Chapter Text
✧༺ ⋆❄⋆ ༻✧
“Please, no,” Noctis says groggily when he’s being woken by a gentle tap on his shoulder and handed a cup of hot coffee with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon on the top. “It’s the Winter Solstice. Why do I have to get up, Specs—”
“It’s a quarter past seven, Noct. I’ve already let you sleep for longer than either of us can afford.”
Noctis cracks one eye open, taking in the gloomy ambience of the room. “I think it’s unfair to expect people to function this early during winters,” he points out to Ignis as he pulls himself up in bed.
“That’s why they invented coffee,” Ignis chuckles, pressing the cup into his limp hand. “And I’ve even brewed you one.”
The steam from it swirls and soars, filling the cool air with warmth and serenity and a cosy scent of spice and home. Just the way he likes it. Noctis would’ve blamed Ignis for rubbing off on him and hooking him on caffeine if the fragrance were less evocative when he inhales it and the taste less rousing when he takes his first sip. But the favour has been returned by selling Ignis on video games.
In all the years he’s been sharing close quarters with Ignis he hasn’t given it much thought – the ease with which they navigate each other’s spaces, the familiarity of each other’s quirks and flaws that they’ve developed a natural ability to either assimilate or reconcile – to the point where lines are blurred where one of them ends and the other begins.
For all of the grief Noctis used to give Ignis in his teenage years, as soon as they’ve found their common ground again, the depth of the bond formed almost two decades ago continues to grow with neither of them being seemingly conscious of it. They’re just there in each other’s life like the air in one’s lungs one takes for granted until being robbed of it.
As Noctis raises the cup to his lips, he regards the silent silhouette of Ignis that seems to take up all of the space with his presence. Unbeknownst to him, it always had. “You’re the worst,” he says breathlessly.
But Ignis, ever so perceptive, only snorts. “I hope you change your mind when you have a taste of that little something I’ve baked for the Winter Solstice celebrations.”
“The worst,” Noctis parrots, peeping at Ignis with a smirk. “But I’m not falling in love with you, Specs.”
Ignis laughs as he perches himself on the edge of the bed, one hand coming to rest atop Noctis’s knee under two layers of blankets. “Of course not. That’d be outrageous.” Then wipes a smidge of cream from Noctis’s upper lip with the tip of his thumb, leaving in its stead a trace of something sweeter to remember it by.
Noctis slurps from his cup to hide a smile. “Exactly,” he says under his breath, realising that he broke that promise a long time ago.