—

He didn't even have time to respond before she pulled away, running a hand through the longer tresses of his hair at the back of his neck. She was studying his face, her own unreadable to him. He shivered at her touch on his neck.

This was… a lot.

"I get it," she said flatly. "I'm angry as hell and I think you could have found another way, but I get it. And no matter how much I want to punch your stupid pretty face, I just got you back and life is too damn short these days for me to stay angry with you, especially with you flopping back into the city as a half-corpse."

This was not at all what he'd been expecting. What could he say? What was appropriate to say to something like that? Certainly nothing that he could think of. She'd always been good at doing that.

Apparently, he didn't need to say anything, though, because Aranea didn't wait long enough for him to come up with something.

She kissed him again. Harder this time.

His thoughts scattered like he'd been poisoned again.

This was real. This human contact was real. And he had even less of an idea as to what to do about it than normal, which was saying something.

His mind had been… broken in that regard. The feeling of her against him – the feeling of another solid, living and breathing human being – was just… so much. Too much.

Too much.

Her hand trailed up the side of his neck to his jaw…

Too much.

Her other hand was between them, warm and solid over his racing heart…

Toomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuch…

He retracted from her as best he could against the wall, trying to calm his panicked breathing.

Aranea flinched back, a flash of hurt and confusion crossing her face. "…Specs?"

"I… apologies," he choked out.

Aranea pulled away from him, her arms crossing defensively. "No, I'm sorry. I should have… I was reading things wrong–"

"No," Ignis stressed, his tone rougher than he'd intended with his stupid throat the way that it was. "Aranea, you've done nothing wrong. I want… I didn't intend to push you away, I merely…" He stuttered again.

"I've been isolated for so long," he finished lamely. "I'm afraid I might need more time to adjust to… everything."

"Oh." Relief and understanding relaxed the tense muscles that had been pulling wrinkles into her skin. "Oh, Six, I'm sorry. I didn't even think about how overwhelming that could be for you." She reached for him again, slowly this time. Her open hand hovered just by his cheek.

"May I?" she asked softly.

He swallowed, giving her the faintest of nods.

Her touch was feather-light this time, tickling his cheek a bit as she brushed the hair there.

Bloody obnoxious beard.

He found himself leaning into her touch, his eyes falling shut. Another time and he might have been blushing at this contact, but there was nothing romantic in this now. This was beyond that.

This was a touch that he would have aquatinted more with Lunafreya. This was healing. This was understanding.

He didn't know how long they stood there. He didn't care. So long as she was willing, he'd take it.

The silence and safety of a city without monsters roaming nearby… The welcome presence of someone he trusted…

Peace. This was what peace felt like, and it was a beautiful thing.

Gladio needed a damn drink.

Everything. Everything about this situation was so infuriating. And so… Ignis.

So stupidly practical and well planned and, Six, Gladio was pissed, but he felt guilty about being pissed because everything Ignis had done had been all selfless. Of course he hadn't wanted to put them all through what he had. Ignis never would have done that lightly, but…

…Gladio was still pissed. If he hadn't already punched Ravus, he'd want to.

…Hell, he still wanted to. Maybe multiple more times, especially when he'd avoided their last meeting his own sister had requested that he attend. And Gladio would want to punch Ignis himself if he hadn't been cradling his friend's poisoned body and praying to the Astrals for his life not so long ago.

He needed more time to digest this all before he saw Ignis again. Which wasn't really a problem since Ignis had disappeared from the hospital with Aranea.

A damn drink. Yep. That was exactly what he needed, and he was going to get it right now.

"…So are we actually sure he didn't just take off for the wilderness again?" Prompto asked. It was clearly an attempt at humor, but there was an undertone to his voice that betrayed his very real worry.

"He's fine," Gladio grumbled. "You heard the nurse. Aranea's got him."

Aranea. Not Ignis' closest friends. Not the friend who'd literally dragged him out of a swamp and to the hospital. Aranea.

Gladio was trying really hard not to take that personally. Trying to remind himself it was because Aranea had been the one to stay at the hospital.

Really, Ignis didn't need to explain everything to all of them. His poor throat didn't need that.

But again… Gladio was still hurt and pissed off.

And he needed a drink.

Which was exactly why he was dragging Prompto to get one. Not that Prompto had really protested.

Gladio's palm hit the door to the bar with probably a bit more force than necessary, but nothing broke so he just kept walking.

Ravus better not have been in here to see his girlfriend at the moment, or there was about to be a bar fight.

Ravus was not there.

Gladio was almost disappointed.

…Someone else with an already broken face was there, however.

"The hell happened to you?" Gladio asked as he took a seat next to Loqi.

Loqi eyed him wearily before he glanced past him to Prompto. "If I'm honest is he going to hit me too?"

Prompto pursed his lips as he thought about it. "Maybe."

"Great." Loqi's tone dripped with sarcasm before he downed a shot. He gestured to Prompto with the glass once he was done. "Be sure to save my organs for you and your brothers if you need them."

Prompto coughed. "Uh. Pardon?"

Loqi rolled his eyes, apparently annoyed that Prompto hadn't gotten his joke. "Delilah ran some tests – apparently we're all compatible for organ donations except for her. Obviously she knew that would be the case for you and your brothers, but I was a surprise. Maybe I can be useful if I die." Loqi slouched at the last word, his glass clanking on the wood of the bar has he set it down hard.

Gladio and Prompto shared a look.

Loqi usually had a nice supply of dry wit, but flat-out self-deprecating and morbid death humor was new. And a buzz kill. Gladio did not need a buzz kill before he'd even gotten a hand on his first drink.

"Uh. Loqi? You okay there, buddy?" Prompto asked. "Maybe had a little too much?"

Loqi… didn't deny it. He just shrugged tiredly, fiddling with the necklace he always had on.

Yes. Gladio had never been Loqi's biggest fan, but the shrimp looked honestly pretty pathetic at the moment. Exhausted. Stressed. Depressed, even.

Not that Gladio really had to wonder why. Whatever had broken his face aside, Loqi had to be beyond overworked since he was running his city with less leaders now and still making his trading journeys. His brief times in Lestallum were probably the closest he got to breaks.

Gladio looked at Loqi. And then to the drinks behind the bar. And then back to Loqi.

The shrimp looked like someone had killed his dog. After breaking his face.

Gladio sighed. There went his own damn drink because someone didn't know their limits.

…Or was Loqi even drunk? Who knew? Who cared? Drunk or not, Gladio had seen that worn look on plenty of people before.

Loqi needed reassurance. Friendship. Comfort. Hope. Or at least something along those lines.

Even the strongest wore down after a while. Looked like it had moved from Aranea's turn to Loqi's.

…Seriously, when had it become Gladio's job to be the emotional support person?

"Okay." Gladio stood up, moving over to drop his hands on Loqi's shoulders. "Bed for you. Come on."

Loqi muttered some protest under his breath, but he didn't put up any actual fight as Gladio gently dragged him from the barstool by the fabric of his sleeves.

It was only when Gladio tugged him out the door that he realized he had no idea where Loqi usually stayed in the city.

Gladio glanced at Prompto.

Prompto dipped his head one way before taking the lead.

Loqi just kept… stumbling along with Gladio.

Yeah, this wasn't normal drunk. This was drained. Maybe drained and slightly drunk, but alcohol was not the main issue here.

"…Wanna talk about anything–"

"No."

"Right. Okay. Glad we cleared that up."

Another stubborn one. Great.

So now he had Aranea, Ignis, and Loqi to deal with in the immediate future. And if they didn't get sorted out, civilization might very well collapse. No pressure there.

Seriously, how was this his job?

—