Work Text:
once
The Garulessa knocks Prompto into next week, but it’s only after Gladio has sent it careening with a single, solid swing to snout, and reached down to help Prompto off his ass, that Prompto gets knocked into next month, next century, next universe.
There’s sunshine coming up behind Gladio: an iridescent halo against copper-stained tangles of hair, his tawny eyes turned amber in backlight, the muscles along his arm flexing as he pulls Prompto to his feet in one smooth move. He looks like a steamy romance novel’s cover boy; all hard muscle and soft smiles. He looks like a bad boy, a good boy, a yes-please boy all wrapped up in one easy-tear package. He looks like how Prompto always feels: trouble.
“How you doing, Blondie?” Gladio asks with that rough and rumble timbre of his.
I’m gay, Prompto’s brain stammers, even though he’s really, so, so very bi and so proud of it.
What he says is a pretty eloquent: “Eh.”
Gladio looks unimpressed, clicking his tongue and gripping Prompto by the crook of his elbow. “Iggy!” he hollers, pulling Prompto over to where Ignis and Noct are standing over the hunt. Noct has already dissipated his Engine Blade into the armiger and looks over immediately, but Ignis has to brace a foot against the garulessa to wrench Gae Bolg free. “Need a potion.”
Ignis’ gaze hooks over Prompto, just like the fancy magical security scan at the Citadel, and Prompto turns bright red; his slacks are coated back and front with mud, and he stinks of Garula guts. Ignis, by comparison, looks perfect, even with his hair out of place, and a tempting tear in his shirt. Honestly, he looks even better with the dishevelled hair, and shirt torn off his chest, that’s so not fair.
“What’s wrong?” Ignis asks. Noct already has a potion in hand and shoots Ignis a sharp look.
“Prompto got rattled,” Gladio informs Ignis dutifully, both hands on Prompto’s shoulder.
Oh Baheezus, Gladio thinks he’s hurt!
Prompto jerks, but under Gladio’s tight grasp he can’t twitch an inch. “No, no!” he yelps. Ignis pushes his glasses up and stares at him appraisingly, which only reminds Prompto that he’s the weak-link in Noct’s security fence, he’s the one that’s gonna get Noct killed. “I’m good! Really! We gotta save the potions!”
Must not be that convincing, because Ignis tuts, “did you check for concussion?”
“It just happened,” Gladio huffs. “I was gonna.”
“Nevermind that, I’ll examine him.”
“It’s one potion,” Noctis pushes past and even gets Prompto’s fingers wrapped around the pop bottle before Prompto can even properly tell him no, he’s fine. Really. “And it’s my boyfriend.” Noct’s hand squeezes around his, crushing the potion with a fizz of magic.
Noct is his best friend, Noct is his best boyfriend. Noct is beautiful, and kind, brave, utterly the sweetest dork that Prompto knows. Noct is everything his history promises him to be, and he’s more than that, because he’s good all the way through, like properly, like for real.
And Prompto is weak-kneed for the two men who Noct trusts more than anyone.
Prompto is… Prompto is the worst.
twice
He knows he’s being too quiet when they set up camp, because Noct is flashing him odd looks, and Ignis purses his lips when Prompto tries to duck out of dinner. How exactly is he supposed to eat when all his usual butterflies have food poisoning?
And it isn’t fair either, because Gladiolus “Never met a Shirt he Liked” Amicitia strips down in the ruddy sunset to put the tent up, and Ignis squeezes Prompto’s thigh as he coaxes him to choke down some dinner. Is it any wonder that Prompto scarpers off to the tent early, just to escape Noct’s stupid sexy retinue, and even then he’s straight up cornered by Noctis— stupid sexy Noctis —instead.
“Thought you were gonna go fish before bed.”
“My back’s sore,” Noct deflects, wriggling over to look at Prompto properly. He reaches out to cup Prompto’s cheek, thumb pad rubbing in slow circles. “You okay, baby?”
