Chapter Text
Gladio didn't really miss the old world that much. The big stuff -- Noctis, the sun, being able to sleep with both eyes closed -- he had all that now. The big stuff he can't have back -- his father, his childhood home, his youth -- that's just life. The stuff that Prompto and Noctis were always whining about didn’t matter that much to him; he had never really used this phone for anything more than texting anyway, didn't really care about video games and considered the silence once filled by the endless advertisements of modern life in Insomnia a blessing that was almost -- ok, not even close to worth it, but he was pretty happy about it.
Maybe he missed his love of camping -- he had, in retrospect, been one of those guys who was a little too enthusiastic about the way that “roughing it” put hair on your chest -- but after essentially camping for ten years he was pretty content to stay inside for a while. Likewise with Cup Noodle, which was Noct's suggestion the first time they played Talk About What You Miss But Only If It's Not Too Sad (thanks Prompto); he never thought he'd get sick of it but when it's the only thing you eat for days and days because it never goes bad and you've got nothing else, the charm starts to wear off. The only reason it was possible for anyone to miss it now was because they had actually eaten the entire stock.
It was just a typical Saturday afternoon when it occurred to him suddenly that he did have a piece of modern life he missed. Gladio was lying on the couch, barely reading, feet on Iggy's lap to keep him from trying to get up and do stuff, though it did not prevent him from reading some reports. It was a compromise. Noct, who did care about video games, was on the floor playing some sort of ugly, cryptic RPG he had found in a closet with a console from several generations back. Prompto was next to him, but close enough to the couch that Gladio kept trying to use his head as an elbow rest. It worked when Prompto was absorbed enough in the game not to notice for a while. They both looked so young like that, it was no wonder it made him reflective. Plus he’d read this novel maybe three times now and it was really not doing it for him anymore.
"Books." Gladio said. They were always half-playing Talk About What You Miss so he didn’t think he needed an introduction.
"You miss books?" Prompto asked, pushing his arm off again.
"Have my eyes really degenerated that much? I was sure that's what you were holding in your hand." Ignis said, not looking up from his papers.
"New books." Gladio clarified.
"You've read everything in the library then?"
Gladio nudged his papers a little, just to be a nuisance. Ignis just looked pleased with himself.
"You know what I mean."
"I'm afraid I don't, Gladio, since you refuse to use more than two words to describe it."
Gladio put his open book on his face while he thought about what he was trying to say. "There are plenty of classics I could read, sure, but most of the contemporary writers I liked are dead. Fabula Auctor is still around but I don't think she's going to finish her series. I miss getting excited about new books coming out. No one wants to write fun stuff anymore.”
"I mean, I can't blame them -- " He added, when he realized what he had said.
"These things go in cycles." Ignis gave one of his feet a pat. "We were in a boom of escapism after the last war, it makes sense we’d have swung back to realism, especially since we’re at peace. We’ll swing back the other way in due time."
"Yeah."
Prompto scooted closer to the couch, pulling Gladio's arm down around him. "Why don't you write something?"
"What?"
"Hey, Prompto," Noct interrupted, which Gladio would have called him out for in absolutely any other situation. "How do I kill this thing?"
"Uh, I don't know, dude, I never got this far."
"Ugh."
Gladio lifted his book and squinted at the tv. "What’s it supposed to be?"
"A giant octopus, I think."
Gladio made a dismissive noise. "Well, how would you kill a giant octopus in real life?"
"I don't know, the Tell Your Shield To Go Hit It With His Sword button isn't working."
"I would suggest a lightning attack, if you have one." Ignis said.
"Ah, cool, the Ask Your Iggy For Advice button does work." Noct said, flashing Gladio a triumphant grin.
"Shouldn't have told him." Gladio nudged Ignis' stomach with his toe.
Ignis looked up at him with a patient smile. "In real life, he has us." And, well, that was debatable, since what happens when he doesn’t but he appreciated the sentiment and let it go. Compromise.
"Anyway!" Prompto squirmed under his arm and Gladio sighed. "Why don't you write something?"
"Like what?" The last time Gladio had written anything longer than an email was in high school, which was -- shit -- over fifteen years ago.
"Write about us!"
"If I’m writing something, it’s gonna be like what I read, like romance or fantasy."
"I don't know, our shit is pretty fanciful." Noct said, apparently paying attention after all. "Remember the part where we killed a literal god?"
“I’m not writing about us.” Gladio said, trying to figure out why this was still happening.
“Why not? There’s so much stuff you could do, it’s like a whole series!” Prompto continued, tilting his head back so it was resting on the couch. “Book 1: The Roadtrip of Destiny, Book 2: The Nightmare in Altissa, Book 3: The Long Night.” He frowned. “No, skip that, it isn’t fun. Book 3: uh… Big Trouble in the Crown City? Return of the -- no. Oh! Insomnia: The Final Boss Fight!”
“That last one’s real bad, Prompto.”
“I like it.” Noct said, and Prompto beamed.
“Or you could just skip all that and just write about how we got together and got married.”
“Perhaps that’s not appropriate for a memoir.” Ignis said.
"Why not?" Gladio asked, surprising himself. Ignis looked up at him with a blink.
"Well," he started, eyes darting away briefly as Noct reached back and stole Prompto to look at something in his game. "It's private, don't you think?"
"I'm not going to write detailed descriptions of all our blowjobs."
“No, you should definitely write detailed descriptions of all our blowjobs,” said Noct.
“The people need to know!” Prompto agreed, giggling.
"I thought you weren't going to write anything at all." Ignis continued to Gladio, refusing to be derailed.
Gladio ignored that. "I just mean it's important."
"Fine, but I'm not sure I'd say the story of Noct fulfilling his destiny is a romance ."
But it was, Gladio realized suddenly. Ignis read his expression and gave him an amused look. "Well, it's up to you, I suppose, if you're writing it."
"I'm not writing anything." Gladio said, putting the book back down over his face like he was preparing for a nap. Ignis returned to his reading, but slid his free hand into one of Gladio's pant legs and began to rub his ankle. That, coupled with the soothing and familiar sounds of Noct and Prompto talking about nerd shit really should have been enough to put him to sleep. Instead, he found himself thinking that maybe Prompto was right: the people did need to know. Not about the blowjobs but about them and how they’d gotten here. When you’ve got three husbands you learn to love sharing and being able to share this -- the hard-won peace and joy -- seemed important.
Not that he was going to write it, of course. Just, you know, brainstorm a little.