Work Text:
Prompto doesn't show up for school. Noct supposes it’s not the most concerning thing in the world, but it’s a little weird because he hadn’t sent Noct a single text to stay he’d be staying home, like he always did whenever he missed school. Noct sends him a few texts throughout the day, but gets no replies. School drags on without Prompto there to distract him.
“Where’s Prompto?” Ignis asks when Noct approaches the car alone. Prompto usually walks home, but he always waits around with Noct until Ignis picks him up (not that they ever have to actually wait, because Ignis is always early) to see him off and say hello to Ignis.
“He wasn’t here today,” Noct replies, shrugging and attempting to appear indifferent. “He didn’t text me, though, so it was kinda weird.”
Ignis makes a contemplating hum as the two of them climb into the car. “Perhaps he’s sick and resting,” Ignis suggests. As likely a possibility it may be, Noct wouldn’t mind swinging by Prompto’s to check up on him, but he’s got a meeting to attend as soon as they get back to the Citadel. He resolves for just trying to call Prompto later, and stopping by the next day if necessary.
The meeting is even worse than sitting through school. He’s glad he’s got Ignis there to take notes for him, because he barely pays attention, would probably fall asleep if his mind didn’t keep wandering to Prompto. He knows he probably shouldn’t be so worried; best friends went a day without talking to each other all the time, and he and Prompto were no exception. But Prompto’s, like, his only friend (besides Ignis and Gladio, but they didn’t really count), and Noct’s gotten so used to having to blond around that it’s weird to be without him. Plus, it was unlike Prompto to not even text him, at least.
Noct blinks, tuning back into the conversation. Ignis is writing quickly next to him, pen scratching against the paper softly, and his dad is addressing someone on the other side of the table, and Gladio is standing at attention near the door, eyes wandering. Noct makes an attempt to pay attention. Prompto is probably fine.
He tries calling later, on his way back home, but Prompto doesn’t answer, and Noct doesn’t bother leaving a message. He slumps against the car door, content to nap until they get back to his apartment.
It’s when he’s eating a quick dinner with Ignis that his phone rings. It’s Prompto - Noct can already tell by the specialized ringtone. Ignis gives him a disapproving look for using his phone during dinner, but Noct answers anyway. “Prom, hey, where’ve you been all day?” he asks.
There’s silence for a moment, and just as Noct’s going to ask Prompto if he’s there, Prompto says, “Noct?” He sounds a little far away from the phone.
“Yeah,” Noct says, giving Ignis a confused look, “it’s me. You okay?”
“I’m sorry. They want- I’m supposed to read this,” he says, and Noct notices that his voice is shaking a little. “Prince Noctis,” Prompto starts, and all Noct can think is that Prompto never calls him Prince Noctis. “If you want Prompto Argentum returned to you unharmed, you will leave a case with one million Crowns next to the dumpster behind the Crow’s Nest on Third Street at two a.m. tonight. The money will be left there alone. If those conditions are met, a location will be texted from Argentum’s phone where you can pick him up.”
It all sounds so bizarre, coming from Prompto’s own mouth. Noct’s head is spinning.
“If you do anything other than that, you won’t be seeing Argentum again.”
“What?” Noct says. “Prompto?”
“I’m sorry,” Prompto says again, quickly, like he wants to say more, but he's cut off as the line goes dead.
Noct lowers his phone slowly, staring blankly at the screen flashing Call Ended mockingly at him.
“Noct?” Ignis calls. He’s leaning forward onto the table in concern. “Is everything alright?”
“Prompto’s- someone has Prompto,” Noct tells him, shock clear on his face.
“I beg your pardon?” Ignis blinks at him.
“They want money,” Noct says helplessly. “A million.”
Ignis closes his eyes, takes a deep breath to compose himself, then stands from the table, his own phone already in his hand. “We’re going back to the Citadel,” he says. “I’ll start making calls on the way.”
“If they want money, it's unlikely they'll hurt him, unless we don't meet their demands or do something they don't like,” the Crownsguard leading Noct and Ignis through the Citadel says. “That's usually the case.”
