chauffeuring | open post

❰ twenty-three hours. it's been twenty-three hours since the last time noctis lucis caelum drew breath into his body. gladiolus could name it to the minute, if you asked. to the moment even, if a clock were to measure so precisely, because it wasn't as if they split up and never managed to reunite. he was right there, right beside him. as careful as gladio thought he was, his king was killed in the span of a dawnhammer.

they entombed his body with regis for lack of a spare - a tomb for lucian kings who've died far too soon. prompto took it the hardest, but not quite in the way he takes everything the hardest. there was no wailing, no shouting. there was no sound at all, not a single word from the time the three of them carried noct back to the regalia to- well, to present. and weakest though he was of the four of them, he carried noct's upper half from the car to the tomb with a steady stream of silent tears slipping down his cheeks, while gladiolus himself took noct's lower half.

gladio almost stayed there, outside of that tomb. how long that would've lasted, only etro knows, but protecting his highness, protecting his best fucking friend, that was his life, y'know? his entire purpose, like his father with regis years ago. and somehow, in the wake of this gut-rending loss, that sense of duty translated somehow to guarding his highness's corpse.

but ignis and prompto had already gotten back into the car and they were clearly waiting for him - and honestly? he wasn't sure he had it in him to try and explain, if he did stay. he hadn't gone silent like prompto, but words weren't working for gladio quite the way they should. so instead, he got back in the car. sat back in the seat he'd been sitting in the entire way to the tomb, noct's head in his lap as his body lay crosswise along the bench seat for lack of any better way to transport him. and hours before that, noct was alive and well, sitting in the seat beside gladio and sulking emphatically out over the top of the door, wind whipping his hair into further disarray.

gladiolus doesn't remember all that much of that car ride, and he let ignis check them into a hotel suite on relative autopilot. iggy had this, he sounded relatively functional, and besides, gladio was off the clock. for the first time in his fucking life, gladio was off the clock. it was the single worst feeling he'd ever felt in his life.

the suite had a chair by the window, and gladio sat in it. for hours in fact, eyes unseeing out the window, while ignis flitted around doing every single fathomable thing a human being could possibly do - slowing only briefly to either sleep or pretend to when night fell, but immediately resuming the next morning - and some part of the back of gladio's mind rages for him to do something about it, to still ignis somehow because every single move the man makes radiates the exact kind of desolation threatening to tear through gladio's carefully-constructed blanket of numb, but that small acknowledgement of suffering outside of his own never quite reaches his conscious mind. not much does, right now. it's been a night and most of a day in this hotel room, and he hasn't once budged from the chair. he's not hungry. he's exhausted, but not the kind that sleep will fix. his hands shake where they sit on each arm of the chair, the only active sign of distress making it through.

clearly something's gotta give. ❱

[ the thing about nightmares was that people were meant to wake up from them. the brain would initiate a sequence that was tailor made to utterly devastate the dreamer, making those pressure points in the waking world something to be guarded. waking up would reset the nightmare and the person would go on about their life, thanking the stars that said things had not happened, relieved that none of it had been real.

this nightmare is real. no amount of pinching himself allows ignis to wake up and escape this turn of events. noct was dead and there was no sudden and magical turn of events to fix that, no way to cheat it in any shape or form. the reality of it had finally begun to sunk in once they had set noct to rest in his father's tomb, each of them helping to carry the young king's prone form to his final resting place. a small part of ignis had been affronted that it was all they could do for him in the end, that noct didn't have his own tomb like the others. he had done just as much, if not more and there would be nothing to mark it to the rest of the world. before leaving ignis glanced down and noticed the crimson stains on his gloves from their efforts. it wouldn't do and ignis quietly removed them, leaving them neatly by noct's side as he whispered a final goodbye and left.

the silence was deafening on the way to the hotel. there had been a small worry that gladio would simply walk away and refuse to get into the car, a niggling thought that briefly cut through the haze of grieving anxiety before vanishing. in a way it would be something ignis would understand, a sense of duty suddenly lost in one fell swoop, their largest purpose on life quickly and violently removed. prompto grieved in his own way, but for him it would be different. prompto had lost a best friend, ignis and gladiolus had lost their reasons for living. every so often ignis had checked the rear view mirror as if expecting noct to suddenly be there in the back seat, bemoaning the lack of food and complaining about not getting enough sleep. he doesn't materialize though and by the time they finally pull up outside the hotel, ignis is clutching the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. the gil feels odd in his bare hands as ignis hands it over at the hotel, watching silently as prompto quickly excuses himself into his own room.

