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Playing war was all they were good at.
Noctis cursed quietly as he pressed the gun closer to his body, grip tightening around it as his laboured breathing resounded in the room. It was too dark, way too dark; the only sources of light were the neon lamps adorning the walls and the small LEDs that were part of his vest, swaying with his every move.
He didn’t like this, didn’t like it all – not knowing where the others were made him nervous, to say the least. Now and then, he could hear a muttered curse, someone stubbing their toe on a corner or stumbling into a dark wall. He’d been looking for Ignis for at least ten minutes now, but his team member was nowhere to be found, as elusive as the wind, and he really didn’t want to call out to him in fear of either Gladio or Prompto hearing and finding him first.
Huffing, Noctis pressed his back against the wall, rolling his eyes at the darkness in front of him. This wasn’t fair, not at all. The entire area they’d rented out was simply too large, there was no way he’d be able to find – let alone shoot – anyone in here.
Then there was this other problem as well.
Prompto had started his Crownsguard training a few months prior, and the way he handled a gun made Noctis’ breath catch in his throat, made him appreciate Prompto just a tiny bit more, as if that was even possible. He was just too good at it, aiming and firing at both stationary and moving targets with ease – well, as long as they weren’t alive, but still, it was the thought that counted. And they’d get there eventually; not that Noctis liked thinking about that aspect.
But Prompto’s affinity with firearms also made him incredibly nervous regarding their current game. Playing against Gladio was bad enough in itself. His Shield didn’t care for losing, and neither did he care for letting Noctis win at anything if he had a say in the matter; if he were to just see a glimpse of him in the darkness, Noctis would be done for.
That wasn’t to say that he was bad at the game itself; he’d played laser tag often enough to know his way around, he could handle a gun pretty well and, growing up with Gladio’s training, his competitive streak made him relentless in the regard of hunting down targets. Noctis was probably just overreacting; after all, how could he possibly lose with Ignis on his team?
He tried to calm his erratic heartbeat, peeking out from the wall he was hiding behind, his eyes trying to adjust to the pitch black room. It was still eerily quiet, and he had no idea where any of them were, but surely he would’ve noticed if Ignis had been hit, right? There was no way Ignis had already been disqualified, though, he was sure of that, despite his advisor’s protests when Noctis had first suggested this.
How exactly he’d managed to convince both Ignis and Gladio to join them on their… well, impromptu game session still was beyond him. Maybe it was the puppy eyes he’d pulled on them (that was what he liked to believe, at least), maybe it was just their sense of duty. As long as they took part in this, he didn’t really care all that much. It’d been worth when he’d seen the hopeful glimmer in Prompto’s eyes, the way his cheeks had flushed red and, even if he tried, Noctis couldn’t forget the toothy grin he’d received, how Prompto had slung his arms across his shoulders and pulled him close.
He reeled himself back from where his mind was wandering, trying to track even the tiniest movement in the dark room, which was easier said than done. Gods, he didn’t want Gladio to find him, anyone but the big guy, please. Noctis sucked in a sharp breath, holding it when he heard something – quiet steps on the hard floor, clothes being pressed against the wall, rustling. Slowly, he turned his head to the side, avoiding any sudden movements, watching as a dark shadow blocked out some of the neon lights that were embedded in the wall.
The fingers of his right hand tightened around the trigger of the laser gun, his other hand coming up to press his palm over as many of the LEDs he was sporting as he could; a dead giveaway for sure.
This tiny window of distraction he’d allowed himself seemed to have been a mistake. Shit, just where had the other person gone? He closed his eyes for a split second, shrinking into himself and praying to every single god he could think of that it had been Ignis he’d just seen. And hadn’t the shadow sported a hairstyle similar to Ignis’?
Noctis exhaled through his nose. He couldn’t keep hiding anymore, not when Ignis depended on him, not when he had a job to do. Righting himself, he took one step towards the corner, freezing when the shadow appeared again, this time way closer than before.
He froze in his spot, back still glued to the wall but eyes wildly moving around to spot any kind of escape route. He could make a run for it, hoping that his loud footsteps wouldn’t attract anyone else, and subconsciously – steeling himself for the inevitable – he grabbed the gun with both hands, fingers twitching around it as he started lifting it upwards while inching towards the corner.