It’s supposed to make Noct feel better, he thinks, but it doesn’t really. Usually the case, she’d said. That meant there was still a chance Prompto could get hurt, or worse, and it makes Noct’s stomach twist.
They come to a room filled with monitors. Noct’s been here a few times before. Gladio and Clarus are already there, talking to Cor, and so is his dad. Regis squeezes his son’s shoulder in a comforting gesture, leaves it resting there when Cor starts asking Noct questions.
He repeats the phone call as best he can, giving as many details as he can remember. He confirms that he had talked to Prompto the night before, and everything had been fine. That means he must’ve been taken on his way to school that morning. Noct’s never walked to school with Prompto from his house, so from there on, he’s not much help. They get Prompto’s address and try to piece together his route. Dozens of technicians scour through piles of security footage from streets Prompto was mostly likely to take.
Then they simply have to wait. Noct paces anxiously, brushing off Ignis and Gladio’s attempts at distracting conversation. After what feels like a lifetime, one of the technicians raises her head to peer over her monitor at them. “Found him,” she announces, and Cor and Clarus and Regis go over to her. Ignis makes Noct hang back for now, as much as he wants to go over, because just because they got a glimpse of Prompto on one camera doesn’t mean they’re done.
It’s another half hour before the technicians are able to piece together bits of footage from different cameras so they can see everything play out at once. Ignis tells Noct he probably shouldn’t look, which is stupid, because of course he’s going to look.
The grainy, desaturated footage shows Prompto strolling along the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, unaware of the ominous black car following behind him for several blocks. There’s no licence plate, nothing to help them identify the car. Eventually it pulls up beside Prompto and two masked men jump out. Prompto puts up a valiant fight, but eventually he’s manhandled into the backseat of the car, and one of the men climb in after him while the other jumps back into the front seat and drives off.
They’re only able to follow the car for a few blocks before it turns into an area with majority of traffic cameras down for maintenance. After that, the car could be anywhere.
Ignis pulls him back to let Cor and the technician do their work, restarting the footage to look for any details that could help. Once he’s seated, Gladio wanders over and pats his shoulder. “Prompto’s a tough kid,” he says. “He’ll be fine ‘til we find him.”
Noct sighs. “I hope so.” He can’t wrap his head around anyone wanting to hurt his best friend, his Prompto. The kid who’s basically sunshine personified, even when the world hurls its worst at him.
The muffled call of a chocobo sounds from his pocket, then, and he hastily digs his phone out. That’s the notification he’d set specifically for when Prompto texts him. There, under all Noct’s texts he’d sent throughout the day, sits an incoming video.
Ignis must’ve noticed the intense frown he’s directing at his phone. “What is it, Noct?” he asks, leaning to peer upside down at the phone gripped tightly in his hands.
“It's a video,” Noct says, “from Prompto’s phone.” His thumb hovers over the play button.
“Maybe you should let them watch it first,” Gladio advises. “Could be anything.”
“I can’t just- not watch it,” Noct insists. He looks up at the two of them, hoping they’ll understand. That’s his best friend. He has to watch this video.
Ignis and Gladio exchange a look, realizing there’s no dissuading Noct. “Fine,” Ignis aquises, “but let’s tell the others first so they can see as well.”
Once informed of the situation, one of the technicians takes Noct’s phone and hooks it up to one of the computers, so they’ll be able to watch the video on a bigger screen. As they hit play, Cor already has someone else tracing where the video came from.
When the video starts, someone’s torso is taking up the entirety of the screen. All they see is a dark jacket as whoever it is presumably adjusts Prompto's phone to get it to remain upright.
“What do you guys even want, anyways?” Noct's a little relieved to hear Prompto's voice, because he sounds fine. But Noct knows first hand that that means nothing when it comes to Prompto, because the blond is frustratingly good at hiding when he's not fine.
The person pauses and then steps away from the phone, revealing one of the masked men from the security footage, mask still in place. He moves off-screen, and Noct lets out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when Prompto comes into view. He's tied to a chair, wrists to the sides of the back of it and ankles to the legs, but as far as they can see, he's unharmed. Outwardly, he doesn't even look like he’s afraid, though Noct can see his fingers tapping rapidly against the wood of the chair, can see his leg give a slight jerk every once in a while, wanting to bounce but restricted by the rope around his ankle. The blond's most common anxious habits are the only things that betray how nervous he truly is with the entire situation.
