Ignis was typically considered the less likely to jump at the idea of revenge, out of the four of them, and often considered the “least fun” of their group. It wasn’t a designation that bothered him, he was practically born responsible. It was why he’d fit in so well as a royal advisor even from such a young age.
But in this case, it was self-serving just enough to make him feel a little guilty. The punishment wasn’t as much of a punishment as it could have been, knowing exactly where Gladio and Noct’s brains went with the idea, but Prompto likely had no idea to what extent their imaginations roamed.
What was proving the most difficult was keeping his hands to himself. That had never been a problem back home, but Noctis and Gladio spoiled Ignis now, checking on him frequently when he was in the kitchen, distracting him during nearly every meal. Prompto was different, and Ignis couldn’t just pin him to a counter like he could with the others. He could, however, work next to him with small touches, gentle glances, steady hands. On more than one occasion, he’d let his fingers graze Prompto’s when passing over a knife, or touched his friend’s hip when he skirted around his friend.
All friendly gestures on the surface, but felt a little shameless deep in his gut. Ignis turned from his station in front of the stove to give Prompto a sideways look. “For the full range of this punishment, we may have to go with beer instead of a nice Cabernet Sauvignon, but I’ll leave that judgement call up to you. What do you think?”
If the situation had been anywhere resembling normal for them, Prompto probably would have lost steam on his revenge journey about halfway through and relented on his punishment of the other half of their friends group. But he was still feeling off balance and Ignis had come in to team up with him more easily than it should have been so…he went with it. And he was getting a certified fancy Iggy meal out of it, so he had little reason to question it or complain.
Though he was surprised that Gladio and Noctis hadn’t popped up to make dumb faces at them until they gave in and let them join them for dinner.
“I mean, are we trying to punish them or us? I think we should go with what the chef recommends,” Prompto said, as he looked up from his chopping duties with a bright grin. Which was precisely when he lost focus and his knife sliced his finger. “Ow!” The knife dropped to the cutting board with a clatter and blood bloomed on his index finger from the cut on the side of it, spilling onto the veggies he had been cutting for their garnishes.
Ignis chuckled quietly and nodded. “You bring up a good point, they were the rude ones in the first place.” And he had a very good bottle that would match the meal chilled right now. But all of that focus was lost as soon as he heard Prompto yelp.
It wasn’t his first or dozenth kitchen accident, and Ignis was moving even before the blood started dripping. He pulled a clean hand towel out of the nearby drawer and was at Prompto’s side in a flash. “Here, let me.” With gentle ease and sure hands, Ignis wrapped the towel around Prompto’s finger and held tight.
And then he remembered the very moment he and Gladio had been in this situation, before their lives became romantically entangled, and Ignis’ face flushed deeply. He tried to cover it up by being as casual as possible, “One of my best knives, I should have warned you it could go through fingers like butter. Are you alright?”
Prompto couldn’t remember how many times a daemon or something had hurt him worse than a dumb kitchen accident like this, but somehow, this relatively small cut was the one that had him acting out. “It hurts,” he whined, hissing a bit when Ignis increased the pressure on his finger to stanch the flow of blood.
It was why he missed how red Iggy suddenly had gotten, how that maybe he had something to do with that.
“It was my fault,” he admitted, kind of feeling pathetic. “I should have been paying attention to what I was doing. I know you keep your knives in good shape.” He scratched the back of his head. “Guess that teaches me for getting smug about this revenge thing.” But he finally noticed Iggy’s flushed face and he reached out with his uninjured hand to brush a thumb across the older man’s face. “You okay? You usually don’t get squeamish about blood.”
Iggy snapped out of it with a little shake of his head. He didn’t throw Prompto off, but he did keep a hand firmly on the cloth covering his injury. The touch probably made him even more red, which was a problem that he would have to learn to deal with later. Blushing was certainly going to get him in trouble through all of this, if the goal was to make sure Prompto was comfortable and stayed sane in a place like Vallo.
“No no, nothing like that. I’m fine, just--” He certainly couldn’t tell the truth. But as he looked down at the cloth and pulled it away to see how the wound was doing, it wasn’t an outright lie to shake his head again. “I haven’t had to see you get injured in quite some time. I don’t like it, for any of you, but sometimes I just look at things and-- reminders flood in.”
Oh good job, Prompto. Bleed all over the place and trigger bad memories for one of his best friends. Dropping his hand, he let Iggy examine his hand and said, “Sorry. I know it’s never great being reminded of those times.” And what he knew would probably be hard times in the future as well. “I’m okay though? At least I didn’t cut a finger off, right?” He smiled, trying to take Iggy’s mind off whatever bad thoughts were swirling up there. “We can just wrap it and I’ll keep it clean for the next couple of days. It’ll be fine!”
Using his other hand to reach over to squeeze Iggy’s shoulder, he added, “We’re okay here, right? That’s the most important part, try not to focus on the bad days.”
