Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His Royal Highness was being a royal piss brat these days.

Between snappy, brusque replies and the equally sour expressions, you weren’t sure which was worse: the fact that Noctis was hiding something and wouldn’t tell you, or that he was taking it out on you and the other guys. Maybe if it was just something you had done, and he was angry at you alone, you could take it in stride. But something was bothering him, more than the usual bad mood, and nobody had any idea why. It’d already been weeks since the fall of Insomnia, and he’d seemed to have picked himself back up, but maybe things were just worse than you thought.

“Where is he?” you asked immediately after trotting back to camp, Ignis’ requested procurements in your arms. Noctis’ dark head was nowhere to be sighted, and the sun was already hugging the distant horizon, dying everything orange. Prompto sighed by the fire, scrolling through his phone.

“Where d’you think? The docks.”

“By himself?”

“Stormed off with a big ol’ sigh and everything. Honestly… what’s up with him?”

He was scowling, but you knew Prompto was just as worried as you were. Dropping off the herbs at Ignis’ makeshift worktable, you straightened up.

“I’m gonna go down. Check on him.”

“You sure?” Gladio asked from his own seat, glancing up from the broadsword he was polishing. “Might be better to just leave him alone to blow off steam.”

“I’d feel worse if I didn’t go. I’ll be right back.”

“Do be careful,” Ignis murmured seriously as you passed. His face was a quiet grimace. “It’s slippery with the rain.”

You were sure he’d meant that you should tread lightly in other ways, but you nodded wordlessly and set off towards the lake.

Noctis was standing, a clear figure of black outlined against the expansively deep blue. You noticed that the fishing pole was propped up at his side instead of in his hand like usual. You stayed back a little, not wanting to disturb him in case he was focusing on baiting something. His back was hunched, tense, and he didn’t seem to care that the air was unbearably cold down here. You cleared your throat after a while.

“Noct.”

His fingers twitched at his side in recognition, but he didn’t move to greet you. Quietly, you walked to his side, glancing down into the water. It was clearer compared to the other fishing spots, but there wasn’t much to see under the ripples. Noctis’ frown looked harsh even in the distorted reflection.

“What?” he sighed, finally, grabbing his pole and reeling in his line. His frustration knocked your resolve down a peg, but you didn’t come here to get scared off by a little attitude.

“I should be asking you. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I keep telling you all that, don’t I?”

You watched as he attempted to recast the line. But, something was wrong—instead of the usual, easy flick, he struggled with both arms before an agonized expression flashed across his face.

“Does something hurt?” you accused with realization.

“[Name], I’m fine.” It was a dangerously low warning, one you ignored.

“You’re not fine if you can’t even hold a fishing rod right. Hey—is that why you’ve been turning down all those hunts?”

It’d been strange, his sudden refusal to take on side jobs while idling around, waiting for news. Wandering around to look for frogs didn’t exactly seem all too befitting of the duty-bound prince. It’d been only a few days ago when this had all started. Had he been hiding an injury for that long?

“It’s just sore. Nothing life threatening.” He was practically bristling, leaning away from you as you levelled your glare onto him.

“Where does it hurt?”

“I told you—”

“And I’m telling you!” you snapped, interrupting his whining. You were probably scaring away the fish now, but judging by his empty hands, he wasn’t doing too hot anyways. “I’m the Crownsguard’s healer, aren’t I? You didn’t just bring me along for a joyride. Let me help you.”

“It’s fine, all right?”

Your head was going to blow. You clenched your hands into clammy fists at your sides. “Don’t make me commit a crime against the throne just so I can do my damn job.”

His eyebrow twitched, and finally, he seemed to realize you were serious. With a scowl, he laid his left hand over his right arm and averted his gaze.

“It’s just my arm. It seized up and I can’t hold things properly anymore. It’ll go away with rest, so it’s not a big deal..”

“So why aren’t you resting?” You stared pointedly at the rod in his hand.

“Fishing is how I rest.”

“You’ve probably just overworked yourself.” You reached out expectantly. When he didn’t move, you shook your hands. “Let me see.”

“Jeez…”

He thrust his arm out to you aggressively. The skin didn’t look damaged, and after a quick survey, nothing seemed wrong at the surface level. But the second you touched him, he hissed and recoiled.

“That bad?”

“I probably pushed myself with a bad warp on those coeurls,” he muttered sullenly. “Should’ve left the heavy lifting to Gladio.”

It was almost cute, how broken hearted he was over some tennis elbow. You shook your head in exasperation. All of that because of a little pain? Still, you were relieved it wasn’t anything serious or deeper than strained tissue.

“You’ll finally let me treat you, then?”

He eyed you warily. “What are you gonna do? Can’t I just keep taking potions like usual?”

