him from heading out.

“Sup dude?” Prompto asked, tilting his head at him.

“I had Specs lay out some more comfortable gear for you,” he explained. “I figured the white shirt might be a little obvious in the skirmish course.”

Prompto grinned. “Aww. You want me to win.”

“Wouldn’t mind,” Noctis said and — glancing around the lobby quickly to make sure it was clear — dragged him into a quick, dirty kiss.

It ended way too quickly and Prompto muttered “tease” against his lips before he followed a stoic-faced Ignis to an antechamber to change. It was a comfy pair of the prince’s normal casual pants — black cargos with lots of pockets — and a dark-green-almost-black sleeveless shirt, paired with the kickass combat boots in his size that the guards wore that Ignis must’ve grabbed from the storage. (And it made his biceps pop like whoa. Maybe he could trim the sleeves off some of the shirts that didn’t quite fit any more?)

“I feel like one of your Crownsguards,” Prompro said as he came out, trying to retie the fabric belt comfortably. Noctis was skinny and he was still bulging with his forced breakfast and brunch.

“There certainly is an air of military fatigues about the outfit,” Ignis agreed. “But I was informed that style fit the theme of the laser skirmish activity, so I selected accordingly.”

“Yeah. It’s good. Thanks Iggy.” He grinned at the Chamberlain and finally headed out to the black car waiting for him at the bottom of the long stairs.

He was late, but he didn’t really care. Most of the guys were already inside the course, staking territory and making defences. Noctis waved at him from a sort of huge balcony overlooking the whole course, where he sat with the King to observe the game. Prompto waved back with a cocky grin and headed into the ante-chamber to get geared up.

The vest was surprisingly lightweight than the king he was used to at the local arcade, the gun sleek in his hand. There was even a second gun he happily paired up and holstered at his side.

“Game ends if one player takes out all opponents without getting shot once, or one player’s kill hits over one hundred.” The attendant explained, sounding bored. “You can use the obstacle course however you like, but the company is not liable for any injuries sustained climbing on or jumping between objects. Entering the games is agreement with the terms and conditions, would you like to continue?”

Prompto grinned. “Oh yeah. I’m ready.”

Adrenaline spiked as soon as he heard the doors close behind him. A pleasant, robotic female voice announced: “the final combatant has entered the area.” Eyes closed, even though the room was dark, he listened out carefully to locate the sounds of the same announcement around the room.

He dodged between covers, trying to keep his steps as quiet as possible — slipping close to the combatants’ hideouts (they all seemed to have made alliances which, stupid!) and taking them out without them even knowing he was there. He heard loud curses in his wake as he slipped through the dark nooks and paths to the next targets. “Who was that? Where did it come from?”

Domitian Drautos had taken a roost in the centre of the course — high enough to see most of the arena and aim through trellis-like slats, without properly exposing himself to get hit. Jerk had even put Gravis and Favonius at the only entry points like he needed henchmen or some shit.

Everything went slow and calm, like bullet-time in video games. He rounded a corner and came across six guys gathered together for protection, and his eyes were wild with excitement as he took them all out — pew! pew! pew! pew! pew! — before they even noticed he was there.

“Damn Argentum,” Xerces said, giving him a grin. “You’re badass.”

He just gave him a cocky grin and slipped back into the shadows again. He whittled them all down one-by-one, until it was only Domitian and his henchies in their tower. He stood at bottom of the ladder, angled his gun to take out Gravis and Favonius in quick succession.

“Shit, where are they all?” Gravis asked, sounding nervous. “Drautos, d’you reckon they’ve all teamed up to take you down?”

“Let them,” Domitian said arrogantly. “None of them are any match for me!”

“Dude, it’s just a game,” Favonius muttered. “Come on Amicitia. Let’s go to time-out and grab a drink. These vests are hot.”

In an unexpected victory, the two henchies climbed down the other exit and left Domitian up there.

“Yeah, I can see you cowards!” he yelled, firing shots at them, and wildly around the course.

The noise was the distraction Prompto needed. He scaled the ladder and stood inside the tower before Drautos had stopped his little tantrum. Prompto grinned, stepped right up behind him, pressed the muzzle of the laser gun right into his vest so he could feel it — and then when Domitian tensed up, he pulled the trigger.

“Game over. Player victory.” Their vests both announced pleasantly.

Domitian turned to snarl at him. “Argentum!” he hissed hatefully. “You pathetic working-class scum. How dare you? This was my game!”

Grinning, Prompto reached forward and pulled the black bandana off Drautos’s forehead. (Sweaty, gross.) “And don’t you forget it.” He jumped down the ladder (um, ow — looked fucking badass but tidemotherfucking ow) and headed towards the exit. He tied the black bandana around his bicep like a trophy.

“Fucking kick-ass Argentum!” Faullerey said, slapping his shoulder as he came out after hanging up his gear. The rest of the guys even gave him a round of applause and a couple back-slaps. “I’ve never seen Drautos so spitting mad in my life. You’re like, my new favourite person.”

‘It was very well-played.” Everyone in the room turned and bowed deeply to his majesty, who walked calmly towards them. (No cane today? Huh.) “Congratulations, Mr Argentum. You performed admirably, a real demonstration of skill.” He reached out and actually fucking squeezed Prompto’s shoulder. Like a proud dad! Then he turned to leave again.

Ignis, prim and proper and just a little smug, addressed the group. “The festivities shall continue back at the Citadel. Your cars are waiting outside.” As they shuffled out with laughter and recounts of the game, Ignis murmured to Prompto: “his highness would like to see you in his room as soon as you return. But I might suggest showering first?”

Flushed with victory and anticipation, he practically ran back to his waiting car.

Chapter Text

Prompto took a deep breath as he stood outside the door of the prince’s royal apartments. Gladio had been half-laughing as he greeted Prompto, congratulated him on “the slaughter” as he led him up to a bathroom to shower.

He’d been given a similar outfit to the one he’d been wearing before — a different pair of black cargos and a black singlet shirt (okay, a different shade of black. He hadn’t known there was so many shades of black in his life before getting familiar with Noctis’s wardrobe).

He’d hesitated in the bathroom, but grabbed Domitian’s bandana from the pile of clothes. It was his trophy, right? He kinda wanted to give it to Noctis — offer it to him like a gift? It was a weird feeling.

He knocked on the door and opened it, stepping inside. There was no one inside the sitting room, but he could hear a shift of movement from one of the rooms beyond — the one with the door slightly ajar. He walked towards it quickly. “Prince Noctis? It’s Prompto.”

There was a hitch of breath and a sudden stillness. And then the prince’s voice sounded weird as he called: “yeah, come here.” It was sort of tight, and intense.

Prompto’s heart began to pump loudly in his chest. Oh no. What had he done wrong? Or maybe… maybe this was just the conversation where Noctis told him that he was the wrong choice for the Delicium and they needed to step back while he hung out with the other options.

He swallowed nervously and pushed open the door. “Iggy said you wanted to see… me…” He trailed off, nearly choking on his own tongue.

Noctis was lying on a huge decadent bed, four posts holding up black drapes with gold curly-leafy-vine designs all over it. It made a gorgeous frame for the absolutely insanely hot sight within.

Noctis was plunging his fingers in and out of himself, dripping with lube. He wasn’t even naked, not really. He was still wearing basically all of his clothes — but he’d yanked his pants down (no underwear??) until they were hooked around one ankle, half-hanging over the edge of the bed. It was like he was so desperate to touch himself he couldn’t even wait to get naked.

“Noct...?” He asked, his voice coming out strangled and intense.

“You gonna stand there and watch or are you gonna come here and fuck me?” The prince demanded, giving him a heated look.

“Oh fuck yeah.” He kicked off his pants (Noctis’s pants) and launched himself at the bed. He was already hard and throbbing, just from the sight, and his words. “Dude. Did you just come back here and start fucking yourself? Because of me?” He asked in disbelief.

“I did.” He pushed a third finger into himself, wincing a little, but moaning as he found his own prostate to tease. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” He panted, keening as he hitched up his hips in invitation. “When you’re so confident, and badass. The way you took out that team of six… fuck…” He writhed on the bed. “I just wanted you to bend me over that wall and fuck me in front of all of them.”

“Dude,” he breathed, and grabbed Noctis’s hand to yank his fingers out. “You can’t just say things like that!”

“If I can’t say them in front of you, who can I say them to?” Noctis asked, pushing a tube of lube and a single condom at him. “I want you to fuck me, Prompto. I want to come with you inside me.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said, groaning as he buried his head in Noctis’s thigh. “Can’t say I’m gonna last long enough.” He rolled the condom onto his pulsing length, having to stop and grab himself at the base to stop himself from coming.

“What’s with that?” Noctis asked, stroking one hand around his wrist. “The grabbing?”

