noctis lucis caelum ✨ (ascension) wrote in arrivedic, @ 2019-01-26 15:45:00 |
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Given that Lucas had already been in bed by the time Gladio and Noctis had showed up for Caroline and Lizzie to head out for a late dinner, the evening had up to a point been fairly easy. Babysitting in the form of chilling on Caroline's couch watching a movie and raiding her fridge. Not much different than they would have been doing at home really. Noct's feet tucked under his legs, the comfort they both found in those little points of contact even if they were keeping it a little bit more on the subtle side than before. Something easy and light on the television, background noise to the comfortable silence they had always been able to fall into.
Silence that had been broken by Lucas' wails from his nursery. An easy and chill evening suddenly turning into anything but as Gladio watched Noctis attempt to calm the crying child. Gladio had moved into the bathroom, rummaged through some drawers until he'd found the thermometer. Concerned about the bright redness of Lucas' cheeks, Gladio did a quick temperature check, relieved to find it normal.
"No fever," he let Noctis know and set the thermometer down. "He's probably got some teeth coming in," he said, bringing up memories of Iris going through the same years and years ago. Nothing life threatening but not a good time either. "Here, let me," he said as he moved to gently take Lucas from Noctis, settling the still crying baby into the crook his arm.
"Oh that hurts, doesn't it, little guy?" Gladio asked softly, of course not expecting any reply in return as he moved toward the rocking chair in the room.
Between all the holiday celebrations and his friends crashing at his apartment, Noctis had been feeling a little overwhelmed the past few weeks. It felt as though his emotions were reaching a boiling point, and he was grateful for the fact that work offered a brief respite, even if the recent protests meant more complications than anything else. Noctis was used to extreme criticism or an unkind word, but harassment was at an all-time high, and he found himself returning home late more nights than he would've liked, tired and just a little shaken. That's why he treasured moments like this with Gladio so much—he didn't need to talk, he could just bask in the warmth of his company. No pressure, no expectations, just companionship.
Lucas' crying briefly made him smile before Noctis got up to retrieve him. "Alright, little one. I got you." His voice had turned impossibly warm, something he'd long since given up trying to hide when around children. Unfortunately, Lucas didn't seem to be in the mood for soft words that night, and not even gentle rocking pacified him. "That's a relief," Noctis said when Gladio confirmed there was no fever. Teething hadn't occurred to him, though, and he was suddenly reminded of the fact that his friend had practically raised Iris. Of course, that led to thinking about Gladio looking after a kid, which led to thinking about Gladio raising their kid.
Noctis swallowed hard and handed Lucas over, hesitating briefly. This was bad. Real bad. But an idea popped into his head, and he dragged over a nearby ottoman so he could sit in front of the two. "Hey, Lu. Check this out." He drew a symbol on his palm, then blew on it, a handful of snowflakes swirling into the air as if he'd been holding snow. With any luck, they could distract the poor guy for a bit, though really, Noctis was the one who needed something to do. Otherwise, he'd have to acknowledge the fact that seeing Gladio tenderly cradle a child made his heart race and his stomach swoop pleasantly. This was doing nothing to help his baby fever.
It hadn't been hard for Gladio to pick up on that stress, and really, it was probably to be expected - given everything that had been going on. It felt nice though to see that maybe it helped Noctis, at least a little, to have him around. And aside from the discussion of his health, Gladio had made a point to keep things low key. There was nothing really that needed to be brought up then anyways, it could all wait until things settled a bit more. Content instead to just be that quiet company that Noctis clearly needed. Calm and unwavering support. To make sure there was food waiting when the work days got long, or even when they didn't. At the ready with Henruit and a cup of tea the days that went really long.
Bit by bit they had settled into a rhythm, and as much as the idea of more lingered, Gladio had found himself more than content with what they had regardless. More than enough to even be allowed that closeness while he figured his shit out. To be able to glance over and see Noctis there - alive and breathing. To still fall into those small touches, feet under legs or soft brush of hands, little touchstones to reiterate that - alive and breathing.
Of course, the more was always present. The depth of his feelings for Noctis, the always clear thought tangled in everything - I love him. And the other thought that had taken hold somewhere between their reunion and waking up that first morning on Andromeda with Noctis tangled up in his arms again - I'm going to marry this man.
So it wasn't a stretch, as he held Lucas in his arms and watched Noctis pull up the ottoman and set about distraction duty, to think of this in another scenario. To let his mind wander to what it would be like, not with the child of one of their friends, but with their child. To be able to see that softness that fell over Noctis when he was around Lucas become something even more. It wasn't hard to see the joy that Lucas brought to Noctis, to let his mind drift to the joy kids of Noctis' own would bring.
Gladio smiled softly as he watched the snowflakes, Lucas giving a little noise of delight despite the little whimpers he had fallen into. He could easily hang onto Lucas with one arm, and he let his other hand gently card through the fine locks of hair with a soothing touch.
"Did you dad ever do that for you? Distractions with magic?" He knew it was a gamble. Bringing up either of their fathers always was. But there was good there too, sometimes. Memories that were precious even with all the complications and trappings of their family's positions. Moments that Gladio knew they both held dear if only for the simple fact they were few and far between. And he could picture it. Regis - as refined and regal as he was to the public - letting go around Noctis and playing in a similar manner.
Every time Noctis felt unsure about where he stood with Gladio, the weight of his friend's necklace underneath his tunic always helped to settle some of that stress. Not all, of course. He would always struggle with a deep, lasting tangle of self-doubt. But that physical reminder was something he could touch, and weave around his fingers, and cradle close to his chest. It meant more to Noctis than he could possibly say, but he suspected Gladio had some idea. He would soon, at any rate, because there was something very important he wanted to offer his dear friend, no matter where they ended up down the line. He just hadn't found the right time to hand it over.