“Those just numb the pain,” you argued. “It doesn’t actually help you get better.”

“Then what? Can you actually help?”

“Of course I can!” you replied indignantly. “I don’t come from a Lucian line of healers for nothing.”

“Can you deal with it after everybody else is asleep?” he suddenly insisted, looking away to glare at his toes. “I’m… not trying to bother anybody.”

“Oh, Noctis…” You trailed off. You wanted to tell him that he wasn’t a bother, and it was actually worse on everybody that he’d kept this to himself for so long, but now that you’d caught him on your hook you didn’t want him to wriggle out of it. “Okay. Come to my tent later, then?”

“Yeah, whatever.” He reached for the line, but you stopped him by reaching your hand out.

“Promise me.”

“I said I’d come, didn’t I?” His blue eyes met yours, the cool shifting shades of glacier ice. They softened when he saw the concern in your face, and a bit guiltily, he looked back down at your pinky.

“All right… I promise.” He slipped his pinky around yours before quickly letting go. You couldn’t help your smile.

“Ignis is probably done with the food. Let’s go.”

“Yeah, okay.” He put the fishing rod away and began to stalk back up to the camp ground. Before he got very far, he looked back over his shoulder. “Hey, you comin’?”

“Yup.” Happily, you scrambled up after him. He’d opened up to you, hadn’t he? Maybe you were overthinking it, or your standards were incredibly low, but you were glad.

“Hey, there he is!” Prompto’s voice echoed across as soon as the two of you hiked up the incline. “Let’s go for a round of cards, Noct!”

“Not tonight,” Noctis snapped, in that ever-peevish voice that made Prompto—the embodiment of sunlight—flinch. Then, under his breath, he added, “but thanks.”

“Oh,” Prompto stammered, clearly taken off guard. “Okay, no problem. Another time.”

“Yeah.”

Gladio and Ignis both seemed to have heard also, having been eavesdropping or something. Their faces melted with relief. Gladio shot you a wink and mouthed something that you dutifully ignored.

Once dinner was done and everybody had gone back to their tents, you sat on your sleeping bed with an odd sense of nervousness. Usually the guys crammed themselves two and two, leaving you with your own smaller one, thank the gods. Being the only girl in a fantastic foursome left you at a constant give-and-take. It was bad enough being in the stinking car.

“It’s me,” Noctis announced in a whisper outside just when you had managed to start calming down. Your nerves shot themselves into high gear once again, and your fingers were shaking when you unzipped the inner chamber. You sucked in a deep breath to steel yourself as he clambered inside. It wasn’t like this was anything past a regular treatment. Purely professional.

“So, seriously. Are you going to do spells on me or what?”

“You don’t know how I work after all this time?” you teased. Noctis shrugged, but he looked a little embarrassed about it.

“I guess I never really thought about it. Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m just glad I can help.” You unzipped your kit as he knelt across from you, aware that Noctis was eyeing it as warily as he did a plate of greens.

House [Surname] of Lucis was trained, with royal guidance, in advanced medicine. You also learnt traditional, holistic healing. Your parents served the king, whereas you were assigned the coveted honour to accompany the prince in his stead. Your fingers hovered over the vials. Your mother and father… King Regis… had you ever said goodbye…?

“What’s up?”

His voice was hoarse in its attempt to stay quiet. You glanced over. In the feeble glow of the dim flashlight you’d hung up, his eyes looked black.

“Nothing,” you replied, a bit shameful. “I was just… thinking about home.”

“Yeah. I think about it all the time, too.” He clenched and unclenched his fists, wincing with the motion. “What I could’ve done. What I—we—lost.”

“There was nothing you could have done.”

“I know. But it still doesn’t feel right.” He sighed, and a gentle silence settled as you busied yourself in preparation.

“…y’know, it’s been a long time since we talked like this. Alone.”

You scooted closer with your kit of supplies, sitting comfortably across from his injured arm. He gave you a curious look you pretended you didn’t see.

“I guess so. Even as kids, you were always busy with school and stuff.”

“Yeah. But we still got to play a lot, didn’t we?”

You rolled back his sleeve. He flinched when you touched him, pulling his arm back protectively.

“Sorry,” you apologized.

“No, it’s okay. I’m just not used to it.”

“It’s gonna be a problem if you keep jumping around like that,” you said wryly. “Get used to me. What, you don’t trust me?”

It was a passing comment, but there was a grain of bitter truth to it. Noctis frowned.

“Of course I trust you. It’s just that I’m not used to people touching me is all…”

“You’ll trust me with your life in battle, but I can’t manhandle you a little for your own good?”

“Manhandle?” he repeated incredulously. You laughed, thankful that the mood had shifted.

“Relax. I’m just telling you to loosen up.”

