AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14969156/chapters/35015495
Ignis checked his watch once again. His date was now twenty-six minutes late. After ten, he tried calling. Then again at fifteen and twenty. The call was never answered. His texts were never answered. He frantically checked all his reliable news sources to see if there had been a traffic accident or some other reason to put him behind schedule. Nothing.
Worry and anger warred in Ignis’ chest. Five minutes was the most he had ever been late in the past. This was now minute twenty-seven, and still, there was no sight of him.
The roar of a motorbike engine cut through the typical city noise and Ignis lifted his head with a scowl. Honestly, how could people enjoy making that much noise on purpose? Shaking his head, he checked his phone once again, hoping to see a new message.
And that engine was coming closer. His head throbbed.
His date was now twenty-eight minutes late.
Ignis looked up to find the motorbike was racing in his direction. Cutting through traffic and weaving around cars, visible from a block away. It sped toward him, slowing as it neared, only to pull into the single empty parking space within sight. Right in front of Ignis. The rider cut the engine and sat up.
Ignis’ jaw dropped. He knew those boots. Those jeans. Those legs. “Prompto! Where on Eos have you been?” He peeked at his watch. Prompto arrived at 4:29 PM, twenty-nine minutes late. “And why are you on Miss. Altius’ bike?”
Prompto pulled the shiny black helmet off and shook out his hair. He tossed Ignis a sheepish, apologetic grin, but remained seated on the bike. “Crowe let me borrow it. Cool, right?”
Nostrils twitching, Ignis crossed his arms as he remained rooted to his spot on the sidewalk. People flowed around him as they walked to their destinations.
“I’m sorry, Ig! I have a good reason, I promise!” Prompto’s cheeks flushed as he directed a pleading stare at Ignis.
The man huffed out a breath and approached Prompto. “Does it have something to do with the mud caking your boots and knees?” He asked, eyes roaming over the blond. His gaze locked on the unusual paunch of Prompto’s leather jacket. One brow arched suspiciously.
Without speaking, Prompto held the paunch with one gentle hand and lowered the zipper of his jacket with the other. “I couldn’t leave him, Ig.”
Curled up inside Prompto’s jacket was a tiny, shivering, mud-crusted ball of black fur. After a few seconds, it lifted its head, sticking his tiny, glistening nose out and blinking the bluest eyes Ignis had ever seen in the glare of sunlight.
All of Ignis’ anger fizzled away, and he sighed. Extending a cautious hand, he allowed the puppy to smell him.
“He was stuck in a storm drain grate. I think his front paw is broken or sprained or something.”
“We’d best get him to a vet, then,” replied Ignis, giving the little beastie a smile when it licked his hand.
Prompto perked up. “Really? You’re not mad about our date?”
“It’s difficult to be angry when you’re so sweet and selfless,” Ignis answered, kissing the man’s cheek as he pulled out his phone to find the closest veterinarian.
