I haven't seen much for Gladio dealing with the death of his dad after Insomnia falls, so I decided I would write this instead of keeping up with my responsibilities. Also, I very much ship Ignis and Gladio, so I finally decided to write my first little fic about the two of them.
Enjoy!
The mattress beneath Gladio groaned as he flopped onto his side. Sweat-dampened sheets clung to his skin, radiating the heat of his nervous energy back against his body as his legs struggled to kick them away. His brow furrowed and his eyelids flickered, fighting to hold him under sleep's spell while his mind forced a slideshow of terrible images before him.
Bursts of gunfire eliciting sprays of blood, the shing of a blade slashing against armored robes, deadened amber eyes surrounded by creases from years of stern looks and proud smiles. Brilliant violet sparks, blazing red flames, crunching bones in thick puddles of crimson. Screams—no, gritted cries at the very best. Trained muscles going limp. Scars pooling with blood, memories of years that amounted to nothing.
Empty gray eyes, blood-caked graying hair, a slack bearded jaw resting against a polished floor coated in a film of shattered glass.
Gladio's body shot upright, and his lungs pulled hard, gulping air greedily. He winced when his forehead met the underside of Noctis's bunk with a dull thunk. Gritting his teeth, he pressed a hot palm to his sweaty face. Shit. When he closed his eyes to take a deep breath, the empty expressions and the lifeless bodies returned. His eyes flew back open as quickly as they'd closed.
There were a hundred different ways Clarus could have died, and his mind was intent on showing him every one. The moment Ignis showed them the newspaper in Galdin Quay that had declared King Regis dead and Insomnia fallen, he knew. He knew, but he didn't let himself think about it too much.
They'd charged toward the city and broken a few magitek soldiers only to see that it was true. Insomnia had crumbled under the weight of the Empire's crushing boot. The smoke billowing into the sky where a glittering dome would have stopped it was proof enough that King Regis was dead—and that by extension, Clarus Amicitia was dead, too.
Gladio shook his head and combed his fingers through his hair, hating how they trembled. For all the shit he'd given Noct for being upset, he sure was a mess. He carefully swung his legs around and pressed his bare feet to the rough, overused carpet. Suddenly, the cramped quarters of the caravan felt suffocating.
Taking a breath to steady himself, Gladio slowly stood, careful not to make noise. Noctis and Prompto could sleep through anything, but, well… His eyes drifted across the room, adjusted to the darkness. Ignis was stretched out on the couch, his left arm raised to cover his eyes and his right hand laid across his slender body, pinching his glasses between his forefinger and thumb. The advisor would wake to any bump in the night; in fact, his ears had probably already pricked up at the sound of Gladio hitting his head. It was only a matter of whether or not he decided to care.
Cautious to let Ignis have a break from his endless worrying, Gladio slipped a t-shirt over his head and took slow steps toward the door. He held his breath when he pushed down on the door handle and pulled the door open. It squeaked ever so quietly, but the sound felt deafening in the dead of night. Gladio winced when a flood of light poured into the opening, praying that his body blocked most of it out as he quickly stepped outside into Hammerhead.
"So goddamn bright," he grumbled to himself bitterly.
In nothing but his t-shirt and his underwear, Gladio crossed the cement to hide from the blinding lights over the gas station. He wondered if Cid or Cindy or Takka was awake inside the diner, watching him hobble over to the low wall that bordered the west end of the stop. He couldn't bring himself to care. With a grunt, he pulled himself up onto the concrete wall and leaned forward, pressing his elbows into his bare thighs.
The night air was colder than he thought it would be. Shuddering, he shot a glare up to the crescent moon, bathed in the shadow of the diner. Alone and safe with his thoughts, he shut his eyes and forced himself to take another look at the images his mind insisted on showing him. The blood, the empty eyes, the blades… He swallowed to wet his dry throat. How did he die? Iris's kind eyes flashed in his mind's eye and he almost choked on the gathering lump in his throat. She hadn't answered a single text or call yet. It's only been one day. But the day had felt like an eternity, and her lack of a response didn't bode well considering their father's untimely end.