"Pretty cool, right?" Noctis said, beaming when Lucas made a small noise of joy. That was more than he'd hoped for, and he was pleased he could still do something to help. It cut right down to his core to hear the poor thing cry, but something settled in his chest to see Lucas cradled securely in Gladio's arms. This was where he was meant to be: sitting with his dear friend, looking after a child. It was a moment he knew he'd never let go of.
The question surprised him, but it wasn't upsetting. That was all it took for memories of his father to resurface, the warmer, softer ones when they still spent time together—before Regis had pulled away. It was bittersweet. "Yeah," Noctis replied, careful to keep his tone neutral. The topic of their fathers had always been a minefield, and he didn't want to unintentionally upset Gladio. "He liked telling stories the most. Sometimes he'd reenact them with spells." Flicking his wrist, the snowflakes coalesced into the shape of a small dragon made of smoke. It cut lazy circles in the air between them, slithering like a snake.
Noctis hadn't openly played around with magic since he was a child, and certainly not since he lived in the Citadel. But people here didn't seem fazed by it. That was a welcome change. Glancing up to take in the picture Gladio made cradling a small child against his chest, Noctis swallowed hard, waving his hand to dismiss the wispy dragon from the air. "Kinda makes you think, doesn't it?" He wondered aloud, heart beating frantically. "What it might be like having kids, I mean."
It didn't hurt him, not in the least. Instead there was a soft smile that graced his face as he listened to Noctis share the memory. It would never be easy, thinking back on their fathers, he knew that. But for all the issues there - the lies and all the things withheld from the both of them - it was nice to hear that Noctis had a few good memories too. Memories that Gladio doubted Noctis shared with many people. "My dad used to try to do the voices," he paused, smirked. "He was terrible at them." Though it had always brought no small measure of joy to Gladio when Clarus had tried, especially when Iris had come along.
Gladio glanced down at Lucas, impossibly small in the crook of his arm as Noctis spoke. His thoughts immediately getting ahead of where they were as the words, the connotations behind them, brought up more than a few images of what a future between the two of them might look like. A future he wanted more than anything. "Yeah - it kinda does," he agreed and lifted his gaze to Noctis - expression warm and soft and without even an attempt to hide how hopelessly in love with Noctis he was. And if his heart was beating just as frantically at the turn in conversation, well, he could hardly be blamed for that.
A cry though pulled Gladio's gaze again and he shifted Lucas, draping him over his chest so he could rub his back with a soft it's okay little man, we got you. A move that seemed to settle Lucas back down, for the moment at least.
He let his gaze fall to Noctis again. "I always knew I'd have kids, kind of came with the territory - and I always liked the idea of it." Because of course, knowing you were supposed to do something and wanting to do that thing were two very different things. But the whole have some kids, ensure the line continued? That had never seemed like that bad of a deal to Gladio. It was something he had started to look forward to even, a family of his own. Plans half formed to do things different, because he and Noctis were different. To make sure their kids knew each other as just that, kids. Give them the space to be that before laying all the duty on them. Idle daydreams of long afternoons spent with their children, the sound of laughter in the yard, holidays and big chaotic dinners. It was only more recently that Gladio had started to realize when he thought of all of that, he had really been indulging the idea of a family with Noctis. Not just adjacent. That there had been a reason there was never any thought of spouses or partners.
He shifted a little, adjusting his hold on Lucas. "But then everything went to hell and -" he trailed off a little. The long night hadn't been the kind of world he would have ever wanted to raise a child in, and the man he was in the wake of Noctis' death wasn't the kind of man who would be a good father. Children just became another thing from his life that he had put away in box, that he had catalogued as what I don't deserve, what I can't have.
He made a soft shhhh noise as Lucas started to squirm and whimper again, hand still rubbing against the boy's back. "Kind of coming back around to it though," he finished with a soft smile.
Noctis hadn't talked about this with anyone before. It was often too painful, because for every good memory he had with his father, there were at least three others that reminded him of how distant Regis had become. But here, in this quiet moment with the person who understood that better than anyone else, Noctis felt comfortable enough to go there for a bit. Safe. "Voices? Really?" He smiled at that, a warm feeling settling in his chest. It meant a lot to him that Gladio was sharing this. Even if it was a little hard to imagine someone like the serious and formidable Clarus Amicitia doing silly voices for children, somehow, the more Noctis thought about it, the more likely it seemed.
That warmth inside him only grew, spreading out at the sight of Gladio's soft gaze upon the tiny Lucas in his arms. "You're a total natural," Noctis rumbled, voice a bit husky as he admired the utterly gorgeous picture his friend made right then. Not everyone had such an easy affinity with children, but Gladio always had in his eyes. He made it seem effortless, and kids so often flocked to him. You look so good like this, he thought, biting the inside of his cheek to keep the words from tumbling out of him. It helped that those amber eyes lifted to capture his own, because that look completely stole the breath from Noctis' lungs. He didn't know what to do with that—how to react, if he should react, trapped between an intense yearning and the ironclad control he had on himself, determined to ensure Gladio didn't feel a single ounce of pressure from him while he sorted things out.
A soft, shaky breath escaped him when that gaze turned away again. Damn, Noctis thought, a little uneasy with how close he'd gotten to closing that distance between him, a problem that kept arising more often than he'd like. I need to calm down. It's just the baby fever. Leaning back on his arms to try and force himself not to reach out, Noctis kept his eyes on Lucas while Gladio talked. It made sense that his friend had considered children in his future. They'd both been expected to enter into arranged marriages and continue their bloodlines. Still, it made him smirk a bit to hear his friend had actually enjoyed the idea. "It's cute that you thought about this before," Noctis said before he could filter himself, and he winced internally. Not exactly platonic there.
