Chapter Text
That tree is the same one he's sure he'd seen two hours ago, but Ignis assures him that it's a new tree and to trust his keen observational skills. 'The color of foliage and the branch positions aren't like the one they'd seen two hours ago', though Noctis is willing to call him a liar at this point because they've been pushing the car for what seems like forever with no gas station in sight. Naturally, sleep had been tugging at him, trying to lure him away from the task at hand and bid him to collapse into its cool and gentle hands, but the sweltering heat keeps reminding him its broad daylight.
His throat has never hurt more, and his shirt and jacket are clinging uncomfortably to his back with his sweat acting as the glue between the fabric and skin. He doesn't know how far they have left to go, only that he'll be food for scavengers pretty soon if he doesn't at least find somewhere to sit and eat.
Sensing his inner turmoil, Ignis finally relents on his pushing and decrees that this is a good enough camping area.
"There's a stream about half a mile away. Prompto and I can retrieve some ingredients on the way."
Prompto's protest cuts through the arid air sharply, making Noctis' ears ring. "Why do I have to go? Why can't I stay here with Noct?"
"Because you're the reason the car broke down in the first place."
Prompto is the only reason it ever breaks down, though it's a mystery how putting him behind the wheel has become an instant death sentence for the Regalia. This has to have been the third time this week something has happened to it, and they're nowhere near Cid's repair shop this time much to Gladio's and Prompto's mutual disappointment. He'd only been groaning about not getting to see Cindy as a consolation prize for all the trouble and effort they've been putting into saving the car. Were it any other car, they would have abandoned it to hitchhike, but Noctis couldn't leave the Regalia behind. His father entrusted him with it, and he's determined to get it back to Insomnia in one piece even if they have to drive all the way back with Prompto locked in the trunk just to protect it.
Honestly, that's a tempting idea…
"I can't believe this!" Prompto continues to protest, but Ignis is already walking away, his posture indicating that there's no room for argument.
"I'll stay back and keep an eye on things here," Gladio announces, and Noctis is almost glad for the comfortable silence as his body slides down the back of the car and his rear meets the dirt underneath. There are no other cars except for theirs which means their other option of finding someone to jump start the car for them is non-existent. Who knows how far they'll have to push this thing, but Noctis' palms are burning and his lips are so chapped that they've cracked and started bleeding everywhere.
He tries to lick away some of the dryness only to taste copper on the tip of his tongue, and Gladio decides it's a good time to give him some shade by sitting next to him and blocking out some of the sun with his height. He's sure Gladio just wanted to take a rest and didn't actually think about the whole shade thing, but Noctis appreciates his presence nonetheless. At least, Gladio can read the situation well enough not to try and start a conversation with him when he's on the edge of hunger, exhaustion, and delirium. Instead, he tips his head back and closes his eyes as a bird's shadow creeps over his face.
Drops of sweat roll down his chin and along his neck, and Noctis can only imagine how much harder it is for someone with Gladio's body mass to stay cool, though it's tempting to follow Gladio's lead and strip down just to his pants. Of course, he's not as resilient as Gladio and gets sunburned easily, and that's about the last thing he needs at the moment along with Ignis following him around chewing him out for being irresponsible and insisting he put aloe all over himself. Where the hell would he even find aloe out here? Chalk it up to Ignis to produce an aloe tree out of thin air or something. That guy is ridiculously resourceful, and he appreciates it really but…
Damn, he lost his train of thought. It's hard to focus on anything in this heat, and unless Ignis and Prompto arrive within the next few minutes, Noctis doesn't think he can stay awake long enough to deal with any of this. Is he ever going to reach Luna at this point? Who even cares? Unless she's a glass of water, Noctis would be more content at the moment to never move again.
His head starts lolling to one side, and he wrestles with the jacket around his shoulders, finally deciding to do away with it before he passes out. His shirt goes next, and Gladio opens one eye to investigate all the shuffling before closing it again.
"Don't complain later when you're burnt and peeling all over," he says with a hint of an amusement.
There's a small smile tugging at his lips, and Noctis wants to respond with something more clever but only manages a quiet, "shut up."
