Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ignis is the best roommate.

He's not perfect -- he gets on Prompto's case about keeping common areas clean, and absolutely forbids him from interfering with Ignis' strict laundry routine -- but all things considered, he's damn close. He even lets Prompto use their guest room as a blackroom, which makes him heaven-sent, as far as Prompto is concerned. 

Instead of this comforting him like it usually does, the thought makes Prompto's stomach fill with hardened dread, settling down right at the bottom.

Ignis is a pretty great roommate.

And Prompto (probably) screwed it all up. Unintentionally, mind you, but it's not like that will matter when Ignis sees the state of their kitchen. Prompto's done stuff like this before. Maybe not this bad, but close enough. 

In his defense, though, it wasn't like he meant for this to happen. It just did. 

Granted, he could've prevented this had he been paying more attention, but that's an extremely minor detail. A minor detail Ignis hopefully won't have the foresight to bring up.

(Unlikely, if he's being honest; but Prompto's never been shy about hanging onto lost hope.)

---

The funny thing is, having Ignis possibly leave isn’t the worst part.

Being in love with him is.

---

Prompto cleans up as best as he can, but he still hasn't tackled even half of it by the time he hears Ignis' engine cut out in their driveway. 

He manages to clean most of the -- minor -- scorch marks on the cabinets in the morning, after the Crownsguard had left. The fact that Gladio's there helps, even though that means the other man could tell Ignis. 

Because Prompto hasn't. 

Every time he gets his phone out to text Ignis a heads-up, he ends up typing up drafts for ten minutes before he decides calling him would be the best bet. But, he doesn't feel like doing that either. 

He may or may not have thrown his phone on the couch to avoid doing anything about it. 

Not his brightest moment, clearly. 

Anyway, now their cabinets are darker. Prompto actually thinks their kitchen looks nicer now, but the reason why is painfully obvious.

He hasn't tackled the powdered sugar on the counters, but there's only so many times he can clean them before it becomes a lost cause. 

It is truly everywhere.

He doesn't think he'll ever manage to get all of it, at least not in the next thirty-five seconds. Or however long it takes for Ignis to walk through the door. 

Prompto hasn't been keeping track. A huge oversight, no doubt. Ignis is going to catch him staring helplessly at their kitchen and bail on him. 

At least this is the first time he's done something of this magnitude. 

He doesn't like disappointing Ignis. He's pretty sure his roommate knows it, too. 

Completely mortifying, he tells himself cheerily.

It's only after the tube of clorox wipes are loudly placed on the counter that he registers the voice talking to him. 

"Prompto," Ignis is saying, and from the tone of his voice Prompto guesses he's been saying it for a while. He's close enough now to put a hand on his shoulder, and he does. 

"The Crownsguard didn't mention any injuries, but I needed to be certain," he continues, "Are you alright?" 

"I'm so sorry, Iggy," Prompto says, once he's seized control of his throat. 

Ignis' eyebrows furrow. 

"You have no reason to be," Ignis says, sounding careful and calm; it eases some of the anguish residing in Prompto's chest. "Though, it would be prudent of you to check your phone more frequently." 

He flushes in embarrassment, clearly remembering exactly where he threw his phone. 

Wait. Prompto's brain catches up; is Ignis saying what he thinks he's saying? was he worried? About Prompto? 

Of course he was worried, moron. Ignis quite obviously cares about his friends. Prompto just doesn't think he deserves such a kindness. Surely the man had more important things -- and people -- to worry about. 

"I threw my phone on the couch," he admits, after a long pause. "I'm sorry, Ignis." 

The look Ignis gives him then burns the fronts of his cheeks. Prompto can't quite bring himself to meet his gaze, but he can tell that it's a look he's quite familiar with. It's one of the brunet's favorites whenever Prompto gets self-deprecating even slightly self-deprecating. 

"No apologies are necessary. I only wanted to make sure you were alright."  

Prompto can’t help but stare at him.

Is Ignis honestly going to ignore the giant elephant in the room? Is he being willfully ignorant here to give Prompto an out? The kitchen looks like an explosion of sugar and blue frosting. It would be impressive otherwise. 