Gladio's nails dug into his skin. She was alright. She had to be. Iris had no reason to be at the Citadel that day. Except to celebrate the biggest peace treaty since the goddamn world began. His teeth clenched together so tightly that he might've worried about them cracking if he wasn't so preoccupied with envisioning how the members of his family died. Had they been crushed? Shot? Skewered like the meat the Empire thought they all were with their robot army? Had they felt pain and terror and betrayal, or had they passed quickly?
"Making faces like that will give you wrinkles."
Gladio jerked his head up and whipped it around. His neck cried out in protest and he flinched, fighting away a wince. Ignis stared back at him, unfazed, and still fully dressed in what he'd worn when they stood over their fallen city mere hours before. Must've been too exhausted to change.
With a grunt, Gladio turned back to the expansive desert, watching the daemons dance around in the darkness. "Sorry for waking you."
"No need to apologize. I was hardly sleeping well anyway."
Gladio shot him a questioning look, but Ignis offered no reply. He did, however, surprise Gladio by pressing his palms to the concrete wall and heaving his body up to sit beside the shield. Ignis settled himself carefully, touching his glasses and watching the daemons with him in silence. Gladio was painfully aware of how tightly their shoulders were pressed together, and he knew Iggy had done that on purpose.
The touch wasn't foreign. The two had been… together(?) for at least a few months, stealing kisses when nobody was looking and spending countless hours talking and, well… Gladio's lips twitched into a sly smile, but guilt swallowed it quickly. It wasn't the time to be remembering Ignis like that, not when his family had just died horrible, bloody deaths by the Empire.
It was his job, Gladio tried to reason. I knew the day would come eventually. Goosebumps prickled up across his skin and he closed his eyes, hanging his head. My day will come, too. The thought made him sick. Did he want to die for Noct? Didn't that mean Noct would die, too? Anger only piled on the pressure in his chest. What the hell was he thinking? Of course, he was going to die for Noctis if the situation called for it. Defending the prince was his entire purpose. It was in his blood.
Suddenly, he remembered Ignis was sitting beside him, patiently staring into the dark and enduring the silence with ease. Gladio cleared his throat, but no words came. Ignis spared him a glance before returning to watching the daemons.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly, delicately, as if the powerful mixture of emotions in Gladio's chests would explode if he wasn't ginger.
Gladio hummed, shaking his head. His drying hair tickled the back of his neck and the sides of his face. "Nothin' to talk about."
Ignis looked ready to call his bluff, but he didn't. Instead, he nodded and touched his glasses habitually. "Alright."
"How 'bout you?" Gladio asked, equally as quiet. "Said you weren't sleeping well. What's up?"
Ignis drew a deep breath, searching the night for his words and collecting them neatly as he always did. "I can't stop thinking about the city," he said finally. "Perhaps if we had left when we'd planned to things would be different."
Gladio frowned, stretching out a hand and digging his fingers between Ignis's crossed knees, burying his cold fingers in the warmth. Ignis raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for Gladio to say something. The shield struggled to formulate sentences, each word getting tangled with thick blood and lifeless bodies.
"Yeah," he said finally.
Yeah? That's all he could give when Ignis had crawled out of bed to sit with him, concerned for his safety or his mental state or whatever the hell it was that Ignis worried about? Guilt gnawed at his churning stomach. Ignis, who never got to rest because he was too busy making sure everyone else was alright, got up to sit in silence in the cold while Gladio brooded like Noctis. It made him feel sick.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Ignis asked again, this time turning his head to look at Gladio. "It's unlike you to sit in dramatic silence."
"'m fine," Gladio grumbled, forcing a thin smile. In an attempt to prove said fine-ness, he pressed a kiss to Ignis's temple and brushed his thumb back and forth across the advisor's knee. "Just too tired to sleep, y'know?"