“Oh, c'mon, kid,” the man is saying from somewhere. “You're the one who read the damn note. You're not that stupid, are you?”
Prompto narrows his eyes, looking just to the left of the camera. “What, money?” he asks. “That's it?”
“Nabbing the prince is near impossible, so you're the next best thing,” the man explains. “If he likes you enough, he'll go running to daddy and beg him to pay us whatever we want to have you back safe and sound.”
Prompto doesn't reply, but his eyes dart to the camera, and his face is hard and unreadable while he stares for a moment before looking away again.
“Plus,” the man continues, “you're a Nif. Not like anyone'll really care if you go missing and never show up again.” The only reaction Prompto has to the comment is a slight frown, but Noct grits his teeth and clenches his fists. He can feel Ignis tense to his left, Gladio vibrating with rage on his right. Of course people would care if Prompto went missing.
They're all standing right there.
The man finally steps back into view. Noct frantically tries to get a look at his hands, make sure he's got nothing he intends to use to hurt Prompto with, but he can't see. “I’m getting a little bored,” he says, checking the position of the camera once more. “Figured you’d maybe wanna talk to your buddy again. Say hi.” He gestures towards the phone, and Prompto eyes it warily.
As the man approaches him, he says, “Stay the hell away from me.”
He's ignored, and the man comes closer, leaning down into Prompto's space. As soon as he does, Prompto rocks up and slams the crown of his head into the guy's face, the legs of the chair scraping against the concrete floor from the force of it. The guy grunts in pain, both hands flinging up to grasp as his nose. He stumbles back, knocking into the table the phone is resting on. It goes tumbling to the floor with a clatter, and then the view is just of the ceiling and the tinny audio is the only that will help them figure out what's happening.
“You little shit,” the man growls, and then there's a thump and Prompto lets out a whoosh of air. “You just made this a hell of a lot harder for yourself.”
Listening this asshole rain blow after blow down on Prompto, knowing the blond is tied defenseless to a chair, is almost enough to make Noct stop watching the video. Everyone gives him a not so subtle glance, and he thinks he hears Ignis murmur his name, but he holds strong, because somehow it’d feel like betraying Prompto to turn away.
Prompto, to his credit, is managing to stay mostly quiet against whatever onslaught he’s suffering through. Noct’s a little glad he isn’t able to see it, but that also means he doesn’t know how bad things are. Then something cracks and Prompto cries out in pain, and Noct’s heart stutters in his chest.
The chair creaks, and then Prompto gives a sharp gasp. “No, wait, wait, don't!” he pleads suddenly, voice rising in panic. “Please don't-”
There's a loud bang and another voice says, “What the fuck are you doing? We need him alive!”
“He is alive. Right, kid?” The legs of the chair thud back against the floor, and someone gets a solid thump to either their chest or their back. Prompto lets out shaky breath. “Relax, I was just roughing him up a little bit.”
“Roughing him up?” the second man questions angrily. “You nearly took his fucking eye out!”
Noct sucks in a breath, does everything in his power to get the mental image of Prompto with bandages over his eye out of his head.
A swish of a jacket. “He fuckin’ head-butted me. What was I supposed to do, let him get away with it? He needed to learn his lesson.” Footsteps approach where the camera is still on the ground, facing the ceiling. The man's mask comes into view as he picks the camera up. After making sure the phone’s still recording, he angles it to show Prompto, slumped in the chair, panting heavily and shaking hard. His head is down, chin to his chest, and a little bit of blood drips past where a curtain of hair hides his face. A knife lays abandoned near his feet, but Noct can't tell if there's any blood on it. The second man is standing behind the chair, arms crossed.
“They won't pay as much for damaged goods,” he says, then gives Prompto a thump on the head and adds, “if they even pay for his pathetic ass at all.”
The first man’s mask takes up the screen again. “Better have that money ready, Prince Noctis,” he taunts mockingly. The video ends abruptly.
