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It’s early in the afternoon when Ignis finally finds himself free of the shackles of duty. Fridays normally aren’t a day where the chamberlain finds himself with ample time; with Noct’s busy schedule and his own needs, today is normally the day for grocery shopping and errand running. However, Gladio’s taking Noctis camping, supposedly to teach him survival skills but Ignis knows it’s really just to fish.
He can’t complain. He’s still human, he still needs time to take care of himself, as loathe as he is to admit it out loud. There’s tea to be steeped, books to be read, and a new documentary on Tenebraen desserts waiting for him at home. He can hear it calling his name, begging to be indulged in.
He’s a creature of habit, though. There are still things that need to be done before he can relax. Prompto was expressing interest in joining the Crownsguard the other day and Ignis promised he would drop off the paperwork, as well as a brochure containing pertinent information for interested potential recruits. It’s not that Ignis is looking for an excuse to visit him. The black, glossy paper of the brochure sticks to Ignis’s fingers as he takes it in his hand and approaches the door to Prompto’s apartment.
Ignis presses the button to ring Prompto’s studio with a gloved finger. After he waits a moment, there’s no answer, which is peculiar. If Prompto’s not at school or with Noctis, he’s normally here. Ignis shifts the small stack of papers he’s clutching to his chest and buzzes it again.
“H-hello?” Prompto’s voice carries from the speaker.
“Prompto, can you buzz me in?”
“Oh! Iggy! Yeah, sure, one sec.”
There’s a buzz, a click, and one short elevator ride before Ignis is walking down Prompto’s hallway. The spunky blonde sounded odd over the intercom, but that may have just been the rather lacking quality of the speaker’s audio. Prompto’s studio door is already swinging open just as Ignis raises a hand to rap his knuckles against the door.
“Hey! I thought you were camping with Gladio and Noct,” Prompto says.
“Hello, Prompto,” Ignis says, looking down at Prompto, who’s dressed in some rather unusual garb. The blonde, who normally opts for tank tops and boots with more buckles than necessary, looks rather ethereal. His skin is adorned in a sheer, gauzy fabric, gathered at the boatneck cut across his chest before elegantly flowing down his shoulders. It has just the slightest touch of peachy pink to it, and the color enhances the blonde’s sunkissed skin. Ignis catches himself staring just a little too long; Prompto’s blushing and it’s then that Ignis notices he’s wearing just a touch of concealer.
“Am I interrupting something?” Ignis manages to choke out in a casual tone. “If you’re going out, I can come back later.”
Prompto’s blush intensifies. “No! Uh. I was just working on a project. Come in!”
Ignis enters the apartment warily. The kitchenette counter is covered in photography equipment: Prompto’s favorite film camera, as well as a tripod and a reflector. From here, he can see clothes scattered across the bathroom floor and a small bag of makeup sitting on the counter. There’s an array of objects scattered across the floor in front of the futon; it’s then that Ignis realizes they’re plants. Sunflowers, cattails, grasses, daisies, and a variety of smaller blooms that Ignis can’t recognize.
Ignis’s lips curl into a subtle smile at the flowers. They’re eye-catching, and the aroma they fill the room with is delicate and beautiful. Prompto sits on the floor amongst the chaos and grabs a handful of grass. Ignis sets his papers on a bare spot of counter next to the fridge before crossing his arms and watching with interest as Prompto carefully weaves the grasses into a circle.
“I didn’t know you knew how to weave,” Ignis says.
Prompto smiles, worrying his lower lip as he does so. “Oh, I kinda just learned today. I figured if you all were gonna be gone I should use the free time to do my own thing.”
“What, pray tell, is your ‘own thing?’”
Prompto blushes again. “See, this is why I was waiting for you all to go out of town... “ he chuckles. “You guys would sooo make fun of me for this.”
Ignis sits on the floor across from Prompto, carefully tucking his legs underneath him to avoid creasing his pants. He’s curious now; he’s never seen Prompto in action before. He knows the blonde likes taking photos, but he’s never actually witnessed him behind the lens. “Try me,” Ignis says with a smile.
Prompto just seems to stutter more at Ignis’s willingness. His eyes drop from Ignis’s and he grabs a large sunflower from a vase that’s full of flowers. “I was thinking of taking some self-portraits,” he muses, the subtlest frown twisting his lips. “But I don’t like photographing myself.”
“Is it harder to take photos of yourself? I imagine with a tripod and a timer, it shouldn’t be hard.”
“That’s not it,” Prompto mutters.
