Work Text:
Prompto is a tagalong. The magazine wants to make a show of force with their best and brightest while photographing the royal family for the upcoming Founder’s Day issue.
Prompto shoots an eclectic mix of things for the magazine. They’ve all agreed he’s talented but the journalism and fashion departments are currently engaged in a fierce rivalry over which one of them would be better suited to his talents. It would help if Prompto could make a decision but, alas, he’s indecisive. Prompto likes capturing moods and feelings. Sometimes that’s capturing the grandeur of a scenery or the spectacle of an incident but sometimes that’s capturing the soul of a model in a pretty dress. Both make Prompto happy and he doesn’t want to sacrifice one for the other.
Prompto doesn’t have much to do during the shoots today. He mainly watches the more seasoned photographers schmooze with King Regis. King Regis has obviously been photographed a lot and he has a kind smile, a real ‘father of the Nation’ vibe, which translates well onto screen.
Their reclusive Prince Noctis on the other hand?
Frankly the Prince has escaped much press scrutiny since the assassination attempt and recovery twelve years ago. King Regis has assured him a cloistered, protected, private childhood and to make matters worse while Prince Noctis is clearly uncomfortable under all the lights he’s also got a real seriousness that seeps into every photo. He’s reserved. It comes across interesting, sure. He looks mysterious and powerful and all that but he doesn’t seem much approachable and the whole point of the Founder’s Day issue is to celebrate and make cohesive the nation.
Prompto can sense the photographers getting frustrated with the Prince. He frankly seems incapable of relaxing. He can’t for the life of him fake a smile convincingly. Prompto would’ve thought all politicians and nobles could fake a smile for goodness sake but Prince Noctis? It always reads as forced.
The photographers agree to take a break from shooting the Prince. They try, instead, to get some more shoots of King Regis and some important officials who are trying equally hard to soften their image after a decade at war.
Lucis won the war just a few months ago. Prince Noctis now stands to inherit one of the largest kingdoms Eos has ever seen. Niflheim has been absorbed, is being reorganised, and there’s talk that the Oracle of Tenebrae will marry the Prince once Tenebrae has been restored to independence and her brother Prince Ravus crowned as King. Prince Noctis went to war when he was eighteen, when Prompto was struggling through college photography courses, and now at twenty he’s come back to make his public debut as a war hero but a mystery. People just don’t know him very well and that makes a lot of commentators nervous.
Prompto’s always found the royal stuff fascinating. He’s seen photos from a front line guy who snapped some frankly iconic shots of Prince Noctis fighting and that was sheer glory but a little humanity and softness wouldn’t hurt his image now.
Prompto is thinking, Prompto is watching, just trying to stay out of everyone’s way.
Prince Noctis is whispering with two of his very well-dressed retainers out of line of the shoots. No one’s paying him any attention save Prompto. He looks really handsome in his formal garb, all these jewels and silver finery on midnight black like a night sky, but better than that he looks more relaxed.
Prompto watches, just keeps his head down, and fiddles with his personal camera.
The retainers are very handsome too but Noctis has an ease with them. They don’t hesitate to touch him and the Prince doesn’t flinch away from them like he does the hairstylist or the make up crew. The broad, tall, man touches the Prince’s shoulder and must make a joke because Prince Noctis’ face blooms into a laugh that warps his entire expression from regal and distant to young and sweet. The other retainer, the one with the glasses, takes a moment to hush them both even as he grins and straightens the Prince’s finery.
And, just like that, Prompto realises he’s taking photos on his camera.
He barely noticed turning on his camera and adjusting the lens. Only touching the trigger seems to startle him out of his daze.
Prompto can’t stop mind you. He’s committed to the shot now.
The tall retainer makes Prince Noctis laugh again and Prompto’s sure he scores twenty shots from that exchange alone. For ten, blissful, moments Prompto takes what he thinks must be some very beautiful candid shots.
“Excuse me young man.”
Prompto startles.
