hello, my friend

[blindsider]

[ Ignis wakes up smiling.

It's... presumptuous, maybe, given Noct's state of intoxication the previous evening, but he's just got a feeling. When they'd held each other, when they'd kissed - it didn't feel like a drunken mistake. It felt like magic. It had been very difficult to decine Noct's offer to join her and instead sleep in his old room. He hasn't been entirely cautious about it, though – when Noct wakes, she'll find at her bedside a bottle of water, two ibuprofen, and a little note that simply says I love you.

In the meantime, he's in the kitchen. The curtains are open to let the late morning sunshine stream into the apartment in ribbons of gold, he has the radio on low, and he's dug through the drawer full of “novelty” aprons he's been gifted over the years (delicately avoiding the one covered in pictures of cuts of meat fresh from the grill and emblazoned with EAT MY MEAT) and donned one Noct bought him, bright pink with bossy bitch in curling script across the chest. He won't cook the eggs until Noct is awake – they're not something that improves for keeping – but in the meantime there's a tremendous pile of crispy bacon stacking up, hashbrowns cooking to golden deliciousness, and a small pitcher of juice squeezed fresh from imported oranges.

Worst case scenario, if Noct wakes up mortified and full of regrets, she at least won't have to be embarrassed and hungry. ]

Comments

[linkstrike]

Yeah.

[ and to prove it, she holds up one hand, showing the little scrap of paper still pinched in her fingers. but! even though she's almost positive she's got her answer, this is a Very Important Matter. clarification is important! ]

But you know what they say... actions speak louder than words.

[blindsider]

[ He can't quite tell whether Noct is being coy, genuinely seeking confirmation, or some combination of the two. It's a little unnerving, after so many years of being constantly in each others orbit, feeling that he knows Noct better than he knows anyone - but it doesn't really matter, does it? Because either way, the answer is the same. He strokes a thumb over that cheek, ducks his head to kiss her, something soft and gentle, and -

and to hell with it. It's a reckless thing to do when he's determined to do this properly, far too close to some of his fantasies for propriety, but he shifts his hands to her hips to pick her up, and from there it's only a step and a half-turn to sit her on the kitchen counter and press in to deepen that kiss. ]