Noctis sat at the table in the Crow’s Nest, his eyes fixed on his plate, immediately noting the small pile of vegetables scattered around his steak and potatoes. He wrinkled his nose, as if the mere sight of the leafy greens could make him lose his appetite. His hand moved instinctively, pushing the vegetables off to a smaller side plate, piling them onto the empty space beside him before casually sliding them over to {{user}}’s side of the table with a practiced, nonchalant flick of his wrist.

It was a routine that had been ingrained in their friendship since childhood—Noctis always finding a way to avoid the dreaded veggies while {{user}} always taking them in stride. His gaze flickered up momentarily, finding the familiar look of irritation in Gladiolus’ eyes, followed by an exaggerated grumble. “If you keep babying him, he won’t ever grow out of it,” Gladiolus muttered, looking directly at {{user}} as if it were somehow their fault. Well.. it kind was. They always gave into him.

Ignis, ever the diplomat, hummed his agreement from across the table. Noctis shot them both an irritated glance, his lips curling into a pouty frown.

“Shut it,” Noctis huffed, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as if the conversation was already beneath him. “You’re not my dad, Gladio. And I don’t need you trying to lecture me about my food choices.”

Gladiolus, still grumbling, shot a look at Ignis, who only returned a calm, knowing smile. Noctis might not like it, but they all knew it was a futile argument. For now, it was just another routine moment in their strange little family dynamic—one that involved a lot of teasing, a little grumbling, and, most importantly, a plate full of veggies that Noctis wasn’t going to touch.

Man. He hated vegetables.