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He kept missing hits, forgetting to replace his magazine once he ran out. Bullets ricocheted off sandbags as Prompto fired at the hanging paper target again and again, only managing to hit the outer ring.
“Focus,” Ignis said loudly from beside him, holding his protective ear muffs tight to his face. “You musn’t be reckless in battle.”
Even with that thought in mind, Prompto simply couldn’t. He tried to steady his hands, tighten his grip around the cold metal—but with Ignis leaning close in that small, cramped booth, watching his progress, he always seemed to twitch as he fired his shot, aiming his bullets off course.
In the end, Prompto didn’t reach the quota Ignis aimed for. He was two headshots short. He lowered his sore arm, once in his life grateful to be able to put the gun down.
He couldn’t hide the evident relief from Ignis, though. He threw his backpack in the booth of Ignis’s car and settled down in the passenger’s seat, letting the air conditioner wash over him as he calmed; well, as much as he could, with a certain someone sitting right next to him.
But he wouldn’t go. The car didn’t move. Ignis kept the gear on parked, kept the hand-brake up. “Something on your mind?”
No, Prompto immediately wanted to say. It was his go-to answer for everything, not wanting to bring any more pity to himself. But now, alone with Ignis…he bit his lip, swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m thinking of Noct,” he said, partially the truth. “Of the engagement.”
He can tell Ignis accepted his answer by the slight tuck of his chin. “The announcement was a shock to us all,” he agreed. “It would throw one off balance.”
“Yeah,” Prompto said. He twiddled his fingers together, not daring to look anywhere else than the black leather of his gloves, of his worn out fingers lightly dusted with gunpowder. Not daring to look at the person right next to him.
Prompto wanted nothing more than for him to unpark the car and to roll him back to his tiny suburb, ending today’s daily torture. It was hard enough that he had to be evaluated by someone he greatly looked up to, someone he knew who looked at him as only a nuisance he had to take care of every day; he didn’t need these awkward silences to be routine, too.
Prompto sucked in a breath, gripped one of his hands closed.
Ignis was perfect in his eyes. He already had mastered his chosen weapon years ago, well before Prompto’s current age now. And along with it, countless life skills he couldn’t fathom about getting even the basics right. Ignis was Noct and Gladio’s best friend, and Prompto was just an outsider. Nothing. Nothing compared to him.
Someone like him would never feel the same way.
But…Ignis still kept the car in park, tapping his finger on the steering wheel in a slow rhythm. To calm himself, Prompto knew from years of being around him. “Is that all that’s bothering you?” he asked, and Prompto couldn’t read the tone in his voice. Of course he would’ve noticed something was wrong with him—he was Ignis, after all.
“Actually, uh,” Prompto started, and cleared his throat, willing strength—however false—in his words. “It’s because…the wedding?” It was the first thing that came to mind. “The wedding,” he repeated, to show he was certain, to both Ignis and himself. “Um, I don’t know how to dance fancy. I’ll make an absolute fool of myself there.”
It sounded stupid, sure. But believable enough, and an actual worry he had.
Whatever he thought then, about what Ignis would do next—it definitely wasn’t this. He pulled on the handbrake and reversed back onto the road, turning the opposite way from Prompto’s suburb, driving with intent. He answered every question Prompto asked him with a vague: “You will see.”
Ten minutes later they were in an elevator of the Citadel, rising up to the twentieth floor. It was a section with rooms and rooms specifically for early Crownsguard training; Prompto hadn’t been there in years. The elevator doors opened with a ding, and he followed at Ignis’s heels to what he realised was the eleventh room—the room he had used when starting out, the one he had shared with his friends.
For the first time he saw, the halls were completely deserted. It was mid-day on a Sunday. He shouldn’t have been surprised; but the silence, the absence of everything, it was jarring.
Ignis unlocked the room with a key and swung open the door. He switched on the lights, making the space look too bright mixed with the overhead sun’s rays shining through the massive glass windows.
