Gladio had a wife and kids now, and a paying job, as weird as it was to think about. He worked out a schedule where he was able to stay over one to three days a week, setting up a tent in the yard to sleep in just like old times, huh?.
In a lot of ways, Prompto was relieved to not be alone with Ignis all the time. Ignis was a frankly terrifying caregiver, following every instruction perfectly, like that was some kind of magic formula that would keep death at bay. Prompto missed magic. Potions had reset him back to normal; the medicines he took always had trade-offs. He could be pain-free but at the cost of not be able to think straight, and his heart was kept functioning with a side order of headaches, dizziness, and exhaustion.
Some day, the fact that Ignis was going to lose this battle was going to sink home, and Prompto almost didn't want to be around for that. Ignis deserved better.
One morning the home helper – Gen – got Prompto up and dressed, clean shaven and medicated, and then helped him shuffle out of the bedroom and over to the table for breakfast. Prompto knew he sounded grumpy when he said that he used to run ten kilos every morning and never breathed this hard, but it was true. Amazing how quickly all his health had just melted away.
Gladio was seated already, but he got up when Prompto sat and said, "Hey." He went to go fill a bowl full of Ignis' latest gruel recipe and plonked it on the table with a grin. "I made Iggy take the day off. He was looking more dead on his feet than you." Behind Prompto, Gen snorted; he was still getting used to the warped senses of humor everyone had.
"Later, man," Gen said, giving a chill nod. "Have a good one." He saw himself out, whistling under his breath. Prompto liked him, though he didn't get how anyone could enjoy the job he did.
"I want to go to Angelgard," Prompto said when he'd eaten as much as he could, and Gladio was writing down how many grams that was in the care log. Gladio looked at him like he was an idiot. "I'm never going to get healthier than this," Prompto pointed out. "I go every year, to pay my respects and stuff. You know I can't ask Ignis."
"Fuck." Gladio grimaced at that, but he grabbed his phone to call around for permission. The tombs and the shrine on the mainland were open to the public, and at this point there were probably more pilgrims coming to pay their respects than vacationers. Ignis said – rather scornfully – that it was like watching a religion being born. Only a very few were allowed to set foot on the sacred ground of Angelgard itself, for fear of calling down the wrath of the Six: just those who had fought with the King of Light, and when they had all passed into the beyond, the island would be barred to all.
They drove down muffled in Gladio's uncomfortable disapproval, picking up flowers and candles on the way. Prompto felt weird saying farewell at the tombs – more like, see you soon – and he napped on the boat ride over, the waves lapping at the sides making him dream of the lake again. Gladio managed to brute-force the wheelchair halfway up the path to the old prison but no further, so Prompto had to be carried the rest of the way.
"Like a bride," Prompto laughed helplessly into Gladio's shoulder. "My hero."
Prompto's skin began to prickle as they approached the shadowed entryway, all the hair on his arms standing on end like the air was charged with magic or electricity, a hint of unknowable power whose attention he did not want to attract.
A rough altar had been built before the stairs, and Gladio settled Prompto on the ground, wrapped up in his blanket with his back to a sun-warmed stone, while he rinsed the topstone clean with a bottleful of water, and then made the offerings to the Six. Despite the sea breeze, the candle flames didn't flicker or gutter, their wisps of smoke rising straight.
For a moment, Gladio looked like he might pray or something, which made Prompto a bit nervous – he knew how gods granted wishes, that was why Ignis was blind and Noct was dead. But then Gladio got to his feet, rolled his shoulders back, and broke out the lunch he'd packed. He settled next to Prompto and helped him out, which hardly even registered as humiliating these days. Just another thing Prompto was giving up. Speaking of which...
"Hey, Gladio."
Gladio waved one hand while chewing, intent on shoving in the last bit of his his meat sandwich.
"I want to ask you a huge favor."
Gladio chewed, swallowed, and then sighed heavily; the flames didn't stir. "I'm not ready to hear your last wishes. I know – I know, okay? But I'm trying real hard not to believe."
"I've been there." Prompto fiddled with the fringe on the edge of the blanket Gladio'd wrapped him up in. They'd probably need to wash it when they got home. Ignis would be displeased. "Promise me you'll look after Ignis when I'm gone."
Gladio stared out at the ocean, a deep and roiling blue visible beyond the stone plaza. Maybe he was wondering what kind of fish lived off the shores of the gods' own island, or perhaps he was just avoiding Prompto's gaze.
