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Ignis isn’t surprised to find a mess in Noct’s apartment. He’s come to make sure the prince was still alive and well only to find veritable mountains of garbage piled up at every door many times before.
The prince has been better at keeping clean recently, though, for most likely the same reasons - or reason, rather - that Ignis opens the door to Noct’s apartment to find an admittedly sturdy and sound fort of draping blankets and pillows taking up the entirety of his living room. He blinks at it for a moment, noting the excess of sheets and pillows that Ignis recognizes as the ones from Noct’s bedroom, and resigns himself to a long day of laundry sometime in the near future before moving to the kitchen to put away the groceries he’d bought for Noctis.
This much closer, he can hear the music from the video game Noct has been playing to relax between his duties. There’s also a faint, wet smacking sound from somewhere inside the structure that lets him know that Prompto is over, and he and Noct are getting acquainted, as it were.
“-nis is here,” he hears Prompto’s voice, soft and breathy with quiet laughter from the fort. Noct grumbles something inaudible but decidedly displeased.
A moment later, it’s Prompto who pokes his head out from a break in the blankets, face flushed but clearly not out of shame. His hair is mussed, but Ignis is relieved to find the rest of him fully clothed and relatively unrumpled when pulls himself properly out of the fort. Ignis is privy to many aspects of Noct’s life, but if he could never walk in on his more intimate moments, well, that would be just fine.
“Hey, Iggy,” Prompto says, tentative but cheerful, as he moves to sit on one of the chairs by the kitchen counter. Ignis is accustomed to this, too. Prompto has always taken it upon himself to keep him company when he works in the kitchen, something he’d found equal parts amusing and endearing. And annoying, too, when Prompto accidentally kicks at the counter, as usual, and gives him the same a sheepish look in response to Ignis’ glare.
“Hello, Prompto,” he sighs. “Is it too much to hope you’ve spared a single clean sheet during the construction of your, ah, fort here?”
“Eheh,” Prompto’s nervous laugh is answer enough. “About that.”
“Don’t be a downer, Ignis,” comes Noct’s voice, teasing. He emerges from the tent in a state similar to Prompto, hair a mess but clothes relatively in place, with not so much as a gesture in greeting. At least Prompto was polite about it. “Or are you just upset we didn’t ask you for input on the design?”
“More upset you seem to have lost your manners somewhere while constructing that mess,” he says, evenly. Noct grumbles. “Any reason for the war on clean laundry you’ve decided to wage today, your highness?”
Noctis just shrugs. “Prompto said he’d never built one.”
When Ignis had first met Prompto, he’d been so quick to think of all the negatives that could come from the prince’s friendship with what he’d thought was a wild-looking boy, a hilarious image in hindsight, now that Prompto’s sheepish and blushing before him.
Prompto, though, has only proved again and again that he is and always has been a mix of a good and bad influences on the prince.
A good influence, for being too timid to seek out trouble, but a bad influence because he wouldn’t stop Noctis if the prince set his mind on it.
Good, for challenging Noct’s sheltered assumptions and playing no small role in shaping him into a wiser, more considerate ruler. Bad, for indulging him at every other opportunity.
Good, for letting him feel even an ounce of normalcy under the weight of the crown. Bad, for actively giving him reasons to slack off.
Good, for loving Noct for who he was, entirely and unconditionally.
Bad, because the prince would go to almost any lengths - and bring Ignis to just as many headaches - to spoil him.
To be fair, the last wasn’t entirely his fault.
“I can do the laundry when we take it down,” Prompto starts, voice halting. Ignis realizes belatedly that perhaps his disapproving stare was a tad too harsh. “Since you’re busy and all.”
“I’ve always been cleaning up after Noct’s messes,” Ignis says, making sure his voice is more reassuring than sarcastic. “Believe me when I say this is light work compared to the things I’ve seen, though I’m sure you have at least some idea. I doubt this place has kept clean on Noct’s efforts alone.”
Prompto beams, giving Noctis a playful shove. Noctis shoves him back just hard enough that Prompto’s chair almost tips over and they spend a moment clinging to each other, expressions surprised and vaguely fearful.
Ignis shakes his head at their antics, and lets them believe he doesn’t see them holding hands under the table for the entirety of dinner.
“Wanna take a look inside before you go?” Prompto says, sounding excited as he finishes up the leftovers on Noctis’ plate while Ignis washes the dishes. Another reason he’s a bad influence: he eats Noct’s vegetables.
“While I’m sure it’s a stable and sound structure, I’ll have to pass. If my memory serves me right, blanket forts get quite stuffy if you add enough people, and I’d rather not.”
“You used to make blanket forts, too?” Prompto tilts his head.
“Where d’you think I learned from?” Noctis says, with a fond look in Prompto’s direction. It’s not for long, though, until it changes to a smirk at Ignis’ expense. “As much as he tries to make everyone forget, Ignis was a kid at one point, too. And a cute one, at that. I can show you pictures.”
“Do as you wish, but know that I also have pictures that I’d be happy to show Prompto here.”
Noctis blanches and glares at him, and Ignis just sends him a smirk back, victorious.
“Aw, man,” Prompto laughs. “Now I really want to see these pictures.”
"Maybe someday," Ignis says. "But that depends on Noct."
***
True to Ignis’ word, it gets muggy fast inside the blanket fort.