The Hand of the King, Lord Iren Scientia, is currently glaring a hole through his head. He’s been supervising the exchange between nobility and common folk taking place here today and he does not at all seem impressed. Prompto gulps.
“Camera, now.” He orders.
Prompto knows the shot is tied up in so much red tape he doesn’t have any room to argue. He’ll lose his job, he’ll get sued, frankly he’ll be lucky if no one eats him alive for this trespass. Immediately Prompto goes into ass covering mode but Lord Scientia is not interested in an apology as he scrolls through his photos.
“For some tabloid no doubt,” he grumbles. “Ignis,” he calls to one of the retainers, “come dispose of this. You, out.”
Prompto swallows and stumbles out of the studio.
Oh he’s going to be hearing about this…
Prompto’s talent is the only thing that saves him. The chief editor gives him a reaming in her office for a good hour about how he’s a liability but, luckily, his history of great, cheap, shots save him his job and, mercifully, Lord Scientia didn’t make any threats regarding legal action.
Prompto doesn’t regret his actions necessarily. They were stupid, sure, but he thinks he took some way better shots than anyone else was getting.
Now he needs to get a new camera….
Prompto comes into work the following day ready to move on, incident tucked away, ready to drag himself into some new disaster. He’s got assignments with several crews for various shoots scheduled this afternoon and he’s got photos to edit this morning but he gets a call to his cell when he enters the building.
“Argentum,” his chief editor grunts, “you in the building yet?”
“Just got here, ma’am. Need me?”
“My office, now. Try and look decent.”
Prompto hurries to the elevator and plays with his hair in the mirrored walls beside another secretary who is reapplying her lipstick after what looks to be a sloppy make out.
Prompto isn’t sure what’s going on till he enters the office.
One of the retainers from yesterday, the guy with the glasses, is sitting across from his editor.
Prompto tries not to cuss.
He’s so getting sued.
“Lord Scientia, this is the photographer from yesterday.” His editor introduces. “Prompto Argentum. He’s new.”
“Prompto, pleasure. Ignis Scientia.” The young nobleman replies, shaking Prompto’s weary hand and directing him to join him on the couch. Someone would think this was Ignis’ office given how he holds himself.
“Hi,” Prompto eases his camera bag down as he takes a seat. “I should probably start with an apology, shouldn’t I?”
“Perhaps,” Ignis Scientia agrees, “but that can wait. You took these photos, yes?”
Ignis brings out his phone and flips through the camera roll where he’s obviously downloaded the photos off Prompto’s confiscated memory card.
“Yeah…” Prompto admits tensely.
“They’re very good,” Ignis commends casually. “I was just discussing a formal copyright arrangement with your editor as we don’t have anything in place.”
“I’m not following, Sir?” Prompto glances between Ignis and his tense editor.
“I’ve reviewed the photos from the sessions yesterday and, frankly, these are the best ones of his Highness the Prince. I’d like to request you run these in the issue.” Ignis explains to the pair of them. “Once we’ve reached an agreement regarding their use and ownership, of course, and Mister Argentum you will be compensated for your work, never fear.”
“Considering I acted a little out of line I don’t think I’m eligible for compensation,” Prompto argues gently.
“Your actions were ill advised,” Ignis agrees, “but you’re a photographer and you took good photos. So the crown will pay you accordingly.”
“Um, thanks?” Prompto gawks.
They spend the next twenty minutes hashing out a standard terms of use agreement regarding the photos. An agreement is printed off by a secretary, Ignis reads it thoroughly, corrects a typo, has it reprinted and then finally agrees to sign it on behalf of the crown with Prompto and his editor.
Prompto is kind of mortified but he did good work and, honestly? This is going to be great for his career. He shot the Prince of Lucius and made him look like an approachable human being. Brownie points to Prompto.
Meeting over his editor instructs him to escort Lord Scientia out of the building down the car park.
Ignis is quiet, flicking through his phone like he’s got twenty other appointments he’s late to, until they make it to the car park whereupon he begins chatting amicably with Prompto.
“Do you have a business card, Mister Argentum?” He asks.