"... I understand," Ignis replied in a tone that implied he understood something beneath Gladio's façade but was choosing not to push the subject. Instead, his eyes traced the thick lines of the feathers inked down Gladio's arms. "The fresh air does feel nice."
"Yeah."
There it was. Gladio's eloquence was certainly thriving that night while he sat beneath the moon with a painfully patient man he was pretty sure he loved more than cheap ramen noodles. It hurt even more that Ignis didn't seem to mind, probably used to Gladio's refusals to give up on his tight control of his problems. No one got to know them but Gladio himself—unless Noctis was the problem, in which case, Ignis got as many earfuls of bitching as he could handle before he shut Gladio up with his lips.
With a sigh, Ignis let his head fall onto Gladio's bulky shoulder. Gladio's gut twisted. If he's tired, he should go to bed. But he knew that Ignis wouldn't go unless he went, too. He wanted to sit there in the cold watching daemons scream at the sky because that's what Gladio was doing, and that was something the shield would never understand. If their roles were reversed, Gladio wouldn't have heard Ignis sit up gasping, and he certainly wouldn't have followed him outside even if he had heard. It spoke volumes about the advisor's character.
Or maybe Gladio was just a bad friend. There was always that, wasn't there?
The sun rose too quickly for his taste because when even the slightest crack of the sun along the horizon threatened to illuminate his and Iggy's spot in the dark, the advisor put distance between them. Gladio stared at the space between their legs and wished he could close it again, missing the advisor's warmth against his side. But he knew better. If Ignis didn't want to let anyone know about them, that was his choice.
Once the sun itself was visible, Ignis lifted himself off the wall carefully, wincing when he stretched and his back cracked loudly.
"Getting old, Scientia?" Gladio teased, following suit. He flashed a satisfied grin when his shoulder popped.
Ignis raised an eyebrow and his lips tugged into a sly smile. "No older than you, it seems."
Gladio chuckled sleepily, his nightmares pushing into the back of his mind for the time being. The Iggy's company had taken the edge off, given him something else to think about. Unfortunately, they had to leave their little slice of paradise at the wall. Ignis had to scrap together breakfast for the crown prince and Prompto, and Gladio wanted nothing more than a scorching hot shower to wash the sticky, sweaty film from his skin.
But he couldn't do so without giving in to a little temptation. He was feeling more like himself already. Grinning like a fool, he watched Ignis lift a chair off the stack outside their caravan. While the advisor busied himself with untangling the legs of the chairs from one another, Gladio gave him a firm smack on the ass and stepped out of the way of any reflexes by retreating to the door. Ignis jerked, startled, and shot Gladio a glare that was anything but menacing.
Gladio winced with a sharp hiss, squeezing his eyes shut. Prompto flinched away, glancing up at him nervously. His fingers ceased wrapping Gladio's wounds.
"Sorry, big guy. Trying to be gentle."
"Don't worry about me," Gladio grumbled, fixing his face and shaking his arm in Prompto's face until the gunman went back to work. "Just get it over with. Iggy's not gonna let me do it myself no matter how much I bitch."
"It'd hardly be as effective as letting someone help you," Ignis sniffed, putting away their dishes from dinner.
Gladio grunted. "You let me set it alone."
"No one else wanted to crunch your bones back into place," Noctis grumbled, laying on his back with a yawn. At dusk, his phone's screen made his face look ghostly white.
Rolling his eyes, Gladio shot Ignis a look. He was trying his best not to reveal the crisis he was wrestling with inside, and (gods bless Iggy's intuition) the advisor allowed a small smile in response. It was too late to hide that he was struggling; his broken arm was proof enough. Their distinct lack of curatives was indicative of their collective state. But at least Noctis was talking again.
Gladio's chest tightened when he looked back down to where Prompto's fingers gently unwound the roll of gauze, doing his best to keep the wrap tight. They'd had plenty of close calls in battle during their slow journey toward Lestallum. Knowing that Iris was alive had kept Gladio going without gut-wrenching visions for a whole three hours well-spent napping in the backseat of the Regalia.