That had been his second mistake.
His first had been taking his hand off the lights in his vest, making him visible to anyone passing by. As if his body, which partially covered the LEDs in the wall, wasn’t already enough.
Gasping, he winced as the back of his head collided with the wall, making him see stars for the fraction of a second. “Sorry,” Prompto whispered sheepishly, the barrel of his gun pressed against Noctis’ chest, his free hand pinning both of the prince’s arms to the wall. “But hey, I gotcha.” In the dim light of Noctis’ LEDs, he could see Prompto’s cheerful expression, his face mere centimetres away from his own, warm puffs of breath on his cheek.
Noctis glanced down. How had he not- oh. He frowned, eyes moving upwards again to meet Prompto’s. “Did you take off your vest?” He whispered back, trying to match Prompto’s quiet tone. It only seemed befitting. “That’s cheating, Prom.”
Prompto flashed him another grin, moving as if wanting to pull his hand away to scratch the back of his head but deciding otherwise at the last second. “No, I didn’t take it off. I just covered it, which isn’t against the rules, by the way.” He sounded so proud of himself that Noctis couldn’t help but grin too. “In any case, you should already know that I can’t be beat.” That smug tone again.
The corners of his mouth still lifted upwards, he cocked his head to the side. “Oh yeah? That’s rich coming from you, Mr. No-I-don’t-wanna-play-against-Ignis-I’m-so-gonna-lose-what-if-he-brings-an-actual-knife-?”
His friend snorted, and it seriously was the cutest thing Noctis had ever heard in his entire life. He really hoped his blush wasn’t that visible. “But I don’t see Iggy anywhere, which means I’m the king of the street right now. Of this street, to be exact.”
“Oh, but I know Specs is gonna come and save me. He’s probably already on his way, as we speak,” Noctis teased, shifting a little so he could stare Prompto down, relishing the three centimetres he had on his best friend. At this point there was little else he could do – technically he should try to overpower Prompto, but he was still in the blond’s direct line of fire.
Prompto gasped in what Noctis assumed was supposed to be shock; Prompto really wasn’t the best actor. “You’ve been using me to stall for time, dude? That’s so uncool, waiting like the damsel in distress. What would Gladio think of you?”
He shrugged as best as he could, feeling Prompto tighten his grip around his wrists. “It worked, didn’t it? And honestly, what else am I supposed to do when you’ve got me pinned to the wall? I know my limits, man.”
Maybe he was imaging things, but he could’ve sworn that Prompto’s face was a red as a Lucian tomato when he turned his face away, decidedly not meeting Noctis’ gaze. Well, maybe he could use this distraction to his advantage…
Noctis edged forward, trying his best not to startle Prompto too much as he nuzzled his face into the crook of his best friend’s neck, grinning in delight when Prompto shivered beneath him, trying to suppress his laughter. “Stop, dude, that’s not-“ the blond rasped out, cutting himself off to inhale deeply- “not fair at all, man! Foul play, foul play!” Prompto’s skin was soft and warm against his face as he turned his head back to give Noctis less leeway to use to his advantage.
The tip of Prompto’s nose was almost touching Noctis’ now, their breaths intermingling, and the prince watched in a daze as Prompto’s eyes curtly wandered down before snapping upwards to meet his gaze once again. His cheeks were dusted with pink, and Noctis allowed himself a short-lived grin as he parted his lips to let off another teasing comment, the words dying in his throat, because-
Because Prompto’s soft lips were on his own, and it felt wet and weird and good, and Noctis closed his eyes involuntarily, melting into the blond’s touch, savouring the way his mouth moved against Noctis’. He sighed, angling his head to the side to allow Prompto to deepen their kiss, his hands twitching to cup Prompto’s face before he remembered that they were still trapped in Prompto’s unrelenting grip. Every sound, every touch felt magnified, each of his senses heightened by the darkness that surrounded them
Noctis shifted a little on his feet, mentally willing Prompto to let go, but before he could do anything Prompto was already pulling away, and he chased after the other’s warm mouth with a whine at the loss of contact, his eyes fluttering open.
