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Gladio isn’t really a uh, secret-keeping guy.

 Sorry man, but he kinda’ says it how it is. There’s not much use stirring on something when you can clear the air and fuckin’ move on. People say his mouth’ll get him decked one day – and it does, all the time, but it’s fine when you can take a punch and throw it back harder.

But, there is maybe uh. One thing he keeps to himself. He doesn’t think of it as a secret – but more of a… part of life. It’s been there since he can remember, tucked right in and under his ribs; a long, buzzing squeeze of a reminder.

“You’re a hard guy to find, you know that?”

Ignis looks up, from where he’s shoving books in his locker. His lip twitches into a short, apologetic smile, but it’s gone as quick as it came.

“That depends on who is looking for me.”

“Ouch.” Gladio leans his shoulder up against the lockers, and crosses his arms, smiling, “What’re you in such a rush for anyways?

“A student council meeting.” Ignis pulls out a separate binder, all marked and labeled with those little colored tabs. He’s one of the few who actually uses his locker for all intents and purposes. Gladio thinks he might have half a can of spray cheese and some gym clothes back in his. Ignis pushes up his glasses, and continues, “We are making arrangements for graduation.”

“Dude, that’s months away.”

“Unfortunately, events are planned months in advance,” Ignis tells, shutting his locker. Gladio has no idea how he manages to ace his honors classes, take part in student council, wake up early for retainer-tutoring and still be at Noct’s beck and call.

Gladio realizes that Ignis is staring at him expectantly. Gladio blinks quickly, and stands up straight, heart hammering.

“Hm?”

Ignis lifts an eyebrow, “You were looking for me?”

Oh shit—

“Right. Uh, I wanted to know if you’d come to the game this weekend.” Nailed it.

Ignis tips his head slightly, and his glasses slide back down his nose. He blinks, “The home game against Razzar Tech?”

Gladio hums, “Yuup. Supposed to be a killer match up. Thought uh, we could go get pizza or something after.”

Ignis opens his mouth-

“Gladio! Hey— Gladio-“

Some of the guys start walking down the hall. Gladio looks up and over his shoulder, and tries to convey his best not fuckin’ now – via eyeball, but Ignis covers his mouth briefly, and then in a perfect mask he says, “I need to meet with Noct to brief him on his regional summaries, but afterwards I suppose it would be no trouble.”

Gladio snorts, “You’re gonna’ meet with the princess on a Friday? Nice try, you know the kids gonna’ be off at the arcade with Prompto.”

Ignis shuffles the books in his arms, and for a moment Gladio catches a smile in his eyes.

“Then I shall brief him at the arcade.” 

Arms sling around his neck, and Gladio takes a step to sturdy himself.

“Yoo, dude, Coach is lookin’ for you. Practice started five minutes ago!”

“Then why aren’t you guys at practice?”

“We’re not his favorite wittle boy-“ Tsomu cackles, pinching his cheek – and Gladio elbows him in the jugular, making him choke.

Gladio turns, “Then I’ll see you F-“ he cuts off, realizing that Ignis is already gone. Dammit.

“Tough,” Nyx grins. “Who was that, student prez?”

“Fuck off,” Gladio pushes him, only smiling when an arm wraps back around his shoulders.

He tries not to look back. God, his heart is beating so fast, it feels like he just ran a marathon. Only once they’re through the gym doors, does Gladio realize that he might’ve just gotten a yes.

Gladio lets out a hard breath, and scrubs a hand up and through his hair. The guys pass him to enter the locker room, and Gladio takes a moment to steel himself again.

No.

He doesn’t keep secrets.

But just the one.

Gladio isn’t good at remembering stupid shit, like birthdays and names and don’t you remember the day we first met? – because, no.  He doesn’t.

But he remembers Ignis, and he remembers his birthday, and he remembers the day they first met.

Gladio wasn’t exactly thrilled about being dragged away from his friends (let alone on a weekend, middle school is already shitty enough) but his dad pulled up and said get in kid, so there wasn’t much room for arguing.

He was almost born in the Citadel, so the aristocracy and the armed Glaives never intimidated him as much as everyone else in school. He knew where they were going long before they even reached the end of the hall. Dad walked tall, head up and shoulders squared, so Gladio always tried to imitate him, in hopes that the crownsguard would look at him like they did his Dad.

It was all very unceremonious. Regis is a nice guy when he’s just Regis, and not the King sitting up on the throne. Dad bowed, and so did Gladio, but only after spotting Noctis in his wheelchair, playing away on a Gameboy. Noctis caught his bow and snorted a laugh– and Gladio stuck out his tongue in retaliation. He’s kind of a brat, but it felt good to make him laugh, so Gladio didn’t notice the other boy standing at his left.

Gladio remembers it so clearly.

Combed hair, glasses and – tall, for such a young face. His arms were folded, and his lips were pressed together quite seriously, but there was a fire, an absolute unwavering and near inflated level of determination in his eyes. Green. Just a scorching, burning green.

And Gladio remembers thinking,

Oh.

And that was that.

 Unpopular opinion, but football is just football.

Gladio never pushed to be Quarterback, because he’d rather some other kid take the scholarships. It’s not like Gladio needs them, (he’s kinda’ got job security for life) but he’s six-six at eighteen and fast on his feet so they keep him a wide receiver, and Gladio doesn’t mind. You throw him somethin’, he’ll catch it. Football was always good excuse to bulk up during school anyways, so the pros outweigh the cons.

And if we’re being honest here, it’s a foolproof way to pick up chicks.

He doesn’t remember her name, but she’s got fire-red hair and a sick rack, and that’s the only way he can tell her apart from all the other cheerleaders. She kinda’ tastes like Hot Tamales, and that’s oddly fitting? He finds it more amusing than anything.

Reddy begins to undo the top buttons on her shirt – but people are starting to fill the bleachers on top of them, and Gladio remembers why he’s here in the first place. She’s wearing that lip-gloss shit that Gladio hates, so he pats her hip and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Alright, bounce.”

She pulls back and scoffs, “Excuse me.”

“I got a game,” Gladio jabs his thumb behind him.

She rolls her eyes, “You can’t fuck me for five minutes?”

Gladio could, but he doesn’t want to, so,

“No.”

She rights her shirt and sighs – but she looks up through her lashes and still manages to look a little smug.

“You’ll call me?”

“Maybe,” Gladio says. She grips his chin and presses a fat one on the corner of his mouth, and walks away. Gladio huffs and scrubs it off again.

He wasn’t really planning on sucking face under the bleachers for the last ten minutes, but you know. Shit happens.

Gladio walks to the edge of the field, where students are filtering in. He knows Ignis said something about being late, but a part of Gladio was hoping to catch him before the game. He waits by the corner, and more students filter in, but he doesn’t see Iggy. Noctis and Prompto come to the games sometimes, but they’ve been planning an arcade-style pub crawl for a month, so he’s not disappointed.

He waits long enough to know Coach is probably having a hay day, so Gladio shrugs it off and hopes, distantly, that Ignis does really show up.

Razzar Tech has some big fuckin’ linebackers. The kinda’ guys you look at and know you’re gonna’ feel sore from tomorrow (ha).

Nyx is on his game today. Tight passes, good calls. They’re getting sacked, but Nyx keeps the offense moving. He’s the one guy on the team that Gladio might actually keep in touch with after highschool. They both plan on entering the Glaive after graduation, so he’s gotta’ keep on his game if he wants to make basic training.

 Gladio catches what he’s thrown, and takes a few heavy hits, but nothing he can’t shrug off. He checks the bleachers obsessively.

It’s not like he means to. He just can’t help it; when he stops to drink, he looks to the crowd with a flicker of hope.

Ignis has never been to any of their games, because he has a billion better things to do with his time. It’s not like they aren’t friends but —

People like Ignis don’t really hang out with people like Gladio. Different social circles, different everything. They both come from noble blood, but Gladio still can’t help but feel like he’ll never be on Ignis’s societal class level.

Iggy is just. Perfect. Everything about him is perfect. His hair and his eyes and his teeth, his grades and his brain, fuck, he’s so smart. He’s tall and strong and he wears nice button-downs despite the lack of a dress code. Shit, don’t even get Gladio started on his voice. Ignis juggles life so seamlessly, everything he does is simply breathtaking.

Gladio is head over fuckin’ tits, and he doesn’t stand a goddamn chance.

 But Gladio is stubborn if anything, and he figures if he can’t kick these feelings after six years, then they’re here to stay, so he might as well face this shit head on.

He checks the bleachers. There are kids dressed in their black and yellow school colors, and a few in the rival blue. Gladio listens for Nyx’s call, and when he hears the play, he takes off around the Razzar linebackers. He’s able to break off and steer to the left – and he manages to get a good distance relatively quickly.

He’s not sure what dumbshit deity takes possession of his brain, but Gladio chooses that exact moment to glance to the right, and look at the bleachers.

And there, at the chainlink fence. Ignis is standing in an Insomnia High sweatshirt, staring directly at him.

Gladio feels a bright hot excitement shoot right through him. He smiles around his mouthguard, heart beating up in his throat because he’s here, he’s –

The ball flies over his head, and Gladio gets sacked right off his feet.

 Ignis is waiting for him afterwards. Arms tucked behind his back, a softer look resting on his face.

“That is quite the shiner you have there.”

“I’m glad you got to see that,” Gladio grins through the embarrassment, pressing a hand to the bruised side of his face.

“What good are the helmets if not to protect your face?”

“It’s all a part of the game.”

“It always seemed a bit barbaric to me.”

“Hey, Gladio!” Adias calls. “Are you coming to the afterparty?”

Ignis tips his head, and Gladio waves him off, “Nah, go ahead.”

“Won’t be the same without you bro!”

“You’ll manage,” Gladio grunts.

“We can reschedule if you’d like,” Ignis says.

“No!” Gladio says, too fast. Ignis blinks, and Gladio blinks back. “Uh, you’re always crazy busy man. I feel like I never see ya’.” He grins and begins to walk, playing it off, “Besides, there’ll be a hundred more parties before the end of the year.”

“Unfortunately,” Ignis says, falling in step with him. “I worry for our class graduation rate.” He turns his head, looking up at Gladio and stopping his heart twice over. “Are you sure you are fit to drive?”

“Please, I can ride in my sleep.”

“Then I shall meet you there,” Ignis says.

Gladio smirks, “What, not a fan of bikes?”

“I don’t find it criminal to prefer four wheels rather than two.”

“I’ll make you eat those words one day,” he smiles. Ignis looks back up at him, and for a moment his eyes shine over. He blinks it away, and asks coolly,

“Are we meeting at Benny’s?”

“Yup.”