Baby, Prompto’s brain squeaks hysterically. Noct and him. Him and Noct, they’re new. They’re really new, and still feeling each other up- out! Just. It’s too new for Prompto to be ogling Noct’s shield and hand. Which he should never, ever, ever do anyway, but especially not when he still doesn’t know what Noctis even sees in him.
“Yeah dude. I’m always okay,” Prompto croaks, and smiles his best, “you know me.”
“Yeah,” Noct doesn’t look away, and doesn’t look reassured, “I do know you.”
It bubbles out like a shaken-up can of soft drink. Spluttering all down Prompto’s front and making a mess. “I kinda. Gladio was,” Noct’s face darkens and Prompto hastily tries to clear the Shield’s name, “he’s just really attractive!”
Noct’s eyes grow huge. Immediately, Prompto’s heart kicks him in his ribs, and he helplessly insists, “but- but I didn’t do anything. I just looked. That’s all.”
Prompto watches in horror as Noct curls against the bedroll, and his shoulders shake. Abrupt, he realizes that Noct is not crying. He’s laughing.
“Noct!” Prompto hisses.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Noct hiccoughs, wheezing hard and rolling onto his back to clutch at his stomach. “With how you were acting, I-” Noct snorts hard. “I just thought it had to be something bad.”
“It is bad!” Prompto whines.
“It’s not, it’s not, ah—” Noct is still struggling to seize his breath, but he rolls back towards Prompto and reels him in with an arm around his waist. “Gladio is pretty hot, huh. Don’t tell him though, his head’ll get so big.”
Prompto’s brain gives a spark like a hotwired car. “Wait.” What. “You think Gladio’s hot?”
“Well,” Noct rolls a shoulder, “yeah.” He must still be goggling at Noctis in shock, because Noct rubs at his side in that slow way that does not calm Prompto. “I don’t care if you think Gladio’s good looking. He is.”
The shock is almost more distracting than the guilt, so Prompto mumbles; “Ignis too.”
“Yeah,” Noct doesn’t bat an eyelid, just nods. “He’s really handsome.”
“Really?” Prompto still can’t quite get a grip on what’s going on, so he curls his hand on Noct’s shoulder and squeezes to ground himself. Noct gives an appreciative sigh, and another nod.
“Yeah. I uh—” Noct’s gaze flicks over Prompto’s face, a hint of worry there. “I um. Actually asked Ignis out. Once.”
“That…” Prompto licks his lips, slow and careful, parsing what Noct just said. “That actually… I can see that.” Awkward, he prompts, “what- ah. What did. Um.”
“He turned me down, of course,” Noct fiddles with Prompto’s tanktop, brushing his fingertips over and under the material distractedly. “He didn’t feel the same. And I was like fourteen, so… this was ages ago.”
Noct means that it was so long ago, it’s nothing for Prompto to worry about. He means that it didn’t matter, and that maybe it doesn’t hurt. He’s playing it cool, even careful, like it’s just something silly he did when he was a kid, but Prompto’s loved Noct for years. He knows how it feels. Knows how it stays. Knows how Noct feels, even when he’s trying to play something down.
Prompto loves Noct, so much, and he can’t help it. He pulls Noct into his arms, close enough to snuffle into Noct’s shoulder. “M’sorry, Noct.”
At first, Noctis stiffens in Prompto’s arms, tensing in a shudder. Then he melts again, like he always does, pushing up against him, and nuzzling close. He’s warm, and smells like salt and sweat and that magical tang of ozone.
“I don’t regret it,” Noct admits, “I put myself out there. For better or worse.” Noct rubs his cheek along Prompto’s jaw like a cat. “And I have you, baby.” And then he says the impossible that makes Prompto’s breath hitch, “and if you wanna date Gladio too, I’m for it.”
Confusion spills down Prompto’s spine, “huh?”
