A/N: Ahaha, will I ever stick to one fandom and finish what I was working on? Who knows!
Good day, fellow FFXV fans! You know how that famous quote goes? "Write the content you'd like to read?" And I'm totally paraphrasing to fit my narrative? Yeah. Turns out FFXV has usurped FFIX from it's comfortable, nigh-on 20-year position at the top of my Final Fantasy All-Time Favourites list. And Prompto? Oh man, I've never related to one character more. The weight-loss, the feeling that he's never quite good enough, the desperation to hang on to the people he loves at whatever cost? Yes. Now THAT is one hell of a well-developed character. I won't say any more for fear of spoilers, but I love that little dude with all my heart. So, it's time to torture the poor guy, because that's how we show our love!

This fic was born when I tore my rotator cuff (let's just say an ill-advised clapping push-up was involved), and was grumpily going through Costlemark for the second time. I wanted to explore a life or death situation without the convenience of Potions, but I went too far and had to Deus Ex Machina my way out. Enjoy! Depending on how this is received, I may take requests.

Disclaimer: I have no affiliations with Final Fantasy XV.

Content Warnings: Blood, gore, OT4.

"Hey, Blondie!"

Noct's voice was a gritty rasp, his breath coming in great gasps that looked as painful as they sounded as he rested momentarily on the hilt of his blade. His face was drained of any colour and his arms were trembling violently; a tell-tale sign of magical over-expenditure. Prompto couldn't fault him; they'd been lost in the endless bowels of Costlemark Tower for nineteen sleepless hours, and counting.

'Tower my ass,' he'd grumbled to himself fourteen glowing cube-rides earlier. 'What kind've a tower starts below the damn ground?'

It wasn't as though the Crownsguard were faring any better than the King they'd sworn to protect, either. They had run out of potions some three life-or-death battles before they'd reached the giant dragon currently delivering them a sound beating, and they were all bearing injuries with varying degrees of severity. Ignis was nursing a painful burn that spread from his cheek to his eyebrow, dangerously close to his left eye, after a close encounter with a Red Giant's flaming sword (Prompto had congratulated him on his mad limbo skills as Ignis was cooling the burn with one of their remaining flasks of water. The compliment was ill-received, although the sexual positions Ignis had invited him to go and try sounded pretty interesting in that cultured voice. Painful, but interesting.) Gladio, whilst being strong as a bear and twice as handsome (his words), was not the fastest nor the most flexible member of their quartet, and was currently bulling his way over to shield Noct despite a twisted knee he'd gotten avoiding a Nagarini's fanged kiss.

Prompto himself hadn't fared too badly (cuts and scrapes and a badly bruised ass cheek from a Flan who'd gotten a little too slap-happy and he didn't want to talk about it, thank you very much), but he felt that same dragging exhaustion weighing him down as he responded blearily to Noct's call.

"Uh, that's me, I guess?"

It was fairly obvious as to what Noct was driving at. Their combined assault had disabled the back legs of the giant beast, and it was writhing on the ground with stunned ferocity. Despite the fact that its lethal claws were throwing up sparks as they repeatedly gouged the stone slabs beneath it, Prompto couldn't help but feel a little sorry for it. One of Ignis' daggers had impaled the dragon's lower jaw (that guy had balls), and it seemed unable to lift its head. A quick shot to its armour-plated skull would be a mercy as well as a victory.

The only weapon strong enough to pierce said skull was duly summoned from Noct's arsenal, immediately weighing down Prompto's arms and making his sore muscles sing. He'd been tinkering with the Auto-Crossbow during camp downtime, and had rigged the Niflheim machinery to overload its own circuitry and misfire on command, causing a devastating shockwave that had earlier torn one of those creepy samurai daemons into two twitchy, disgustingly goopy halves. The kickback was hell, he reflected as he rolled his right shoulder with an unhappy wince, but the others were relying on the scrawny blond nobody scraped up from the proverbial gutters to get the job done. The thought spurred Prompto into action, and he dived forward with a yell of exertion.

Two things immediately went wrong.

As he readied the shot and heard the familiar whine of over-heated machinery, Prompto realised that the weapon, instead of sitting neatly atop his shoulder, was resting against the stark curve of his collarbone. He couldn't lift it any higher.

And the dragon was not as immobile as he'd thought.

