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Although hesitant to invite him the first year, not wanting to tread over any traditions Prompto may have, Noctis was quick to yank him into the citadel over the holiday season upon learning that it would likely be spent alone otherwise. Ignis hadn’t been quite as taken aback by the revelation; it wasn’t as if there were much going on in his own home. Still, he did his best to assimilate Prompto into any event Noctis was able to convince him to attend.
That was years ago now, and while Prompto grew accustomed to the way the citadel functioned over the season, he and Ignis’ relationship gradually grew close enough that the discussion of a more intimate celebration came up. The kind of one on one, cozy night in that neither of them ever had before.
The proposal was mutual, so naturally, both of them agreed.
Prompto described his Christmases before. How they petered out from the standard treatment of gifts and family time to an exchange of obligations the morning of, before each member of the unit went their separate ways for the day.
He deserved something that catered to him, and that was exactly what Ignis intended to give.
Food was the easy part. His partner enjoyed sweets, and devoured anything with a kick of spice to it. Garula steak in a Leiden pepper paste. Poached plums in red wine, simple, but traditional.
Tradition. That was something Prompto voiced an interest in ever since he first began attending citadel parties, and Ignis was determined to come up with one that would suit his tastes. Prompto was visual, a creator who could point out the finer details in the citadel décor that no one else noticed, and just as easily turn to appreciated the cheap ugly sweaters he found in department stores.
A man with that strong an eye deserved a tradition that would compliment it. So, for desert he would make the gingerbread he perfected for Noctis over the years, leaving the decorating to be done between the two of them. Prompto would be sure to enjoy it.
Ignis clicked through the last of the itinerary he needed, setting the delivery date for the day they were to get together, to ensure the freshness of the ingredients.
Now he had only but to wait.
-
Two weeks later, Prompto arrived not with a knock but a thud against Ignis’ door. Understandably so. When Ignis checked the doorway monitor to page him in, he saw arms overstuffed with a sizable box and several shopping bags.
Neither of them had much in the way of decorations. Ignis, because he never saw the need to spend on them, with how little time he spent at home. And Prompto, because of his prioritizing bills and food up until recently. Rather than spend wastefully, the latter relied on what his family was willing to spare, or, more accurately, didn't notice had moved out with him.
Case and point, another thud against the door.
Ignis rinsed his hands, wiping loosely on the towel hanging from his oven door and flicking the last of the water in the air as he made for the doorway. Speed was an evident necessity; his partner fell in more than walked, only able to catch himself because Ignis grabbed the box in one arm and pulled him up with the other.
“Thanks, Iggy,” Prompto shouldered himself up, adjusting his hold on the bags and heading for the counter. “You would not believe how heavy this stuff is.”
“What did you end up buying?” Ignis tailed after him with the box, a well worn thing with corners frayed and sides battered. He gestured with his head for Prompto to move to the living area, setting the box on the coffee table. Prompto followed suit with the bags as Ignis pulled the flaps on top loose.
“Everything in the bags. Box has all my old stuff in it.”
Old was the correct word for what Ignis found inside. Two, horrifically tangled strings of lights – that Prompto thankfully seemed to have replaced as he pulled fresh boxes from the bags. And the rest… little crafts made from paper and cotton balls and, astrals have mercy, glitter. No doubt held on to out of sentiment instead of appreciation of the craftsmanship.
“I know there’s not much in there, but it’s not like either of us had anything to work with up until now. Wanna take a look?”
“I already am,” Ignis grew a small, humored smile as he pulled out a crudely glued together paper craft; a reindeer’s head. “When on Eos did you acquire this?”
“Oh man,” Prompto laughed, pale skin reddening upon recognizing the decoration. “I must have made it in grade two, don’t shame the quality! Pretty much all the stuff in there is school projects. The, uh, the family didn’t decorate much.”
“Mine didn’t at all,” Ignis responded, noting the lowered tone in Prompto’s voice, but feeling relieved that neither of them would have to impress in that regard.
“We can toss those,” Prompto shook a light box as Ignis removed the daunting tangle he spotted before. “They barely work anyway.”
“Could you illuminate me as to why you brought them then?”
The quip was caught as easily as it was thrown, Prompto’s laughter returning to raise the mood.
“Just in case the ones from the store are a bust,” he continued to snicker as he took more of the bags’ contents out. Far, far more lights than Ignis knew what to do with. Knick-knacks that looked like their production cost a fraction of what Prompto must have paid for them, and- oh, he must be joking.
“Please tell me it doesn’t sing.”
“It sings six different songs.”
“Do you think the real Ramuh is amused?”
“He hasn’t knocked the power out yet, has he? Aw, Iggy, come on!” Prompto leaned over, failing to keep the horrific statue out of Ignis’ grasp as he snatched it away. Fortune didn’t favor him for long, however, and Ignis’ hand slipped over the very button that cued “Ramuh’s” legs to begin jiggling back and forth as Christmas music played, sung in a distorted baritone.