It’s only after Gladio is halfway there, idling at a red light, does he realize with horror that he asked Ignis out to pizza.

There’s only been a handful of times that Gladio has been able to experience Iggy’s cooking – but fuck, that guy can cook. He’s not sure where he finds the time, but jeez, it’s like asking Gordon Ramsay out to McDonalds.

He’s red in the face by the time he’s parked. Gladio scrubs his cheek and wonders if he should ask Ignis if he’d like to go somewhere else instead. Jeez, will it sound too much like a date then? Ignis is too polite to tell him if he hates the food, Astrals—

But Ignis pulls up in the parking spot beside him, old jalopy and all, and pulls the keys from the ignition, nearly passing Gladio on the way inside.

“Quit idling, I’m craving those cinnamon sticks,” Ignis says, nodding a thank you when Gladio jogs to hold the door.

“Shit, fuck yeah. The ones with the icing?”

“Well what else? Cheese? Don’t make me laugh.”

Gladio snickers, and feels less nervous when they order and take a seat at the booth. His face is throbbing, and he hasn’t looked at it since he was in the locker room, but it’s probably none too pretty. Ignis crosses one leg over the other, and rests an arm over the back of the booth, and he looks way too classy for this place, even dressed down in an INH sweatshirt.

Suddenly, Gladio is at a complete and utter loss at what to say. His heartrate spikes because this is his game – sweettalking chicks and using his wit to get out of sticky situations. But his throat has gone dry, and all he can do is stare as Ignis pushes up his glasses, and stares back.

Fuck, come on. Say something, think of anything – conversation starters, the weather, the Citadel, think —

“You’re in Mr. Manoma’s English class, correct?” Ignis asks, saving the fucking day.

“Yuup.”

“What were your thoughts on Catch-22?” Ignis nods, “If I so remember the conversation we had on New Year’s, you have a refreshingly unique interpretation of literature.”

Gladio lights up, finally in his own domain. He doesn’t get to talk about books much with the guys, so he fiddles with his drink, and the words bubble out of him.

“I thought it was genius. Everyone else was all bent outta’ shape over the nonchronological storytelling but – that’s what makes it so fuckin’ good.”

“My classmates struggled as well. I was rather taken with the suspense, but I suppose not everyone prefers the same cup of tea.”

“I wasn’t a Dracula fan,” Gladio rubs his nose. “But I read all of Catch in one night. I couldn’t put it down, man.”

Ignis smiles – not fully, but a small twitch of his lips, “I was much the same. I suppose you stayed up until morning as well?”

Gladio laughs, “Yeah-“ but he stops, flinching when the side of his face starts to ache. Ignis frowns sympathetically,

“You ought to ice that.”

“Eh. I’ll do it at home.” Gladio leans his elbow on the table, and rests his head in his hand. “What’d you think of Outliers?”

Ignis hums thoughtfully, tapping the corner of his lips, and Gladio absolutely loses all sense of time. He has to physically tear his gaze away from Iggy’s mouth, but it’s hard, when he’s hanging onto every single word he says.

The pizza comes, and Gladio manages to dump a whole container of ranch on his lap.

“Not your day, is it?” Ignis smiles, handing him a wad of napkins.

Gladio can’t come up with an answer. He dabs away at his jeans, and still can’t bring himself to look away.

It’s not fair. Humans shouldn’t be this pretty. He thinks Ignis might be laughing at him, but it doesn’t matter, so long as he’s laughing at all.

 If he’s not at school and he’s not at practice, then it’s likely you’ll find Gladio at the Citadel.

He’s free to use the gym here, and the training mats have weapons available for use, so it’s good practice. Gladio is going to enter Glaive training after highschool, it’s only a matter of being prepared for that entrance exam.

It’s not much of a rarity to see Noctis here, (although it’s usually against his will). Cor handed his ass to him on a silver platter, and left him to do reps against the punching bags. As soon as Cor walked out that door, Noctis sat on the mat and pulled out his phone.

“You know…” Gladio starts, mid-pull up, “if you practice, you won’t get your shit kicked so bad.”

Noctis lifts a middle finger.

“Fuck off.”

Gladio snorts, “What happened? You’re not usually such a wuss.”

“Up late studying with Ignis,” Noctis sighs, flopping back on the mat. He spreads his arms, “Apparently a C is unacceptable.”

Gladio wrinkles his nose, not really one to talk. “What class?”

“Math.”

“Yeah, I’m not much help there bub.”

“Yeah, and waters wet.”

He laughs when Gladio sticks out his tongue. Noctis then sighs, “I love Iggy to death but god, I wish he’d just get off my case.”

“You know he just cares about you.”

A sniff. “I know.”

Gladio drops down from the bar. He rubs his nose. “So um. How’s he doing?”

Noctis turns his head, very deliberately. He blinks slowly, and drawls, “Good?”

“He um. Say anything about me?”

“I am not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Getting in the middle of your little-“ Noctis gestures, “-thing with Ignis. I ain’t that stupid.”

Gladio huffs, trying not to turn red, “What thing?”

“Wow, you must really think I’m an idiot, huh?”

Gladio groans, and knocks his head back against the post on the pullup bar. “If you’re not going to help me, then shut up.”

Noctis grabs at his toes, and he looks like a little baby.

“Why do you wanna’ know if he said anything about you anyways?”

“Cause I tried to hang with him last Friday and made a complete dipshit out of myself.”

“Am I supposed to act surprised?”

“One more quip and I’m gonna’ come over there and kick your fuckin’ ass.”

Noctis snickers. “I’ve never seen you chicken out so bad before. And like, I’ve seen you catch a lot of tail dude. Like, a lot of tail. Like a lot-“

“I get it, alright?!”

Noctis rolls on his stomach, and props his head in his hand, elbows digging into the mat. He has a grin on his face, which is bad, because it means he has Noctis’s attention.

“Oohh, that tone. This isn’t just about pulling ass, is it?”

“Can you watch your fuckin’ mouth?”

“You liiiiike him like him. This is too good, dude. Big Bad Gladio, most popular guy at INH, has a crush. They said it couldn’t be done.”

“I’m going to start ignoring you now.”

“You want my opinion?”

“No.”

“I think you should give it a shot,” Noctis says, rolling back over. “But I’m legally unable to say anything else.”

“Thank god,” Gladio mumbles. Cor walks back into the room, and Gladio has never seen Noctis scramble to his feet so fast.

 It’s not often that he sees Ignis eating alone. They’d probably eat together, if the sophomores didn’t have a separate lunch; but alas Prompto and Noctis are on the B schedule, and Ignis runs in a different friend group, so there’s never been a reason to deliberately cross their circles.

But Ignis is alone at his table, and he’s reading on his phone while he eats – and hey, Gladio is an opportunistic guy, so he slides in next to him.

“What’s up?”

Ignis looks up immediately, and offers a nod, “Afternoon.”

“Where are your pals?”

Ignis hums, and stirs his fork around in something that’s definitely not a school lunch.

“Mathlete tournament. Today is their match at Sunset High.”

“Aren’t you a Mathlete?”

“Was,” Ignis stresses. “But it bored me after the second year.”

Gladio snorts, and picks up the bread roll off his plate.

“Surprise surprise. What is that?”

“This?” Ignis gestures with his fork. “Just a fettucine alfredo. I was experimenting with the sauce. I think my balance of cream cheese and parmesan is a tad off.”

“Hey, it beats –“ Gladio knocks his roll against the edge of the table, and it makes a sound not too dissimilar to a rock.

Ignis actually laughs. It’s a short chuckle, but it lights his insides on fire. Gladio sets the roll back down dazedly, and Ignis leans his head in his hand, clicking off his phone for good. He gives Gladio his full attention.

“What are you doing?”

It catches Gladio off guard a little. He looks over his shoulder, and gestures to his friends – of which, Tsomu is currently laying head down on the table, while Adias pours cereal in his mouth. Nyx swoops in with the milk, and there’s screaming as he gurgles.

“Wasn’t exactly chompin’ at the bit to be puked on.”

Ignis lifts a brow, and takes another bite.

“Indeed.”

 Gladio goes for the pizza on his school plate, and folds it like a taco. He’s hoping food will do something to calm down his stomach. Ignis stares at him, and it only serves the jerk in his gut. Fuck, get it together. Words, you got this.

“So uh,” Gladio starts. “Blondie and Noct are stayin’ at my place tonight.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Just movies and junkfood and shit.”

“A recipe for a good time, I presume.”

“Do you wanna’ come?” Gladio blurts. Ignis blinks, and Gladio shrugs to play off the hope in his voice. “I mean, you don’t gotta’ stay the night. But we’re just gonna’ hang.” Ignis opens his mouth, and Gladio stammers, “I mean. You don’t have to –“

“I’d love to come,” Ignis says, before Gladio can shove his foot, leg, and arm in his mouth. He nearly sighs in relief. He scratches at his stubble.  

“Cool.”

“It’s your new flat, correct? I don’t believe I know the address.”

“Oh, I’ll text it to you. It’s not far from the school.”

“Lovely. Do you enjoy living alone?”

Gladio shrugs, “I’m an independent guy anyways. When the citadel said they’d pay the bill, I wasn’t gonna’ complain. House was gettin’ a little cramped anyways.”

“I will look forward to seeing it then,” Ignis says, and Gladio smiles, and then proceeds to knock over Ignis’s canned coffee with his elbow. Fuck, good job Gladio, gold metals all around.

“God – dammit,” Gladio curses, catching the can before it can hit the ground. “Fuck, I’ll buy you another one.” Ignis turns his head and covers his mouth, and Gladio scoffs, “Are you laughing at me?”

“No,” Ignis says, and his eyes betray him. “But I’m beginning to worry that you live alone.”

“Oh ha-ha,” Gladio sniffs, wiping up the spill with his wad of napkins, but he looks back up and Ignis is smiling, so it must be okay.

Iggy is the only guy in this hellhole that can wear a purple dress shirt and heeled boots and look good. He looks like he’s growing out his hair, because he’s started to push it back, and it really works for him.

Honestly, Gladio isn’t expecting Ignis to come at all. But he appreciates the gentle letdown anyways.

 The bell rings, and they part ways, and Gladio tries not to get his hopes up. Fuck, it’s embarrassing that he even has hope to begin with. He falls asleep in geology, and stops by the market on the way home to pick up snacks.

He’s got a basket full of chips and soda and the taffy sticks Prompto likes, and Gladio hesitates in the isle, wondering if there’s anything Ignis would want.

Fuck, like Ignis is even gonna’ show up. Prim and proper and – fuck, he makes his own alfredo sauce, his idea of a good time is definitely not Hot Cheetos and a Fast and Furious marathon.