But they returned with a vengeance when Noctis decided to take a detour to help a hunter crying out in the distance. A group of garudas had charged them when they neared the hiding hunter. Killing them wouldn't have been a problem if Noct hadn't tried to save the man too early, drawing the attention of the biggest garuda of all. For a moment, Gladio had frozen, held firmly in place by flashing images of Regis and Clarus gasping for air around lungs pooling with blood.
Then, with a guttural scream tearing through his throat, he'd swung his sword as hard as he could directly against the charging garuda as if he were cutting through the nightmares themselves. His forearm couldn't take the power of the opposing forces and splintered in two, but he'd kept swinging until the beast was long gone and thick, hot blood sank into the grass where his wild attacks had slung it.
Gladio flinched when Prompto's knuckle bumped his sore skin. The gunman hissed another apology, finished fasting the dressing into place and backed away, hands raised by his head.
"There, all good! Should hold up until we make it to Lestallum."
"We'd be there now if Gladio would stop thinking he's the same size as all the wildlife," Noct huffed. Ignis walked a touch too close past the prince's head, scaring him. Noct dropped his phone onto his face with a startled jolt, and Gladio shot Ignis a grin.
The advisor's own smile was all too wry as he pressed a finger to his glasses and settled in a camping chair. "His Royal Highness would do well to remember why Prompto's been forced to spend the last hour fussing over Gladio."
"Nothing's ever his fault," Gladio retorted, stretching out a foot and pressing the toe of his boot to Noct's ribs. "Is it, Majesty?"
"Whatever," Noct scoffed, turning onto his stomach and keeping his eyes glued to his phone.
"Perhaps you should sit in a seat rather than rolling around in the dirt," Ignis suggested, taking a sip from the mug clasped between his hands with an eyebrow arched. Noctis gave him a middle finger, refusing to move. Gladio kicked him again.
"Be nice to your mother."
"Okay, Dad."
Ignis paused as he was about to take another drink, staring at Gladio. For a moment, the shield wondered if he was being accused of sharing their little secret with the other two. He shot a defensive frown back, but immediately, his stomach twisted into knots. Dad. Noctis had done well to avoid the topic of fathers altogether, especially after having a more open breakdown over losing his own.
Gladio's heart squeezed, and he swallowed the lump in his throat, staring hard at the fire that stood between him and Ignis. Clarus's stern but insufferably kind eyes glowed back at him in the flames, the same shade as the deep oranges that lapped at the air. He wondered if Iris felt the same pains, laying in her hotel bed and staring at the ceiling. Of course she did. She was there when the city fell. She was suffering more than he was.
But it didn't feel like it. He felt completely and utterly alone. And it didn't help that Ignis knew.
Gladio let out the breath he was holding, eyed the lingering light of the sun on the misty horizon, and stood. "I'm gonna get to bed early. Sooner we can get outta here, the sooner we can get to Lestallum."
"Good idea," Prompto murmured, but he didn't move from his seat, watching Noctis all-too-aggressively tap at his phone screen.
Gladio didn't meet the eyes that followed him to the tent, slapping the flap over the entrance back to haphazardly hide himself from the world. Exhausted, he shed his vest and fell onto his back, keeping his arm raised over his head to save it from any bumps. For a moment, he stared up at the ceiling and breathed, long and slow, trying to slow the hammering in his chest and unwind the twisting in his gut. But his body was just as much of a stubborn bastard as his mind and he screwed his eyes shut, rubbing his face with his good hand.
How did he die? The question would haunt him forever, it seemed. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw his father's among the carnage he imaged overflowed from Insomnia. The city's smoke billowed up into the sky like drops of blood billowing into crimson clouds in a glass of water. He slipped below the surface, heart pounding and stomach doing backflips every time he turned over in his sleep.