"Dude, I am the least of your concern. There's blue frosting on the ceiling," he points out. Prompto isn't purposely avoiding anything here. He's only directing Ignis' attention elsewhere, that's all. For unrelated reasons, of course. "And I know you've noticed, Iggy. It almost looks like Insomnia's hottest rodent rave happened on our countertops. And our floors. And uh, honestly? Pretty much everything." 

Ignis isn't quick enough to hide the face he makes this time. 

Prompto smiles triumphantly. So he had noticed. 

"Possible rave nonwithstanding, these are all cosmetic fixes, Prompto," starts Ignis. His tone is still so soft; there's none of the usual rasp to it. If Prompto didn't know any better, he'd say the man was talking to a spooked chocobo and not, well, Prompto. "You are not." 

His heart pounds pitifully in his chest. 

Don't read into it, it doesn't mean anything, he tells himself. Ignis is only caring about a friend.

With that fresh in his mind, Prompto waves him off with a dismissive hand. "I'm all good, dude. Don't worry about me."

"Prompto."

He clears his throat, forcing himself to meet his roommate's gaze. Time to try and salvage this wreck of a conversation. Before Ignis does something unbearably sweet and Prompto isn't able to stop himself from jumping to conclusions. "I told Gladio not to tell you. I didn't want to bother you." 

Ignis rolls his eyes. 

"That isn't the point. They're obligated to contact me, my name is on the lease as well." Ignis tells him, gently. 

"Oh," Prompto says, dumbly. He shifts on his feet. "I -- I wasn't try to cover anything up, Iggy... Okay, I was, but only the cabinets? I would've told you about the sugar and frosting! Eventually."

“That's not the point, Prompto. They’re obligated to contact me, my name is on the lease.” Ignis corrects him, but it’s strangely gentle.

Ignis doesn't say anything for a long moment. If Prompto's being honest, he really isn't paying attention. He hasn't been able to shake the thought that Ignis was worried about him enough to leave a work conference for him. 

Ignis rarely ever leaves work conferences. He's required to be there, after all. So, it doesn't mean anything; at least not the way he desperately wants it to. Ignis would do this for any of them. 

Prompto wills his heart to stop doing cartwheels at his racing thoughts. His moronic, hopeful heart. 

"You can't evade the question forever, Prompto," says Ignis, lightly. "You make trying to look after you rather difficult."

Prompto swallows around the sudden tightness in his throat. 

"There's nothing to evade, Iggy. I'm okay. I swear."

Truthfully, he's a considerable distance away from okay, but he can't tell Ignis that. Most of it is his own misconstrued bullshit anyway -- just because his intrusive thoughts might not hold weight when he examines them rationally, it doesn't mean they aren't loud.

Rationality has never mattered much to his anxiety anyway.

Ignis is openly staring at him now, for long moments that seem to melt right into each other. His eyes slide down what feel like every damn part of him. Prompto tries not to shrink under the weight of his gaze (show no weakness, and all that) but his palms are already sweating. 

It's a loss cause.

"You can tell me whatever it is that's bothering you."

The thing is, he really, seriously can't. This is hardly the place to admit he's in love with him. Prompto thinks that's one secret he'll never tell. 

Prompto bites his lip. "The fire didn't bother me that much," he says, very carefully leaving out the part where he locked himself in the bathroom to have a panic attack after the apartment was blessedly empty this morning. 

"I believe you. However, it's quite obvious something else is eating at you," Ignis tells him. "You're not obligated to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable, of course."

Prompto shakes his head, somewhat frantically. He doesn't think Ignis could do anything that would make him uncomfortable. 

"No, no! It's not like that at all, Iggy. I, ah -- I thought you'd be a little more pissed about the kitchen?" Prompto chokes on the last word, barely managed to wrangle it out. 

Ignis adjusts his glasses. He is so unfairly beautiful that Prompto finds it hard to look directly at him. 

"Not that I thought you'd be mean about it, dude," he hastens to explain. "Well, I mean, kind of? But only because this isn't...even remotely the first time I've done something like this." 

He's never set the cabinets on fire, exactly, but he's already ruined three expensive shelves, accidentally flooded the bathroom when the lever broke and he took to long to shut their water off. There's also that time before Ignis implemented his strict rules about laundry, when Prompto forgot about the pair of pink boxers in their whites. 