“Helps… stop me from coming so soon,” he said, grunting. “I don’t wanna wait to get hard again so I can be inside you.”

Noctis bit his lip. “Wish I’d known about that last night,” he mumbled. “Would’ve been less embarrassing.”

“Well. We’ve still got a couple days,” he muttered, “I’ll teach you some tricks I know from all my experience jerking off.” He leaned up, shifting up to kiss him and grind up against him. “When I’m not about to fuck you.”

“I wish we could do this face-to-face,” the prince mumbled. “I want to look at you, want to kiss your stupid face.”

“My face isn’t stupid,” he laughed. “I did some moogling this morning, while you were working out,” he said quietly. “I got a couple moves.”

“Show me your moves, then, Crack Shot.”

Gripping the prince’s hips, he flipped them so the prince was above him, straddling his hips. He sat up, leaning forward on his hands so their faces were close together. “Yeah?”

He felt something hot and sticky splattering against his shirt. The prince blushed, reaching up to cover his face with one hand. “Yeah. I like that move.”

“Apparently.” He stroked a soothing hand down Noctis’s back. “Let’s take this opportunity to get undressed?” He suggested instead. “I’ll let you lick my abs…?”

“Not gonna lie,” Noctis mumbled. “Kinda wanna pass out for a nap.”

Prompto laughed. “Of course you do.” Noctis liked to sleep almost as much as Carbuncle did, it seemed. “Alright. You power nap. We’ll keep going after.”

“I’m sorry,” Noctis mumbled, slumping against him. “I wish I could make you feel as good as you make me.”

Prompto shuffled them back and lay him down so he was against the pillows. “Naww. It’s okay. You make me feel great, Noctis,” he said, kissing his soft pink cheeks. “You’re worth waiting for.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, but it was only a few moments until he was snuffling with cute little snores. Prompto pressed a kiss to his forehead and then stood up to tug the pant back up and make his way to the bathroom.

He stopped awkwardly when he saw Gladio sitting on an armchair outside, flipping through an old-fashioned leather-bound book. “...hi.”

“Afternoon,” Gladio said, flipping a page casually. “I’d take the condom off if you’re waiting. Ain’t pleasant, otherwise.”

Prompto flushed with embarrassment. “R-right. Thanks.” Ducking his face with embarrassment, he headed into the bathroom. When he came back out, calmed down, Gladio was still reading the book. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise to me,” Gladio answered, looking at him over the top of the cover. “Seems to me like Noct is the one who should apologise.”

“He doesn’t need to,” Prompto said with a blush. “It’s fine. He’ll get better with practice.”

Gladio snorted. “Sure he will.” He closed the book. “I’m in charge of training him physically. He’ll only put as much effort in as he has to.”

He shrugged and sat across from him. “He seems bothered by it. But, doesn’t really matter does it? He’s getting a whatchyamacallit so take care of his sex drive, not the other way around.”

“Delicium,” Gladio replied, amused. “You should probably remember the title if you’re gonna be one.”

He blinked. Then he snorted. “Right. You almost had me a minute there. Me, actually getting appointed. Nice one, dude.”

Gladio raised an eyebrow at him. “Wait… you don’t think Noct’s gonna pick you.” He said it, not as a question, but as if he was just figuring out and didn’t believe it.

“Uh… duh!” He rolled his eyes and settled comfortably back into the couch, knee bouncing slightly.

The Shield shook his head, smirking slightly. “And who do you think he’s gonna pick instead?”

“Dunno. I don’t get to see him interact with the others much,” he answered with a shrug. “I just hope it’s not Drautos. Or Fortis. Or your nephew.”

“He’s not my nephew. But yeah. I don’t think he’s gonna pick any of them.”

That was a relief, for sure. The thought about Noctis being with either of those guys made his stomach clench in a weird way.

Gladio opened his book back up. “You should go wake him up. If he stays asleep much longer he’s gonna shift from power nap to afternoon sleep.” He opened the book, signalling the end of the conversation, and brought it up to cover his face.

“Kay. Thanks.” He stood up and headed back into the bedroom. He headed into the bedroom and crawled onto the bed.

Noctis stirred at the shift of the mattress, eyes fluttering open. His lips turned up in a smile. “Hey, Prom,” he murmured.

He grinned at him, “hey.” He leaned in to kiss him, fingers pawing down his sides. The prince arched into his touch. “Ready to go again?” He asked.

“Ready to actually go you mean?” Noctis asked with a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah.” He reached down to rub across Prompto’s crotch. “It’s so hot when you wear my clothes,” he whispered.

“Think they’d look even better on your bedroom floor?” He asked with a grin.

Noctis snorted. “No. But I want you naked.” He tugged at Prompto’s shirt and didn’t stop until it was off. Prompto untied the cargos and kicked them off with his briefs. “You went soft,” he said with a slight pout.

“Dude, I’m the one who was blue-balled. Don’t complain.” He laughed. He reached to drag Noctis’s shirt off in return. “Pass me the lube.”

Noctis winced a little on his fingers, but it wasn’t long until he was moaning and pressing back on them. “Come on, Prompto. Fuck me,” he whined.

He laughed and reached over to open the bedside drawer. “Where’s the condoms?” He mumbled, shuffling around. (And dude, was that a cute little dildo?? He was storing that that in his memory for his next jerk-off session!)

“Uh. I only grabbed the one.” Noctis said. “You got rid of it?” He asked.

“You’re not supposed to leave them on,” Prompto replied. He groaned and flopped onto the bed in defeat. “Well, now what?” He mumbled sulkily.

Noctis thought for a moment, and then reached over to stroke him. “Let’s just go without it.”

Prompto blushed red. “You sure?” He moaned quietly.

“Yeah,” Noct said, pulling him close. “Come on, Prompto. Put it in me.”

He bit his lip and shifted close to kiss him again. He yelped and jolted up when he felt something hit him in the back. “The fuck?!”

“Use the fucking condoms!” Gladio’s voice growled, drifting away from the now-closed door back towards the armchair.

Prompto laughed awkwardly and shifted to get the box. He ripped off one of the foil packets and opened it — then paused. “You wanna practice putting it on?” He offered.

Noctis nodded shyly, and shifted to take it from him. He quietly listened to Prompto’s instructions, then reached out hesitantly to roll it over Prompto’s boner.

Prompto moaned, fighting against the need to buck up into his hand. It felt so good, even if it was just the slightest pressure of Noctis’s fingers. “Perfect,” he said, reaching up to run his fingers through the soft, dark hair. “Need me to finger you again?” He offered.

“...nah. I wanna do this.” With firm hands, he guided Prompto until he was half-sitting up against the headboard, and then swung his leg over so he was straddling the blond’s waist around his hipbones. His slick crack just teased against Prompto’s covered dick. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” He took himself in hand, holding himself steady while Noctis shifted back. He held him steady while the slick entrance gave a lazy resistance and then parted to let his tip in.

He made a garbled moan, reaching down to grab his balls and ease them away from his body. It was so fucking tight, all he wanted to do was thrust in hard and explode.

Noctis hissed a little, hips twitching to try and draw away. “Fuck. That stings.” He complained.

“Little bit,” Prompto agreed. He bit his lip and made the most painful offer in the world (if his balls had eyes they would be weeping) — “want to stop?”

Noctis shook his head. “No. I can do this,” he said determined. “I wanna feel you inside me, fucking deep and hitting my prostate. Just… gimme a sec.”

Prompto used the wait to grab the lube up from the bed. He slicked some more on the condom to give it some extra glide — and then used a finger to gently rub some around Noctis’s rim.

The prince moaned at the attention, giving needy little twitches of his hips that slowly took Prompto deep millimeter by hot, tight millimeter.

Eventually he was fully seated, and he took a moment to lean against Prompto’s chest and blow some breaths through his cheeks. “You made it look really easy,” he complained.

Prompto took his half-dick in hand and gave it a few pumps until it was back on board. “Maybe your dick’s just smaller than mine,” he teased with a cheeky grin.

Noctis snorted and smacked his arm. “Be nice to me, your dick’s in my ass.”

“I think you’re just tense,” Prompto mumbled. There was something more in the line of his shoulders than just ‘ow my butthole’. “Wanna talk about it?” He asked, lightly rubbing his thumbs in circles over his shoulder blades. (Dude. Knots.)

“Not right now,” he answered, shaking his head. “Thanks. Though. Ready?”

Prompto nodded and lifted his chin a little so he could press their lips together. He tried to keep him distracted with a filthy kiss, and strokes of his dick, while the prince lifted his hips and lowered them back down at a slow, careful pace. But who the fuck could concentrate on multitasking when their dick was plunging in and out of the hottest, tightest clench in the world?