That same bird flies overhead, its cries growing louder, and Noctis wonders if it's waiting for them to die to eat them. He wouldn't be surprised, but he doesn't think he's got that much of his foot in a grave, yet. His heart is still beating pretty defiantly in his chest, though he can feel the tempo start to slow and hear his breathing deepen as the air flees his lips. In an instant, his body is crumbling to the side, and he barely registers Gladio catching him from falling over completely, his arm remaining firm around him to keep him steady as he lies against him. The scent of sweat is all that assaults his nose, a strong odor that should be pungent given the last time Gladio showered, but it's not terrible. Definitely nothing that would stir him awake, and the weight of his arm around him is like an anchor, keeping a part of his dreams in the present, holding him down before he drifts too far away.
The deeper he falls into the dreamscape the more the colors around him swirl and transform until he hears the sound of himself breathing, a loud feverish noise that he never heard out of himself. Firm hands are locked around his biceps, clenching like shackles and holding him down, and there is a steady stream of heat snaking its way along his spine, making his body contort away from itself.
Fingers still squeeze bone-deep, bruising his flesh, and something short and spiny scratches his throat, making his breath hitch higher to his own ears. The sensation of being trapped before being freed, of being caged yet liberated- he teeters between the edge of both, trying to cry out but his throat won't make a sound. Only his breathing escalates, lips curling around a name as the heat ripples further along his body, embracing its way to his stomach. He's sure it's going to settle there and boil until he goes crazy, but he can barely think around the lips that touch his, skin broken and the taste of blood on them mingling with his own.
But it's brief and fleeting, a ghost of a touch until he's released, and his eyes creep open. It's dark by then, the stars clear in the horizon, and Gladio's shoulder digs harshly into his cheek.
"You finally up?"
Damn, how long had he been out? He can barely grasp onto the dream, watching it slide through his fingers like sand as his eyes continue to blink the world back into focus. Gladio's eyes seem larger than normal from his angle, and he can see the thin black rim around his irises, wondering if he'd ever bothered to notice it before. The contrast between that and the color…
"Noct?"
A gentle shake snaps him further out of his sleepiness, and his knuckle pushes into his own eyelid as he tries to reorient himself.
"Are Prompto and Ignis back yet?"
"Afraid not. It's been a couple of hours. Think we should go look for them?"
Night is when the earth shifts to dirt and monsters, devouring anything that walks over it. He's seen the things that lurk where other eyes can't reach. The tension snags a hold of him, and Noctis can't bring himself to say yes.
"We'll wait. We might just get lost while they're on the way back to us."
Gladio's laugh is a quiet snort, indicating his sleepiness. Had he been awake this whole time keeping watch over him? He doesn't know why the thought strikes him as peculiar. He is his bodyguard, but he'd figured even Gladio had to run out of fuel at some point and crave rest. Maybe he made the better call in deciding not to move now. He doesn't want to push Gladio to his limit if he's this exhausted.
"Why don't you sleep, and I'll keep watch?" The words sound laughable to his own ears, too, but Gladio beats him to the punch with a more livelier reaction.
"That's a first, coming from you. Lucky for you I'm more hungry than tired right now."
On queue, Noctis' stomach growls in empathy, and his knees shift a bit, wanting to cradle them close to somehow hide the noises. Maybe they should find a way to knock that squawking bird out of the sky for them to eat.
"Come on, go back to sleep," Gladio urges, and Noctis remembers the sensation of another mouth crushing his, the taste of some unnamed spice on the tongue that brushes against his.
His body immediately stiffens, and he shakes his head, wondering what the hell is going on. Weird dreams had become the norm since he'd been young, but this had started to seem more like a feverish hallucination than anything.
His fingers clench and push into his own palm as he listens to the sound of his own breathing before shifting to the sound of Gladio's breaths, trying to unconsciously sync them up and find some peace in the rhythm. It was just a dream, that's all.
"I'm more thirsty than tired," he finally replies, and Gladio sighs before standing up and leaving his side open to the cool night air.
"Why didn't you say something earlier?"
He watches the dim outright of Gladio's body as he rummages through the trunk before pulling out a can. It's beer.
"Last one. Was saving it for a special occasion."
"Us dying is a pretty special occasion," Noctis remarks dryly, but he'll take what he can get at this point.
The tab makes a loud hiss as it's pulled back before the acrid taste of alcohol hits his tongue. His stomach turns right away, and he has to fight not to gag like a little kid in front of Gladio. Seriously, how can he drink this stuff? It's worse than the medicinal tea Ignis makes him whenever he's congested.
