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Chapter Text

“At least it’s nice out,” Noctis muttered to himself as he staggered out into the burning sun and shut the door of Kappa Epsilon quietly behind him.  Head hurting like a motherfucker, he only managed to make it to the mailbox before another wave of vertigo had him quickly bending over and depositing a good eighty per cent of his insides into the nearby hedges.  It wasn’t the most auspicious of ways nor dignified of places to befriend a new face on campus, but that was what happened last week, and that was why he recognized the low chuckle coming from a few, short footsteps behind him. 

Wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, Noctis straightened and turned to Undercut—he hadn’t gotten his name; had relegated to nicknaming him 'Undercut' because of his haircut—clutching an unopened bottle of water. As if it were a repeat of last week, that same bottle of water was offered out to Noctis.  He hesitated this time, suspicious of the smirk on the Undercut's face.

“You stalking me?” The smirk disappeared, Undercut’s eyebrows rising above the frames of his sunglasses, incredulous.  He began to retract his arm, the bottle beginning to follow, and Noctis quickly snatched it away before it was out of reach. 

Muttering his thanks, Noctis twisted off the cap and drank greedily.  In the corner of his eye Undercut reached into his pockets, producing a tiny bottle of asprin. Noctis caught it as it was tossed over, emptied two pills of the stuff into his palm and flushed them down with the remaining water.  He handed back the asprin and was heading over to the bin to chuck the now-emptied bottle of water when his savior finally spoke:

“Until next week, your highness.”

Next week? Noctis repeated to himself, insulted.  He turned back to give him a piece of his mind when he found Undercut was already walking, continuing in the opposite direction Noctis had been heading, onto the lawn of Kappa Epsilon, letting himself into the frat house. 

It was only after a sufficient enough period of time passed—marked by the rude drivers honking enthusiastically at him from the road—that Noctis realized three things: 1) that he was here, attending a university he’d chosen specifically because it sat as far away from Lucis as geographically possible; under a fake name and in disguise which had abjectly failed him 2) that he might possibly have a frat boy as a knight in shining armour and 3) that he was now going to have to make fast friends with said frat boy to keep him from betraying his whereabouts to the media.  

But first, breakfast.

Chapter Text

Trying to track down a guy on campus with nothing else to go on except their hairstyle turned out to require significantly more effort than Noctis was prepared to invest.   Unluckily for Noctis, the boys of Kappa Epsilon were very mum on disclosing information about their own, politely requesting that he vacate their premises swiftly as there was an 'induction' (the term 'hazing' was deemed too aggressive according to the University Admins) 'ceremony' about to take place and outsiders were not welcome.  Noctis left, but not without imagining just what they had been planning on doing with a fog machine, blindfolds and paintball guns.  (And beer, but of course that was a given.)  

As he made the trek back to his flat—a good twenty minute walk from Kappa Epsilon-- it did occur to Noctis that he actually could have staked out the Kappa Epsilon headquarters (the bushes lining the driveway were thick enough to hide in) until his quarry—savior—possible blackmailer resurfaced, but again: energy he was not willing to expend. In hindsight, if he actually had done that, it would have saved him more energy than casually asking people in his tutorial group if they knew anything about a Kappa Epsilon boy with an undercut.  

But that was hindsight, of course, and currently Noctis was ready to strangle something cute or fluffy (possibly both) because shaving the sides of one's head happened to be a popular choice of haircut among the student population.  

Prompto, who often caught up with Noctis at the bench beneath the hundred year-old paopu tree in the quad—when their differing schedules overlapped in breaks between classes—told Noctis he wasn’t trying hard enough. To Prompto's credit, Prompto did know Noctis well enough to correctly guess Noctis had at the most, only asked three people about the frat boy (the group of guys from Kappa Epsilon who'd answered the door didn't count).  

"Now's not the time to be shy Noct," he’d said.  Noctis resented that. It wasn't that he was 'shy', far from it—he could handle people (in small amounts of course).  What Noctis couldn't handle—stand, was the weird looks and subsequent questions he got every time he asked after Undercut.  He could have listed all this out to Prompto to disprove him, but that would be five minutes wasted. So, he skipped over the debate in his head and told Prompto instead that Prompto wasn't paying attention.   

Which, to Noctis' credit, Prompto really wasn't.  

Before Noctis had found him Prompto had been in the middle of ‘supposedly’ taking candid shots of the student population for the university website. ‘Supposedly’ being the operative term, because it was summer time. Noctis had been friends with Prompto long enough to know two things. The first, was that as part of the guy’s close-but-not-quite Ignis-level work ethic, the shots for the website would have been completed weeks ago. At a glance Prompto didn’t strike people as being particularly studious, but he was certainly no slouch.  The second, was that Prompto was a consummate skirt-chaser.  As far as the latter was concerned, the terms summer season and mini-skirt season were synonymous. Getting his attention required determination and tolerance one could only have amassed from years of practice. (Or prayer—Ignis frequently stared up at the heavens, asking God to give him strength.)

“Will you put that away?” Noctis snapped, “this is serious.  He knows who I am.”

Prompto continued to squint through his camera’s viewfinder anyway, one bright blue eye scrunched tight.  CLICK went the shutter, again and again. "Uh-huh. . . national security. . . media. . .frat boy. . . " 

CLICK. CLICK.

“Prompto.” Noctis was really starting to regret getting him that zoom lens for Christmas.