He rolled his head back, making a low “ow” as it smacked against the headboard. “Noct,” he panted, “I’m not gonna last. I’m gonna come.”

“I haven’t even got the right angle to hit my prostate yet,” Noctis complained, hips working in a faster, more desperate rhythm.

Prompto moaned out a breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck — I can’t. Noct… Noct… I’m gonna come!”

“Not yet,” he whined, swivelling his hips about.

Nope, that absolutely did him in. He thrust up hard — Noctis gave a little cry of pleasure as they finally found his prostate — and almost whited out as the pleasure rushed out of him.

When his eyes cleared again, it was to see the prince’s pouty little lips in front of him. “It was just getting good.”

Prompto gave a quiet laugh and pushed his sweat-soaked hair up out of his face. “Sorry,” he said, the words kinda slurring out of his mouth. “S’my first time too.”

Summing up his quickly ebbing energy, he lifted Noctis off him and beside him onto the bed instead. He shifted down, cringing at the feeling as his soft, over-sensitive dick pulled out of Noct’s entrance, until his head was even with the prince’s lap.

He reached his fingers around to press back into his hole — (he was nearly gaping with use and Prompto moaned at the thought of why) — and crooked them up to find his prostate again.

Noctis moaned. “Yeah… right there, Prom.”

Smiling, he leaned in so he could flick his tongue across the wet, dark tip of the prince’s dick. A second later, there was the feeling of something slapping in his face. He paused a moment and then laughed, collapsing down on the mattress. “Dude. You nearly took my eye out!”

Noctis just made a satisfied groan and turned to make himself comfortable. “S’good. Thanks Prom.”

He pinched the prince’s bare ass. “I topped. That means you gotta clean us up.”

“How’s that fair?”

“You made me do it last night.”

“I’m the prince. You do it.”

He pinched again. “When you’ve got a Delicium you can boss them around. Right now, it’s your turn. And no. You cannot order Iggy or Gladio to do this part.”

Noctis groaned but sat up to shuffle around for a tissue box and his wastepaper basket. Prompto removed and tied off the condom, bunching it inside a tissue before he closed his eyes and let his post-sex bliss take him on an express train to naptime.

“I fucking love you, Prompto.” Huh. What a weird thing to dream of Noctis whispering to him.

Chapter Text

Prompto stepped out onto the balcony, making sure the curtain fell closed behind him. “There you are.” He walked over, leaning against the balcony railing beside the prince. “Missing you in there.”

“Sorry,” Noctis said quietly, continuing to look out at the city spread below them — lights like tiny Christmas lights spilled on the ground. “Specs send you to look for me?”

“Nah.” He shifted so he was sitting on the edge, one leg hanging towards the balcony so his balance shifted that way, the other folded up on the ledge with his foot pressed flat on the marble. “I just wasn’t having fun without you. And all the other guys were in there so I figured you weren’t off getting laid.”

“Do you have a fucking death wish?” Noctis hissed, hands darting out to hold fast to his torso. “Get down!”

“I’m fine,” he said, startled by the sudden aggression. He put his hands on the prince’s shoulders. “Ifrit’s belt, you’re wound up tighter than a coil, Noctis.” He turned to face him fully, leg slipping down so he had both hanging over.

“Maybe because you’re a slip away from falling to your death!”

“I’m fine,” he said softly, “it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Everything is not fine!” Noctis shouted. “Problems don’t go away just because you said it’s fine!”

Okay. That hurt. Noctis was yelling at him. But he got it—he was just someone nearby to lash out at. Quietly, he just rubbed his thumbs into the tight muscles of his shoulders.

The prince stepped back with a hiss of pain. “Don’t do that.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” He shifted, putting his leg back up on the railing. He stayed quiet, just waiting.

“I just… I have an old childhood injury. My leg. It’s fucked up my whole body. Gladio has to do regular remedial massage therapy for me,” he explained, his voice soft and apologetic. “Amateur massages could do me more damage.”

“Okay,” he answered gently. “I won’t try again. I’m sorry.”

Noctis sighed and stepped up to the railing. He wrapped his arms around Prompto’s waist, holding him tight, and buried his face in his neck. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

He nuzzled the top of his head slightly and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of his hair. “Wanna talk about what’s bugging you now?”

“I was gonna wait till Monday,” Noctis mumbled into his skin. “But… yeah. I really do.” His fingers traced circles in Prompto’s shirt. “My dad… he’s…” He shuddered against him. “He’s getting weaker. Keeping the wall up… It drains his energy, his life force.” He gave a shaky inhale. “I was going to move out of the Citadel, go to a normal high school. But he’s been getting sick. I just wanted to spend time with him before…”

Prompto shifted back to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and Noctis lifted his eyes to look up at him.

“One day I’m going to be king, Prompto. I’m not ready. I don’t want to be ready, because if it means I’m ready, that means my father can just die.” He squeezed his eyes shut, like if he couldn’t see the truth it wouldn’t exist any more.

Prompto gently pressed kisses to his cheek and his eyelids. He didn’t know what to say to that, how he could possibly sympathise. So he did what he did best, instead. Lightened the mood. “No wonder you don’t wanna spend the night listening to your fleet of suitors participating in a shitty talent show,” he mumbled. He stroked his fingertips through the soft, dark hair.

“An evening display of cultivated arts,” Noctis said, opening his eyes long enough to roll them.

“Talent Show,” he repeated with a grin. “You sure you don’t wanna pick Drautos? That half an hour piano song was really impressive.”

Noctis groaned at the reminder, but a soft smile crossed his face. He reached up to cup Prompto’s cheeks. “Nah. I’m pretty happy with my pick for Candidate.”

“Who you gonna go with?” He asked, leaning into the touch. “Xerces? Vaullerey?”

Noctis laughed, leaning in to give him a nipping, bite of a kiss. “Now Prompto. You know the selection for Candidates have to be kept completely secret.”

“Do they?” He asked, surprised. “It’s not like I actually know how this is supposed to work.”

“Traditionally,” Noctis said, “the prince writes down three names and the king picks one of the Candidates he thinks is most suitable to become part of the prince’s retinue.”

“...buuuut?” He prodded.

“My dad just wrote the same name three times,” he explained with a smirk.

Prompto laughed at that, throwing his head back in delight. Noctis’s hands seized him tightly and pulled him forward.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, Prompto!” he hissed. “Just get down, would you?”

He gripped his hands and began to lean backward. “I trust you.”

Noctis yanked him forward aggressively until he jerked forward off the railing and into his arms. “All six of the gods, Prompto.”

“Oh, all six of them,” he said, holding on tight to the prince as he regained his footing, “that’s serious.” He stood up properly when he could, stroking his hands down Noctis’s arms soothingly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well, you did.” He tugged his arm. “Come on. Let’s get you inside before you decide to do a handstand.”

“Yeah, but if we go back in, we have to keep watching the talent show,” he complained, dragging his feet.

“Who said we were going back there?” Noctis asked with a smirk. “I’ve got a perfectly good bed upstairs and a couple ideas on how we can use it.”

“...you’re talking about sleeping, aren’t you?”

Noctis just grinned and led him through the balcony doors.

Gladio wouldn’t even let run the next morning. Showed up to his house to stop him and everything. It kinda worked out though — since the day’s tournament comp was a 1000m foot race. He didn’t win, but he did place top five so it wasn’t a total washout.

“Thus completes the pentathalon of traditional skills of the royal court,” Ignis announced, steady and calm. “You have all performed admirably,” he continued. “And both his majesty and his highness thank you for attendance and participation in the Delicium Tournament, and taking the entirety of this week into consideration, his highness will be placing forth three names for Candidates and tomorrow His Majesty will interview all those selected in order to make the final decision on who shall be appointed Delicium.” He pushed up his glasses and looked at them all individually. “His highness and his majesty thank you for allowing them their privacy at this time, and would be pleased to see you on Sunday at Lake Lucii fishing docks for the prince’s birthday excursion.”

“What do you think that’s about?” Drautos whispered, from the line in front of Prompto. “There’s supposed to be parties tomorrow!”

“The prince isn’t like King Regis,” Fortis said back, his tone slightly sneering. “He probably can’t handle any more socialisation!”

Drautos snickered about that. Prompto clenched his fists at their laughter. Whatever Noctis’s choices, it better not be them he was picking. He might just have to… well. There was nothing he could do about it. But you can bet he’d be giving Carbuncle a piece of his mind!

He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed back towards the doors to the citadel. Ignis fell into step beside him. “You look despondent, Prompto,” he remarked in a low tone of voice, not meant to be overheard.

“Do I?” He asked, not looking up from his feet.

“Quite.”

“I guess… I’m gonna miss Prince Noctis,” he admitted quietly. “It’s been… pretty fantastic hanging out with him the past few days. I’m just… sad all this is gonna be over.”