the first day had been the worst, though if pushed on it ignis wouldn't be able to describe most of it. he'd gone onto autopilot, continuing in his routine of royal duties and making sure that everything and anything prompto or gladio needed was seen to. he had to, what else was there? there was an underlying fear that if he stopped for long enough everything would go to pieces and he wouldn't be able to fix it, let alone recover. ignis knows on some deep down level that it's not healthy, but what was the alternative? there were no contingency plans on this kind of thing; he knows that he should have died with the king, it was his job was it not? now he simply moves from place to place, keeping his hands busy and trying not to remember where his gloves are. there's a lunch made and brought to both prompto and gladio before cleaning up, ingredients sorted into alphabetical order then rearranged into expiry date order. coffee is made and taken to the other two, lunch cleared away before ignis sets to work cleaning the regalia. it feels like a betrayal, the lump in his throat tightening ever so slightly when he finds noct's baseball cap under one of the seats and he runs a hand over it. would it be as if he was washing away what was left of noct? it felt so, though ignis knows they can't drive in a car that still has the king's blood on parts of it.

dammit. the regalia is abandoned, cap set neatly on the driver's seat as ignis goes to pick the coffee cups back up, noting absently that prompto and gladio have neither spoken, eaten or touched their coffee. nothing to complain about. ignis simply makes fresh coffee, sets up the ingredients for dinner, speaks briefly with the hotel owner in low tones that don't even hint at the turmoil churning through him before he takes gladio another coffee. it's gladiolus he's more concerned about at the moment. prompto's crying is like a knife to the heart, but gladio's silence is like nails down a chalkboard. still, ignis says nothing but continues in his routine as efficiently as he can, focusing on making dinner, clearing it away and setting down for the evening. sleep was impossible and all the retainer manages to do is map where the ceiling needs cleaning for tomorrow before he starts the routine all over again. food, coffee, cleaning, repeat. there's nothing else left in this etro-forsaken world and ignis isn't going to let his friends leave him, not if he can help it...

it's halfway through the day when ignis finally speaks up, placing another coffee on the windowsill next to gladio. he's equal parts concerned and annoyed at the shield, knowing that the silence isn't healthy yet somehow envying gladiolus' ability to just sit and ignore everything that's going on. the tremor of hands gives away the emotions running through the larger male, but ignis can't help but count inwardly to three before he speaks, trying to keep his tone as even as possible.]

Niflheim forces have been spotted approximately five miles away. We will need to move soon.

Why? ❰ it's his first word in nearly a day (and his voice is hoarse to show for it), but its immediate. he doesn't look at ignis yet, but his eyes seem to have refocused slightly on the rooftops outside of the window and the landscape beyond and the tremor of his hands intensifies for a moment before he curls them loosely into fists. ❱ If they're coming for us, I'm waiting for them.

❰ any other time, he might tell ignis to get prompto out of here before that happens. right now, he doesn't have it in him to try. and hell, for all he knows, prompto might feel the same way he does - that taking out a lesser army of the niffs that took noct from them might be a decent enough way to go out themselves.

the coffee, meanwhile, goes untouched. ❱

[ the answer from gladio isn't exactly a surprise to ignis as he duly listens to the other's thoughts on the matter. how nice it must be to so ignorant of the facts and just go running headfirst into whatever was going on. it didn't matter that they were in an outpost that would probably get destroyed in the fighting or that normally they would fight the niflheim forces out in the open and away from innocent people.

later ignis would realize his reaction is out of proportion to what's going on, bordering on the line of hysteria, but right now in the moment he's barely even aware. all he can feel is the persistent sense of loss. he should be consoling his friend, mourning the loss of noct, not feeling irritated at the other for the slightest resistance.] No, we all need to be leaving shortly. We cannot allow the fighting to take place here. Drink your coffee and be ready to move.

❰ the logic is sound, gladio can at least recognize that in a detached sort of way. it's the kind of logic they'd use to dictate their choices if noctis were still here with them. but as it turns out, he isn't - so the coffee remains untouched and gladiolus remains unbudged. ❱

Move, then. ❰ his words themselves are certain, but there's an audible void where conviction should be. ❱ Take him and go.

