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They’re in a bar in Lestallum. It has Gladio’s favorite beer and Prompto is absolutely positive he’s in love with the really tall, really beautiful bartender. Ignis likes the food and Noctis likes the quiet.
Gladio is off playing Justice Monsters with a woman who, none to discreetly, suggested they head off on their own. He probably thinks he looks very cool, but the woman isn’t looking at his arcade techniques. Her gaze is much lower.
Prompto is leaning against the bar, far more suave and comfortable now that he’s two drinks in, and flirting easily with the bartender. She’s a head taller than Prompto with hair as short as his, but she’s smiling and flirting back. Ignis isn’t sure if it’s because she’s looking for a good tip or because she finds Prompto charming. Could be either way – Prompto is being quite the charmer tonight.
He and Noctis are on the other side of the bar. Noct’s had a drink – and a half by a glance at his glass – and is picking at the remains of his fries. Ignis sips halfheartedly at his wine. It’s a bit too sweet for his usual tastes, but his anak skewers had been very good. He occupies himself with his phone, reading an article about the skewers on his favorite website. Perhaps he can adjust the recipe so he can use some of the fish Noctis catches.
The prince, next to him, heaves a sigh. His cheek is leaning against his fist and his eyes are closed. Ignis smirks at him from over his glasses. “Were the sabertusks too much of a challenge for you, highness?” he asks cheekily, scrolling up to read comments on the article. Perhaps there are some ideas listed there.
Noctis snorts. “No,” he retaliates, opening his eyes and sitting to attention. “I’m just ready to lay down.”
“So, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Shut up.”
Ignis smiles and sets his phone down. “If you’re ready to head back to the room, I can go collect Gladio and Prompto.” He leans forward, looking toward their companions.
“Nah, they’re both, uh,” he squints at both, amused, “occupied.”
Ignis chuckles and shakes his head fondly. He starts to respond before he feels a tap on his shoulder. Looking to his right he turns to find a very attractive man – styled blond hair, a chiseled jaw, broad shoulders – smiling at him. His thoughts stutter to a halt and his brow creases. “Can I help you?” he asks.
“Yeah, sorry.” And a deep, alluring voice on top of it all. Noctis has noticed too and is peeking around curiously from behind Ignis’s back. “I don’t have a line or anything. I just saw you and... well.” He gestures to Ignis, as if that explains anything.
“Well?” Ignis glances over his shoulder to Noct.
“Here.” The man takes his hand, pressing a napkin into his palm.
His phone number is scrawled onto the material along with his name – Nial. Oh.
Thankfully, the light is dim in the bar. Ignis purses his lips in embarrassment and takes back his hand, holding it at his chest. “Well… my thanks,” he nods.
“Sure. Call me.” Nial tilts his head, like he knows how good looking he is.
“I, ah,” Ignis looks down at his hand where the napkin is crumpled as he closes his fist.
“Anything.” Nial touches Ignis’s upper arm, lightly and lingering. “Just call me, okay?”
Unable to form any sort of response, Ignis lets him walk away and would be a liar if he said his eyes didn’t watch the way his shoulders moved beneath his shirt. He turns back to the bar, his fist still clenched and blinks at Noctis.
“Did…”
“Wow.” Noctis is… he looks offended and, perhaps, a bit impressed.
“Yes.”
“He really…” The prince shook his head, pushing his plate away and downing the rest of his drink. “Wow.”
“Yes,” Ignis agrees again.
But Noctis is frowning and tapping his finger against the bar, chewing on his cheek and spinning in his stool. He keeps looking over Ignis’s shoulder to where Nial walked to, but Ignis doesn’t dare follow his gaze. Noct looks… angry?
“Are you alright?” Ignis tilts his head toward him, concern suddenly more prevalent than his embarrassment.
Noct thumbs at the condensation on his glass and shrugs. “Yeah, I mean – just wow. He really walked up to you and gave his number when we’re…” He gestured between them. “I mean we’re not, but he doesn’t know that.”
Ignis’s lips part and his eyebrows draw in. They’re not? Not what?
“That was just really… what would you say?” Noct rolls his shoulders and sits up straight, adopting an accent. “Presumptuous of him.”
“It certainly was… unexpected.”
“He just walks up next to you when you’re sitting with me and…” Noct trails off and manages to get the bartenders attention and she brings him another drink. He drinks half of it while Ignis watches him quietly, taking a deep breath as he sets it back down on the counter.
“Are you going to call him?” The question is soft and Ignis can barely hear it.
They’re not.
Ignis clears his throat and he can feel heat rising up the back of his neck. “He isn’t my type,” Ignis reassures him, dropping the napkin on the counter, number down.
It isn’t a lie. Nial is attractive, and Ignis won’t deny that. But he isn’t short and moody. Doesn’t have unruly black hair and piercing blue eyes. No affinity for fishing, avoidance of vegetables, and fond of naps in the back of a car.
He isn’t Noctis.
“Are you kidding?” Noct raises his eyebrows at him. “A guy like that is everybody’s type.”
Ignis snorts. “Well I’m happy to give his number to you, Noct, if you’re so eager.”
Scowling, the prince shakes his head. “He’s not my type.”
“Then he cannot be everyone’s type.”
“Ignis—”
Reaching forward, Ignis grasps Noct’s forearm and smiles. “I’m not going to call him.”
“You’re not?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “You’re right. It was presumptuous of him to approach me. Flattering, but it’s a bit too cocky for me.” He pulls his hand back and waves between them. “Giving me his number in front of you while we could be…”
They look at each other and it’s, to adopt Noct’s mantra, wow.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Noct blurts. For a moment, it looks like he regrets asking, and he stumbles over his words, “I mean, we’re on the same tab, I guess,” he looks behind the bar, as if he can escape, “but, I mean, I thought…”
“I’d love that,” Ignis interrupts him.
“You… yeah?” Noctis perks up.
“Yes.” Ignis scoots his stool closer to Noct’s, napkin abandoned and forgotten, so that their shoulders brush against each other. “As it happens, jealous, stuttering boys are my type.”
“I wasn’t jealous,” Noctis argued, bumping their shoulders together, but he’s still smiling.
“Whatever his highness says.”
Noctis rolls his eyes, but they’re shining and he’s trying to hide his smile.
Ignis wants to always see him this happy.
When they leave the bar, Noctis makes sure that Nial sees them leave together, hand in hand.