Work Text:
There’s a reason Noctis spends way more time at his new apartment than the royal Citadel. Several reasons, actually. He doesn’t like being stopped by different dignitaries for overly formal greetings or pestering about council meetings, he doesn’t like having to dress properly just to leave his room, and he hates how long it takes to get food. In his apartment, he’s never more than a minute away from the kitchenette—less, if Ignis is around to bring that food right to him. In the Citadel, he has to take two elevators and several long hallways down, navigate the enormous kitchens, then take the elevator back up to the lobby where he’ll have to switch over to the more secure elevator authorized to go all the way up to personal chambers.
He’s making that switch over in the lobby when a tuft of bright yellow catches his eye—for a split second, he thinks someone’s ridden their chocobo right in through the front doors.
Then he realizes it’s just Prompto, kneeling on the shining floor, scrubbing furiously at the tiles. Dazed, Noctis just sort of stands there, waiting for Prompto to get back to his feet and carry on with whatever he was doing—probably visiting Noctis.
Except Prompto stays on all fours and keeps right on scrubbing. If he spilled something, it’s already long gone—the floor looks fine to Noctis. He has no idea where Prompto got the wet rag or the bucket sitting next to him. He’s really putting his back into it—going all out on the nonexistent dirt and putting his sculpted muscles to good use.
When it becomes clear that Prompto’s not going to look up and see him, because Prompto is apparently the ultimate scullery maid with impeccable concentration, Noctis marches over. He grunts, “Hey,” and Prompto startles so badly he almost knocks the bucket over. He squawks like the chocobo Noctis mistook him for, and his head whips up with wide eyes. Noctis asks, “What’re you doing?”
“Wh—I—Noct.”
“Prompto.”
Prompto clutches his free hand against his heart as though to hold it in place. It puts a grin on Noctis’ face. Prompto’s somehow even more adorable when he’s recovering from shock. It takes him a second to sheepishly explain, “Oh, I, uh... I came to see if you wanted to hang out, but I ran into this creepy old lady on the way, and I guess she thought I was a servant, because she put me right to work!”
Noctis snorts. “And you just did it?” A part of him feels guilty for the staff—technically his staff—treating his best friend like that. But it’s also kind of funny. Maybe it’s not so much that Prompto looks like a commoner as Prompto looks like the naïve, cheerful sort of person that can easily be goaded into doing manual labour for free. If someone tried to trick Noctis into doing their chores, he’d show them some of the skills Gladiolus has been teaching him.
Prompto shrugs helplessly and mumbles, “I didn’t wanna be rude...”
Noctis is definitely grinning. He can’t help it. He will try to make it up to Prompto later. But for that, he’ll need Prompto in the privacy of his old quarters. “Forget it—c’mon up.”
“What, now?”
Noct blinks. “Of course now. You’re here, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but... dude, I’m not finished.” Prompto actually gestures sideways, as though to indicate the unwashed sections of the floor.
“So?”
“So? What if I get in trouble!”
“You don’t even work here!”
“Oh yeah...”
He’s so adorable. Way too loyal. Noctis is definitely going to have to tell Ignis and Gladiolus about this one. Prompto awkwardly hangs the rag over the rim of the bucket and pushes it against the nearest well, then looks both ways before getting up to his feet, as though the other servants are going to burst out of all the exits, admonishing him for abandoning his post. Noctis has to actually grab his hand to speed up the process of a timely exit.
They make it to the elevator. The doors are just closing when Noctis hears a familiar head-of-stuff loudly griping, “Why, that lazy—” But then the doors are closed, and Prompto’s headed to where he really belongs: right in the prince’s chambers.