Amoosed
Title: Amoosed Fandom: FFXV Pairing: Regis/Clarus Rating: Gen Word Count: 543 Summary: Silly, fluffy fic for the dialogue prompt "Alright. It's fine. I just don't understand why among all the mugs in the store you had to get THAT one." :DD A/N: I did another super fun speed prompt writing challenge the other week, this one with my darling friend @moonraccoon-exe, this is one of the results ♥ Please enjoy <3 (AO3)
“Alright, but. This is the worst, Reggie.”
“I assume by ‘the worst’ you do mean ‘the best’, right?”
Clarus is covering his face with his hand but Regis can tell by his body language, the silent huff of air he exhales and – ah, yes – the slight tug on the corner of his spouse’s lips that he can see behind that hand... Clarus is more amused than annoyed.
“Clarus.” He is close to stretching the a in his name and Clarus can hear Regis’s pout. Ah, the merits of being together for over thirty years already...
“Just look! Isn’t it the most adorable chocobo mug you’ve ever seen?” Regis is holding up the mug carefully, turning it around as if to showcase it to Clarus again as if he hadn’t already begged him at the shop to let them take this one home. (It really was an adorable chocobo-shaped mug, with an attached head and tail feathers and all. The poor shop assistant’s eyes had boggled at the sight of the former king on his knees in front of his shield nevertheless.)
“Reggie, you already got me to admit as much but you know very well that this isn’t what I am talking about.”
Regis puts the chocobo mug down and raises an eyebrow at him. Oh, he could fool almost anyone with his innocent look. Foreign dignitaries if need be, the poor guard many years ago who had scurried inside upon hearing ‘worrisome noises’ from Regis’s bedchamber- the amount of people Regis’s innocent expression is able to fool are many. But not Clarus, who knows him better than himself most of the time.
Clarus, who decides that moment that he would have to admit defeat and just let it be.
“Alright. It's fine. I just don't understand why among all the mugs in the store you had to get that one, but... it’s fine."
When Regis actually gets up early some mornings later to surprise him with breakfast and coffee in bed (Clarus long learned to continue sleeping when his body realized it was just Regis getting up), he finds himself face to face with the mug again. The one that is so ridiculous he can’t help but snort and then barely avoid spilling the hot coffee on either himself or their bed sheets.
There’s a chicken on the mug, looking at him sideways. And a text, declaring “Sorry, I can’t stop chicken you out.” What tops it off, however, is the mirrored sideway glance Regis is giving him over the rim of his own mug of tea.
“C’mere, you silly old man.” Clarus has put his mug aside and is pulling him close to himself barely a second after Regis had chance to do the same, breathing in the scent of croissants and coffee and sleep that has caught hold of the man’s pajamas.
“You truly are one of a kind. And that mug is awful.”
He is joking, though.
“As are you, my dearest. ...that’s why I can’t help but chicken you out, after all.”
The last part comes out muffled because Clarus had seen this coming and decided then and there that shutting Regis up with a kiss (or two) was the best way to deal with his love’s puns.