[ ignis can scarcely believe what he's hearing. take him and go. as if they were going to leave someone else behind knowing full well that gladio would be killed during the onslaught. certainly he would take some of the bastards down, that isn't even up for debate, but from the info that's been sent their way this is more than just a few MTs on a routine patrol.

is this gladio's idea of a joke and ignis just isn't getting it? he clenches his fists, gritting his teeth as he bites his next words out. etro help him.] We are not leaving without you, are you having any problems understanding that part?

❰ this is no joke. this is the farthest thing from a joke that gladio has probably told anyone in his whole life. if a lesser army of magitech soldiers are going to show up on their doorway, maybe that's how this is supposed to go. and he'll fight and what's left of their army will put him down hard, or else he'll wipe them out and that, that'll be his sign that he was meant to make it through this.

but ignis is being obstinate and gladio's getting tied of the argument, so he's going to have to put an end to this somehow. ❱

You can get the civilians out of here, or you can stand here and bitch at me 'til the Niffs come and gun them all down.

[ the fact gladio could even say such a thing is such a surprise that ignis has to silently mouth the words to himself, repeating them as if they had some hidden meaning that he's missed the first time in his disbelief. Get the civilians out of here....

ignis can't curb the frustration and grief any longer, both feelings suddenly overwhelming enough to smother logic and common sense. they've just lost noctis, the one thing they were destined to follow forever. he's gone to a place where they can't follow and now gladio is being ridiculous, talking about them both standing there and letting others die as they do nothing. how dare he talk about such things so easily? to talk about civilians dying so callously and effortlessly. later ignis will realize that he skewed that out of proportion but right now it doesn't stop him from doing the first thing he can think of; a swift right hook to the other's face without so much as a word.]

❰ later, gladio too will realize how stupid and bull-headed he'd been throughout most of this conversation, but right at this moment he's making the only choice he feels like he has it in him to possibly make. if he can convince ignis to get the innocents away from the scene, nobody has to get caught in the crossfire.

the fist catches gladio entirely off guard. he's not braced for it in the slightest, and his head jerks to the side with little resistance. it doesn't hurt though - it should hurt, it's both solid and sharp plus stupidly fast, but gladio isn't... feeling shit properly right now. even if he were, it might not hurt right anyway. the blow hit below his eye, just short of dead-on with his scar, and that's been more numb then not for the two years he's had it.

but whether or not he feels it much on a physical level, it sends a spiderweb-crack trailing out in all directions across whatever mental-emotional barricade he's using to numb himself on the inside. ignis can't see it, not yet - the outward signs are subtle, a slow exhale as he straightens out his head again, the slow uncurling of his fists to grip white-knuckled on the chair's arms. a flicker of something in his eyes before he closes them. things are coming undone, but not quickly enough. to iggy, it probably seems like his uncharacteristic show of violence had no effect at all. ❱

[ ignis is certain that this is how it all ends, that it's this exact kind of shit that izunia has been trying to do all along. nothing is right and ignis feels as if he's in some kind of free fall, where there's no way to stop any of it nor any chance to gain some semblance of control. the last time ignis felt so helpless was the longest of times ago when he was nothing but a small child starting their first day of education in a school for the gifted. at least that had worked out. this whole useless exercise doesn't have a good end that ignis can see and he swallows his next words, realizing that he's just given gladio a conversation starter for the next few weeks. how has it come to this?

Sort yourself out, Gladio. ignis wants to shout the words, to shake gladiolus and make sure that the shield can't do anything except hear them. but what's the point? it's not changing anything and right now ignis is wishing he was anywhere in the world but here. he wishes it had been himself and not noct. anything but this.]

Right then. [ quiet, matter of fact, ignis turns and heads for the bed. he can't stand to look at anyone right now, let alone gladio and his non-reaction to everything around him. the bed is an easier target and ignis almost viciously begins to set the blankets straight, clicking his tongue as one of the corners begins to stray. he's over doing it, moving it here and there by the smallest of fractions and seeing some imperfection that requires restarting and it's only when it's perfect that ignis spots his one mistake. gladio is built of hard stuff and punching the other comes with it's own hazards; mainly a split knuckle that has consequently left a few drips of crimson across the white sheets.

ignis stares at those marks as if they're responsible for everything, expression one of bewildered hurt as though he just can't believe he's done this. it has to be perfect and now it's worse than when he started and already he's smoothing his hands over the marks in some vain attempt to get rid of them, gladio all but forgotten in the interim.]