For a split second, he took in Prompto’s appearance; his tousled hair (how had that become undone?), the pink tinge on his cheeks, the way he was panting for air now and how his eyes seemed glassy and- oh. Fuck. The barrel of the gun was still pressed against his chest. Noctis scowled, ignoring the urge to facepalm; so much for distraction, huh.
But before he could or say anything to convince Prompto (this was treason; Iggy would hunt him down personally; they could just continue their kiss), the blond’s face hardened, and in a swift motion, he pulled the trigger. They both watched as the prince’s vest deactivated. Noctis’ face fell at the sudden betrayal, and when Prompto let go of his wrists, he placed his hands above his heart. “I can’t believe you’ve done this, Prom,” he gasped, staring at his friend (friend?) with wide, unbelieving eyes. “After all we’ve been through…”
Prompto sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, when suddenly Noctis noticed another movement right behind him and a beam of red light landed on Prompto’s black vest, effectively deactivating it as well before the blond could do as much as even try to evade the incoming attack.
Both of them turned around to the newcomer. “My apologies, Highness,” Ignis greeted them, pushing up his glasses with one hand, the other casually holding the laser gun. “It seems that I was too late. But fear not; one threat has already been eliminated, and I’ll make sure to dispose of Gladiolus as well.”
Noctis nodded seriously, willing his blush to go away and flattening his hair, while Prompto whined about some thing or another next to him. “You’d better. I’m counting on you to win this one for us, Specs.”
But Ignis was already gone again, and they both stared at the spot where the man had been just a second ago. “Huh,” Prompto wondered out loud, “that was fast. But still-“ he seemed to catch himself, shaking his head (was he as confused and bedazzled as Noctis?)- “he’s got nothing on the big guy!”
Smirking at him, Noctis raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore his still stuttering and spluttering heart that seemingly wanted to leap out of his chest. He had a game to win, after all. “You willing to bet on that?”
His friend seemed to ponder what he’d just said. “Depends on the prize?” He puckered his lips, barely noticeable in the dark, but Noctis knew him well enough to know what he was doing.
Snorting, he grabbed Prompto’s wrist and started dragging him towards the exit, not wanting to be in the way of Ignis and Gladio. “How about the loser buys the winner food? After this is over?” It was a sensible request, and they’d eaten together often enough that it wouldn’t come across as weird or as if he was… asking Prompto on a date. Was that what he was doing? Gods, he didn’t know anything about dating- but the thought of Prompto and him holding hands, of them kissing (and wasn’t that what dating was?) seemed… it seemed normal, as if that was how things should be. He wondered if Prompto felt the same.
If that was the case, Prompto didn’t let on about any of his feelings; well, despite the blush still covering the majority of his face. But that could easily just be the exhaustion from the game as well. “Yeah, I guess that’s fair,” he complied, squeezing Noctis’ hand. Okay, so maybe he had caught on after all.
Noctis opened his mouth to reply, but a robotic, female voice beat him to it, announcing the end of the game with a curt “Win for Team Bespectacled Lords of the Dark Night”. Scrunching up his nose, Prompto disdainfully stared at the loudspeaker as Noctis nudged him in the side with his elbow. “Guess you’ll be the one buying me food then, Prom.”
“Can’t believe you won with a name as ridiculous as this.” He flailed his arms around as if trying to prove his point, almost smacking Noctis in the face with the back of his hand. Noctis carefully moved out of the way, pushing his hand down in the process and lightly patting Prompto on the shoulder in consolation.
Grinning and manoeuvring them both out of the labyrinthine hallways, he suppressed a very un-princely snort. “And that’s coming from someone in the team named ‘Trigger-happy Abs’, which is probably the most boring name I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”
Prompto threw his arm over his face, groaning into his elbow. “Oh c’mon, Noct, you know it was Gladio’s idea!”
Noctis grabbed his backpack from the locker that belonged to his key card, shrugging off his vest and placing it on the bench together with the gun while waiting for Prompto to do the same. Once the blond was done, he grabbed his hand again, entangling their fingers. “Whatever, let’s just get out of here before Specs or Gladio show up.”
