Actions

Work Header

catus ailments

Work Text:

“Hey, it’s not all bad! I mean, look at how cute you are!” Prompto manages around a puff of laughter.

It comes out half-panicked, half-delighted because he has to squat to be able to say it to Noct’s face.

Noct, who is currently a very pissed off little black cat.

Noctis yowls something distinctly indignant and bounces up to paw at the hand Prompto had been reaching down to pat him with. It’s only by the graces of Prompto’s reflexes that he avoids the arc of Noct's claws, a flash of clean white inside black fur. But Noct’s momentary frustration seems to pass as Prompto falls back on his ass with a breathy laugh, and the expression he wears on his little cat face as he turns to Ignis is wide-eyed desperation.

“Don't look at me like that, Noct,” Ignis starts, pity and panic swirling in equal measures on the edge of his tone. “I wasn't aware daemons could turn us into creatures other than frogs, either. And all our curatives seem ineffective for this particular...ailment.”

“Hey, no need to get nervous,” Gladio says in a soft, placating voice as he crouches beside Noctis with an amused look on his face. Noctis eyes him warily, but allows the big hand to stroke over the puffed up fur of his back. “I can see your hackles rising, literally, but you’re getting all worked up over nothing. Just cause you’re a cat and not a frog doesn’t mean this is going to last forever. We killed that daemon, so it’s just a waiting game until you turn back.”

Noctis doesn’t look pleased with the development, but he’s definitely relaxing under the steady strokes of Gladio’s hand.

That is, until, he starts to purr five minutes later and the noise seems to startle him out of whatever daze Gladio had worked him into and back into the reality that he is still a cat. He lets out a displeased, rumbling meow and swipes a paw at Gladio’s hand.

“I get it,” Gladio laughs, withdrawing his hand. Prompto gets the distinct impression this has happened to him a lot.

“Well, regardless,” Ignis says, tone still dancing on panic as he squats down to address Noctis, the set of his brow and tight line of his mouth far too serious for someone talking to a little cat. “We ought to wait this out somewhere else. It wouldn’t do to stay here for long, especially since we don’t know what kind of daemons inhabit these parts.” He looks distinctly concerned as he says, “Perhaps there are more that can inflict a… condition such as this.”

Noctis gives a rumbling meow, displeasure and urgency evident in just the noise, and starts bounding off in the direction of their car.

Gladio grunts something like, “Wait!” and runs after him, always the King’s Shield.

That leaves Prompto with Ignis, who turns to him with wide eyes. There’s a moment between them, a shared resignation. A shrug that might as well be a “I guess this is what we’re doing.” if it were spoken out loud.

Then they follow at a light jog after Noctis, only to find Gladio untangling him from a bush that he’d run into.


“Prompto, could you sit properly?” Ignis grumbles as Prompto’s heel smacks against the glove compartment of the car.

“Why won’t he sit with me?” Prompto whines, undeterred, and leans farther over the seat.

“You listening to yourself?” Gladio smirks with a raised eyebrow. In his lap, Noctis sits curled in a figurative and literal cat nap. He's protected from rolling around by the circle of Gladio’s huge hand and forearm. He looks comfortable. “Desperate. Cats don’t go for desperate.”

“And why is he ok with you?” Prompto asks instead, trying and failing to keep the bitterness from his tone.

“He kept sliding out of the seat,” Gladio answers just as Ignis says, “Gladio has a very warm body.”

Prompto turns to raise an eyebrow at just Ignis, who's suddenly very focused on the road.

“I mean, he's not wrong,” Gladio laughs, maybe nervously, maybe not. “Iris used to get mad at me all the time because our cats preferred sitting in my lap over hers. Can’t blame a guy for running hot.”

“You had cats?” Prompto asks because that is new information.

“Several,” Gladio says, perking up visibly as he puts down his book and gently jostles his phone out of his pocket without disturbing Noctis in his lap.

In a few moments, Prompto’s thumbing through an album of at least seven distinct cats (maybe more), some blurry and some not, doing any number of mundane things from sitting in someone's lap to playing with toys. Gladio is talking about them, Gladio hasn’t stopped talking about them, but Prompto can barely pay attention now that the image of a cat sleeping on top of Gladio’s huge sword that he apparently used to take home from work is burned in his head.

“Huh,” he murmurs, absent-minded as he takes in another picture of another cat on another sword. “You know about these cats, Iggy?”