In the scant seconds between landing and firing, the dragon reared its head, inadvertently sinking a lower fang into Prompto's shin and changing the trajectory of the shot from the vulnerable spot between its eyes to a giant eye itself. Unable to readjust and distracted by the tooth in his leg, oh Gods that hurts, oh shit, Prompto fired.

Compared to the fiery pain in his leg, it felt like nothing at first. A jerk, a crunch barely audible over the appalling shrieks of the dragon as its eyeball exploded and the ringing in his own ears. Prompto was distantly aware of the Auto-Crossbow dematerialising into crystalline fragments and a strange sensation in his right arm that somehow felt like static from a busted radio. He had time to think ew, eye-jelly before the dragon whipped its head to the left, ripping the fang out of the gunner's leg and sending him back-first into the circular wall.

The speed with which the pre-emptive victory whoops of his companions turned to shouts of horror would have been funny if he hadn't been silently offering up the most creatively blasphemous curses he could think of to the Astrals. He'd thought the leg was painful? The splintered agony in his shoulder, chest and back (oh fuck damn Ifrit's chargrilled flaming DICK) robbed Prompto of the ability to move or make any sound other than few gasping barks of pain that were punched from his lungs.

Just pass out, you moron, he thought to himself as giant black spots bloomed at the peripherals of his vision. Just pass out, it'll all stop, you—

Except that he couldn't pass out, because there was a dragon tap-dancing its death throes next to his face and Noctis was yelling and something big and warm caught him around the waist and rolled and oh Six, that unlocked the scream trapped in Prompto's chest. It was a gasping, pitiful thing; a keen more than a scream, but the rolling stopped. Instead, something heavy and pliant settled itself over him, squeezing out a mist of blood and breath from his mouth that he could barely afford to lose.

Prompto had a split-second to recognise the body on top of him (no one can crush me like you, big guy) before Gladio braced his own forearms against Prompto's ears and leaned down to rest their foreheads together. He shouted something that was muffled though his arms and Prompto's own heartbeat in his ears, then somehow squeezed him closer as the dragon crashed through the stone barrier at their sides and finally lay still.

The kid, as Gladio himself had personally verified on numerous intimate occasions, had balls. Sure, he was kinda scrawny, a lot clumsy, and had the maddening tendency not to just listen to Gladio, Noct and Iggy when they tell him just how gorgeous he is, but damn. Two words from Noctis, and Prompto was in the air with a sweet-ass battle cry, ready to blow that Six-damned monster's head off. If they all hadn't been running on fumes by that point, he'd be popping some major adrenaline-wood. As it was, he contended himself by roaring encouragement alongside Noct and Ignis as Prompto lined up his shot with practised ease.

The first indication that something had gone majorly fucking wrong was the change in Noctis' tone. Instead of encouragement, his Royal Sleepiness was crying out in something that sounded like fear, and that, coupled with Iggy's strangled gasp, was so outside of the norm that it had to have spelled disaster. Gladio's own throat burned from the warning (too late, far too late) he barely realised he was yelling as the dragon's fang pierced Prompto's left leg.

The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion. The gunner slipped, altering his trajectory just as the machine fired a devastating blast into the dragon's eye. The impact of the heavy weapon against Prompto's body made Ignis cry out the blond's name in a panic, and Gladio was moving, desperate to jump in and shield the kid before the inevitable happened.

The first step shot a bolt of fire up his thigh from his injured knee, and the resulting stumble had him missing Prompto by scant inches as he was flung into the wall with a terribly final-sounding crack. Gladio could see with stunning clarity the dazed expression just morphing into pain on the kid's face, the way his right arm twisted the wrong way at the shoulder. He could hear Prompto's choked gasps even over the monster's grating shrieks. Stuffing the pain of his own injuries into the farthest corner of his mind as he had been taught, Gladio threw himself at the youngest member of their group. Scrunching his eyes shut and silently praying that he wasn't about to kill the poor kid, he rolled the two of them out of the immediate range of the thrashing beast.

A thin, high whine caused Gladio to snap his eyes open as they settled, just in time to receive a fine spray of red droplets to the face. He had a split-second in which his heart lurched (kid's bleeding inside, oh shit) before he managed to alleviate some of his own weight by leaning on his forearms in a protective arch. The sound of Ignis' fearful yelling (and really, it had to be bad if Ignis was scared) sheared into his consciousness from worlds away.

"—his chest, Gladio, watch his chest!"