Gladio resists the urge to cringe himself to death in the middle of a grocery store. Ramuh, he’s a moron.

Prompto and Noctis show up together. Prompto waves off a car in the parking lot, and Gladio tries to wave to his mom.

“I could’ve picked you guys up,” Gladio says, shutting the door. Prompto and Noctis immediately drop their bags at the door.

“Yeah right, I’m not sitting on that deathtrap,” Noctis says, kicking off his shoes and making himself right at home, the little asshole.

Prompto bounces on his feet, taking off his boots. “I totally would, but my parents would kill me.”

“There’s more car accidents than motorcycle crashes.”

“There’s also double the cars, shut up. Where’s the food?”

“Needy little fuck, aren’t you?” Gladio tosses Noctis a bag of Doritos, and Noctis makes a happy humming sound. His dad would be horrified at the way he talks to Noct, but the kid hates when he’s treated like a prince, so Gladio doesn’t.

Prompto takes a running jump on the couch and spreads out, grinning,

“Dude! You got furniture!”

Gladio laughs, making for the armchair, “Yeah its…something.”

“Is this a side table?” Noctis gasps, running his hand over the wood.

“Yup. Bye-bye fruit crates.”

Noctis and Prompto giggle, and Gladio reaches for the remote.

“So, what. Are we starting with the first movie?”

“Ugh, can we just skip to Fast Five? That’s the best one anyways.”

“No way dude, that’s like skipping to the back of the book.”

“I do that anyways.”

“You’re a heathen,” Gladio says.

The doorbell rings. Prompto and Noctis look to each other, and then at Gladio. The thing is, Gladio looks just as surprised as them.

“Who’s that?”

 “I uh. Invited Ignis,” Gladio says, rising slowly out of the chair.

Prompto lights up, “Oh, cool!”

Noctis blinks once, and then a fat, shit-eating grin crawls from ear to ear. Gladio points as he crosses the room,

“Don’t.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m fuckin’ serious. I’ll throw you off that balcony.”

Noctis pulls down his eye and sticks out his tongue, and Prompto is the physical embodiment of a confused puppy.

Gladio looks in the peephole, and then throws the deadbolt with a twist in his chest.

“Hey.”

Ignis nods, “Hello.”

There’s a backpack over his shoulder, and he’s still in the clothes he was wearing earlier. Gladio wouldn’t be surprised if he went straight to the citadel after school.

Holy shit, he actually showed up.

Ignis blinks, waiting to be let in, and Gladio jerks the door open,

“Oh uh, come in.”

“Am I late?”

“Nah, they just got here.”

Ignis looks up, and around his living room. “It’s roomier than I expected.”

“You shoulda’ seen it before,” Prompto says. “He was using a cardboard box as a kitchen table.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey Specs,” Noctis waves, not looking up from his phone, and Ignis hangs his bag politely on one of the kitchen chairs.

“Noct, Prompto.”

“You’re just in time to play tiebreaker,” Prompto says. “Fast and Furious one or five?”

Ignis scoffs, “Well, five of course,” effectively shocking Gladio down to his goddamn core. “It’s the complete turning point of the series.”

Noctis throws up his arms, “That’s what I’m saying!” Ignis highfives him over the back of the couch, and Gladio seriously begins to wonder if he’s had Ignis wrong this whole time.

But no, Ignis takes a seat on the edge of the couch, and crosses one long leg over the other, and manages to look distinguished as he dips his hand in Noctis’s chip bag.

Gladio fights a smile. Just when he thinks it impossible to like him any more than he already does, Ignis finds a way.

Gladio flops back in the armchair and clicks through Netflix.

“Five it is then.”

 They wake up, uh, everywhere.

His neck is sore from crashing on the loveseat, so he winces as he sits up. Gladio rubs out the knot, and tries to pop his back as he yawns. He nearly cuts off in a laugh as soon as he looks to the couch. Noctis and Prompto are both half-slung over the edge, Prompto’s foot wedged up under Noctis’s chin, four sets of arms twisted and gripped around the other’s legs.

There’s a clatter in the kitchen, and Gladio jerks, suddenly wide awake.

Ignis is in the same pants he wore last night, but he changed out of his shirt and into a hoodie. He’s hugging himself, hip up against the counter – and wow. Wow. He looks all sleepy and his hair is half down and, fuck. 

“Good morning,” Ignis says.

Ah, shit. Gladio rubs at his hair, and bends over, elbows on his knees.

“Hey.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Ignis gestures, and Gladio has to squint to realize he’s using a mug.

“Nah,” Gladio waves. “I owed you coffee anyways.”

Ignis snorts, and Gladio smiles, still rubbing out his hair. He looks back over at the couch and nearly laughs.

“Where’d you crash last night?”

“The floor, I believe.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“No worries,” Ignis says. “I stole all the cushions anyways.”

A closer look, and Gladio realizes half the couch pillows are gone. Gladio laughs, and then slaps a hand over his mouth to avoid waking the other two. Ignis takes a long sip, and Gladio wishes he could see his eyes behind the glint of his glasses.

Damn, why his heart hammering so fast.

The apartment is kind of a wreck. Wrappers and soda cans and shirts half-thrown around. Gladio really wasn’t planning on staying up till three in the morning, but he should’ve expected the kids to come down with a serious case of the giggles.

Gladio stretches his arms above his head, and then sways to his feet.

“Anything left in the pot?”

“Just enough,” Ignis says. He waves him off and reaches right where Gladio keeps his mugs, “Stay, I’ll grab it for you.”

Gladio approaches anyways. He leans up against the bar, and watches Ignis pour a second cup of coffee. Somehow, he knows to add just the right amount of creamer. He passes Gladio the mug, and he takes it, careful their fingers don’t touch.

One sip, and Gladio nearly chokes.

“There’s no way this is my coffee.”  

“It is what I found in the pantry.”  

“Shit.” He takes another sip. It’s good. “You must be magic.”

Ignis smiles, and leans his shoulder back against the fridge. His gaze drops, and Gladio realizes that he lost his own shirt somewhere last night. Ignis grabs his mug, and gestures with it.

“You completed it.”

“Huh?” Gladio looks down. His shoulder is still a little agitated from his latest trip to the tattoo parlor. “Oh, no, not yet.” He turns, “I still have some feathers on the back left.”

Ignis hums.

“It’s stunning.”

Gladio bites his lip to keep his face from burning. He goes to turn his head, “I would’ve had it colored in one session, but my artist said – “ he freezes.

Cold fingers press between his shoulder blades. The touch is soft – horribly brief, tracing down a few bumps in his spine before they’re pulling away. Gladio’s heart squirms up into his throat, and his breath sucks straight out of his lungs. He clears his throat, and finishes, lower this time.

“Um. Said it…wasn’t a good idea.”

“Surely,” Ignis says, taking a step back. “It’s quite massive.”

Gladio turns.There’s something different, now. Something in the way Ignis is staring at him. Gladio is suddenly horrified of popping the bubble around them. He stares, and Ignis stares back, and his worrying was all for naught, because there’s a short squeak as Prompto falls off the couch.

“Noct!”

“Mhmnn.”

“You asshole!” Prompto yanks on Noctis’s pantleg, and sends him down to the floor as well.

“Ow – fuck.”

“You kicked me off!”

“Innumh wha?”

“We have briefings at ten, your highness,” Ignis says. Noctis lets out a long, agonizing groan, and face plants into the carpet.

“Reschedule.”

“You really want to be the one to tell your dad why you can’t make it?” Gladio grins. Prompto crawls over Noctis and sits on his back, playing the imaginary drums on his shoulders.

“We can play Justice Monsters when you get back!”

“Ngh, get off.”

Noctis’s hair is nearly standing completely on end, and Gladio bites back a laugh.

“Quite convenient that we’re here,” Ignis says, setting down the mug with a clink. “You can help me carry him to my car.”

“Ohh, Iggy, do you think you can give me a ride too?”

“Of course.”

“Alright princess,” Gladio snorts. “Up and at ‘em.”

He does actually carry Noctis back to Ignis’s car. It’s funny, given that this guy was talking a million miles a minute about the universe at two in the morning, and now he’s dead weight in his arms.

Prompto loads up in the back, all their bags under their arms, and Gladio fist bumps him before his hair disappears under the roof. Noctis is already asleep in the passenger seat, and Ignis crosses around to the driver’s side.

Ignis opens the door, and then pauses, looking up over the hood. Ignis has long fixed his hair, but there’s still something sleep-soft about the look on his face. It’s not something Gladio has ever gotten the chance to see, and he feels like he can’t memorize it enough.

“Thank you for having me,” Ignis says.

Gladio grins, “Anytime.”

Ignis nods, and when he’s pulled out of the parking lot and down the street, Gladio presses a fist to his forehead and cringes.

‘Anytime’, fuckin’ Six, can you be any more embarrassing?

 His mouth tastes like throat lozenges.

Nyx had slapped Gladio on the back after practice, and said “Hey, party at Nomora’s,” and he heard something about free alcohol, so Gladio was game.

He’s had a few shots, but he doesn’t really feel that buzzed. Thus, the curse of a large BMI. Great for football, bad for getting shitfaced.

The alcohol is kinda’ cheep anyways, so he’s not really clambering to do any keg stands. Adias calls him a wuss, so Gladio flings him over his shoulder and holds him over the ledge of the bannister, and nobody really bugs him after that.

Well, besides the guy who tastes like a cherry Ricola. Gladio will be the first to say he’s pretty hot, but fuck if he remembers his name. He’s tiny, bleached blonde hair and dark roots, a wicked tongue ring and piercings up his ear. Gladio presses a hand to his back, and it nearly swallows him up – he’s shifting around in his lap, and that would be great, but Gladio catches him looking across the room every so often, so Gladio pulls back and grunts.

“Alright, scram.”

The guy pulls back and glares,

“Huh?”

Gladio swats his hip.

“I’m bored, go.”

Not really true, but he’s not gonna’ fuck someone who’s obviously trying to make some other dude jealous. Gladio has some standards, thanks.

He clicks his tongue and huffs, but doesn’t give much of a fight. Gladio stretches an arm over the back of the couch and spreads his knees, tipping his head back and breathing in to fight some of the fire in his blood. The alcohol definitely isn’t helping there. The guy disappears into the crowd, and thus his chance of getting laid tonight

Music is thumping in his ears. There’s some screaming coming from the pool, but it’s fuckin’ March; so, way too cold for that shit.

A girl is staring at him from across the living room. Gladio arches an eyebrow, and she turns up her nose. Whatever.

He’s fortunate to have been out of the closet for as long as he can remember. He likes dudes just as much as he likes chicks; if anyone’s got somethin’ to say about it, they can say it to his face.

