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It’s not that the hunts they take up are easy (okay, well, sometimes they are, but Gladio doesn’t like when they say so, since anything can happen in the midst of battle, and thinking things are easy makes you too cocky and sets you up for failure) but they’ve fallen into a sort of groove after spending a few weeks out on the road. They know how to fight, and more importantly, know how to fight alongside one another. Completing hunt after hunt after hunt has them all in a certain mindset, knowing the gist of what to expect and always ready for the next fight.
Things get a bit harder whenever a whole squadron of MTs decide to join the mix, because then Prompto has to focus on not getting trampled by a garula and not getting pelted with a barrage of bullets. Since he’s a ranged fighter, he typically flits on the edge of the battle, taking out anything in the others’ blind spots or on its last legs. MTs are always hard, because they’re ranged fighters, too, and most of the time it’s simply a race to shoot them before they can shoot someone else.
So when the armored soldiers drop down onto the battlefield, Prompto focuses more of his attention on them, not the garulas. Gladio and Ignis have been pushed further away with all the fighting, though not far enough where Prompto can’t have an eye on them should they need any help, but Noct’s still close by. There aren’t many garulas left, either, so Prompto figures Noct would be okay in handling them on his own, at least for a moment, just long enough for him to worry about the MTs.
And that plan works okay, at first. Prompto takes cover behind a boulder and starts picking off the riflemen. Practically the whole squad has their attention on him, and retaliating bullets ricochet off the stone. The axemen are starting to make their way over, so Prompto will have to either take out the remaining riflemen before they reach him, or risk moving cover and exposing himself to their bullets.
While he’s reloading, he glances over to see how Noct’s fairing, only to see the exact moment where Noct warps wrong, trying to get away from one garula only to land straight into the path of another one. The impact sends him flying with a pained cry, rolling a few feet in the dirt before coming to a stop, vulnerable and exposed. Prompto’s feet are moving before he even registers it, making a beeline towards Noct’s crumpled form, all the while providing covering fire towards the line of MTs.
He’s halfway there when his shoulder starts stinging, and then his side, and his foot catches on something. He manages to roll into his tumble, back on his feet immediately and calling, “Noct!” as he skids to his knees beside his boyfriend.
Noct’s eyes are scrunched up in pain, and he’s breathing funny like he can’t quite catch his breath. Bullets are still raining down around them, the few remaining garulas are stamping their feet angrily, and the axemen are closing in. Prompto doesn’t have time to think - he just crushes a potion against Noct’s chest, then another for good measure. They’re his last two, so he can only hope it’s enough.
Relief melts onto Noct’s features and once he opens his eyes, Prompto quickly hauls him to his feet. “Thanks,” Noct calls, almost drowned out but the sounds of battle around them.
“Yeah!” Prompto yells back, and just like that, the exchange is over. Prompto picks off the rest of the riflemen, and then turns back to where Noct’s dealing with the garulas and axemen. Ignis and Gladio have steadily been making their way back towards them as they down one enemy at a time.
The near silence is almost deafening when the last MT falls in a heap of sparks and metal and miasma. Noct waves towards where Gladio and Ignis are standing, likely catching their breath as well, signaling to them that all is well on their end. Gladio waves one giant arm back, and Noct turns to Prompto, a tired grin on his face, only for it to drop almost immediately.
“Oh, shit,” Noct says, eyes wide, staring not at Prompto’s face but further down. Confused, Prompto follows his gaze. His side’s a mess of blood, ruining his shirt and on its way to ruining his pants as well. There’s blood leaking from his shoulder, too, sticky and warm and dripping down his arm. It makes his hands slippery and he can’t keep a hold of his gun. Or maybe that’s just the numbness he feels spreading through him, adrenaline fading away. Either way, the gun drops from his hand and disappears into the Armiger.
“Oh,” Prompto says, breathless, because he’s been shot. When he sags forward, Noct barely has enough time to catch him.
“Hey,” Noct says immediately, lowering the two of them to the ground. “Prompto, hey.” There’s an edge of panic to his voice. “Potions?” he asks, and Prompto shakes his head. Noct’s hands hover for a moment, unsure which wound to go to. Eventually he grabs Prompto’s own slick hands and presses them into his side. Prompto groans and tries to pull away, but Noct holds him steady. “You have to keep pressure on it so I can get the one on your shoulder,” he explains, then releases his grip when Prompto nods weakly.
Prompto lets out another moan of pain when Noct touches the wound on his shoulder, one hand underneath where the bullet hole actually is and the other on his front to add pressure. He somehow manages to do as he’s told, keeping his hands pressed tight against his side despite the pain and discomfort it’s causing. “It’s okay,” Noct’s saying, and Prompto desperately tries to focus on his voice to distract himself. “You’re gonna be fine, Gladio and Iggy’ll have some potions, okay? We’re gonna fix you up.” He swivels around as much as he can without moving his hands, and yells, “Gladio! Ignis!”
They’re already running over, likely have been since seeing Prompto hit the deck. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Noct asks, just to fill the silence with something other than Prompto’s pained, gasping breaths and his own panicky ones.
“Didn’ realize,” Prompto mumbles, voice just barely slurring with pain. It’s the truth - he doesn’t remember getting shot once, let alone twice. He tries to think back, past the pain, memories hazy with adrenaline. It must’ve happened when he’d left his cover to go help Noct, he thinks, because he vaguely remembers feeling something in his side and shoulder before he’d tripped. He’d been too preoccupied with getting to Noct at the time to worry about it.
Noct shakes his head, glances as the others close the distance, and Ignis calls, “What happened?”
“He- got shot,” Noct says, voice cracking, as they kneel down on their side of them.
