Work Text:
Gladio’s away for most of the summer, for a work study thing that he regrets letting his dad talk him into. He comes home two weeks before the fall semester and barely has time to greet his family and drop his bags on his bedroom floor when his phone chimes.
Noct: hey u home yet
Gladio: just got in
Noct: great
Noct: come pick me up
Gladio groans. His bed, three feet away, has never looked more inviting.
Gladio: is it an emergency
Gladio: like a defcon 2 or higher
Noct: obviously or id just wait for iggy to get home
Which is how Gladio finds himself in front of Noct’s house ten minutes later, twilight creeping across the sky in sweeps of deep, vivid indigo and Noctis climbing into the passenger seat with the look of a man on a mission.
“Convenience store on Park Ave,” he says by way of greeting, texting someone rapidly. Then, “Oh yeah, welcome home.”
“I can tell you’re all choked up to see me.”
“We talked literally every day you were gone. You didn’t even try to make me miss you. Can you drive any faster?”
Gladio raises an eyebrow, rolling through a stop sign at an empty intersection. “Got a bee in your bonnet?”
“Some creep is bugging Prom at work,” Noctis says, frowning darkly.
Prom— Gladio knows that name, just from the staggering number of times it’s popped up in conversation the last couple months, peppered liberally throughout the group chat. He knows Prom as the kid who moved to town this summer and subsequently pulled Noctis into his orbit, even though Noct has literally never made such a fast friend before.
Interest piqued, Gladio bends the speed limit a little.
“What’s this about a creep?”
“It’s this guy that keeps showing up right at the end of his shift, and he seriously won’t take no for an answer. I told Prom to tell me if he showed up again.”
Gladio’s mouth firms into a pissed off line. He doesn’t mind being brought in as muscle for these moments. The thought of Iris or Noct in a similar situation is all it takes to make him fully invested for a stranger’s sake.
The convenience store is a bright beacon in the fading daylight, neon and welcoming at the corner of the street. Noctis is unbuckling before the car comes to a complete stop, saying, “There he is— that idiot, I told him not to walk home—“
A slight blond figure in the distinct employee polo and a pair of faded jeans is making tracks away from the store. Behind him is a grown ass man, leering after him, and Gladio catches the man’s eye— unfolds himself from the drivers seat in a way that menaces.
The man ducks back inside the relative safety of the store. Gladio turns to Noct and says, “stay in the car, don’t touch my stuff,” receives an eye roll in response, and heads after Prompto. He wants to make sure the guy’s alright, and he also knows there’s no way Noct is letting him leave without Blondie in tow, so he jogs to catch up and reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, saying “Hey—“
And the next thing he’s aware of is a pair of snapping blue eyes, a pale face drawn into a snarl, and a fist flying for his nose.
“I said back off!”
Gladio is too surprised to do anything but get punched in the face. The force of it staggers him, and he loses his footing, and it almost feels like there should be a resounding thud when he hits the ground but the sidewalk soaks up the impact without a sound.
Neither of them speak. Gladio’s nose is almost definitely broken.
“Oh my god,” Prompto blurts, high-pitched and frantic, “oh my god I’m so fucking sorry. Are you okay?”
His stricken expression is an abrupt turnaround. He’s hovering anxiously, unsure where to put his hands, biting his lip as he kneels next to where Gladio’s sprawled on the ground— it’s adorable.
Gladio ignores the blood dripping down his chin to ask, “Are you single?” because it seems like the most pressing question of his life at the moment.
Prompto draws up short and stares at him.
Somewhere behind them, Noctis is laughing so hard he’s crying.
“It’s not funny, Noct, I think I gave him a concussion!”
“Dude, your dad is gonna be so proud.”
“This isn’t how I wanted to meet your friends!”
Gladio likes to think he and Noct are pretty close, by sheer virtue of extended proximity if nothing else. Their dads have been friends for as long as Gladio’s been alive, they’ve spent every holiday and summer vacation together ever— the only person who could know Noct any better is Ignis, and coming in second to Ignis is as good as coming in first.
So Gladio thinks he’s justified in this feeling of complete betrayal.
“How are you not gonna give me his phone number? Seriously?”
Noct rolls his eyes. “So you can scare him off? No thanks.”
Ignis steps over Noct’s legs where they’re propped up on the coffee table and sits beside him on the sofa. He seems mildly interested in their conversation, for all that he doesn’t really look up from his phone.
“What has Gladio done now?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Prom kicked his ass and Gladio tried to ask him out,” says Noctis dryly.
The corners of Ignis’ mouth twitch. His green eyes are unmistakably amused as he finally glances Gladio’s way. Noct’s cousin is a full year younger than Gladio, but always so cool and composed that he sometimes makes Gladio feel like a clumsy child in comparison.
“He’s like as tall as my shoulder and he laid me flat,” Gladio says, feeling like he should at least try to defend himself here. Sure, half of it may have been the element of surprise, but that’s still a lot of punch in a small package, and Gladio’s impressed.
And where he’s impressed, he tends to get interested.
“Did he? What did his father say?” Ignis asks, and Noct grins.
“God, I wish I knew. Prom won’t tell me. He probably got him a puppy or something.”
Ignis makes a quiet sound that’s almost a chuckle by normal people standards, and Gladio is hit by the sudden understanding that Ignis knows Prompto, too. Not only that, but he’s fond of him. Probably definitely has Blondie’s number. Son of a bitch.
