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Day 17: Rain
“Oh damn,” Prompto says, dropping the cheap plastic gun from eye level, shoulders relaxing now that all of the hostile aliens are dead. He looks to the painted ceiling tiles of the arcade, watching as the fan art of various video games, anime, and idols smile down on him. Prompto closes his eyes for a minute, listening to the heavy beat on the roof. “It’s really coming down out there.”
“Hm?” Noctis stares as him as though he’s in a daze, and then looks at the ceiling. He tilts his head; “Oh shit, I didn’t even notice.” Noctis sighs, lowering his gaze back to Prompto. “Ignis is gonna have my ass, I didn’t bring an umbrella.”
Prompto grins wide and spins the green plastic gun in his grip--
And it shouldn’t turn Noctis on, but it does--
--and he slides it into its holster on the side of the big sci-fi shooter machine, thin fingers flying over the screen to record his nickname—ChocoBoi57. Prompto turns to Noctis, still grinning, and waggles his eyebrows playfully.
And each time that Noctis thinks that Prompto can’t get any more adorable, somehow he does;
“Fear not, your Highness,” he says, dramatically bowing low. “It’s my turn to be your knight in shining armor.”
Noctis wants to say, I’d want you even if you were wrapped in tin foil .
Prompto turns and squats; Noctis tries not to look at his skinny, pert rear, but ultimately fails; and when Prompto stands up, Noct’s arms are crossed and his eyes are studying the dirty neon carpet like it holds all the world’s secrets.
“Hey,” Prompto says.
Noctis looks up; his face is pink, but he’s hiding behind a bored, aloof expression.
It's a good thing Prompto can read him like a book. “What’s wrong?” he winks. “Are you thinking of me in a full suit of armor, now? I bet I’d look wicked cool.” Noct’s pretty mouth ticks up just slightly at the corners, and Prompto knows he hit the bullseye.
“Something like that,” Noctis murmurs.
Prompto laughs brightly and draws out their saving grace from his satchel on the ground—a small yellow umbrella, with white outlines of cartoony chocobos on the weatherproof fabric. “Ta-da! See, we can save the royal hairdo after all.”
Noctis snorts, but he drops his arms and slides his hands into his pockets. “Thanks man.”
“No problemo, buddy.” He clears his throat, then rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Y’ready to go?”
Noctis slides his phone from his pocket; there’s already a text from Ignis asking if he’s ready to be picked up. Noctis types back a short message, pocketing his phone again. “Sure.”
“Cool. But...” His face falls. “I guess if Ignis is coming to get you, you could just wait inside, huh? Don’t need my umbrella after all.”
“No, I told him I’d walk home?”
“Huh?” Prompto tilts his head. “But Noct, you’ll get soaked out there. I mean it’s really coming down--” The overhead lights flicker at that exact moment, deep rumbles of thunder echoing around their gaming haven. “Yikes!”
“Apartment’s not too far,” Noctis shrugs. “C’mon, we can make it.”
“O-on second thought, my umbrella is really tiny, I dunno if we can fit--”
“Prompto.”
Prompto swallows down the inevitable goosebumps that come with Noct’s husky commands—when the prince talks, he can’t help but hang on every word, especially when he’s being told to do something.
Ah fuck—he's got an authority kink, doesn’t he?
“S-sure, then.”
“Yeah,” Noctis confirms spinning on his heel. He picks up his schoolbag from its resting spot on a nearby stool, and meanders towards the door.
Prompto scrambles to his feet, following.
His heart is echoing his pounding footsteps; his old sneakers are soaked to the sole, worn-out socks doing little to protect his feet from the achingly cold rain water that’s collected on the bustling downtown sidewalk. Prompto and his prince are linked arm in arm, squished as tight as humanly possible; Noctis clutches his bag to his chest with his free hand; Prompto’s poor bag slaps his back as it flaps freely in the rain, chaotic in its movement; he’s clutching the compact chocobo-print umbrella in his other fist, chest heaving, breathing hot and heavy into Noct’s personal space as the boys keep pace with each other, dodging civilians and hanging hard turns as they take shortcuts through dark alleys. They even hop a couple of fences, and Prompto somehow manages to keep the umbrella over Noct’s head while his own head gets drenched.