❰ though there's no tangible difference in ignis's movements, his pain hits gladiolus like a truck. it's like a vacuum exists where iggy once stood, and gladio can't figure out how to properly breathe through the force of it.

before he can even think, he's on his feet, eyes open, heading for the bed and the man who until moments ago was struggling to make it. with shaking hands he reaches out to snag ignis's wrists in no uncertain terms and pull them up into the space between them. ❱ Stop, stop - ❰ low and raw, his next inhale a shudder. with only a moment's hesitation, his forehead falls heavily on iggy's shoulder. ❱ I-... ❰ but he doesn't know how to finish that sentence. how to fix any of this. he doesn't know why it suddenly matters that he even try, when just a minute ago he was content to sit here and make his final stand. ❱

[ the small drop of blood on the sheets is starting to become a serious problem in ignis' mind, representing everything that is wrong at that exact moment. if he'd had his gloves then it wouldn't have even become an issue, but then if noct hadn't died — if they hadn't failed — then his gloves would be where they were supposed to be.

it takes a second for ignis to even realise he can't move his hands, noticing that gladio has snagged them. when had he even moved from the chair without being spotted? ignis quickly wonders just how caught up he'd been to miss it, making no move to free his wrists or move away when gladio rests a forehead on his shoulder. gladio doesn't need to say anything, they understand each other even without having to say it. everything is a mess and no matter what they do it's not something so easily put back together, if at all. ignis swallows, voice thick as he tries to talk around the lump in his throat. his chest already feels inexplicably tight and he rests his jaw against gladio's temple in a small show of sympathy and understanding.] I don't know how to fix this...

❰ if there's any such thing as mercy anymore, it shows itself when ignis fails to lash out at him for a second time, instead pressing his jaw to gladio's temple to unknowingly offer what's probably the strongest grounding force gladio has right now. for a blissful second, there's almost nothing. it's not the eye of the storm, but to a much lesser degree it's not unlike it.

but moments later, gladio's inexplicably aware of how badly his hands are shaking, because now they're shaking iggy's hands just as badly, and somehow that's not an acceptable consequence, so with that realization comes release. he lets go of the other man's hands, not quite as if burned but not entirely gentle either, and - 'i don't know how to fix this...' - his own hands sink uselessly to his sides. ❱

You - ❰ but that wasn't even a word, really. a sound at best. he doesn't know where all of the air in his lungs went, but he forces them now to at least partway refill.

at once, gladio tries again. ❱ You don't fix this. Nobody does. ❰ he's not trying to be depressing or make this worse. he just can't lie right now, not to himself and for damn sure not to iggy. ❱

[ upon hearing those words from gladio, ignis can't help but close his eyes and hold his breath. hearing them spoken out loud just cements everything into place, that no matter what he does or how much he pretends everything is normal, nothing will truly be the same. the gaping hole left behind by noctis will never go away or stop hurting. normally people would grieve and in time come to accept their loss as they spend time fondly remembering their loved one. ignis knows better though. this will never get easier because it's not just a friend they've lost. he'd been just about raised to look after noctis and without him what else was there? what would he even do? there's no backup plan for when the center of your world falls apart.

ignis lets his breath out, ignoring how shaky it is as he blinks back tears. crying won't fix anything or solve any problems; shedding tears won't bring back the dead and ignis can't help but despise how his body betrays him as the corners of his vision begin to blur. he even reaches out to snag gladio's wrist with one hand, taking the smallest piece of solace he can in that simple touch.] Then what's the point?

