I think you're beautiful.

[Prompto says it breathlessly, the way he says everything he doesn't think about, an answer coded so powerfully in him his body can give it without the fifty stupid checks his brain has to handle. He blinks, and then very gently moves her hair aside, tucks it behind her ear. His expression goes faintly strained and soft at once. He must know how a reassurance like that sounds.]

Remind me to tell you, later. About Ignis. I mean, if you don't believe me. But I...

[Belatedly, he notices his hand's stayed where it was, bent knuckles brushing the side of her face, framing it. She's been looking up at him, and he realizes he hasn't seen anything but her, her eyes, her expression, for quite some time, now.]

I want to kiss you. I'm. ...Gonna do that now.

[And for all his stammering, for all their delays, for every stupid mention of potatoes, when he closes the distance between them in some kind of slow motion, when he cradles her cheek in his palm and presses lips to lips, when I never changes to only with you--

It's all very fairy-tale.]