CLICK. CLICK.

“Ah denim, always a classic,” Prompto said.  Swooned, rather.  

CLICK.

“Prompto.”

Prompto sighed and finally lowered the camera, looking almost as annoyed as Noctis felt.  He covered the lens with a cap and tucked the camera back into his bag, finally giving Noctis' his full attention.  And not without retribution.  “Noct, full offense: wearing a wig and contacts doesn’t make you less recognizable.”

“Ignis didn’t recognize me,” Noctis pointed out.  Prompto snorted.

“Ignis didn’t have his glasses.”

Whatever, still counted. “Let’s just go back to the problem.  Ideas?”

Prompto’s eyebrows knitted hard for a few seconds before inspiration struck.  “I got it!”  He slammed his fist onto the tabletop, earning stares from passing students.  “Salire,” Prompto said. 

 “Salire?”  If Prompto was as pleased as he looked, then in the opposite respect, Noctis matched him bit for bit in his confusion.  

“The student newsletter, Noct?  The student newsletter that I photograph for?” Prompto added, sighing at the blank look on Noctis’ face. “Ehh nevermind. Look, we have a kind of lost and found section for people trying to find other people and—” and that was as far as Prompto had gotten, because he had suddenly stilled, jaw going slack as he stared at something over Noctis’ shoulder in awe—“oh my God who is that?” His tone was breathy, and worryingly reverent.  

Noctis turned a little in his seat and glanced over his shoulder and saw his flatmate Crowe—the one he saw more on campus than in their actual flat because she was gunning for honours.  Smirking, because he could now use the little information he knew about her to his advantage, he said, deliberately casual: “Oh, her.”

“What do you mean 'oh, her'?" Prompto hissed, as though Noctis had said something blasphemous.  "You know her?” 

“Yeah?” The tone Noctis used had an unspoken ‘And?’ attached to it. . .

. . . which, Prompto obviously heard, because he practically launched himself across the table in the next instant, grabbing Noctis by the collar.  His voice cracked at the edges.  “But you don’t even talk to girls!”

Noctis wasn’t sure which emphasized word to take more offense at, but he did finally have Prompto’s attention and the upper hand in this conversation now, so that was all that mattered.  He grinned conspiratorially back: “You want her number or not?” The look on Prompto’s face proved that it was possible for his jaw to drop even further:

“Hold up: you have her number too?  You guys are friends?”  

Yeah, sure.  If by 'friends', Prompto meant the exchanging of numbers in the likely event that Noctis and his flatmates managed to lock themselves out of the flat at unholy hours of the night.  “Salire first,” said Noctis, and Prompto pouted. “Then I tell you what I know about her.”

Which was, really, only her name, and that she liked mango yoghurt—the threatening messages scribbled on the cartons in the fridge were incredibly detailed and graphic—but Noctis would worry about that later. 

Right now, Prompto was sufficiently motivated and this was going to save him energy. 

Chapter Text

Salire, Issue 10, 2016, pg. 54-56.  Crush on Campus

Dear Guy in the library every Thursday night.
You are gorgeous. 
You always have a blue and white polo shirt.
I appreciate a guy in a polo shirt.
I will be in the same spot next week with my chocobo pencil case.
You should come say hi........... ;)

Stella.
You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, you definitely have my head turning so much that
I would drag my balls through 10 km of broken glass then dip them in hot sauce
just to get her 2nd cousin's ex-boyfriend's mom's insurance agent's soccer partner to help me fight through
2 km of piranha scrotum targeting rivers in Altissia just so I can get to an old man's sweatshop in Hammerhead 
that lives in a run down river shack who made the shoes of the guy who once served you at the supermarket's job
just so I can have the chance to 'check' you out.

To the guys who broke into Delta Psi's wash house Sunday night to do a beer bong (who I walked in on)
youse seemed like pretty mint guys what are your numbers ? ;)

Chapter Text

Salire, Issue 12, 2016, pg. 54-56.  Crush on Campus

Heads up, Undercooked.  
Studies show that shaving one's head excessively
increases the chance of premature thinning of the hairline.
Sincerely, 
I Have a Bottle of Asprin, if This is Too Much Information For Your Primitive Brain to Handle.

Salire, Issue 13, 2016, pg. 54-56.  Crush on Campus

It's spelt As(s)prin.
Also that was uncalled for. 
What would your *father* say? (;
Sincerely, 
The Ladies Ain't Complaining
 

Salire, Issue 14, 2016, pg. 54-56.  Crush on Campus

 
My *father* would say that ladies 
NEVER complain about a guy--to his face. 
You know, in case he turns out to be a stalker or psychopath.
Which I think you might be.
Sincerely,
Do You Not Have Female Friends to Explain this to You

 

Salire, Issue 15, 2016, pg. 54-56.  Crush on Campus

Female friends.
Pity, As(s)prin, if the two of us were to use our fingers
to count all the women in our lives.
Because then you would only need a stump.
Sincerely,
Aloe Vera Will Not Save You from that Burn (;

Salire, Issue 16, 2016, pg. 54-56.  Crush on Campus

So you really are a stalker.
I would be disappointed, Underarm, if you don't already have my Socius No. 
Extremely disappointed indeed.
Sincerely, 
Better a Stump than Chlamydia 

Salire, Issue 22, 2016, pg. 57.  As Seen on the Interwebs

@Hotdogs5eva: My Mondays now consist of grabbing a hotdog AND a @Salire and tuning in to the Asprin-Undercut saga #aspercut

@Blu_Magic: @Salire I don't know who I was before #aspercut #nowkiss #theUSTisREAL

@balthier32: hey @Salire #aspercut is a hoax, right? 