“Um, no, sorry Sir.” Prompto admits.
“What’s your number then, if I might ask?” Ignis pressed. “His Majesty, King Regis, found your work particularly interesting. I think he’d like to hire you some time for another shoot.”
Prompto is shitting his pants.
“Y-yeah, sure,” he quickly whips out his cell to read off his phone number to Ignis who checks it twice.
“Have a pleasant day, Mister Argentum,” Ignis salutes lazily as he gets into the most beautiful car Prompto’s ever seen.
Founder’s Day holds everyone’s attention for the next week. It’s the first time old Niflheim is celebrating the holiday as newly minted Lucian citizens and the Crown is working hard to include them. There’s talk of a royal visit but the winning perspective is that, for now, Founders Day should be celebrated by the Lucian royals in old Lucius. Maybe next year?
Prompto is swamped with work for the week. There are fashion events, one of his co-workers at the magazine, Dino, organises several high profile interviews he wants Prompto to shoot for, and the city is so packed with revelry Prompto spends every spare second photographing little scenes and celebrations across Insomnia.
Prompto’s almost forgotten Ignis Scientia by the time things finally start to settle down. His photos are a hit in the magazine, Prompto’s attracting more attention, and he’s done something good for Prince Noctis’ image that’s for sure. He’s happy to tuck the photos away, proud of his instincts, when he gets a call on his cell at his desk.
“Prompto speaking,” he greets, as he does for every unfamiliar number.
“Morning, Mister Argentum,” the other greets, “Ignis Scientia. We meet about two weeks ago? I was hoping you might have a moment?”
“Yeah, of course,” Prompto promises as he turns a notepad around to scribble across during the call. “How can I help you today, Lord Scientia?”
“King Regis has expressed an interest in hiring you for a private shoot at the Citadel.”
Prompto is sweating bullets and scribbles OMG several times on his notepad.
“What kind of shoot is he interested in?” He manages calmly.
“His Majesty would like some professional photos of the royal family, nothing which will enter circulation, but you’ll be compensated handsomely for your work.”
“Sounds good,” Prompto supposes. “I don’t usually run my own photo shoots and if this isn’t for a publication I’m going to have to scrounge together some equipment. How soon does he want to shoot?”
“His schedule won’t allow anything until next Thursday afternoon.” Ignis answers. “We’ve cleared several hours for you. It’ll be an interior shoot, if that helps at all? Please factor in the cost of any equipment into your quote, of course. Will you need assistance to get the equipment set up?”
“Yeah, probably,” Prompto isn’t a private professional and he doesn’t have strong friends. “I can rent a van and bring the lights and stuff but I’ll need one or two people to help me get set up.”
“I’ll lend you a few Crownsguard or Kingsglaive.” Ignis promises. “I’ll text you my email address. From there we can discuss the exact details of the schedule, your quote, ectara.”
“Sounds great,” Prompto promises. “Thanks for this Lord Scientia, I’m very grateful you thought of me.”
“His Majesty liked your photos, I just got your number, that’s all.” Ignis dismisses casually.
“All the same,” Prompto shrugs, still scribbling OMG on his notepad to contain himself.
Over the next few days Prompto arranges the particulars with Ignis. He can’t blow off commitments at his job but he can’t exactly reject an invitation to photograph the royal fucking family. He’d be absolutely bonkers to turn down an occasion like this so he’s honest with his manager and Vyv is very understanding that what’s good for Prompto’s career is likely also good for the magazine.
Vyv helps Prompto rent the necessary lighting rigs and Prompto takes a little out of savings to upgrade his camera equipment for the occasion. Everything seems ready to go until Prompto receives an email from Ignis late one afternoon.
[Mister Argentum,
Your quote is unreasonable given the gravitas of the task at hand. I have attached some information regarding what we paid a previous photographer for a similar occasion. I would ask you to peruse this information and adjust your prices accordingly.
If you have any concerns please feel free to contact me further.