“Let me see,” Ignis says, prying Prompto’s sticky hands away from his side. He probes around, murmuring an apology when Prompto whines in pain. “The bullet went through, so that’s good.”
“His shoulder, too,” Noct tells him, twisting Prompto around a little for them to see. “I don’t think this one went through.”
Ignis inspects the area and, sure enough, there’s an entry wound, but no exit. “We’ll need to get it out before we can give him any curatives,” he says, and all four of them wince at what’s to come.
They get into position: Prompto on his stomach with his head in Noct’s lap, Gladio leaning over him slightly to hold him in place, and Ignis near his shoulder. Noct’s already got a potion out, sitting in the dirt beside him, ready to use as soon as Ignis fishes the bullet out. Ignis hovers above his injury with a pair of tweezers, taken from the little med-kit they keep stocked for emergencies. As soon as they press into the wound, Prompto gasps loudly and starts to squirm, trying to pull away from the pain. Gladio and Noct hold him tight, the latter bending down to whisper encouragements in attempt to distract Prompto from what’s happening.
He’s crying by the end of it, involuntary tears trailing down his cheeks as he gasps for breath against Noct’s thigh. Ignis eventually holds the bullet up, makes sure it’s whole and more hasn’t broken off inside, and nods at Noct to use the potion. Prompto shudders as his wounds knit themselves back together, and Noct gives him another when one doesn’t seem to do the trick.
They roll him over and sit him up, propped against Noct’s chest, and let him breathe it out for a few minutes. “Sorry,” he says eventually, voice a little hoarse.
Ignis pulls out a handkerchief from somewhere, and Gladio has the cleanest hands, so he takes it and reaches over to gently rub at Prompto’s eyes with it. He hands it back to Ignis and stands, offering two hands, one for Prompto and one for Noct. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, and pulls them to their feet.
Prompto sways a little, and Ignis supports him before he can go down. “I’m good,” Prompto says, because he is, just a little sore and woozy from the blood loss, but he could keep going. They need him to. He's pushed through much worse.
But Ignis says, “There’s a haven about a twenty minute walk from here, do you think you can handle it?”
His legs still feel a little wobbly, but Prompto can manage, because Gladio looks about five seconds from scooping him into his arms. So he says, “I got this!”
Except he takes one step away from Ignis and his knees almost buckle, so Noct simply slings one of Prompto’s arms over his shoulders and carefully loops one his own around the blond’s waist, not gripping too hard at the still tender area of his side. Prompto doesn’t protest.
They keep him confined to one of the chairs while the set up camp, no matter how many times he insists he can help. As soon as the tent is up, Noct’s ushering him inside to clean up and change into new clothes and get settled into his sleeping bag. Prompto’s pretty drowsy, so he doesn’t object, just lets himself drift off as Noct lays down next to him, runs his fingers through his hair, and presses a kiss to his forehead.
It’s marginally darker when Prompto wakes up next, late afternoon sunlight filtering through the partially open flap of the tent. Noct’s still laying beside him, arm carefully thrown around his stomach. “Hey,” he says when Prompto meets his eyes. “How’re you feeling?”
Prompto yawns, stretches as much as he can without pulling too much on his side or shoulder. They’re still a little sore and stuff, but it’s not as bad as it had been before. “Still kinda tired,” he admits.
Noct hums in acknowledgement, sitting up. “Specs left some soup for you to eat when you woke up, want me to go grab it?”
Prompto’s stomach rumbling is answer enough. “Thanks,” he says sheepishly, and Noct ruffles his hair before disappearing.
Prompto nearly drifts off again while he’s waiting, lulled by the familiar, soft voices outside. Before he can, Noct comes back with a bowl in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Prompto sits up and accepts both gratefully, guzzling half the water down in one go and eagerly tucking into the soup.
Noct sits with him the whole time, and when he’s almost done, says, “Hey, maybe don’t do that again?”
Prompto pauses, spoon halfway up to his mouth. He regards Noct for a moment, who’s staring at him with an intensity he’d been lacking just a few minutes before. Prompto brings his spoon up, swallows, and says, “It wasn’t that bad, dude.”
“It kinda was,” Noct tells him, tone flat and leaving no room for argument. “If Gladio and Ignis didn’t have any more potions-”
“Hey,” Prompto interrupts, frowning, and puts his nearly empty bowl down beside him and out of the way. He reaches to grab one of Noct’s hands. They’re cold and clammy, and shaking the slightest bit. “I’m okay, Noct. Don’t worry about it, okay?”
“I do worry about it,” Noct says, gripping Prompto’s hand like a vice.
Prompto pulls him forward and they wrap around each other, slotting together with easily familiarity. Noct kisses him, then, soft and slow, but with an edge of desperation. When they part, foreheads pressed together, Noct whispers, “I just don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I know,” Prompto says. He doesn’t want to see Noct hurt, either, or Gladio, or Ignis. He doesn’t bother saying that it’s his job to keep Noct safe, that even if it weren’t he’d still give his life for Noct’s at any moment, because Noct knows all this already and he’s tired of hearing it. They’ve had this same conversation so many times before, and Prompto knows Noct’s talked about it with Gladio and Ignis as well whenever either of them get hurt.
So instead Prompto lays them both down and tucks Noct under his chin, so he can press against Prompto’s chest and feel his heartbeat. Noct won’t admit it, but it helps ground him, reassures him that Prompto is there with him and that they’re both alive and well. Prompto plays with his hair the way Noct had done for him earlier, and Noct reaches around to slip under Prompto’s shirt and trace nonsensical patterns on his bare back in return. It doesn’t take long for them to lull each other to sleep, safe and wrapped up in each others arms.