(Neither the filler above, nor the potential filler above that! I wrote this and then came back to find that someone had already filled it, and that their version is much funnier than mine, but here's another fill, if you're interested in a slightly different take on this scenario.)
“Makes things easier if you move your feet,” Gladio says.
Prompto doesn’t seem interested in making things easier. Prompto generally doesn’t seem aware of much. He’s draped against Gladio’s side, murmuring contentedly to himself.
“You’re such a lightweight,” Gladio mutters.
“’m not drunk.”
“Say that again with more vowels,” Gladio suggests, heaving Prompto through the door of the Leville. “Maybe I’ll believe you. You owe me for dragging your ass back here.”
“Mmmm,” Prompto hums, pressing his face into Gladio’s arm. Gladio can feel the vibration in his throat. “You’re so strong.”
“Yeah, I know. C’mon.”
It’s a pain to get him up the fancy staircase; kid probably weighs less than Gladio’s sword, but Gladio’s sword doesn’t do so much damn shifting around. Eventually, though, he’s heaving Prompto onto his bed.
Gladio’s planning to head back and join the others at the bar, because some people who can hold their alcohol haven’t had nearly enough to drink, but Prompto grabs for his arm as he moves away, flails, falls off the bed, and... okay, might be best not to leave him alone right now.
Gladio heaves him up onto the bed again, not helped by Prompto trying to put his hands all over Gladio’s face. He tugs up Prompto’s shirt and inspects his hip, where he landed hardest. No external signs of damage. Probably going to bruise. He’d better check nothing’s broken.
He presses his fingers against Prompto’s hip. “You feel anything?”
Prompto shifts closer to Gladio, with a little sigh. Gladio firmly pushes him back towards the centre of the bed. He’s not falling off again.
It’s not an answer, but it’s not a cry of pain, either. Prompto’s probably fine. Just have to watch him and make sure he doesn’t end up choking on his own vomit.
Gladio tries to go for the chair, but Prompto makes an indistinct noise of protest and grabs for him again. Fine. He sits down on the side of the bed, turned inwards so he can keep an eye on Prompto.
“Get some sleep,” Gladio says.
“Don’t want sleep.”
“I’m not here to worry about what you want,” Gladio says. “All I care about is what you need. You need to get some sleep.”
Prompto reaches out for Gladio again, but he lets his hand fall short. He’s quiet for a while. Always a little weird when the kid sees a silence and doesn’t immediately jump to fill it. Gladio would take it as a sign that he’s actually trying to sleep, only Prompto is just looking at him, and closing his eyes seems like a pretty important step.
“Do you ever look at guys?” Prompto asks at last, quietly.
Huh? “Nope. Never met a guy in my life.”
“Yeah.” Prompto rolls onto his side, facing away from him. “Guess you wouldn’t.”
Does he ever look at guys? What kind of question...?
Oh.
“You got something to tell me?” Gladio asks.
“No,” Prompto mutters.
“Hey.” Gladio grabs Prompto’s side, planning to pull him back over to face him, and something in the way Prompto jerks when he touches him tells Gladio he isn’t just going to confess his attraction to Noct. Shit.
Prompto takes a deep, shuddering breath, still not turning to look at him. “I mean, I owe you, you said I owe you, right? For – for – and I know I’m not a girl, but I could probably still make it feel good – I mean, I’d try.” Gladio can feel him shaking under his hand. “I’ve never – before. And I know you’re probably huge, like, wow, huge. But I’d try really hard.”
Gladio takes a moment to try to process that. “Huh.”
To process that, and not to picture it, because it isn’t happening.
“You’re drunk,” Gladio says.
“No, I’m okay. I’m okay, I swear.”
“I’m not doing anything with someone who can’t even walk straight.”
“I can, I’ll show you—”
Prompto lurches up out of the bed, and Gladio moves sharply to catch him before he falls, and – okay, now he’s got Prompto pressed up against him, that’s somehow become the situation. Prompto is breathing open-mouthed into his collarbone, and how the hell did he somehow manage to drag Prompto all the way here without once thinking about how close he is, how warm and alive and...
Gladio’s feeling too hot under his open jacket, it’s always too hot in Lestallum, and normally he’d shrug the jacket off, but that seems like a bad idea right now.
“I’d be good,” Prompto mumbles, pressing kisses along the beak of Gladio’s tattoo.
“Get some sleep.”
Prompto shakes his head, holding on to Gladio like it’ll kill him if he lets go. “No.”
“Get some sleep,” Gladio says, lowering him back down onto the bed, “and we’ll see how you feel in the morning.”