"I'm trying!" he bellowed back, horrified when the shout so close to Prompto's face elicited no reaction. An earth-shaking thud shocked him into curling even closer, wrapping the kid up tighter in his arms until his hands were buried in dishevelled blond hair, then all was silent.

Noctis lunged forward ineffectually, his body responding to his attempt to warp forward and snatch Prompto from the air with an emphatic hell no. Instead, all he managed was a sharp cry of his lover's name before Ignis wrapped a steadying arm around his middle. His grip was far too tight.

Noctis barely noticed.

His knees weakened further when Gladio steamrollered the blond out of immediate danger, then locked tight again when Ignis suddenly yelled out next to his ear.

"Watch his chest, Gladio, watch his chest!"

Noctis didn't hear the Shield's reply over the monster's final face-plant into the ground, and scarcely waited for the dust to settle before lurching over to the pair with Ignis' help. His Advisor threw them both to the ground, leaving Noctis to secure himself as Ignis shoved at Gladio's tattooed shoulder.

"OFF."

Ignis' voice was steadier now, but Noctis could see the fine tremor making his movements uncharacteristically graceless as he dived down to cup Prompto's face in gloved hands. Now that the chamber was quiet, small sounds began to filter into Noctis' stricken consciousness; a strained, broken wheeze that was Prompto trying to breathe, and the soft, sporadic chink of his gloves and bracelets scraping across the stone floor as he shook hard. The scraping noises stopped as Gladio and Noctis simultaneously grabbed a hand each; synchronised as usual. Noctis spared a tiny smile for his Shield, which immediately fell as Ignis began to speak.

"Prompto, look at me. Look at me, darling, that's it." Prompto rolled his eyes towards that voice, familiar in its low, soothing cadence, and continued to shudder violently. Noctis tightened his grip.

"I need to see what you've done to yourself," Ignis said, stroking his thumbs lightly along Prompto's freckled cheekbones. "What a mess you are. Haven't I been telling you that theatrics have no place in battle?"

It was heart breaking to hear Ignis try to maintain a tone of gently scolding normalcy; more so to see Prompto attempt to play along with a dazed grin that spilled a thick line of deep red from the corner of his mouth to soak into Ignis' glove. Noctis stifled a sob against the hand he had pulled up to his face, and felt Prom's fingers clumsily stroking his nose in an attempt to comfort him. The Prince choked on a snort, and pressed frantic kisses against his lover's knuckles.

Ignis was talking again, explaining his actions as he performed them and answering for himself the questions that the blond was physically unable to respond to.

"I'm sorry, Prompto, I'm going to need to cut your shirt, is that alright? Yes, I know it's your favourite, though Astrals only know why. And…there. Oh. Oh my. Alright, it's alright, darling. Quiet, Highness, I need to concentrate."

Noctis snapped his mouth closed and looked at the concave ruin that was the right side of his best friend's chest. Gladio, immune to the sight of gore outside of people he cared about, had his eyes squeezed shut. Ignis was still helplessly talking.

"Prompto, can you hear me? Blink once…good boy. You're going to be absolutely fine. No, love, don't close your eyes. Prom. Don't close your—there we go. That was rather a long blink, wasn't it? You cheeky sod. Prom? Prompt—oh bollocks. GLADIO!"

Gladio sprang forward, only to hover helplessly as Prompto's body thrashed in a violent convulsion. Noctis' gaze flickered between his three lovers; Prompto, caught in a vicious seizure; Gladio, biting his lip with panic on his face; Ignis, fury making his eyes almost luminescent.

"Hold him down, Gladio!"

The Shield responded with a voice scraped from the bottom of his lungs.

"I…I can't—where the FUCK am I supposed to touch him, Ignis?!"

"Just…just stop him hurting himself while I hold his head!"

"Hurting himself?! The kid's beat to shit!"

The sound of grinding teeth.

"If you'd rather he die-"

The sound of a fist slamming into stone.

"You lousy son of a-"

The sound of Prompto dying.

"STOP!"

Abrupt, absolute silence. Noctis cleared his throat as the attention of two of his retinue snapped immediately to him.

And immediately choked as he registered what absolute silence actually meant.

"Prompto!" he cried, crouching low over his best friend and immediately recoiling when his eyes made sense of what now lay before him.