“How could I not?” Ignis deadpans, but Prompto can hear the slight quirk of his lips even if he doesn’t see it. "I received the pictures.”

“You ever meet them?”

“Once or twice,” Ignis muses, off-handed, and Prompto feels the car lurch slightly as it begins to round a turn.

Prompto hums, kicking his feet as he scrolls through the pictures faster as if that will somehow manifest the picture he wants to see now that he knows Ignis and Gladio’s cats have shared the same space once or twice .

Then he comes to a realization.

“How come I never got to meet them?” he asks, sudden and offended, and rounds on Gladio in the backseat.

Gladio gives him a half-grin and puts a hand up in mock surrender. Just one hand. The other is still tucked around Noctis. “Gonna be honest here, Prompto. Didn't want to damage my rep.”

“Oh, totally,” Prompto says. He doesn’t roll his eyes but he makes sure his tone makes the same point. “Me knowing you had cats would have really done a number on your reputation as the most shredded guy I knew.”

Gladio laughs and Noctis grumbles quietly in his lap.

“Well, that, and-” Gladio smirks for emphasis. “You seemed like a dog person.”

“A dog person, huh?” He laughs. He’s not sure if Gladio meant it as an insult, but his mind wanders to the puppy that set him on this path and brought him this far. In a way, she was his first friend. “Guess you could say that! It's not like I don't like cats, though. They're definitely just as cute!”

He emphasizes the last bit by leaning over to run fingers as softly as he can over Noct's sleeping head. He rumbles in his sleep and his ears twitch, but he pushes his head up to meet Prompto’s fingers the next time they pass over.

Cute. Prompto grins to hold down the delighted giggle bubbling up from his chest.

He pulls the camera up from where he’d stashed it and snaps a picture as quick as he can. He’s glad he did as soon as Noct’s ears perk at the sound of the shutter and he rears up on Gladio’s lap with a grumbling meow. He snaps another picture as Noctis readies a paw to bat at the camera.

He doesn’t get the chance to though, because the car comes to an abrupt halt.

Prompto hears a startled yelp as Noctis tumbles off Gladio’s lap and somewhere onto the floor of the car.

“Ignis?” Prompto manages, after only just rescuing himself from being thrown from his seat.

“Company,” is Ignis’ terse response.

And sure enough, they’ve got it. Somehow, over the buzz and novelty of Noctis being a cat, he’d missed the buzz and novelty of an airship circling their car, lowering to hover just far enough above the ground for the MTs to drop from the deck in a series of sickening creaks and cracks.

“This is not a good time,” Gladio starts, sounding the closest to panicked Gladio ever gets. “Iggy, can you turn us around?”

“I can certainly try,” Ignis murmurs, turning in his seat as he sets the car into reverse.

He doesn’t get very far in his efforts before he’s interrupted by a herd of very pissed off spiracorns who have decided to cross the road at this very inopportune moment.

“This is really not a good time,” Prompto echoes.

“We can’t very well fight with Noctis, er-” Ignis’ eyes flick to the spot on the floor where Noctis had fallen. “With Noct in this condition.”

“Then we’ll have to run,” Gladio says, determined. They both nod in response. “Closest haven is about a mile in that direction, right?”

“R-right,” Prompto gulps.

“Ignis, you got the keys?” Ignis nods. “I’ve got the cat.”

But just as Gladio says it, just as Gladio pushes open the door, there’s a displeased yowl from the back seat and a little black cat darts from the car. Prompto scarcely has a chance to notice the streak of black against the concrete before there’s suddenly a flash of blue light and a weapon, familiar and manifested from nowhere, crashes into the closest MT.

“He can use the Armiger?!” Prompto squeaks, as Noctis, Prince of Lucis, Heir to the Throne, and very small black cat, uses the Armiger.

“Apparently,” Ignis huffs, sliding out of his seat.

“Not for long,” Gladio notes, urgent. He slams his door shut and points a finger to Prompto. “Grab him and go. We’ll hold them back for as long as we can.”

“R-right!” Prompto yelps and vaults over the car door, even though he isn’t sure why he’s being given this task.

He sprints towards the fray, tracking the flashes of blue light. All things considered, Noctis seems to be holding his own. Two MTs are actually down for good, based on the way they sputter and start to dissolve in the daylight. For half a second, Prompto sees a little black form floating in the air, wreathed in ghostly translucent weapons. Then the weapons crash into a row of MTs and the little black form falls back to the asphalt.