Thankfully, Ignis seemed amused by that more than anything, which Prompto still doesn't understand. Maybe the man simply liked the color pink? 

He can relate. He does own several pairs of pink boxers.

Ignis chuckles again, and the expression on his face is almost fond. Prompto's breath stutters. 

"You're very endearing, Prompto," Ignis says, polished emerald meeting his. He's always loved Ignis' eyes; not even his glasses' constant reflection could ever wash them out.

"I -- what?"

Ignis only smiles at him. 

"Let us clean up the kitchen. I certainly don't want to deal with ants."

Prompto immediately throws his hands up. 

"No, Iggy, you don't -- you don't have to help me! I made the mess, I'll do it. You should go back to the conference, you've already missed too much." 

"Nonsense," Ignis says, dismissive like Prompto's never heard him. "Truthfully, I've been meaning to do a deep clean of the kitchen. This is an opportunity I shouldn't let go to waste." 

"Then let me clean up the mess I made, and you can deep clean it after I'm done," Prompto offers, though he can feel himself already caving. 

The cleaning would go by faster if there were two people working. 

Ignis must be able to sense this, since he reaches for the step stool they keep beside the fridge. 

"Let me help you. I assure you, I want to." 

He lets out a breath. Reminds himself there's no shame in letting someone help him with something. Prompto still has a hard time letting people outwardly take care of him, but he'd like to think he's slowly getting better at it.

Having friends like Noctis, like Gladio, like Ignis. It helps. They all take care of each other. Prompto's terrified one day he'll lose it. 

"Okay," He concedes, mouth twitching into a small smile. "But at least let me deal with the blue frosting." 

"You don't need to tell me twice," Ignis teases, in that dry and raspy sense of humor that Prompto loves so much, motioning him towards the step stool. 

Prompto beams. 

---

("So, why don't you go back to the conference after this?" Prompto asks, some time later. 

The counters are completely clear of sugar, because Ignis is some type of sugar deleting deity. He's even gotten all of the frosting off the ceiling; that had seemed impossible hours ago. Prompto's stupidly grateful for the help and makes a note to get him a absurdly nice Christmas present. Astrals knows the man deserves it.

The last time he checked the time, it was only two in the morning. With his roommate's help he'll be able to catch a couple hours of sleep. 

"The king himself forbade me from returning until after the conference has ended."

"What? Why would he do that?"

Ignis gives him the same look from earlier. Prompto fidgets nervously as his heart gives a very resounding thumb.

"Everyone's quite worried about you. The only thing that stopped Noctis from being here is the King only permitting me to leave," Ignis says, amused. 

Prompto can feel the searing bite of blush on his cheeks, dripping down onto his neck. The thought of everyone at the Citadel worrying about him -- he's Noctis' best friend and Ignis' roommate, of course they're concerned -- simultaneously makes him feel mushy and guilty. 

A guilty pile of mush. That's what he is right now.

"Everyone?" 

"Indeed."

Prompto doesn’t know what to say to that.)

---

By the time the kitchen is sparkling like the day they signed the lease, Prompto's dead on his feet. Sleep doesn't come easy for him usually, but being alone in their apartment feels an awful lot like the loneliness of an empty house he remembers from when he was a child. It makes it even harder to sleep whenever Ignis goes away for royal business.

Prompto's been meaning to talk to him about getting a cat, or something.  

By some way of the Six, Ignis is starting to look a little tired, too. He has to be as tired as Prompto feels; the man's composure is certainly something else. He sleepily watches Ignis wipe the counters down one last time, and quietly tries not to have an aneurysm. 

Ignis took off his suit jacket a couple of hours ago, thank the Astrals. He's unhooked his suspenders so they drop at his hips, and the sleeves of his fancy work shirt are rolled up to his elbows. It all makes such an unfair picture that Prompto's sorely tempted to whip out his phone's camera. 

He tries incredibly hard not to take candid photos of his roommate. 

He isn't always successful. 

"I don't think the counters can get any cleaner," Prompto sleepily informs him, to distract himself from his current train of thought. 

Popping a semi at the counter isn't exactly his idea of a good time. 

Ignis doesn't stop wiping down the counter, but Prompto does catch the remnants of a smile on his face. "Hm, that should be in the interest of the one who isn't currently falling asleep."

