Ignis wouldn't let Gladio have the water on as hot as he wanted; said it might make him lightheaded. While that was probably true---and on the one hand, the mental image of the three of them trying to get his big floppy carcass out of this small slippery space made him grin---the part of him that could already feel chills beginning, mentally called Ignis a dick.
It did feel nice to get clean, though, especially given that before long he was going to be all sweaty and gross again. Maybe Iggy would give him one of those sponge baths.
He dried off sitting on the closed toilet---because Six-dammit, there came the weakness, right on schedule---and dressed in a pair of his old sweats. After some consideration, he also pulled on socks. He could always take them off later, but few things sucked as much as trying to sleep with cold feet. By the time he was changed and ready, the pulsing in his head was starting to fuzz his vision in and out, and his perception of the room itself was tilted; he had a vague sense of wrongness, but not in any concrete way. Not good; his temp must be higher than he'd thought. The rash, meanwhile, had asserted itself viciously. It hurt even to wear the soft-sleeved sweatshirt and it would only get worse as the irritation moved around on his body.
Noct and Prompto immediately went to steady him and guide him over to the bed, and he was far too tired and grateful to protest. His bones were starting to ache, inwardly icing over as the flare took hold in earnest. He found himself curling up on his side as they covered him, shivering despite the weight of what felt like several extra blankets. From far away Prompto's voice said, "I don't get it, he's burning up, how can he possibly feel cold?"
It was a good question, but not one he was equipped at that moment to answer. Someone placed a wet cloth on his forehead, and he tried sleepily to mumble his thanks, but he suspected it came out blurry as his leaden eyes closed. Then there was blessed nothingness.
Ignis took the first shift to sit with him; room service sent up a meal for the three of them and clear broth and rehydration drinks for Gladio. The Shield breathed like he was running, his chest rising and falling rapidly in his sleep. Once the first wave of chills shivered through him he uncurled and turned on his back. One hand seemed to search for something, his brow wrinkling in a worried frown as he mumbled something unintelligible. Acting on a hunch, Ignis reached out and placed his hand in Gladio's, pleased at how it closed tight around his and squeezed. Glassy amber eyes opened to blink confusedly at him, as he refluffed the pillow.
"It's alright, Gladio. We're all safe. Noct is in the shower, Prompto is over there playing King's Knight, and I'm here with you. No need for weapons right now."
It seemed to take a moment, but Gladio slowly nodded.
"Good, that's good. Are you hungry?"
A pause, then a slow headshake.
"Will you try to eat a little something anyhow? For me?"
He mumbled what sounded like agreement, and slowly sat up. Ignis helped him upright and brought the spoon to his lips. That seemed to ground him for a moment.
"Iggy? 'Zat?"
"Just broth. Nourishing, but should be tolerable on your stomach. Just a little at a time, okay?"
"....'Kay."
Obediently he took the spoonful and swallowed. Then he smiled that crooked smile and murmured, "You make better n'this."
FILL: The Cycle, 4/?, Gladio with a high fever, bros care for him
It did feel nice to get clean, though, especially given that before long he was going to be all sweaty and gross again. Maybe Iggy would give him one of those sponge baths.
He dried off sitting on the closed toilet---because Six-dammit, there came the weakness, right on schedule---and dressed in a pair of his old sweats. After some consideration, he also pulled on socks. He could always take them off later, but few things sucked as much as trying to sleep with cold feet. By the time he was changed and ready, the pulsing in his head was starting to fuzz his vision in and out, and his perception of the room itself was tilted; he had a vague sense of wrongness, but not in any concrete way. Not good; his temp must be higher than he'd thought. The rash, meanwhile, had asserted itself viciously. It hurt even to wear the soft-sleeved sweatshirt and it would only get worse as the irritation moved around on his body.
Noct and Prompto immediately went to steady him and guide him over to the bed, and he was far too tired and grateful to protest. His bones were starting to ache, inwardly icing over as the flare took hold in earnest. He found himself curling up on his side as they covered him, shivering despite the weight of what felt like several extra blankets. From far away Prompto's voice said, "I don't get it, he's burning up, how can he possibly feel cold?"
It was a good question, but not one he was equipped at that moment to answer. Someone placed a wet cloth on his forehead, and he tried sleepily to mumble his thanks, but he suspected it came out blurry as his leaden eyes closed. Then there was blessed nothingness.
Ignis took the first shift to sit with him; room service sent up a meal for the three of them and clear broth and rehydration drinks for Gladio. The Shield breathed like he was running, his chest rising and falling rapidly in his sleep. Once the first wave of chills shivered through him he uncurled and turned on his back. One hand seemed to search for something, his brow wrinkling in a worried frown as he mumbled something unintelligible. Acting on a hunch, Ignis reached out and placed his hand in Gladio's, pleased at how it closed tight around his and squeezed. Glassy amber eyes opened to blink confusedly at him, as he refluffed the pillow.
"It's alright, Gladio. We're all safe. Noct is in the shower, Prompto is over there playing King's Knight, and I'm here with you. No need for weapons right now."
It seemed to take a moment, but Gladio slowly nodded.
"Good, that's good. Are you hungry?"
A pause, then a slow headshake.
"Will you try to eat a little something anyhow? For me?"
He mumbled what sounded like agreement, and slowly sat up. Ignis helped him upright and brought the spoon to his lips. That seemed to ground him for a moment.
"Iggy? 'Zat?"
"Just broth. Nourishing, but should be tolerable on your stomach. Just a little at a time, okay?"
"....'Kay."
Obediently he took the spoonful and swallowed. Then he smiled that crooked smile and murmured, "You make better n'this."