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: gladio/prompto drunk shenanigans
Date: 2017-01-01 10:40 am (UTC)“Makes things easier if you move your feet,” Gladio says.
Prompto doesn’t seem interested in making things easier. Prompto generally doesn’t seem aware of much. He’s draped against Gladio’s side, murmuring contentedly to himself.
“You’re such a lightweight,” Gladio mutters.
“’m not drunk.”
“Say that again with more vowels,” Gladio suggests, heaving Prompto through the door of the Leville. “Maybe I’ll believe you. You owe me for dragging your ass back here.”
“Mmmm,” Prompto hums, pressing his face into Gladio’s arm. Gladio can feel the vibration in his throat. “You’re so strong.”
“Yeah, I know. C’mon.”
It’s a pain to get him up the fancy staircase; kid probably weighs less than Gladio’s sword, but Gladio’s sword doesn’t do so much damn shifting around. Eventually, though, he’s heaving Prompto onto his bed.
Gladio’s planning to head back and join the others at the bar, because some people who can hold their alcohol haven’t had nearly enough to drink, but Prompto grabs for his arm as he moves away, flails, falls off the bed, and... okay, might be best not to leave him alone right now.
Gladio heaves him up onto the bed again, not helped by Prompto trying to put his hands all over Gladio’s face. He tugs up Prompto’s shirt and inspects his hip, where he landed hardest. No external signs of damage. Probably going to bruise. He’d better check nothing’s broken.
He presses his fingers against Prompto’s hip. “You feel anything?”
Prompto shifts closer to Gladio, with a little sigh. Gladio firmly pushes him back towards the centre of the bed. He’s not falling off again.
It’s not an answer, but it’s not a cry of pain, either. Prompto’s probably fine. Just have to watch him and make sure he doesn’t end up choking on his own vomit.
Gladio tries to go for the chair, but Prompto makes an indistinct noise of protest and grabs for him again. Fine. He sits down on the side of the bed, turned inwards so he can keep an eye on Prompto.
“Get some sleep,” Gladio says.
“Don’t want sleep.”
“I’m not here to worry about what you want,” Gladio says. “All I care about is what you need. You need to get some sleep.”
Prompto reaches out for Gladio again, but he lets his hand fall short. He’s quiet for a while. Always a little weird when the kid sees a silence and doesn’t immediately jump to fill it. Gladio would take it as a sign that he’s actually trying to sleep, only Prompto is just looking at him, and closing his eyes seems like a pretty important step.
“Do you ever look at guys?” Prompto asks at last, quietly.
Huh? “Nope. Never met a guy in my life.”
“Yeah.” Prompto rolls onto his side, facing away from him. “Guess you wouldn’t.”
Does he ever look at guys? What kind of question...?
Oh.
“You got something to tell me?” Gladio asks.
“No,” Prompto mutters.
“Hey.” Gladio grabs Prompto’s side, planning to pull him back over to face him, and something in the way Prompto jerks when he touches him tells Gladio he isn’t just going to confess his attraction to Noct. Shit.
Prompto takes a deep, shuddering breath, still not turning to look at him. “I mean, I owe you, you said I owe you, right? For – for – and I know I’m not a girl, but I could probably still make it feel good – I mean, I’d try.” Gladio can feel him shaking under his hand. “I’ve never – before. And I know you’re probably huge, like, wow, huge. But I’d try really hard.”
Gladio takes a moment to try to process that. “Huh.”
To process that, and not to picture it, because it isn’t happening.
“You’re drunk,” Gladio says.
“No, I’m okay. I’m okay, I swear.”
“I’m not doing anything with someone who can’t even walk straight.”
“I can, I’ll show you—”
Prompto lurches up out of the bed, and Gladio moves sharply to catch him before he falls, and – okay, now he’s got Prompto pressed up against him, that’s somehow become the situation. Prompto is breathing open-mouthed into his collarbone, and how the hell did he somehow manage to drag Prompto all the way here without once thinking about how close he is, how warm and alive and...
Gladio’s feeling too hot under his open jacket, it’s always too hot in Lestallum, and normally he’d shrug the jacket off, but that seems like a bad idea right now.
“I’d be good,” Prompto mumbles, pressing kisses along the beak of Gladio’s tattoo.
“Get some sleep.”
Prompto shakes his head, holding on to Gladio like it’ll kill him if he lets go. “No.”
“Get some sleep,” Gladio says, lowering him back down onto the bed, “and we’ll see how you feel in the morning.”