"He'd hate that," Gladio said finally. "He'd be a condescending prick and thank me for my concern, and then fuck off to Niflheim again. There's no one in this world who can look after that man."
Prompto wet his lips. He wanted Ignis to stay in his little house with the view out over a kickass beach, and tend to the garden, and sleep in his bed with someone who loved him. "He won't tell me what he does when he goes there."
Gladio shoved to his feet and stretched; avoidance tactic number two. "Remember when we found you in Zegnautus, you and Noct had a heart-to-heart while me and Ignis pretended we weren't eavesdropping? Noct promised you, when he was king, he'd unite Lucis and Niflheim, except – yeah. So guess who's decided that's his life mission."
Prompto tried to wrap his head around that, and failed. "Is it working?"
"You know how much Ignis loves talking about himself. It used to be – when Noct was alive, we had a shared purpose, and we knew each others' strengths and weaknesses. After he was gone and the world was saved, it took years to figure out how to have different ambitions, and by the time I got my head out of my own ass, you and Iggy were on opposite sides of Lucis and barely talking. Never figured that one out. You were good for each other during the darkness. I know he loved you like crazy."
Prompto's eyes went wide, and every beat of his poor struggling heart thudded heavy in his chest. Oh.
His thoughts must have been clear on his face, because Gladio grimaced and said, "He never said."
"Not one word."
"Eh. He's a do-er, not a tell-er." Gladio dug in his pack for Prompto's medicines and helped him wash the pills down with water from a flask. "Probably wouldn't have made much difference anyway."
Prompto slumped, at the limit for how much energy he had to expend today... this week... whatever. "Would've," he muttered stubbornly as he fought his dropping eyelids. "To me."
"Time to head home?" he heard Gladio ask, and he rallied just enough to make an affirmative noise. If Noct didn't know by now that Prompto was on his way, he didn't know how else to get the message to him.
He slept the whole way home, and barely had the strength to eat dinner, despite the way Ignis coaxed. Through his daze, he heard Gladio and Ignis talking – not yelling, which he'd worried about. Gladio even laughed, an air-shaking rumble that made Prompto smile, and eased him into his drugged, dream-fraught sleep.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Re: Fill Prompto, problems with being a clone, postgame sickfic? "For What It's Worth" 3/5
Date: 2018-01-28 11:03 am (UTC)Gladio had a wife and kids now, and a paying job, as weird as it was to think about. He worked out a schedule where he was able to stay over one to three days a week, setting up a tent in the yard to sleep in just like old times, huh?.
In a lot of ways, Prompto was relieved to not be alone with Ignis all the time. Ignis was a frankly terrifying caregiver, following every instruction perfectly, like that was some kind of magic formula that would keep death at bay. Prompto missed magic. Potions had reset him back to normal; the medicines he took always had trade-offs. He could be pain-free but at the cost of not be able to think straight, and his heart was kept functioning with a side order of headaches, dizziness, and exhaustion.
Some day, the fact that Ignis was going to lose this battle was going to sink home, and Prompto almost didn't want to be around for that. Ignis deserved better.
One morning the home helper – Gen – got Prompto up and dressed, clean shaven and medicated, and then helped him shuffle out of the bedroom and over to the table for breakfast. Prompto knew he sounded grumpy when he said that he used to run ten kilos every morning and never breathed this hard, but it was true. Amazing how quickly all his health had just melted away.
Gladio was seated already, but he got up when Prompto sat and said, "Hey." He went to go fill a bowl full of Ignis' latest gruel recipe and plonked it on the table with a grin. "I made Iggy take the day off. He was looking more dead on his feet than you." Behind Prompto, Gen snorted; he was still getting used to the warped senses of humor everyone had.
"Later, man," Gen said, giving a chill nod. "Have a good one." He saw himself out, whistling under his breath. Prompto liked him, though he didn't get how anyone could enjoy the job he did.
"I want to go to Angelgard," Prompto said when he'd eaten as much as he could, and Gladio was writing down how many grams that was in the care log. Gladio looked at him like he was an idiot. "I'm never going to get healthier than this," Prompto pointed out. "I go every year, to pay my respects and stuff. You know I can't ask Ignis."
"Fuck." Gladio grimaced at that, but he grabbed his phone to call around for permission. The tombs and the shrine on the mainland were open to the public, and at this point there were probably more pilgrims coming to pay their respects than vacationers. Ignis said – rather scornfully – that it was like watching a religion being born. Only a very few were allowed to set foot on the sacred ground of Angelgard itself, for fear of calling down the wrath of the Six: just those who had fought with the King of Light, and when they had all passed into the beyond, the island would be barred to all.