Gladio sighs, and rubs over his eyes. Man, he’s really not feelin’ it tonight. He hasn’t screwed anyone since that glasses girl, and that ended with Gladio nearly saying the wrong name in bed so, maybe he should just give it up for a while.

“Gladdy-oooo,” Tsomu appears, a bottle in hand. “Tequila?”

Yeah, whatever.

Gladio tips his head back and opens his mouth, and people start to cheer. When he finishes the last quarter, Tsomu grabs him by the wrist and lifts up his arm in triumph, and Gladio hears muffled shouting amongst the music.

That’s the last thing he remembers.

He comes to in Ignis’s car.

Wait.

“What the fu-“ Gladio snaps up, hand pressing up against the window, and Ignis looks at him with way too much amusement.

“Oh, hello.”

“Holy shit,” Gladio feels over his forehead, “what’s going on?”

“Hmm, well,” Ignis points to the clock on the dashboard, “it is currently five in the morning. I received a text from you two hours ago that said, quote, ‘help, I’m way too fucking drunk’.”

“Oh god.”

“It took some time to coax your location out of you,” Ignis says. He looks way too put together for five in the morning.

He hasn’t hung out with Ignis since he spent the night at his apartment a couple weeks ago. Gladio was really hoping the next time he’d see him out of school, it would be doing something fun like bowling or dinner or literally anything but this.

“I’m…so fuckin’ sorry, dude.”

“No apologies needed,” Ignis says. “I’m relieved that you have so much trust in me.”

Gladio sinks a little in the seat. It’s hard, given that there’s not much leg room for him up in the front, but he crosses his arms and uses the window to cool down his face.

“Close your eyes,” Ignis says. “I will wake you when we reach your apartment.”

Gladio does, a little. His head is swimming, and he’s very much still drunk, and it takes way too much concentration not to barf all over Iggy’s dash. But he gazes through his lashes, and watches Ignis drive, and the sickness twists into something else. Iggy is focused, one hand on the wheel, and he’s so fuckin’ handsome and so fuckin’ beautiful, he’d punch a hundred guys for him. He’d fight the sun, fuck, he’d fight –

He realizes that Ignis is trying to coax him up the stairs of his apartment complex. Hm, moving his legs would probably help. To his (secret) delight, Ignis is supporting a large amount of his weight without much strain. He’s going to have to think about that later when he’s sober, for sure.

“Thanks Iggy,” Gladio exhales, fumbling with his keys. Ignis takes them from him, and his hands are really soft.

“You are welcome.”

He doesn’t remember much else. He must’ve made it to the bed, because when he wakes up, there’s a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin sitting at his bedside.

Gladio pulls at his hair and grits his teeth, and hell does it fuck with his hangover, but he deserves the pain.

Great job, A plus all around. Call the dude you’re crushin’ on while you’re half-drowned out of your stupid mind.

This is hopeless.

But he looks to the glass of water at the side table, and still feels that pull in his chest. It never goes away.

 Gladio lays on the gym mat and stares at the ceiling. Sweat is drying his hair, and his entire body is sore, but the anxiousness doesn’t leave. 

“You’re dumb,” Noctis says, picking something out of his teeth with a training dagger.

Yeah. Probably.

 “Iggy!”

He turns at hearing his name. Gladio jogs to catch up, and Ignis waves off his friends, pausing in the hallway.

“Gladio.”

“Been lookin’ for ya’,” Gladio says, shoving his textbook up under his arm so he can put his hands in his pockets. “I wanted to apologize for last weekend.”

“I already said, there are no apologies needed.” Ignis pauses, “Perhaps you didn’t remember.”

“No – I just wanted to make it up to you,” Gladio shrugs. “You’re a coffee fan, right? There’s that new place that just popped up by my apartment.”

“Coffee Palace,” Ignis says. “I’ve been there, it’s expensive, but quite good.”

 “Oh.”

Ignis’s half-smiles, and the mask slips, showing amusement in his eyes — as if he gets a kick out of making Gladio squirm.

“I’d love to go. But I have council meetings until three, and then I have an appointment with the minister at four.”

“You busy before school tomorrow?”

“Hmm,” Ignis braces a finger beneath his chin. “Just a group study, but I suppose I can do without.”

Gladio grins, “Well I don’t wanna’ make you cancel your exciting plans.”

Ignis rolls his eyes, and opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by –

“Gladio!”

Oh shit. Name, name. Black hair, blue eyes, cheer team, uhhhh –

“Rachael,” Ignis waves. Oh thank god.

She beams, “Hey Ignis!”

Gladio nods, “What’s up Rach?” Smooth.

“I need you to settle a bet for me,” she winks, and pats his arm. “The girls won’t shut up in the locker room.”

“Oh?”

“Tell me, do you already have a date for prom?”

Ignis turns to look at him, and Gladio’s brain stammers to come up with an answer.

“Uhh, no. Prom isn’t really my thing.”

She pouts, “Really? You’re not going?”

Gladio feels panic squeeze in his throat. No, technically, but he was kinda’ sorta’ hoping to ask Ignis over coffee tomorrow, but he can’t exactly say that out loud.

“Nope,” he settles on.

“Aww man,” she frowns. “Well, I guess no one wins.”

He snickers, “What does that mean?”

“It means broken hearts, buddy.” She pats his arm again, squeezing once before waving at Ignis. “Bye bye!”

He nods, and Rachel rejoins her friends. Gladio lifts an eyebrow, and Ignis begins to walk, pace slow, suggesting Gladio should follow.

“I’m pleased to find we have similar outlooks,” Ignis says, shifting the books in his arms.

“Hm?”

“I detest the senior prom. We’ve done nothing but plan for months – if I must hear one more complaint about the music I will make them dance in silence.”

Ahh, damn. Well, there goes that.

He fakes a laugh, and elbows Ignis, “What, not a fan of parties?”

“I’m not a fan of prom. You plan an event and try to enjoy it,” Ignis snuffs. “Impossible.”

“So you’re not going?”

“Excuse me, but hell no. I’ll likely enjoy a good book and retire early.”

Gladio isn’t lying when he says, “You know, that sounds like my kinda’ night.”

Ignis stops at one of the doorways and nods, “Tomorrow for coffee, then?”

“Yup.”

Gladio waves goodbye, and the sting of disappointment isn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

Nothing special happens, really. They meet for coffee an hour before school starts, and sit at one of the open tables. Ignis orders a black coffee and pours about half a container of sugar in there, but Gladio has learned better than to question him.

They talk about random stuff. It’s nice to see Ignis become more talkative – and not in a bad way. Ignis is looser around him, and it’s a euphoric feeling to see Ignis talk with his hands as he goes on about retainer training.

Gladio takes a bite out of a bagel and grunts, 

“So are you planning on university?”

“Not currently,” Ignis says, surprisingly. “I’m going to join the Kingsglaive program.”

Gladio nearly knocks over his coffee — nearly, Ignis has become too fast. He moves it right out of the line of his elbow.

“You – what?”

“Well, strength is just as important as any other part of my job as a retainer,” Ignis says.

“But you’re not a scrub. You n’ I took the same self-defense classes.”

“Yes, but that’s different. I want to be able to protect Noct.”

Gladio grins, “That’s my job.”

Ignis nods, “And mine.”

There’s a buzz between them. Something tense, like plucking a wire – but it’s not bad. It’s actually kind of exhilarating. To look someone in the eye that has the same burning desire that you do.

Gladio can’t fight off the smile, “You’re gonna’ be a great retainer.”

He must’ve caught Ignis off guard, because he looks down to his drink and picks at the label with his thumbnail.

“Shield is fitting of you,” Ignis says, almost whispered.

They don’t say anything else. Gladio’s stomach tightens with every moment, and he clenches his teeth to lock the words behind his tongue. Ignis’s eyelashes are long and downturned, and his lips are slightly parted in thought, and Gladio swallows the feeling back.

It’s a Friday night, and he’s laying in bed.

Which wouldn’t be a big deal. He’s got about half a dozen books he keeps buying but won’t fuckin’ read, and there’s homework he should start on –

But it’s prom night.

Gladio isn’t really all that disappointed. Suits and pictures and yada yada – gross, not really his thing. But…he can’t help but feel disheartened that he won’t get to experience it with Ignis.

Hell, that’s even if he would’ve said yes.

Gladio can’t help but wonder.

His ceiling is boring and white, and he’s already checked through all his social media, and nobody’s around because hello, they’re at senior prom.

He wonders what Ignis is doing. Somehow, no matter the thought, his brain always drifts back to Ignis. It’s inevitable.

Gladio sits up straight in bed, and stares forward at the wall. He makes a decision, right there and then.

Gladio throws his legs out of bed, grabs his leather jacket and plucks his helmet off the table. Heart in his throat and through shaking hands, he grits his teeth and swallows it, steadying his nerves and speeding down the road with a pointed, soul-burning determination.

Ignis’s car is the only one in the driveway, and Gladio is relieved that he doesn’t have to worry about Ignis’s uncle running out to chase him off with a baseball bat.

He’s only been over a couple times, but he knows which room is Iggy’s. He can see a light through the drawn curtains. He cuts the engine to his bike and flips the kickstand, sniffing once from the night air.

Gladio peeks in the planter, and sees a few quarter-sized pebbles in the dirt, so he picks out a few, and wonders if he can throw it to the second floor without busting the window.

He tosses the first pebble, and it hits the wall. This neighborhood is quiet, so the clatter sounds especially loud. Gladio checks behind him; there’s no one around.

He throws a second rock, and nails the top corner. Tossing the pebble once in his hand, he throws the third, and hits the glass right on. Sweet.

Gladio picks up another stone.

Clink.

Come on Ignis.

He grabs one more, drawing his arm back to toss it, but the blinds sweep to the side. Gladio grins ear to ear, giddiness bubbling in his chest as Ignis’s head pops into view. He stares a moment, before flipping the latch and pushing up the window.

“Hey!” Gladio calls.

Ignis stares down at him. He sets his arms in the windowsill, and lifts an eyebrow.

“I have a cell phone.”

“But that’s not as fun.”

Ignis blinks.

“Why are you here?”

“It’s prom night,” Gladio says.

“And?”

“Let’s go do something.”

Gladio holds up his extra helmet. Ignis recoils,

“Not a chance am I getting on that thing.”

“Come on, please? I’m a safe driver, I promise.”

Ignis stares. Gladio holds the helmet up above his head.

“Do I need to sing?”

“Please,” Ignis rolls his eyes, but a laugh simmers out of him. “This isn’t a musical.”

“It could be.”

Ignis stares a moment longer, before his shoulders sag in defeat.