His smile vanished at the mention of the long night. That, too, made sense, even if he wished it didn't. Maybe if I'd been strong enough to—was cut off before he could allow his thoughts to go down that road. There was nothing left Noctis could do for his world. He was no longer part of it, and that was that.
"Well. You should consider it now," he replied, unaware that his eyes were impossibly soft again as he gazed at the pair they made. Even Noctis' voice had grown warmer to match, and really, he was completely hopeless at this point, but at least he was trying. "You'd make a really great father, Gladio. Seriously."
It was a problem Gladio could sympathize with. To keep that bit of distance that really, they probably both needed. What he should do battling so often now what what he wanted to do. And he couldn't help but wonder - worry maybe - about how much harder that might all get when Prompto was no longer there to serve as a buffer. When he couldn't fall back on wanting to give Prompto and Noctis space to sort their own evolving relationship out to give himself space from falling too deep into his own desires.
No, maybe not entirely platonic, but Gladio smiled at the remark anyways. Fond amusement in his gaze as he watched Noctis. But then they weren't really hiding their feelings were they, weren't trying to deny what had changed between them. Or what had always been there, but only now being allowed to be acknowledged. And so if his own gaze was just as soft as it met Noctis', what of it. This moment was theirs, quiet and tender and Gladio had every intention of savouring it.
"You would too, Noct," he replied. Voice soft but that didn't deter from the conviction in his words. He paused, realized maybe he had put his foot in his mouth even if everything he had seen when it came to Noctis' interactions with Lucas spoke otherwise. "If that was something you wanted." Not a duty anymore, not an expectation to carry on a line but a choice.
While Gladio worried about whether they could continue to maintain that distance between them, Noctis worried about backsliding into old habits once his friends moved out. He'd grown too used to having everyone around. Would he have trouble sleeping again without Prompto to tangle up with at night? Would he forget to eat if Gladio wasn't there puttering around the kitchen? Before, EDI was the only thing keeping him functional, and before that—
He didn't like thinking about it.
That look being directed at him made Noctis swallow. His whole body felt tingly and warm, and he marveled at the fact that he hadn't recognized his feelings until it was too late. "Thanks," Noctis said, voice hollow. He huffed, annoyed with himself for killing the mood, but he didn't want to get into the hundreds of reasons why he couldn't have children. It didn't matter what he wanted, and they both knew that. Gladio better than anyone. "Maybe I can be a cool uncle?" He perked up a bit at the thought. "Hot uncle status. I like it."
It was always a balancing act with Noctis when it came to certain things. Having to know when to push forward and when to hold back. When to let something go - not that letting go was Gladio's strong suit - and pick that fight another day. And more than that, which battles would always be just that. A battle. Gladio had no doubt Noctis' reply to the comment, and the larger issue it heralded, would fall into that category and he couldn't help but kick himself for drawing the conversation that way.
Maybe it was foolish how much Gladio believed that Noctis deserved all the things that came with a full life. The kind of life that hadn't been laid down in the cold of a throne room so others could have theirs. How much he wanted that for Noctis - whether with himself or someone else if that's what Noctis wanted. He knew, of course, the trepidation that Noctis had. Those thoughts that betrayed him and made him think he wasn't actually alive, despite being just that, and unworthy of what he might want. But Gladio knew he would fight as long as he needed to to make Noctis see otherwise.
"Well, you got the hot part down," he replied, a raise of his brows as he gave Noctis a cheeky smile.
He reached a foot across the space between them and nudged Noctis' with it. "But I think you could have more, if you wanted it," he said carefully. He didn't want to push necessarily, not in that moment at least. But he didn't want to leave it unsaid either.
Noctis knew full well how difficult he could be. He lived with himself, how could he not know? So many things hadn't been fair to Gladio (or Ignis, for that matter) because of him. His friends had been forced to raise a kid—with depression, no less—when they were kids themselves. If he could go back and stop that all from happening, he would. Or even better: spare his friends being dragged through hell in the first place simply because they were close to him. But there was nothing he could do about the past. Noctis could only try to make it easier on Gladio now, and that meant being less ... well. Him.
It helped when his friend fell into joking again, and he huffed out a laugh. "Keep flattering me and I might try baking tonight," Noctis replied, amused. "What d'you think, Lu? Will I do alright this time or scorch the kitchen again?" His soft gaze turned back to the baby in Gladio's arms, impossible to resist. He was so endlessly charmed by the sight.
Surprise briefly flashed across his expression when Gladio pushed the subject again. Noctis honestly didn't know how to respond, so he shifted a little, uneasy. He could say Thanks again, or a simple Okay, but it seemed as though Gladio was intent on something here. Something he couldn't figure out. "I don't know what you want me to say," Noctis replied, because he didn't. He saw no point in unearthing old arguments right now, and he wasn't sure what his friend was trying to get at.
"I'm fine," he continued, slightly defensive, but still calm. "I have Lu. That's more than enough." He'd died once, and almost died a second time. Being anything close to an uncle was far more than the Astrals had ever intended for him. This was probably blasphemy.
Gladio wasn't exactly easy himself. Stubborn to a fault, would rather do pretty much anything other than admit he was wrong. His expectations of himself and those close to him high - to an admittedly ridiculous degree. Expectations he didn't take well to not being met. But then the expectations that had been put on him from a young age had been nothing short of great. Expectations he had never resented. How could he when it had all brought him Noctis, and by extension Ignis and Prompto.