“Things will change,” Ignis replied quietly. “But such is the inevitable pattern of life.”

Prompto gave his best attempt at a smile, but he could feel his eyes stinging. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

“Come now, Prompto. You speak as if we shall never see each other again.” A smile curled about his mouth. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow to have your suit for the ball fitted, and then you shall have all of Sunday to spend with Noctis. Or at least, however long you can bear to stand about watching him fish for.”

“It’s not gonna be the same,” he mumbled. Noctis was about to declare his Candidates — or if Prompto had got the hint well enough, his only Candidate. “Well… as long as it’s not Drautos, right?” He asked, curling his lip up in a smile.

“Indeed. Anything is preferable.” They came to a stop in the lobby. “Would you like to stay this evening, Prompto? Gladiolus and I would be pleased to have your company.”

“Nah,” he said quietly. “I’ve got a whole week of homework to catch up on. School’s hard enough without falling behind on the work.”

Ignis pushed up his glasses. “Well. If you ever need some additional tutoring…?”

“Yeah. Thanks Iggy.” He gave him a weak smile and headed towards the door.

“Prompto, your car hasn’t arrived yet.” Ignis pointed out, confused and concerned.

He shrugged and shoved his hands back in his pockets again. “Wanna walk.”

He couldn’t get his brain to concentrate on homework, and it took hours to force himself through it. Trying to mess with the photos he’d taken recently just made him confused and agitated. He plugged in his headphones and booted up Kings’s Knight — and huffed at the week’s worth of updates.

He jumped when the chat with Carbuncle began to chime — with the tone for a voice call instead of just text. He clicked open and found a smile dragging up his cheeks as he waited for it to connect with his voice mod. “Hey, Bun,” he greeted. “Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

There was a sniffle, and when Carbuncle’s voice came out even through the modifier it sounded choked up. “Hey… I was hoping I could talk to you. I didn’t wanna interrupt, but when I saw you on King’s Knight…”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, trying to make his voice soothing. “Bun, it’s okay. You crying?”

“Heh…” He sniffled again. “I… Oh gods. I can’t…”

“Bun…?” He asked gently. “Carbuncle?”

“It’s my dad,” he said, his voice breaking. He was so upset his accent was almost indistinguishable. “He had a stroke this morning, and I… I’m so scared.”

“Shit. Bun…” He felt his heart cracking in his chest. He leaned forward in his chair, as if he could move close. Hug him, offer him some comfort. “Is he gonna be…?”

“He’s fine,” Carbuncle answered. “He’s awake and talking. The medics had elixirs on hand. But… All I wanted was to have you around.”

“Wish I could be there for you,” he said quietly.

A soft sniffle. “Yeah. Me too.” He took a shaky breath. “Just tell me something — anything. I don’t wanna think about this right now.”

“Okay.” He searched his brain. “Oh! Dude — I never got to tell you ‘cause of all the shit that happened afterwards. I got to see some chocobos!”

Carbuncle laughed. Something about it niggled in the back of his head. “Dream come true?”

“You have no idea!” His stomach was twisted up with worry for his friend, but he made himself babble on — every detail he could remember about working in the stables and taking care of the birds.

Carbuncle was asleep, snuffling snores interrupted by low sniffs, before he even got around to talking about saddling up Midnight (Noctis’s beauty of a black chocobo). He gave a sad smile and sat back in his seat. “Night Bun,” he whispered. “I hope I helped.”

He sent him a message before he closed down the computer to go to sleep. It was way early, but he was worn out.

Quicksilver [7pm]: Sleep well, Bun. Best wishes for your dad’s quick recovery. Call me whenever you need me <3

Chapter Text

Prompto was wandering through the Citadel gardens, camera in hand, taking his — probably last — opportunity to capture the carefully cultivated beauty of the plants.

He’d tried on the suit and he was perfectly happy with it, but the tailor — (who reminded him a lot of an old Ignis) — had clicked his tongue in disapproval and started tugging and folding and pinning. Prompto gave Ignis a panicky look as he started fiddling around his crotch (with pins!!!!) but the advisor only smirked at him in amusement.

After he undressed and the tailor took the suit away, Ignis instructed Prompto to stay around the Citadel until the final fitting. But he apologised and excused himself — he seemed pretty stressed actually?? And it was weird Gladio hadn’t come by to see him this morning.

Prompto hummed, getting to his feet and stretching out his back from being hunched over the garden bed.

“Mr Argentum,” a voice greeted.

He turned around, and almost panicked when he saw the actual king walking calmly along the path nearby. Well… limping. He was leaning heavily on his cane, a golden brace now fastened around his knee outside the fabric of his suit pants.

He hurried over so he wouldn’t have to yell, taking a deep bow. “Majesty.”

The king gestured for him to stand with a tired smile. There was a lot of tiredness about his features actually. And was that a new patch of grey hair around his temples? “Walk with me.”

It was a command, obviously, but he made it sound like an invitation. The guy who was walking with him — he figured was probably the king’s Shield? Given the overly fancy uniform, and the vague resemblance to Gladio around the face and posture — fell a few steps behind so Prompto could take his place.

They were silent for a little while, and then His Majesty spoke. “How have you enjoyed the Tournament, Mr Argentum?”

“Um. You can call me Prompto,” he offered quickly — was it rude to correct the king? Shit! “It’s been… interesting,” he answered. “The whole thing — this whole lifestyle even — it’s not really my style. Or what I’m used to. But it’s been a good experience.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his suddenly embarrassingly ratty jeans. “I got to meet Noctis, Uh Prince Noctis, and I’m forever grateful for that. He’s…” He blushed a little. “He’s someone special. I’ve gotten really fond of him.”

The King was studying him intently as he spoke about Noctis. “You and Noct have developed a connection this week.”

He nodded. “Noct… he’s never made me feel like I was a commoner, or whatever. His suitors… they never let me forget where I belong. Even Iggy and Gladio — Uh, That is Ignis and Gladiolus, they were sometimes a little patronising. Always well meant!” he added quickly, knowing Gladio’s dad was still close enough to hear what he was saying. “But Noct…” A smile crosses his lips, as he thought about everything Noctis had come to mean to him. Remembering all their moments over the past five days. “Noct made me feel like we were both regular guys, hanging out and getting to know each other.”

The king hummed in acknowledgement and they walked in silence for a long moment. Prompto was realising he’d babbled on to the literal king and about to excuse himself so he could die of embarrassment. But the king spoke again before he could figure out how to excuse himself politely. “What do you think Noct needs in a Delicium?”

Right. The king was probably taking a break from the interviews with the Candidates (singular Candidate???) and trying to make a decision. Maybe he wanted a pleb’s perspective. He rubbed a hand through his hair awkwardly. “I don’t know. I’m not entirely sure exactly what a Delicium does? He’s gotta be like… attracted to them obviously!” His cheeks burned hotly at that. “But. There’s other stuff right? Gotta like… help him destress in other ways?” He hummed and watched his feet for a minute.

He’d never actually thought about what Noctis needed in a Delicium. He’d been too busy tangled up in sex with Noctis and their growing friendship. He knew he’d been invited to this tournament to fill a number, he’d never fit in with the rest, and he’d probably never been a serious option for Noct. It hadn’t been his business what he needed, until the King had asked.

“Well. If you want my — totally undereducated and unqualified — opinion?” He gave the king a slight grin at that. “I think he needs someone he can be himself with. Someone he doesn’t have to be Prince Noctis around, someone he’s comfortable being just Noct with. He’s got his Shield and Chamberlain to remind him of his duty and who he’s supposed to be — I’d think he needs someone who can make him forget?” He scuffed his foot across the marbled footpath a bit. “And someone he wants to reach out to when he’s upset or stressed out or scared.”

The king hummed and nodded. “Quite wise, Prompto. You understand his needs well. I’m inclined to agree with you. My own Delicium was something quite similar to me. With Cid I was always ‘Reggie’, not Prince Regis. Not many people perceive a royal’s need to be looked upon as human sometimes.” He studied Prompto intensely for a moment.

HOE DON'T DO IT! his brain screamed. But that hoe did do it.

He elbowed the king lightly and gave him an easy grin. “Glad I could help out then, Reggie.”

He waited for the fall out as their walk came to a stop. For guards to swarm him and take him away to the dungeons (did they have dungeons?? He’d find out soon probably.). But then the older Amicitia snorted in amusement — and the king threw his head back to laugh. A full, hearty laugh that transformed his face into something young and carefree.

Okay, here would come the guards. He lifted the camera to his eye and snapped a photo of the king beside him, looking for that moment relaxed and human.

Amicitia tensed behind them and stepped forward to confiscate the camera, probably, but the king held up a hand to halt him, letting his later fade naturally. He offered his free hand out for the camera: “may I see?”