Somewhere in the night, a gentle hand brushed back his sweaty hair and rested on his chest, trying to calm his pounding heart. The weight was comforting, but the added warmth of a body pressed to his side didn't do any favors for his overheating. The hotter he got in his sleep, the hotter the flames of Insomnia flared in his dreams. The fire consumed everything, leaving nothing but tortured screams and cries of desperation in its wake.
Finally, his eyes flew open wide as if he'd never been asleep. Ignis paused, halfway through buttoning his shirt. Gladio almost closed his eyes and rolled back over to play it off like the advisor had only briefly bothered him, but it was too late. Ignis threw a glance over his shoulder to Prompto and Noctis, who both breathed steadily, fast asleep and waiting for their Iggy-alarm to wake them for breakfast.
Then, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes, Ignis knelt back down beside Gladio. He kept his voice low, but his eyes were laden with concern. "Are you alright? You seemed a bit feverish last night."
"I'm fine," Gladio whispered back, wincing at the rawness of his voice. His throat hadn't been anything but dry and scratchy since they visited Insomnia, constantly battling with the lump sitting at the hollow over his collarbone. Blinking the bleariness from his eyes, the shield reached up and brushed his knuckles against Ignis's sharp cheekbone. "How're you?"
Ignis closed his eyes and sighed. "Gladio…" He tensed when the plastic of the tent floor crinkled behind him, but Gladio's hand didn't budge. It was Iggy's signal that Noctis hadn't woken up. Still, he'd been spooked. Quietly, he cleared his throat and grasped Gladio's much larger hand, pulling it from his face. "If you're ready to get up, let's speak outside."
"M'kay." Gladio slipped his hand behind Iggy's neck and pulled him closer to steal a kiss.
Ignis didn't let him linger, wrestling himself free and standing. His fingers quickly finished buttoning his shirt as he ducked his head and stepped outside to prepare for their day. Cursing under his breath at the pain in his neck, Gladio sat up slowly. For a moment, he watched Prompto and Noctis sleep, arms stretched over their faces to hide their eyes from the rising sun. The gaps between their synchronized breaths made his heart skip in anticipation. What would he do if they stopped? What could he do?
Fuckin' hopeless. He huffed, snapping himself out of his dark thoughts. Ignis didn't look up from the pan he'd pulled from their bags when Gladio stepped outside. The shield's back cracked loudly when he stretched and his lips twisted into a smile, anticipating a snarky comment from Ignis. It faded when one didn't come.
Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck and walked up behind the advisor. Ignis pushed eggs around the pan mechanically, eyes locked on his cooktop and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Finally, he stopped playing with the food, crossing his arms and pressing a hip to his kitchenette.
"What'd you wanna talk about?" Gladio asked finally, pressing a hand to the counter space.
"You." Ignis shot Gladio a stern look before crouching to dig through a bag. With practiced efficiency, he squirted a drop of gel into his hands and pushed the hair that hung in his face upright.
Gladio watched him with an eyebrow raised. "What about me?"
Ignis glanced at his reflection on his phone screen and wiped his hands on a towel. "There's something you're not saying and it's getting in the way." He picked up his spatula and gave the pan a quick stir. "How many times have you lectured Noctis about letting his thoughts linger on Insomnia?"
"I'm not lingering," Gladio huffed, pressing his hands to his hips awkwardly. "We're heading to Lestallum to meet Iris, aren't we?"
"That's not what I mean." Ignis's eyes flickered up to meet Gladio's. "You've been acting strangely, and I can't help but wonder if it has something to do with Clarus."
Gladio's smile faltered and he sighed. His nails dug into his palms. The tiny pinches kept him grounded. "It's fine. I'm fine."
"So you keep saying." Ignis used the back of his hand to push his sliding glasses back up, shooting Gladio a sidelong glance and still clinging to the spatula. "Frankly, I don't believe you. If you need some time to yourself once we reach Lestallum—"
"Iggy, I'm fine." Gladio leaned his elbow against the counter and reached forward to pinch the tiny skull around Ignis's neck between his fingers.
Ignis sighed, shook his head, and set the pan down. "You're not going to break any more limbs making rash decisions?"