It hadn’t mattered before when they were making out, but then again, they’d been making out. It was a miracle Prompto was in his head enough to hear Ignis arrive at all.
It’s noticeable now, though. They’re too drowsy to really get back into it after dinner, so they’ve taken to lazing about before they finally give in and go to bed. Prompto is on the floor, back supported against the futon and Noctis is leaning back onto his lap and playing the video game Prompto got him for their month anniversary. It’s almost so hot that it’s unbearable, but Prompto doesn’t want to say anything because he can run his hands through Noct’s hair like this.
Out of all the small things that have changed since Noct has confessed to him, he thinks he likes this easy intimacy the best, even more than the kissing. He doesn’t remember feeling so close to another person, doesn’t remember ever feeling comfortable and safe in someone else’s company to act on his impulses and reach out and touch. He cherishes moments like these, where he and Noct are near each other, close enough to be touching, connected in some small way. It’s familiar and warm, if a little too warm here in this blanket fort.
That’s a memory he’ll cherish, too, giggling and pulling sheets from the bed and the linen closet before Ignis could show up and scold them for it like a couple of kids up to mischief before their parents came home. Noctis looked eager to show off the whole time they were putting the thing together between laughs, and while it sometimes drifted into looking so smug that Prompto felt he had to pinch him to put him in check, he couldn’t deny it was a good look on Noct. Good enough that when they’d finally crawled into their masterpiece, elegantly named Fort Fat Chocobo, Prompto had immediately leaned over Noctis, sprawled on his back in a nest of blankets and pillows, and kissed him.
He too sleepy to think about doing that now, content to just bask in this moment, almost too warm but still comfortable, until he feels his eyelids start to droop.
“Man, I’m tired,” he yawns. A quick look down to Noctis - whose eyelids are only functionally open as far as they need to be to see the TV screen - tells him that Noctis is just as sleepy. “So, what are the chances we can move a mattress in here without breaking the whole thing?”
“Too heavy,” Noctis says as an answer, slouching further into Prompto’s lap.
Prompto presses a kiss to his forehead as a preemptive apology, then shoves Noct roughly off so he can get up and appraise the situation, laughing at Noct’s groan of complaint.
“Maybe we can put the futon down,” he says, but he thinks if they pull it too far, they’ll be missing a whole half of Fort Fat Chocobo by morning.
“Why bother,” Noct grumbles, curled up where Prompto left him. “It fits two.”
“Yeah, but it’s a tight fit,” he starts, then realizes that Noct’s neck is growing steadily pinker. Prompto laughs and leans over the prince. “Aw, buddy. If you wanted to cuddle you shoulda just asked!”
“Shut up,” Noctis says, but he’s already rolling onto his back and pulling Prompto down for a kiss. It’s so slow and lazy that it’s almost half-hearted, nowhere near as charged as their little makeout session earlier.
“Big spoon or little spoon?” Prompto says when he finally pulls away. It’s a bit of a point of contention for them, since they both prefer being little spoon, but they’re mostly civil about it. Especially since Noctis needs the comfort more often than not and Prompto gets that.
Today, though, Noctis says, “Big,” and pulls himself onto the futon, rolling into position against the back. Prompto keeps him waiting for just long enough to grab his phone and snap a picture of Noctis pouting before moving to settle back against the familiar warmth. They shift around for a few moments - Noct seems torn between wanting him closer and the fact that it’s still really hot inside the blanket fort - until they’re a comfortable tangle of limbs, one of Prompto’s ankles hooked behind Noct’s and Noct’s arm thrown over his middle to thread his fingers through Prompto’s. Prompto knows Noct is going to fall asleep first, so he’s using his other hand to go through his phone until he can meet him there.
“Thanks for today, dude,” he says, softly, before sleep can settle in.
“No problem,” Noct murmurs, breath tickling the back of Prompto’s neck. “I had fun, too.”
“Love you,” he says, just to see how it feels. He’s happy to find that it’s just as familiar and unsurprisingly natural as everything about Noctis.
“Love you, too,” Noctis slurs, clearly moments from sleep. He’s sure if they were both solidly awake, the prince would have stuttered just a little. He’s so much less accustomed to the cheesy sentimental stuff than Prompto, who’s a hopeless romantic on the worst of days.
But Noctis is so close to sleep that he’s snoring softly against Prompto’s neck not five minutes later. It’s still too hot, Noctis is blissfully unaware of how it feels like they’re practically plastered together under the tent of blankets, but Prompto can’t bring himself to move, just sweats it out until he feels his brain quiet down and eyelids droop steadily lower.
“Love you,” he says again in the moments before sleep.
***
Sometime during the night, Fort Fat Chocobo experiences a critical structural failure and collapses around them.
It’s Gladio that finds them the next day and pulls them from the wreckage. Or tries to, because he can carry Noctis and Prompto individually but not together, and Noctis is as sticky as a leech when he’s drowsy. So Prompto - who by now is solidly awake and desperate - is helplessly stuck, tangled up in both the remains of Fort Fat Chocobo and Noctis.
“When I said you two were attached at the hip, I didn’t mean for you to make it into a goal or anything,” Gladio says, flatly, then helps Prompto pry Noctis off him for long enough to free himself from the tangle of blankets.
He’s unsurprised when Noct’s displeased whine is enough for Prompto to put himself right back where he’d started, though.
These dumb kids, he thinks, then takes a long sip of coffee. He’s going to need it.