He sounds teasing again. 

"I'm awake," Prompto argues, a touch petulantly, every inch like he hasn't been falling under for the last five minutes. 

Prompto watches as Ignis finishes the section of counter, setting the rag down when he's done. Ignis turns to face him, then, shooing Prompto out of the kitchen, which is unexpectedly cute. Prompto doesn't know what to do with all of the sudden warmth in his chest. 

He's too tired to do anything other than blink at it blearily. 

"Let's get you off to bed." 

Stay with me, Prompto doesn't say, but he wants to. If he hasn't already been painfully obvious tonight, then there isn't any use in starting now. He's been able to keep the enormity of his feelings to himself all this time, and he'd prefer to keep it that way.

The prospect of Ignis returning them is as terrifying as getting rejected. Promptos track record with relationships is -- well, utter shit. 

"No sneaking back into the kitchen to clean it after I fall asleep," he says, pointing an accusing finger at Ignis' chest, or at least he tries to. It ends up landing somewhere around his bicep, but it's just as well. "It can wait until the morning."

Prompto feels him chuckle.

"If it will allow you to finally get some rest, then you have my word Prompto."

"That's what I like to hear," Prompto mumbles, and a few steps later they're at his bedroom door. 

"I trust you're able to get in bed by yourself?" Ignis asks, raising an eyebrow. 

His eyes are as bright as Prompto's ever seen them. He isn't quite sure how, but he knows if he were to ask to be tucked in, the other man would indulge him. 

However, Prompto isn't far gone enough that he won't be terribly embarrassed by that in the morning, so he shakes his head and bumps their shoulders together. Their shoulders miss by a couple of inches, and it's times like these where Prompto actually notices the height difference between them. 

"I think I can manage. Thanks, Iggy," The weight of his words cause his voice to come out as a whisper. 

He's not only talking about the kitchen.

"Anytime," Ignis says, warmly. "Goodnight, Prompto." 

"'Night," Prompto returns, spilling himself into his room, narrowly avoiding braining himself on his dresser. 

At least the door is already closed behind him so Ignis can't see him make a proper fool of himself.

---

Prompto wakes up an indeterminable amount of time later to the smell of pancakes and fresh coffee. That means Ignis went through the trouble of grounding the beans. He hardly ever does that, and part of Prompto wonders if that means Noctis broke free of the conferences clutches himself. He wouldn't mind seeing the prince's grumpy face this morning. 

The thought makes him smile.

He allows himself a few more seconds to laze around in bed, taking the time to actually stretch out his limbs for once. He forces himself to his feet shortly after, grabbing his flannel pajama pants off the floor where he threw them in his sleep.

Sometimes he sleep strips. It isn't as alarming as it used to be. 

Prompto opens his bedroom door as soon as he's decent, and the pull of breakfast is even stronger. He can also taste his morning breath, which is not as delicious. He quickly reroutes to their shared bathroom and brushes his teeth. The last thing Ingis needs is him stinking up the kitchen. 

"Good morning, Prompto," Ignis calls. 

Prompto feels properly unbalanced, heart taking off in a clumsy rhythm in his chest. It's too early for this. He stares at himself dazedly in the mirror, toothbrush hanging dangerously close to falling out of his mouth. 

Most mornings, Ignis catches him after Prompto goes out for his morning run. When he returns, sweaty and red, and honestly, a hot-fucking-mess, it still feels like a surprise when he finds Ignis in the kitchen, standing blearily in front of the coffee pot. 

They almost never catch each other this early.

Prompto's stomach does backflips, regardless.

He leaves the bathroom once he's finished, and Ignis is exactly where he expects him to be, standing over the stove with a spatula in his hand.

The whole thing is starkly domestic. 

“Sorry, dude,” he greets.

"Did you sleep well?" asks Ignis, glancing up at him through his glasses. 

The taller man hasn't bothered to change out of his sleep pants either, and the thought is doing stupid things to Prompto's brain. He remembers the first time he saw Ignis completely casual like this. It's one of his favorite things about living with him.

Prompto smiles. "Like a rock. How about you?" 

The bacon's sizzling in the background, and Prompto can already taste the pancakes that are cooling on the counter next to them. It all looks delicious, but then again everything Ignis makes does.