Ignis startled slightly as His Highness' voice rumbled over them, easily dwarfing the sounds of he and Gladio's nonsensical quarrel. Shame washed through him at such a useless display, manifesting physically as slight dusting of red over his cheeks. What were they doing, fighting when Prompto was—

Reminded of the screeching alarm bells in the back of his mind, Ignis barely noticed Noctis reeling back as he focused once more on the still head laying heavy in his lap.

Wait.

Still…?

Oh, please no.

Ignis braced himself for the worst as he looked down, and choked. Prompto's eyes were half-closed, and blank. There was blood on his chin. The seizure had died down to a minute tremor in his hands and feet, and his chest was hitching unevenly. Slow. Slower. He was cold.

He's going. We've lost him.

It was almost insulting. They had made it through innumerable battles in this…this piss-bollocking Tower. Not one hour ago, Prompto and Noctis had been earnestly entreating Ignis to let them buy sweets at a nearby Outpost. Gladio had made an inappropriately enticing comment about how he'd 'give them all the candy they wanted'. Noctis had thrown a weak fire spell at his head, and Prompto had laughed so hard at Gladio bemoaning his singed eyebrows that he'd sagged into Ignis, warm and safe and happy.

It was impossible to reconcile that Prompto with the young man dying on his lap, and it was at that realisation that Ignis did something he'd never done before.

He gave up.

Ignoring the desperate, foolish hope of his companions, he gently lifted Prompto into his arms and settled him against his chest, and his shirt was already filthy, but it could have been cleaned, but now it's ruined and focus, you fool, you've got a few more minutes at best. He wanted to make sure that Prompto was comfortable and loved in his last minutes (what are you DOING, there has to be something you can do, there's nothing, nothing you can do, oh how I loved you), but the movement caused a flicker of discomfort and a small sound. Prompto's brow creased, then smoothed out as Ignis pressed his lips to the blond's forehead.

"Hush now, love, hush. Don't be frightened. You were magnificent."

Ignis drew a shallow, hitching breath.

"You can let go, my darling. It's almost ov-"

"What the fuck are you saying, Ignis?!"

Ignis startled and jostled the precious boy in his lap, provoking a short whine. He tore his eyes from Prompto and met Gladio's furious expression with all the empathy he could muster.

"Gladio-"

"Don't you 'Gladio' me! What kinda shit was that? You're tellin' me you're gonna give up on him? On Prompto?!"

"Gladio, I-"

"No, I don't wanna hear it. You need to quit this weepy goodbye bullshit and fix the kid. Now!"

"Gladiolus."

"Fix. This. Ignis!"

"Listen to me, you overgrown brute. We cannot move him. We have no curatives. Even if we did, they would be useless because most of his Six-damned ribs are out of alignment and they would stay embedded in his lung. I am trying to make his last moments as peaceful as possible because there is NOTHING ELSE I CAN DO!"

Those last, broken words seemed to stun the whole room into silence. The only sounds were the roaring of Ignis' blood in his own ears and the faint gasping of the body in his arms. Until—

"Fuck that."

Ignis looked sharply at Gladio, but the larger man's gaze had whipped to the side. Following it, the advisor came face-to-face with his enraged King. Noctis' eyes, though still weeping, were lit with a pinkish glow, and fury transformed his boyish face into something truly regal.

It was…alarming, to say the least.

"Give him to me, Ignis."

Still rigid with shock, Ignis found that he couldn't obey. Noctis growled, and knocked his advisor's arm out of the way.

"Hold him still, then."

With that, the King laid his hands upon the gunner, and closed his eyes. To the amazement of his conscious retainers, a brilliant glow settled around his hands, then sank slowly into Prompto's chest. They were aware that Noctis had the ability to provide a quick pick-me-up in battle; they all shared that ability through their link to his powers. Never before, though, had they seen it used outside of battle and when Noctis' magic was so severely depleted. Ignis and Gladio watched, spellbound, as the obvious deformity of Prompto's ruined chest slowly became…less obvious. The gunner's body shuddered with the sensation of ribs moving back into alignment, and Ignis gripped him tightly, praying, hoping…

His heart leaped in his chest when Prompto suddenly gasped, and his eyelids fluttered. Simultaneously, Gladio lunged forward and broke the connection with Noctis. Their Royal Majesty blinked, and his face crumpled into a sob.

"Please tell me it worked," he whimpered, and fainted into Gladio's waiting arms.