And once he shut the door and it was only them in this empty room, Prompto immediately understood. He leant against a wall as he watched Ignis set his bag aside. “Only place big enough to practice, right?” he asked.
Ignis nodded. “And deserted enough, should you harm yourself.” He held his phone in his hand, scrolling, presumably searching for a song. “Unfortunately looks like that I have to be in the crossfire, though.
“Bully.” Prompto tilted his head back against the wall, exhaling deeply. “I mean, it’s literally just dancing. What am I going to do, accidentally kill someone with the cha-cha?”
Ignis didn’t look up. “You’d be surprised of what you’re capable of.”
And thankfully he didn’t; a blush quickly spread across Prompto’s cheeks at the sentiment. He aimed his gaze towards the floor and brought his hand up to his face, rubbing it, as to will the redness away.
When he recovered it wasn’t any better. Light—the light in the room was too bright, and Ignis was there, oblivious in the middle of it. The rays reflected on his face, making the curve of his lip and the arch of his brow look like they were almost glowing.
Gods, he was beautiful. It only made Prompto feel even more guilty. He was someone who was so out of his league—and here he was, taking time out of his already tight schedule for him because he couldn’t dance to save his life.
He definitely had better things to do, and Prompto definitely didn’t want to force him to spend this time with him. “Hey, Ignis?” It was barely a mumble, but Ignis heard; a brow raised. Prompto cleared his throat. “You don’t have to, y’know.”
Ignis only shook his head. “I wish to.” It was firm, honest. Prompto didn’t question him anymore. “This was something I had to learn as a child,” Ignis said, setting his phone down next to his messenger bag. “I’d be happy to teach you—it would also serve as a revisal for myself.”
There was a single moment then, where Prompto let his heart lead him on. Perhaps Ignis himself wanted also this. Perhaps Ignis took his excuse on and worried about him because he felt the same way.
Music spilled from his phone speakers, elegant and orchestral and sophisticated. Everything Ignis embodied and the complete opposite of what Prompto was. He pushed himself off the wall, every intention to tell him he couldn’t do this, but—
Ignis had his palm held out in front of him. “Here,” he said over the music, eyes sparkling in the glow of the overlit room. “Hold my hand.”
He didn’t know what overcame him that very moment, but Prompto took it.
Ignis held their hands beside them at chin level, placing his other on his shoulder. “Come up close,” Ignis said to him. “Put the other on my waist.”
This closeness—gods. Prompto didn’t even think about the implications ballroom dancing would bring when he muttered his excuse. The texture of his gloves, the light beauty marks on his cheeks, the sensitive, soft skin under his jawline…they were nearly overwhelming. Prompto had to steady himself from shaking as he set a hand upon the back of Ignis’s shirt.
It was apparently too light a touch; Ignis reached around and pressed his grip further until his fingers grazed the straps of his suspenders. “We’ll be doing the waltz,” he said, returning his hand onto Prompto’s shoulder. “You’re familiar, I presume?”
The weight of Ignis’s touches felt like they were burning holes into him. And now paired with that subdued playful smirk that was gracing his lips—Prompto felt the whole of Eos was trying to get him killed today. Were the astrals enjoying watching him trying not to lose it all? He couldn’t even quip back; at the least, he managed a nod.
The waltz was counted in steps of three, he learned, completely grateful to watch Ignis’s footsteps as he demonstrated the basic box-step. Grateful for anything that wasn’t his face. His handsome, beautiful face.
He kept his eyes on the ground as they took their first step together, and—he immediately tripped over Ignis’s shoe, scuffing the polished leather with his worn-out boots. “Ah, sorry—”
“Don’t let a stumble deter you,” Ignis said, bringing him back to balance. “Here, try again.” They went slower this time, Ignis now placing his steps further behind than before. “Think: one, two, three.”