“Stay there,” he points, and shuts the window. Gladio bites his lip through a smile. Ignis appears through his front door a few moments later, dressed in a coat and jeans. Astrals, he’s so handsome.

Gladio hands him the helmet, and Ignis looks at it wearily.

“We won’t go far,” Gladio says, looking up to check the sky before he puts on his helmet. Clear – not even an overcast. Perfect.

“I’ve never ridden on one of these before,” Ignis says.

“Just hold onto me, and lean when I do.” Gladio kicks a leg over and starts the engine. Ignis hesitates, before sliding on the helmet and climbing on the back. He tentatively sets his hands at Gladio’s waist, but when he lifts the kickstand, those hands grip tight around his stomach. Gladio laughs, “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

Ignis doesn’t answer. So Gladio lifts his foot and gasses it – and the hands in his shirt squeeze even tighter. Gladio breathes out shakily, because even with the wind whipping past them, he can feel Ignis’s body heat.

He takes it a little slower than usual, and tries to pay extra attention to the road. The moon is getting higher, and the city lights fade as they drive further away from downtown. They pass under streetlights, and slowly, Ignis gains confidence in him. The squeezing grip around his waist loosens – and when Gladio starts to gas it on the freeway, Ignis finally sits back a little, and looks up.

Not a lot of cars travel on this road. For a while, it’s just them, tearing past billboards and gas station signs and lines of trees. The highway rises here, and for a moment, you can see beyond the walls.

“Oh,” Ignis breathes, barely audible around the wind and the engine, but Gladio hears it all the same. Ignis tips his head, and the helmet clatters against his own, and Gladio really hopes that Iggy can’t feel him shiver.

He spots their exit, and pulls off. They’re much further away from the city now, almost at the wall. The road turns into undeveloped gravel, and they bounce a little as he climbs the rest of the hill.

“Was I the only one that just read no trespassing?” Ignis speaks, voice raised.

“We’re friends with the crown prince,” Gladio laughs. He pulls the bike to a stop, and cuts the engine, speaking lower now. “I think we’ll survive.”

Ignis leans around to look over his shoulder, and his helmet taps against Gladio’s own once more. His hands loosen, and then fall to rest at his waist again. Gladio swallows, and flips the kickstand.

“Where are we?”

“They were supposed to build some fancy homes up here,” Gladio says. “Never got the permit. Now it’s just Citadel owned dirt.”

Ignis reaches up to take off his helmet, and Gladio mirrors him. He doesn’t realize how warm Ignis was, until he’s stepping off the bike and shaking out his hair.

Gladio clears his throat, hoping to fight the heat in his face. He hangs his helmet on the handlebar and grins, “Not so bad, huh?”

“This is beautiful,” Ignis says. He steps forward, and the city lights frame his face, and Gladio feels like he can’t breathe.

Ignis steps up to the edge of the overhang, and then sits. Gladio’s immediate concern is his clothes getting dirty, but Ignis doesn’t seem to care. Gladio steps up next to him, and kicks his legs over the edge. It’s not a steep drop, but you’d definitely break an arm or two.

Ignis is quiet. He pulls his lip between his teeth, and his glasses glint from the light.

“What are you thinking about?” Gladio asks, almost nervous.

“This is much better than prom,” Ignis says, and Gladio laughs.

“Sorry to tear you away from a good book.”

“I was actually doing our geology homework.”

“On a Friday?”

“Well when else would I do it?”

Gladio chews on his thumbnail, and brings up a knee to rest his arm. Yeah, he didn’t think of that. Gladio feels like he lives a busy life, but it’s nothing compared to Ignis.

“I don’t regret not going,” Gladio says. “But I didn’t want to be alone.”

Ignis finally turns his head to look at him – and it’s completely breathtaking. The cool, masked lines of his face are all melted, eyes warm and emerald and soft – something he never thought to associate with Iggy.

But he smiles, close-lipped and easy, and says, “If we’re being honest, I felt the same way.”

Gladio breathes in, and holds it. His lips part, but the words never make it past his tongue. It hits him hard, like a hard tackle. 

Fuck, I’m in love with you.

“Graduation is in two weeks,” Ignis says, “but I’d like to think I’m still learning.” He smiles, turning back to look at the cityscape. “For one, I was unaware that parts of Insomnia are still undeveloped.” He then laughs a little, as if to himself, “And to my own chagrin, motorbikes are not as bad as I previously thought.”

Fuck. Gladio thinks. I’m in l o v e with you.

It feels like his body is going to vibrate itself apart. Like his heart is going to cut a hole in his chest and run.

“Glad to hear it,” Gladio manages.

Do it. Tell him.

Ignis pulls out his phone, mumbling, “I ought to text Prompto. He’d insist we come back to take pictures.”

Do it. Tell him!

“Yeah, good idea.”

Do it! Do it now!

Ignis bumps him with his elbow and jokes, “Do I even want to know how you found this place?”

He can’t.

“Oh, you know me,” Gladio shrugs. “Drivin’ around, looking for places to trespass.”

Ignis snorts, and the wind ruffles his hair, and with a deep pit in his stomach, Gladio realizes that he can’t do it.

He’s a coward.

Ignis takes a picture on his phone, and when the moon is almost beginning to descend, they put on their helmets, and he drives Ignis home. The hands in his shirt aren’t nearly as tight, but fuck if the grip around his heart is.

Weeks pass, and graduation comes.

Gladio can’t stand to look Ignis in the eye.

Ignis tries to wave at him in the hallway, and Gladio is too much of a fuckin’ wuss to wave back. The stunned, hurt look in Ignis’s eye pierces him right through the chest; but it’s gone in a moment, replaced with an indifferent mask and a turn of his heel, and they haven’t crossed paths since.

Ignis gives a beautiful speech at graduation. It’s professional and confident; he looks like he belongs up there, talking in front of a thousand people. He’s got so many chords around his neck, Gladio hasn’t a clue what they all mean, but Iggy is valedictorian and the student prez, and he wishes he could pick him up and squeeze him and say I’m so fucking proud of you.

Dad and Iris are in the audience, and he hears Prompto and Noctis cheer when he gets his diploma. He loses Ignis in the crowd, and that’s that.

Yeah, he’s happy to graduate highschool. But for unsaid reasons, his heart is just not in it.

Noctis and Prompto find him among the swarm of people – Gladio gets two quick hugs and then we’re off to find Iggy! And they don’t look to see if Gladio is following, assuming he already would.

But he leaves to find his family, and they celebrate with burgers, and then they go home.

The end.

There’s one single missed call from Ignis. Gladio is absolutely horrified of listening to the voicemail, so he doesn’t.

Every time he even thinks about Iggy, it churns something ugly in his chest. A black, sickly reminder of what a fuckin’ coward he is. Of the fear living in his heart.

Shields can’t afford to have fears.

This shit ends now. Foot down, boot in the dirt — he has a job to do.

It’s hard to breathe.

 He only gets a few weeks of break before Glaive training starts, so Gladio spends most of his time at the gym. Without football conditioning, it’s his only option. 

It’s easier this way. You can get lost in pushing your body to the limit – in sweating so hard you ache in your bones. It’s hard to feel shit when you’re benching three times your bodyweight.

Something punches him in the stomach. Gladio wheezes, and nearly drops the bar on his face. He sets it down and jerks up, head whipping over – and Noctis is standing with his arms crossed, peeved beyond words.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“Don’t ‘what the fuck’ me, you’re – what the fuck,” Noctis points, like that makes sense.

“Huh?”

“You really upset Iggy,” Noctis snaps. Gladio looks away, and Noctis punches his arm.

“Wh-ow!”

“Why are you ignoring him?”

“Just fuck off, alright. It’s none of your business.”  

“Hmmmm, don’t think so. What’s your deal? You guys were getting along and shit.”

Gladio shrugs. He wipes his forehead with his shirt collar, and sniffs.

“I’m not ignorin’ him. Just been busy.”

“Nice try, it’s summer vacation, and you-“ Noctis pokes him, “-are hiding in here.”

“Why am I getting chewed out by a sixteen-year-old?”

“Because you’re stupid.”

Anger swells in his blood. Gladio pushes him, and Noctis stumbles back, a little startled.

“Just stay out of it!”

Noctis breathes through his nose, blinking quickly in a very Noctis way of saying I’m trying so hard not to strangle you right now. He throws up his arms and turns, “Whatever. Come talk to me when you’re done playing around with other people’s feelings.”

Gladio looks up, stunned. He begins to say what – but Noctis stomps out the door, and slams it behind him, rattling the glass.

Gladio wipes his face with his shirt collar again – and goddammit, that pit in his stomach is back.  He lays back down and starts his reps again, hoping to sweat the feeling out of his skin.

 “Hey man.”

Gladio looks up, and grins, “Dude!” He claps Nyx’s hand, and pulls him in for a hug, slapping him once on the back. “Glad to see you made it.”

“What, you had doubts?” Nyx snickers, and swats his arm, pulling back.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d survive the entrance exam.”

 “Alright, but that shit was pretty brutal. What was the point anyways? Have Cor kick your ass around for half an hour?”

 “It’s to have your shit kicked and still live,” Gladio laughs. Cor enters the room, a few stragglers behind him, and they quiet their voices. Gladio looks around the group, and turns to Nyx, “How many you think’ll drop out before the end of the year?”

Nyx glances around the room, and then snorts, “At least half.”

The training room is different than the one Gladio is used to. This one is larger, with more upgraded weapons and heavier gym equipment.

In the back of his mind, Gladio hadn’t forgotten – but he’s still shocked silent when Ignis walks through the door.

Head held high, chin up and confident, Ignis steps right in and looks Gladio straight in the eye. Gladio doesn’t even have the shame to turn; he just stares back. Ignis silently steps in line with the other trainees, and Cor clears his throat, demanding attention.

He crosses his arms and snuffs, “So this is it.” He scratches his neck, and his gaze is heavy with judgment. “Lets hope you’re better than last year’s.”

Ignis and Gladio are the only two standing at attention; Cor clears his throat again, and the other trainees start to get the picture. Nyx is still standing with his hands in his pockets, so Gladio kicks his heel, and he jerks, squaring his shoulders.

Cor rolls his eyes.

“Alright, lets get this over with. Day one,” he starts, “Matchups.”

There’s a few groans.

Cor walks along the lineup, unphased and uncaring. “You all passed the entrance exam, but that still don’t mean shit to me. The Kingsglaive is about teamwork just as much as it is about skill, strength, and honor. Get to know your classmates, because weakness can mean life or death.” He turns, “Scientia, Valento, on the floor.”

It takes a moment for Gladio to realize he’s the only one not laughing. It takes him even longer to realize what they’re laughing at.