Gladio grunted and tugged on the chain, forcing Ignis to lean closer if he didn't want his necklace to snap. "The only alone time I want in Lestallum is with you," the shield muttered, smiling suggestively.
Ignis rolled his eyes but he didn't shy away. He took a breath to speak but froze when the gentle scrape of plastic against skin broke the silence between them.
"You guys having a moment?" Prompto asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
Ignis raised an eyebrow and glanced at the blonde. "Gladiolus has decided to be a pain this morning."
"Damn, Gladiolus." Prompto laughed and shook his head, stumbling away from the haven with a grumble about taking a leak.
Gladio waited until the coast was clear before leaning forward to steal another kiss. The advisor jerked back at the same time, avoidant and irritated, and pried Gladio's fingers away from his necklace. "You're a fool if you think you're getting any sort of attention in Lestallum after that."
"Oh, don't be like that," Gladio whined with a shit-eating grin. "He's not gonna say anything. Have you seen how he and Noct are around each other?"
"… It's different." Ignis glanced over his shoulder. "Those two have a different sort of… friendship."
"Fuck the friendzone," Gladio grumbled. He straightened and stepped away when Prompto returned, giving Ignis the space he wanted. "Sleep alright, Prom?"
"Yeah, pretty good." Prompto crinkled his nose. "Need a shower, though. Can't wait until we get to a real city."
"Civilization will feel nice," Ignis replied dryly. He turned and handed Prompto a plate. "There's coffee in the pot if you want any."
"Thanks, Iggy."
Prompto plopped down by the ashes of the fire, content to sit and eat alone. Ignis pressed Gladio's plate into his hands without a word and headed to the tent to wake Noctis. Gladio huffed and sat down beside Prompto, starting to feel the burn of exhaustion in his muscles. He knew the circles under his eyes were getting darker by the day, but he wasn't about to let Prompto of all people lose faith in his strength, so he shot the gunman a smile and made lively small talk about photography. All the while, Ignis leaned against the kitchenette and eyed him, searching for a chink in his armor.
Iris's answer had been about what they'd expected. The Insomnia was in crumbles, and everyone that survived the Empire's massacre was evacuating as fast as humanly possible to save themselves from the curious daemons that slipped into the darkened city. Gladio hadn't had the courage to ask her about their father, but she was just as bright as Ignis. Without a word, she'd handed him a newspaper and hurried out the door to show Noctis around Lestallum.
Gladio sat alone on the edge of his bed, staring hard at the front cover of the paper. The title alone had his insides in a mess, promising photographs of the massacre inside the Citadel and warning off the faint of heart. He hated how afraid he was to turn the page. They're just bodies. Nodding, he took a quick breath and turned the first page.
And then the second. And the third. His heart raced and his stomach clenched. The inside of the Citadel was a mess, all shattered glass and shell casings and dried blood splatters. Once he cracked the paper open, he couldn't stop consuming the words printed on the pages like they were one of the cheap novels he read on long car rides. On paper four, he almost had to get up to puke. King Regis laid on his front before the elevator to the throne room, drenched in blood. Another photo was placed below that one.
On the far wall of the room where the treaty signing was to take place, the windows on the wall gaped open, jagged, and glass glittered on the floor. On the wall, an enormous sword pierced a man, leaving his limp corpse to dangle there like a reminder of weakness. Gladio closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. Pictured above: royal shield Clarus Amicitia pinned to the wall by an Imperial commander's sword.
There it was. Wasn't that what he'd been searching for? Confirmation? Clarity? His heart pounded and skipped beats and did backflips inside his chest. A cold sweat broke out across his skin and he shuddered. Regis's sprawled body lurked behind his eyelids. How badly had their defenses held if his father was left to dangle a dozen feet off the ground by a gaping wound in his chest? What the hell kind of monsters were they up against?