Kind regards,
Ignis Scientia]
Prompto panics for a second that he’s offended the crown until he opens the attachment. The royal family paid their last photographer considerably more than Prompto’s asking to begin with, even with the cost of equipment rental, so Prompto is a little confused. Maybe Ignis misread his quote?
[Lord Scientia,
I am sorry, perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding? I have resent my quote with the amount owing circled. You’ll find this is significantly under your previous costing. If this needs to be adjusted further please let me know. Apologies for any confusion.
Prompto Argentum.]
Prompto is still confused, fretting, when his phone rings.
“Hi Lord Scientia,” Prompto greets.
“Prompto,” Ignis chuckles like he’s just heard the most endearing joke in Eos, “I’m prodding you to charge us more. You’re underselling yourself, my friend.”
“Huh? Oh!” Prompto flushes scarlet. “Oh but—I couldn’t. I don’t have many credits, Lord Scientia. Honestly I’d feel like I was pulling your leg if I charged you more. Seriously, it’s fine, I don’t want to be overzealous.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ignis snorts. “I’m not giving you pennies for photographing the royal family. You’re getting charged appropriately. Here’s what’s going to happen, alright? I am going to take what we paid our last photographer and add your equipment rental and I am going to pay you that. Are we in agreement?”
“Lord Scientia I couldn’t possibly—”
“Splendid!” Ignis declares over him. “I’ll have half transferred into your account before the shoot and the other half after the photos are selected. Have a lovely afternoon, Prompto.”
“Lord Scientia—”
He hangs up before Prompto can win the argument.
Honestly, Prompto’s beginning to wonder if it’s possible to win an argument with Ignis.
Prompto isn’t a great driver. He’s a city boy. He uses public transport and the van is awkward. Still he makes it into the citadel without crashing and he is directed into a parking garage where Ignis and a gaggle of Kingsglaive meet him. The Kingsglaive are pretty gruff but Prompto’s gay little brain can’t fathom all this testosterone. Ignis still looks like a male model and the big Glaive with the mohawk hubba-hubba!
“Pleasure to see you, Prompto,” Ignis greets, shaking his hand firmly. “The Glavie here are going to help you get set up. Did you read my notes about royal address?”
“Prince is your Highness, King is your Majesty,” Prompto parrots stiffly. “No hand shaking, more bowing. Yeah, I tried to memorise everything.”
“You’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Ignis assures. “Glaive Bellum, you’re going to the secondary sitting room on the fourteenth floor. Please see Mister Argentum and his equipment get there in one piece.”
“Yes Sir,” the Glaive and his team straighten into stern stances.
“You’ve got about forty minutes,” Ignis tells Prompto, “try to be ready on time. You only have a few hours and his Majesty has other appointments.”
“Yes, right,” Prompto swallows.
The ‘secondary sitting room’ is beautiful and Prompto can see a greenhouse out one of the windows overlooking the interior courtyards of the Citadel. The Glaive, while being a little surly, are very happy to help Prompto unpack his equipment and set up the heavy lights. He can’t thank them enough and they seem a little bemused by his gratitude.
“Seriously, Sir, it’s fine.” Glaive Bellum assures. “We’re paid for shit like this.”
“Right,” Prompto laughs weakly. “Still, thanks.”
“No problem.”
Prompto’s not exactly sure how formal the King wants to be or how grand so he tries to give himself a few options that will allow for easy adjustment. Swallowing his nerve he fiddles with his camera and makes sure he’s got an extra battery pack for it and his laptop.
King Regis arrives a few moments later, flanked by Crownsguard who fall back into the shadows of the room. He looks very noble, very proper, but he also looks very kind still. Prompto hopes that’s not a publicity thing. He’s always hoped the King is nice.
“Your Majesty,” Prompto bows.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Argentum,” King Regis greets. “Shall we sit a moment? My legs don’t allow me to stand very long at the best of times.”
“Of course, your Majesty,” Prompto hurries out of the way of the couch.
“What is your first name, lad?” King Regis beckons him to come sit down. “May I use your birth name?”