Datsun Valento is probably the only kid in this lineup that can rival Gladio’s size. He isn’t quite as tall, but the guy’s sure got some gains. It’s actually a relatively large lineup, which puts Ignis a bit on the slimmer side.

Ignis steps forward with no fear, arms politely at his back.

“Dude,” a kid snorts. “That’s not fair at all.”

Cor raises an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“Yeah, the guy’s a twig.”

There’s snickering from the group, and Gladio clenches his fist, grinding his teeth. He’s never thought of Ignis as a twig. But then again, Gladio knows better than anyone that Ignis is more than capable of landing anyone on their ass.

But they don’t know that.

Valento steps forward, totally overconfident.

“Til’ someone taps out,” Cor waves, crossing his arms and stepping back.

Ignis nods once, and holds out his hand. Valento shakes it with a grin. He takes his stance, and Ignis remains upright.

Cor snorts, “Whatya’ waiting for?”

Velento throws the first punch, and Gladio feels his stomach sink, because there’s power behind that fist. But Ignis sidesteps, and Velento punches again, and Ignis jabs him once in the throat.

The guy bends over and heaves, fingers scrabbling at his neck, and Ignis only blinks once.

Gladio feels himself start to smile.

Ignis is fluid and everymoving. He’s not as strong, but he’s fuckin’ fast. Backhand springs, no-handed cartwheels, he moves around like he’s teasing, and Valento can’t land a single hit. Ignis is patient; he waits for openings, only throwing in a kick when Velento is off guard. He doesn’t have the fists to throw punches around – and Iggy knows that. So he goes for soft spots; the throat, the spleen – precise and painful.

The room is stunned silent. All you can hear is Valento’s heavy breathing. Ignis quirks an eyebrow, and Gladio feels so much fuckin’ pride, it practically swallows him whole. Valento lets out a roar, and he throws a heavy punch, and Ignis works an arm on the inside, and jabs an exact hit at his chest, jamming the nerve and rendering his arm as useful as a spaghetti noodle.

Cor has a look on his face like this was his plan all along.  He nods, “Quit playin’ with him and finish the job.”

Ignis does not hesitate any further; he jumps, wraps a thigh around his head, and twists just enough for it to be painful; Valento hits the mat with a heavy thud, and Ignis presses a knee across his shoulderblades, hand gripping his hair.

It’s the hottest thing Gladio has ever seen.

Ignis is breathing heavy now, and Gladio realizes with a kick to the gut, that Ignis is staring straight at him.

Hair gripped in his fingers and face flushed, he stares into Gladio, gaze hot and scalding, like looking into the eyes of a tiger. He’s mad, and he wants Gladio to know it.

It feels like a backhand to the face.

No matter how much time passes – no matter how much Gladio digs his shovel in the dirt and buries it – he’ll always love Ignis. That’s just a fact. Day by day and year by year, Ignis just finds new ways to grab him by the neck and pull him under.

Ignis drops Valento’s head, and it smacks the mat. He continues to stare, and Gladio feels pinned where he stands. His posture is so deadly; predatorial and sharp, honed skill.

Fuck.

“Nicely done,” Cor says.

Ignis stands fluidly, all the intensity draining from him. He bows once, professionally, and moves to stand back in line. Valento is knocked out cold. Gladio still feels like he’s drowning.

“Let that be your first lesson,” Cor raises his voice, nudging his foot into Valento’s side. “You can’t judge an opponent by their size.”

The trainees look dumbfounded. Ignis doesn’t have a single scratch on him, and Gladio would give up anything to march over there and kiss the shit out of him in front of everyone.

 The music is way too fuckin’ loud. Gladio is normally all about it, but it’s the kind of earsplitting, pulsing EDM music that sets his teeth on edge.

He found a couch as far away from the music as he could. Most of the commotion is in the kitchen, where they’re doing shots of…something (Gladio is fairly sure it’s not even alcohol).

He’s beginning to have some regrets. But Nyx had stopped him after training and said “Hey, we’re havin’ a party at Dona’s.”

Gladio had snorted, “Aren’t you kinda’ over all that shit?”

“Fuck no, free alcohol dude.”

Gladio was still amid the biggest emotional crisis of his life, so he shrugged, and left his bike at the Citadel.

Carpooling was a mistake.

He isn’t even drunk. There’s a solo cup in his hand, but he just can’t bring himself to drink it. He’s just…not in the mood.

Gladio had his hand down some chick’s shirt not a half hour ago. She dragged him to the bathroom and dropped to her knees, but Gladio knew he wasn’t gonna’ get hard, so he shrugged her off and took the slap without a fight. He deserved it anyways.

Technically he could call a Taxi – but he feels sluggish and his head hurts and it’s fuckin’ pathetic. What he wouldn’t give to scoop out all the gross — feelings shit and bury it in the backyard.

He scrubs a hand over his face. He hasn’t seen Prompto or Noct for a few weeks, and God forbid – he’s surrounded by people, but he still feels lonely.

What the hell am I doing?

Something clatters; a pot falls down from the banister, and nobody seems to care. Gladio looks up, and nearly does a double take.

There’s someone on the couch across from him. The room is full; people dancing between them, sitting on the couch arms and talking above the music, but Gladio feels it all fade to nothing.

Ignis is sitting with legs parted, one arm back over the couch, and a cigarette in his hand. Gladio had no idea he smoked, but he does it naturally – like he’s done it a hundred times.

He’s staring at Gladio, like he’s been waiting for him to look up this whole time.

Gladio stares.

“Iggy?”

Ignis blinks once, slowly. His glasses are pushed up on his head, and his cigarette is almost to the butt. Ignis flicks down his glasses, and leans forwards to stub out the cigarette in the ash tray.  

“Hey Amicitia! Come do shots!” A kid calls, and Gladio doesn’t remember his name, so he doesn’t move. Ignis stands, and stares down at him with a cold demeanor.

“I’m taking you home.”

It doesn’t sound like there’s any room to argue, and Gladio doesn’t blame him for being mad. Ignis begins to walk towards the front door, and Gladio follows.

 It’s quiet outside. It’s strikingly different to the loud atmosphere in the house. The music fades the farther they walk; there’s cars parked up and down the neighborhood, so Ignis leads them further down the street.

Gladio doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. Ignis walks slightly ahead of him, shoulders tense and eyes forward, and Gladio misses that night up on the hill. Where Ignis was soft and relaxed and laughing.

He hates that he put them here. This is his fault.

He sees Iggy’s car at the end of the block. Gladio goes to reach for the passenger door, and Ignis begins to walk around the front of the hood – but he stops, outright. Gladio’s hand freezes on the handle, eyes glued to Ignis’s back.

He turns once, staring Gladio head on.

“I’m rather cross with you,” he says.

“I know,” says Gladio.

Ignis’s eyes are sweltering with a restrained fury, and it’s beautifully terrifying.

A hand pushes at his chest, and Gladio doesn’t even flinch as his body is slammed up against the car door.

“How dare you,” Ignis snaps, teeth bared. “How dare you invite me to your flat and – buy me coffee and throw pebbles at my window and –“ he pushes again, Gladio’s head nearly snapping back from the force, “- how dare you sweep me away and then ignore me like garbage.”

Gladio inhales, completely hypnotized. His filter burns up, like a cigarette.

“I’m sorry.”

Something in Ignis – not softens, but melts, a little. He sighs, resigned, and unclenches his fingers in Gladio’s shirt collar.

“I really thought we were beyond childish games. If I have wronged you...I trusted you would speak to me about it.”

“It wasn’t you,” Gladio says, too fast. He squeezes his eyes shut, and presses his fist against his eyes, “Fuck. It wasn’t you.” Ignis is waiting, so he says, “I just – needed space.”

The fury comes back tenfold. He rips his hand away from Gladio’s chest, and for the first time in his life, he hears Ignis raise his voice.

“Like hell you did! You’ve brooded long enough — If there’s something you must say to me then say it.”

“I’m in love with you,” Gladio says.

 Ignis freezes, like hitting the pause button on a movie.

Hand halfway extended between them, mouth parted, eyes wide open. The streetlamp casts shadows over his face, and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone, like he dressed in a hurry.

For once, Gladio looks at him and doesn’t feel a thing. No regret, no insistent buzzing – no squeeze in his chest or a pit in his stomach.

Just…relief.

The band-aid’s ripped clean off. Gladio finally exhales.

Ignis lowers his gaze. Gladio half smiles, despite the heartbeat in his ears. 

“I was scared.”

“You’re an idiot,” Ignis whispers.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

He waits – for what? A punch, a laugh, rejection or worse–

Ignis jerks his head down by his shirt collar, and Gladio closes his eyes, pretty much expecting to get decked. When nothing happens, he peeks open an eye, and Ignis is waiting for something.

Gladio opens his other eye and blinks, and Ignis stares at him.

“Tell me how long.”

“How long I’ve-“ Gladio bites off. “I dunno’. I’ve liked you since we were kids.”

“Unbelievable,” Ignis says, and then kisses him.

Gladio nearly jerks away, but Ignis cups the back of his head and holds him down – and Gladio’s brain fully flatlines. Dead, short-circuit, someone pop the breaker. Ignis inhales through his nose, and Gladio thinks oh my god – and then he cups his jaw and kisses him back.

Fuck, it’s electric. It feels like he’s being pricked by a million tiny little shocks – Gladio is goddamn lucky he can kiss in his sleep, because it takes a solid moment for his head to catch up. He shuts his eyes and parts his lips and by the gods, Ignis makes a short sound in his throat, and it goes right through him.

They fit together so well. Ignis crowds him up against the car, and Gladio slides a hand down to hold him by the lower back, and it’s so so good. No throat lozenges or pointy acrylic nails – it’s just Iggy, so much Iggy. He smells like cigarettes and cologne, but tastes like coffee and sugar and fuck does it do all kinds of things to him.

“Do you have any idea,” Ignis breathes, “how much I’ve thought of this.”

“No,” Gladio blurts. He’s honestly still amazed this is happening at all.

Ignis squints. He reaches around and yanks open the back passenger door, and then pushes Gladio in with his forearm. On a better day, Gladio would like to think he’d stand his ground – but his brain is kinda’ not on planet earth, and Iggy pushin’ him around is definitely hot for a thousand reasons. Gladio falls into the back seat, and Ignis crawls over him, shutting the door behind him.

It’s way cramped in here; Gladio is half up against the window, and his legs are folded up at the other door, but Ignis moves to straddle his thigh and bend over him like a panther to prey, and Gladio’s mouth waters.

“Fuck,” Gladio breathes, hands falling to his hips. “You’re not fucking with me, right?”