"That's good to hear. I have no complaints, either." 

"Must be something in the air," Prompto jokes. 

Ignis looks over at him again, but Prompto can't qutie make out what his expression means. "Perhaps. Would you mind bringing the plates to the table?"

He's already set them aside, so Prompto grabs them and brings them over to their small breakfast nook in the corner. 

"I live to please," Prompto says as he does, and it's only after years of practicing that he can say it so playfully. Prompto isn't entirely convinced he doesn't live to please. It feels an awful lot like he does sometimes. But, that thoughts too heavy for the morning; he pushes it aside. "Hey, uh, is Noct coming over?" 

"Not this morning. His attendance is still required at the Citadel, much to his annoyance." 

Prompto shrugs. “Oh, okay. Then who is the breakfast for?” 

He knows it's a stupid question before he opens his mouth. It's not like this is the first time Iggy's made him food. Ignis pretty much always makes him food. Prompto's just -- he's having a hard time not reading into this. He's a little emotionally raw from everything that happened yesterday, and he doesn't want to see something that isn't there. 

Ignis takes the pan off the heat and flips the stove off without answering. Prompto watches him go through the motions, noting how fluidly his muscles move beneath his skin. Ignis isn't overtly muscular, not to the extend of Gladio, but he's all quiet danger and long lines.

It's painfully and endlessly attractive.

"It is for the both of us," Ignis says, eyes sliding up to meet Prompto's own. "I want to talk to you." 

Oh, Astrals.

Here it is, Prompto thinks bleakly. Ignis has had some time to think without Prompto annoyingly breathing down his neck and he's going to find a new roommate. Maybe they can still be friends after he moves out. 

“O-Okay,” Prompto squeaks.

Should he start looking for a new roommate or a new apartment? He makes a mental note to check both. There's a good chance he'll need them, after he's done crashing on Noctis' couch for a few weeks. 

Prompto's brought out of his increasingly panicked thoughts by a touch to his hand. There's a distinct squeeze-like pressure around his pals, but it only lasts a second, gone as fast as it appeared. 

He looks up and is met with Ignis' fiery gaze. 

"There's no need to worry," assures Ignis. 

Prompto has to look away at the earnestness of his tone. 

"I kinda can't help it, dude," he jokes, tone probably a little too fragile.

Ignis clears his throat. 

"I know." There's another pause. Prompto doesn't think he's ever seen Ignis look like this; this nervous before. Previously, he thought the man incapable of it. Ignis didn't seem to be scared of anything. "I don't want your worry to stew any longer, so forgive me for the lack of finesse, but I seem to have fallen in love with you, Prompto."

The universe collapses and expands around him all at once. Prompto's inner gravity is thrown to hell and back, and it's all he can do to keep himself from collapsing to the floor. This has to be a remarkably vivid dream. 

He's going to wake up in his bed any moment now, marginally more disappointed. The only thing that will remain the same is Ignis making him breakfast, because that's something he really would do. Then he's going to sit Prompto down and tell him he's going to be looking for a new place. 

That seems much more believable than whatever -- this is.

Prompto knows he's been quiet for way too long, but he doesn't know what to say. He almost wants to laugh, very loudly. That's an extremely bad idea. Prompto makes it a point to laugh with people, not at them. 

"I --" Prompto cuts himself off. He wonders if he looks as lost as he feels. Probably more. "Should I pinch myself? I should pinch myself," he mumbles. 

He doesn't let Ignis respond before he's doing exactly that. 

Ow, yeah. He's definitely awake. 

"This isn't a dream, dear Prompto." 

Prompto's cheek flush at the endearment. 

"I don't understand," He says, scratching behind his neck, nervously. "I find it hard to believe you would ever have feelings for me, Iggy." 

Ignis runs his thumbs along Prompto's knuckles. "I think you're remarkable. Is that truly so hard to believe?" 

"Coming from you? Yeah," he answers, but its starting to sink in, and he's smiling, albeit a bit wryly. The only thing he's able to bring himself to focus on is Ignis' mouth. He should say something; maybe assure Ignis his feelings are returned (boy are they ever) or asking him if he's absolutely positive about this, about Prompto. 

He doesn't.  

He can't stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. Hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since who-knows-when. 