The black asphalt.

“Noctis?!” he calls, hands out in front of him and ready to scoop up the prince-turned-cat as soon as he spots him. He runs as quickly as he can, half-squatted as he is to be closer to the ground.

“Prompto, watch it!”

He ducks at the sound of Gladio’s voice only just in time to avoid the arc of a blade over his head from an assassin he hadn’t even noticed approaching him. He hears a grunt and the clang of metal and resigns to trusting his back to Gladio as he darts about the battlefield, hands still out.

“N-Noct?” he tries again, panicked.

There’s a flash of blue light in his periphery and he turns to find something small and glowing blue, a ghostly afterimage of a cat. He just manages to catch a flash of black against the asphalt as it darts past him and towards the outskirts of the battlefield.

“Prompto!” he hears Ignis, voice strained with effort. “There! Can you see him?”

And Prompto can. Now that he’s spotted him, it’s harder to mistake the sleek black sheen of fur - and the small patch of white on the tip of Noct’s tail - for the coarse asphalt.

“N-Noct! Come back here!” he hisses, watching the cat leap about, moving with desperation and urgency as he dodges falling blades wherever they strike.

He watches in both awe and horror as Noctis darts up a blade to kick an MT with his two small back feet before flipping back to the ground. It’s a really cool thing for a cat to do. Either way, as Prompto rushes forward to try to scoop up Noctis, Noct seems to react to the chaos of the movement in his periphery and looks as panicked as a cat can look before darting off and away from Prompto.

“Noctis, wait!” he calls. “It’s just me!”

But as Noctis starts to hesitate and slow down, Ignis comes from nowhere, rushing forward in a half squat with both hands stretched towards the ground. It would have looked comical if it didn’t startle Noct into running in the other direction again.

“Ignis!” Prompto grates out in frustration.

“Sorry!” And to be fair, he really does sound sorry.

Then, before he has a chance to find Noctis in the chaos of battle again, he hears the clack of hooves against the pavement as the spiracorns trot over to enter the fray and pulls out his gun as he prepares to watch things go from bad to worse.

The first of the spiracorns nearly bowls Prompto over at the speed its going and he’s grateful that it catches the MT that was coming up behind him instead, but its hooves are loud and heavy against the pavement and Noctis is, at the moment, very small and very low to the ground.

He freezes, at a loss for what he can do.

The battlefield is now so congested he risks running into the path of a spiracorn or the blade of an MT wherever he goes. He’s afraid to use his gun except at close quarters because if he misses, he might shoot Ignis or Gladio or Noctis, who is currently so fast and small that Prompto can’t track him to avoid him.

He’s shut in, there’s way too many cooks in the kitchen, so to speak, and there’s a little cat just barely ankle high that happens to be the prince of the entire country.

An MT swings an axe over Prompto’s head and he falls to a crouch as he dodges it, panting and panicked and overwhelmed, hands shielding his neck and mentally preparing himself to go for some kneecaps.

Then three things happen near simultaneously.

The first. Prompto distantly notes the sound of a spear going over his head. Ignis, likely, picking up his slack.

The second. Prompto finds Noctis, just a few feet ahead of him, back arched and tail fluffed, eyeing the MT above him with wariness and fear.

The third. Noct’s eyes, wide with panic, start to spark and glow pink.

“Oh my god,” he breathes.

And sure enough, not a moment later, a large hand suddenly descends upon the battlefield, crushing an MT and knocking a spiracorn to its side. Prompto watches, eyes wide, as Noctis blinks, bright pink flashing against the blackness of his fur, and his little cat expression shifts to something like relief as he darts onto the outstretched palm of an actual god.

“He can summon a god?!” Prompto shouts around the taste of ozone as Ramuh rises above the battlefield, ominously backdropped by a darkening sky.

“Apparently!” he hears Ignis shout back.

He startles at the feeling of a firm hand at his neck, readying his gun before realizing it’s only Gladio.

“Move it, Prompto!” he shouts. “Unless you want to be collateral damage!”

“Cat-lateral damage!” he adds, with a wobbling smile to match his shaking voice.