“If you don’t mind, I’m quite done playing games,” Ignis says, breath hot between them. “Kiss me or get out of the car.”

Gladio laughs, and Ignis captures his mouth and it’s scorching. To his complete and utter delight, Ignis doesn’t kiss all clean and proper. Instead he licks across his bottom lip, and when Gladio opens his mouth, he’s subject to Ignis kissing him from the inside out.

Always one to give as good as he gets, he slides his tongue alongside Iggy’s – and it’s wet. Not at all how good boys kiss.

Gladio grins, and Ignis makes a huffy noise when his smile gets in his way.

Ignis grips his chin. “Quit it,” he growls, and slides their lips back together. His lenses are digging into the side of Gladio’s cheek, so he plucks them off his face and reaches over to blindly set his glasses in the cup holder.

It’s all so much. Their breath is loud, and it’s getting hotter by the second, and Ignis is absolutely criminal; every wet dream rolled into one. Shirt collar dipped low, hair already ruffled –

“Fuck,” Gladio breathes. Ignis pulls back a little, and Gladio dives into his neck; his skin is hot against his lips, so Gladio kisses into Ignis’s adam’s apple, and untucks his shirt from the belt. “I just wanna’ ruin you.”

Ignis hums, and it’s husky and rough and sexy as all fuck.

“You are a true test of my patience.”

Gladio laughs once. It’s really fucking cramped in here, but Ignis is sliding a hand up his shirt, feeling over his stomach and breathing heavy, and there’s a desperation to it that drives him to surge up and kiss him.

“Really?” he mumbles. Ignis kisses into his mouth, tips his head and brushes their noses together, licks firm and flicks his tongue, curling heat in Gladio’s stomach. Gladio really can’t help the groan — he’s never kissed someone that’s met him round for round, and it’s like a friggin’ drug.

Ignis traces up between his pecs, hand flat, and bends against the car roof, biting his tongue when Gladio tries to trace behind his teeth.

“Yes,” Ignis hisses, kissing sloppily against the side of his mouth. “By the gods, I was tested that morning in your kitchen.” Gladio’s shirt is gathering around Ignis’s wrist, and he pushes even further, forcing it under his armpits. The tips of his fingers meet the base of Gladio’s neck, and Ignis’s body suddenly dips, mouth moving to lick between his pecs. “I couldn’t stop thinking of it. Shirtless and stubbly and muffed up from your sleep. It took everything I had not to drop to my knees right there and then.”

Ignis licks flat across a nipple, tongue flicking once – and Gladio gasps, head nearly smacking back against the window. He then laughs, snaking a hand down to skim over his bony little hip. “Glad to know I wasn’t the only one.”

Ignis looks up, and fuck he’s hot, he’s so hot. He’s staring like Gladio is the meal, and not the other way around. Gladio squeezes his ass once, and Ignis’s eyes flicker shut, and fuck – he needs his mouth like yesterday.

He hauls him up by the ass, and Ignis fumbles to brace a hand against the car door, lips messily finding his. It’s dark, if not for the distant light of the streetlamp. Ignis kisses him like he’s afraid each one is the last – long and drawn out and never stopping, back and forth and completely mesmerizing.

Ignis has the cutest fucking butt ever, and Gladio runs his fingers down his back seam on his jeans. It gets hotter, faster – they’re breathing the same air, puffing between them, stealing oxygen back and forth until Gladio can’t remember what’s up and what’s down.

He’s not sure he’s ever been so turned on from making out. Like, holy shit. Ignis slides his tongue behind his ear and Gladio shudders so hard, he’s actually worried he might come.

“Shit shit shit – don’t,” Gladio squirms, jerking his hips back, but Ignis just sits up (as much as he can) and blinks.

Curiously, he wiggles a hand between their bodies and feels, with no reserve, right across his hardon. Ignis squeezes him through his jeans, and gods forbid, he fuckin’ grins.

“Oh, it’s Christmas.”

Gladio can’t help it, he’s so turned on he laughs.

“What?” Ignis breathes, sizing him up and squeezing again.

“Nothing – you, you just-“ he squeezes past his ass, almost at the back muscle of his thigh. He’d never ever, in a million years, guess he’d be swapping spit in the backseat of a car with Ignis. He expected soft, clean kisses and proper bedsheets – but there’s drool down Iggy’s chin and his lips are bitten red and, “You blow all my expectations.”  

Ignis is still very interested in the size of his dick – but he pauses, and then smiles.

“That’s quite a relief. Despite your emotional constipation, I am rather in love with you.” He promptly flicks open Gladio’s pant button, and yanks down his zipper, “But I’d really like to discuss this — not now. You’re fucking beautiful and I might actually die of a blood clot.”

Gladio laughs, and wiggles his free arm around to grab the back of his neck. Ignis kisses him, but it’s sloppy and unfocused, because Ignis is too busy trying to look between them. He shoves down Gladio’s underwear and grips him in his hand – and Gladio sighs, finally no-longer trapped against his inseam.

“Ah, I-“ Gladio grits, fucking hell, Ignis just gets right to it, huh? He spits between them and twists his wrist and alright, there’s something illegal about Iggy’s fingers. They’re long and confident, and the sight of them sliding over his dick — “Shit dude, not gonna’ last like that.”

“Fine by me,” Ignis mumbles, cheek to cheek. “Because we are going to drive back to your flat and you are going to fuck the everliving daylights out of me.”

Gladio’s head hits the window with a thunk. The windows are fogging, and the door is digging into his back, but Ignis works his cock and moans like he’s the one getting a handjob.

He tries to regain some focus. Gladio runs his fingers up the back of Ignis’s shirt, and squeezes at his waist. He wants to touch as much skin as he can — wants to remember it all; but fuck it’s hard not to have a one track mind, because Ignis is a siren in his lap.

Ignis’s shirt keeps getting in the way. Impatient, Gladio yanks his shirt open, and the buttons pop all over the car.

“Damn,” Ignis curses. “I’m going to be so angry about that later.”

“Not now?” Gladio grins. Ignis grinds down against his thigh as a response, and holy shit.

Okay, show’s over. Ignis rips his head back, immediately looking down to watch. Gladio’s toes curl against the seat and the car floor and he nearly bites through his tongue. It’s a punch to the fuckin’ gut, and Ignis nearly purrs, working his hand and squeezing tight. It’s all white hot and pulsing light, and it throbs through him.

God, Gladio actually feels winded. The windows are so fogged, anyone walking by won’t have a doubt what’s going on, but Gladio doesn’t care. He’s pretty sure he just left the solar system.

“That,” Ignis says, “was worth the wait.”

“No shit. Kiss me.”

Ignis does. He wipes his hand on his shirt, and now that Gladio can finally think straight, he feels Ignis shift against his thigh and shiver.

He drives up his leg, and Ignis jerks, hand flying out to slap against the window. His hair flops in his eyes, and Gladio can now see how flushed Iggy’s face is. 

“Oh-“

Gladio hums, clarity washing over him along with the aftershocks. His voice is a little rough from all the kissing, but he manages,

“That feel good baby?”

He rocks Ignis down against his thigh, and Iggy’s eyes nearly roll back in his head. His mouth falls open, and he makes the absolute filthiest noise Gladio has ever heard. Like, ever. Like, holy Six.

Gladio tries to twist his neck and look – and okay, he can totally see the line of Iggy’s dick trapped by his jeans, and that definitely has to hurt. Gladio reaches for his belt – but Ignis grabs his wrist and shivers.

“Don’t – I’m-“ he trembles, so Gladio rocks him back down on his lap, free hand cupping his cheek.

“You’re good, you’re good. Come on beautiful– fuck, I wanna’ see you.”

Ignis’s head flops down on his shoulder, and there’s a bitten groan that settles in his throat. His skin is sticky with sweat, and Gladio pets up his back, smoothing back down as Ignis works his hips, never having undone his belt. He jerks once, growing tense, and then moans through his teeth. Gladio’s brain can’t even begin to process how hot that is.

The heat settles. Gladio kisses his neck, and he’s sticky there too – but Gladio knows he’s probably no better.

For a moment, he’s worried Ignis actually went braindead. He doesn’t move or speak or breathe – but a moment later he heaves himself up, and slaps Gladio once across the chest.

“Alright, I’m driving,” Ignis says.

“What?” 

“Do you think I was joking?” Ignis huffs, hair falling in his face. “I don’t believe I can be any clearer. I want you to fuck me through the drywall.”

Somehow, that’s the sexiest and the funniest thing that’s ever come out of his mouth.

Gladio tips his head back and laughs, and Ignis pulls off his lap, crawling up into the front seat.

“Who are you?” He giggles, wiping his eyes.

“You took me for a ride on your motorcycle,” Ignis huffs, adjusting himself in his jeans and grabbing his glasses. “You called this upon yourself.”

“Hey,” Gladio starts, reaching up to pull on his arm. Ignis turns back around, and Gladio kisses him straight on. Ignis leans on the center console, and Gladio cups his neck to hold him still. It’s warm and soft and somehow comforting. Gladio pulls back, and speaks once he has his full attention. “Thank you.”

Ignis knows he isn’t talking about the sex. His eyes sparkle in a smile, and he flicks Gladio’s nose, turning back around and jamming the key in the ignition. Gladio hops in the front seat, and he’s never felt so happy, ever. He’s never laughed during sex, he’s never popped from a handjob, and he’s never looked at his partner and felt like he could wax poetic in the rain.

But, you know. Everyone has firsts.

They make out during the red lights.

He feels like a lovesick teenager, and it’s great.

 Gladio lays face down in the pillows, head propped in his arms. He's relaxed, but not sleepy - he zones in and out, mostly focused on the fingers tracing up and down his back. 

Ignis feels up to his neck, over his shoulderblades and back down to the tail-feathers of his eagle. He rubs in circles, and it feels so nice. The air is so peaceful, it’s not weird when Ignis breaks the silence. He thumbs over his newly colored feathers. 

"When did you finish it?" 

"I had my last appointment right before training started," Gladio mumbles, turning his head to look at Ignis.

It's hard to believe Ignis was gripping the sheets not half an hour ago, screaming into the crook of his arm. Ignis already looks so put together, the only indication being the slight scratchiness of his voice, but even that can be blamed on the cigarette he's smoking with his other hand. 

Ignis kneads into the middle of his back, fingertips spanning along the tattoo. 

"Why the eagle?" 

"It's for the Amicitia line," Gladio says. "It symbolizes focus. Dad said it started hundreds of years ago as a tribute to Enkidu, but I think it means something different now."

Ignis doesn't respond right away. He traces up over his shoulder, and takes a drag of his cigarette, turning his head to blow it towards the cracked window. His mom used to smoke, so the smell doesn't bother him. 