“One, two, three,” Prompto muttered to himself with every movement. He soon could hear the beats in the soft music, trying to time his steps with them. “One, two, three.” The footwork was the hardest to perfect; the fraction of a second where he had to pass his other foot to the next corner always messed up his tempo. But Ignis never once berated him for it, only picked him back up, encouraged, encouraged, encouraged.
Like Prompto needed any more reasons to fall for him.
It was awhile to get into the rhythm, but once he felt it, he took the next steps with ease.
“You’re doing well so far,” Ignis said after a song had passed without a single stumble. “Would you like to move on?”
“There’s—more?” Prompto blinked, glad to be taking his arms off his friend as he stretched them out. “That was hard enough already.”
Ignis only smirked as he backed up to demonstrate. It was the box-step again, but with twisting, turning, tons of back steps. Prompto tried to watch carefully, tried to remember each turn; it only got muddled up in his mind, gave him more anxiety about this entire thing.
“Got it?” Ignis asked him, proud expectancy in his eyes, and it made him feel worse.
“I can’t do that,” Prompto said, shaking his head. The truth. The doubts started settling in again, and he closed an arm around himself, the bright room suddenly feeling unwelcome.
But Ignis only held out his hand once more. “Don’t fret,” he told him. “You’re doing much better than I was when I first learnt. I’m sure you’ll pick it up in no time.”
That was unexpected. Prompto’s head perked up. “Oh?”
“It took me a week to master those basic steps.” He sharply exhaled, small smile gracing his lips as he recalled. “Look at you now. Doing it all in under an hour.”
Astrals, he always knew the perfect thing to say to get him back up. Prompto couldn’t help but return the smile and take his hand.
There were stumbles, of course, but less than he expected. “Liken it to your Crownsguard training,” Ignis said to him as he tugged him up from a fall. “All in the steps.”
Prompto twisted and turned, his steps slow as he relearned the rhythm with the new complications. One, two, three. Ignis was right; it was easy once he got the directions down. It was only all on the twist of his body with each movement now.
Step, step, step. He got so into it he stepped out of the imaginary box—but he and Ignis didn’t care. His hand was firm on Ignis’s waist, tilting his head back like at the waltzes he saw on television. The music soon overcame him, the sharp violin sounding deep in his soul with every single step.
He closed his eyes, and everything came to him naturally; they were swaying in circles around the large expanse of the room, his sleeveless leather jacket and hair billowing in their quick movements. Prompto couldn’t even fathom the fear he had felt anymore as he turned and turned, Ignis close to him.
It was far from perfect, looking back. He still had gunpowder dusting his skin and clothes and Ignis still had all his utilities snapped onto his belt. But in that moment, it felt like there was only them in the whole world, spinning and the muffled footsteps their private conversation without words.
Yet…the zone he was in didn’t last for long. There was a wobble as he stepped a bit too far, and then suddenly it all went down. “Woah—!” He tripped over his heavy duty boots extremely ill-suited for ballroom dancing and planted his face right into Ignis’s stomach.
Ignis, with the sudden extra weight pressed against him, stumbled and landed flat on his behind. Thankfully this was a training room and the floors were padded for falls, but this—Prompto being so close—still managed to knock the breath out of his lungs.
The music was distant, on the other side of the room. It only made it even more awkward. “S—sorry,” Prompto stuttered out, lifting his head up.
And he met Ignis’s eyes. His glasses were skewed across his face, strands of his styled hair drooping down to his forehead. It took Prompto all his willpower not to bite his lip at the sight.
“It’s—alright,” Ignis managed out after what felt like an eternity in seconds, pushing his glasses back into place. He wasn’t meeting Prompto’s eyes as his friend got up first, didn’t look at him as he took his held out arm to get back to standing.
That redness on his face—was Prompto imagining it? No, no. There was definitely a blush across Ignis’s cheeks. But was it—because of him?
“M...moving on,” Ignis said low, brushing the loose strands of hair back to their places. “That was…you’re doing extremely well.”