Their small group is left in silence for a moment, processing. Then Noctis whirls towards Cor, because he’s the closest Noct will get to the Crownsguard who walked him in earlier. “You said they wouldn’t hurt him!” he seethes.
Cor scrubs a hand down his face. “I understand this is difficult, Your Highness, but we can’t predict what each and every person will and won’t do,” he says as smoothly as he’s able. Noct crosses his arms and looks away. “I’d like to have Argentum back as well, but we-”
He’s interrupted by one of the technicians, who says, “Sir? We got the location of his phone.”
Noct immediately perks up. “You found Prompto? Are we going now?”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Cor says, ignoring the glare Noct sends his way and moving past him towards the door.
Annoyed at being denied permission to go, Noct resumes his pacing. Ignis’ eyes track him as he goes back and forth, and eventually the man is able to coax Noct into stopping and sitting to just wait things out. Noct drops heavily into the chair between him and Gladio with a huff, crossing his arms.
He’s tired of waiting.
Prompto sighs into the empty room, immediately regretting it when it causes the pain in his nose and chest to flare up. He’s sure he’s never been this sore in his life.
He idly tugs at the rope binding his wrists to the chair while his eyes sweep the small room for what must be the millionth time, looking for anything that could give him an advantage or help him escape.
Suddenly, a loud bang sounds from somewhere outside the door, and Prompto jolts, startled. There’s a lot of yelling for a minute or so, and then it gets quiet again. The doorknob turns and watches the door warily, trying to prepare himself for whatever his captors have in store for him now.
He doesn’t expect Cor the Immortal to come strolling in as though it’s nothing.
“Marshal?” Prompto asks, voice a little nasally from his nose injury.
“Found him,” Cor calls out into the hallway. He moves to crouch next to Prompto, already working on his bonds. “You okay, kid?”
Prompto blinks at him. “Yes? What are you doing here?”
Cor pauses where he’s sawing the rope away from Prompto’s right ankle to look up at him with a raised brow. “Rescuing you, but if you’d rather I left…”
“I meant- I meant how did you find me?” Prompto asks.
“Those idiots sent us a video,” Cor explains, moving onto Prompto’s other ankle. “All we had to do was track where the video was sent from.”
“Oh,” Prompto says as Cor moves behind him to free his wrists. He rubs them gently when he’s able, trying to get some circulation back, as he looks up at Cor. “Uh, thanks.”
“Sure,” Cor says, then gives Prompto a once-over. “Can you walk?”
“I think so,” Prompto replies, moving to stand. His legs feel like jelly and when he wobbles a little, Cor is quick to support him. “Sorry,” he says immediately, “my legs are just asleep, I’ll be okay in a second.”
“It’s fine, kid, take your time,” Cor says while Prompto waits out the pins and needles. He takes a tentative step forward, trying to ignore the pain in his ribs. Cor doesn’t move away, just keeps one of Prompto’s arms over his shoulders and stays with the blond’s face. “They have a stretcher waiting for you outside,” he mentions.
“It’s fine,” Prompto protests quickly. “I’m fine, I don’t need a hospital or anything, really.”
Cor sighs. “It wasn’t a question. They’re taking you back to the Citadel and checking you out.” Prompto bites his lip, but doesn’t say anything more on the matter.
The ride back to the Citadel is pretty uneventful. Cor rides in the back of the ambulance with him, asking him questions here and there. He stays by Prompto’s side even when they arrive, ushering Prompto into a room so a doctor can check him over.
For the most part, Prompto is relatively uninjured. His ribs are bruised, but thankfully not broken. The same can’t be said for his nose, still crooked and painful. He’s sitting quietly on the bed, Cor in the chair next to him, waiting for a nurse to come back with a potion or two for his troubles.
“Thank you,” Prompto says, breaking the silence, “for, uh, coming for me.”
Cor lets out a soft huff. “‘Course, kid, what'd you think we were gonna do? Just leave you?”
Prompto snorts. “Yeah, well, you know what I mean.”
Then Cor shifts, looking a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. Beneath that, Prompto can see anger starting to boil. He looks as though he wants to say something, but doesn’t for a minute or so, before, “We couldn’t get in touch with your parents.”