“Prompto, Majesty, and, yes, that’s perfect.” Prompto promises as he takes a seat. “I just wanted to check something, if it’s okay, Ignis didn’t really give me many specifics about what you’d like?”
“These photos aren’t for circulation,” King Regis reiterates. “These are for me. I’m getting older and Noctis is getting bigger and, well, we’ve had plenty of portraits and photos but I would like just one where my son looks like himself.”
“I don’t follow, Majesty?”
“Noctis doesn’t photograph very well.” King Regis sighs. “I think he gets nervous. Your candid shots were so lovely because you captured my son as he is with his family, when he’s relaxed, and I’d love a photo of the two of us where Noctis is actually smiling.”
“I’m flattered you liked it Majesty,” Prompto flushes. “I’ll do my best not to let you down.”
“He won’t make it easy,” King Regis snorts at once sympathetic and conspiratorial, “just do your best.”
Prompto smiles.
He’s about to ask something, probably something silly, when the doors fly open.
“Sorry, I’m late, I know, sorry.” Prince Noctis hurries in.
“It’s alright.” King Regis assures. “Prompto and I were just discussing specifics, weren’t we?”
“Yes Majesty,” Prompto grins, hurrying to his feet to bow for Prince Noctis. “Nice to meet you, Highness.”
“You’re the guy who took all the crazy candid shots, right?”
“Yes, sorry about that Highness,” Prompto ducks his head down. “I shouldn’t have done that without permission.”
“You saved me an absolute nightmare,” Prince Noctis wheezes gratefully. “It was kind of creepy but I hate re-shoots so it’s a blessing.”
“I’m glad,” Prompto relaxes a touch.
“So who’s this for?” Prince Noctis supposes, glancing to the King.
“Just for me,” King Regis grins fondly.
“Dad, seriously?” Noctis bemoans.
“I’m getting old,” King Regis tuts from the couch, “humour me.”
“Ugh, fine,” Noctis sighs dramatically. “Do I have to smile?”
“Yes,” King Regis presses.
“Is the couch alright, Majesty?” Prompto asks. “If your leg hurts it might be better to let you sit.”
“I think that’s for the best, Prompto,” King Regis agrees. “Sit Noctis.”
Prompto suspects Prince Noctis is going to be the biggest obstacle to their mission but he’s determined to get the King a good photo so he sets up his camera on the tripod, readies his hand, and smiles.
“I’m not going to ask you to say cheese,” he begins with a grin, “I don’t think anyone really does that anymore.”
“Six, I hope not,” Noctis snorts.
“Have you always hated cameras, Highness?” Prompto asks, turning off the flash and lowering the shutter volume.
“I’m not good at feeling things on cue. Even if they’re fake.” Prince Noctis shrugs.
“He’s like his mother,” King Regis shuffles into a better position, “he feels everything with a superhuman intensity but never at the right time.”
Prince Noctis snorts but obviously doesn’t want the point elaborated on.
“These are private though,” Prompto assures. “No one is legally allowed to see these unless you want them too. Just you and your Dad. Nothing to be tense about.”
“I guess,” Prince Noctis permits.
“Okay, stupid question,” Prompto attempts another tangent. “Majesty, was he a cute kid? I bet he was a cute kid.”
“He was somewhere between mischievous and surly.” King Regis chuckles knowingly and even Prince Noctis has to join in the snorting at that one.
Snap, snap.
The shutter is basically mute and Prompto’s not looking into the view finder so Prince Noctis doesn’t even seem to realise he’s taken a photo.
“I was a pretty tame kid,” Prompto smiles along with them, “I didn’t have anyone to get in trouble with, honestly. What kind mischief are we talking here?”
“Sneaking out with Ignis—”
“Ignis?” Prompto gawks.
“—Climbing into the rafters in the training arena, writing insults to his tutors in old Lucian—”
Prompto is grinning and audibly snorting and Prince Noctis’ face is a flurry of gentle, amused, emotions.
Snap, snap, snap, snap.