“And Ignis,” Noct adds, lips moving along Prompto’s jaw this time, blotting out Prompto’s thoughts into a gorgeous haze.
thrice
Prompto doesn’t like to confront people, but Noct always seems to shake his marbles funny, and he’s thinking about Noct’s sad little of course, his heartbroken for better or worse. And Ignis let Noct sleep in, even when Gladio scoffed. And Ignis is making Noct’s favourite breakfast. And Ignis always looks at Noct with such lingering care. Ignis, who Prompto had been so sure loved Noct, that he was kinda shocked they weren’t a thing. Noct who had been so sad and small and hurt last night.
So Prompto puts his foot in it halfway through prep. One minute, he’s listening to Iggy instruct him on how fine to chop, whilst Gladio makes coffee. Next minute, Prompto is asking in a rude, snide tone, “So what’s wrong with Noct?”
Immediately, Ignis’ eyes snap over, concern clear and sharp in his face. “Something is wrong with Noctis?”
“Well something must have been, or you wouldn’t have kicked his heart in the balls,” Prompto is too angry to be clear; Iggy can figure it out, cause Prompto sure can’t. Over his head, Gladio and Ignis trade meaningful looks.
“Got something to say?” Gladio offers Iggy his ebony. Of course, by now Prompto sort of regrets opening his mouth in the first place, so now he’s just going to keep it shut.
It doesn’t do any good though, because Ignis sighs knowingly, “this is about my turning Noct down.”
“You’re kidding,” Gladio frowns, looking between them. “That was seven years ago. Noct was a kid.”
“Yeah, well it still hurts him,” Prompto blurts out, voice low but pissed. He glares hot and furious at Ignis. “I don’t get it. You love him, right, so, what—”
“Prom,” Ignis says with a quiet edge that Prompto doesn’t recognize. He’s trying to calm him though. “Noctis loves you, and is with you.”
“I know!” Prompto’s tears are thick and messy, and by the time this is over, he just knows he’s going to be a snot-monster. “Just— you two shoulda’ been together.”
“It was complicated,” Ignis says, sounding so careful and cold that Prompto gives a gurgling, angry sob. “Noct was very young, and he was- is -my responsibility.”
“He’s not—” Prompto has to wipe his nose, but he glares at Ignis. “Noct’s s’not a responsibility.” Ignis is the worst, not Prompto, because Ignis doesn’t even look like it’s affecting him, and it should.
So it knocks Prompto over, very metaphorically, when Ignis jerks his head to the side so Prompto can’t see a tear under the glint of the glasses— “Are you…?”
“Prom,” Gladio interrupts. “We know he’s not.”
Too shocked to do anything, but just stare— that and feel guiltier than ever, because it rocks into Prompto honestly and obviously; Ignis loves Noct just as much as he does, and where Noct has no regrets, Ignis… Ignis has many.
“You… you should tell him,” Prompto says with a voice that doesn’t feel like his own. “Cause the Regalia has four seats, and two hands- I mean, Noct has two hands, and— he said. He said. Ignis. You have to tell him, cause he… cause he did the first time and you hurt him.” Ignis hasn’t said anything, until finally Prompto says with a broken knot in his throat, “please.”
Breakfast is slowly burning and Ignis turns the stovetop off numbly. The smoke coming off it draws Noct stumbling from the tent, and he freezes sleepily, taking in Prompto’s face flushed with tears, Ignis staring at the floor sniffling and Gladio awkwardly standing between them.
“Uh. Guys…?” Noctis finally prompts.
“Blondie and I are going for a run,” Gladio says abruptly, pushing Ignis towards Noct firmly. “And you two need to talk.” With that, he drags Prompto down the side of the Haven, and off into the underbrush. Staring back over his shoulder, Prompto sees them step closer together, just for a moment, and a bright feeling slams into Prompto, so bright it takes his breath away.
Gladio notices, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, “that good feeling in your chest?” It’s not exactly in Prompto’s chest, but he nods. “That’s called compersion.”
“Oh,” Prompto doesn’t know what that means, but turns pink as Gladio begins his pre-run stretches. “Cool.”
Gladio is still in a deep lunge that makes Prompto’s mouth dry, when he grins at Prompto, and kicks the breath right back out of him. “By the way, if you two are taking apps, I’ve always had the wildest fucking crush on you.”