@vierafran: went shoe shopping the other day and overheard a group of HIGHSCHOOL kids talking about #aspercut @Salire

@hyperion: what the hell is #aspercut ???

@squallL:  #aspercut is a hoax. that is all.  #whatever

@nunchakgal: @squallL shutuuuup omg #aspercut4eva #otp #aspercut

Salire, Issue 22, 2016, pg. 33-34.  Dear Salire

Dear Salire,

I don't know if it's a hoax or not, but for the past few weeks I have momentarily rediscovered a happy place to distract me from the impending moot me and some mates need to do, and that happy place is: *drumroll* being thoroughly entertained by messers Asprin and Undercut in your Crush on Campus column. We tune in every week for updates on the two, and frequently find ourselves stalking various members of Kappa Epsilon in the hopes of pinning down these two passive aggressive *expletive omitted*.  Just the other week we got into a heated debate on the authenticity of the messages sent back and forth. I really hope they aren't contrived, for then it would rob us of the meager ray of sunshine we've discovered in the cold abyss that is third year law.  

-Law Abiding Citizens

P.S. Is it too much to hope for names of the individuals involved?  Just to put faces to these names, the suspense is worse than waiting for our turn in the moot court. Honestlyyy....

Hi Law Abiding Citizens,

I'm so stoked you're enjoying that section--don't worry, your ray of sunshine is safe: all correspondences between both parties are legit! And I agree! Our team has not been this entertained or motivated to get work done since the Anth Dean streaked the Celestials-Knights Semi-Final. 

All the best for your moot!

-Salire

Salire's note: We can't reveal identities of the fellows involved, and we've also been informed by the President of Kappa Epsilon that trespassing of any kind will not go unpunished.  So please refrain. It's not worth sabotaging a prospective legal career over. 

Dear Salire,

I would like to nominate Asprin and Undercut for Love is Blind. 

-Avid Shipper

Hi Avid Shipper,

The nomination and seconding of said nomination need to come from Asprin's and Undercuts friends--as per the usual requirements for Love is Blind. I do appreciate your enthusiasm, though!

Who knows, perhaps Asprin's and Undercuts friends may rise to the challenge! *hint hint*

-Salire

Salire, Issue 25, 2016, pg. 33-34.  Dear Salire

I, Asprin, am not, nor would I ever be interested in participating in Love is Blind.
Especially as I already know that Underwhelming is a real *expletive omitted*
So it wouldn't really fulfill the requirement of a 'blind date', would it?
I mean if you paid me, it'd be a different story.

Over and out.

P.S. That was a joke. I wouldn't go on a date with that *expletive omitted* for all the gil in the world.  That money is better spent on creating cures for STDs.

Salire's note: Presented without comment

Salire, Issue 26, 2016, pg. 2. "Frat House Gets Behind Solaris Hospital Fundraiser"

"Fraternity members of Kappa Epsilon over the weekend traded their books for sponges to contribute to Solaris Hospital's effort to fight Pelvic inflammatory disease.  

Pelvic inflammatory disease, also known as PID, is a little known sexually transmitted disease (STD) that is actually a complication of certain STDS...chlamydia and gonorrhea....blah blah blah.

Kappa Epsilon Vice President Nyx Ulric, said the crew decided to hold the car wash to fundraise and spread awareness of the STD because 'interacting with the community' was an important tenet of the Kappa Epsilon philosophy.'"

Noctis rolled his eyes, scrunched up the newsletter and tossed it across the room into the bin.  Pelna, who was sprawled on Noctis' bed like he owned it, chewing gummy worms, held out the packet to Noctis.

"Told you he was a shit," Pelna said, chuckling at the deadpan expression on Noctis' face.  "'Interacting with the community.' What an asshat.  Point to him for this round, though. That was genius."

Noctis grunted in reply, took three blue gummy worms, and threw himself back into his essay.  

Chapter Text

In between roasting (and getting roasted by) Nyx in Salire and keeping his grades above an A- average (to keep Regis convinced that Noctis hadn't been experiencing an existential crisis when he'd chosen Midgar Tech over his father's alma mater), Noctis worked two part-time jobs to pay rent. He bussed tables at Trance: the university's student cafe, and unpacked boxes for Nautilus, one of the major Department Stores in Midgar.  He'd wanted his university experience to be as close to 'normal' as dellusionally possible, and that meant saying no to a private, fully stocked and furnished apartment and a fervent hell no to having a Kingsglaive protecting him 24/8.  

(He couldn't get away with justifying taking out a student loan, though.  The Caelum family was affluent even without the crown (coal miners in his ancestors' day until they'd struck crystal) and Regis had rightly pointed out that there would be hell to pay if the Lucian populace ever discovered that their sweet, shy Crown Prince was actually a detestable cheapskate and freeloader benefiting from the blood, sweat and toil of taxpayers.)

"Concentrate, Noct" Ignis said, faintly amused while he observed Noctis from where Noctis' laptop was perched on the kitchen counter.  