He hears Ignis huff something like laughter, but Gladio only rolls his eyes and shoves him forward. The three of them dash as quickly as they can out of the fray they’d only moments before rushed urgently into. Prompto feels as much as he hears the crash of lightning behind them, the pinpricks of electricity against his skin, but they’re far enough that they don’t experience much more than that.

Prompto skids to a stop after that crash, turning to face the now charred battlefield and the god towering above it.

If he squints, he thinks he can see a tiny cat face peering down at them. He doesn’t need to squint to hear the quiet, distinctly displeased yowling coming from the heavens.

“Put himself up there, but can’t get down,” Gladio grumbles, shaking his head. “Classic.”


“Noct, what you did was really stupid,” Gladio starts to scold in a tone he’s never used to scold Noctis before.

Prompto has the sneaking suspicion it’s the very same tone he used to use on his cats, which would have made things surreal if he wasn’t already scolding Noctis (with the tone he used with his cats) in a battered battlefield as Noctis (still a little black cat) was in the process of leaping down from the hand of a literal god.

A little mew escapes him as he lands on the asphalt, and it’s as cute as the rumble of displeasure he makes in the face of Gladio’s scolding. He pads pointedly past Gladio and towards the car, making little noises all the way, as Ramuh starts to dissolve behind him.

“Not so fast,” Gladio scolds, scooping up Noctis as he passes by - who squeaks just a little at being jostled so suddenly - and tucking him under his arm so that he’s facing the direction Gladio clearly wants him to face, based on the way he’s leaning down to make sure Noctis is looking as he points towards the setting sun. “See that? We’re not gonna make it to Lestallum anymore with the sun that low. We’re going to walk to camp and you’re going to stick with one of us until we get there. Got it?”

Noctis, tucked neatly under Gladio’s armpit, grumbles an affirmative.

“Good,” he grunts and drops Noctis unceremoniously to the ground.

“Gladio!” he hears Ignis shout, echoing the panic Prompto himself is feeling, but Noctis lands easily enough on his feet with another little huff of air.

“What?” Gladio asks as Noctis sits at his feet, head tilting.

“D-don’t just drop him like that,” Ignis wheezes.

“He’s a cat,” Gladio shrugs. “He’ll figure it out.”

Noctis meows an affirmative, circling where he was dropped in what seemed to be an effort to reassure Ignis and Prompto that everything was working fine. Then he gets up to sit pointedly in front of Gladio, tail flicking idly.

“You want me to carry you,” Gladio says, sounding resigned.

Noctis meows.

“All the way to camp.”

Noctis meows again.

Gladio rolls his eyes, but seems pleased by this development as he crouches down. “Fine. Get on, then.”

Noctis purrs as he scampers up Gladio’s arm to rest like a scarf around his shoulders, the white tip of his tail flicking back and forth in front of Gladio’s chest. And just like that, as if everything was completely normal, Gladio sets off to camp.

Prompto turns to Ignis, fully prepared to share another of those “I guess this is what we’re doing.” shrugs, only to find him with that warm, indulgent smile that was getting rarer and rarer these days. He blinks, finding himself smiling something small of his own in turn.

He guesses the sight of a fluffy cat on Gladio’s broad shoulders was pretty cute.


“Can I hold him now?” Prompto asks for the third time, circling Gladio as they make their way - a little slowly, on account of Noctis being a cat - to camp.

“Does he look like he wants to be held?” Gladio says, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean, he looks pretty happy up there.”

And he does, curled up around Gladio’s shoulders. He looks comfortable, even though he’s eyeing Prompto like he’ll bolt if Prompto tries anything.

“Because he’s being carried,” Gladio says, matter-of-factly. “It’s different.”

“Well, I can carry you, buddy!” Prompto tries, jogging up to Gladio and pointing to his shoulders. “See?”

Noctis looks away from him pointedly, his little cat body tense as he flicks his tail back and forth. Prompto feels snubbed.

“Looks like the verdict’s out,” Gladio huffs a laugh.

“Noctis, do you hate me?” Prompto wheezes. Noctis whips his head around, his kitty expression incredulous. “Ok, but are you mad at me? Is it because I called you cute?” Noctis grumbles and looks away from Prompto again. "So it is!"

Gladio chuckles. “Looks like someone’s too embarrassed to accept the facts. You're pretty cute, Noct.”

Noctis grumbles again, standing up. Prompto can see a flash of white claws against Gladio’s shirt as he starts to knead Gladio’s shoulders mercilessly. Gladio, to his credit, seems completely unfazed by Noct’s efforts, which persist until Ignis happens to pass by close enough for Noctis to transfer over.