The air between them felt so, so awkward. He had to puncture it with a bit of humour, for both his and Ignis’s sakes. “Even though I just nearly made you break your neck?” Prompto laughed.
And then blush was gone, replaced with a stifled laugh. “Obviously not counting that.” He shook his head. “Now, back to it…all that’s left to learn are the finishers, then you’ll grasp the basics of the waltz.”
“The—basics? There’s even more?”
Ignis hummed in agreement. “Can’t have you stumbling all over your lucky date for Noct’s wedding.”
Lucky—maybe he didn’t mean it that way, but it still made Prompto gulp. How could he tell him he wanted no one but him to be his partner?
But he held his tongue and followed him back to the music, once again grasping his hand. It felt different this time, a more personal thing. He thanked the gods that they were both wearing gloves. Had it been skin to skin, he wouldn’t know how he would’ve reacted.
He first learned a quick turn, one where he lifted his hand from Ignis’s waist and stood adjacent to him as he took a bow. Then it was a closer exit, one where he kept his hand on him and let their held one go, watching Ignis giving a half-hearted curtsey to the empty room as a song faded out.
But the hardest one was the one he was most familiar with. Ignis showed him the way he should twist his arm to dip his dance partner, emphasising body strength to hold them up. He showed him the way his partner would bend, stretching himself out as he tipped his head back. It only made Prompto laugh at him, beelining for his camera to preserve the moment.
His smile faded once his hands were pressed against Ignis again, though. “Continue like you’ve learned,” Ignis said. “When the song starts to fade, get ready.”
They danced, slower, more careful. Prompto made sure not to get too close to him this time. The song playing now wasn’t a loud resounding of violin or orchestra; it was low-tuned, sensual, a song that felt it was made for slow dances between lovers. He stared intently at Ignis’s shoulder, trying not to think of it much as he swayed with him.
Then it went a note lower, soft notes fading out. “Ready yourself,” Ignis whispered to him, and he let go of Prompto’s shoulder in preparation. It played one sharp tune; and Ignis nodded at him. “There—dip me.”
Prompto twisted his arms like he taught him, bending his knees and bringing him down as much as he could. He kept a stable hand on Ignis’s lower back, his other arm crossing their torsos to hold him tighter. Ignis threw his free hand out in the air, ending their dance with a brilliant pose.
The music had faded fully, and no song followed. The playlist had ended.
They were so close, so close. When Ignis set his hand back onto his shoulder and looked up to him, their faces were nearly touching. Prompto could see the small lines upon his lips, the delicate curve of his lashes, the hint of green in his eyes under his lenses, twinkling in the light.
There was nothing more he wanted than to close the gap. It was a perfect moment—he should’ve…
But Prompto swallowed his pride, pulling away. He twisted his arms to lift him back up straight, widening the distance between them with a step back.
“That was—good,” Ignis managed out. Was it his imagination—or did it seem like he was trying not to meet his eyes? “Very good.”
There was an ache in his heart beating too fast, berating him for missing the chance. But he couldn’t have—he didn’t want to make Ignis uncomfortable. He wanted to be sure that he wanted it, too.
“Um, thanks.” Prompto rubbed his neck, gaze darting everywhere but him. He could hear the blood rushing through him, feel the sweat dripping from his forehead. The room—it felt too stifling. He had to squeeze his eyes shut, running his hands across his face to hide his cheeks that were probably really red.
But—he felt a touch on his shoulder, and he looked. Ignis was there, cheeks matching his own. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice soft and full of concern.
Prompto could only give a small nod. And—he didn’t expect this at all, but Ignis reached out to his face, the leather tips of his gloves grazing Prompto’s fingers. He held them in his for a few silent moments, then…he closed his hand around his. Warm, secure—it was everything Prompto wanted.
Perhaps he should’ve kissed him.
“Shall we…,” Ignis started. His eyes looked so soft and lidded, completely locked onto Prompto’s own. He rubbed his thumb over the section of Prompto’s glove cut out, slow on his skin. “Shall we try again?”