"I--" Prompto starts. He takes a deep breath through his nose, steeling himself for his next question. "Can I kiss you?" 

There's a sharp intake of breath. It takes him twenty seconds to realize it was his own, and Prompto rolls on the balls of his feet for a few seconds while he waits. He'd stand here all morning if he had to. Now that the question is out there, he doesn't find it so terrifying.

Either Ignis will say yes, or he doesn't. 

If the latter is the case, Prompto might just give Ignis a break and move out himself. 

"You may." 

Prompto doesn't hesitate, he leans over their half-eaten breakfast and presses their lips together. It's a little hasty, but their teeth don't knock together, at least. Ignis surges into the kiss immediately, kissing him with a controlled, but burning passion like he does everything. It makes Prompto shudder. 

How long has he wanted this? 

Too long to keep count.

The heat of Ignis' mouth against his own is a brilliant weight Prompto never wants to get rid of, a searing fire he doesn't want to ever heal.

Ignis is the first to pull away. 

Prompto's close enough to see the light spots underneath Ignis' spreading over his cheekbones. He's heard people call his own freckles constellations before, but he wants to trace the marks on Ignis' face.

They're far more fascinating.  

"I love you too, you know," he blurts, without any control over his mouth whatsoever. "I have for a long time." 

Ignis kisses him again, and the second kiss is as intoxicating as the first. Prompto slides a hand up the taller man's neck to cradle his jaw. Kissing Ignis is both exactly like and completely different than what he was expecting. It's more. The same feelings but louder; the same touch but with implication. 

Prompto, admittedly, has never been very good with words, but he has so many to say about this. 

He's the one that pulls away this time. 

"I never thought I'd get to have this," Prompto admits. "I'm a little off-center, here."

"Just yesterday I was bemoaning to Gladio about unrequited feelings. Funny, that." 

Prompto doesn't know what he's more surprised by, the fact that Ignis doesn't work constantly at these conferences or that he talked about him at all. 

"How'd that go?" 

"He seened to find the way I 'danced around you' irritating and entertaining." 

Prompto grins. "Just how long could we have been doing this?" 

"A while, I imagine." 

"Huh. Well, the journey doesn't matter, only the destination," Prompto recites, dutifully. He thinks he read that one a calendar once.

"Indeed," Ignis says, warmly. "Now, I believe we should finish our breakfast, lest it get cold."

Prompto makes a face down at his plate. Cold eggs aren't exactly pleasant. 

If anyone asks, he's definitely not hiding a smile around his fork when Ignis laces their fingers together.

---

Hours later, Prompto can't hold back his groan.

"What?" Ignis asks him, brow furrowed.

"Noctis is going to be so smug about this," Prompto says. 

Ignis chuckles.

"Let him have his fun," Ignis nudges him. "Though if he gets too unbearable I'll serve him beans again."

He throws his head back and laughs. "I had to listen to him complain about that for weeks, Iggy." 

"Better you than me," Ignis says, but there's a kiss at his temple.

It's not like Noctis doesn't give Ignis the same treatment, anyway. 

---

Months later, they're lying in bed together and Prompto can't get a thought out of his head. Ignis is reading some political report that would make Prompto's eyes bleed. He normally isn't capable of lounging around in one place for a long amount of time, but for once his mind is mostly quiet.

Except.

Prompto bites his lip. He's comfortable enough in their relationship to ask this. He's the same fumbling mess he was in the beginning, but he has it on good authority that Ignis loves him. It makes talking about things like this easier. 

"Spit it out already." Ignis says, peering at him over the rim of his glasses.

It really is unfair how unattractive he is.

"Okay," Prompto says. Like a bandaid, Prompto, you can do this. "Did you ever consider moving out?"

If Ignis is surprised by the question he doesn't say anything. He does reach over and run his fingers through Prompto's hair. He hasn't brushed it in two days and it's probably due for a wash, which is downright disgusting. How his boyfriend is petting gis hair is beyond him.

Ignis makes sure to meet his eyes before answering. 

"Never, darling."

"Never?" Prompto asks, disbelievingly. 

Ignis simply kisses him in reply. 

He'll never get tired of that.

---

In hindsight, trying to make birthday cupcakes from scratch wasn't such a bad idea, after all.