When you touched his arm again, you felt him stiffen in the conscious effort to not jerk away. You laid your hands over his cool skin, allowing him to warm up to your touch. After a couple of seconds, you saw the muscles in his neck relax and felt him give more of his weight to you.

“Good.”

“You’ve been dodging the question,” he noted suspiciously. “What are you going to do?”

“Massage. And acupuncture.”

“Whoa, what?” Once again, he’d snapped his arm out of your hands, cradling it to his chest protectively. “You’re gonna stick me with needles?!”

“It’s going to help!” you argued. You grabbed his wrist and straightened his arm, slapping it a bit to force him to drop it. “You don’t have a choice, so suck it up.”

“Ugh…” He groaned, but thankfully, obeyed. “Is it going to hurt?”

“Yeah, a bit. But you’ll feel a lot better after, so it’s worth it. Trust me.”

“I already said I do, but now I’m regretting it,” he grumbled. You grinned to yourself before settling to work.

“Make a fist.” You followed his tendons when he did and winced to yourself when you felt how hot and inflamed his skin was. It was a bad injury.

“How long’ve you been hiding this?” you asked, a little offended he hadn’t come to you sooner.

“I didn’t think it was that serious. A couple days? It was after those coeurls, I think.”

“That was a long time ago.” You placed the heel of your palm against the bulge of muscle and pressed. He hissed, and you felt him twitch in protest, but he kept his arm in place.

“Let me know if it hurts too bad,” you murmured. “Don’t need you passing out on me.”

“I’m not that weak.” But the expression on his face said otherwise.

“Alright. This is going to really suck, but bear with me.”

“Then just don’t do i—ow!”

You stiffened your thumb and dug it into the knot, hard, feeling it grate underneath your touch. His breath hitched, and he stifled a swear behind his other hand. You massaged his arm with the intent of breaking apart the muscle fibres by force. You could feel Noctis actively fighting himself to stay where he was.

“Aw, come on,” you teased. “Prom doesn’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” he retorted, but he looked like he was about to start. You almost felt bad for hurting him.

(Almost.)

“How long?” he asked in a strained voice, restlessly shifting his weight in his seat.

“Until the pain becomes tolerable.”

“Ugh…” He bit into his fist and closed his eyes, brow furrowing with the same intense concentration he had facing down giants. Funny that he was opposing you the same way he would a daemon.

“Even when we were kids, you always had somebody looking out for you.” Hoping to distract him, you went back to happier days, smiling fondly as you kneaded out his knot. “Ignis wouldn’t ever leave us alone. Remember when we tried to hide from him?”

“Specs was always like that, huh.”

“He always showed me up. He beats me out at everything, kinda.” You laughed to yourself, hoping to mask the self-deprecation that’d leaked out by accident. You’d never admit it to him, but Ignis Scientia was always a step ahead of you. He was better in combat, strategy, and advising. Obviously, you couldn’t hold a candle to his cooking. He was a decent healer himself, too. If not for your specialized training and Noctis’ personal fondness for you in the Crownsguard, he probably could’ve easily replaced you.

“Ignis is a tightass. But I feel better having both of you on my si—shit, [Name]!”

Something gave with a crunch. Your face lit up.

“You’re loosening up.”

Honestly, you were relieved. If he talked about you anymore you’d probably lose your composure in front of him. You’d done a pretty good job of keeping it together so far, but wedging yourself in the Regalia beside him for days on end… fighting back to back… watching him on his knees, a breath away from death… the broadness of back as he accepted the power of kings… his smile...

“I’ll give you a break,” you announced suddenly, dropping his arm. “Let me set up.”

You’d needled the others before. Iggy and Gladio were very receptive and appreciative of it. Prom was a bit more hesitant about you coming at him with pointy objects, but even he had nasty spasms that you’d poked away. Noct was the only one left.

“Get it over with.”

“Sir yes sir.”

You wiped his skin with a sterilization tab and landmarked. His gaze was heavy on you. You’d obviously felt the pressure of being watched before, but the prince was a little different than any other patient.

“Here goes. Relax. Just a poke.”

“Ugh.” He winced, and you felt the muscles spasm with wild abandon as you tapped the needle in. You wriggled it around with trained precision, satisfied when his arm began to relax and soften.

“See? Already a bit better.”

“…huh. I guess you’re right.”

You finished off quickly. Finally, your treatment was done. He rolled his fist, looking down at his limb with muted impress.

“You were right,” he conceded, looking defeated as he said it. “It feels better. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Any time. You’ll come to me sooner if you’re hurt, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased. You looked down at his outstretched pinky and felt the blush creep up your neck.

“Hey. Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he insisted, his expression serious. “I promise.”

“…okay, then.” You wrapped your pinky around his, bouncing it once. Then, in a fluid motion you didn’t notice, he’d slipped his palm to press against yours.