Yes. But there were opposing thoughts heavy in his mind; and he knew he couldn’t handle anymore close calls today. Or his heart would really burst. “I would,” he admitted truthfully. “But I don’t wanna keep you that long.”
Ignis didn’t let his hand go. He held it long, grip soft, as if not to hurt him. “Then…tomorrow?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “Another lesson?”
There was his heart again, tugging him in the opposite direction of where he should go. But this time, Prompto let it choose willingly. A small smile bloomed on his lips. “Hell yeah.”
It was silent, several strokes past midnight, and the streets of Altissia were deserted.
Ignis watched it all from the sheer curtains enveloping the windows to their hotel room. Perhaps it was the nerves, perhaps he had too many an Ebony today, but he couldn’t get to sleep.
And he wasn’t the only one. Prompto sat on the edge on their hotel room balcony, dangling a leg off the rail. He was watching the full moon’s reflection on the slow moving water, clearly deep in thought.
With care not to wake the others, Ignis slid the glass door open, wheels softly squeaking as he stepped outside. The ambient sounds of the night soon overcame him, and he took a quiet moment to breathe the fresh, salty air in, listening.
Prompto didn’t look back at any of the noises, eyes still trained fully at the water. In the dark, Ignis’s face lifted at the clear sight of his boyfriend. There was a light glint to his hair, a soft glow to his bare skin. He wanted nothing else than to press his mouth onto it.
He took a step forward, ghosting his fingertips on the small of his back as he set himself next to him. “Can’t sleep?”
Ignis saw his lips curl up in a smile at his words, low and tired but still wholly his. Prompto tilted his head towards him, his hair tickling his bare shoulder. “You too, huh?”
“Obviously.” Ignis rested his elbows upon the cemented balusters, rested his chin on his knuckles. He felt at peace, next to him, staring at the reflection of the full moon.
He didn’t say anymore. He didn’t need to—the silence between them was a conversation in itself. One stating the comfort and relaxation that they brought to each other simply by being in each other’s presence.
Prompto took his free hand in his, their warmth pressed together, skin to skin. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered to him, leaning his head on his shoulder. “It’s just like…Lady Lunafreya’s wedding dress.”
Ignis rubbed his thumb over his skin, listening to his soft breathing. Perfect—Prompto was perfect to him. Always had been.
It was a miracle he even felt the the same. When Prompto first asked him why, why he was making so much time for him just to teach him how to dance, his heart was beating in his throat. I’m…quite fond of you, he had admitted. They were in his car together driving home; he was fully prepared for it to be the awkward, last ride shared together with that statement.
He never once thought it would lead him to this moment.
They had their first kiss on his porch that day, when Prompto got sick of him hesitating and pulled him down by the lapels.
He was looking at him now instead of the view, at his long eyelashes and the freckles on his cheeks, at the plushness of his thin lips and the curve of his shoulder. He reached out to brush stray strands of hair away from his face, gaze not once leaving him.
His fingers were a tad bit ticklish; they always made Prompto laugh. “What is it, Iggy?”
Close—they were so, so close. Those blue-violet eyes were twinkling in the moonlight; it took Ignis’s breath away. “You’re beautiful.”
Redness bloomed in Prompto’s cheeks, and he head-butted his boyfriend in embarrassment.
“It’s the truth.” Ignis wrapped a bare arm around him, holding him close and secure. “You’re always stunning to me.”
“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me falling off the balcony,” Prompto shook his head, not buying it. But he still returned the hug, face pink, pressing himself close to his body warmth.
“That, too.”
He slid his legs back down to the ground soon after, thankfully. They already had a fair number of falls shared between them, all from the eleventh training room.
Ah; the dances. Holding Prompto close against him now brought back those memories, those months they’ve spent making time for each other to speak with their moves instead of their words. Even after they departed Insomnia and it fell to rubble, holding each other in slow sways was always their comfort.