"Drink up. Shouldn't be enough to get you buzzed even at your size."
He wouldn't be opposed to a decent 'buzz' at this point. The day had taken enough of a toll out on him, and now, he's just craving a little sanity. Each sip, however, continues to make his stomach lurch, reminding him he hadn't eaten in so long, and Gladio's hand immediately presses to his back, rubbing a gently circle through the fabric.
"Don't force yourself if you hate it that much."
Noctis really does hate it, but pride won't let him admit as much.
"It's fine."
It's not fine. His stomach lining is already killing him and he's sure this beer was brewed in a toilet tank at some point. Nevertheless, he pours another large sip down his throat and winces as it burns the rest of the way down his esophagus. Then back up.
The resulting coughing fit is horrendous, his sides burning from the contractions as he chokes around the liquid, and Gladio pries the can way before bringing it to his own lips, intent on finishing off the rest himself. His eyes continue to watch him as he drinks, and Noctis feels more embarrassed and on the spot than ever, hating that he's sensitive to the things that a real war-hardened soldier would be unfazed by. It's true he'd lived a privileged life for the most part, always being waited on and looked after, but even then a part of him had always been aware of the burden he'd carry one day. He had never wanted to seem weak even as a kid, but now, he's fighting to climb out of his comfort zone and exceed his own expectations. He doesn't want Gladio to have to stand as his shield for the rest of his life. He wants to be able to protect and take care of himself.
Could he even have survived this long had he been on his own? The answer frustrates him, and he sees the way Gladio is always observing him like he's silently willing him to get stronger faster. Lucis needs him. How does he rise up to that call?
When Gladio finishes, he absently crushes the can in one hand and tosses it over his shoulder. Luckily, Ignis isn't around to nag at him for it. He probably would have complained for giving him some beer in the first place.
"That made me even more thirsty," Gladio remarks with a sigh before stretching out as he takes his former place next to him. His back rests against the car door, and his arm falls once again around his shoulders. The heavy weight draws Noctis' gaze, following down the line of muscles thickly corded together, and the veins are more pronounced than ever, pushing against his flesh and creating an eerie map of blood flow down the length of Gladio's forearm. His fingers are lightly curved at the tips, lightly brushing along Noctis' bare shoulders, and it's the first time he's aware of the sensation of his touch.
It's not fleeting, not gentle. It lingers heavily, making its presence bluntly known. There's no fear or hesitation here, not like Luna's fingers that dance and leave his hands like a butterfly beating its wings against his skin. This is a battering ram into his personal space, though Noctis had never been bothered thinking about anything before when they'd touched.
Something about the way the night blankets Gladio's form makes him feel like a stranger next to him, someone mysterious and foreign but exciting somehow. Noctis can't name the feeling, only knows that it's knotting up his thoughts, and his stomach is still twisting from the presence of nothing else but that nasty beer. He struggles to hold it in while his senses spark and crackle, and his skin feels hyper-sensitive to every stimulus. It's bothering him, and he shifts around, contemplating knocking Gladio's arm away until it stops confusing him. However, he doesn't want to make that warm weight disappear either, and he's becoming strangely addicted to the rhythm of heat ebbing from the center of his body, pushing its way to every limb. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but he doesn't think now is the time and place to indulge it. Yet impulse is overpowering, and his exhaustion is muddying everything up until he wants to follow the taste of beer on Gladio's breath into his mouth.
And that thought alone is what brings his mind to crashing halt, his body bolting until he's unsteady on his feet, and he pinches the space between his eyes as if that can center his thoughts better. Every breath sounds too loud to him, and he's worried a little that he's looking more and more transparent to Gladio's curiosity.
"Something wrong? Just lie down if you're feeling dizzy. I didn't think it'd hit you that badly."
'It's not that' he wants to say, but he can't be bothered to explain it right now. Not to himself. Not to Gladio. He's just confused, so he opens the backseat of the car and throws his body inside like that will make everything else go away. It's cool on the leather seats, at least, and he's stuck lying sprawled out against it, watching the sky through the open roof sun roof.
Gladio's hand presses to his forehead for a moment before moving away, but Noctis barely remembers the sensation because sleep is tugging him away again, grabbing him with a firm grip on his ankle and dragging him quickly from reality. He wonders what awaits him on the other side.