Voices.

Anger, fear, grief.

Movement.

It jolts, jerks, grinds splintered bone into flesh.

Pain. PainpainPAIN please stop it stop it HURTS.

Someone is talking. Their voice should be smooth, rich, soothing.

It's not.

Dizzy. Can't see.

Someone is talking. Their voice should be rough, brave, loving.

It's not.

Movement again.

Please, it hurts. Don't touch me. You're warm. I love you. Let me sleep.

Fading.

It's nice. Like a blanket.

Someone. Someone is…talking? Their voice should be lazy, warm, amazing.

It's…

It's going.

Don't go. I don't want to go. Let me go.

I'm—

The pain slammed back into Prompto's freshly awakened awareness, and it felt like being hit by a train. Something burned, like a thousand angry wasps were swarming inside his veins. He screamed at the wasps to stop, for someone to help, for his lovers to step in and save him from being eaten alive, but he wasn't screaming loud enough; he was at the bottom of a well and there were things looking at him from the top and their eyes were needles and he was strapped down stop stop STOP.

It stopped. Everything was dark and hot and pulsing with pain, but the wasps were gone and Prompto could breathe. He gulped down a breath of musty dungeon air and almost swooned at how sweet it tasted. He gasped again, and sounds began to sift through the ringing in his ears. There seemed to be some kind of commotion above him. Someone was crying.

Noct!

It took almost everything Prompto had left to pry his eyes open, but Noct was crying, and nothing was allowed to make his best friend sad. Official Crownsguard rules, and a crucial part of the Best Friend code to boot. Prompto would've climbed out of his grave to make sure Noctis was happy.

(He had no idea how close that was to the truth.)

Instead of seeing Noct in distress, he was greeted by a pair of moss-green eyes covered by a film of watery tears. And glasses.

Wait a minute, Ignis was crying?! Holy shit, something bad must've gone down. Prompto pushed himself up, but found himself moving a scant two inches before his body protested the movement violently. A coppery taste flooded his mouth as blackness ate across his vision, and he was fairly sure breathing wasn't supposed to involve quite so much full-body contortion. Eventually, the tide receded a little, helped along by something unbelievably soft stroking his mouth and chin. Prompto wondered if he'd fallen asleep curled up with his chocobo again, whether it was Starburst's reddish-orange feathers tickling his face. He couldn't open his eyes; they'd been glued shut or something, but that was fine. He could still hear.

"…you're alright, dear heart. Let's get you cleaned up, then we'll get out of this bloody hellhole. You can sleep a little now. You'll be alright."

Prompto didn't really want to get cleaned by a chocobo – in his experience, it involved a hell of a lot more beak than strictly necessary. He groped about with his working hand until he found something warm and solid, and patted it feebly.

"S'ok, Star, 'm alright. Don' peck me."

Someone gripped his hand hard, and Prompto fell into soft darkness with the sounds of two sets of voices stifling hysterical laughter to keep him company.

Try as he might, Gladio couldn't help getting caught up in the wave of somewhat maniacal chuckling that followed Prompto's heartfelt reassurance. He tried not to jostle the sleeping Prince cradled in his arms as he stuffed bloodstained knuckles in his mouth to stop the bubble of hysteria waking his unconscious charges. Astrals knew they could use the damn sleep.

A small choking noise drew his attention to Ignis, who was laughing and wiping a hand over his face simultaneously. Gladio felt a combination of relief and affection settle heavily in his chest as the advisor brought his stained handkerchief back down to the bloodstains around Prompto's mouth, still giggling faintly.

"Ooh, Prompto," Ignis said on an exhale. "You really do keep me on my toes, love."

The incongruity of that statement after the sheer fucking terror of the last hour had both of the older men stifling snickers again, which were only spurred on by Noctis rousing himself just enough to frown and smack Gladio in the eye. Eventually the shudders and muffled gasps calmed down enough for the Shield to look the Advisor in the eye.

"Wanna blow this shithole?"

Ignis huffed. "As distastefully as that was put, yes I do. Are you alright to carry Noctis?"

"You gonna get Prom?"

Carefully, Ignis gathered Prompto into his arms, tucking the kid's head gently under his chin, and stood. Gladio whistled his appreciation. He was lucky enough to know what Iggy was packing under that stuffy suit.

"Don't look at me like that, you insatiable behemoth, he barely weighs a scrap. Pick up Noctis and let's get out of this bloody place."