“They work a lot,” Prompto explains, averting his eyes. “It’s okay, I’m okay, so there’s no need to worry them, right?”
“They’re your parents, Prompto. They should’ve been there-” Cor stops, takes a breath, then continues, a little softer, “You were in danger, and they didn’t even know. Something much worse could’ve happened.”
Prompto’s shoulders raise in a tiny shrug. He starts picking at his wristband. “They’re busy,” is all he says.
Cor’s silent for a moment, and then, “When was the last time they were home?”
Prompto frowns, hesitating. “Three months ago,” he mutters eventually.
Cor stares at him in shock. “Astrals, Prompto-”
“But it's okay!” Prompto continues, waving his hands at Cor. “They take care of all the money! I’m used to it, I can take care of myself-” It's the wrong thing to say, maybe, because Cor's face twists in a way Prompto's never seen on the usually stoic man.
“It’s not okay, Prompto,” Cor interrupts. “It really isn't.”
Prompto doesn't say anything else. There's nothing to say, because deep down he knows it's not okay, even if he’s used to it.
They’re still sitting in semi-awkward silence when the nurse comes back in a moment later. She gives him two potions and he sighs at the relief it brings, nose fixed and ribs pain-free.
“Look, kid,” Cor says, standing. “I’m glad you’re okay. This isn’t the best time to be talking about this, but this discussion isn’t over, alright?”
“Yes, sir,” Prompto mutters, frowning and glancing away.
As Cor heads to the door, he adds, “Besides, I’m sure Prince Noctis has been waiting to see you. It okay if I send him in?”
Prompto’s about to give him an enthusiastic yes, but before he can, the door all but slams open and Noct himself bursts into the room, eyes wide and out of breath. Ignis and Gladio are only a step behind him.
“Prompto! Holy shit,” he says, scrambling onto the bed to gather his friend in a hug. Prompto clutches at his shirt, pressing his face into Noct’s shoulder. When he looks back up, Cor is gone, and Gladio and Ignis are on either side of them.
“I’m okay,” Prompto says, but makes no move to detach Noct from himself. “They gave me some potions, I’m fine.”
“Potions for what?” Noct demands.
“Just, like, bruises and stuff,” Prompto tells them. “My nose was broken. Nothing bad.”
Noct sighs and pulls away, sitting cross-legged next to Prompto instead, though he still keeps one of Prompto’s hands firmly in his like the blond’s going to disappear again. “I’m sorry,” he says.
Prompto blinks at him. “What? Why?” he asks. “It wasn’t like it was your fault or anything.”
“But it was my fault,” Noct explains, frowning. “They took you because of me. I get it if you don’t wanna be friends anymore,” he adds softly, and Prompto doesn’t hesitate to pull him back into another hug.
“Of course I still wanna be your friend, you dummy. You’re stuck with me, now,” he says, then laughs quietly when Noct gives a huff of amusement from where his face is buried in Prompto’s neck. “Seriously, though, I don’t blame you or anything, okay?”
“Okay,” Noct says. He pulls back a little, content to just hold Prompto’s hand again, and Prompto smiles at him.
Ignis comes a little closer, placing a hand on Prompto’s shoulder and squeezing gently before moving it up to run through his hair. Prompto leans into the touch, tilting back so the side of his head is against Ignis’ stomach.
Gladio pats him on the thigh. “You did good, kid,” he says, and Prompto beams at the praise. “Glad you made it back in one piece.” He’s grinning, warm and relieved, and Prompto returns it.
“We're driving you to school from now on,” Noct says suddenly.
“Oh, you don't have to go through the trouble...” Prompto protests weakly. He likely says it only because he feels he should, but doesn't give any more of a fight than that.
“It’s absolutely no trouble at all,” Ignis confirms. “We’re not letting something like this happen again.”
Prompto sniffles, smiling at the three of them. “Thanks, guys.”
Noct squeezes his hand, Gladio pats his thigh again, and Ignis just keeps running his fingers through Prompto’s hair.
“C’mon,” Noct says, “you’re staying here tonight. They’re making me, ‘cause it’s a security risk or whatever, so you’re staying with us.”
Prompto grins, any lingering fear being chased away by the thought of spending the night with the three most important people in his life.