Chapter Text
Prompto can't help teasing Gladio. Over the past handful of encounters, Prompto's remained the only one of them who hasn't needed a potion. Gladio definitely has. Several times.
"Might be slipping there, big guy!"
Gladio snorts. "Well, we can't all be lazy, just sitting back, taking pot shots from a distance." He continues to smirk while Prompto splutters. Silently, Gladio’s thinks Good, keep it up. And if I could keep Noct and Ignis out of the heart of combat as well, believe me I would. But who says something like that out loud?!
Later, know matter how much Prompto reminds himself they were just joking around, that he was even the one who started giving shit in the first place, he can’t get the remark out of his head—Is he taking it easy? Not actually doing enough? Maybe that’s how the others all really feel?
Next day, while out on a hunt, they get jumped by an MT squad. Prompto falls back as he normally does, offering cover fire. But the niggling doubt remains, worming its way farther up with every shot fired.
From his vantage, Prompto's the only one to notice the pack of Voretooth--their original prey--a lot closer than they’d realized. Drawn by the sounds of combat, looking only seconds away from wreaking utter havoc with the ongoing fight.
Prompto decides to head them off at the pass. On his own.
The others are just mopping up the last of the MTs when they realize the gun fire hasn’t stopped despite the lack of enemy. Noct arrives just in time to finish off the last Voretooth--its injured but still appears determined to take the lone troublesome gunmen down with it.
Prompto manages stays on his feet long enough to shoot Gladio a smile as he and Ignis burst into the clearing, hot on Noct's heels.
“Who’s lazy now?”