From the corner of his eyes, he could see Prompto gnawing on his lower lip. The same lip that had been pressed against his own lips not too long ago. Quickly, he averted his gaze, staring down at the floor instead, only looking up again when Prompto spoke up. “Shouldn’t we, like, wait for them so they can accompany us? I mean, they are your retainers-slash-guards after all…”
He trailed off, sounding uncertain, so Noctis squeezed his hand in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, dragging him towards the door. “Were they part of the bet?” When Prompto hesitantly shook his head, he continued, “See? And they’ll catch up sooner rather than later, so let’s just enjoy the free time we have, yeah? Besides, we’re adults, what could possibly go wrong?”
That seemed to do the trick well enough. Prompto nodded, following him outside, and together they sauntered down the street, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. It was most likely that members of the Crownsguard were watching them, but for once, Noctis just pretended he didn’t notice them; they were pretty easy to tune out when he had stuff like Prompto’s hand in his to focus on.
Along the way, Prompto pointed out several establishments and cafés that he thought looked cute, gesturing at them with his free hand. From time to time, he nudged Noctis with his shoulder, making him lose balance before retaliating twice as fierce.
Finally, they stopped in front of a small diner, not looking like much on the outside. Holding the glass door open for Prompto, Noctis slipped in behind him, inhaling the air filled with the scent of greasy fast food. Ignis would probably get a heart attack if he saw him here, and Noctis smiled at the thought of his advisor as Prompto secured them a table, settling down at a booth near the end of the diner.
Noctis sat across him, feeling the cheap, red leather beneath his fingers as he begrudgingly let go of Prompto’s hand. Placing his elbows on the table, he rested his chin on his palm, staring at the blond sitting in front of him. Did Prompto know this was a date? Did he even want to be on a date with Noctis? Should he have asked? Should he ask now or would that-
His thought process was rudely interrupted by the waiter standing by their table, tapping his pen against his notepad. Noctis looked up at him, eyes skimming across the nametag reading ‘Luctos’ before landing on the other’s face. Their waiter’s dark blue eyes were half-lidded with boredom, and he ran a hand through his already tousled, light brown hair, sighing. If he had recognized Noctis, he didn’t show it at all; his face remained impassive, lips curling downwards ever so slightly. Freckles adorned the bridge of his nose, and a metal stud in his ear reflected the light that fell in through the half-drawn blinds.
If his features were a little lighter – lighter eyes, lighter hair, lighter skin tone – he’d look an awful lot like Prompto, Noctis noted, jerking back when something kicked his foot beneath the table.
Prompto rolled his eyes at him, grinning playfully while shooting their waiter an apologetic smile. “Dude, we’re waiting for you to order,” he hissed at Noctis, and then, turning to the waiter, “I’m sorry, sir, we just finished our exams today and my friend here-” he meaningfully looked at Noctis, and his heart skipped a beat at the way Prompto had said ‘friend’- “is still a little… out of it, I guess.”
The boy – because he couldn’t be much older than 17 – frowned. “School’s been out for a week now.” He seemed to catch himself, though, because immediately after he said that, a smile replaced the scowl. It looked just a tiny bit forced. “In any case, what would you like, sir?”
Helplessly, he stared at Prompto. “Uh- whatever he’s getting, I guess?” He had no idea what Prompto had ordered.
Their waiter jotted it down, quickly stepping away once he was done.
When he was out of earshot, Prompto allowed himself a snort, hiding half of his face behind his hand. “Buddy, Noct, you know I ordered a salad, right?”
Oh.
Noctis frowned, contemplating if he should call their waiter back to their table and changing his order but deciding against it. “Whatever,” he replied casually, “I’ll just give you my vegetables.”
Prompto took one look at his pained grimace and laughed again, the sound reverberating in Noctis’ chest and filling him with warmth. “So you’re basically giving me your entire dish?” He shook his head, wiping away a few stray tears. “Man, Ignis would kill you for doing this. Or kill me for allowing you to do this; you made your decision, so no backing out now, Noct!”
Noctis cocked his head to one side, eyes fixed on Prompto, who swallowed heavily under the weight of his gaze. “But you’re not Ignis,” he noted, as if that wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. So much for being smooth and eloquent.
