Ignis closes the door behind him and sighs. Noctis and Prompto have disappeared once again, as they often do the nights Gladio acquiesces to a motel. He knows Noctis is capable of protecting himself, but he doubts how perceptive the pair of them might be on a night like this.
“Did you see where they—“
He turns back into the room where Gladio stands alone, staring into the middle distance. He seems to be turning something over in his mind. Ignis knows the feeling: the fate of Eos rests in the hands of their brooding king and his tiny entourage. It’s a fraught sort of hopeful hopelessness in which they remain two steps behind their foes. It’s enough to keep him awake most nights of late—but in this moment, Ignis is concerned as Gladio is still hurt from whatever he was off seeing to. They just left a hotel the night before. It usually takes a lot more persuading from the boys to land them in a proper room.
Gladio finally registers Ignis’ return, offering him a goofy sort of grin as he rubs at the new scar on his chest.
“Let me take a look at that,” Ignis says with some amount of exasperation.
Gladio smirks and shirks off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor in a soft heap of leather. Normally, Ignis would take this moment to intimately appreciate their shield’s impressive physique, but the thick angry scar that nearly bisects the man is more than concerning. He closes the distance between them as he removes his gloves. Gladio stops smirking and finds something of interest on the ceiling as Ignis carefully begins tracing his fingers over the mark.
“And how many restoratives did this require?” he asks, barely more than a whisper.
“All of them, I think,” Gladio answers. He touches Ignis’ elbows gently, coaxing him closer.
Ignis holds his position.
“You need to be more careful. Noctis needs you.” Ignis runs his fingers over the mark once more. “We all do,” he says, meeting Gladio’s face once more as rubs a thumb into the crease of Gladio’s hip.
“I won’t break,” Gladio says before tilting his forehead down to touch against Ignis’.
“And if you do?”
“I won’t. If you’ve got my back, anyway.”
Ignis sighs. “I do, of course.”
Gladio laughs half-heartedly as he moves his hands to rest on Ignis’ hips. There is so much Ignis wants to say, so much he wants to ask: where could Gladiolus possibly go at a time like this, do you know how much you mean to me, what will we do if we make it past the end of days? Instead, he says nothing, and he presses a hand into Gladio’s hair to pull his face down to his in a kiss.
Ignis/Gladio [T - angst] I Won’t Break
Ignis closes the door behind him and sighs. Noctis and Prompto have disappeared once again, as they often do the nights Gladio acquiesces to a motel. He knows Noctis is capable of protecting himself, but he doubts how perceptive the pair of them might be on a night like this.
“Did you see where they—“
He turns back into the room where Gladio stands alone, staring into the middle distance. He seems to be turning something over in his mind. Ignis knows the feeling: the fate of Eos rests in the hands of their brooding king and his tiny entourage. It’s a fraught sort of hopeful hopelessness in which they remain two steps behind their foes. It’s enough to keep him awake most nights of late—but in this moment, Ignis is concerned as Gladio is still hurt from whatever he was off seeing to. They just left a hotel the night before. It usually takes a lot more persuading from the boys to land them in a proper room.
Gladio finally registers Ignis’ return, offering him a goofy sort of grin as he rubs at the new scar on his chest.
“Let me take a look at that,” Ignis says with some amount of exasperation.
Gladio smirks and shirks off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor in a soft heap of leather. Normally, Ignis would take this moment to intimately appreciate their shield’s impressive physique, but the thick angry scar that nearly bisects the man is more than concerning. He closes the distance between them as he removes his gloves. Gladio stops smirking and finds something of interest on the ceiling as Ignis carefully begins tracing his fingers over the mark.
“And how many restoratives did this require?” he asks, barely more than a whisper.
“All of them, I think,” Gladio answers. He touches Ignis’ elbows gently, coaxing him closer.
Ignis holds his position.
“You need to be more careful. Noctis needs you.” Ignis runs his fingers over the mark once more. “We all do,” he says, meeting Gladio’s face once more as rubs a thumb into the crease of Gladio’s hip.
“I won’t break,” Gladio says before tilting his forehead down to touch against Ignis’.
“And if you do?”
“I won’t. If you’ve got my back, anyway.”
Ignis sighs. “I do, of course.”
Gladio laughs half-heartedly as he moves his hands to rest on Ignis’ hips. There is so much Ignis wants to say, so much he wants to ask: where could Gladiolus possibly go at a time like this, do you know how much you mean to me, what will we do if we make it past the end of days? Instead, he says nothing, and he presses a hand into Gladio’s hair to pull his face down to his in a kiss.
At least for tonight, they will still have this.