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The sweet, freshly-baked smell of pastries is the first thing that wakes you up. Outside, you can just make out the campsite, the chairs set into their little circle around the fire pit. It’s warm and quiet inside the tent, the five small cots and bedrolls in a neat little row, all of them strewn with blankets and pillows of their own. On the far right, you can just make out the shape of Noctis in his sleeping bag, his shoulders and head wrapped in a navy blanket. He snores softly, his shoulders rising and falling as he sleeps through the morning. Ignis’s cot is neatly made, the pillow neatly folded into his blanket, his bedroll rolled back into its protective bag. Prompto’s bed is made, albeit a bit messy. A few pictures lay discarded on his dark green sleeping bag, next to a thick envelope full of more photos.
Next to you, Gladio snores loudly, his blankets thrown half off his lower body, and his sleeping bag kicked to the foot of his cot. His arm is thrown over his eyes, blocking the rising sun that peeks through the tent flaps. His shirt peeks out from under his pillow, from where he stuffed it the previous night. You reach out from the comfort of your own sleeping bag, touching his bare arm. When he doesn’t flinch, you poke a bit harder, making him snuffle and turn in his sleep. He shivers, mumbling in his sleep as he reaches blindly for his blanket.
“Gladio, you wanna get up?” you ask softly, pulling at his hand.
The noise he makes is unintelligible, something akin to a noise a displeased cat would make, but deeper. You’d laugh, except for the fact that you’re cut off by Gladio rolling onto your cot. Being the only one who isn’t bothered by Gladio’s engine snoring while you’re trying to fall asleep, you almost always end up with your cot pushed right next to his. You squeak in surprise as he settles right on top of you, his body heat warming you right through your blankets. He smiles, and as he pulls your spare blanket over himself, he begins to purr, nuzzling your face with his own.
There’s movement outside the tent, Prompto’s sleepy voice murmuring to Ignis about the status of breakfast. You’re not sure how Ignis became so accustomed to waking up before seven, but you’re never not impressed at his ability to make up a full breakfast for all five of you. Even Gladio, who could eat half the food Ignis makes himself, is always sated by the one large plate Ignis gives him morning. You take a moment to smell before you can make out the scent of Ignis’s chocolate croissants—everyone’s favorite breakfast that he makes. Unfortunately for all of you, he only makes them every once in a while, due to chocolate becoming harder and harder to come by recently.
“C’mon, Gladio, we gotta get up,” you grunt, pushing at his chest. It’s a feeble attempt, only earning you a lazy growl in response. “Iggy made chocolate croissants, and I want one before Prompto takes mine.”
“Don’t wanna,” he replies, worming his arms around and under you, squeezing tightly. “Wanna stay in bed.”
“I can’t breathe,” you squeak. He lets up, just enough to let you breathe a bit better, but he continues to nuzzle your face. His hair tickles your nose, and the warmth of his body is cooking you in your blankets.
“Mmmph,” Noctis grunts from his bed, tossing and turning. You frown, pushing at Gladio a little more forcefully. The space heater of a man that’s laying right on top of you groans, his tone a bit more frustrated and less playful.
“Do we
have
to?” he mumbles. You feel the scratch of his beard against your cheek as he nuzzles your sleep-tangled hair. Lightly, you trace your fingers across the lines of his tattoos, feeling his muscles flex underneath your touch. He makes a soft, contented sound, not unlike a catlike sound, and you feel his long lashes tickle your skin as he closes his eyes.
There’s a loud, drawn-out yawn from the other side of the tent, and you look over in time to see Noctis wrapping his blanket around his shoulders, running one hand through his fluffy blue-black hair. Without a word, he eyes the two of you, yawning again, before slipping through the flaps of the tent. You hear Ignis greet him, followed by a pleased noise as he’s handed his plate of breakfast. It’s then that you feel weird for being in bed later than the group cat, whose habit of sleeping whenever he gets a free moment has been a joke since you all were young.
“
Gladiolus Amicitia
,” you hiss. “I swear on the Six, if you make me miss Iggy’s chocolate croissants, you owe me your share of dessert for the next five campsites.”
Gladio makes an indignant noise before he squeezes you tighter, muttering something about how ridiculous it is that you love Ignis’s chocolate croissants more than him.
“At least hand me my phone if I’m not going to make it to breakfast,” you try. Uselessly, you fumble for your phone briefly before giving up. Above you, there’s a deep sigh, before you feel a loss of weight and warmth. You sit up, pulling on your sweater and gingerly detangling your hair with your fingers. Gladio pats his bed for his shirt before he tugs it out from under his pillow, pulling it over his head and letting out a loud, dramatic yawn that’s solely for your amusement.
You wrap your arms around his middle, hugging him from behind so you can absorb his warmth. “Thank you,” you coo, nuzzling the soft grey cotton of his shirt. He grumbles in response, but you feel his hands wrap around yours in lieu of a verbal thanks.
Upon your exit of the tent, you’re greeted with breakfast, which is, in fact, Ignis’s chocolate croissants, alongside eggs and sausage.
“Mornin.’” Noctis mumbles. He sits in his chair with his feet up, blanket wrapped around his entire body and pulled part way over his head. His plate is empty, and in his hands he holds one of the massive croissants in both his hands.
“Morning!” Prompto chirps from his chair. His own breakfast is partially eaten through, though there’s no sign of his croissant. You can smell the steaming cup of hot chocolate in his hands, and you spot a few marshmallows poking out of the top.
“Good to see you’re awake,” Ignis purrs, kissing your cheek and handing you a plate. He’s not sitting, due to his belief that everyone should be fed their first portion before he eats. “Don’t worry. I saved some for you.”
You return his kiss and drop into your chair just as Gladio pushes his way out of the tent. He greets the others all at once with a grunt before he plops ungracefully into his chair. Clearly amused, Ignis hands him his plate, piled high with eggs and sausage mixed together. It only takes Gladio a split second to realize he’s missing a croissant.
“Did I not earn a croissant, or are you hiding mine?” he asks, indignant. Ignis smiles as he finishes his sip of Ebony.
“No, Gladio, I did not forget. However, you seem to have forgotten when you ate five in one sitting, before you got sick and—”
“Alright, Iggy, I got it,” Gladio grumbles, taking a large bite of his eggs and sausage. The look on his face afterwards suggests he was not ready for the temperature of his food, but is too proud to fan his mouth.
Gently, Ignis places a large chocolate croissant on Gladio’s plate, before giving him a pat on the head. It’s a small, motherly gesture that amuses you, Prompto, and Noctis, and no doubt, Ignis as well.
“And in case anyone is wondering,” Ignis says, as he finally sits with his own plate of food. “I did, in fact, make extra croissants this time.”