“No, I’m not,” the blond agreed, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. He placed his arms on the table, fiddling with his thumbs, and Noctis leaned forwards as well until he could feel Prompto’s hot breath ghost over his face, until he could count every single freckle on his face like he sometimes counted the stars at night.
Testing the water, he took one of Prompto’s hands in both of his own, running his thumb across soft knuckles and unmarred flesh. Prompto’s breath hitched in his throat at the motion, and suddenly Noctis didn’t care that they basically were out in the open, that everyone could see them, that he was the Crown Prince and had an image to uphold. It didn’t matter, none of it did, in this dingy little diner in the middle of nowhere.
He closed the gap between them, one of his hands tangling in the soft hair at the base of Prompto’s neck, the other one still clutching the blond’s hand in a vice-like grip as if it was a lifeline. He pressed his eyes shut, hesitantly, his lips barely brushing Prompto’s, waiting for his friend to… well, respond in some way or another, he supposed.
His hands shook lightly, and it felt like an eternity (couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, though, his mind supplied) before Prompto cupped Noctis’ face with his free hand, running his fingers along his jawline and sighing against his lips before finally, finally sealing them with his own.
Electricity prickled on his skin, running down the veins in his arms and pooling at the tips of his fingers, and Prompto yelped, jumping upwards ever so slightly when the current flowed into his body. Before Noctis could apologize, someone next to their table cleared their throat, shuffling their feet against the tiled floor.
“I’m, like, so not getting paid enough for this,” the boy (Noctis knew he should remember their waiter’s name, but his brain was basically scrambled at this point) sighed, and Noctis drew back enough to see him running his free hand across his face, the other one balancing two plates of salad. “And by the way, I think I saw your, uh… watchdogs or whatever outside, so if you want me to, I could make your salads to go and pretend I didn’t see anything while the two of you just, I don’t know, leave through the back door or something. How’s that sound?”
Both of them stared at the boy as if he’d just grown a second head, their eyes wide. Luctos (Noctis was really grateful for the nametag) shifted on his feet, awkwardly trying to avoid meeting their eyes. “You sure you won’t get in trouble for this?” Noctis asked after a pause, even though he didn’t really know what this entailed.
He shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s actually less stressful for me this way; after all, it’s not every day you meet the Crown Prince, and the paparazzi would be a huge pain in the a- butt if they were to come.” He gave them a lopsided grin, eyes still half lidded. “I swear that I won’t tell anyone.” The brunet looked so earnest that Noctis didn’t have to think for long.
He slapped down a few banknotes, ignoring both his friend’s and their waiter’s indignant sputtering (“Wasn’t I supposed to pay, Noct?” and “Sir, I- that’s way too much, I can’t accept that.”) and grabbed Prompto’s wrist. “Keep the change. And the salads.” Once again he ignored Prompto, swiftly moving over to the backdoor instead as Luctos stared at them, dumbfounded.
Prompto regarded him with a wary look in his eyes. “Won’t we get in trouble for this, Noct?” He asked, rolling his eyes at Noctis’ answer of ‘Only if we get caught.’ “Well, that’s super reassuring, man.”
Despite his protests and bickering, he followed the prince out onto the backstreets, their joined hands loosely swinging between them. “C’mon, Prom,” Noctis nudged him, a small smile gracing his face as he regarded the other. “Where’s your sense of adventure? When did you become Ignis 2.0?”
Being with Prompto like this just… felt right, like they were meant to be (Gladio would probably laugh at him for being sappy, but really, what did Gladio know?). He couldn’t explain it, and neither did he want to think about it too much. He bumped his shoulder against Prompto’s, snickering when the blond shoved him back with a little less force than usual.
He didn’t want to share this with anyone but Prompto, not when he was unsure of what was to come, when they hadn’t really talked about it, about them, yet.
Holding Prompto’s hand, hearing him ramble and babble on and on, watching his face light up now and then when he pointed out a good photographing spot or a cute dog was enough at the moment.
And it seemed that Prompto was enjoying this (their date, Noctis’ treacherous mind supplied) too, squeezing Noctis’ hand from time to time and leaning his head against Noctis’ shoulder, which couldn’t be all that comfortable.
But if Prompto was having fun, then everything else could wait.