A safe distance away from the laptop Noctis had set up an expresso machine (secondhand; used only once, its previous owner claimed) that Noctis had bought for cheap online.  Presently Noctis was doing his best absorb all the expertise Ignis had to offer on nailing the perfect rosetta, whilst refraining from the urge to hurl a mug at the nearest wall.  

"It shouldn't matter what it looks like," Noctis snapped.  

"You moved your whole arm again, didn't you?" 

"No." Noctis answered, pouring out the failed attempt down the sink and grabbing a clean mug.  He wiped the portafilter clean and started again.

"Slight movement of the wrist, Noct." Ignis reminded, while Noctis glared a hole through the new brew of expresso he'd just made.

"You said wiggle."

"I said slight movement of the--"

"Fuck!"

Ignis had the grace to disguise his laugh into a coughing fit in his sleeve.

"You said wiggle," Noctis shot him a dirty look, "so I wiggled. I'm wiggling.  Have been wiggling for the past seven hundred hours."  

The barista of Trance was going to be graduating in a few weeks time, and those few weeks was the only window Noctis had been given to master the craft before his supervisor decided to advertise.  The barista gig paid better so Noctis expected competition until he was reminded that his coworkers held down other part-time jobs elsewhere.   

Noctis, after painstakingly mastering the fundamentals of brewing expresso and steaming milk thought he'd been in the clear until his predecessor hinted that King (Noctis' boss--and no; after so many months together Noctis still had no idea if that was a nickname or his actual name [though he found himself leaning toward the latter when he caught a glimpse of King's driver's licence]) would really be factoring in presentation when he made his decision.

("If you can do a decent rosetta you're in." "Rosetta? What's a rosetta?" "Okay, you know how people get hearts and shit drawn in their lattes?" "Seriously?" "Yeah. Yeah he likes those.") 

The only downside of landing the barista job was that Nyx was regular at Trance and becoming barista meant putting himself front and center in the crossfire. Nyx wasn't aware Noctis worked at Trance, purely because Noctis innocently timed his breaks for whenever he showed up.  

Already Noctis could envision nightmarish scenarios of Nyx becoming the customer from Hell.  One did not simply spend weeks shitting and one-upping another someone only to walk away from the golden opportunity to do it daily without any reprisal from the other someone.

"Oh thank God, sounded like you guys were having sex in here," said Crowe, appearing beside Noctis in the kitchen in slipper boots and the cutest tonberry print nightshirt (that Noctis knew better than to comment on).  

She intercepted the mug before Noctis could empty it out and took a sip.  Then another, then another. It had to be a good sign that she had kept on sipping and at one point paused just to inhale the beverage with her eyes closed. 

"Erm," Ignis stated.

Noctis waved him into silence, waiting with bated breath. 6AM!Crowe when she was subhuman and just waking up was homicidally inclined at worst, and cantankerous at best, so the fact that she was actually smiling had to mean he'd gotten something right.  

Crowe opened her eyes again.

"What do you think?" Noctis asked.

"I think that job's in the bag--this coffee's amazing," she said.   "Also, you've got a real knack for drawing penises."

A thought, completely unbidden, hit Noctis and he grinned widely at her. 

"You're a genius, Crowe."

"Uh-huh. Now shutup and make me another coffee: I've got biochem to get through." 

Chapter Text

"…so then he whipped it out and I swear it was like this big." Tredd held out his hands to demonstrate to those gathered at the table. 

"Jesus, Furia," said Luche.  Beside Luche Nyx let out a low chuckle.  He was trying to build a tower out of sugar and salt packets.

"Yeah fuck off," Libertus scoffed.  "Noone's that big; not without surgery anyway."

"'at 'e sed," Sonitus agreed, through the mouthful of chocolate cake he'd stolen without any resistance from Axis.  Axis was too preoccupied with snickering at memes on his phone--as usual. He did, to his credit however; sense the others waiting on his input and gestured vaguely in Libertus' direction.

"You know the rule Teddy," Nyx yawned, pointing a salt packet at him.  

"Pics or it didn't happen; yeah, I got that covered, don't you worry," Tredd replied, though Nyx barely heard of course, already zeroing in on Yuffie who had arrived to set down a plate of sandwiches for them to share. He smiled winningly up at her.

"Still waiting on the time of day, Kisaragi."

"Aww get fucked Ulric," Yuffie replied sweetly, one hand over her heart. Leaning forward, she swept Nyx's salt-sugar tower all over his lap then left for the counter to grab their coffees. 

"Ha! Serves you right," said Libertus.

Nyx watched her go, shit-eating grin unfaltering in the slightest while he piled up the packets back onto the table, laying out the foundation for salt-sugar tower 2.0. "Someday, Libertus," he promised. "Someday."

"Just not today?" Libertus confirmed, chortling. 

"You know she's gay, right?" Luche said.  

"Bisexual," Nyx corrected.  

"And taken."

"Pfft. Now you're just lashing out."

"I'm not," Luche insisted.  "Come with me to Shinra Block and I'll introduce you.  She's President of the Krav Maga Club."

"Ooh I'll come!" Tredd snickered, eyes flashing with interest. He went ignored by the participants in the original conversation, of course.

"What; and in the meantime I get to harass other students with a megaphone and hand out info packets while I wait?" Nyx scoffed. "Nice try Luche.  Pass."

"Oi.  Pics, you," Libertus reminded Tredd, expression smug. Tredd shrugged and started digging into his pant pockets for his phone.