“Knew it. Your hands are just as small as they were back then.” He laughed, gently. “We used to do this all the time, too. Remember when you thought you were taller than me?”

“Thoug—hey, I was taller than you! Then you hit a growth spurt. But that wasn’t my fault.”

“Right.” He pulled his hand away, and you sorely missed the warmth. With a heavy sigh he got up to a squat. “Then. I’m going to bed.”

“Yeah, okay. Good night, Prince Knot-ctis.”

“Har, har.” He rolled his eyes but flashed you a smile—one of those rare, sweet ones Prompto’s camera would only ever catch on passing luck. “Good night, [Name].”

You watched him go. So much for keeping things professional—the tight bundle of emotions in your heart didn’t seem to have any intention of winding down.

Chapter Text

You ducked out of your tent groggily, flashlight in hand, only to be unexpectedly blinded by the fire pit in full blaze. Everybody had already gone to bed hours ago, you thought. But the one most likely to still be up at this godsawful hour would be…

“Ignis?”

Your voice was hoarse, cracking under the heavy strain of sleep. Squinting hard, you struggled to make out an Ignis-shaped outline in a seat, closing a book.

“[Name].” The timbre of his silky accent soothed your ears.

“Mm… what’re you still doing up?” You rubbed the spots out of your eyes, trying to wake yourself up properly.

“I couldn’t sleep.” The orange firelight glinted off his glasses as he turned his gaze to you. “And you?”

There’s really no dignified way to tell a man that you need to squat in the bushes to take a piss, so you vaguely gestured out to the underbrush instead. He nodded in understanding and re-opened his book.

“Be careful in the dark.”

The discomfort of him being conscious of you doing your dirty business by a tree made all the urgency vanish at once. It wasn’t like it was the worst he’d seen of you, but still, you didn’t think that anybody would be up. Most of all, however, you were taken aback that he of all people wasn’t yet in bed.

“It was a long drive to Galdin,” you mentioned, deciding to sit beside him in the other chair. The group had practically run the Regalia into the ground while crossing the continent. “And we just had that run-in with daemons. Aren’t you tired?”

“A bit,” he agreed, “but sleep eludes me. I thought I might as well get some reading done instead of restlessly lying in place.”

“That’s what you get for having a coffee addiction,” you murmured dryly. If it was anybody else, you probably wouldn’t tease them like this, but Ignis returned a wry smile like you knew he would.

“Perhaps. Though they call it an addiction for a reason.”

“You really need to get some rest, though.” You couldn’t help but feel bad for him. He fought alongside all the other guys, sure, but he also drove and cooked and managed intel. He’d even sewed Noct’s clothes back together like some overbearing mother chocobo. He basically did everything in this moving circus, and the fact that he refused to relax after a long day was worrisome, if not borderline annoying.

“I’ll probably be tired enough to sleep after another chapter or so. You should go on back to sleep.”

He was always like this: amicably polite, but dodgy every time the conversation turned back to himself. It was like he was allergic to talking about himself. You were scowling before you even realized it. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, or the trauma of getting your ass beat by an iron giant after being wedged between sweaty men for hours on end, but you finally snapped.

“You know you’re allowed to put yourself first, right?”

Now that your kidneys were pumping battery-acid adrenaline, you were able to keep your eyelids from drooping. Glaring at him, he blinked back in obvious surprise.

“Er… pardon me?”

“Ugh… what an Iggy-core answer.” You rolled your eyes, slumping back into your chair. “Do you even know how to take care of yourself instead of others?”

“You seem quite invested in me.”

“Well—that’s because I am!” you spluttered, embarrassed to have the conversation spun back to you. It was yet another one of his tricks to distract you, and you refused to let him slip out of this one. “If you really cared about others, you’d know how much it hurts me to see you suffering. None of us can go on if you burn yourself out. Did you ever think about that?”

“I… no, I didn’t realize.” He sounded oddly sheepish about it for once, the haughty confidence of his deflated. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes. Thank you. You should be.” You’d been whisper-yelling as not to disturb the others, but now that you had calmed down somewhat, you realized the full implications of what you’d just said. Your face tickled with a heat warmer than the fire across from you. “I mean. It’s the same for the rest of the guys. You just… you, uh, in particular, never let anybody take care of you. So, I wish you would. …not that it’s just you or anything. You know?”

If he noticed your painfully awkward sentence fragments, he didn’t say anything, thoughtfully looking into the fire instead. His light green eyes glowed dully like gold ore absorbing the warm toned light. Suddenly, he turned towards you, and you felt like he was holding you captive under his soft stare.

“...thank you. For your concern. You’re right; I shouldn’t have to make you worry.”

