I'm gonna walk right across this town

[blindsider]

[ It is the evening of the last day of exams, and Ignis Scientia has no choice but to party. He's earned it, really, after a year of hard work and some blisteringly challenging exams which he suspects he's done well on nonetheless. So he goes, and he has fun. There's drinks, and dancing, and then more drinks in a different bar with a different sort of dancing. His friends seem determined to visit as many different bars in one evening as they can manage, which is fine by him. The brief walks from bar to bar serve as a kind of interlude in which everyone has to take a brief break from drinking, if not actually sober up.

As the evening wears on Ignis has his first blue drink ever and his first on-fire drink ever, a process for which he is handed a plastic straw and urged to imbibe the drink through it “quick, before it catches fire too”. He loses a button from the top of his shirt, recaptures his glasses after a small woman with hair dyed the bright orange of a free-range egg yolk puts them on and walks away, eats a chicken wing handed to him by a stranger and is dragged into the women's restroom in order to participate in an animated discussion about whether one of his friends should go home with the young man who is so clearly trying to convince her to do so. And it's fun, it really is, but the more he has to drink (and the more he dances, and the more he sees his friends making out with one another or people they've collected on the way, though he's too drunk to make that connection now and will be too embarrassed to do so once sober) the more he just misses Nocts. He receives only minimal bullying about leaving early, and the cab ride to Noct's apartment building – unfortunately – is not sufficient to sober him up. The result is that he's not remotely quiet when he lets himself into Noct's home, humming to himself as he makes multiple unsuccessful attempts to unlock the front door before finally getting it open, and loud when he calls out as he cheerfully steps inside, hair fallen down from its usual vertical style and a smear of glitter rubbed over one cheekbone. ]

Evening!

Comments

[linkstrike]

[ when ignis talks to him like that, like all these dates are something he's planned out for ages, it's stupidly hard to remind himself that it's not just the drink talking. and it almost aches, because he'd like so very much to believe that it's real, but --

then ignis says breakfast in bed, and it's very fortunate that noctis doesn't drop him.

instead, he just snorts a laugh to cover up the way the words make him fluster, shaking his head a little as he moves into the bathroom of his room. he doesn't feel great about settling ignis down to bed without making sure that he takes a proper look at the cut on his leg, which means... awkward or not, the pants are probably going to have to go. ]

You're gonna have a hard time putting the moves on me if you bleed to death, Specs. You think you can let me take a look?

[blindsider]

I could haunt you. There was an episode of that old science fiction show where the chief medical officer was haunted by a sexy ghost. And good for her, I say, Beverley dealt with a lot of crap on that ship.

[ But Noctis sets him down and Ignis obediently unfastens his belt and his trousers, apparently too busy fondly remembering television shows that aired before he was born to make much of a show of it. ]

He turned out to be an alien, though. A rather malicious one, in fact.

I can promise you I'm all human under here.

[... maybe not so well-behaved after all. He even hazards a wink, which is not his forte at the best of times, and in his current state probably looks more like a minor stroke than a sexy and flirtatious move. ]

[linkstrike]

[ noctis has maybe 2% of an idea what ignis is talking about, but it doesn't matter. focusing on the matter at hand is the best idea when he's helping to work ignis' pants down around his ankles, aggressively trying not to look at anything but his knee. ]

You're human, all right. Pretty sure robot butlers don't bleed this much. [ and then he's standing and rummaging through the medicine cabinet ignis always insists on keeping fully stocked, trying to call to mind every bit of combat medicine gladio ever crammed into his head. ]

[blindsider]

[ The robot butler joke is not a new one, but Ignis chuckles anyway as he kicks his trousers off completely. They felt silly, just hanging there. ]

Beep boo-fuck.

[ The quiet, hissed curse is because Ignis, in his drunken wisdom, has taken Noct's temporary absence as an excuse to investigate the wound on his own - a process which rather stupidly involves placing his thumbs either side of the wound and pulling to investigate how deep the cut is. Rather deep, as it happens - the skin pulls apart and offers a somewhat alarming glimpse before it fills with blood again, and hurts like the dickens besides. ]

Butterfly stitches, I think. They should be... hm. Well, they should be in there, even if I don't quite recall where.

[linkstrike]

[ okay, fuck, he is not going to practice that particular skill on ignis. he's only had a couple of lessons at it with gladio -- enough to keep himself alive in a pinch, but there hadn't been much point in focusing on specifics when magic was expected to do the brunt of the heavy lifting. ]

I'm -- I can't --

[ shit. ] Listen, I'm gonna try something, okay? Just hang tight.

