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Noctis blinks into consciousness, groaning and turning over when the bright morning light hits his face. He reaches over on instinct, but the spot beside him is empty. Fists clench into warm, downy pillows; and Noctis sighs. He rubs his face into the pillow, and his stomach voices its displeasure.
As if on cue, there’s a whoosh into the room, and Noctis bolts up, peering through incredible bedhead at the love of his life.
Ignis doesn’t know that he’s the love of Noct’s life, of course. Noctis is twenty and terribly, terribly awkward. He doesn’t know how to voice how much Ignis means to him, and he’s afraid of putting his chamberlain into a compromising position. Noctis wants Ignis to want him in return out of free will, not because Ignis is on his dad’s payroll and not because he already spends nearly every waking hour with Noctis anyway.
“Good morning, Noct,” Ignis breathes, smiling softly.
“Hey Specs,” Noctis says. I love you dies on his lips as he licks them.
Ignis reaches out his hand and Noctis inhales, taking it. He allows himself to be pulled to Ignis’ tall, lean body. He clutches to his frame like it’s a lifeline, and to his delight, Ignis returns the hug. “Did you sleep well?”
“Meh,” Noctis shrugs. He never sleeps particularly well —he's haunted by visions he can’t understand, or nightmares of the Niff attack from his youth; or, his least favorite of all, bad dreams of Ignis being permanently removed from his life before he gets the balls to actually do anything about his longtime crush. But he passes out for at least ten hours at a time, so it’s something.
“I’m sorry,” Ignis sighs, as though it’s a moral failure on his part that Noctis doesn’t rest.
“S’not your fault,” Noctis sniffles into the clean white apron tied across Ignis’ body. “You cooking?”
“Yes, I thought we’d have some stir fry.”
Noctis wrinkles his nose—stir fry always means loads of vegetables, but... “The kind with the sweet sauce, right?” It’s the only way he can make the bell peppers and onions go down.
Ignis rumbles with laughter. “The kind with the sweet sauce.”
“What time is it?”
“Nearly noon.”
“Still morning, then,” Noctis hums in victory, so he can tell Gladiolus that yes, I did wake up in the actual morning, thank you very much.
“Quite,” Ignis murmurs, pulling away. He plants his hands on Noct’s shoulders and gives him a once-over. “Why don’t you shower, Noct, and then we can have lunch? It’s nearly done, just simmering on the stove.”
Noctis is aware he’s hanging on Ignis’ every word, and he desperately hopes that Ignis will pick up on it and kiss him and break the tension—but he doesn’t. “Okay.”
After a shower and a clean set of clothes—and after dumping his overflowing laundry basket into the washer, adding detergent pods, and starting a delicate cycle—Noctis pads into the kitchen and wraps his arms around Ignis’ front pressing his forehead between Ignis’ shoulder blades and inhaling the sharp smell of his cologne.
Ignis smiles at the warmth on his back. “Started laundry, did you? You have my thanks.”
Noctis shakes his head, wrinkling Ignis’ crisp button-up. “It’s my laundry, I can do it.”
“So you can,” Ignis murmurs. He lifts the lid and stirs around the chicken and vegetables, reaching to add the sticky sweet and sour sauce that Noctis likes so much. “There, Noct, nearly ready. Would you get out some bowls and forks for us? There’s rice ready in the rice cooker.”
Noctis unwraps himself and obeys, grabbing dishes and utensils. He scoops rice into the bowls for him and Ignis, and he grabs a can of Ebony from the fridge, with a sugar-free sports drink for himself.
“You really love coffee,” Noctis marvels, eyeing the dozens of cans in the top of his fridge.
“Not nearly as much as I love you.”
The can of Ebony clatters to the floor, and Noctis feels the tops of his ears catch on fire. His face follows suit, and he whips, staring slack-jawed at his retainer. Ignis is tight-lipped, his high cheekbones dusted pink. He closes his eyes, and his chest heaves with a deep inhale.
“My sincerest apologies, Noctis. That was unbecoming, and entirely too--”
Whatever Ignis was going to say gets cut off by Noctis pulling him away from the stove and crashing into his front, squeezing tight. Ignis thuds against the adjacent counter and hugs back, still beside himself with embarrassment.
“Don’t,” Noctis whispers. “Don’t take it back.”
Ignis noses into fluffy black hair, sighing. “Then I won’t.”
“Did you mean it?”
“As accidental as it was, Noct...yes, I meant every word.”
Noctis pulls back to gaze into brilliant green eyes. “How do...” He bites his tongue, frustrated. “I mean there’s lots of types of love. Did you mean it...how did you mean it?”
Ignis swallows hard. “I love you in every way possible, Noctis.”
“No.” The prince shakes his head. “Specs, you gotta spell this out for me. I don’t want to misunderstand. I gotta know if you feel the same as I do.”
Ignis’ eyes open up into saucers at Noct’s words. “The same as you...Highness,” he breathes. “Tell me.”
“You first,” Noctis counters. “Please, you said it first.”
Ignis clears his throat, voice suddenly feeling small and distant. “I love you as your protector, first and foremost. That is my life’s duty, and I will fulfill that duty to my dying breath. Secondly, I love you as a friend. The time we spend together going for walks, or fishing, or when you help me prepare meals...or even when we’re doing nothing at all. I cherish those memories as my most precious.” Ignis sniffs, and Noctis reaches up to brush a rare, stray tear from his face. “But most of all...I love you in every romantic sense of the word, Noctis. I’ve often told myself that I shouldn’t, that it’s not proper, but alas. You render me so very weak. I love you as though we were pledged to one another in marriage.” Ignis closes his eyes and tries to breathe. “Have I spelled it out quite plainly?”
“Yes,” Noctis chokes, as he stands up on his tiptoes and pulls Ignis into his first kiss.
Noctis can’t help but smile into Ignis’ mouth as he straddles his advisor’s trim waist. It’s long past lunch, and Ignis is still in the damn apron, but Noctis can’t seem to let him go long enough for Ignis to hang it up. Ignis’ strong, capable hands are settled on Noct’s waist, thumbing between soft t-shirt and warm skin, and Noct’s nerves are on fire, blood pumping hard and fast with the divine magic that’s deep inside of him. He’s half-hard, and Ignis is too, but the taller man seems content to lavish Noct’s mouth with all the kisses he can stand.
Noctis has been awake for barely two hours, and he’s been more productive today than he’s been in his whole life. He ducks to pepper kisses along Ignis’ jaw, and those long fingers grip harder; and Noctis has never felt so complete.