"It suits you." 

"How long have you smoked?" he asks. 

Ignis hums. He leans down to stub out the cigarette on the metal side of his trashcan, and then appears back up against the headboard. 

"Three or four years, I suppose." 

"You're damn good at hiding it." 

"A hard habit to kick, I'm afraid." 

Gladio stares, and Ignis blinks at him. 

"What?"

"Nothing," Gladio snorts. "You nag Noctis about vegetables, and yet." 

Ignis rolls his eyes, "My job is to sustain Noct's health, not my own." 

Gladio laughs, shifting to the side so he can place his head in Ignis's lap. 

"Every time I think I know you, I'm proven wrong again." 

"That's a good thing," Ignis says, hand falling to his hair. "It keeps you on your toes." 

Gladio hums contently. Ignis has magic hands; fingers trail through his hair, around his ear and across his jaw. He traces across the scar, and Gladio shifts when it gives him goosebumps. It doesn't hurt, but it used to. 

"I was beside myself when Noctis told me you were in the hospital on his behalf," Ignis whispers. "Terribly proud and wrathful all at once. I couldn't understand my feelings." 

"Just doin' my job," Gladio mumbles. 

"It's not really just a job anymore, is it?" 

Gladio looks up. Ignis looks serious, sans glasses, so Gladio turns to drag him down by the neck. 

"No," he says, and kisses him. 

Their first date was just supposed to be dinner. Nowhere crazy expensive — but the restaurant screwed up their reservation, and with forty minutes to kill, they stumbled around the shopping center, and ended up in a bookstore. 

First it's one book; "I used to read that as a child-" "Oh really? Me too!"  and then it's two books and six and then they're sitting in the reading chairs, whispering about cheesy romance novels and science fiction and the joys of Jules Verne — and Gladio's smiling so much his face hurts, and it's just...this is how it should be, you know? They're still in dress slacks and button ups, but soon they've missed their reservation, and they're standing at the sandwich shop with plastic shopping bags and four new reads. 

Gladio lets himself feel happy. He lets his heart squeeze and his pulse jump, and he lets himself be in love, because fate or no fate, it's not worth fighting against. Lesson learned. 

Training makes him sore in a good way. They have to wake up at butt-o-clock, but it leaves him open most afternoons, which is good if you look at it figuratively. It actually works out great, because it means he can accompany Noct in more of his schedules. 

The first time Gladio sees him since the fight, it's during a press conference. Gladio stands in uniform, and Noct crosses his arms at his side. Gladio feels an elbow in his ribs — and he looks just in time to catch the tail-end of his smile, so Gladio knows they're good. 

Tonight they're at the citadel, but it's not for business. 

Noctis raises his arms and whoops, "Yeah!!!" 

 "Dammit!" Prompto curses, throwing down the controller.

Gladio laughs, "Hey, you kiss your fuckin' mother with that mouth?" 

Prompto doesn't respond; he's still gripping his hair, whining.

"This is such BS. I had your health at one!" 

"Chun-Li is best girl, sorry 'bout it." 

Ignis picks up the forgotten controller, and starts to go through the character selection. Gladio crosses his legs on the bed and leans on one arm, shoulder brushing against Ignis's. 

Noctis has a pretty big room, but they're all shoved over by the bed. The T.V. has been pulled as far from the outlet as possible, and Noctis and Prompto sit on the floor, amid the empty pizza boxes. 

"Ew," Prompto sits up, "Are you choosing Blanka? Nobody plays as Blanka." 

"I don't think you are in any position to be giving advice," Ignis says coolly. Prompto crosses his arms and huffs, and Noctis laughs. 

They start the next round, and Gladio chews absently on the straw in his drink. Ignis doesn't have as much practice as Noctis, but he manages to hold his own. 

"Get 'em! Get 'em!" 

Noctis takes the first round, and Ignis nods, "One more try." 

"Left right left right is a super combo," Gladio says.

Noctis snaps,

"Hey! Don't cheat!" 

Gladio leans his head on Ignis's shoulder, "I think up-up is a grab." 

Ignis tries it, and his character hauls Noctis up above his head. 

"Shut up Gladio!" 

Ignis takes round two, and Prompto turns around to high-five him. Ignis snorts, turning his head slightly towards Gladio, 

"Any more secret knowledge?" 

"That's it, I'm afraid." 

"Alright, no more goin' easy." Noctis cracks his knuckles, and round three starts. 

The door opens. 

Gladio is half expecting a maid, but when he turns his head, he nearly head-butts Ignis from sitting up so fast. Noctis pauses the game, and Gladio and Ignis jump to their feet. 

"Sit down, sit down," Regis waves, leaning up in the doorway. 

Noctis pops his gum, "What's up?"

"Just checking on you guys." Regis is still in his suit, but he's at ease, so Gladio slowly relaxes. He's suddenly very self conscious of how closely he's sitting to Ignis, but Regis doesn't seem to care. "Need anything?" 

"Nope." 

"How was the pizza?"

"Great. Got one left if you want it." 

Regis smiles, limping partway into the room. "Wow, three boxes and one slice survived. Is it poisoned?" 

"If you count grease as poison," Prompto grins. Regis chuckles, taking the slice from Noctis, and then heading back out the doorway. 

"Alright, well have fun." 

Ignis bows his head, "Thank you, your majesty." Gladio mirrors him. Regis waves them off and shuts the door, and Noctis unpauses the game like nothing happened. Gladio lets out the breath he was holding. 

"Do you guys ever get used to that?" Prompto turns. 

"Used to what?" 

"The friggin' King just waltzing on in." 

"Well, he's my dad," Noctis deadpans. 

"I wasn't asking you!" 

"No," Ignis answers, fully giving up on the game and letting Noct kick his ass. "You don't really." Defeated, he offers the controller to Gladio, and he waves him off. Prompto takes it back, and the two begin a new game. 

Gladio is hesitant to reach back out for Ignis. But he doesn't have to, because Ignis shifts over, and curls their hands together on his lap. 

"Hello," Ignis says. 

"Hey there." 

They're actually in pajamas this time. Granted, sweatpants and ratty t-shirts, but it's nice. Ignis tucks Gladio’s hair behind his ear, and Gladio is secretly thrilled that it's long enough to do that now. 

"Tired?" Ignis asks, amid the yelling on the floor. 

"Nah." 

"Then I'll admit," Ignis says. "I was outmatched today." 

"Hey, the Immortal pushed us hard." Gladio pulls his hand out of Iggy's, so he can reach around his back and dig into the knots in his neck. "Where you feelin' it?" 

"It was the thousand pushups," Ignis says reluctantly. Gladio squeezes into his shoulder, and Ignis hums, slightly curling into him. 

Noctis doesn't look away from the T.V., but he calls, "Hey? You two bein' gross?" 

"Yup," Gladio says, but Ignis reaches down to playfully karate chop the top of his head. 

"Mind your manners." 

"You mind your manners, that's my bed you're sitting on." 

"Ugh, don't remind me," Gladio jokingly grins, "I don't wanna' know what kind of stuff you and Prom get up to in here." 

Prompto drops the controller and squawks, and holy shit, Gladio has never seen Noctis turn so red in his life. To his utter delight, Ignis breaks out laughing, and Noctis turns around to hurl shit at them; pizza boxes, empty soda cans, shoes — you name it. 

"Don't dish it out if you can't take it!" Gladio laughs, trying to shield Ignis from the shoe onslaught. Prompto's head hangs in his hands - but even he is susceptible to Ignis's laugh. In a weird way, they all are.

It doesn't feel as early as it is. The suns barely come up, but the apartment is lit bright. The whole place smells like bacon and eggs, and the T.V. is on, but Gladio sits at the kitchen table with his head in his hand, and watches Ignis cook. 

He's in flannel bottoms, and Gladio knows the matching shirt is currently buried beneath their bed, because he hid it there. Iggy’s legs are so long, and he has those little back dimples, and there's beauty marks on his shoulders, and Gladio could just die. 

Ignis such a crazy good cook. Gladio's cabinet consists mostly of top ramen and taco shells, so Ignis always comes in with shopping bags, and Gladio's fridge has never been so full. 

Ignis pushes his glasses up, and Gladio sighs contently; he goes to set his head in his other hand, but he didn't realize there was a glass of orange juice sitting so close. It goes halfway over the table, and Gladio jerks up, cursing. 

"Fuck!” 

Ignis looks over, and snorts once. He turns down the burner, and sets the lid atop some sizzling bacon. Gladio scoops up the cup and sets it right, and Ignis comes over with a wad of paper towels. 

"I'm not a klutz, I promise,” Gladio sighs. 

"The funny thing is, I believe you," Ignis says, wiping up the juice and tossing the wads in the trash. "You can outrun our entire class. I've seen you wield weapons twice your size." Ignis turns, and raises an eyebrow, "So it's quite puzzling." 

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t know the cause.

"You’re just so distracting, baby." 

Ignis breathes a laugh through his nose, and walks back his way. Gladio scoots out his chair, and Ignis climbs to sit on his lap. He straddles him, arms falling up and over the back of the chair. 

"I'm the distracting one?" Ignis tips his head, and their noses bump. "Yesterday you threw Marco over your shoulder with a single hand, and I had to leave the room and count to ten." 

Gladio laughs, hands falling to Iggy's waist like they belong there. His skin is warm and smooth, Gladio is tempted to hide the rest of his shirts. Ignis leans down to kiss once under his jaw, then again at his throat, and one more, over the hickey he worked on last night. It's slightly hidden by his tattoo, but definitely noticeable to the plain eye. 

Ignis bites down again, and Gladio inhales hard, and Ignis smiles wicked. 

"Go check your food before you eat me," Gladio teases, already feeling a little warm. Ignis tips up and kisses him once, pulling back to say, 

"Please. As if I'd let a perfectly good omelette burn." A cheeky grin, "I'm not so clumsy." 

Gladio smacks his ass, and Ignis hobbles off snickering, and Gladio is so, so fucking grateful he gets to see him like this. 

 Later, when they're at the citadel, Ignis will stand in uniform with a poker face and a sharp mind, rattling off advice, names and dates and places and every possible thing Noctis would need to know - and Gladio will stand at Noct's left side, proud out of his fucking mind. 

He loves the Iggy that cooks gourmet dinners and pushes his hair back with bobby pins and cuddles in bed. But he loves the Iggy that takes pride in his work, studying late and waking up early and landing cocky trainee scrubs right on their ass. 

"Good morning love," Ignis will kiss him, standing on his toes so Gladio won't crick his neck. 

"Good night darling," Ignis will mumble, right in his shoulder as he clicks off the lights. 

Gladio doesn't keep any more secrets.