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They’re spread out on the large picnic table in the backyard, and although there’s still over an hour of daylight left, Prompto’s expertly-hung fairy lights illuminate the small grassy space and the large rock garden behind their suburban two-story. The table is large enough for more than ten people, but the four of them take up the whole thing anyway, with their huge pumpkins, paint, and carving supplies. There are already birds and squirrels perched along the polished black wooden fence, waiting for gooey orange guts and seeds to be left on the grass for a midnight feast.
Ignis sits on his side of the bench, soft purple flannel rolled up to his elbows, fitted jeans secured on his trim waist, polished Oxford boots keeping his feet warm in the cool autumn night. He rolls out a long strip of leather; various sizes of carving tools are there, some belonging to a set and some individual and random. He plucks a thick graphite pencil from the end of the leather roll and taps his chin with the end, staring daggers into the tall, proud pumpkin in front of him.
“Whatcha gonna make this year, Igster?” asks Prompto, leaning into Ignis’ side. Prompto’s got his own little leather roll of knives, though not as extensive as Ignis’ collection. He’d had it before the four of them ever got together; he’s an art college alumni, an honors graduate before he ever joined the prince’s retinue. Prompto’s got a black beanie pressed over his golden strands, long bangs peeking from underneath. He’s wrapped in classic red and black flannel, with black skinny jeans and sneakers that Ignis consistently threatens to toss in the bin. His brilliant blue eyes sparkle, as if he’s just itching to get his hands ooey and gooey with pumpkin guts.
Ignis hums, leaning back against Prompto, feeling warm from the inside out. “Perhaps...no, I did an Ebony cup year before last.”
“That one was so good,” Prompt remembers. He picks up his own pencil to stencil out an outline.
Ignis watches in fascination, shamelessly enjoying watching Prompto’s talented hands pump out actual art. It’s one of the many little things Ignis loves about Prompto—he's a tried and true creative, constantly surprising them with the things his mind and hands can create when he manages to sit down and focus.
Prompto pulls back and tilts his head, surveying his sketch. Ignis inhales at the detail, having no doubt that Prompto can pull it off.
“Oh, it’s a pixelated chocobo.”
“Yeah! I know I did a real one last year, so I thought...maybe retro this time. And...” Prompto’s voice trails as he stencils little squares into 8-bit hearts around the sprite, pulling back once more with a satisfied grin. “Aw yeah.”
“Totes adorbs,” Ignis says, echoing Prompto’s casual diction.
Prompto snorts. “Wait, say that again, I have to record it.” He reaches for his phone, but Ignis stops him.
“Never,” Ignis chuckles, leaning away to his own pumpkin, still considering what to draw.
“Worth a shot,” Prompto says, shrugging. He plucks the largest tool from his roll and stabs into the top of the pumpkin.
Gladiolus sits across from Prompto, just a few simple tools in front of him from the hardware store—nothing expensive like Ignis and Prompto. He’s already started gutting, big scarred hands reaching in and pulling out squelching orange goop, hearty strings, fistfuls of seeds. He’s got the goofiest grin on his face, half-disgusted and half-amused, as he throws the pumpkin’s innards onto the poor grass to the side of the table, away from where he’ll stand up when he’s finished. His pumpkin carving strategy is largely the same every year, with some deviation of a classic Jack O’ Lantern face. His burnt orange flannel shirt is shoved up to his elbows, and his thick forearms are smeared with gunk. He blinks up at his two lovers across from him. “You should do a movie scene, Iggy.”
“A movie scene...” Ignis taps his chin, trying to visualize.
Prompto’s already digging into his pumpkin, tossing guts aside with a large silver scoop he’d had in his leather roll. “Or like, a movie poster,” Prompto grunts, standing up to get down in the bottom, arm all the way in. “Oooooooh, what about It Came from Space Four: Xantharbad’s Revenge?”
Ignis rolls his eyes fondly. “I’ll pass, love.”
“Aw, but the poster is so wicked,” Prompto marvels, proverbial spaceships in his eyes.