Prompto turned to show him as he turned the viewer on and selected the last picture, then faced him again as he handed it over. (Please just delete it, don’t smash the whole camera!)

An almost-sad smile crossed over the king’s face as he studied the photo. “I don’t think I’ve liked a photo of myself so much in a decade,” he commented — and then handed the camera back without pressing any buttons. “You’ve quite an eye, Prompto. And not just for photography.”

“Um. Thanks. Your majesty.”

An amused smile curled over the king’s expression. “Now, what happened to Reggie?” He asked. (Amicitia snorted again.) Then he turned to continue walking. “May I have a copy? You may send it to Ignis Scientia as you did with my son’s picture, he will see it goes through the appropriate avenues.”

“Yeah. If you like.” He tucked his hands back into his pockets. “And uh… maybe you could send it to that Cid guy? I’m sure he wants a reminder Reggie is still in there as much as you needed it.”

“Master Sophiar and I haven’t spoken in many long years,” his majesty said, and sounded really fucking sad about it too. Prompto’s heart hurt for him.

“You should anyway. He was your Delicium for, like, twenty years right? Before Noctis was born? He probably misses you too.”

“Twenty!” the King repeated, with a playful sort of outrage Prompto didn’t even know a king was capable of. “How old do you think I am, brat?”

He forced himself to laugh, even as his brain screamed at him to run. Oh boy. He’d annoyed the literal king. Was that treason? It probably wasn’t treason. ...right? Right?!

But the king’s face softened and he looked thoughtful as they walked. “Maybe I will. Thank you, Prompto.”

“Yeah, no problem.” They reached the doors back inside and he came to a stop. “Well. I should probably let you go back to your… super important kingly stuff. Hope I helped you clear your head?”

“Yes, you were very helpful. Enjoy the gardens, Prompto.” Amicitia opened the door for him, but he paused mid-step, and turned back to Prompto. “One last question, if you would indulge me?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Who would you pick, from among Noct’s other suitors, to become his Delicium?” There was something very serious in his gaze as he asked.

He hummed. “I don’t know very much about them. Xerces, or Vaullerey maybe? He might learn to be himself with one of them. They seem like the most down to earth guys out of the lot. But I don’t know who he put down for Candidates, so…?” He gave a weak smile and shrugged. “Low key hope it’s not Drautos though.”

Amicitia snorted again, and a brief smile crossed the king’s face. “Thank you, Prompto. Well… I have official paperwork to confirm the formal choice of Delicium to sign. And other ‘super important kingly stuff’ to do. Farewell.”

He bowed to him, waiting until the doors were closed before he stood up properly. Well. That could’ve been worse; he just couldn’t think of how right then.

He headed back towards the gardens with his camera. Had the king looked extra tired? Almost sick? Maybe this whole thing was extra stress he didn’t need.

Nah. He was probably just projecting his worries about Carbuncle. There’d be like, news and an announcement if the king was sick probably.

Chewing on his lip, refusing to think about the fact Noctis’s chance at future happiness was being signed away right now. Noct knew what he needed from a Delicium. Whatever choice (choices??) he had made for Candidate, they’d be someone who made him happy.

Right?

Right?!

Chapter Text

Prompto woke up on Sunday morning to the sound of his alarm, but he just reached up and turned it off. This was it then. This was the last day he would ever have with Noctis.

He curled into his side, unplugging his cell to tug close. He opened up a message, but paused when he realised that he didn’t have Noctis cell number. Wait, did Noctis even have a cell?

Morning Iggy. Can you tell Noct happy birthday from me? Thanks. I’ll be at the lake later.

When he got the confirmation from Iggy he’d pass on the message, he got up and went through his morning routine. After he was showered and dressed, he sighed at his empty fridge. Heading up to his parent’s bedroom (it still had that lived in feeling from Gladio and Iggy spending the night), he went to the closet and shoved aside their hangers covered in dry cleaning bags to keep them dust-free. Shoving aside the fake panel in the wall, he revealed the safe.

He punched in the lock code (the date of their wedding — well, their first wedding. The one in the airship when they found out their co-worker was ordained and they just went for it) and pulled it open. He shoved aside the boxes — a pistol, ammo, stacks of Gil, — his refugee and citizenship documents, until he got to a well-handled envelope.

He slid out a money order, issued in his name — 100 Crowns. There was only one more money order in the envelope. (How long had it been since his parents had come home? He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen them.) Time to rebudget — maybe he could stretch the hundred to last for a whole month instead of just the four weeks.

He hadn’t bought food over the last week — getting two full meals squared away at the Citadel. Sure, his stomach was used to it now and he’d be hungry until he got used to it. But hey it’d store up for a little while right?

He headed out to the bank — getting the money order cashed with only a 2% fee. 98 Crowns left. Stealing a couple envelopes (and refusing to feel guilty about it) he split them up. Five envelopes today — four with 20C for each week and the extra 8 to ride him out into the next month in the last.

Then it was on to the cheapest grocery store.

Two grapefruits, at 2C each, and a dozen eggs, 8C — that was a week and a bit for breakfast with still 10C left for dinner. He only had to eat dinner on the weekends — thank fuck for school lunches paid for in his yearly school fees. 2C for a head of lettuce, half-crown and a quarter for a cucumber (round that up to 1C because who the fuck could deal with quarters when they were doing math?), 3 tomatoes at half-and-a-quarter each was… uh. Let’s just call that 3C. 5C for a big tub of yoghurt (he still had half a box of oats left for his muesli). Did… did he still have enough for milk?

He counted up the cost with a little pencil on the back of the envelope. Crap. No he didn’t. Well… that was okay. He could do without it for a week. There’d be some eggs and a bit of grapefruit left over for breakfasts next week so he’d stretch then.

He went through the register, chatting happily with the elderly woman who was scanning him through. And hey, he got a whole crown in change! Straight up score! A whole crown into his camera fund!

He was carrying his bags down the street when he passed a thrift shop. He drifted to a stop — they were having a sale, 20% off photo frames.

It’s Noctis’s birthday, his brain supplied helpfully.

There would be a huge pile of fancy presents for him at the ball, probably — he’d seen photos of his sixteenth. He wouldn’t bring something to the ball, wouldn’t embarrass the prince and himself by trying to add something dumb and cheap to the pile.

But he could bring something to the lake. Noctis could open it in private and he never had to be embarrassed about his new friend being a broke pleb.

With a sigh, he headed inside. He managed to find a cheap, plain frame for half-and-a-quarter and he pocketed the quarter. He’d print a couple photos at home. Maybe the selfie of him and Noctis at the chocobo park, or the picture from yesterday of His Majesty. He could change it out for whatever he wanted later, but you should never just buy someone a frame for a present and leave the generic card in.

On his way home, he drifted to a stop again. There was a new capsule toy vending machine outside the arcade — one of six kinds of unique chocobo charms for only a quarter-crown a turn.

“Alright universe. You win. No camera fund this week.” He set down his shopping bags and dug the quarter out of his pocket. He added the capsule to the bag from the camera store and headed on the long walk back home.

Once the groceries were away and he set his printer up with the highest quality print and paper, he went to knock on his neighbours’s doors. Mrs C from two doors down had some wrapping paper left over from her son’s birthday party. It was childish and cutesy as hell, but it was the best he could find.

He held it in his lap as he sat in the car, watching the city go past as they went to Lake Lucii. Maybe he could yeet himself out the window — or maybe just the shittily wrapped present. What was he thinking? Noctis wouldn’t want a dumb present from him, let alone one that looked like a toddler wrapped it.

But as soon as his car pulled up, it was too late. Ignis was waiting patiently, and opened the door as soon as the car came to a stop. “Prompto. Welcome. His highness asked me to collect you.” His eyes drifted down and widened slightly as soon as he saw the present. “You brought him a gift?”

“Um… is that not allowed?” He asked uncertainly. “I wanted to get him something, and I didn’t want to bring it to the ball tonight.” He tried to straighten the crumpled, terribly folded wrapping paper and muttered: “for obvious reasons.”

“Well, his highness requested that in lieu of presents, the guests make donations to Insomnia Public Hospital,” Ignis said carefully.

“...oh.” Dumb. Dumb fucking idiot fucking dumb idiot Prompto. Noctis had everything he wanted in the world. Of course he wouldn’t want presents. “Hah. It’s fine.” He stuffed the present into the outer pocket of his gym bag in with his camera and spare batteries. “Lead the way.”

“Prompto, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind—”

“Dude, it’s all chill. Let’s go.” He started walking towards the lake.

Ignis led the way to a boat docked on the edge of the lake. It looked too small to fit all twenty people on it, so Prompto hoped it wouldn’t be everyone. Once he was on the boat, Ignis got to work untying it from the dock.