And now, they were in Altissia. Their goal when they started. The wedding was far out of reach, but who says they couldn’t fulfill what they wanted to, here and now?
Prompto was thinking the same thing. He lifted his head from Ignis’s chest and pecked a small kiss on his lips. “You want to dance?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
He set his hand on Prompto’s shoulder, feeling his own settle on his waist. Waltzing, like old times. Even though they were in their pyjamas and the salty wind was blowing their hair everywhere, Ignis loved this moment. Loved him.
They were closer than they ever practised; their foreheads were touching, lips ghosting each others. Prompto’s second hand slid down his side, resting it on the small of his back and pulling him as near as he could. They swayed against each other, nothing grandiose; Ignis couldn’t take his eyes off him.
“No music for now, huh?” Prompto whispered against his chest, amused. “Like that one time your phone died.”
He embraced him in a full hug, leaving the set norms of the dance behind. “That was one of my favourite lessons.”
Prompto let a laugh out. “Like there was anything of a lesson about it.”
“Exactly.”
He laughed again, and Ignis moved to plant a kiss on his lips, just like during that lesson—but Prompto ducked. He took hold of one of Ignis’s hands tight as he twisted his arms, dipping him close to the ground. “Y’know,” he said, looking down to Ignis as he held him safe in his grip, “it took me a while to learn that having my hand on your waist wasn’t actually part of the dance. Imagine if the wedding actually happened.”
Ignis could only look up to him, look deep into his eyes and their brilliant colour, at his skin and his lips and everything else. “You would’ve asked me, right?”
“Nerd,” Prompto snorted. There passed a moment where he only peered down at him, and Ignis felt the prickle of embarrassment, like he felt in this exact situation that first day they spent together.
But this time, after the months and the feelings and the experiences they’ve shared together, Prompto closed the gap.
He kissed him deeply. Ignis brought a hand up to his cheek, holding him close as he could.
The dance ended up being left behind as they straightened and kissed again, Prompto leaning up to feel him fully. He wrapped his arms around Ignis’s neck, and Ignis’s around his waist, pressing their bodies and mouths tight against each other on this silent, Altissian night.
He soon felt the edge of the cemented railing touch against the back of Prompto’s thigh, felt him scoot up to sit on it. And even though it pained him greatly, Ignis had to pull away. “You’ll fall—”
“I fell for you, yeah,” Prompto adjusted his seat so he was more secure, arms never once leaving Ignis’s neck. “C’mon, kiss me.”
Prompto pulled him close again, shutting his eyes as he leaned into his lips. Ignis peppered kisses on his lips—all kinds of kisses. Soft, gentle ones, open-mouthed ones, wet ones.
Out here on an open balcony completely in view from countless streets, he should’ve been embarrassed. But his mind was only on one thing; on someone whose hands were now running through his hair, on someone who loved him back as much as he loved him.
“It’s late,” Ignis whispered to him, face flushed, as Prompto leant down to peck kisses on his neck. “We should get some rest.”
It didn’t stop him, as he’d expected. It only made him drag his tongue across the sensitive skin of Ignis’s neck. He had to bite back the sound in his throat.
“I love you more than anything,” Ignis breathed out to him, stroking the back of his head. “Anything in all of Eos.”
He could feel Prompto’s smile against his neck. “Should’ve told me sooner,” he mumbled in a light kiss.
“I would have, if I had known you felt the same.”
They returned shortly after, sliding the glass door closed and slipping into bed together. Prompto eased his arms around Ignis, bringing his hands into his, resting his face on his chest as he hugged him.
It was relaxing; Ignis almost fell asleep in his arms, but held on, treasuring the moment and their shallow breaths mingling, treasuring the deep blue of his eyes, the warmth of his skin.
In the end, he was glad that he did.
“I’m with you forever,” Prompto had whispered. “Through anything that’ll happen to us.”