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They hole up in a crappy motel in one room with two beds and an equally crappy couch.
Prompto drags Noct into the bathroom, the prince stumbling over wobbly legs, and helps him clean off the blood and dirt and vomit. Noct leans heavily against him in the shower, ignoring Prom’s attempts to get him to sit down on the edge. Neither of them are embarrassed by their nakedness, all four of them losing some of their boundaries not long after Insomnia’s fall.
He doesn’t make any jokes about Noct’s inability to keep himself stable. Not after their disastrous hunt that ended with a hundleg poisoning Noctis within an inch of his life. It’d been touch and go there on the battle field and in the Regalia. Prom’s sure that he lost ten years off his life during the whole thing.
But here Noct is, shivering against him despite the hot water beating down on his back and pale as a corpse. But alive. And going to stay alive too. Thank the Astrals. Or, really, thank Ignis, he’s the one who had the Antidote that made the poison only a little poisonous instead of deadly.
“’m tired,” Noct mumbles into his shoulder, hair wet and curling along his jaw.
Prompto presses his cheek against his temple. “I know, buddy. Almost done.”
“’kay.” And he sags heavier.
He grunts at the extra weight, nearly slipping. Prom quickly finishes cleaning them both up and helps Noct out of the shower. Sweatpants and his favorite sweater go on Noct, sweatpants and a tank top for Prom. They stagger out of the bathroom, steam billowing behind them. Ignis helps on Noct’s other side, laying him out on one of the beds.
“How are you feeling, Noct?” Ignis asks, brushing away his bangs and laying a bare hand on his forehead. He’s warm to the touch, sweating and pale, but no longer on the cusp of dying horribly.
Noct groans, curling up on his side. “Awful,” he answers, words slurred.
“I imagine,” Ignis says drily. He sits on the edge of the bed. “I meant, are you in any pain or are you just nauseous?”
“’m tired,” he repeats. “Sicky. No pain.”
Ignis pushes his hair back one more time, nodding. “All right. Get some sleep. Tell us if you start to feel any pain.” Noct hums in response, snuggles into a pillow, and closes his eyes, going lax. Gladio huffs a laugh from where he’s lounging on the couch. Ignis sits back, pushing up his glasses. “That was a close call.”
“Too close,” Gladio agrees. When Noct has stumbled up to them after the last hundleg had been killed, Gladio thought of stasis before anything else. Once he threw up on Ignis’ boots and fell to the ground, the vomit tinged red, they jumped into action. It’d been a single, heart-stopping moment of fear. “Go take a shower, I’ll keep an eye on him.”
With Ignis in the bathroom, Prompto out for food under the floodlights, Gladio changes into sleepwear and takes out his book he only pays sparse attention to on the couch. He’s read this one before, the con side to only bringing a couple books on this trip. To be fair, he expected it to last only a few weeks originally. At least this means he can keep an eye on Noct without losing his place.
Noct’s sleep is fitful. His expression scrunches, his lips turned down, he clings to the pillow like it’s a lifeline. Gladio itches to go over there and comfort him, but in moment like these, Noct had a tendency to come up swinging. He never hurts Gladio, there’s no force in the wild hits and Gladio’s made of sterner stuff. It doesn’t stop the guilt, though, and he’s given Prompto a few bruises here and there. Which doesn’t help that damn guilt.
He puts his book away. It’s just not doing anything for him right now. Noct jerks awake with a gasp, staring at nothing as he all but hyperventilates. He groans, rolling on his back. Gladio watches him warily for a negative reaction and jumps to his feet when Noct shoves himself into a sitting position.
“Hey, no, lay back down.”
Noct looks at him, dazed and faraway. “’m cold,” he says.
Well, he is sleeping on top of the covers. They probably should’ve pulled them up sooner.
“Lay back down,” Gladio urges. “I can fix that.”
He shakes his head. “’m cold,” he insists.
Gladio drags a hand down his face, groaning. Out-of-it Noct is not a fun Noct. It’d be great, honestly, if they weren’t caused by shitty circumstances. He turns compliant and child-like, sometimes he sprouts out the most hilarious things. The only out-of-it Noct that’s a good one is when he’s drunk, but he’s one of the few people Gladio’s met who’d rather not drink.
It takes a second, staring at his shivering prince, for it to click. And he can’t believe it’s taken him this long.
“You’re the worse,” he says with no bite. Noct actually cracks a smile. It tears at his dry lips, making him wince.
Gladio shoves up on Noctis’ legs to pull the comforter from under him and climbs onto the bed. Noct immediately turn on his side, pressing his face against Gladio’s chest, hand tucked between them. Gladio slides his arm under his friend’s head, pulls the covers up to the shoulders, and tangles their legs together. His shivers cease easily enough, though he’s overly warm on Gladio’s skin.
He shoves his nose into Noct’s hair, breathing in cheap motel soap. Noct sighs happily, relaxing into sleep again. Ignis comes out of the bathroom, pauses when he sees them cuddling, and grins, earning an eyeroll from Gladio.
“Is he doing all right?” he asks.
He nods. “Yeah, just got cold.” He pulls Noct a little closer.
Ignis pulls some day clothes. “I’ll go see what’s taking Prompto so long. Call if you need me.”
“Of course.”
Neither of them last for their return. Ignis and Prompto come back with food to Gladio snoring softly and Noct still with a fever, but no longer shivering uncontrollably.