“Morning Prompto!” The actual king greeted, from the driver’s seat of the boat.

“...hi Reggie,” he replied awkwardly.

There was a slap on his back that he was certain came from Gladio, but when he turned to look it was the king’s shield passing by him with a grin. Both the grownups were wearing terrifyingly casual clothes — shorts and T-shirt’s and dear six, his majesty wore socks with sandals.

“But wait… if you’re here… then who’s running the country?” He flailed.

The king only laughed and don’t answer the question. That was not reassuring!

“Prompto!” Noctis called from towards the front of the boat. “Out here!”

Prompto shouldered his bag and headed out to the sound of Noctis’s voice. The prince looked peaceful — Prompto fumbled out his camera to snap a shot before he came over to his side. “Morning, birthday boy,” he greeted, elbowing him in the side.

“Morning,” he returned, glancing around before leaning in to give him a quick, deep kiss. “Brought an overnight bag?” He teased playfully.

He snorted and elbowed him. “Tease.” They both knew Noctis would have to spend the night after the ball with his decided Delicium. “Iggy said I could get changed at the Citadel for the ball, but I didn’t wanna get back in the car stinking of fish.”

“Very considerate. Now, chuck your bag under the seat, I’ll show you how to set up your rod.”

“You can handle my rod any time,” he joked, putting his camera away and shoving the bag under one of the seats. Different boats went around across the lake, and there were marquees and shit set up on the shoreline — but none of the other guests really bothered them longer than to call hello and wish prince Noctis happy birthday.

Fishing wasn’t bad, exactly. But nobody rivalled the royals for their love of it. They probably would’ve been there all day and night if they didn’t have other things to attend to.

And everything would’ve gone fine and nothing awkward would’ve happened at all. But he caught a fish. A tiny little thing he had to throw back because it was the wrong size, but he still laughingly suggested they commemorate his first catch.

Ignis took a photo and then had to answer a telephone call — meaning that Noctis was the one who went to put his camera away while Prompto unhooked the fish and tossed it back in the water.

“...is this for me?”

He tended up as he realised what Noctis’s question had to be referring to.

He turned back guiltily, trying not to look at the shittily wrapped gift in the prince’s hands. “Uh… no?” To which he got a pointed state. “Okay… Yes. It’s a birthday present. But! Iggy didn’t tell me until this morning that you don’t want presents. So you don’t have to—”

He cut himself off with a whimper as the prince tore open the wrapping.

“O-or you could have it. Whatever. Can’t return it anyway.” He ducked his head down. Maybe he could throw himself into the ocean — ocean man, take me by the hand, lead me to the promised land!!

(Wait, no. This was a lake. Butts. He didn’t think there were any memes about lakes.)

Noctis smiled. “It’s our picture,” he said fondly. His finger brushed the edge of the frame.

“There’s more in the envelope. I didn’t know exactly what to put in.” He rubbed his hand through his hair. “And, Uh. There’s a toy in the capsule.”

Noctis sat down, resting the frame on his lap so he could unscrew the capsule and tip out the charm into his palm. He looked at it with fond eyes for a moment and then picked up up between two fingers. “A silver chocobo.”

“Heh. Cute.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s a charm. You can hang it from your cell or your wallet or your keys or… wherever.”

Noctis took out his cell and attached the charm to the notch in the corner. “Thanks, I love it. It’s one of the best presents I’ve gotten.” He pulled Prompto close by the hand and smiled. “Kiss me?”

“Is that a royal order, your highness?” He teased, leaning down with a smile.

“I can’t make royal orders yet,” the prince replied, before their lips met in a surprisingly gentle kiss. It wasn’t deep and lusty like their normal exchanges. It was almost… sweet.

Prompto pulled away quickly, not liking the fluttering in his chest. It was too much. He couldn’t deal.

“Your majesty?” Ignis said calmly. “We must head back to the Citadel shortly if we’re not to be late to the Ball.”

“Fashionably late?” The king asked hopefully.

“Inexcusably.”

The king sighed — and Prompto was reminded of Noctis being told to eat his vegetables at dinner. “Fine. Noct! Pack up, time to go back.”

Noctis gave the exact same sigh. “Fine.” He tucked his phone away after giving the silver chocobo a fond stroke. “Better go get ready for the ball.”

“Right. The ball.” The end of the world. He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

“His Lordship, Neminem Xerces, Second son of the Duke of Xerces, Knight of the Third Order,” a grand voice announced, before the doors opened and let Xerces though.

“Neminem,” Prompto whispered to himself. He’d finally heard Xerces’s first name!

They weren’t going in alphabetical order tonight. Stupid Drautos had gone first, and then Amicitia. Surprise surprise, Prompto was last in line.

The doors closed again, and Prompto stepped up into place where they would open. “How’s my hair?” He whispered to the Kingsglaive standing by the door.

They huffed in amusement. “You look fine, kid.”

Inside the doors, he heard the fancy guy doing the announcements bang his stick on the ground again. “Mister Prompto Argentum.” And then there was an awkward pause because he had absolutely nothing else to add to the end of the announcement. Everybody else had titles and family connections to follow.

The doors opened and he took a deep breath, stepping through into the strategically placed lights at the top of the stairs.

He felt like a monkey in a tuxedo, dressed up in his fancy suit. (It had a normal tie which he thinks means it’s not a tuxedo but, dude. Same diff.) But the way Noctis smiled when he looked up was almost worth it. Not bad for his Cinderella moment.

Giving the prince a cheeky grin, he decided to play up the fact he was at the royal ball. In an overdramatically graceful move, he raised one hand at his side and floated it down to the marble bannister of the staircase. He descended slowly, channeling his inner Disney Princess until he came to a stop in front of the little stage where King Regis was sitting on a slightly-less ornate throne and Noctis was standing beside him. One hand crossed over his heart, he politely lowered his eyes as he bowed from the waist and sunk slightly at the knees.

When he rose back up, he gave them both a cheeky grin. “Thanks for the invite Reggie.”

“Thank you for coming, Prompto,” the king replied with a smile. He rose to his feet, it was a little shaky but he didn’t think anyone else noticed — they weren’t close enough to see.

He stood aside, moving back to the crowd as the king announced the beginning of the ball. Noctis pulled a playful face at Prompto and then moved to open the ball — unfortunately with Drautos. More Rank-Order shit.

Noctis was capital-D Done after he’d gotten through Fortis and he apologised to the party that he was excusing himself from the rest of the dancing. On account of his knee.

Then he came over to sink into the seat next to Prompto with a groan. He’d hidden himself in an alcove curtain, nursing a cup of punch, looking at the sky as a bunch of illegal fireworks were set off across the city to wish their prince happy birthday.

Noctis huffed. “That’s it. No more dancing until I have to.”

Prompto put a hand to his chest. “Bro,” he said, pretending to be wounded. “You don’t want to dance with me? I’m heartbroken, I tell you. Heartbroken.”

Noctis laughed at him. “Don’t worry. We’ll get to dance later.”

Right. After the announcement of the Delicium, Noctis had to share a formal dance with the guy — and then after that the official part of the ball was over. (In case he wanted to leave the room right away to start his First Night.) He’d be able to dance with whoever he wanted then, and then he could dance with Prompto without needing to dance with the twenty other people ahead of him in line.

And then maybe he would leave. And he’d be with his Delicium. And he’d never be able to have sex with anyone again until he got married. (Or his Delicium left? He didn’t wanna ask what happened there with the King’s one fleeing the city.) No matter what he tried to tell himself, that they could be friends even if they couldn’t bang any more, he knew it wouldn’t work out. Noctis’s life was probably as intensely planned as this week had been, every hour of the day accounted for. Even if Ignis was fond of him, he’d struggle to find even a minute to spare for the prince to go slum it with a pleb he had no connection to.

“You okay there, Prompto?” Noctis asked, nudging him with his elbow. “You’re brooding. That’s my thing.”

“Sorry bro,” he said, setting down the delicate crystal glass that was still half-full of punch. “Just thinking. Everything’s gonna be different after tonight.”

“Not everything,” Noctis reassured him. “Try not to worry about it.”

“That’s my secret cap,” he deadpanned, “I’m always worried.”

Noctis laughed and nudged him again. But if he had been going to say anything, he was interrupted by the tinkling of a glass.

“If I can have your attention, ladies and gentlemen?” Called Ignis. “His majesty will now make the announcement of the appointment of Crown Prince Noctis’s Delicium.”

“We should get out there,” Noctis said, getting to his feet as Ignis continued to make a speech thanking everyone for coming to the tournament.

Prompto stood, his hands shaking badly. “I thought we’d have more time,” he whispered, doing a decent job of holding back his tears.