“You’re gonna hold out on me too?” he demands. Ignis returns to his phone with the barest smirk, which is answer enough. “I don’t even know you guys anymore.”
“Then we won’t see you at family dinner tomorrow?” Noctis asks with such feigned disinterest that Gladio is immediately suspicious.
“What’s happening at family dinner?”
“Clarus and Regis have invited an old friend to dine with us. He’s been living overseas for some time, and only moved back home recently,” Ignis says.
Gladio blinks, trying to think of old friends of his dad. It takes a minute, but then he’s sitting upright sharply, saying, “Uncle Cor?”
Noctis grins at him, and Ignis smiles.
“You better be there,” Noctis says. “You won’t wanna miss it.”
Gladio rolls his eyes, and makes a mental note to ply his dad for more information when he gets home. Spends the rest of the night at Noct’s watching shitty action movies, eating the restaurant quality stir fry Ignis made, and thinking of Prompto’s deceptively delicate hands wrapped around his to pull him back up to his feet.
Cor Leonis looks like he’s very barely not smiling when he gets a good look at the bruise on Gladio’s face.
“That’s my boy,” he says, straight-faced. Prompto buries his red face in his hands.
“It makes sense that any kids of yours would be as vicious as you were at their age,” Clarus says dryly as he draws Cor into an embrace. “Make the introductions to Gladio, please. He’s the only one who’s yet to meet them.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Regis puts in, as mild as milk. “He’s certainly met Prompto.” Prompto makes a sound like he’s dying, and from across the room Noctis snorts into his cup.
“Kids,” Cor says without turning around or raising his voice. Two people around Gladio’s age slink over from the kitchen, standing on Prompto’s either side. The three of them are fair-haired and pale compared to Cor’s dark complexion. “Loqi and Aranea. Prompto you know. I adopted them eight years ago during my tour overseas.”
Prompto’s older siblings are looking at Gladio the way he thinks a pair of hawks might look at a stupid rabbit. Suddenly his friends’ earlier glee about tonight makes a lot more sense.
“Good luck,” Noct mouths at him, the smug little asshole.
Aranea smiles, and as much as it’s not a nice smile it’s not a mean one either. It reminds Gladio of Ignis, actually, and he feels a spike of real fear at the idea there might be two of them.
“Nice left hook, Prom,” Aranea says.
“Please stop,” Prompto begs.
“It’s not that I’m happy to see you get hurt,” Cor tells Gladio later. “It’s that Prom has a bad habit of taking a lot of bad things in stride. I’m just glad he can stick up for himself if the situation calls for it. He’s sorry about your face, though.”
“Hey, I can take a punch,” Gladio says, grinning. “I can take a lot of punches. I should spar with him sometime, see what else he’s got. Hey, uh, does he work out?”
“I’m not having this conversation anymore,” his uncle says and walks away.
Gladio manages to catch Prompto alone sometime between dessert and cocktails.
“I’m really, really not pissed at you about punching me,” Gladio cuts to the chase, because what he wants involves a lot of being able to look at Prompto without Prompto shriveling in shame. “I’m the opposite of pissed at you.”
“But you were just trying to help,” Prompto says, “and I— and everyone thinks it’s funny, but I really am sorry, I shouldn’t have— “
“Then make it up to me,” Gladio blurts.
Prompto blinks at him, taken aback.
“I’m not worried about it,” Gladio says, “but if you are, then make it up to me.”
There’s a moment of quiet— their family talking and laughing loudly in the next room, Gladio and Prompto alone in the hall and standing an unremarkable distance apart.
From this close, Gladio notices Prompto’s freckles for the first time.
There’s a faded scar slashed across the bridge of his nose, and another on his arm, peeking from around the edge of a woven bracelet. He wrings his hands when he’s nervous. His eyes are closer to violet than blue in the right light. He’s as expressive as an open book, and something in Gladio’s chest goes soft.
Prompto licks his lips and says, very carefully, “What did you have in mind?”
“A date,” Gladio says before he can lose his nerve. “If you’re not seeing anyone—“
“What— you were serious?”
“Hell yeah I was serious. You know how many cute little blonds have ever knocked me on my ass? You made an impression, Prom.”
Prompto laughs like it was surprised out of him.
He looks torn somewhere between hope and disbelief. It works itself out in the form of a crooked smile, tentative and reaching.
He says, “Okay,” and somehow it’s the most daring thing Gladio has ever seen.
Two weeks and five official dates later, Gladio has a mental list of Nice Things About Prompto that just keeps fucking growing. Every time Gladio sees him, he sees something good.
The lines of his body when they work out together, taut and hardened and strong. The particular way he holds his camera when there’s something he’s dying to shoot. The melting look on his face when birds do something cute. The countless patient hours he spends explaining Iris’ biochem homework. The smiles he saves for his larger-than-life siblings. The way he still goes pink when Gladio touches him, still leans into each kiss.
“That’s so obviously a boyfriend shirt,” Noct says in lieu of a hello when Prompto lets himself into Noct’s house, on a day none of the four of them have work or class and so they automatically gravitated together. “Gladio has like four sizes on you, who are you trying to fool?”
“Who says I’m trying to fool anyone?” Prompto replies sweetly, and Gladio grins.
Prompto greets Ignis with a hug that Ignis returns warmly, and Noctis with a noisy kiss on the top of his head that Noctis pretends to suffer through, and crosses the room to Gladio last, because once Gladio gets ahold of him he doesn’t quite let go.