push my mind around as if it's warming up your hand

[blindsider]

[ Ignis has been thinking.

In general, he's very happy. With Noctis, in particular. They've fallen into something sweetly familiar, and he cherishes the ease with which they can just be together – sharing a meal, or curled aganst each other on the couch while Astra does her best to interrupt their respective study, or (especially) when they're intimate. It's not what he'd call predictable, which implies something dull and staid, but it's warm and wonderful and easy as breathing.

There is one thing, however, that is definitely predictable, and it bothers him.

Noctis is – obviously – the single most gorgeous thing Ignis has ever laid eyes on. Not because of his features (splendid though they may be), but because of the light of expression that moves in him. It doesn't seem like so very long ago that Noctis was sullen and withdrawn, hiding so much of himself behind a facade of detachment, and seeing Noctis relaxed, or animated, or flushed with pleasure has an effect on Ignis that he couldn't have predicted back when his affections seemed like something to be carefully ignored. It fills him with warmth to see Noctis unfurling in his presence, to know that he feels safe enough to be unguarded. To be himself. It makes him almost heartbreakingly beautiful.

And if he ever tells Noctis as much, he's rebuffed with the predictability of a thrown stone falling back to earth.

It is not, perhaps, the best plan he's ever had. Still, there's the desire there to show him. The belief that if only Noctis could see what he sees, he'd understand. And Noctis has always been more receptive when he's getting something he wants. To Ignis' great joy, what he wants is often Ignis. So that is how the idea forms: He purchases a very large mirror, and moves it into Noct's apartment while the prince is out. Into his bedroom, specifically; directly opposite the bed. Noctis is generally pleasingly open to new things, and unlikely to take a lot of convincing on the matter. Then Ignis' role is simple. He'll bring Noctis to that point he so loves to see, flushed and wanton and beautiful, and let him see too. If the whole process fails to convince him, then at least they'll have enjoyed themselves getting there.

And if he's 75% certain Noctis will insist on having the mirror removed after the fact, well. That's a problem for tomorrow's Ignis. For now he's sitting on the end of Noct's bed, dressed in clothes he knows Noctis enjoys both the look and feel of (and with buttons he's prepared to take sole responsibility for), and sending one very simple text message. ]

I'm in your bedroom.

Comments

[linkstrike]

[ it's probably more than a little rude to ditch prompto so abruptly at the arcade, but there's a pretty firm hierarchy of priorities in noctis' life. ... and it just so happens that ignis texting him i'm in your bedroom ranks astronomically high on the list, so. he and prompto exchange fistbumps, promises for a rain check, and then he's off.

even once he's home, he only stops long enough venture into the living room and disturb astra's afternoon lap for a quick scratch behind the ears -- and then he makes a beeline for his bedroom, not even bothering to shed his blazer or schoolbag. after all, the novelty of ignis booty calling (texting?) him is thrilling all on its own, and he's impatient to see what kind of mood might have inspired ignis to skip his usual afternoon duties and go straight to... that.

and, okay, ignis is still fully dressed when noctis throws open the door to his bedroom, but... it's ignis. expecting him to be naked and spread eagled on the bed or something was probably a bit of a stretch. still, ignis is dressed in an outfit that noctis really likes (and he's pretty sure ignis is knows it, too), and his stomach is already fluttering with anticipation as he takes the first step directly towards him.

-- and then promptly freezes, because the movement out of the corner of his eye was enough to catch his attention. he isn't expecting to see a giant mirror there when he turns, and his expression immediately shifts to confusion, nose wrinkling and brow furrowing. ]

... this isn't about to be a lecture, is it? [ because he's fully prepared to make a break for the door. ] I mean, I know my hair's gotten a little long, but it's not that bad, and these pants are only kinda wrinkled, so --