Noctis reached out to squeeze his hand. “Hey. You’re gonna be okay, Prompto. I promise.”

“Kiss me?” He asked, hardly loud enough to hear over the beginning of His Majesty’s speech.

Noctis smiled — and it was so tender. It hurt Prompto somewhere in the chest he didn’t let himself think about. Then he leaned in and pressed their lips together. It was soft, tentative — emotional, like their kiss earlier on the boat. It was too much. It was a goodbye.

“Prince Noctis,” his majesty called, “if you would come to the stage please.”

“It’s time,” Noctis said, stealing a quick kiss before he headed out to the little stage.

Prompto went to the edge of the curtain, leaning against it and refusing to let himself cry. This was the end. They were over.

“My dear son,” the king said, his voice filled with so much affection. (Almost too much considering this was a formal ceremony, maybe.) “It is a king’s task to appoint the crown prince’s retinue. With Gladiolus Amicitia as your Shield, and Ignis Scientia as your Chamberlain — they stand behind me in support of this decision. Much like my father before me, the task of picking from your list of Candidates was exceedingly simple.” There was laughter in his eyes — and Prince Noctis gave his father a quick smile. “It is my duty — and indeed, more than my duty in this instance — it is also my pleasure to appoint the third member of your retinue.” He turned to the crowd, looking regal and confident.

Okay. Go time.

He would applaud. He wouldn’t cry. If it was Drautos he wouldn’t swear (out loud).

“I present before the court, the Delicium of Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, One Hundred and Fourteenth of the line of the Lucii:” He paused for dramatic effect. (Prompto couldn’t six damned breathe.) “Prompto Argentum.”

…

……

………

Wait what the fuck.

Did he hear that right?

Nobody around the room had gasped in shock or cried out in protest. There was some light applause across the crowd — Domitian Drautos did not look happy, but neither did he look shocked. He almost thought he heard someone say “duh!”

Noctis smiled at him — and it was soft and happy but calm. Really calm. Like he’d known this was coming.

Fuck. Of course he did. The king had all but said Noctis only put down one Candidate.

It was him?!

The king met Prompto’s eyes made a regal gesture and, fuck, oh right. This was a ceremony. He had to go up there. On that stage. To be sworn in as Delicium. Prince Noctis’s Delicium!

He felt like someone should have forewarned him. This wasn’t fair.

Hardly able to feel his feet, he walked up to the stage and stood in front of the king. Helpfully, Gladio mouthed: “kneel!”

He sunk onto his knees, bowing his head. The king made a sword appear in blue light (dude what the fuck he could do that?) and laid the flat of the blade on Prompto’s shoulder.

“Prompto Argentum,” he said grandly. (Prompto wanted to laugh hysterically or cry. Maybe both. Maybe he would just laugh until he cried.) “Do you swear henceforth to dedicate your life to the service of Prince Noctis? To be his companion and confidante, his solace in times of need, and to ensure he wants for no physical need?”

He swallowed. “I do?” He said uncertainly. No wait fuck that was a wedding thing, right?!

The sword lifted, crossed over his head and rested on his other shoulder. “Do you swear to remain beside the prince as he has need of you, until such a time as your role ends by mutual agreement?”

“I do,” he said, more confidently this time, since no one had told him off for saying ‘I do’ the first time.

“Rise, Prompto Argentum.”

He did, but he wasn’t entirely certain he didn’t float right up to the roof and straight up through to the sky??

“Prince Noctis, Do you submit to this appointment of your retinue?”

“I do, your majesty,” Noctis said, bowing shallowly to his dad.

“Then it is so decreed: Prince Noctis, you will have Prompto Argentum as your Delicium.” He banished the sword and took both their hands, pressing them together. “So it is done.”

You may now kiss the bride, Prompto thought hysterically.

Using their joined hands, Noctis led Prompto out to the middle of the ballroom, where a wide space had been cleared on the dance floor. Oh gods. All six of the gods. (Yes, even Bahamut.)

“You’re shaking,” Noctis whispered as they reached the middle of the room.

“I don’t know how to waltz,” he whispered back, because now he had that to panic about too.

Noctis smiled, and took Prompto into his arms. One hand around his waist, the other holding their still-linked hands — Prompto awkwardly put his hand on the prince’s waist in return. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ll lead you.”

Chapter Text

The door of the prince’s chambers make a soft snick as they close. Iggy and Gladio aren’t there with them tonight. Not inside the rooms at least. He was Delicium now, trusted to be alone with the prince. (There’s still guards outside the door, but the privacy of the room sits in Prompto’s stomach like leadweight.)

((Who is going to throw condoms at them now??))

Prompto was standing awkwardly by the couch while Noct dealt with the guard and the door. He almost started when he felt hands wrap around his waist, the hot weight of Noct pressing up against his back.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since I saw you in that suit,” he whispered hotly against Prompto’s neck. “Coming down those stairs like a fucking daydream. Then I had to wait for the whole ball bullshit to be over before I could to take you.”

“I…” Why was it so hot in here? “I need…” Was Noct squeezing his chest? Why couldn’t he breathe? “I need to sit down.” And then his knees gave out.

Noctis carefully lowered him down to the ground, shuffling around so they were face-to-face. “Prom? You okay?”

“Uh…” He replied eloquently. And then he laughed. Laughed until he couldn’t stop and his stomach was seizing with protest and air couldn’t get into his lungs and was he laughing or hyperventilating???

There were gentle hands touching his cheeks. “Breathe with me, Prompto,” a soft voice commanded.

Eventually he calmed down. And then he blinked at Noctis through the damp tangle of his eyelashes. The prince looked so worried for him. “You back with me, Prom?”

“Think so, dude.” He reached up to ruffle his hair, where it was hot and damp and sticking to the back of his neck and his forehead. “...you picked me,” he said accusingly.

Noctis raised an eyebrow. “...uh. Obviously.” He gestured around the empty room.

“You picked me,” he repeated, adding more stress onto the last word. “Are you an idiot?”

“...depends who you ask?” Noct replied uncertainly. Clearly with no idea where this conversation was going or coming from.

“I feel ambushed here, buddy. Ambushed. Someone should have told me this was coming. Someone should have told me this was a possibility.”

“Pretty sure the whole point of you coming to the tournament meant that this was a possibility—” He cut himself off and tilted his head at Prompto. “Wait, you’re serious. You didn’t see this coming.”

“Who could see this coming?!” He asked hysterically.

“...literally every person in the Citadel or connected enough with it to hear the rumours?” Noct answered, a little disbelieving. “Gravy Amicitia even said ‘duh’ after you were announced!”

“But you can’t pick me!” he protested, as if it hadn’t happened already.

Noctis’s forehead furrowed together in the cutest look of confusion Prompto had ever seen in his lifetime. “I… already did?”

“Dude, why?” His stomach clenched in a tight knot. “Oh six. That conversation with the king in the garden. That wasn’t a friendly chat. That was my Candidate interview.”

“Yeah? Dad said you did really well?” Noctis continued to look at him all confused and cute. “I don’t get it. You don’t want this?”

“I’m not saying that!” he said quickly. “I’m saying that I didn’t even know I was allowed to want this???”

Noctis sat back, face wrinkling up a little more and oh boy that was even cuter. “How…? I skipped out like half the tournament events to hang out with you alone? Specs stopped even apologising for it after the chocobo ride?” He looked at him in disbelief. “What did you even think was going on…?”

“That we were spending as much time together as possible before you couldn’t any more because you had a Delicium?” He replied, feeling really fucking stupid. “...everybody else knew?”

“To quote: duh.” Noctis ran a hand through his hair. “All those jokes about picking Xerces or Vaullerey… not jokes?”

“Not jokes!” he said, hating how his voice squeaked.

“I don’t get it, Prompto,” Noctis said helplessly. “Why would I pick anyone else? You’re you.”

“Yeah, exactly! I’m me!”

They stared at each other for a moment and then awkwardly laughed, looking away.

Prompto fiddled with his cufflinks. “I’m just a pleb. I’m not smart, or brave, or important. I’m just me. Just… me.”

“Oh Prompto.” Noctis moved forward, cupping his face and gently bringing their lips together. “Yes, you’re you. You’re bright, and funny, and kind, and you understand me. Me, not Prince Noctis—Me, Noct. Not one of these people see through my crown to who I am. Nobody but you. Why wouldn’t I want you by my side?”

He sat bewildered through another couple of gentle kisses. “You could have anyone.”

“And I want you,” Noctis answered. “You’re the one I want to collapse into bed with after a long day of royal bullshit. I want to hear you go on about anything else when I need to forget what’s going on. I want to fuck you, and have you fuck me. I don’t want anyone else to have you—your body, your attention, your lips.” He stroked the tip of his index finger across said lips, sending little shivers of pleasure down his spine. “I want to taste your come.”