❰ iggy's shaking. at least his breath is, and gladio may have been shaking all this time but this is different. ignis, he's-... well, obviously not impenetrable, but some part of gladio used to think he was.

it's as if all this time, he expected iggy to have some kind of logical rationale for why things aren't entirely fucked. but he doesn't, and the weight of that fact bears down hard on gladio's shoulders. it's heavy, too heavy.

the instant the hand closes around his wrist, gladio's knees drop out from under him, forehead sliding off ignis's shoulder and down most of his chest. and then he's on a knee, almost as if he's taking some sort of oath instead of simply falling apart. his other hand's found the one wrapped around his wrist and that's where his forehead rests now, on the only contact left between them. it's a lifeline he doesn't deserve. ❱

I should've - ❰ he chokes, sucking in a hitched breath. his own eyes are swimming now, the carpet blurring in the moment before he closes them altogether. ❱ I-, I did this. All I had to do was - ❰ was protect the prince. he had one job. ❱

[ there are no answers for what has happened, nor are there answers for what they should be doing next and that realization takes ignis' breath away all over again. everything they have done up until now had a purpose and now there was nothing to look towards but a chasm of uncertainty. there is no longer a set direction for them to follow.

ignis snaps out of his fugue a little as he feels gladio sinking to one knee. it's not difficult to see the thought process and emotions that gladiolus is going through. to some degree they all feel it, but ignis knows on some level that the amicitia family had their own crosses to bear and that the death of the crown prince would be something to haunt gladio for decades. ignis quickly makes a decision, trying to ignore his own crippling pain in order to help another. he doesn't have any hope for the future or plans to make for them to adhere to, but ignis knows that at least right now he can try to make some kind of a difference.

otherwise what else is there? what is the point of any of this? what is the point to him?

ignis crouches down as he does his best to hold his own emotions in check. gladio needs him, he needs someone and ignis reaches out to place his free hand on the back of the other's neck.] You did not do this. You didn't.

[ ignis has had enough. for the last few days everything has been a whirlwind of activity from the moment the sun comes up until the moment they all finally lay down in the tent. it's been two days since they've even been in town let alone a motel and ignis is already feeling fed up from just about all of it. well that and gladio in particular. he's been getting a good few sidewards looks thrown his way when the other two aren't looking. ignis know gladio is doing it and he's certain that's the whole point.

getting hot under the collar without any way to fix it thanks to prompto and noctis needing things doing every hour of the day. cooking, hunts, driving, cooking... not for the first time ignis pushes his glasses up his nose with an inward sigh, wondering if he should just leave noct and prompto alone with their King's Quest game saves and just drag gladio away...

no, that wouldn't do. and so it isn't until the afternoon that an opportunity arises. they've managed to do what's needed and find a haven by 3pm. noct and prompto are recovering from what prompto has proclaimed to be a "food coma" and ignis is sure he's seen herbs a good walk away.]

I'll be leaving you now, try not to panic for at least an hour. I'll be back before it gets dark; there are herbs nearby that would do better in my supplies than they would growing out in the open. [ and then before either of the pair can think to offer-] Gladio, you can assist.

❰ oh, there's been more than a few looks. their little motel chat may not have actively spelled anything out, but it was more than telling enough for gladio to find the confidence to spend the last couple of days eyeing ignis up and down when he was looking but the other two were conveniently distracted. and then there was the eye contact, established just in time to lick some food off his thumb or something similarly 'innocent' and lingering just a little too long before he glanced away.

ignis took an impressively long time to acknowledge the efforts. in fact, gladio even had to resort to unnecessary touch - the usual casual hand on iggy's shoulder this time skating partway down his back on gladio's way by, for example.

but it's been a good hour or so since his latest attempt, and he's actually thoroughly invested in fixing up the campfire to keep burning with less personal attention when all of a sudden he's being co-opted for an outing.

...oh.

welp, he's rising to his feet and brushing his hands off on his pants, because: ❱

Must be a lot of herbs, if you need my help.

❰ he knows damn well that it's not 'a lot of herbs'. ❱

[ that comment gets a raise of the eyebrows and a dry look. gladio has tried to get his attention a lot recently and now he's making comments that could endanger that. really. thankfully prompto and noctis are too busy pulling their phones out to pay much attention to the unimpressed look ignis is throwing gladio and as ignis turns on his heel to walk into the woods he hears the gunner's exclamation over an "in game event". ignis knows from that alone that he could vanish with gladio for hours and neither one would notice.

ignis keeps an eye out for herbs as he walks, making sure to take note of anything that would require taking back. it's just difficult to do when he keeps thinking of that lingering touch from gladio before. he may not have reacted visibly to it, but ignis is half certain the the shield just about branded him in doing so. lucky for him that gladio can take a hint to follow him, and once they're away from the camp's earshot ignis turns to face gladio.]