Ignis huffed out what might’ve been close to a laugh, and nodded at Prompto’s gentle, helpful nature. “Good advice, Prompto.” He reached up to squeeze his friend’s arm in return, in a hopeful bid to reassure. “It’s alright now, the moment’s passed.”
He closed the cloth back over the wound and put Prompto’s hand there to hold it, his fingers grazing over that hand for a brief moment before he turned away. “And very lucky for you, Noctis is quite clumsy and I happen to keep a first aid kit here in the kitchen.” He pulled it out from it’s drawer and held it up. “I can’t do much for the vegetables that are now bloodstained, but the prime rib should still be delicious.”
Shivering at the brush of Ignis’ fingers over his hand before he was released, Prompto put it off to his blood loss. He was always so appreciative of Iggy’s gentle, nurturing nature, wherever even dumb mistakes like this were treated with a care that other healers could take notes on for their own bedside manners. Maybe it was because they had been in each other’s orbits for years by this point, but it still felt like it was more somehow. But it was probably just Iggy’s innate goodness that he was basking in the glow of now.
“I don’t know if I’d say it’s really all that lucky for me that our boy’s a klutz, but can’t really complain about having first aid administered this quickly. You think I’ll get a fun scar?” Prompto asked as a joke, leaning back against the counter and holding the blood stained cloth over his hand firmly. He didn’t wait for Iggy’s answer when he breathed in the delicious smells of the prime rib that was beckoning to them from the oven and said, “You’re spoiling me, but I’m okay with that. I can’t wait to dig into that steak, Igs.”
“I’ll be sure to mention the good fortune to him later, he might even say you’re welcome,” Iggy replied with a dry tone. “But we take care of each other in this household, always and forever. I’m just beginning to think I might have to start putting first aid kits in every room.” It was easier to focus here, on this one task, than it was to think about the fact that he was about to crowd Prompto up against the counter.
Astrals. He couldn’t even blame Gladio for this thought process. Ignis typically had a much better hold on his emotions, years of practice in keeping everything contained and neat, perfectly hidden from the worries that he’d give too much away by looking at Noct for too long. Prompto had wormed his way right in along that before too long, and now Ignis was walking towards him with antiseptic and bandages.
When he reached Prompto, he pulled back the cloth and took to cleaning it with methodical care. “What constitutes a “fun” scar, exactly? Should it be shaped like something?”
Antiseptics sucked, but Prompto bit his lip to keep himself from whining about it when Ignis went to work. Chewing on his lip, he gave thought to fun scars and admitted, “Okay, can’t really get a cool one on your finger, but an eyebrow scar is always pretty cool looking.” Did that happen to line up with the scars on Gladio’s face? Maybe. But Prompto didn’t realize that right away, as he began to describe the Shield of the King’s scars in detail. “You know what I’m talking about, right? When they go like…right down this way,” he used his free hand to mimic the scar that ran from eyebrow to cheek on Gladio’s face. “And chest scars are kind of hot.”
But then looking at Iggy, he realized there were some other kinds of cool looking scars he was fond of. “And scars that you get from protecting the people you care about, are just about the coolest ones there are.” There was an undeniable amount of respect and admiration in his tone as he locked eyes with the older man.
As Ignis was now intimately aware of the scars in question on Gladio’s body, he gave Prompto a knowing smile. He’d already been beyond fond of them, especially now that he could tactically run a finger over the raised skin anytime he pleased. “I can agree to all of those, I’m afraid I don’t think this one will make the cut.”
A deadpan joke helped cover up the embarrassment and modest dodge he had to do when his own scars were referenced. He wasn’t vain about them by any means, but it brought that telltale embarrassed flush back. How easy it would have been to lean in, but ever the one to shy away from taking chances, Ignis cleared his throat as he finished wrapping the bandage around Prompto’s finger. “If you’d like, we could conjure up a story about how you were protecting me from a falling knife.”
Prompto smiled again, the uncharacteristic seriousness of his last words dropping away. Prompto was awful with his own confidence and he wouldn’t begrudge Iggy his own insecurities until he wanted to talk about them. In the meanwhile, he could only just keep reminding the man how great he was. “They’re going to believe that as much as they’d believe ninjas breaking into this place and trying to steal the steaks,” he snorted, as he flexed his finger as much as the bandage would allow and wincing a bit at the sting. But it was a lot less than before, when there hadn’t been consistent pressure on it.
Reaching over, he picked up the trash that had been made from getting him cleaned up and bandaged and slipped past Iggy, his hip brushing the other blond’s. “Let me get this cleaned up and maybe you can cut up the rest of the veggies?”
“As if either of them would dare to suggest ninjas wouldn’t break in to steal my food.” Ignis puffed out his chest about one of the few things he did take pride in. As if on cue, Ignis’ stove timer went off and he gave Prompto’s shoulder a squeeze before he disappered across the kitchen to pull the prime rib out of the oven.
Before he could regret giving Prompto a timetable that might make him rush, Ignis looked at him over a shoulder as he reset the timer. “It has to rest for a full thirty minutes and not a second longer, Prompto, so your time starts now.”