"And those had better be today's minutes for this meeting," Luche added, expression severe as he regarded Axis.

Axis rolled his eyes, closed whatever it was he'd been looking at and held up his phone to show his handiwork.

"Oh so Yuffie's spelt with two 'F's, not one," said Nyx, who had been leaning a lot further forward than everyone else to inspect.  

Axis finally noticed his empty plate and set about elbowing Sonitus, gesturing angrily.

"Whatever. I was getting up anyway." Sonitus went to the counter to pay for a new slice.  

"Anyway, back to me," Tredd continued, when Sonitus finally returned. "Altius got the whole thing on her phone." He smartly deleted any important text messages and emails the group could tease him about, then passed the device around their table.

The video was of a drunk student mooning one of the campus police-- to distract the guy long enough for the rest of the herd to get away. Crowe, who'd been doing the recording, had gotten front row seats to the guy's frank and beans. Which; Nyx thought, were as enviably well-endowed as she'd claimed. Incidentally, the guy also had a great singing voice.

"Toniiiiight. We are youuung. So I set the world on fiiiiire--OW! Jesus Mary Magdalene!"

There was scattered laughter around their table: the guard had started hauling the guy, pants still around his ankles, into the golf cart.  Crowe's laughter was the last thing they heard before the clip ended.  Axis took Tredd's phone to bluetooth a copy and someone kicked Nyx under the table.

"That Pelna's flatmate's mate isn't it?" Sonitus said. "Pervert with the camera."

"Did you have to kick me? And yeah his name's Prompto," Nyx remembered. He smiled at Libertus, the only one sitting tight-lipped across from him. He couldn't resist teasing. "Pelna says he's got a huge thing for her."

"You can say that again," Tredd quipped.

Nyx coughed into his arm, avoiding Libertus' gaze as it turned deadly.

"Anyway, it's not like she doesn't have a type." Luche chimed in. "Remember that guy from Eblan?"

Quiet murmurs of assent within the group. (Minus Libertus, of course.)

"Oh yeah, funny fucker wasn't he?" Tredd smiled fondly.

"Altius seemed to think so." Nyx agreed.  Again; still electing to ignore the waves of disapproval floating over from Libertus' corner.

"And he wasn't anything special in the looks department, too." Luche added.

Yuffie returned then, passing out their coffees.  Nyx said nothing; simply smiled at her until she was gone again.  She tossed a salt packet at his head, but of course he didn't notice.

"Speak for yourself," said Tredd eventually. "Geraldine was hot." 

"It's not always about looks, though.  The thing about women," Axis stated, choosing to forget his phone for the moment, "is that if you can make them laugh it doesn't matter if you have Satan's buttcrack for a face: you're instantly a hundred times more attractive to them."

"Though being ordained by the penis gods doesn't hurt either," Tredd added.  

"Hear, hear," said someone from a nearby table. Tredd reached over and clinked his mug with theirs. 

"Hey, is that the latest Salire?"  Tredd asked.

"Yeah. No Aspercut though." The guy said, sounding bummed. 

"You mind if I..."

"Yeah, nah go ahead."

"Cheers," said Tredd, turning back to their table to skim through it, coffee forgotten.

"It's not the size, but what you do with it that counts," Libertus muttered, but with an undercurrent of grudging that went unmissed by all at the table; least of all Tredd, who'd promptly grabbed him in a headlock.  

(Not that anyone else wouldn't have seized the opportunity, but Tredd had the unique advantage of possessing a fuck-all sense of self-preservation when it came to inciting the latter.)

"Aww. Still carrying a candle for 'little sis'?" Tredd teased. 

"Fuck up," Libertus growled, shoving him off. Sonitus snickered.

"I'm just saying what everyone's thinking." Tredd said, innocently holding up his hands in surrender.

"And I'm just telling you and everyone else here: fuck. up."

"Pretty sure that's going to be Prompto's job." Tredd muttered.  

Enraged, Libertus grabbed him by the collar--

"Oh dear; looks like I've put my foot in my mouth again," Tredd replied dispassionately.

"I'll show you foot in mouth--"

"Knock it off!" Luche growled, reaching across the table and wrenching them apart before any fists could connect. He dropped back into his seat again. "It's bad enough that we've got Ulric running around drawing atten--" --something abruptly caught Luche's eye and he stopped, staring at the mug sitting in front of Nyx. And then Nyx himself, after a fashion.

Tredd and Libertus also forgot that they were supposed to be on the verge of eviscerating each other and began howling with laughter.  Not two seconds later, Sonitus and Axis followed suit.

"What?" Nyx demanded. 

"Christ in a manger, Ulric." Luche pointed, trying to keep a straight face. "What the fuck kind of latte did you order?"

Tredd curled an arm over Nyx's shoulder as Nyx finally looked down, signalling for Axis to take a photo.

"Say: Pickles and Eggs!"

Chapter Text

Noctis was halfway to celebrating: in the middle of preparing to tip his baseball cap at Nyx when the latter stood and headed over to the counter, mug in tow, and an eerily calm expression on his face.  Well, there was a smile, but on Nyx, who had no rational reason to be anything but amicable, it naturally tended toward creepy.

"Better make yourself scarce!" Yuffie whispered, playfully nudging him on her way back to the till.   