[ because healing magic isn't his thing; it runs in his bloodline, but the true power of it has always resided within the oracle. still, ignis needs his help, and he's never tried tapping into the power when it's a situation like this. so... he presses both hands over the wound, ignoring the warm stickiness of blood against his palms, and closes his eyes. tries to reach into that place inside him where all the magic comes from, shifts aside the more familiar channels to the armiger and his elemancy, and...

nothing.

but he pushes down on the frustration before it can distract him, and digs deeper. leans forward until his forehead is resting against his hands, summoning up the mental images of luna he keeps tucked away, safe and secret. the sound of her voice as she told him stories about the gods, the way she always smelled of sylleblossoms when they'd sit close together, and... the touch of her hands, cool and gentle against his skin, spilling warm golden light into the poisonous scars left by the marilith.

he thinks about their last letters, when he'd spilled out just how much he cared about ignis. how scary it was to admit that he wanted to be more than just friends, all the hundreds of little reasons why he liked him so much it made his chest ache. and he thinks about how sweetly she'd advised him to follow his heart; how a friend like ignis wasn't likely to leave his side regardless of how he might feel in turn, and how dearly she wanted noctis to be happy.

and just like that, it's almost as if some searching part of him brushes against some glittering piece of her, tucked deeply inside. he can feel the magic spill out of him before he can even think to control it, and he opens his eyes just in time to see the last of a warm golden light fading away from his clasped hands. when he lifts his hands away, the skin underneath is bloody but whole, and --

he doesn't even get a second to congratulate himself before the force of expending even that little bit of unfamiliar magic takes a bite out of him, making him drop back flat on his ass as the world tilts unevenly beneath him. ]

[blindsider]

[Noct's magic feels wonderful. He's felt it before, of course - little hints of it doing the necessary to draw weapons from the armiger, the training that will one day lead to them being able to fight tighter than any normal unit, and to draw on Noct's magic to wield elemental spells. This is nothing like that - it's a warm, golden thing, liquid honey spilling through him, making him feel safe and valued. Cherished. When Noct's hands pull away and Ignis looks to his knee, the wound is gone, and his voice is a whisper of awe - ]

Highness -

[ before Noct falls to the floor and all that wonder hardens into concern. Ignis moves quickly, worry seeming to sober him up in rather a hurry as he managed not to collapse on Noctis as he moves to his side. He fits himself behind Noct's back instead, taking the weight of his body, hands stroking over his arms. ]

Are you alright, Noct? Sorry, silly question. What can I do to help?

[ Given his behaviour so far tonight - this morning, really - putting his trousers back on might be a start, but he's not that sober. ]

[linkstrike]

I'm cool, I'm cool, I just --

[ which is right about the time his mind catches up to the fact that he's very nearly in ignis' arms, and that the other man still isn't wearing pants. so whatever he's about to say is lost to a little flustering noise, feeling the heat bloom upwards from the nape of his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. ]

... got dizzy for a sec, no big deal. [ and if his voice is about two octaves higher than usual, he's praying that ignis is too drunk to notice. ]

[blindsider]

I'd argue that it's a very big deal indeed. That was beautifully done.

[ He'd be brimming with pride anyway, but with all the alcohol coursing through him it's magnified to a frankly ridiculous degree. He wraps an arm around Noct's shoulders from behind, cradling him, and presses a kiss into his hair - not the faintly lecherous kiss of earlier when he still thought he had a shot at talking Noctis into bed, but something born solely of pride and affection. Noctis healed him. Noctis drew on his healing magic, for him. No vile energy drinks necessary. He sighs happily for a moment before he releases Noct and moves to wet a washcloth, returning to wipe the blood from Noct's hands with only a bare minimum of weaving in his steps. ]

After that, I think we definitely need to get you into bed.

[linkstrike]

Hey.

[ which as much of a protest as he can manage, letting ignis wipe his hands clean like he's a toddler with jam on his fingers. ] I'm s'posed to be the one taking care of you.

[blindsider]

You did! You did very well.

[ He beams at Noctis, carefully wiping his hands clean before he gives his own bloody but miraculously healed knee a desultory swipe and throwing the cloth aside to clasp Noct's hand in his own. He means to use it to help Noct up, but he can't resist just holding it for a moment. ]

One day I'll work up the courage to tell you what I want is for us to take care of each other. One day when I'm not pissed, and you'll believe me. Come on, up we get.

[linkstrike]

[ oh.

it's probably stupid for something like that to have such a profound effect on him, but he feels the heat flush into his cheeks all over again. it seems very unfair that ignis can undo him with such a simple sentiment, but... it's such an earnest thing that it twists his chest into knots. ]

Yeah, I'd -- [ with a touch of shyness in his voice. ] ... I'd like that too.

[ and if he keeps his hold on ignis' hand even after he's been safely helped back to his feet? it's important to make sure that ignis doesn't lose his balance and stumble, that's all! ]