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[unfatalist]

UNDER CONSTRUCTION

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[unfatalist]

...Helped. With that.

[You can almost see the little hamster wheels whirling in Ignis's steel-trap mind. 1 + 2 + 2 + 1 = ...]

...With Noctis, you mean.

[WELL WELL WELL.]

Did he ask you to?

[photoshooter]

[WHOOPS, dropped the cloth.]

Yeah, of course!

[Back of his neck burning red, he picks the cloth up and goes to wash it. Because now it's dirty, and we just. Can't have that!]

I wouldn't have just--you know me, you know I wouldn't!

[unfatalist]

[HOW TERRIBLY CLUMSY OF HIM.]

I do know you. Actually, knowing you is part of the reason why I asked.

[He carefully doesn't look at Prompto as he elaborates, though whether that's for Prompto's benefit or his own is anyone's guess.]

If you'd found out what was wrong, and discovered the, ah. Means of addressing it, shall we say. I could certainly believe that you would do it without Noct's asking you to — if you thought it would save his life.

[photoshooter]

I-it's not like I went around kissing anyone else. Noct's the one who knew what to do.

[He's washing the cloth the way he'd wash a dish. It's working about as well as one'd expect. Also, he's dyiNg.]

Anyway, I didn't want to, like, sneak around behind your back. It helped, so. Yeah.

[unfatalist]

Mm. I appreciate your candor. And I admit, were it just about anyone else, I would likely be...considerably miffed, even if it had ultimately been for Noct's own good.

[He finds a spoon and pushes the pasta lightly in a circle, keeping it from sticking as it boils.]

You, however, are something of an exception, and I find I...hm. I suppose you could say I object to the notion considerably less than I would otherwise.

[photoshooter]

Oh. [He breathes out long, one hand braced on the sink, and then rinses the poor dishcloth and wrings it out.] Phew. Okay. ...I was pretty sure you wouldn't kill me, but you can never be sure about these things, right? Haha.

[He hangs the cloth up and goes to get the salt. And a colander.]

Don't worry, I promise I won't do it again.

[unfatalist]

Well, I couldn't very well kill you while you were expecting it, now, could I? I would have to lull you into a false sense of security first.

[I G N I S  S C I E N T I A]

Coincidentally, would you mind bringing me over that exceedingly large and sharp butcher's cleaver from over there?

[photoshooter]

[:( :( :(]

I guess there are worse reasons to get beheaded...

[Gigantically morose, Prompto sighs and brings over the cleaver.]

Tell Sparky... his papa loves him...

[unfatalist]

...Prompto, I'm making pasta. Evidently my deadpan needs to be a touch more lively.

[But he'll still take the cleaver and set it aside, offering up a hint of a smile.]

D'you really think I'd hurt you for something you did for Noct's benefit?

[photoshooter]

[Prompto peeks up at him with one eye open, then shrugs and keeps his hands behind his back, eyes comically shut against his IMMINENT EXECUTION.]

Iiiiii dunno. ...He did tell me to use tongue.

[unfatalist]

[...........................................]

He what.

[photoshooter]

[Oh, okay. Prompto holds his hands up, eyes open wide once more.]

I didn't do it! I didn't let him, either!

[unfatalist]

Oh, no, that wasn't directed at you. That was directed entirely at him, in his absence.

[evidently he and noctis also are going to need to have a Talk]

Let me guess. Regular kisses weren't working well enough?

[photoshooter]

I dunno, I think it worked fine. The ice shard definitely melted with them, anyway. I-I think he was just teasing me. Maybe.

[Sorta hard to tell with Noct's emotions all messed up.]

[unfatalist]

...Ah. You were the one able to get it out of him, then.

[He glances down at the pasta, poking at it almost sheepishly.]

I managed to hold it at bay, but not rid him of it outright.

[photoshooter]

Oh, Iggy, I don't think...

[Prompto twists at his fingers in front of him, struggling to word it.]

I mean, I don't know for sure. If this was a fairy tale thing, it's not a story I know. But I kinda figured, it... it was gonna take all the people who love him to fix it.

[Still pink, he drops his gaze.]

The ones who're here, at least.

[unfatalist]

...Oh.

[Wise words from Prompto Argentum, their resident expert on fairy tale things. He makes a good point, too — that's an interpretation of what happened that Ignis legitimately hadn't thought of, being too hung up on the one particular that he hadn't been able to do it all by himself.]

In short, none of us alone could have...?

[photoshooter]

[Prompto looks at him, then nods.]

I wouldn't even have known to try if you hadn't figured it out with him first. If you guys hadn't ever... if you hadn't told him how you felt back when you did and--started flying kites and all, who knows what could've happened to him this time?

[unfatalist]

Perhaps you would've been the one flying kites with him, instead of me.

[It's an almost absentminded remark, but once it escapes him, he doesn't look as though he wishes he could take it back. It simply hangs there in the air, just like that: a thought, to be taken for what it is, and nothing more.]

If things had gone differently?

[photoshooter]

Ignis!

[Somehow, he chokes on fuck all and turns to cough into his hand, which might explain why his face turns red (redder), except that it spreads all the way through his ears.

He remembers how it felt to kiss him, as cold as Noct was, as nervous as he felt--the shape of his face between his hands. Pepperidge Farm remembers.]

C-come on, he doesn't think of me like that! Things would've had to go pretty differently, don't you think?

[unfatalist]

You might be surprised.

[It's not like he's about to kiss and tell, because he is a man of integrity who understands discretion.

Kissing and implying, on the other hand, now that's fair fucking game when he wants to gush a little about bae and has nobody to gush with.]

We talk about you sometimes. When we're kite-flying.

[photoshooter]

[Prompto stares at Ignis, and the hand that's come up to cover the entire lower half of his face does nothing to hide how hotly he's blushing.]

--What?

[Is that normal? Do people normally talk about their good buddies when they're sucking face? Should he be doing that??]

[unfatalist]

It's not altogether unheard-of.

[IT IS WHEN YOU'RE A PERSON WHO STILL DEFINES THIS RELATIONSHIP AS "GOOD BROS"]

We've talked about other people we find attractive, on occasion. Your name tends to come up.

[photoshooter]

[Only two modes of being are left to Prompto: the cottony blankness of incomprehension, and hECKING DYING.

So both his hands are over his cheeks now as he squeaks.]

? --??? Wha, how? Since when?

[unfatalist]

Since when...what? Have I found you attractive?

[He shrugs a little, idly tapping at his chin.]

Well, let's see. How long have we known each other, again? However long we've known each other, minus about two weeks or so.