They drove down muffled in Gladio's uncomfortable disapproval, picking up flowers and candles on the way. Prompto felt weird saying farewell at the tombs – more like, see you soon – and he napped on the boat ride over, the waves lapping at the sides making him dream of the lake again. Gladio managed to brute-force the wheelchair halfway up the path to the old prison but no further, so Prompto had to be carried the rest of the way.
"Like a bride," Prompto laughed helplessly into Gladio's shoulder. "My hero."
Prompto's skin began to prickle as they approached the shadowed entryway, all the hair on his arms standing on end like the air was charged with magic or electricity, a hint of unknowable power whose attention he did not want to attract.
A rough altar had been built before the stairs, and Gladio settled Prompto on the ground, wrapped up in his blanket with his back to a sun-warmed stone, while he rinsed the topstone clean with a bottleful of water, and then made the offerings to the Six. Despite the sea breeze, the candle flames didn't flicker or gutter, their wisps of smoke rising straight.
For a moment, Gladio looked like he might pray or something, which made Prompto a bit nervous – he knew how gods granted wishes, that was why Ignis was blind and Noct was dead. But then Gladio got to his feet, rolled his shoulders back, and broke out the lunch he'd packed. He settled next to Prompto and helped him out, which hardly even registered as humiliating these days. Just another thing Prompto was giving up. Speaking of which...
"Hey, Gladio."
Gladio waved one hand while chewing, intent on shoving in the last bit of his his meat sandwich.
"I want to ask you a huge favor."
Gladio chewed, swallowed, and then sighed heavily; the flames didn't stir. "I'm not ready to hear your last wishes. I know – I know, okay? But I'm trying real hard not to believe."
"I've been there." Prompto fiddled with the fringe on the edge of the blanket Gladio'd wrapped him up in. They'd probably need to wash it when they got home. Ignis would be displeased. "Promise me you'll look after Ignis when I'm gone."
Gladio stared out at the ocean, a deep and roiling blue visible beyond the stone plaza. Maybe he was wondering what kind of fish lived off the shores of the gods' own island, or perhaps he was just avoiding Prompto's gaze.
"He'd hate that," Gladio said finally. "He'd be a condescending prick and thank me for my concern, and then fuck off to Niflheim again. There's no one in this world who can look after that man."
Prompto wet his lips. He wanted Ignis to stay in his little house with the view out over a kickass beach, and tend to the garden, and sleep in his bed with someone who loved him. "He won't tell me what he does when he goes there."
Gladio shoved to his feet and stretched; avoidance tactic number two. "Remember when we found you in Zegnautus, you and Noct had a heart-to-heart while me and Ignis pretended we weren't eavesdropping? Noct promised you, when he was king, he'd unite Lucis and Niflheim, except – yeah. So guess who's decided that's his life mission."
Prompto tried to wrap his head around that, and failed. "Is it working?"
"You know how much Ignis loves talking about himself. It used to be – when Noct was alive, we had a shared purpose, and we knew each others' strengths and weaknesses. After he was gone and the world was saved, it took years to figure out how to have different ambitions, and by the time I got my head out of my own ass, you and Iggy were on opposite sides of Lucis and barely talking. Never figured that one out. You were good for each other during the darkness. I know he loved you like crazy."
Prompto's eyes went wide, and every beat of his poor struggling heart thudded heavy in his chest. Oh.
His thoughts must have been clear on his face, because Gladio grimaced and said, "He never said."
"Not one word."
"Eh. He's a do-er, not a tell-er." Gladio dug in his pack for Prompto's medicines and helped him wash the pills down with water from a flask. "Probably wouldn't have made much difference anyway."
Prompto slumped, at the limit for how much energy he had to expend today... this week... whatever. "Would've," he muttered stubbornly as he fought his dropping eyelids. "To me."
"Time to head home?" he heard Gladio ask, and he rallied just enough to make an affirmative noise. If Noct didn't know by now that Prompto was on his way, he didn't know how else to get the message to him.
He slept the whole way home, and barely had the strength to eat dinner, despite the way Ignis coaxed. Through his daze, he heard Gladio and Ignis talking – not yelling, which he'd worried about. Gladio even laughed, an air-shaking rumble that made Prompto smile, and eased him into his drugged, dream-fraught sleep.