“—I don’t think he’s ever eaten a vegetable in his life—”
“I have!” Noctis laughs. “You and Ignis have conspired to poison me!”
Snap, snap, snap.
“Ignis doesn’t strike me as a co-conspirator in Princely mischief,” Prompto laughs, “are we really talking the same Ignis here?”
“He’s a very good young man,” King Regis clarifies, “but he would walk into the mouth of Hell for Noctis’ amusement.”
“And he would scold me every second he was there,” Noctis counters. “I’d get twenty text messages about awful weather and bad infrastructure and how I better be doing my college assignments and—”
Snap, snap, snap.
“You have those boys wrapped around your little finger,” King Regis tuts.
“You’re just as bad,” Noctis grins.
King Regis looks mock scandalised. “What does that mean exactly, young sir?”
“You know what that means.” Noctis maintains his expression only as long as he’s able before they both collapse into sharing a knowing smile.
Snap, snap, snap, snap.
“I won’t press,” Prompto laughs gently. “You both must’ve had busy days. Do you get to talk much in between all your appointments?”
“Not much, honestly.” Noctis admits. “He won’t learn how to use a cellphone.”
“I know how to use a cellphone!” King Regis insists.
“You’re just awful at it,” Noctis laughs.
Snap, snap, snap.
“In my day people talked to each other.” King Regis looks to Prompto for some support.
“In your day people had carrier pigeons.”
“Oh! You awful boy!” King Regis leans across to swat Noctis’ arm but they’re both grinning.
Snap, snap, snap.
“So are we going to take these photos?” Prince Noctis grins, the pair of them glancing to Prompto with warm eyes.
Snap, snap.
“Hmm, I think we’ve gotten some good ones already,” Prompto reveals.
Prince Noctis’ whole face shifts from relaxed to startled and King Regis starts laughing in earnest.
“Would you like to have a look, Majesty?” Prompto unfastens his camera from the tripod. “I think we got some good ones.”
“Please, please, let’s see.” King Regis beckons.
“You—I—” Prince Noctis fumbles. “Is that allowed?”
“Why Prompto,” King Regis chuckles, scrolling through the camera roll with a few helpful nudges from the photographer. “Some of these are wonderful. He’s actually smiling.”
“I’m sorry, Highness,” Prompto glances across the couch. “I just wanted you to relax and not worry.”
Noctis flushes, obviously a little embarrassed at getting caught so easily, but doesn’t complain. King Regis is delighted by the photos, tutting and grinning, and Prompto tries to ask;
“Are there any you want me to delete? I’ll just send you the good ones.”
“They’re all good,” King Regis insists. “I want every single one.”
“Maybe not that one,” Prompto laughs, taking them back a photo. “You’re blinking.”
“Yes, but Noctis is not,” King Regis maintains.
“True, true,” Prompto relents. “Okay, I’ll send you all of them.”
“We’ve finished ahead of schedule.” King Regis glances at his watch. “Ignis will be delighted.”
“Shall I let you get back to it Majesty?”
“No, nope,” Noctis declares suddenly, “you should come have dinner with me. I need details on your witchcraft.”
“Oh Highness, I couldn’t—”
“You have like another two hours on the schedule,” Noctis argues. “You’ve got time.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to dine with you,” King Regis suggests to his son.
“Dad,” Noctis grunts, as if the King is being ridiculous. “Prompto, please?”
“I—Uh, sure, Highness.” Prompto relents. “I am starving after—”
“After all that deception?” The Prince snorts, but it seems to be a joke so Prompto grins.
“Alright gentlemen,” King Regis eases up onto his feet with the Prince’s help. “I’m going to return to slaving away. You two have a pleasant dinner.”
“Thanks Dad,” Noctis grunts over Prompto’s bow.
And then, just like that, they’re alone give or take a few Crownsguard.
“You need help getting packed up?” Noctis supposes.
“Yeah,” Prompto nods. “The Glaive helped me set up.”
“We’ll make sure we leave enough time for that then,” Noctis decides. “Come on, we’ll go to the upper kitchens.”