A soft knock came to the door and he folded the paper back together the wrong way, startled. The door opened silently and Ignis peered around it. "I hope I'm not bothering—"
"You're not. Come in." Gladio stood abruptly, raking his hands through his hair and pacing toward the window so he could collect himself.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," the advisor accused. Gladio huffed out a dry laugh. Nothing got past the stubborn bastard, did it? "I hate to sound like a broken record, but—"
"I'm alright, Iggy. You just scared me."
"Jumpy, are we?" Ignis crossed his arms and looked around the room. "Did I interrupt something?"
"What the hell do you think I'm doing in here?" Gladio snorted, staring down at the busy street. "Jerking off?"
"Doing some light reading by the look of it."
Gladio had never whipped around so fast. Ignis carefully spread the paper open to the fourth page, eyes scanning the page. His jaw worked as when he swallowed hard, brows furrowing. Gladio searched his brain for excuses, but he stopped himself short when the words were about to tumble out. What did he have to be ashamed of? He was being ridiculous. Still, the look Ignis gave him when he finally looked up… Gladio rubbed the back of his neck and turned to the floor, unable to hold Iggy's sorry gaze.
"Yeah. Light," he muttered.
"Gladio, what—" Ignis cut himself off and shook his head. His eyes flitted over the paper once more before he carefully folded it back up. The pages flared when he set it on the bedside table between the two beds in the room, but they remained shut, determined to keep their secrets hidden now that the two men in the room had seen them. "Why are you torturing yourself over this?"
"I'm not torturing myself," Gladio scoffed, but he didn't sound the least bit convincing.
Ignis shook his head and crossed his arms. "Is that what this is? You're afraid of following in your father's footsteps?"
Gladio shot him a glare. "I'm not afraid of jack shit. I just wanted to know what it looked like. Closure and all."
"Does it feel like closure, or does it feel like you're going to spend another week without sleep?" Ignis demanded.
Defensive and refusing to let himself dig too deep into his pain, Gladio rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his pockets as he crossed the room to near the advisor. "Ain't that deep, Iggy. Not everything has to end in psychoanalysis."
"I'm not psychoanalyzing," Ignis replied sharply. "I'm concerned."
"How sweet." Gladio tugged his hand free from his pocket, ignoring the ache in his arm that the potion that mended his arm left behind, and pinched Ignis's chin. He made Ignis look up at him and scanned over his face. "You're really somethin' else, Iggy."
Ignis frowned, but Gladio erased the expression with a kiss. This time, though, he refused to let Ignis pull away, pushing a hand against his back and pressing him close. When the images from the paper appeared behind his eyelids, Gladio only got more aggressive, fighting the pictures away with Ignis as his primary distraction. He bit down on the advisor's lip before trailing kisses down the side of his neck and untucking his shirt.
"Gladio," Ignis said firmly, making a weak effort to pull away from the shield. He was having his own internal struggle, unsure if he should curl his hands up against the shield's chest or push him away.
Gladio didn't respond, shoving Ignis onto the bed where he'd opened the paper. When Ignis tried to speak again, propping himself up on his elbows, Gladio pounced, swallowing the advisor's words. He was greedy for any feeling other than guilt. He chased Iggy's lips when the advisor pressed the back of his head to the mattress, hoping he'd get tired of fighting and give in to Gladio's wordless pleas.
No such luck.
Ignis pressed a firm hand to Gladio's chest and shoved upward. Huffing, the shield let up, staring down at him. "Gladio."
"What?"
"This isn't the answer."
Gladio scoffed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Then what the fuck is, oh wise one? If you know so much, give me a goddamn answer."
Ignis sat up and frowned at Gladio over his shoulder. "Don't."
"Fuck off," Gladio grumbled, rubbing his face. He left his hands where they were, covering himself. I didn't mean that. He was ashamed of how badly he was hiding his inner struggle. Ignis was reading him like a book, and it was starting to piss him off.
"Why, because I won't allow you to use me as a distraction?" Ignis accused, raising an eyebrow. Gladio's heart skipped a beat, and he refused to uncover his face. Didn't want to use you… "You're hurting. There's something there beyond losing your father."