And when it came down to it and things that weren't easy about him, there was also the fact he pushed. As evident by the subtle changes in Noctis' demeanor. Pushed when maybe he should just back off.
"You don't have to say anything, Noct," he assured. If it would even be seen as such. Gladio looked down at Lucas. "I'm not -" he trailed off, not quite sure how to put what he was thinking. "I'm not looking for you to say anything, I just - I wanted you to know that I think you'd be good at it, that I think you deserve the chance to find out - even if you struggle with that idea." He would never deny Noctis what he felt, but Gladio knew how easy it was for your mind to be an enemy. How those self deprecating thoughts could take hold and drag you under. And he knew there were very real and legitimate reasons for Noctis' hesitations as well, ones he wouldn't deny either. But maybe here things could be different - Noctis was alive, no prophecy and the literal weight of the world on his shoulders.
He paused, debated if he should continue, knowing that what he really wanted to say might be so far over that line of too much. Lucas made a few noises and Gladio offered his pinky for distraction, a soft smile as Lucas immediately started to gnaw on it. Definitely teething.
"And when I say I've started to think about it again, I think about it with you," he got out, eyes glancing up to Noctis. "But that's not - something I'm expecting, Noct," he added. And he wasn't. He would never, especially knowing where Noctis' reservations laid. Hell, where his own laid. "It's just nice to think about you know? And maybe we just start with that whole own as many dogs as possible and maybe a cat or two too thing first and see where that takes us."
Noctis struggled not to shut down. It was a near thing, but he managed. His automatic instinct was to dissociate whenever something pushed at his boundaries, and Gladio was frequently pushing. Not that being challenged was always a bad thing. He wasn't sure what kind of person he'd be if Gladio didn't take the time to push like this, and quite frankly, he never wanted to find out. Noctis needed someone to challenge him or else he would get trapped in a self-destructive loop. Knowing that never made this any easier, though. Noctis tensed slightly, fingers curling against the leather ottoman. Fight or flight response. He pushed both aside, wanting neither.
"I appreciate the thought," he replied at length, the frown tugging at his mouth already suggesting he was going to refute Gladio. "But you know I can't be a father." And, again, Noctis didn't elaborate. He was reluctant to wade back into those waters after their last discussion, and more than that, he didn't want to argue in front of Lucas. Of course, there was the subconscious fear of becoming his father that lurked in the darkest depths of Noctis' mind, something he rarely acknowledged. Even to himself.
The brief stress that flared at Lucas' soft noise in distress disappeared instantly at I think about it with you. Noctis drew in a sharp, surprised breath, gaze darting between the baby in Gladio's arms and his warm amber eyes. "You do?" He asked softly, the words tumbling out of him before he could shove that soft, vulnerable part of himself back down again.
Noctis shifted until he was leaning forward, arms resting on his legs. He listened when Gladio continued, struggling between yearning and grief. More than anything, he wanted to raise children with his friend. "I've been thinking about it, too," Noctis confessed to his shoes. He couldn't lie—not about this. But he shook his head a moment later, sighing heavily. "I'll do everything I can to support you, Glad. But I can't be a parent. It's not right, or fair." He felt like his heart was breaking again, but he knew this was the right decision. Dragging his friends into his vortex of a family curse had been one thing, but damning an innocent child, too? Noctis couldn't stomach the thought.
Gladio shifted where he sat with Lucas so that he could extend a hand across the space between him and Noctis. His hand laid gently over one of Noct's, gave a soft squeeze. Noctis' words, while heartbreaking, were not unexpected. And really, not that far off from his own thoughts when they did go there outside of the idea of a dream. Would it be fair to a child to be saddled with the issues he hadn't worked through, and maybe never would. And of course all of this just a moot point anyways with his current health problems. How could he really plan for a future when he wasn't even sure he had one.
"I'm sorry, Noct," he said softly. "And I get it, I really do," he offered, for what it was worth. Even down to the fear of turning into his father that like Noctis, he would be hard pressed to voice, Gladio got it. All that damage, all that history that laid between them battered and broken, ingrained in their very beings. Expectations and roles that Gladio could fully admit were better off dying along with them. It was naive, he knew it was, to not let the idea of it die though. To let himself fall into tangents that began with but what if…. What if here things could be different, what if here they could be different. What if the things that held them back weren't things to concern themselves with anymore. Dangerous thoughts.
"I -" he glanced down at their hands, lifted his gaze and smiled gently. "I think about a lot of things, Noct. I don't know what the future is going to hold for us, where we might end up, what our lives might look like years from now," he admitted. How could he after all. How could anyone. "But I know that my future, whatever it ends up being, however much of it I'm lucky enough to get, is with you," he added. That was the one certainty. Whether that was just them, a bunch of pets or maybe kids that elusive one day when things weren't as hard and weighted as they were right now - Gladio knew the one constant in all of that was Noctis. Whatever time they might be granted by being pulled out of their own world and into one they could both live in, he knew he wanted to spend it with Noctis.
That was the thing about Noctis' relationship with Gladio: space. They were always swinging between too much space and not enough, dissolving boundaries and pushing each other apart, and at least for Noctis, it always felt wrong whenever they weren't close. Like everything inside him could so easily devour Gladio if he didn't have an ironclad control over himself, or if he wasn't aware of the consequences giving in to that might yield. More than anything, Noctis wanted his friend to have an opportunity to make a life for himself that wasn't in some way revolving around him. Even if it felt like part of himself was being torn out, because Gladio was as much his right hand as the one he was literally missing.