“O-oh!” Ignis stutters, coming to a halt as Noctis starts to make himself comfortable on his shoulders. “Yes, hello there, Noctis. Are you, ah, settled? Is it alright if I move?”

Noctis meows, tucking in his feet into Ignis’ neck. His tail flicks back and forth and he sends pointed glares to Gladio and Prompto from over Ignis’ shoulder as they pass.

“Really?!” Prompto whines. “That should have been me.”

“I’m telling you,” Gladio says around a laugh and a knowing smile. “Embarrassed.”


“So,” Prompto starts, leaning on the table where Ignis has started to do prep work for dinner. “What’s for dinner?”

He’s here just as much to try to cuddle with Noctis - who Ignis has surprisingly allowed to sit up on the table with him - as he is to find out what they’re eating.

The past few hours of camp have passed uneventfully, and the panic and novelty of Noctis turning into a cat have simmered down to something like acceptance. This is the longest any of them have been under the effects of something like this, but the sun dips lazily below the horizon and none of them find they have the energy to deal with it until tomorrow morning.

So they’ve all just come to terms with Noctis being a cat.

Including Noctis.

Especially Noctis.

He purrs contentedly and watches as Ignis carefully cuts a fillet of some fish he’d caught when he was still a person and either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care when Prompto leans in to press against his side. His soft, furry, purring side.

Prompto only just manages to swallow down the “So cute!”

“Something with fish, I suppose,” Ignis says, absentmindedly. He pauses. “That. That is what cats eat, right?”

“Well, yes and no,” Gladio answers from where he’s setting up the campfire, before Ignis can start to panic. “Chicken would be better, but this is temporary and this cat is also Noctis. He’ll like fish just fine.” Noctis meows an affirmative. “Just make sure you cook it first.”

“R-right,” Ignis says, sounding hesitant. “Of course.”

“And no vegetables,” Gladio adds. “Cats are carnivores.”

“Lucky you!” Prompto says with a grin as he nudges Noctis gently. “Getting to skip the veggies!”

Noctis huffs a little at being jostled, but he seems distinctly pleased and purrs on, his soft-looking paws subtly starting to knead against the table. Prompto tries to sneak his hand closer for the chance to squeeze one of his paw pads. But before he can try, Ignis chuckles.

“Maybe you are better off as a cat, your highness,” he teases, reaching over to scratch underneath Noct’s jaw. Noctis purrs and leans into the touch. “Just know you’ll be making up the difference when you’re back to normal.”

Noctis rumbles with displeasure, and gets up to jump off the table and join Gladio by the fireside.

And, ignoring the knowing huff of laughter from Ignis, Prompto follows.


Noctis sits in a chair to eat dinner.

Ignis had initially tried to put the food down where Noctis was already laying by the fire, but Noctis had meowed in protest, jumping into one of the chairs until Ignis had relented to the possibility of cleaning food stains off the seat and set his plate down next to him. Noctis always was something of a social eater, and he never did like being treated differently.

Either way, Prompto’s chair is now very close to that chair. Close by design. Close enough to hear the rumbling purr and quiet noises of Noctis eating. It’s insanely cute.

“Don’t bother him,” Gladio chastises around a mouthful of grilled fish. “Eat your own food.”

“But he’s so cute,” Prompto hisses, just above a whisper.

Noct’s ears perk up anyway, and he makes a rumble of displeasure and starts to eat his food faster, his entire body tense.

“Aw, buddy,” Prompto pleads. “Don’t be like that. I don’t get what your hangup with being called cute is. You’re a cat right now, dude. You gotta know, cats are really cute.”

Noctis only acknowledges him by rumbling louder, ears twitching, but he does seem to relax a little and isn’t quite so determined to finish his food and walk away.

“And you’re still pretty cool, you know?” Prompto adds. “Even as a cat. Man, I wish things weren’t so hectic back there in that fight. I think I could have gotten some pretty good pictures!”

It’s half-truth, half a shameless attempt at bribery, but Noctis seems to take the bait. His rumbling is far less irritated and his ears twitch forward as if to say, “Oh? Tell me more about how cool I was.”

“Yeah, dude,” he says. “Who would have thought you could use the Armiger, even as a cat!”

Noctis meows, pleased with himself, and something great crosses Prompto’s mind.