Gladio let out a weak puff of air that was meant to be a scoff. It didn't get there, cut off by the closing of his throat. Regis, Clarus, all the bodies of the guards that lined the halls… If Clarus was the strongest man he ever knew and he failed to save Regis, how the hell was he supposed to protect Noctis? He'd never had a reason to doubt his abilities before, but now he felt helpless.
He took a sharp breath to tell Ignis to stop staring at him, but the words stuck, unable to get around the lump in his throat. He tried to swallow it, but he choked, digging his palms into his eyes. When a gentle hand rested on his knee, he lost his control.
"Dammit, Iggy," he cursed, letting his hands fall to either side of his head on the mattress. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye and ran into his hair, leaving a cooling trail in its wake. "I told you was fine."
"Ah, but you lied," Ignis replied softly, running a soothing thumb over Gladio's knee.
"I was before you started asking me so many goddamn questions." Gladio choked on the lump again, and when he tried to find more words, only more tears came, silently slipping away.
Ignis sighed and turned so that he leaned back against the pillows. "Come here."
Gladio wanted so badly to give a snarky reply, but he couldn't find anything but the pictures—fuck, the goddamn pictures. The sword in his father's gut, the limp dangling of arms that once seemed so strong, the complete and utter lack of life in eyes that once glittered with pride for his children.
So, instead of spitting out a witty remark, Gladio dragged himself up toward the pillows and leaned back against Ignis's shoulder, refusing to face him as long as he couldn't control the tears flowing from his eyes. Ignis didn't seem to mind, resting an arm behind Gladio's head and curling his hand up to run his slender fingers through Gladio's hair. His other hand rested on Gladio's shoulder, rubbing up and down slowly.
They sat in silence for a long time, save for a few sniffs from Gladio, waiting out the pain of the gaping holes in his world. Finally, his staccato breaths slowed and smoothed out. Ignis's hand continued to comb through his hair; he leaned down and pressed his lips to Gladio's forehead.
"You're fine now?"
"Is that a question?" Gladio huffed, though he spoke through a smile. "You make me cry and now you think I'm okay? Goddamn heartless bastard..."
Ignis puffed out a quiet laugh and straightened. "I think now you're letting yourself come to terms."
Gladio tilted his head back to look up at the advisor. "What are you, my therapist?"
"That's a conflict of interest."
"Shit. I'd rather have you as anything other than my fucking doctor."
Ignis raised an eyebrow but bit back whatever sarcastic comment he was about to make in favor of pressing another kiss to Gladio's head. "It's not going to stop hurting because you shed a few tears."
"Yeah, yeah." Gladio raised an arm and rested his hand on Ignis's leg. "I'm not helpless."
"Sometimes I think you might be."
"Not all of us can be prodigies, Iggy." Ignis shook his head in denial. Gladio took a deep breath and let it go as a chuckle. "I'm lucky to have you."
"Yes, you are."
Grinning, Gladio leaned his head into the gap between Ignis's head and his shoulder, shutting his eyes. Suddenly, he was exhausted.
"Think they'll take long enough to let me sleep?"
"They won't bother us as long as we're in here," Ignis replied, his quiet voice rumbling through the back of Gladio's head.
The shield grunted. "You comfy?"
"I'll manage."
"That's not a yes." Gladio started to sit up, but Ignis pressed his hand to his forehead firmly and made him lay still.
"No. Stay there."
Gladio chuckled and looked up at the advisor. His mind was delightfully clear. "If you say so."
Ignis shook his head, lips curling into a tired smile. Gladio closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Almost instantly, sleep started to pull him away. Ignis's voice pulled him just the slightest bit back.
"Gladio?" The shield grunted in response. Ignis stirred beside him, shuffling closer. "You're not alone."
"You're too damn good to me, Iggy," Gladio grumbled, half-asleep.
"I know." Ignis's hands finally went still. "Go to sleep."
"Don't gotta tell me twice."