Noctis watched as his friend reached out to squeeze his human hand, curling his fingers in return after a brief hesitation. Then he murmured something that sounded vaguely like, "It's okay," because it wasn't, but it had to be. It always had to be okay, and he knew Gladio understood that. Neither of them were made to question their purpose, nor the trials that came with it. They faced them, and they persevered, and they figured out a way to mend their broken bones along the way. It was like being trapped on that godsawful train speeding to Gralea—it was awful, and terrifying, but they couldn't get off at the next stop.
He wished he could look at Gladio's smile and allow himself to feel comforted, but he didn't. Noctis could only swallow the lump in his throat, eyes stinging, a vice-like grip squeezing his heart until all he could hear was it pounding in his ears. "How can you say all of that when I'm killing you?" This was about more than just his family's curse, or the dark magic he'd discovered sleeping inside him, or even the fact that Noctis was most assuredly dead, and could return to his grave at any moment. No, this was about Gladio's life being drained from him with each passing moment simply because his friend wasn't bonded to him anymore. How could he want to be anywhere near him? What right did Noctis have to his time, his patience, his affection, his love?
"You deserve—" A breath. "A damn future—" Another breath, shaky this time. "That doesn't involve me. I'm destroying you, Glad. I've always been a—a fucking parasite. I want you to have everything. Do you get that? You have a shot here. A real one, and I'm messing it up. Just like I mess up everything else." Noctis took his hand back and stood, restless, limping slightly into the kitchen so he could sit down heavily on a stool and try to catch his breath. He hadn't raised his voice at all, which was a small blessing, but this wasn't how he'd hoped the night would go.
More space between them. Less chance to do something stupid and selfish. Noctis rubbed his face with both hands and sighed, exhausted by the emotional overload.
With Lucas in his arms Gladio could only stare helplessly as Noctis walked out of the room, heart aching for the words that had just been spoken. He glanced down at the child in his arms and took a gamble on the closed and eyes and breathing that had evened out somewhere along the line. Carefully Gladio stood and walked Lucas back to his crib. "Be cool, little man," Gladio whispered as he set Lucas back in the crib, baited breath as the baby squirmed for a moment and then settled.
The clear pain that had radiated off of Noctis lingered in Gladio as well as he made his way out of the room and into the kitchen. But then it had always been like that, hadn't it. Noctis' pain was his and vice versa. Pain, worry, the joy when things went right. Their lives so intrinsically linked for so many years now.
Gladio moved over to the stool that Noctis had sunk down onto. And in a move that completely destroyed Noctis' intentions for space, he rested his hands on the top of the stool so he could lean down a little and be at eye level with Noctis. "You are not a parasite, and you're not destroying me," he started, his words pointed and betraying the anger that seeped in at the very idea. Not at Noctis, never at Noctis, but at life and the very gods themselves that had so completely failed Noctis he could even think such a terrible thing about himself. This was past self doubt, past even self loathing. And it absolutely killed him that Noctis thought this way about himself.
Gladio let out a slow breath. "You're right though. I have a shot here. For a life without all of - this -" he gestured between them, indicating the mess of history between them - duty and Kings and Shields and all that it entailed. He could very easily force Noctis' hand, press the issue of the bond and satisfy whatever quirk in his body that existed from generations of magic and walk away. But - Gladio curled a hand behind Noctis' neck, his gaze heated. "I don't want that. You want me to have everything, you want me to have a future? That is you, Noctis. You are everything, you are my future. And that is my choice. Mine. Not for duty, not because that's how it's supposed to be, but because I want it." It was a choice he hadn't been given before. And now that it was in front of him? It was still Noctis. It would always be Noctis.
"Noctis, look at me," and he waited. For Noct to truly do so. To take in the devotion that was written into his very skin. The things that were expected, the things that had been duty. The scar that ran down his cheek from taking that hit for Noctis all those years ago. And the things that had been more than that. The devotion that ran far beyond what a shield was supposed to give, the marks that had spoken to the dept of his feelings for Noctis long before he could. The ink visible on arms left bare by short sleeves - tradition yes, but to a degree no Amicitia had ever taken it. The scar across his forehead, the bit that was visible under the low cut neckline from where Gilgamesh had all but cut him in half. The trial he had never been expected to take but that he had regardless.
Noctis had been a duty, once. So long ago when Gladio had been young and stubborn and resentful. Before he had known the person under the trappings of their positions. And gods how everything had changed when Gladio had allowed himself to see Noctis and not just a prince. The proof written all over his body that from that moment Noctis had never been just a job, a duty.
"I love you, Noctis. I love you because you care so damn much about everyone and everything. I love you because you're smart, smart enough to see through my bullshit and you damn well call me on it. I love you because you're nerdy and it's fucking adorable, because you could, and have, spent literal hours talking to me about fish. I love you because you challenge me. Constantly. In everything. I love that thing your face does in the morning when I can't really tell if you're happy to see me or are plotting my murder for the fact you're awake or a bit of both. I love you because you almost burned the kitchen down twice this week and it's only Tuesday but you still keep trying to make me dinner. I love you for a million reasons that have a absolutely nothing to do who we were born to be and everything to do with who you are. Just you. Just Noctis. And I have loved you for all those reasons for a very, very long time." This wasn't about duty, about Kings and Shields and all that it entailed. This was about just them.
Noctis wasn't surprised when Gladio followed him, but something in his heart warmed to hear those familiar footsteps approach. He appreciated it more than he'd ever been able to say that his friend was always, always there for him, a steady presence he could count on no matter what. Part of Noctis worried he relied too much on Gladio, though, and his absence had thrown that fear into stark relief. He was sure, by now, that his friends had seen the way EDI treated him, how she filled that gaping void as best she could so that Noctis had some kind of anchor. Because without his friends, without Gladio, he was a ship without land, wandering aimlessly through the night, searching for a place to dock.