“Well. Cool. That’s that, then. Good night!” You scrambled out of your chair in haste, hoping to scurry back to your tent to mourn your shameful performance in peace before he opened his mouth to say something else.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a remedy for a sore neck, would you?”

“A sore neck?” you repeated, looking down at him. He gripped his shoulder with a grimace.

“It’s just been bothering me. Due to our low supply of curatives, I’ve been withholding potion use… but it’s been hard to tolerate as of late.”

“Oh.” It made sense that he’d be stiff. Sitting for hours at the wheel, you could only imagine what kind of knotted-up mess his back looked like. “Yeah, I can help with that. Do you mind if I take a look?”

“Please.”

You got to your feet and crossed to the back of his chair. You didn’t actually realize how close you were to him until you placed your palms onto his shoulders, feeling his warmth radiate through the fabric of his shirt. You held back a shudder. It’s fine. You’ve done this before with countless other patients. A massage doesn’t even mean anything. Your hand pressed against something hard and metallic as you scoped out his anatomical landmarks.

“Oh, um. Your necklace.” You always forgot about it since he kept it neatly tucked away, unlike Gladio, whose vocabulary probably didn’t even include the term “neatly tucked away”. In the dark, the silver chain sparkled up at you almost secretively. It was an attractive piece of jewelry for him. If he just unbuttoned his shirt more, he could probably show it off better. It’d be a good look for h…

Wait a damn second. Shit. Could you not be horny for your fellow Crownsguard during a treatment?!

“Should I remove it?” he asked while you were stamping down your surge of hormones.

“No, it’s okay. Just let me know if it bothers you.” Hurriedly, you dug your thumbs into the tissue, trying to distract yourself with work. Immediately, you confirmed your suspicions.

“Ignis, you are fucked up,” you whistled lowly, almost impressed with how tense his body was. If it were you, you doubted you’d even be able to roll out of bed. He exhaled sharply under your touch.

“That strikes me with endless reassurance.”

“Obviously I’m gonna fix you, but sheesh. Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” No—why hadn’t you noticed earlier? As the Crownsguard’s official healing specialist, you probably should’ve been the first to point something out. And honestly, you had always known at the back of your mind that he was probably hiding things from you. He’s that type of guy. But Ignis always made it so easy for you to put him on the back burner. You figured you’d just talk to him about things next time since it never seemed too serious, but next time lead into next time, and now you’ve realized that you’d just completely forgot to nag him in proper. Yet he always left headspace for you.

A short gasp escaped him all of the sudden, one that almost scared you. You’d never heard anything like that before. Well, actually, you had—once while shoving bird fluff down his throat. (It was an emergency situation. There wasn’t much grace allowance for dignity.) It petered into something crossed between a mangled groan and a… a goddamn moan, and you were so thankful that he couldn’t see your face right now. Hells, you were happy you couldn’t see your own expression.

“Is this okay?” you asked nervously, hoping to fill the silence with conversation so that you didn’t have to listen to him make these kinds of mangled noises and then idle with your thoughts.

“I could stand a bit more pressure.”

You pressed more firmly into his trapezius and earnt yourself another breathy whimper. Okay—is he just doing this to screw with you? He had to be. He knew what he was doing to you; he always knows what he’s doing. Consider you screwed with.

Consider you screwed? No, wait, that’s not what you meant—

He suddenly jumped when you passed over something sensitive, hissing under his breath with a controlled attempt to stop himself from recoiling away. You scaled back, realizing you’d been distracting yourself from doing your job properly. The muscles in his upper back were writhing and spasming like snakes under your hands, and you hadn’t even gotten to assess his lower back. They’d probably release once you got to real physical therapy, but for now, the most you could do was try and loosen things up.

“I’ll probably need to work on you more than once,” you advised, desperately blurting it out to once again dump mindless words into the widening gaps of silence. It felt like you were trying to pour sand into a bucket with holes. “If that’s all right with you.”

“Mm… it’s more than all right,” he sighed, tucking his head to his chest. “I see that there’s no doubt… as to why you’re the Crown Healer…”

His words were slurring a bit, less clear than the usual snap. He was barely speaking above a whisper. Was he getting sleepy after all?

“Don’t fall asleep sitting up,” you chided. “It’ll make things worse.”

Silence. You paused your hands and leant forwards to look at his face. His eyes were closed, fair lashes casting long, gossamer shadows across his cheek. It made you realize that you’d never actually seen him asleep before. He was always meddling with something; always busy. His glasses had slipped down the tall bridge of his nose. The lines of his lips were soft, in harsh contrast to the sharp, masculine angle of his jaw.

He was a truly handsome man.

“Ignis?” you asked again, more gently. You’d like to let him keep sleeping forever if you could keep admiring him like this. But it wasn’t fair. If he didn’t stir you’d have to wake Gladio up to carry him into a tent. Even if you dumped him out of his seat, there was no way you’d be able to boost a grown man without dragging him in the dirt.