Nyx took the stool right across from Noctis before he could even make his escape. In the background the other Kappas would have appeared lost in idle conversation if not for the fact that every few seconds a glance would be stolen in Noctis' general direction.  One Kappa, just returning from the bathroom, chose to forgo the pretense altogether, openly staring and smiling at Noctis. The corresponding chill running down Noctis' spine in response had the Lucian prince vaguely wondering if declining his father's suggestion of a bodyguard had been premature.  That was a smile reserved for serial killers.

 "Ayy Penis Prince!" The staring Kappa called.

"That's Tredd," Nyx said without checking over his shoulder, like it made the situation less awkward.  Nyx's face was a blur in Noctis' peripheral vision, but Noctis could tell he was smiling--he could hear it in the smugness of his voice. "If you go another twenty seconds without blinking he'll lose interest."

Twenty seconds later, Noctis could feel his eyes watering and Tredd's smirk had widened.

"He's not losing interest."

"He's not interested in losing.  I'll tell you what he is interested in, though."

Nyx leaned close.  When he finally leaned back, Noctis had swiftly broken eye contact, blushing a deep red.  Tredd cracked up laughing, one of the other Kappa guys dragging him in to give him a noogie.

"You're a shit, you know that?" Noctis heard the noogie-giver say.

"Or maybe you're all too easy," Tredd shot back, breaking free and turning the tables on his fellow Kappa. He looked up at Nyx, who presently had his mug halfway to his lips.  "Ulric! What's your highest?"

"Thirty-two," Nyx answered, without turning.  He winked at Noctis, as if there was an inside joke to be shared between the two of them, and Tredd (who didn't see the wink and likely would have reacted differently as a result) swore.

"Language!" Noctis was sure from Pelna's stories that this was the Kappa President Luche, who proceeded to launch into a lecture about 'cussing' being the 'art of ignorance'--much to the groans of all the other Kappas in the vicinity. 

"Don't take Tredd too seriously; no one sane does. So. Promotion?" Inquired Nyx, commanding Noctis' attention front and center once more. 

"Something like that," Noctis said trying for cool, but coming off defensive. In Noctis' defense, he still didn't know if Nyx was still planning on blackmailing him. Pelna did say Nyx was here on a scholarship, and it wasn't as if Midgar Tech cost peanuts to attend.  So Noctis could play at being civil, and 'civil' didn't necessarily equate playing 'nice'.

"Congrats," Nyx offered.

"Um. Thanks." Noctis responded awkwardly.  And then, because he didn't want Nyx to leave the conversation thinking the heir of the Lucis dynasty was as bright as custard, Noctis added, "I uh bought a secondhand one online to practice a bit."

"You must be Crowe's favorite person right now," Nyx chuckled.

"You know Crowe?" Crowe never mentioned anything about Nyx. Pelna he could understand from the old Kappa connection, but aloof and lowkey murderous Crowe who was at times the anti-thesis of human connection?  That same Crowe?

"Everyone who's ever walked in the vicinity of Shinra block knows Crowe," Nyx chuckled, amused at Noctis' befuddled expression. "But yeah we go way back.  I've seen her naked."

"You and Pelna both," Noctis said, without thinking.  Nyx's eyebrows rose.  Noctis quickly tried to backtrack. "Um-"

"Ahh well," Nyx's grin spread a little wider, taking it in stride.  "I've seen him naked too."

Again, with the naked thing.  "You guys are weird," Noctis stated.  Nyx shrugged and took a long sip of his latte in answer. Noctis figured he might as well cut to the chase.  "Are you going to tell me how you know who I am?"

"You mean," Nyx was smiling, "aside from the fact that you're enrolled as Noctis Ulcisci Lacem?"

Goddamnit. "I was going for: hiding in plain-"

"--and that you look exactly like your old man with that beard on your face?" Nyx interjected.  "I mean, it's impressive, don't get me wrong; but you look like your old man."

"Alright so maybe I might have--"

"--and died your hair brown but didn't actually think to change the style?"  Nyx added, somewhat gleefully.

"Um-"

"--and happen to be good friends with Prompto Argentum who is the best friend of the actual Noctis Lucis--"

"Alright, you've made your point, shutup,"  Noctis snapped, openly glaring now. 

Nyx drained the last of his coffee and neatly deposited a crisp 100 gil note into the tip jar on the counter with a wink.

"Milady."

He was back at his table, laughing and jostling with his fellow Kappas before the synapses in Noctis' brain could properly string into coherent thought.

Which, when they finally did, went a little something like this:

Fuck this guy.

Chapter Text

Pelna was flat on his back on his bedroom floor, Reconciling Narratives of the Zanarkand Massacre in Zanarkandian and Bevellian Textbooks spread open across his face when Crowe knocked and peered inside.  

“How’d the test go?”

The body on the floor gave a vague shrug.  

“Cool. Anyway.” Crowe planted herself in his desk chair and started munching on the half-eaten bag of gummy snakes beside his laptop. “So…you know how we tell people we're dating to get out of being asked out?"

“Mmhmmpghgh?”

“Yeah.  Code Orange.”

Pelna peeked out from under his book curiously. "Not Green?”

"Orange." Crowe confirmed. 

At that, he closed the textbook and set it aside, resting his hands on his chest. Thinking. Crowe picked out two blue ones—left the red for him because they were his favorite—and chewed.

"Is it Noct's friend?"

"Mm.  He's cute isn't he?" Crowe said in between bites. She picked out another blue gummy, pulling its head away from its body with her teeth.

