[Yeah, there goes his spleen or his pancreas or something. Surely he will be dead within the hour, if there's any justice in the world.]
But you are, so--I mean, with Noct. So that's. That.
[That seems to deliver him, like a drowning man fumbling halfway onto shore. At least that much still makes sense in the world. Noctis and Ignis are together, they belong together. Gravity still works. Prompto's hand is pressed so hard over his face, he might be worried the skin will jump off his cheekbones unassisted.]
Whoa. [He laughs dizzily.] That's so massively beyond flattering, I think my insides are gonna fall out.
['Controlled' maybe isn't the best descriptor for what Prompto is, though, as he shakes his head again, roasted face in his hands, and then holds up a finger.]
Seriously, though, what else could I even be, getting complimented like that by objectively the handsomest guy on the entire planet as we know it?
[He pauses, then sticks up a second finger and a third.]
Noct's the most beautiful, and Gladio's the smokin' sexiest. I figured that all out a while ago.
Well, just calling him the sexiest doesn't seem right. Right? I mean, say it in your head while you're picturing Gladio. Is he sexy, or is he smokin' sexy?
[And, lest Ignis not be properly imagining Mr. Amicitia:]
--Backseat of the car, looking at you over his book like he knows you're watching. Picture that Gladio.
Ah...well. I suppose that depends on what the list actually describes. "Available, amenable, and if I were unattached"?
[He pauses a minute, regarding the sink, which is abruptly highly interesting.]
There's a shorter list even than that. One that only you and Gladio are on, actually — the people who might stand a chance of understanding why you could only ever hold second place in my life, however much I might care for you.
[The sudden sting surprises more than hurts him, and Prompto blinks fast. Where did that come from? Of the three of them, it's usually Noct or Gladio--as much as he loves them both--that takes an accidental fly swatter to his feelings. It's so weird that it's Ignis, he can't even source the ouch at first.
Oh. Duh. 'Second place.' That'd hurt coming from anyone, the matter-of-fact confirmation of his place in their world, but it's Ignis, and...
And before he can even start to deflate, he remembers who, in Ignis's life, he'd be second to, and he fills right back up with warm agreement.]
Then I'm glad our kite strings shook out the way they did. You and Noct, I mean, and not any other way around.
[Bouncing lightly on his feet, Prompto scoots past Ignis and sets the butter for the pasta down by his hands.]
You're a first-place guy, Iggy, and you should get to love someone in a first place kind of way. A no-holds-barred, nitro-boosted, supersonic jet-fueled kind of way, with no brakes on! And no worrying about who's promised what part of your heart. That's what I think.
[On his way back to the cupboard, feeling even more deeply affectionate than usual, Prompto lands a quick, friendly smack on Ignis's impeccable posterior.]
You never half-ass anything, so of course you should love Noct with your whole ass, too!
[Honestly, Prompto would've gotten fullnamed here even without the boisterous slap to the ass, but that certainly didn't hurt in terms of provoking it from Ignis. Instinctively, he spins, mostly so that he can protect his posterior by shielding it against the counter, but also a little bit so that he can face Prompto more directly.]
...I do, you know. While those aren't precisely the words I would've chosen, I'll admit, the metaphor is still an apt one.
[A pause. A consideration. And then: ]
Though I suppose the city of Altissia might find them rather on-point.
[Ignis has removed his ass from slappable range, so Prompto play-punches his arm instead, still partway bent and grinning with lols.]
Well, remind me never to motivate you like that against me! I like having all my atoms in the right place and not ripped apart with nuclear spelldaggers.
[He's amused, and the way that he bats at Prompto's punch reflects it, and yet there's something to his reply that is also entirely, significantly serious.]
Against you? Hardly. But if you were in danger? I would find myself very motivated.
[The news isn't new, so that can't be why Prompto blinks, brain tripping over whatever he was thinking of saying. The image is, though. The connection Ignis makes: What I did in Altissia for Noct, I'd do for you.
It swamps him, the enormity of it, the tidal overkill of emotion. Maybe no matter how many times the people who love him say it, Prompto will never stand quite tall enough to see the wave coming. It'll always crash over him with this force, leaving him stunned and entirely soaked in feeling on the shore.
Awash in affection, Prompto ducks his head and bumps Ignis's arm once more, shyer this time because it means so much.]
Yeah, well. Me too. I mean, the other way. I can put nitro boosters on, too.
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But you are, so--I mean, with Noct. So that's. That.
