Ignis Scientia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blindsider) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fourstrings2021-03-12 12:59 pm
blindsider) wrote in fourstrings2021-03-12 12:59 pm
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[ It's possible, of course, that Ignis could be imagining it. That all his pining after Noctis has manifested in some kind of derangement of wishful thinking, Ignis interpreting signals where there are none to be read. But recently it's felt as if they're dancing around something neither of them quite dare to name, and today has felt more that way than ever. Appropriate, since it's ostensibly a dance they're preparing for - though Noct, and eligible royalty, won't be required to dance, lest people read into it.
Ignis had helped him dress, given that such occasions require full formal gear and there are accessories that hearken back to the days when it would have been unthought of for royalty to dress themselves. Not quite as bad as it once was, but enough that Ignis wants to be there to fasten chains and settle fabric for Noctis so that the prince won't already be at the limits of his frustration before the evening starts. Noct looks very handsome in his formalwear indeed, and he'd thought he was doing a very good job of hiding it right up until Noct broke a stream of grousing about the evening ahead to look up at Ignis from under the thick fringe of his dark lashes and said, soft and low, but you'll be there, right? and let his knuckles brush against the back of Ignis' hand, and Ignis had felt his heart hammering its way up from his chest into his throat with such speed that he worried it would spill out of his mouth the second he opened it.
Of course, Noct, he'd said, after what felt like far too long taken to gather his wits. I'll be there with you. And there had been something delicious about that thought, about phrasing it that way - that rather than being there at the same time they would be there together, though of course they were never far apart at the best of times and a ball would certainly not be the place to venture a first date.
And then of course it all has to be put aside in the last-minute preparations, but Ignis resolves firmly to make delicate enquiries about whether his feelings might, in fact, be returned, after the ball. Not right after, obviously - these things always have a draining effect on Noctis, and he'll want little more than to get out of his formalwear and into bed. Still it's all he can think about for much of the evening. Through the speeches, through refreshments, even while he makes a token effort of dancing himself with a fellow crownsguard who shares a similar "might as well get it out of the way" attitude. Right up until the moment when Noctis is bravely attempting small talk with an ambassador of somewhere-or-other and Ravus Nox Fleuret - here in his sister's stead - locks eyes with Ignis over a drinks tray, stalks over with his face set in as unpleasant a frown as ever, puts his hand on Ignis' shoulder and murmurs, directly into his ear, what it takes Ignis a few moments to recognize as a room number. So many moments, in fact, that Ravus has slunk off again before Ignis can think to respond. Really. He'd thought they were past all that.
He stands there a moment, blinking, and when Noctis moves back to his side, clearly relieved to have been released from his conversational duties, Ignis speaks without thinking. ]
I think Ravus just made a pass at me again.
Ignis had helped him dress, given that such occasions require full formal gear and there are accessories that hearken back to the days when it would have been unthought of for royalty to dress themselves. Not quite as bad as it once was, but enough that Ignis wants to be there to fasten chains and settle fabric for Noctis so that the prince won't already be at the limits of his frustration before the evening starts. Noct looks very handsome in his formalwear indeed, and he'd thought he was doing a very good job of hiding it right up until Noct broke a stream of grousing about the evening ahead to look up at Ignis from under the thick fringe of his dark lashes and said, soft and low, but you'll be there, right? and let his knuckles brush against the back of Ignis' hand, and Ignis had felt his heart hammering its way up from his chest into his throat with such speed that he worried it would spill out of his mouth the second he opened it.
Of course, Noct, he'd said, after what felt like far too long taken to gather his wits. I'll be there with you. And there had been something delicious about that thought, about phrasing it that way - that rather than being there at the same time they would be there together, though of course they were never far apart at the best of times and a ball would certainly not be the place to venture a first date.
And then of course it all has to be put aside in the last-minute preparations, but Ignis resolves firmly to make delicate enquiries about whether his feelings might, in fact, be returned, after the ball. Not right after, obviously - these things always have a draining effect on Noctis, and he'll want little more than to get out of his formalwear and into bed. Still it's all he can think about for much of the evening. Through the speeches, through refreshments, even while he makes a token effort of dancing himself with a fellow crownsguard who shares a similar "might as well get it out of the way" attitude. Right up until the moment when Noctis is bravely attempting small talk with an ambassador of somewhere-or-other and Ravus Nox Fleuret - here in his sister's stead - locks eyes with Ignis over a drinks tray, stalks over with his face set in as unpleasant a frown as ever, puts his hand on Ignis' shoulder and murmurs, directly into his ear, what it takes Ignis a few moments to recognize as a room number. So many moments, in fact, that Ravus has slunk off again before Ignis can think to respond. Really. He'd thought they were past all that.
He stands there a moment, blinking, and when Noctis moves back to his side, clearly relieved to have been released from his conversational duties, Ignis speaks without thinking. ]
I think Ravus just made a pass at me again.
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but there's no way in hell noctis is asking gladio, and honestly? he has it so bad for ignis that maybe what he really wants is an enthusiastic cheerleader instead of someone who will remind him about responsibility and decorum and bring him back down to earth. so he holds prompto's zealous yeah, dude, ignis is totally into you! close, and tries to build enough confidence around it for the monumental task of Asking Ignis Out.
there's no way he's just imagining all of this, right? the way he catches ignis looking at him sometimes, the lingering notes of things left unsaid at the end of his sentences. and it's not like noctis has a clue what he's doing when it comes to flirting, but he tries -- and judging by the pink that leaps up into ignis' cheeks when noctis lets a touch linger, when he pitches his voice just right, he thinks he might be doing a pretty okay job.
tonight. it's gotta be tonight, because it feels like the air between them is strung with so much anticipation that it's like a bubble waiting to pop. it's great and it's terrible all at once -- this heady mix of exhileration and anticipation and nerves, and the idea that ignis might feel the same way? wow.
figures that it's ravus who ruins it.
noct is knee-deep in a conversation he's trying desperately to extract himself from when it happens -- he thinks person he's talking to is some important businesswoman in insomnia, but he's sketchy on the details. partly because all the hard work of ignis diligently prepping him on party guest info always immediately exit stage right the second noctis is expected to hold a conversation, and partly because she's clearly deep enough into the wine that she's comfortable making jokes about fleas and refugees in front of the crown prince. he's pretty sure that warping himself out of conversation range will be tabloid fuel for months, but he's also pretty sure that he's going to strangle himself on one of these stupid decorative chains --
and then, across the room, he spots ravus leaning close to ignis, putting a hand on his shoulder, whispering something in his ear --
"they make a good couple, don't they?" says lady von dickhead, mistaking noctis' look for something else entirely. "i've always had an eye for these things."
in the end, he isn't even sure what he says to her to finally make his escape. he's pretty sure it was rude, and he's pretty sure he'll hear about it later, but his brain can't focus on anything that isn't a highlight reel of ravus whispering in ignis' ear. (and isn't whispering to people in public rude!!! isn't ignis the one who's always supposed to care about that stuff!!!)
he isn't even sure how he ends back up in ignis' vicinity again, except for the fact that he's some kind of pitiful piece of space rock caught up in the forces of teenage-crush gravity. he really wants to do nothing but make the fastest exit possible and spend the rest of the night facedown on his couch and nursing his stupid bruised feelings -- how many dudes does ignis have whispering to him on a daily basis? five? ten? a hundred? and noct was over here tripping over himself, flirting and thinking ignis was into it -- ]
Congrats.
[ it comes out about a hundred times more sour than he means it to, and he immediately just wants to stuff the words back into his mouth. ]
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