Noct can, after a lifetime of getting to know one another, recognize even the most subtle micro-expressions that come and go on Ignis's face as he sorts through thoughts, feelings, and no doubt long and eloquent words. This time spent in even deeper, more sensitive intimacy has only proved to be further enlightening, as ironic as that may be considering the state of everything that is not the two of them, and so Noct catches the gentle lift of Ignis's features at the meeting of fingers and lips, thumb and chin. He'd been watching for it specifically, waiting to feel that familiar ballooning in his chest. He only gets lighter as Ignis traces the swell of his bottom lip with practiced precision, then leans to touch their foreheads together, a demonstration of understanding that can't simply be conveyed through the meeting of eyes anymore. If pressed, Noct might admit he prefers this method, taking comfort in the closeness and the trust inherent in that. He breathes in at the touch, like Ignis has put the air in his lungs himself.
The request for help is predictably light; it's not in Ignis nature to demand things of Noct. There's something more to it than that, however, and Noct knows it comes with the territory of asking for assistance with what might be considered more superfluous tasks. Over time, it seems Ignis has grown accustomed to the necessity of appealing to his king for help in retrieving lost weapons or sorting laundry, things that did not sit right before. This, in contrast, is Ignis wanting to do something for himself, and Noctis can sense the hesitance in that bare pause, in the delivery of the words.
"Sure," he says whilst withholding the urge to clutch Ignis's face and tell him that he is not and never has been and never will be a burden. Noct could tell him that having to offer his hands in guidance and support is nothing—nothing—compared to the weight that would have overtaken him had he returned to a world without Ignis at all.
Even if it deserves to be heard and said, that all seems a little overwhelming so early in the morning when Noct's mind and mouth cannot quite be trusted to work in harmony. Later, though, he promises himself as Ignis smiles. In an effort to keep things mercifully light for the time being, Noctis hmm's a flat, opposing note to the concept of enthusiasm. Still, he has every intention of raiding their fridge, but first he takes a deliberate step towards Ignis so that he might stand on his toes and kiss the corner of Ignis's mouth, perhaps in an effort to make this feel closer to how they start most days, or perhaps because he desperately wants to. He pulls back before it can become too leisurely, knowing full well the temptation that even the briefest meeting of mouths can launch.
Doing his best to ignore the cold that conflicts with the warmth still clinging to him from the soft cocoon of their bed, Noct collects up the necessary ingredients, carrying them over to the counter and setting them out in a line just adjacent to the one Ignis has made with his cooking tools. As he goes: "Eggs, ham, half a pepper, cheese. That enough?"
Hopefully so. Their other options consist mostly of pasta and coffee grounds.
no subject
The request for help is predictably light; it's not in Ignis nature to demand things of Noct. There's something more to it than that, however, and Noct knows it comes with the territory of asking for assistance with what might be considered more superfluous tasks. Over time, it seems Ignis has grown accustomed to the necessity of appealing to his king for help in retrieving lost weapons or sorting laundry, things that did not sit right before. This, in contrast, is Ignis wanting to do something for himself, and Noctis can sense the hesitance in that bare pause, in the delivery of the words.
"Sure," he says whilst withholding the urge to clutch Ignis's face and tell him that he is not and never has been and never will be a burden. Noct could tell him that having to offer his hands in guidance and support is nothing—nothing—compared to the weight that would have overtaken him had he returned to a world without Ignis at all.
Even if it deserves to be heard and said, that all seems a little overwhelming so early in the morning when Noct's mind and mouth cannot quite be trusted to work in harmony. Later, though, he promises himself as Ignis smiles. In an effort to keep things mercifully light for the time being, Noctis hmm's a flat, opposing note to the concept of enthusiasm. Still, he has every intention of raiding their fridge, but first he takes a deliberate step towards Ignis so that he might stand on his toes and kiss the corner of Ignis's mouth, perhaps in an effort to make this feel closer to how they start most days, or perhaps because he desperately wants to. He pulls back before it can become too leisurely, knowing full well the temptation that even the briefest meeting of mouths can launch.
Doing his best to ignore the cold that conflicts with the warmth still clinging to him from the soft cocoon of their bed, Noct collects up the necessary ingredients, carrying them over to the counter and setting them out in a line just adjacent to the one Ignis has made with his cooking tools. As he goes: "Eggs, ham, half a pepper, cheese. That enough?"
Hopefully so. Their other options consist mostly of pasta and coffee grounds.