[That seems to deliver him, like a drowning man fumbling halfway onto shore. At least that much still makes sense in the world. Noctis and Ignis are together, they belong together. Gravity still works. Prompto's hand is pressed so hard over his face, he might be worried the skin will jump off his cheekbones unassisted.]
Whoa. [He laughs dizzily.] That's so massively beyond flattering, I think my insides are gonna fall out.
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[...]
Or even pleasant, really. Kindly control your insides, Prompto.
[Is he kidding? Probably. Hopefully.]
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['Controlled' maybe isn't the best descriptor for what Prompto is, though, as he shakes his head again, roasted face in his hands, and then holds up a finger.]
Seriously, though, what else could I even be, getting complimented like that by objectively the handsomest guy on the entire planet as we know it?
[He pauses, then sticks up a second finger and a third.]
Noct's the most beautiful, and Gladio's the smokin' sexiest. I figured that all out a while ago.
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[Ranking himself as the handsomest is a little bit of a stretch, however, and — wait a minute.]
I'm sorry, the smokin' sexiest? Is that a technical term?
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[And, lest Ignis not be properly imagining Mr. Amicitia:]
--Backseat of the car, looking at you over his book like he knows you're watching. Picture that Gladio.
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I can't possibly be watching, I am keeping my eyes on the road ahead of us as proper driver safety would require.
[Translation: oh, he's imagining it, all right.]
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[He pulls back from that meaningful tone, though, and asks innocently:]
So is Gladio on the short list, too?
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[He pauses a minute, regarding the sink, which is abruptly highly interesting.]
There's a shorter list even than that. One that only you and Gladio are on, actually — the people who might stand a chance of understanding why you could only ever hold second place in my life, however much I might care for you.
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Oh. Duh. 'Second place.' That'd hurt coming from anyone, the matter-of-fact confirmation of his place in their world, but it's Ignis, and...
And before he can even start to deflate, he remembers who, in Ignis's life, he'd be second to, and he fills right back up with warm agreement.]
Then I'm glad our kite strings shook out the way they did. You and Noct, I mean, and not any other way around.
[Bouncing lightly on his feet, Prompto scoots past Ignis and sets the butter for the pasta down by his hands.]
You're a first-place guy, Iggy, and you should get to love someone in a first place kind of way. A no-holds-barred, nitro-boosted, supersonic jet-fueled kind of way, with no brakes on! And no worrying about who's promised what part of your heart. That's what I think.
[On his way back to the cupboard, feeling even more deeply affectionate than usual, Prompto lands a quick, friendly smack on Ignis's impeccable posterior.]
You never half-ass anything, so of course you should love Noct with your whole ass, too!
no subject
[Honestly, Prompto would've gotten fullnamed here even without the boisterous slap to the ass, but that certainly didn't hurt in terms of provoking it from Ignis. Instinctively, he spins, mostly so that he can protect his posterior by shielding it against the counter, but also a little bit so that he can face Prompto more directly.]
...I do, you know. While those aren't precisely the words I would've chosen, I'll admit, the metaphor is still an apt one.
[A pause. A consideration. And then: ]
Though I suppose the city of Altissia might find them rather on-point.
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[...
!]
Oh, you meant the other part. For a second, I thought you were saying you took back Altissia with the power of your ass!
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[THANKS, PROMPTO, HE'S BRIGHT RED NOW.]
Why is that the assumption you immediately leapt to?!
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Well, I still don't know how you did it all by yourself like that!
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[The sad thing is he means this in complete seriousness and has no idea how absurdly funny it sounds out of context.]
The rest of it, one thing just...led to another, I suppose.
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Motivated.
[Ignis has removed his ass from slappable range, so Prompto play-punches his arm instead, still partway bent and grinning with lols.]
Well, remind me never to motivate you like that against me! I like having all my atoms in the right place and not ripped apart with nuclear spelldaggers.
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[He's amused, and the way that he bats at Prompto's punch reflects it, and yet there's something to his reply that is also entirely, significantly serious.]
Against you? Hardly. But if you were in danger? I would find myself very motivated.
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It swamps him, the enormity of it, the tidal overkill of emotion. Maybe no matter how many times the people who love him say it, Prompto will never stand quite tall enough to see the wave coming. It'll always crash over him with this force, leaving him stunned and entirely soaked in feeling on the shore.
Awash in affection, Prompto ducks his head and bumps Ignis's arm once more, shyer this time because it means so much.]
Yeah, well. Me too. I mean, the other way. I can put nitro boosters on, too.