“Hey, can you still warp?”

“Prompto,” Gladio warns, but it’s too late.

Noct’s ears twitch and curiosity is easy to read in the sudden alertness of his eyes. He stands up, wiggling his haunches ever so slightly as he points himself in the direction of where Ignis left the knife on the fold-out table.

Then - in a flash of blue light - he’s gone, leaving behind a clattering dish.

A moment later, he appears on the table, digging his claws in to slow his momentum. He stops himself just before he falls off the edge, and moves with a careful calm and nonchalance as he seats himself beside the knife, looking proud.

“No way!” Prompto breathes, delighted, and pulls his camera out. He may have missed plenty of opportunities for pictures, but he wasn’t about to miss anymore. “Do that again!”

And Noctis does. Again and again, while Prompto takes pictures. He seems to think he’s being very cool, and Prompto thinks he’s being very cute, but everything ends when Noctis accidentally warps off the haven and meows desperately when he finds he can’t climb his way back up.

He sulks for the rest of the evening after Gladio pulls him back to safety by the scruff of his neck with a sly, “Curiosity killed the cat, Noct.”


Secretly, Prompto had been hoping the entire evening - the entire day, even - that Noctis would stay a cat long enough for them to go to bed.

This was partly because it would mean they all had more space to stretch out in the tent. But it was mostly because Prompto was really hoping Noctis would be open to cuddling with them, specifically Prompto, when he curled up to go to sleep. It was kind of a pipe dream, but it was one that Prompto clung to after seeing how open Noctis was to climb around Ignis and Gladio’s shoulders and how content he looked napping in Gladio’s lap.

But as the evening drags on and Prompto lies awake and alone in his sleeping bag, playing some King’s Knight to tire himself out, he’s beginning to realize that it’s just that. A pipe dream.

He sighs, perhaps a touch heavier than the situation warrants, but after carrying that hope and expectation, it’s kind of lonely, in a silly way. Gladio’s already snoring behind him, and Ignis has gone quiet in his sleep in front of him, but Noctis is nowhere to be found, probably curled up in some corner of the tent.

Not a moment after he’s resigned himself to nodding off alone, he feels the telltale pressure of little paws crawling up from the foot of his sleeping bag and towards his head.

He tries to reign in his excitement and delight as Noctis nudges under his arm to curl up against his chest, warm and soft and rumbling quietly. Tentatively, he moves his arm up around Noctis, and when he doesn’t hear any meow of protest, he gathers him up a little closer until he’s a warm weight on Prompto’s chest.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispers, voice a little hoarse from the lateness of the hour. “Can’t sleep?”

There’s the quietest squeak from the bundle in his arms and Prompto finds himself yawning, everything buzzing about in his head starting to quiet down as he focuses on the warmth of Noctis on his chest.

“Me either,” he says, but it comes out slurred and tired.

He has just enough time to wonder if Noctis is getting tired before sleep takes him.


Prompto’s not sure when he wakes up.

He just knows it’s way too early and something is off.

That something being the sudden weight of Noctis who - after being a cat sleeping on his chest last night - is no longer a cat, but still sleeping on his chest.

If this was later in the morning, if Prompto was more awake, he might have been embarrassed to wake up like this. So close to Noctis, so suddenly.

But as it is, Prompto only finds Noctis a little heavy where he is, half lying on his chest and cuddled close at his side, but still warm and comfortable. As it is, Prompto only feels relief that Noctis seems to be sleeping soundly, his expression peaceful and his breaths even.

As it is, Prompto thinks that Noctis is still pretty cute.

He doesn’t have enough time to wonder what that means before he’s drifting off again. 


The next time he wakes up, it’s definitely later in the morning.

He can tell by the way he can see the red in Noct’s face in the light coming through the opening of the tent.

“Morning, dude,” he says, still groggy after being pulled from sleep by Noctis jostling him in his efforts to get up quickly. “I see you’re a dude again.”

He watches, still half-asleep and amused, as Noctis turns a deeper shade of red.

“S-sorry,” he stutters and darts out of the tent, narrowly avoiding Gladio who had just come in from his morning run.

Gladio, upside down in Prompto’s vision since he still hasn't bothered to get up, raises an eyebrow. Then something triumphant flashes in his eyes and he jerks a thumb in the direction that Noctis ran.

“Cat got his tongue?”