Ignis watches as Prompto threads a daisy in next to the sunflower. Next is a dried grass that looks like honeycomb. The way Prompto arranges them reminds Ignis of a halo. The organization looks haphazard at first, but Ignis can see there’s great tact and significance in the way Prompto weaves the plants together. He seems oddly focused on the task at hand.
Perhaps it’s not the action of photographing that’s the hard part, but asking outright is hard; Prompto and Ignis aren’t close. When he thinks about it, he’s merely Prompto’s best friend’s chamberlain. The degree of separation makes Ignis suddenly feel like he’s intruding on a private moment and the silence is awkward.
“I don’t wish to intrude,” Ignis says with a polite smile. “I’ve left your application, as well as a brochure, on the counter.”
“You’re not intruding!” Prompto exclaims. With a quiet voice, he says, “You can stay. If you want.”
“I’ll admit, I’m intrigued by your project,” Ignis says, taking a daisy from the vase and smelling its sweet fragrance before peeking at Prompto over its soft, white petals.
“I’m making a flower crown,” Prompto says. The crown, now complete, dangles from his fingers between his criss-crossed legs. “I was gonna wear it for the portrait. But then I was thinking about it and I realize I don’t have a location. My apartment isn’t really… it’s not the feel I was going for.”
“Feel? Do you mean your aesthetic?” Ignis asks.
“Yes! Aesthetic! Leave it to Iggy to think of the perfect word,” Prompto says, flashing a smile.
“What’s your desired aesthetic, then? Perhaps I can be of assistance.”
“I just want to be beautiful- it to be beautiful,” Prompto says, correcting himself quickly. “Simple and beautiful and, yeah. I dunno.”
Simple. Beautiful. Ignis knows that it’s not the photograph itself that Prompto’s talking about. That slip couldn’t have made things plainer. He’s talking about himself and gods, it’s so hard not to point out that he is beautiful. Especially now, with the gentle drape of chiffon around his shoulders and the way his hair falls in front of his face, unstyled, with just the slightest curl. The way he smiles bashfully as he talks about his art like he’s showing Ignis this secret little part of himself is beautiful too. It’s so much more organic, natural, than the way he normally presents himself, and Ignis is more smitten with him now than he was moments before when he was simply answering the door.
“I know just the place,” Ignis says with a smile. “I brought the car. We could take your equipment.”
Prompto’s eyes light up with surprise and elation. “That- that would be sweet!”
“Let’s be off, then.”
___________________________
The indoor gardens of the Citadel are quiet. No one’s here; the sun sinks just below the horizon out the window, casting an ethereal, soft light over the flowers and plants. The trickle of water drizzling from a fountain fills the room with ambient noise. It’s cozy and warm here with the light and dizzying aroma covering him like a blanket. Ignis finds himself spending a lot of time here when he’s at the Citadel and in between tasks.
So much time, in fact, that he’s found little hiding places here and there that are more sequestered from the rest of the public garden. There’s a little bench near the back that’s low to the ground and surrounded by fragrant shrubs that have delicate, white blossoms the size of his hand. It’s simply beautiful by his standards, and he hopes that Prompto feels the same as they approach it.
Ignis turns to watch as Prompto takes in the gardens for the first time. He’s never been in the Citadel before, despite his best friend spending the majority of his time here when he’s not at school. He can tell by the wide eyes and apt smile that the blonde is just as taken with the garden as he is.
“Is it to your liking? We can go somewhere else, if you like.”
“Are you kidding, Igs? This is perfect.” Prompto says excitedly as he drops his tripod on the ground. Ignis tries not to watch the way his spry body moves under the fabric of his shirt as he fiddles with his equipment and instead focuses on the flower crown he was tasked with holding. Ignis tries to imagine the way the sunflowers will sit atop Prompto’s blonde locks or how the brown of their middles will match the freckles that dot his skin. It’s inappropriate to daydream about his charge’s best friend, he tells himself, but daydreams don’t hurt anyone or make things complicated.
Definitely not.
“Iggy, I need to make sure I have the light right,” Prompto says, taking the flower crown from Ignis. “Can you sit on the bench so I can adjust my aperture?”
Ignis sits on the bench and folding his gloved hands in his lap. This probably isn’t the way Prompto will pose, but it’s only for the light, so it doesn’t matter. He frowns as Prompto sets the flower crown atop his head, mussing his carefully sculpted updo. Prompto walks back to the camera, adjusting levers and pushing buttons, cursing under his breath. After a moment, he sets his hands on his hips with a smile.