What surprised him was the hand on the stool and the sudden closeness, and Noctis drew in a sharp breath, leaning back a little if only to avoid knocking into Gladio when he glanced up again. He felt a lot of things, listening to his friend. A flash of stress at the anger in Gladio's tone, then guilt for that reaction. Noctis was tired, too, worn out from pushing this point neither of his friends seemed to understand, which was quickly replaced by devastation when Gladio did, in fact, seem to agree he had a shot at life if only it didn't include him. So Noctis looked away, struggling between what he wanted and what he knew was the right thing, jumping a little when he felt that warm touch against the back of his neck.
It was rare that he felt small around Gladio. His friend was taller, of course, and broader, but for all the teasing about Noctis' height that they often joked about together, he rarely felt that difference. Not unless Gladio touched him. And he felt it now, when his friend's hand covered the back of his whole neck, how he loomed over him even as he tried to level their line of sight. Oh, Noctis thought, forgetting how to breathe, his mouth dry. That impassioned speech didn't help, either. It gave him goosebumps, and he swallowed hard, trying desperately to keep himself together. "I'm afraid," Noctis confessed, quiet, the words warm in the small space between them. "I don't want to hurt you, but what if I do? What if I keep taking from you?" Gladio gave and he gave and he gave. Noctis had no right to claim more. He couldn't.
He grew quiet again when that request was made, and bit by bit, the icy terror in his heart began to ease a little. Noctis' gaze traced both scars, then the tattoo he could see peeking out from under Gladio's clothes. He noted the look softening his friend's whole face, a look he'd first noticed so many years ago when they were still children, dancing around each other in the training hall as often as they did outside it. Before he knew what he was doing, Noctis had reached up with a gentle hand to touch these signs, tracing each scar with a deep reverence and appreciation he couldn't form with words. Even the scar cutting across Gladio's chest, hidden by his clothes, was carefully acknowledged with a touch, and as he began speaking again, Noctis let his hand rest over Gladio's heart, feeling each word rumble all the way up his arm. More goosebumps. This was bad.
"You big softie," he accused, choked. There were tears, he knew, rolling freely down his cheeks. It was too much to hear all of this, and yet, he needed it—needed to know this was how Gladio felt, and that it was unchanging, despite everything. Just the thought of that made Noctis cry even more. More than anything, he wanted to kiss Gladio in that moment, and he barely managed not to. Anything he might say felt too cheap, caught and tangled up in his heart like a knotted fishing line, so thin and fragile. But he couldn't push Gladio into anything he wasn't ready for. Noctis refused. So he settled with leaning in to rest their foreheads together, exhaling a soft, shaky breath. "I love you, too," he murmured, voice husky. "I don't know if I'd be any of those things without you. You're everything to me, man. Everything." It wasn't enough, didn't encompass all the things he felt in that moment, but Gods, he would try.
"Only for you." Which was full out a lie, all things Gladio being soft considered. To an almost ridiculous degree really he was the complete opposite of what most people assumed of him. Around the right company at least. Noctis being high on that particular list.
It was hard - impossible - to really articulate it. The way their lives were so completely woven together, how they had been since before either of them could even remember. But it was so much more than just that. Somewhere Noctis had firmly gotten under Gladio's skin, in all the ways that every shield had instinctively known were wrong. Too much, too deep. There was, of course, always some level of love between a shield and his liege. There had to be. A reason beyond duty to lay their lives at someone else's feet. But there was always supposed to be some amount of distance there. Mixing that level of devotion with romantic love no doubt could be a recipe for disaster. But it felt anything but a disaster with Noctis this close, that hand pressing against his chest and their foreheads touching.
No, instead it felt so damn right that Gladio had trouble even remembering why he was holding back in the first place when every little touch Noctis had given had his heart racing, blood running warm and gods it would be so easy to close that little distance between them - to claim Noctis' lips with his own, to give in to the want that flared up. All encompassing and filling up all the empty parts of him so that when Noctis settled on everything there was a soft smile in agreeance.
His hand shifted a little so that he could brush his thumb over the tears on Nocts' cheek, fingers pressing lightly against where he knew the feather was inked into the back of Noct's neck. The skin of course didn't feel any different, the tattoo long healed, but somehow it still did all the same. He brushed his lips lightly against Noctis' forehead and then wrapped his arms around Noctis. Gladio ducked his head down into the crook of Noct's neck. "I'm afraid too," he admitted after a moment, voice quiet and half muffled. "I'm afraid I'll let you down," the again unspoken, but there in his tone. "I'm afraid of losing you."
There was a time, way back at the start of their acquaintance, when Noctis had made the same false judgments about Gladio that most people did. But then, they'd both misjudged each other, hadn't they? Iris might have helped encourage Noctis to look past his own misgivings, but it had been all the little moments that followed their encounter that truly changed his mind. Gladio adjusting their training regime the moment he discovered Noctis was disabled, Gladio wearing a glove to match the one Noctis had to wear for his chronic pain, Gladio reading about fishing simply because Noctis liked it—at every opportunity, his Shield seemed more interested in learning about the person he was charged to train, not the prince. It made Noctis feel seen and appreciated at a time when he felt anything but, and the more he learned about Gladio in turn, the more fond he became.
"Sure you are," he countered, voice full of warmth. It was easy falling into the familiar step of their teasing despite the complex emotions waging war inside him. It had always been easy, because as often as they used to fight, their love for each other burned far more brightly than anything else. That, Noctis liked to think, had nothing to do with the duty laid out before them, and everything to do with the fact that he would've fallen for Gladio no matter what families they were born to.