“Hm?” His eyes fluttered open lazily, and for a good long second that felt like eternity, the two of you just looked at each other. At this proximity, and at this angle with your hair brushing your chin, it felt like you were diving in for a kiss. With a strangled gasp you pulled back and promptly punched him in the shoulder blade, knowing it’d be sore. He yelped indignantly, hurtling away from you.

“Right! Well, looks like you’re finally ready to catch up on your beauty sleep, so we’ll pick up on this later.”

“Yes, very well…” He yawned, widely, in a boyish way that almost didn’t become him. You just couldn’t look away. It was helpless, and worst of all, hopeless.

What else were you supposed to do but torture yourself in your head? He’s the Royal Advisor for heaven’s sake, and you’re just you. On this journey as the united Crownsguard, you can pretend he sees something in you past a comrade in arms. Making dinner together, saved pictures with you and him in Prompto’s camera, all of that—it just helps to feed into this fantasy. Even if you wanted to take your delusions a step further and wonder what it’d be like, you’d never be number one. But in the end, that’s all it is. Pretending.

You jumped when you felt a sudden touch on your cheek, eyes wide when he grinned up at you. You stayed perfectly still as he delicately pulled a stray lock of hair back behind your ear. His fingertips seemed to ghost down your cheek as he pulled away.

“I look forwards to it.”

After that, he got up, kicking out the fire before retreating back to a tent. You stood there in the dark, completely numb. Your face tingled where he touched you.

That wasn’t just pretending, was it? Ignis never did anything he didn’t mean to do. You’ve got to be overthinking it. But the way your heart’s pounding in your chest doesn’t allow you to deny your feelings.

That night, the both of you didn’t seem to get much sleep at all.

Chapter Text

You thought that getting friendzoned would suck less than little sister zoned, but here you are, proven wrong yet again.

You’re not a kid, and neither is Gladio. (You already have enough trouble imagining him coming out of the womb without all that mass and brawn.) Neither of you are stupid, either. There’s a definite attraction between the two of you that’s more than just bodies and gravity. After you spend all that time on the road, fighting back to back, eating shoulder to shoulder… it’s pretty easy to tell the difference between caring about your comrade and feeling something more. But even if he’s the right person, it’s not the right time.

Which really freaking sucks, doesn’t it?

It was devastating enough to have a crush on your fellow Crownsguard member. How could you cope with him ruffling your hair, shamelessly dropping “you remind me of Iris!” like that wasn’t going to irreparably damage your ego? Iris is a lovely girl, but Iris is Gladio’s baby sister. So, you’re telling me the insanely attractive guy you’re hopelessly into thinks of you as a kid? Worse—his sibling?!

Gods above. You didn’t think you had any way of getting out of that one until he came back from his personal quest. You’d just about given up, deciding you’d ride your selfish feelings out until they died, or you went first. In his absence, though, your feelings just cut you deeper instead of going away like they were supposed to. But he was different when he returned. Stronger. He was a new man, with or without those new scars. Everybody could tell—something was steadier in him. Resolve, maybe. He’d pulled you aside and said something you’d never forget under the silver glow of the moon and the fiery whistle of the wind:

“The other guys are my brothers. But you’re something else to me. Something special. You’ll just have to be patient until I can finally say it, though.”

And so… nothing. Because even if you like him and he maybe kinda sorta likes you back (question mark?!), the Empire is currently threatening to end Eos, the prince and his retinue is in constant battle with one thing or another, and it’s just not the right setting for romance.

Which really freaking sucks, especially when you’re this close to touching his ass.

“Dammit,” he swore gravelly in that harsh voice you love, wincing as you dug your elbow into his hip. It spasmed wildly around you. “You couldn’t go a little easier on me?”

“You’re a big boy. You can take it. Sheesh, this is a nasty knot...”

As the Crown Healer, you’re pretty well accustomed to treating your patients using multiple holistic techniques, including massage. Gladio used to steer clear of you, though. See citations for “stupid man with butthurt ego”. But cramming into the Regalia takes its toll on even the mightiest of warriors, and after your first successful massage, he’s always come crawling back to you with new aches and pains.

“That’s what you’re here for.”

Even with your aggressive treatment-borderline-abuse, his hip flexors weren’t responding as well as you hoped. The knot was stiff like tendon. That wasn’t even his only problem…

“I’m gonna have to go deeper into your glutes,” you realized out loud in real time. You closed your eyes and tried to reset your expression. It’s just business. Nothing to it. Ass muscles are just muscles. No sweat. “Prepare yourself, yeah?”

“For wh—agh!”