"It's not?" Pelna's eyes seemed to bug out.

"Got back together with the ex last week."

Pelna sat up, shuffling on the floor so he could lean against the edge of the bed. Crowe passed him the packet. “Damn.”

“Yep. He was too optimistic, anyway.”

“So when do you need me?"

Crowe sat up immediately, reading through the lines. She hit him on the arm—a thing she tended to do whenever she got excited, and she was rarely--if ever--gentle about it.

"You have a date."

"I wouldn’t call it that-'

"The one from POLS211?  It is, isn't it?" She hit him again and Pelna choked and sputtered on a gummy snake, nodding. "When? Where? What?  Sneaky son of a bitch you, holding out on me—"

“I wasn’t being sneaky, you’ve just been busy.  And I thought Nyx would’ve—”

“He's too busy hitting on Noctis.” said Crowe, waving it off impatiently. Their differing, not to mention hectic schedules had caused them to drift apart the past couple of months, but while he’d always made time to hang out, she always wound up rain-checking last minute. Then he told her he’d been chatting to a cute assistant lecturer from one of his classes, and she felt marginally less guilty for not being able to hang out. Ensuring his success with the assistant felt like a surefire way to getting their friendship back on track.  She’d missed out on so much already.  Plus, she was a kick-ass wingwoman.  “Details. Go.”

"Tomorrow night at Trance. We’re defending our—"

"Fuck." said Crowe, slouching back into his chair.

Pelna stared. He'd known her well and long enough to never require any context.  

"You're kidding."

"Uh, yeah. Not kidding and I need you."

"What happened?"

Crowe rolled her eyes and did her best impression of whiny, entitled male. "'Oh that's weird, I've never seen you there.'"

"And so you told him…" Pelna picked out a blue gummy and tentatively bit into it, making a face. Crowe snatched it off him.

"I told you to leave me the blue ones.” She chewed vengefully and continued with her story. “So I told him, 'Oh it's my boyfriend who's actually into it.’ And he goes, ‘is he any good?’ but in a super condescending voice, so of course—”

“—you told him my team’s name.” Pelna finished, sighing. 

“And that you could quiz circles around him.” Crowe added.

“Oh my God, Crowe—”

“It’s not bragging if it’s true!  You guys win all the time don’t you?”

Pelna brandished a purple gummy at her indignantly.  “How do you even know that—you’ve never even seen us—”

“Well, yeah.  I hate Quiz Night.  Whatever, just lay waste to him if you see him—”

“—whoa whoa wait a minute, what do you mean ‘if you see him’—you're coming too. Code Orange, remember?"

"And POLS211?" said Crowe. "I stalked her social media. She's gorgeous."

Pelna rubbed his eyes.  "Eh, the invite was worded along the lines of 'you can tag along if you want', so technically still platonic. And you're my best friend, shut up." He added before she could protest. Crowe squeezed his shoulder and stood. 

"Thanks.  I owe you one."

"Quit saying that like we’re keeping score," said Pelna, and he calmly regressed back to the floor in the vegetative state she had found him in ten minutes earlier.

. . .

Noctis’ earliest experiences with anything game-show or trivia-related were more along the lines of unenthusiastic supporter and observer, when he and Prompto went to watch Iggy and Gladio at the Inter-School meets.  While he was impressed that they went undefeated during their run, he secretly felt that these things were always more of a competition to see who could hit the buzzer fastest, rather than a battle of wits.  Hard to tell which was worse: memorizing and yelling and then arguing about a bunch of useless facts with the mediator, or watching people memorize and yell and argue a bunch of useless facts with the mediator. 

Just, awful.

Midgar Tech had a Quiz Night, hosted every Friday from 8PM till late by Trance.  Initially Noctis didn’t care too much about it: he was only on Day Shift and effectively wouldn’t have to suffer through it.  Or so he'd assumed right up until King put him on the Graveyard Shift as punishment for accidentally sending the Dean of Science a Nyx special. The Dean had vehemently protested, naturally but only once he heard his favorite student had also ‘fallen victim’ to such unprofessionalism.  At first, Noctis had been aghast—not because he was being punished (he knew the day would come), but because he had difficulty believing that Nyx Ulric could be anyone's favourite anything.  He would later find out from Pelna that the Dean also happened to be House Mother for Kappa Epsilon.   

Noctis had no issue with being on Graveyard Shift—it meant he got to keep his job—right up until King slapped a visor on his head labelled ‘All-Knowing-One’ and told him he would be mediating the animals filing through Trance’s doors.  The Kappa boys had a team too, apparently. They parked themselves at the back corner of the café, Nyx shaking his bomber jacket out with a flourish and draping it over the arms of his chair the moment Noctis caught his eye.

I’m in hell, Noctis decided.  He still had buzzers to hand out and team names to jot down, and really doubted the Kappas would give him anything less than a hard time.

If it wasn’t Yuffie’s voice, then it had to be the claw wrapped around his upper arm that brought him back to life. She was in the middle of pulling on black leather pumps: someone had nominated her for Love is Blind and her date was a sullen, if not good-looking young man in a button-down that Noctis occasionally spotted sleeping under the Banora trees outside SHINRA block.

“It’ll be fun.” Yuffie insisted as Noctis helped her into her coat.  She turned and punched him encouragingly in the arm. “Just remember: you’re the boss.  You’ve got the hat!” 