Perhaps all kings loved their shields, though. It felt inevitable. He wondered about that now, feeling the warmth of his friend's breath mingling with his own and the weight of that hand against his neck. Ardyn had seemed to spare Gladio, of all people, for no discernible reason. Was it because of the feelings that lingered for his own would-be Shield? That even after thousands of years, that link still existed between the two, tethering them to an unbreakable fate? It made his heart hurt to think about it. No, it made Noctis feel protective, and when Gladio curled around him, he hugged his friend back tightly, hand fisted into the back of his shirt with every ounce of strength he had, knowing Gladio would give back just as good as he got.
Those words rumbling into the crook of his neck made him shiver, ice taking root inside his heart despite the fire that bloomed across his skin. "Don't be afraid," Noctis murmured, and he rubbed a hand up and down along Gladio's spine, soothing. "You've never let me down. Not for a single second." It hurt more than anything to hear that from his friend, and he sucked in a small, sharp breath, holding on tighter. "It's okay now. You did what you had to and it's over. We'll work this bond crap out next, alright? One day at a time. Breathe, big guy. Breathe." He couldn't promise they wouldn't end up back home tomorrow, or that Ardyn wouldn't show up, or hell, that the Astrals might not decide to collect even here. But he could promise to do what he could to make things easier for Gladio now. He deserved a damn break, and Noctis was going to make sure he got it.
He nuzzled a gentle kiss to the side of his friend's head, no pressure for more, just a small gesture to show he was here. He was loved. It was an honor that Gladio allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of him. Noctis dragged a hand up to gently run through his thick, dark hair, murmuring more reassurances.
Gladio barely managed to hold in the huff of disagreement at Noctis' words. A war raging in his own mind as to the validity of it. Whether Noctis truly believed that, or it was just words to pacify the twisted mess of regret and guilt and pain that festered inside of Gladio at the way everything had gone down. Rotting him from the inside out. But he held it back, pushed himself past the initial reaction his own hang ups wanted him to fall prey to. Reminded himself that Noctis didn't lie. Not to him. Not about something like this. That's not who they were. They might hide and downplay, might put on a brave face when they were crumbling inside - fine and okay being uttered when they were anything but - but they didn't lie. There was a distinction there and it was once Gladio fought to hold onto.
You've never let me down.
Gladio let out a slow and shuddering breath as he tried to cling to those words. And it didn't matter if it didn't make it all okay right at that moment. That it didn't magically heal years of guilt and grief. How could it really. That would be a long time coming, if it ever happened. But it sparked enough of a fight in Gladio that he could push past the initial reaction. That one that was all the darker parts of his mind coming out to try to drag him under and for then, that was enough. His head was above those dark waters, the worst of it passed as they clung to each other and he was still standing.
An hour from then might be bad again. Or maybe it would be the next day, or next week. Gladio knew it would be a constant struggle. For the both of them. But maybe it wasn't about victories measured in leaps and bounds but the victories in these small little moments where for once you never let me down got through. If only for a while. A little inkling of a thought starting to take root. Maybe it wasn't about being good but just good enough. There was a squeeze of his arms around Noctis, a silent thank you.
He relaxed into Noctis' hold, those fingers threading through his hair more than comforting. "I bet you could do some badass braids now that it's a bit longer," he murmured quietly. Not necessarily a demand for Noctis to do so but more an invitation, permission almost. That it wouldn't be crossing any lines.
His thoughts drifted to that first afternoon he had parked himself between Noctis' knees. Fingers twisting his hair before they strayed. The flood of want that had hit him then, the same that hit him now as his thoughts idled on the memory. His arms tightened around Noctis and he nuzzled into the crook of his neck even more before he pulled back a little to look at Noctis. Gladio's hand moved to settle low on Noctis' hip as his gaze looked him over. The features he'd gotten used to, the years Noctis hadn't really lived still etched into his face regardless. The bits of Noctis at twenty that Gladio could still find underneath it. Prominent more in the certain set of his jaw, or the flash of indignation, or sometimes both, when they inevitably disagreed on something. Noctis had been strikingly beautiful at twenty, just as he was at thirty.
His other hand lifted, pads of his fingers drawing across the line of Noctis' cheekbone. He felt heavy with the weight of their conversation but lighter somehow than he had in weeks. What are you waiting for he couldn't help but think, gaze softening as he continued to look at Noctis. And his body moved before his mind really caught up, hand slipping back behind Noctis' neck as he leaned in. Without hesitation even as his mind did catch up in that split second - stilling only when a sharp cry rang from the hallway.
Gladio's head dropped to Noctis' shoulder, his hand to the other and he huffed a small laugh. Of course. "I'll uh - go get him," he said, voice a bit rough and reluctantly pulled away to head down the hall.
"What happened to being cool," he asked rhetorically as he picked Lucas back up, though his voice was light and soothing and anything but really put out by it. "Let's go see Uncle Noct, how 'bout that," he continued as he walked back into the kitchen, Lucas draped over his shoulder.
Feeling that breath shudder out of Gladio made Noctis exhale, too, if a bit more softly. It didn't fix everything, not by a longshot, but at least it meant his friend had accepted his words for the moment. That was enough for Noctis, who was so relieved he almost felt exhausted. Not that he would ever regret having these difficult conversations. They both needed to hear where they were at so they could navigate the complex minefield that was their friendship right now. It could just be a little ... well. A lot to handle sometimes. Still, Noctis held on, tightening his embrace just a fraction to remind Gladio he was very much present and on his side. He'd felt that way for a very long time, something that never wavered. Sure, there had been a few times when he'd been afraid their friendship wouldn't recover—that it had become too strained, or too much. But in all those instances, it had been his intrusive thoughts sowing the seeds of doubt. They were their own worst enemies. Always had been. But maybe, together, they could finally learn how to heal some of that.