Better to just get it over with before you could overthink it. You laid your forearm over his rear, throwing your whole body weight into it. You did not think about how toned he was. No ma’am—no thoughts here whatsoever. You forced pressure into his behind until you felt the muscles start to calm down. Slowly, like threads snapping, his body gave around you. Gladio exhaled sharply with a groan.

“Shit. You hate me or something?”

He groaned into his arms when you backed off, satisfied with the release you’d forced out of his bundled muscles. You grinned down at him wryly.

“Aw, don’t be like that.”

“At least let me take you out to dinner before you get wild with me.” He sat up, stretching as he did. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest and you couldn’t help but resent him for tossing those words around like it didn’t mean anything. It was fine for you and him to be stuck in this limbo, so long as he didn’t tease or worse, tempt you. But Gladio hates playing by rules he doesn’t like.

“I guess I’m sick of eating Iggy’s food.” You decided to play along, stamping your feelings back into the confines of your shitty heart cage you’d set up to protect yourself. The bars might as well be made out of toothpicks, though. Gladio suddenly leant forwards, peering down at you. He’d just been lying on your massage table, but even though he was still sitting on it, his bulky frame allowed him to be eye level with you. This close up, you saw each thick dark lash fanning out from his gorgeous chestnut brown eyes. It took you a full minute to realize you should jump back.

“What?” You recoiled, shy by how intensely he’d been staring.

“Nothing. But I ain’t kiddin’.”

“You’re… not?” It was a stupid thing to say, you knew, but you were at a genuine loss for words. Gladio grinned, resting his head in a hand.

“We’ll get to Lestallum by tomorrow. How’s you and me and the street food sound?”

“Iggy will get jealous we’re going out to shops without him. And is it really okay for the Shield to ditch the prince?”

You were grasping at straws. You knew it, he knew it. His smile shifted into a smirk, one that made you feel cold and hot at the same time.

“I’m not askin’ Iggy. I’m askin’ you. Besides, His Royal Highness can handle himself for a few hours. What d’you say?”

It was a good argument. You’d run out of options and felt your shoulders deflate.

“Well… I, uh. I’m not one to turn down free food!” You tried to keep it upbeat and casual. Reading too much into things was just bound to get you hurt. Gladio just wanted to hang out with you because he liked you—as a friend. And friends hang out platonically all the time. It’d be the same as going out to get skewers with Prompto or Ignis or Noctis or any of your other male friends.

But Gladio hates playing by rules he doesn’t like.

“It’s a date.” He reached out, touching your face gently with the tips of his fingers. He smiled one last time before slipping off the massage table, sauntering away. You couldn’t help but gape after him. Hate to see you leave, love to watch you go? Is this really the time?

Well, so much for not getting your hopes up.

Chapter Text

“So, Prom… you seemed real excited that we’re stopping by Hammerhead tomorrow.”

“’cause I am,” he replied matter-of-factly. His voice made his back vibrate beneath your hands. Sitting in one of the foldable chairs by the campfire, he was currently your patient in the make-shift office. “We haven’t eaten Takka’s food in forever.”

“Yeah, sure… but is that… all?”

You pointed your elbow at one of the particularly nasty knots he’d always get in his shoulder, courtesy of being a marksman. Though you wouldn’t be surprised if he was this sore from always being hunched over his phone and camera. He jumped, stamping his foot in the ground.

“Hey, that hurts!” he whined.

“Aw. Poor baby. Just bear with it, okay?” You leant more and more of your weight into his back, ignoring how his hands scrambled for purchase to clutch onto something. “You sure you’re not just thinking about Cindy?”

“C-Cindy has nothing to do with anything!” he blurted out bashfully. “Why’re you asking about—eep—her?”

He was easier to read than a freaking children’s picture book. Irritated, you pushed down harder, feeling the tightened muscle knots grind against your bone. Prompto yelped with discomfort, trying to pull away from you. You kept him in place with a firm grip using your other hand.

“And you were pretty obsessed with Aranea, too, now that I think about it.”

“Oh, er, was I? I don’t rem—um, [Name], can you lay off a bit—ow!”

You were doing excruciating circles now, throwing your whole weight into breaking down the muscle fibres. If you were in a better mood you wouldn’t be treating one of your clients so harshly, especially since that client was your friend, and (shh!) current crush. But Prompto’s puppy dog eyes being trained on other girls was doing something nasty to you. You’d never admit it; jealousy’s such an ugly word. But you’re still kinda pissed that Prompto’s being too dumb to figure out your very obvious feelings.

“[Name],” he gasped, finally worming out of your grip. He turned back to look at you, sweating bullets. “What’s your deal?”