Gladio complied.

Warm. Warm, cosy, and with the kind of heavy contentment that came from snuggling in a giant pile of blankets and his boyfriends, no matter how much Gladio tried to complain and stuff Noct in his armpit. His Shield was totally a secret snuggler. Ignis was much the same; he tried to protest that he had too much work to do to submit to the Royal Octopus, but Noctis knew that once the advisor was pulled in, he would spread out with the lithe, lazy grace of a big cat, and nothing short of a daemon attack (or a saucepan boiling over) could dislodge him. Noct snuffled happily into the nearest warm body. The nostalgia factor was sending him back to sleep nicely.

Speaking of, part of the cosy 'It's Cold and I have Nothing Urgent I Need to be Doing' lethargy could be attributed to the quiet buzz of Ignis and Gladio's voices somewhere overhead. It reminded him of those satisfying days at home in the middle of winter, when none of them had any pressing business, and Iggy would make hot chocolate, and Gladio would read out loud, and he and Prom would—

Wait.

Noct's brow furrowed as a deep spike of anxiety settled into his stomach. There was something wrong; he didn't remember setting up camp, and he certainly didn't remember a cuddle party, and my head hurts, why does my head hurt, what's that smell, it smells like medicine, did I get hurt?

No.

That's not right, I didn't get hurt, it's not me, it was—

"Prompto!"

Noctis was halfway to standing before he'd even realised he'd moved. Casting his gaze frantically over the interior of the tent (how did we get to the tent?!), his eyes fell upon Ignis, shaking droplets of tea off of his hand with a grimace, and Gladio, surging forward to capture Noct by the shoulders and sit him back down.

"Easy, Princess, take it easy."

"Get off me! Where's Prompto?!" There were little twinkling flashes in his vision, and he was panting hard. Struggling against his very own man-mountain, though fun in the right circumstances, was pretty near pointless. If Gladio didn't want to be moved, he wasn't gonna be moved.

"Calm down!"

Noct's struggles intensified. "Where's Prompto?!"

"Fuckin' hell kid, he's-"

"Is he okay?!"

"Well, you're currently kickin' six shades of shit out of him, but other than that…"

Noctis stopped struggling and hung limply in Gladio's arms. He looked blankly around for his best friend until a quiet throat-clearing from Ignis drew his attention. The advisor had curled protectively around what he first mistook to be a bundle of blankets, and was giving him a gently admonishing look. Noct licked his lips and spoke hesitantly.

"Is…is he alright?"

Ignis' stern expression cracked into one of weary fondness. "He's alright, Noct. You only jostled him a bit; Gladio's exaggerating," he turned a glare on the Shield, "As usual. Prompto will be fine. We got you both back to the Haven, and Gladio drove to the Outpost to restock our curatives. I've given him a few potions, and Gladio managed to get an ether into you-"

"Which you did not want to take, you little piranha."

Noctis inspected the fading bite-mark on Gladio's hand with no small amount of satisfaction. "Nice."

"Didn't feel nice, you-"

"—as I was saying, Prompto will be fine. I've bound up his shoulder and his ribs; we're just waiting for the potions to finish working. He'll sleep a while longer, I should think."

There was a lump in his throat that made it hard to speak, but Noctis tried anyway. "Sorry…sorry I spilled your tea, Iggy. It didn't burn you both, did it?"

For some reason, Ignis' eyes were wet. Or was that his own eyes? He tried focusing on the tufts of blond hair sticking out of the blanket cocoon on Iggy's lap, but that just made it worse.

"It was lukewarm at best, Highness." The advisor followed Noct's gaze and swallowed loudly. "Oh, come here, you silly buggers."

Noctis scrambled forward as quickly as his exhausted body would allow, with Gladio close behind him. They curled themselves gently around Ignis and the sleeping Prompto, and if Noctis wept a few tears into that soft blond hair, well. It didn't matter.

The others were totally crying too.

Please forgive Ignis' paltry excuse for an Inventive British Swear™. He's under a lot of stress. Being British myself, I am deeply ashamed. Sorry if it ended abruptly; I could have gone on forever. This was a completely self-indulgent exercise in order to get a feel for writing the characters. Please, let me know how I did! I want to make a series of one-shots and small chaptered fics, so feel free to toss some ideas my way. I love Prompto, if that sways your decision...