"That a hint, big guy?" Noctis countered, the amusement and fondness clear in his voice. Playing with Gladio's hair a bit, his thoughts followed a similar path, musing on that lazy afternoon when it had been just the two of them hanging out. Part of him ached for that closeness where almost every boundary between them had dissolved. You might not get that again, he thought, and a heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach. Noctis felt guilty for it, even as the sadness washed over him in a wave. He could mourn that. So long as Gladio was and alive and healing, he would be fine if they maintained a moderate distance. That's what he told himself, at least.
The nuzzling against his bare neck made Noctis' breath catch, and he had to bite his lip hard to keep from making another noise. Maybe Gladio hadn't realized what he was doing? But then his friend leaned back a little, and he was looking at him—really looking—and Noctis forgot how to breathe altogether. He couldn't begin to imagine what Gladio saw right then; whether it was the bags under his eyes or the more prominent worry lines.
He looked at Gladio, too, gaze drifting over all the features he recognized and the ones he didn't. Strangely, his friend didn't look older to him. Just ... tired, perhaps worn around the edges, but as regal as ever. If anything, Noctis had always thought Gladio was the one with the bearing fit for a king—not him. He was breathtaking, really. Unfairly so. Only now, years and years later, Noctis could actually admit he appreciated the view and didn't feel the traces of envy he'd imagined he did as an awkward, anxious late bloomer of a teenager.
The look in Gladio's eyes shifted. He could tell. "Hey, what—" But the words got caught in his throat when those fingers grazed his cheek. For the second time in only a few minutes, Noctis felt speechless. That was okay. His mind went offline when Gladio leaned in, and as if by a force beyond his control, he leaned forward to meet him, shivering a little at the feel of their breath mingling, his fingers tightening slightly in his friend's hair.
An awkward laugh left him at the sound of Lucas' cries. Of course. "Damn," Noctis muttered under his breath, waiting until Gladio left to drag a shaky hand through his hair. He pushed off of the stool and went to pour himself some water, drinking the whole thing in one gulp before pouring another glass. That was ... well. Not what he'd been expecting. At all. He supposed they wouldn't talk about it, which was fine. This was all on Gladio's terms, and although he was confused as hell, he'd hazard a guess that his friend was, too.
Don't think about how he almost kissed you, or how it would've felt, or what it would've tasted like, or— He ran a hand over his face and groaned softly. This was very bad.
Seeing Gladio return, he went with the first thing that popped into his head, and it wasn't any more helpful. "Want me to braid your hair now?" Lucas was grabbing at it, so there was some excuse for the idea. Maybe.
Gladio willed the blood rushing in his veins to slow as he moved back to Noctis, to cease the pounding in his ears and let out a few controlled breaths to slow the beating of his heart. All the while trying to put into order what exactly he felt about the fact they would have kissed had Lucas not interrupted. And while he half expected the idea to feel overwhelming somehow, pushing lines and boundaries he maybe wasn't ready to push at - it was more disappointment that nagged the hardest. He had wanted it. Even now as he saw Noctis in the kitchen, he wanted/ it - with barely any hint of the hesitation that had been holding him back.
Gladio swallowed hard as he turned to the fridge to take out one of the bottles Caroline had left for Lucas. Because while the near kiss, and what it would have been like had they not been interrupted was very much on his mind, Gladio knew with a fussy Lucas in hand the moment was more than lost. He set about warming up the milk and glanced back to Noctis at the question. "Yeah, sure - that'd be nice." Probably not the best thing to ease the tension that had settled in, but, well, the thought of Noctis' fingers working through his hair outweighed the concerns right then.
Bottle and Lucas in hand Gladio moved into the living room with Noctis. He carefully sunk to the floor and settled Lucas into the crook of his arm, offering the bottle. And if earlier had felt domestic this was beyond he couldn't help but muse as Noctis settled behind him. And something he could more than be happy having if life decided to be that kind to them.
Noctis wondered, briefly, whether they would ever actually manage to kiss each other after almost two years of what was basically courtship, or if they’d be trapped in this state of almost-kissing for eternity. It made him laugh a little bit to himself, butterflies in his stomach at the thought of how Gladio had looked right before leaning down to meet him. He hadn’t looked that intense in a while, at least not that Noctis could remember. The brightness of his eyes, the soft, parted lips—he’d looked like a man who wanted something, and Gods, every part of him wanted that, too. It was kind of comical that they still hadn’t quite gotten there. Maybe they never would, especially if Gladio still felt any hint of stress or doubt. Noctis would never want to make him feel uncomfortable.
He leaned against the counter and watched Gladio retrieve the bottle with a soft smile, feeling more content than he had earlier. The sight of his towering friend with a tiny child would always settle something tangled and stressed inside him, regardless of whatever was going on. It gave Noctis some hope that someday, maybe, they’d be able to settle down together. Even if the idea still seemed a bit impossible at the moment.
Following him back into the living room, Noctis settled behind Gladio and proceeded to braid his hair. No funny business, of course—he wasn’t cruel. Just a gentle plaiting of hair, one strand after another, settling into the motion of it as if they’d been doing this for far longer than just a handful of months. Noctis even began humming a little, soft at first, and a bit off-key, but the same song his father used to hum to him when he’d woken half the Citadel with his night terrors as a child. It always soothed him then. He hoped it would soothe the two people sitting close to him, now.