“My deal?” you repeated, offended. “What about yours?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nevermind,” you snapped. What could you say without flat out embarrassing yourself? It was pretty clear that Prompto didn’t like you back. Cindy’s got a rack for days and also talent with fixing up the Regalia in ways you could never compete. Her kindness and sunny disposition far exceeds your own. At least she seems like a regular human, though—Aranea’s in another league entirely. She’s like a war machine. You get why your fellow Crownsguard isn’t interested in you. You’re just trying to come to terms with it. But the truth being rubbed in your face like salt in the wound hurts just as badly as the first time around. “Just go and ice that.”

“Hey, [Name]!? Don’t just walk off—talk to me.”

He scrambled out of his chair to hobble after you. You wished he wouldn’t chase after you; it was making getting over him a lot harder than it should be. If you could just have some distance, maybe some self-reflection, you would probably be fine in no time. But as team members of the Crownsguard’s retinue, you’re quite literally stuck an arm’s length away from Prompto at all times, and that makes squashing your feelings very difficult.

“I’m fine, okay? Just drop it.” You didn’t even know where you were trying to go, this haven set up in the middle of the wild. Just anywhere away from him.

“No… I’m not just going to leave you. You’re always helping me whenever I’m in trouble. Can’t I try and help you?”

You finally paused in your steps, allowing him to come around and stand in front of you. His blue eyes were endless, crystalline, so gentle and distantly sad in the silver moonlight. You shivered unwittingly.

“I-if you don’t trust me then that’s okay. I just want to be there for you, y’know? If that’s okay… um, with you, I mean.” Shy all of the sudden, he started to ramble, the way he always does when he’s nervous. You found his growing anxiety to be comforting somehow and felt your lips curl into an unconscious smile. He looked relieved when he noticed your expression.

“Phew. You haven’t smiled in a while. I was worried.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, averting your gaze. Your face was warming at the thought of him paying such close attention to you. He had a knack for grabbing candids of you that you didn’t quite hate. “It’s just… me being stupid. That’s all.”

“You’re not stupid,” he insisted, and you wished he would just stop talking so that you could actually get over him like you needed to. “You’re literally perfect.”

Your jaw felt slack. Since when had he learnt such flirtatious lines like that? You could imagine him all of the sudden, crammed up in the tent with the other guys, rehearsing increasingly embarrassing suggestions from the rest of the crew. Prompto didn’t even seem to notice what kind of bombshell he’d dropped on you, continuing easy-goingly, which was incredibly uncharacteristic of a guy often reduced to a stuttering mess when left alone with a woman.

“I mean, you’re the youngest person ever to become the Crown Healer. That’s crazy! You’re funny, smart, and pretty, so you shouldn’t be so down on yourself. If anybody’s a loser, it’s me.”

“That’s not true,” you interjected.

“Yeah, it is. I’m a nobody.” He shrugged, and it broke your heart, because you could tell he really believed what he was saying. You prodded him in the arm, trying to raise his downcast eyes from the ground.

“No, you’re not, Prompto.” You waited for him to meet your gaze before finding the courage to reach up, cupping his face in your hands. It felt like you had a handful of stars in your fingertips. He had so many more freckles than you thought.

“O-oh, you’re…”

“You’re somebody to me, at least. Somebody… special…” You were mumbling the last part, regretting saying it aloud already. Prompto caught your hand with scary accuracy as they start to drop back to your sides. It’s like he didn’t even have to look to know where you were, his eyes trained exclusively onto your face.

“Y-you’re special to me, too.” His words were clumsy, but he fought himself to say them anyways. Your heart was battering the inside of your chest. After all that pining, it surely couldn’t be this easy?

You opened your mouth to say something, but jumped, the words lost when you heard Gladio shout your name.

“Oi, it’s my turn, isn’t it?” he shouted, waving down at you. Oaf. The moment was ruined. Apologetically, you turned back to look at Prompto, only to find him collapsed to a kneeling position with his head in his hands. Worried, you dropped to your own knees and shook his shoulders.

“Hey—are you okay?!”

“I’m fine, I just… I never thought I would say something like that. Sorry. You must think I’m so freakin’ lame.” He was cringing into himself, and for a moment you felt like daylight had broken early, the sun’s rays ticklish on your cheeks.

“I kinda think it’s cute, actually.”

It was like a burden was sloughing off your shoulders. You could finally just say what you thought without having to wrap it up in an ambiguous joke. No need to bite down on your feelings now that they were in the open. It was such a relief. The tension in your own muscles began to melt away.

“Sorry I was being so rough with you earlier.”

“You can be rough with me any t…” Prompto trailed off as the implication of his words settled in, a few seconds too late. His face reddened steadily. “I… shouldn’t have said it like that.”

Time to bail. “I’m going to go help Gladio, but—uh—talk later?”

He nodded. All that honesty to come from a little massage therapy—who would’ve thought?