But Noctis is laughing the whole way, joyous with reckless abandon, and it’s infectious; for just a moment, Prompto inserts himself into one the many slice-of-life anime series he’s seen, pretending that he and Noctis are actually a couple, doing fun, normal stuff like getting caught in the rain, pretending that Noctis isn’t the most unattainable man in the whole fuckin’ world--
Prompto shakes himself back to reality, and Noct’s giggles ebb into breathlessness as the finally approach his incredibly average apartment building. They haul ass up the slippery iron stairs, arms looped once again to brace each other against falling; and then they’re slumping against Noct’s unit, soaked and chilled to the bone.
Noctis wouldn’t have his afternoon any other way. He’s still linked arms with Prompto, the other boy’s body heat radiating through his drenched school uniform. Prompto’s hair is limp and flat, long bangs dripping down his pretty freckled cheeks, elven nose, sharp jawline, long eyelashes—and if Noctis were a braver prince, a braver man, he’d press his body up against Prompto’s, right outside his apartment, in full view of Insomnia, and kiss him senseless.
“Oh man,” Prompto pants. He's hyper aware of his arm under Noct’s; but the prince hasn’t pulled away, so neither does he. “I can’t believe you wanted to do that.”
Noctis grins, heat rising to his cheeks. “I, uh...just thought it would be fun. Like a movie or something.”
Prompto stares at him for several seconds before bursting into laughter. “You’re literally the dorkiest man on the planet, I hope you realize that. Underneath that pretty, polished exterior is a goof and a half.”
Noctis thunks his head against his front door and laughs out loud, because it’s so true. With Prompto, he can let go; with Prompto, he can pretend to be normal, and do normal stuff like go to the arcade, run home in the rain, share an umbrella with his best friend--
Noct’s brain catches up.
Underneath that pretty, polished exterior--
“Wait, what?”
Prompto blinks. “What’s what?”
“What did you say?”
“...That you’re a dork?”
“No, no, the other thing.”
“A goof and a half?”
“Right before that.”
“Uh,” Prompto mumbles. He feels his face heating up and fuck Noctis is so close, he’s inches away—if this were a movie, or one of his anime series, he’d lean in and just go for it-- “The, uh, the thing about your...pretty exterior?” he pushes out.
“Yeah,” Noctis breathes, heart pounding double-time. “You think I’m pretty?”
“Ah shit,” Prompto says, squeezing his eyes shut. “I really did say that out loud, didn’t I? Sorry man, I wasn’t trying to be creepy or nothin’, I just...”
“Did you mean it?”
“Huh--what?”
“Did you mean it, Prompto?”
“I, er...well yeah, I meant it.” Prompto smiles shyly, attempting to laugh off his embarrassment.
“Huh,” Noctis says, trying to process this new revelation. He shrugs. “Well, if we’re bein’ honest, I think you’re pretty too.”
“Whoa, whoa whoa whoa,” Prompto giggles, shaking his head. “C’mon man, you don’t gotta lie just because I went and said something super dumb.”
“I’m not lying.” Noctis frowns—and he reaches out to cup Prompto’s damp face, wiping away the water under his wide, indigo eyes.
“N-noct?” Prompto’s breathing stills, searching Noct’s face for any hint of a joke. “What are you--?”
“Can I kiss you?” Noctis whispers.
Oh shit. Did I brush my teeth this morning? Yes. Wait, we had cheesy fries at the arcade, what if my breath smells like-- “You’re...serious?”
Noctis leans forward, pressing his forehead to Prompto’s. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life.”
Something snaps in Prompto’s brain, like a rubber band being pulled too taut—he closes the gap between them and slots his lips against Noct’s, unraveling their arms so that he can clutch at the lapels of his sopping-wet blazer. His brain melts out of his ears when he feels Noctis slide a trembling hand to the back of his neck, pressing his damp hair flush against his neck; it sends trickles of water down the back of his white dress shirt, and he shivers and wiggles, laughing into Noct’s mouth.
The glee only spurs Noctis on more; he tilts his head and tentatively swipes his tongue between Prompto’s teeth; Prompto answers with a moan, and Noctis flushes hot, too hot, from the inside out. He finally pulls away, staring into Prompto’s wide eyes. He swipes his thumb across Prompto’s bottom lip, and Prompto’s tongue darts out to flick his fingertip.
Noctis inhales sharply. “Inside,” he croaks.
“You got it.” Prompto scrambles to his feet, hauling Noctis up; the prince fumbles his key from his bag and flings open his front door, pulling Prompto inside. He slams the door and drags Prompto to his bedroom.
Prompto lets himself get manhandled, giddy with the knowledge that he’ll never see a thunderstorm the same way ever again.