“You have a lot of kitchens,” Prompto jokes, trailing after the Prince with his camera tucked away in the bag over his shoulder.
“Hmm, Ignis needed his own.” Noctis reveals. “He kept getting into turf wars with the head chef here at the Citadel. They were fighting over mix masters and fry pans. The sous chefs were divided. I was worried they were going to start a civil war so we confiscated the upper kitchens.”
Prompto isn’t sure if he should but he can’t help laughing.
“The more I hear about him the more interesting Ignis sounds,” he admits.
“He and Gladio keep me busy alright,” Noctis agrees. “Though they’d argue it’s my fault but they’re liars and scoundrels.”
“Gladio?” Prompto asks.
“Gladiolus Amicitia, my Shield,” Noctis explains. “He was the other retainer in your photos. You got his good side too.”
“He has a very large good side. Must be the muscle.”
Noctis laughs and pulls Prompto into the kitchens which, frankly, smell like heaven.
“Oh my god, what is that?”
“Oh, Prompto,” Ignis turns from the stove. “Are you joining us tonight?”
“I guess so,” Prompto shrugs. “His Highness insisted upon it. I didn’t imagine cooking was part of your duties, Ignis?”
“Noctis got accustomed to my cooking when he lived in the city as a young man. Now he prefers my meals over those of the palace chef.” Ignis explains, looking discernibly smug at that.
“Iggy likes to cook, or so he tells me,” Noctis shrugs.
“Did you get some photos Prompto? Or did Noctis waylay your progress?”
“He’s a witch, Iggy,” Noctis declares before Prompto can explain. “He tricked me into smiling.”
“Good man,” Ignis salutes Prompto. “How’d you manage that?”
“I just didn’t tell him I was shooting.” Prompto shrugs.
“Ha!” Ignis chuckles. “Well then, for your trickery, you’ve earnt some dinner. Please, sit. I always make several portions.”
“Thank you,” Prompto surrenders into a seat around the granite counter with Noctis at his side.
“Do you want company, Noctis?” Ignis asks over his shoulder. “Or is this a private dinner date?”
“Well….” Noctis seems to consider it for a moment. “He is pretty cute…”
Prompto flushes hard and fast, laughing stupidly through his nose before his hand can flash up to cover his mouth.
“That sounds like a yes to me,” Ignis snorts.
“Seriously though, Prompto,” Noctis slouches into a seat and swivels back to face him, “if you’re not that way inclined, no offence taken, but if you are I wouldn’t mind a private interview?”
“You ask all pretty blondes to dinner?” Prompto twitters, rubbing his neck sheepishly, still maintaining the air of playfulness.
“Just the ones who can trick me into smiling,” Noctis smirks, disarmingly charming.
Prompto flushes hot again.
“He’s certainly very good at that thus far,” Ignis nods.
“I mean…” Prompto relents. “I’d love a private dinner, if the offer stands?”
“Good, it's decided,” Noctis nods. “Ignis can--?”
“I’ll dish up and get out of your hair,” Ignis assures. “If you need any tips for wrangling his royal Highness, Prompto, you have my cell number.”
“I think I’ll need it,” Prompto grins, leaning forward in his seat before Noctis can protest.
“You—” Noctis catches himself and relents to laughing. “I have this funny feeling you’re going to fit right in, Prompto.”
“Geeze, Highness,” Prompto teases, “buy a guy a meal before you start planning the honeymoon.”
“What’re your thoughts on dogs?” Noctis grins widely, never missing a beat.
“When we move into our couple’s condo in Cape Caem we’ve got to have at least three,” Prompto grins back, just as wide. “A Labrador, a husky and a toy poodle I can, like, dress up.”
“Give me a male heir and you can have a twin pram for the poodle and the baby.” Noctis agrees.
Prompto can’t help it, he laughs.
“Ahem,” Ignis tuts, placing down their plates. “If you plan your wholes lives over dinner, be sure to make me some notes, yes?”
“Of course, Ignis,” Noctis promises. “Now scram.”