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“No, Iggy, you can't.”
“I can and I will.”
Gladio stares, unable to think of a response to that. Ignis is surely the only person on the planet who can have only one eye (which doesn't work) and still pull off a glare that could strip paint. He studies the man sitting across from him, arms folded, lips pursed in a thin line. He sighs, unwilling to disguise his exasperation.
“How about if I said I won't let you do it?”
The glare is swapped out for an arched eyebrow. Ignis feels for his coffee cup and takes a slow, considered sip, before placing it back on the table.
“You're aware that I'm a grown man, Gladio.”
“Intimately.”
This raises a quick, knowing smile.
“In which case then, you'll be aware that I don't actually require your permission.”
Gladio sighs and scrubs his eyes wearily.
“Okay, how about if I said I don't want you to do it?”
Ignis’s displeased expression finally softens to something warmer.
“But I do. It's not like I've not done it before.”
“But… but that was when…” he starts, even though his response is painfully predictable.
“I've done far more difficult things since I lost my sight, Gladio,” Ignis says softly.
He has. Like helping Noct get back into Insomnia so he could save the goddamned world. Gladio turns and it's like the noise of the crowds and the music all become relevant again. Lestallum is bustling with the Assassin’s Festival. Five years after the end of the Starscourge, the city has started up the popular annual event again. The three of them have come, as a way to remember Noct, who loved it so much.
“I believe you should be more concerned about Prompto doing the Leap of Faith,” Ignis says, breaking into his thoughts. “As I've just said, I've already done The Crossing, so it's not new for me.”
Gladio sighs again.
“You know it's gonna kill me to watch.”
Ignis smiles, recognising Gladio’s assent.
“I know.”
OoOoO
Word travels fast.
Somehow, the news that a blind man intends to attempt The Crossing has become the talk of Lestallum, so by the time they're heading down there, the crowds have swelled. They're wearing their medjay robes, Ignis forgoing his cane for a light touch on Gladio’s arm as they negotiate the busy streets.
“What the hell…?” Gladio mutters as they reach the square and find the route completely blocked with people. Normally, the bulk of the festival goers can be found watching the infamous Leap of Faith, but it seems everyone is here.
“What is it?” Ignis asks, but before he can answer, there's a cheer and a round of spontaneous applause breaks out as they're spotted.
“They're here to watch you,” he says at Ignis’s ear. He's trying to keep his voice neutral even though he can feel his anger mounting that people are here for the prospect of drama. Ignis pats his arm, his sharp ears picking up on that poorly-concealed irritation.
“Gladio. I'm fully aware of why my doing The Crossing would be of interest to some people, and I can assure you I have no intention of providing them with the entertainment they seek.”
“Good fuckin’ job,” he replies, glaring at anyone they pass who looks like they might have come with that reason in mind.
“Please don't hit anyone,” Ignis says in that maddeningly reasonable voice.
“I'm makin’ no promises.”
Grudgingly, he hands Ignis over to one of the event organisers, but not before he takes Ignis's beautiful face in both hands and kisses it soundly.
“See you on the other side,” Ignis says with a wry smile, before he disappears inside the building to head on up to the roof.
OoOoO
He's still grumbling to himself when Prompto approaches, head craned upward to watch the proceedings. A man is currently on the wooden beam, inching his way back to safety having quickly lost his nerve.
“Hey, big guy,” Prompto says with a grin. “When's he up?”
“Soon.”
He tears his own eyes away to study Prompto for a moment. The other man is still buzzing from completing his Leap of Faith earlier on, but he'll still be able to tell if Prompto thinks this is a mistake.
“Fuck, d'you think I should have stopped him?”
“Didn't you already try that?”
“Well, yeah, but still…”
“Gladio,” Prompto says, hooking his arm around his shoulder as best he can given the height difference. He's doing that reasonable voice like he's been having lessons off of Ignis. “He's a grown man.”
Great. Now he really does sound like Ignis.
“He's also a blind one,” he counters helplessly. “And someone I don’t wanna see fall to his death for something so utterly pointless.”
“Hey,” Prompto says gently, “He told me he wanted to do it for Noct, since he did it in secret the first time we came here and Noct was really disappointed that he never got to see it for himself. You know him, Gladio; he wouldn't do it unless he was totally sure.”
“Yeah, I know,” he replies. Ignis has never been one to take stupid risks, he knows that.
It still doesn't stop him from trying to work out if it's possible to catch a six foot tall, slim, but well-muscled adult male falling from four floors up.
OoOoO
Twenty minutes later, it's all over. He watches, heart swelling with pride, as Ignis crosses the narrow beam to the other rooftop, bare feet curled around the wood, gripping it tightly. Arms outstretched, back ramrod straight, Ignis possesses the grace of a dancer, and the poise of a gymnast. There's not a single moment where he looks unsteady or hesitant.
The audience whoops with delight when Ignis reaches the other side. On the ground, and able to breathe at last, he's clapped on the back and congratulated by people who approach him in their droves. In that moment, he realises that he's had it all wrong - these people haven't come to see a blind man fall. They've come to see this blind man succeed because they know who he is, what he did for them. They know that the festival is happening again because of Ignis and Noct and Prompto and himself, and they're grateful and excited that they've been able to see this legendary man in action.
When Ignis emerges from the building on the opposite side of the street, people crowd around to congratulate him. They're respectful in their approaches and Ignis looks relaxed, so there's no need to go over and rescue him from their show of appreciation.
“You see?” Prompto grins. “Told you he could do it.”
“Yeah,” he responds softly, transfixed by the sight of Ignis in his robes as he shakes people’s hands, nodding and smiling in response to whatever it is they're saying, the setting sun reflecting off his visor as he moves. “Yeah, you did.”
When the crowds start to disperse, he makes his way over.
“Not bad for an old man,” he says gruffly as he approaches.
Ignis turns half a step and smiles, head cocked to one side.
“And yet, I'm still younger than you, Gladiolus.”
He laughs. “Oh yeah? Wanna show me what else you're good at?”
“Perhaps.”
That maddening smile again, but this time his pulse quickens at the promise it carries. Ignis holds out his hand and he takes it, locking their fingers together. They start to walk, back through the bustling streets, full of life and laughter. Later, they'll dine with Prompto and reminisce about Noct and how much he loved Assassin’s Creed, but for now, they'll head back to their suite at The Leville where he’s planning a show of appreciation all of his own.
End