“Dude,” he whined. “Don’t distract me with the promise of blowjobs. This is serious. You picked me. You somehow got your dad, the king, to agree that I was a good choice. I’m in disbelief here. Complete and utter disbelief.”

Noctis just sighed. “Can we get off the floor? My back is already killing me.”

“Fine,” Prompto said. “We’re taking this to the bedroom. But don’t think we’re gonna fuck until we’ve talked this out!”

They did stay up all night talking. Kept hands above clothes until the sun rose, even.

Noctis told him everything — his fears; his hopes for the future; his anxiety about his dad (and the relief at seeing him really smile again, even just in Prompto’s photograph); his terror of disappointing the people who loved him and oh yeah, the entire kingdom too.

Talked about fishing, about photography, about video games (the prince actually played video games!!) — talked about his attack; about Tennebrae, about Luna; about the damage to his leg and the lifelong chronic pain he had to endure.

Talked about growing up alone — in a Citadel crowded with too many people to count, waited on hand and foot; and in a house that was empty more often than it was full.

About being weak and physically handicapped when he was supposed to be strong, a fighter; about being trapped in too much flesh and fat, when all he wanted to do was shrink and shrink and shrink until he disappeared.

About being so lonely only sleeping/running could make it the pain away.

Their favourite movies, books, bands, artists, festivals — (and Prompto was too exhausted at that stage to notice he thought he knew all of those answers.)

Planned what they would do from now. An apartment somewhere in the city, with the biggest comfiest bed in the whole world; and a couch to collapse on when they couldn’t be bothered to make it to the bedroom. Huge TV with all the consoles — Iggy would probably insist on a decent kitchen. Every night spent together when Noctis could spare it (every night if he could manage). Prompto would officially live at home until he was 18, and Noct would always officially live at the Citadel — but unofficially they’d build their little home together.

Prompto would have to have lessons. Lessons in etiquette and noble customs and body language and physical training so he, too, could protect Noct when it came down to it. (Iggy was a badass with daggers apparently.) “But don’t let them change you, Prompto,” he mumbled, hardly awake as light peeked through the heavy drapes, “I want my Delicium to be you, not you to be my Delicium.”

(He giggled and said that was the same thing. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t.)

“Guess we can stay up all night talking after all,” Prompto said, tugging the drapes around the bed closed so it could stay nice and dark for sleepytimes.

“Oh Prompto. I wasn’t worried about being able to do that.” He was sleepy and cryptic and Prompto kissed his dumb sleepy face.

They kissed and pressed and grinded and spilled into Prompto’s hand. And since he couldn’t be bothered to get up, he licked himself clean and they fell asleep with Noctis still trying to kiss their combined flavour out of his mouth.

Quicksilver [1:36pm]: Bro. Bun. Dude. My buddy. You’re not going to believe what I have to tell you.

Carbuncle [3:04pm]: Try me.

Quicksilver [3:06pm]: Chat tonight?
[3:07pm]: I know we never have before but… can we video call? There’s someone I want to introduce you to.

Chapter Text

Prompto gave a quiet moan and pushed Noctis away from his neck. “Stop it. I’ve got a date soon.”

Noctis hummed and buried back into his neck to bite. “I don’t think I like you calling it a date.”

“Bro,” Prompto snorted, shoving him away again. “Fine. I have an appointment to video chat with my bestest friend in all of Eos and tell him my life changing news. And all about this week and my new position.”

“Want me to leave?” Noctis asked, but he was making himself comfortable in Prompto’s bed anyway. No intention to leave.

“Nah,” he said. “If it all goes well, then maybe I can introduce you to him?”

Noctis smiled indulgently, eyes shiny with some kind of amusement. “Yeah. Okay. Should I get my blond wig back out?”

Prompto snorted and shoved his face down into the pillow with one hand. “Fuck no. You looked ridiculous.”

Noctis laughed and fought him off, until he was settled sitting against the headboard. “Yeah. Okay. I’ve got stuff to do anyway. Go talk with your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Prompto huffed, tossing another pillow at him and then moving to his computer desk. He plugged his headset in to his cell — he should probably get a webcam at some point, but for now his cell would do.

“I’m surprised they’re not chocobo shaped,” Noctis teased, plugging in some earbuds to his own phone to give Prompto some privacy while he talked.

“They don’t sell those!” Prompto huffed, throwing an eraser at him over his shoulder.

“Mm. Maybe I’ll get some custom made, for your birthday.”

“Shuddup,” he complained, and then yanked the headphones on over his ears. He only slightly heard Noctis’s laugh — noise-reducing headphones aw yeah.

Quicksilver [5:01pm]: Ready Bun? All set up and ready to go.

Carbuncle [5:01pm]: Ready.

Oh that was quick.

Prompto fumbled with his phone, pressing through to connect the video call. It was barely a moment of the ringing before it connected.

His video did the little spinning half-circle thing until his fat face appeared in the little corner of his screen. Carbuncle’s profile picture was still sitting in place — his camera not connected.

“Well, Uh… hi?” Prompto said with an awkward smile. “Don’t swoon with how pretty I am — I’m spoken for.”

Bun’s huffed laugh traveled through the filter. “No promises.”

Prompto shifted awkwardly in his seat, catching sight of Noctis smiling at his phone behind him. Fond and affectionate — maybe he was watching cat videos. Then he was gone again, and he was focusing on that icon. “Uh… are you gonna put your video on, Bun?”

“Yeah…” Carbuncle took a deep breath. “Don’t freak out on me, okay?”

“No promises,” he returned, giving an awkward laugh. “Promise I won’t scream if you look like Deadpool?” He offered instead.

Carbuncle gave an awkward laugh. “Right. Okay.” Then the icon disappeared, and it was replaced by the spinning circle. He felt his stomach twisting up as he waited.

And then his breath died in his throat. Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum was smiling at him nervously out from his cell screen.

“...dude. Dude.” He whirled around in his seat, getting tangled up in his headset cable as he pointed accusingly at him. “What.”

The tone of the call ending sounded in his ear, and he shook his head free of the headset.

“I said not to freak out,” Noctis groaned, tugging out his earbuds and turning to sit up and face him. “Prompto? Sil?”

“Dude!” he yelled, his voice cracking in panic. “You’re Carbuncle?”

“Yeah.” Noctis gave Prompto a shy smile.

“...you knew I was Quicksilver?” He demanded.

“Uh. Yeah. I did. Sorry.” He rubbed a hand through his dark hair guiltily.

“For how long?!”

“...since the beginning,” Noctis mumbled. “They gave me a file before they let me Friend you online. Your name, age, details about your school and home life. S’how I knew you were adopted.”

Prompto choked on his own throat, turning back around to face his desk and trying to untangle himself. His chest was hurting with how hard his heart was pumping. He was taking deep breaths, refusing to have a panic about this.

When he turned around, he was a little calmer. He scowled at Noct. “Was that the whole deal with Invus when we met at the Citadel?” He demanded.

“...yeah,” Noctis replied, blushing in embarrassment at the reminder. “I was hoping you’d recognise me as Carbuncle. I could’ve sworn you’d caught on when you asked me about King’s Knight. I didn’t realise until Brunch that you hadn’t.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” Prompto asked angrily. He felt tricked, swindled and fooled.

“I don’t know,” Noctis whispered. “You were angry with me. And it already seemed like too much that we knew each other as kids, I didn’t know what you’d do if you found out I was your online buddy too.”

“Oh my god, I’m C.B.,” Prompto said, the realisation hitting him. But then he shook it off and grabbed back onto his anger. “You lied to me! You told me you wanted to meet me because you didn’t recognise my name!”

The prince cringed. “Okay. Yeah. I lied about that part. I wanted to meet you because I knew Prompto Argentum was by Quicksilver. The rest…”

Prompto just held up a finger and shushed him. Thought hard about it, about how he felt. About Noct — sweet, sexy prince Noctis — being his best buddy. Being his Carbuncle.

“...there’s no way Iggy doesn’t know. I sent him an email from my Quicksilver account.”

“Yeah. I thought so. He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is.” Noctis sighed. “You mad at me?”

“Furious. I get why you didn’t tell me you were the prince before. Safety concerns, security, all that shit you have to put up with. But you should’ve told me before. I talked about you. You talked about me, to me.” He took a deep breath. “But you’re gonna make it up to me. Because I’m your Delicium, and you’re my Carbuncle.” He stood and headed across the two or three steps to the bed. “I’m thinking blowjobs. Lots and lots of blowjobs.”

Noctis gave him a tired, grateful smile. “I can do that.” With gentle hands, he coaxed him down onto the bed beside him. “So… Sil. You said you had some big news to tell me? Life changing stuff?”

“Well, Bun, it’s all about this boy I met…”