“Okay. Ready.”
They trade places. Ignis sets the flower crown on Prompto’s head, who nervously adjusts it. Prompto kicks off his shoes a fair distance away so they’re out of the shot. The white jeans he wears are ripped and torn, exposing little patches of fair skin that Ignis wants to reach out and touch, gloveless, so he can feel the skin that’s surely as soft as it looks.
Prompto hugs his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them like a shield. He crosses his legs at the ankles. There’s a smile on his face, but it’s pained and anxious. He’s nervous, Ignis realizes.
“What’s wrong?” Ignis asks.
“Nothing,” Prompto replies curtly. He pulls his knees closer to his chest.
He shares a bittersweet smile with his companion as he sits next to him on the bench. “Prompto... “ he stops himself, though, from saying what he really wants; that he’s beautiful and this self-portrait will be nothing short of lovely. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Blue-violet eyes peek up at Ignis from below their curtain of yellow petals and blonde locks. There’s trepidation there, Ignis can see it, feel it , as the blonde opens and closes his mouth. He’s just as lost for words as Ignis. “I don’t like taking pictures of myself, y’know? Just, like, I don’t think I’m worth the effort or something. It’s whatever.”
Ignis tries to ignore the way his stomach sinks low in his gut or the urge to hold the small man in his arms until he’s convinced otherwise. “I think you’re mistaken. The photographer deserves to be captured as beautifully as his subjects,” Ignis says cautiously. “Do yourself the honor, Prompto. It will be worth it, I assure you. At least try.”
Prompto’s smile is hopeful and shy. “You’re right. Okay. Would you mind taking it? All you have to do is push the button.”
“It would be my pleasure, Prompto.” Ignis rises and walks over to the camera. Through the sight, he watches Prompto take a deep breath. His knees fall from his chest and Prompto curls them up to his side. Resting his weight on one hand, the other finds its way to his chest, where he takes the soft chiffon of his shirt in between his fingers. It’s such a delicate, beautiful sight to see Prompto arrange himself so perfectly on that weathered, old bench.
Ignis is ready to press the button when he notices that Prompto’s crown is crooked. A sunflower is drooping and a daisy’s about to fall from its grassy perch. “Prompto, your crown.”
“Huh?” the blonde reaches to adjust it, only making it droop further.
“Let me help you,” Ignis says, moving to kneel in front of Prompto. With nimble fingers, he rearranges the flowers until their arrangement is perfect. They compliment the face they frame so beautifully; he was absolutely right when he imagined the sunflowers’ centers would make those freckles stand out. Prompto’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks; Ignis wants to be those eyelashes, wants to touch that dreamy skin.
“Thanks, Iggy,” Prompto says with a soft smile. There’s something more than gratitude in those eyes, in the way there’s a haze over the violet irises that behold him. Ignis’s hand drops from the flowers to one of those cheeks; he can’t resist, he can’t not indulge, and they’re just as soft as he imagined. The hand that’s clutching chiffon moves to cradle one of Ignis’s against Prompto’s face.
“There. Simple. Beautiful,” Ignis whispers. “Now you and your crown match perfectly.”
“Iggy,” Prompto murmurs as his cheeks darken, his voice wavering slightly. He leans closer to Ignis, until Ignis can smell the alluring fragrance of flowers and feel Prompto’s shallow breath dance across his cheek.
Maybe daydreaming was a bit troublesome, Ignis thinks, as he closes the gap between them and presses a tender kiss to Prompto’s waiting lips. It quickly grows to something more passionate, something hungrier, and Ignis pulls away before desire takes over. They still have a task at hand to attend to. The blush that’s gracing freckled cheeks is wonderful; Ignis wants to capture it for himself. He steps away from Prompto and rushes to the camera.
“Look here, and think of your lips against mine,” Ignis says with a demure smile. Prompto looks perfect: slightly disheveled, lips a touch pinker than they were a moment ago, eyes bright and shiny. “Beautiful. This is perfect.”
Ignis takes several shots as Prompto holds his pose. His smile is so coy, so pleased with himself. Ignis wishes Prompto would show this side of himself more; he rather relishes the shy, thoughtful man before him. Then again, Ignis finds himself reveling in most of Prompto’s qualities. They’re so different, the two of them, but it’s those differences that make Ignis appreciate Prompto all the more. When he’s done taking the photos, Ignis turns off the camera.
Prompto blushes. “You done?”
“Done,” Ignis says.
“Good,” Prompto says. “Now come here and kiss me again.”