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“What up, Noct.” Prompto doesn’t look up from the mac and cheese he’s stirring on the stove. “You want some?”
Noctis just laughs, and it’s the dorkiest little snort laugh. Prompto can hear the sleep still thick in his voice; it comes out all low and raspy.
“Yeah, I want some.”
He turns the kitchen light off, for some reason Prompto does not—wait.
“Are you trying to set the mood? ”
“Yeah?”
“Dude.” Prompto turns around, but it’s right as Noctis is leaning in to kiss his neck, and they bump noses, hard.
“Ow!”
“Son of a—”
And then Prompto’s laughing hard enough that little tears are leaking out of his eyes, or maybe it’s his bruised nose, but then they’re kissing, like really kissing, and he snakes a hand around behind him and turns off the stove without breaking the liplock, because they’re gonna be here for a while.