. . .

Honestly. Honestly? Fuck the hat.

With the exception of Pelna’s presence Noctis with a capital ‘H’—hated Quiz Night. Trance had a liquor licence and after a few, the patrons had regressed from calling him All-Knowing-One to Know-It-All, thanks largely in part to someone from team Malboros Are Hairy demanding a recount at the end of the History Round, to which Tredd took offense, pointing indignantly at the Malboros and declaring that Know-It-All overturn the suggestion, “because the ladies don’t call him ‘Quick Fingers’ Bellum for nothing!”.

Objectivity be damned, Noctis would have sided with the Malboros and thrown out Tredd’s suggestion (and to a greater extent Tredd himself) if not for the fact that the entire café had erupted into jeers and wolf-whistles. He cleared his throat into the mic.

“All right, all right settle down! The team in the back—” Noctis started.

“You have to address us by name, All-Knowing-One,” Nyx called pompously. “You did that for Malboros Are Hairy. If you’re not gonna be objective, at least be consistent!”

“Hear, hear!” called the Malboro Captain, ‘incidentally’ sitting with Sonitus' arm draped casually over the backrest of her chair.

Noctis kept his gaze fixed stoically ahead on the back wall, and his voice cheerful.  “There will be no recount. The winners for this round are My Mates in the Back—”

“At least he’s consistent in not being objective!” Nyx whispered loudly to the other tables, earning drunken, indignant calls for impeachment from the populace.  They started chanting, banging their fists on the tables.

"IM-PEACH-MENT! IM-PEACH-MENT!" (Nyx was yelling ‘AB-DI-CATE! AB-DI-CATE!’, the smartass.)

“Fuck Quiz Night.” Noctis muttered.  He was about to yell into the mic again to shut them up—he couldn't officially kick them out until midnight—when someone stopped him. 

“I got this,” said Crowe. 

And grinning somewhat maniacally, she held up an air horn and pressed the button on the top.

. . .

Chapter Text

The cover was a three-year graduate exchange program.  

Nyx Ulric had been the natural choice by merit of rank, experience, the fact that he had zero familial obligations and most importantly: the fact that he could be invisible. Unfortunately, the social calendar at the frat house where his handler had dumped him boasted an above average smattering of potlucks and mixers that made blending in difficult. It had very little to do with the fact that he detested forced social interaction and had, admittedly, become far too accustomed to long periods of quiet, staring down the end of a sniper scope to let anyone (or anything) pervade it for too long. 

Intimacy issues, the therapist used to say.

(Used to.)

Still, he wasn’t too bothered; he’d been issued assignments that had given him a lot less to work with–Altissia, Lestallum, fucking Galdin–and had amassed enough experience and patient creativity to figure out workarounds as a result.  By the second month he’d calculated the perfect how and by the beginning of the fourth, was on his way to reporting back to his handler on the where.

If Nyx thought he had invisibility down pat, then Titus Drautos was a ghost. There had been a small group of Avalanche activists canvassing the quad when he’d arrived–bright orange polo shirts and all–and Nyx had already figured out a route that he could use to avoid having to lie his way out of signing whatever petition they were lobbying when one of them hopped directly into his path. 

Nyx’s response had been automatic:

“Sorry bud, got a study group to–” he stopped just as his gaze reached their face, doing a double take. Drautos smiled.  Technically it was less of a smile– more of a display of white, sharp teeth.  

“In that case I’ll be brief.” said Drautos. He gave the thumbs up to the other activists watching them before herding Nyx over to a bench where they could talk with their backs to them, and out of earshot.  

“Thought you wanted to keep a low profile.” Nyx muttered, maneuvering his shoulder bag onto his lap.

“Noisy activists bothering busy college coeds is the lowest profile one can have.  There they are, in the loudest color imaginable and no one spares them a second glance.” Drautos scoffed.  "Not even if it’s for a good cause.“

Nyx snorted.  "Didn’t take you for an environmentalist.”

“I’m not–competition pays better.  That doesn’t mean I don’t respect their enthusiasm.” Drautos handed him a pamphlet explaining the pitfalls of Mako energy. 

Nyx pretended to peruse it.  

“There’s going to be a party in two weeks time,” he said.  "I can do it then.“

Drautos, still in character should there be any curious bystanders, reached and turned the page for Nyx. 

“Not yet.”

“You’re negotiating?” Nyx frowned at the words on the page, as if they had suddenly morphed into a different language. “Doesn’t sound like you.”

“Whatever information a client gives us is at their discretion–however. Should the information they choose to withhold have an influence on world events, that by default influences the price, then its simply a matter of our discretion to negotiate.”

“How long’s that going to take?”  Drautos handed him the clipboard he’d tucked under his arm, and Nyx scribbled in his Calculus Professor’s details, complete with her signature.  

“Thought you liked Mathematical Modelling.” said Drautos, brow raised.

“I said I didn’t mind it.” Nyx corrected. “Drautos–”

“First rule of the Glaive: we don’t meddle in politics.” Drautos stood, shook Nyx’s hand for formality’s sake and jogged back to where the rest of the activists were chatting in a circle across the Quad.  

“And if we do,” muttered Nyx, shoving the pamphlet into his bag and pulling out Mathematical Models in Contact Mechanics, “we make sure we’re compensated for it.”

The target jogged past, headphones snug and tight in his ears.  

Blissfully unaware.