What are you doing? And don't say you're following me into the woods, you know what I'm talking about.

❰ gladio does indeed take a hint and follow, keeping his mouth pretty much shut as they trek off through the trees. he may or may not be taking mental bets of how far they're going to go, whether or not ignis will at least pretend to collect herbs and then roundaboutly inquire or whether he'll -

'what are you doing?'

well. that answers that.

gladio stops now too, shifting his weight onto one leg to say: ❱ No idea. ❰ honest and straightforward. then his tone drops fractionally, the barest corners of his lips twitching as he suppresses a grin. ❱ Is it working?

[ the question gladio puts forwards gives ignis pause. was it working? if it wasn't then they certainly wouldn't be standing in the middle of the woods even discussing it. but then what did gladio even mean by it to begin with?

and how did answering a question with another question even work? ignis huffs, folding his arms and fixing gladio with what he hopes is his sternest glare.]

Yes, it is working. [ that is going on the assumption that the shield is trying to wind him up. it's working extremely well.] And what are you going to do now you actually have my attention?

❰ it's probably entirely irritating to ignis, how amusing he can be when he's frustrated. gladio's managed to keep his straight face through the huffing and the obvious inner turmoil, but iggy's confession and its reluctance finally has him grinning.

but then comes the question, the 'what are you going to do', and that? that was unexpected. not shockingly so, but enough that he doesn't have an answer prepared. it's not even 'what are we going to do now', it's all on gladio.

so the grin fades, and he looks almost thoughtful for a second, then another.

then, decisively, he closes the distance between them in two quick strides, one arm sliding around ignis's lower back as the other catches his face and pulls him into a lingering kiss.

good enough answer for you, ignis? ❱

[ ignis waits to see what the answer is, knowing full well that the shield has heard the way it was phrased. you not we. he wants to see what gladio will even do or how far he's even willing to go.

the few seconds that pass feel almost too long and then before ignis can even move there's arm arm snaking around his lower back. ignis doesn't pull away from the kiss, instead taking a second to enjoy the almost overwhelming sense of relief as he slides his own hands up to occupy gladio's shoulders. finally. he gives a small hum of appreciation before firmly returning the kiss. it's a good enough answer for now.]

❰ there's a sort of give from ignis that he hadn't expected. it kinda makes gladio wonder how bad he really did get to him, a curiosity that at the very least gives him an excuse to fall back on if any of this ends up backfiring.

not that he thinks it's going to. ignis is kissing him back now in no uncertain terms, and that's pretty much the only cue gladio needs to press forward, one step, two steps, three - and all of a sudden, ignis is bodily pinned to a nearby tree. gladio's forearm braces against the rough bark while his other arm lingers firmly around the man's waist. none of this, mind you, interrupted his kissing, though he does pause just long enough to catch ignis's bottom lip lightly between his teeth. ❱

[ the only reason ignis slightly gives so easily is so he can control the situation, to take stock of exactly what is going on and how far gladio is willing to push his luck given the opportunity. that's what ignis is going to keep on telling himself as he clutches at gladio's shoulders just that bit tighter. as far as he's concerned right now, after lingering touches and too much time on his hands to overthink things, this is just fine.

ignis moves backwards easily as gladio moves them, leaning back against the arm and the tree as he twists a hand in the front of Gladio's shirt. he can't help the small gasp at teeth on his lip, green eyes fluttering shut as he tries to ignore the way his back arches just so. this was ridiculous, ignis can recognize as much, but at the same time the shield has managed to get under his skin so well and ignis is already leaning back up and into another kiss, this time making sure to part his lips and tilt his head back in silent invitation, curious to see if gladio will take the opportunity.]

❰ oh, he'll take it. his own lips part in turn, deepening the kiss even further with a pleased hum in the back of his throat. in fact, he'll do him one better, hips rolling forward just slightly to establish just one more point of contact.

you'd think he'd at least be a little bit nervous, but gladio doesn't really see it as pushing his luck, considering ignis is obviously not objecting. ❱

Edited 2017-02-27 06:25 (UTC)

open post

in which the prince has fallen and nothing is alright. (just remember you asked for this.)

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@protecting

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next one will be way better, i'm tired as fuq