Suddenly, a lightbulb flickers to life. “Oh,” Ignis breathes. “Thank you for the suggestions, darlings, but I believe I’ve got it.” Ignis wiggles happily, humming as he selects his largest tool, stabbing into the top of the pumpkin and etching out a circle around the stem.
“Lemme guess, it’s a surprise?” Gladiolus laughs, wiping his hands with about twenty paper towels as he picks up a carving knife. The shield never works off a premeditated outline, just goes with the flow as silly ideas come to him.
“Yes,” Ignis nods. “You’ll see soon enough, don’t fret.” He flicks his eyes up to Noctis, who’s been staring in sleepy silence at the medium-sized white pumpkin in front of him. “Highness?”
“Hm?” Noctis blinks up, peering from under his fishing ball cap, complete with a hook pressed flat around the brim. He’s wearing black and gray flannel and dark jeans, complete with warm wooly socks and black hiking boots. “Sorry, zoned out listening to you all.”
Ignis pops the top of his pumpkin, slotting the knife back into his roll and sliding his scoop out of it. “Have you decided what to paint this year? Or carve?”
Noctis nods. “So, I didn’t show you yet...” He reaches down to the ground to pull some plastic bags out of a larger, single paper bag. He sets the bags on the table and opens them up, showing off his purchases one by one. “I saw this on Pinterest, thought it was cute. I came up with my own. So I’m gonna hollow it out, and just carve a big window. Then I’m gonna make like, a diorama.” He holds up little plastic figures fit for a spooky Halloween village. “So I’ve got some gravestones, moss, a couple of cats, some fishbones. A tree. Oh, and these little tea lights.” He holds up the plastic candles. “Oh, and some white aquarium rocks, just to like hold down the moss. Gonna paint the inside black, with white dots for stars. And a moon I guess.” Noctis smiles all sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, gesturing to the acrylic paints and paintbrushes in the bag alongside the figures and greenery. “So yeah. That was this year’s idea.”
“Bro,” Prompto sighs, making goo-goo eyes at his prince, arms and hands stained orange. “That’s so fuckin’ cute.”
“Utterly adorable,” Ignis breathes, heart swelling with affection for Noct’s take on the pumpkin diorama. “I cannot wait to see the finished product.”
“That’s cute, baby,” Gladiolus agrees, leaning to the side to kiss Noctis on the hat.
Noctis smiles, blushing, lifting his own carving knife. “Yeah. I thought it was cute, too. And different.”
“Different is good,” Prompto nods. “Like a movie scene from It Came from Space Four.”
“Next year,” Ignis quips.
“Oh em gee, really?”
“No.”
“Dammit!”
Once the ground is sufficiently watered with pumpkin guts and seeds, and the newspapers and paper towels tossed in their outside dumpster, the guys carry their pumpkins out of the back gate and around to the front of the house to set them around the door. Noctis had picked up multiple plastic tealights, two for everyone else’s pumpkin and three for his diorama. Prompto’s pixelated chocobo with hearts shines adorably, the happy little bird flapping its wings with a wide-open beak. Noct’s white pumpkin diorama looks like something out of a magazine, illuminated graveyard cats with fishbones and moss, set against a crisp black inside with white stars and a crescent moon. Gladio’s classic triangle eyes and toothy grin are accented with Frankenstein accents stitched scars and bolts, with pointed hair and droopy eyes. The final touch is Ignis’ pumpkin—it's an expert carving of Noctis in fluid motion, practicing his violin, with faces of himself, Gladiolus, and Prompto with heart eyes floating around him, amid wavy lines and music notes streaming out of the instrument in Noct’s hands.
“Now it’s officially fall,” Prompto sighs, slotting his arm around Noctis’ and Ignis’ waists, leaning his head on Noct’s shoulder. Night has fallen, and their fake tealights burn bright inside of their four pumpkins, lighting up the porch. Other autumn decorations and spooky accessories decorate the door and the porch—but the yearly pumpkins are always the crowning glory. Ignis ushers them inside before it gets too cold, and the prince and his boyfriends settle on the couch with hot chocolate, watching themed movies late into the night.