Absolutely not. Ignoring the cackling that erupted from Prompto, he fumbled for the bottom, opened the power cover, and removed the batteries.
The music stopped, but Prompto didn’t, holding his sides as Ignis was left to unpack the rest of the purchases.
-
Ramuh, battery free Ramuh, oversaw all house decorating, plaster wall and cookie alike.
Ignis wound up taking on the brunt of it once Prompto saw him remove the gingerbread from the oven, unable to resist kissing him when Ignis explained his idea. He helped with planning the house itself out initially, choosing colored lights to line the ceiling and corners of the walls – way more fun than the gold. But the smell of the cookies called him back to the kitchen counter soon after. He took Ramuh with him to observe while he iced cookie sheets together to form the base of a house. Ignis protested at first, insisting they should do the activities together, but relinquished the location of the candies once Prompto threw in some puppy dog eyes.
Thus, Ignis strung lights and Prompto set to work on the significantly smaller house. Inspired by their agreement on color, he focused on adding as much as possible to the lining the icing left behind, adding gummies and trading the colors so the same never showed up twice in a row.
“Very well done, love,” Ignis said, coming around to admire the details Prompto was adding to the roof. It was over abundant, but he made sure to include all the basics such as windows, a door, even a chimney like the houses seen in storybooks. Every inch that could be covered had a candy iced to it, color far more fun than the gingery… gingerbread color.
“You all done?” Prompto asked, looking over the living room and beaming when he saw the progress glowing back at him.
“For the most part, I left plenty for you to do while I finish up dinner.”
“You’re kicking me out of the kitchen,” Prompto held a hand limply to his forehead, mock offense. “I see how it is, leaving your boyfriend to do all the physical labor while you take it easy turning over steaks.”
Ignis didn’t dignify the act beyond a roll of his eyes, but Prompto caught the grin that came after, a tiny smile that Ignis didn’t work to conceal. His favorite kind.
Since Ignis already finished the majority of the light work, Prompto got to decide where the bits and pieces would go. They had no tree – no time between them to find one – but the apartment was already shaping up to be better than anything he was able to do on his own over the past several years.
The progress Ignis made looked amazing on its own, but it’d look so much better if they removed the lights overhead.
So, Prompto did just that, walking to the switches and turning off each of them with a click.
“Prompto.”
Talk about getting the best out of simplicity. The room went from standard lighting to a warm, purplish glow, all the cool colors swallowing the efforts of the reds and yellows to dominate the space, reflecting only in instances between blues, purples and greens.
“I’ll have you know this isn’t optimal for cooking.”
“I know, just give it a sec,” Prompto joined him back in the kitchen area, solely for the purpose of tugging Ignis back to see how he did, and how much better it looked with the rest of the lights off. “Sides, it’ll be easier for me to know how everything else will look in the lighting this way.”
“If you say so.”
Prompto met his eyes as they stood in the living room, and.
Whoa.
Ignis’ expression was put out, not upset by any means, but that wasn’t important. Under the lights, his face came to life, each color kaleidoscoping through his glasses. His hair soaked in the colors, and Prompto thanked himself for picking the blinking lights, colors changing over Ignis’ features over and over. And there was the white of his shirt – perfect choice, perfect – taking in everything like a canvas.
Normally, not that Prompto would ever say it! But normally, Ignis was the antithesis of this. Dark clothes and dark halls made his face stick out almost as much as Prompto’s in the citadel. And the unpersonalized apartment he was in only served to wash him out; blank white walls, only one or two pieces of art to break up the rooms, added more for the benefit of visitors than for any aesthetic pleasure.
In the lights, however, Ignis lost the pallor he grew over the years spent in the citadel. The color was unnatural on him, in the best way.
“Any particular reason you’re staring?” Ignis asked, eyes locking on him.
His Iggy could be so clueless.
Prompto closed the space himself. Stunned Ignis was another favorite of his, always seeming to forget that Prompto enjoyed initiating just as much as he did. It meant that he opened his mouth into each kiss Prompto gave him, each time.
When they broke, Ignis recovered by returning the affection, but only just as Prompto murmured to him.
“We should keep the lights up after the holidays. You look gorgeous.”
Ignis smirked at him, brow arching with pride at the endearment.
“So long as they continue to make you equally bold.”
“I think I can do that,” Prompto kissed him again, feeling himself flush when Ignis pulled him closer. Tempted, Prompto returned the embrace, and let his hands wander, finding belt loops, and trailing into pants pockets.
Bingo.
His fingers slinked in, earning a chuckle from Ignis for his boldness, and more importantly, retrieving the batteries he lost an hour ago.
“We should get back to work,” he suggested, grinning devilishly. “Don't want dinner to burn, right?”
“Tease,” Ignis scoffed, stepping away. “I’ll get to it. I take it you’re enjoying having a quiet evening in, then? I wanted it to be special for us. Something we could do annually.”
“’Course,” Prompto said, kissing him one last time. “Very quiet. Very special.”
Quiet, but not for long.