Chapter Text
Gladio was still up to his father’s knee when his father began telling him stories of his grand road trip with his King and his closest friends and comrades. The young boy would beg to hear it again and again, eyes shining on the Amicitia parlour rug as his father regaled his son with the story for the millionth time.
"One day, you too will serve a place in the Prince's circle," his father always concluded, "And your bonds will be stronger than any friendship under the light of the Crystal."
Asleep in his bed with dreams filled of his adventures with his King and companions, he never heard the conversations between his parents that followed.
“I’m curious to see what will come out of those stories you’ve filled our son’s head with, my love,” his mother would softly whisper as she peeked through his door frame,
“I can’t see what else could happen Aster, apart from the boy gaining a sense of dedication,” said his father, “He’ll most likely grow out of it anyhow,”
“Oh, I don’t know Clarus,” his mother shut the door behind them. She pushed a lock of her thick, dark hair behind her ear, and she stroked her stomach with a gentle smile. Soon, Gladiolus would have a sibling to bond with too. “Gladiolus can be pretty headstrong.”
“Stubborn, you mean, dear,”
“Just like his father," she said with a small laugh, then she added, as they walked into their bedroom, "But you should tell him something lighter next time."
"Such as?"
She hummed, and there was a sparkle in her golden eyes as she lowered herself to bed.
"Something where our children can gain a sense of romance."
Through the years his father's stories continued, featuring additional characters like the Shield's beloved wife, their exuberant son and soon, a precious daughter. The stories grew shorter as their father grew busier, but he persisted, even after his wife's passing, until Gladio was too big to sit at his feet. Although the dramatism in each retelling faded as Gladio grew older, the significance of his father’s bonds with King and comrades did not. And as he began his training with the Crownsguard, his dream to forge lifelong bonds with the King he’ll serve and his comrades only grew stronger.
The stubbornness of his Prince was at first a hindrance to this goal, but with time, Noctis displayed a reluctant commitment to his role that Gladio had to acknowledge.
A more onerous challenge however, was the unmovable object, Ignis Scientia.
Introduced to the other boy as children, Ignis had only ever been cold and aloof, replying to Gladio's curious questions with strained responses and an upturned nose, looking nothing more than uncomfortable being in the young Shield-to-be’s presence.
To be fair, their roles, their grooming and their training through the years ran parallel to each other, their paths never quite cleanly meeting, so there were minimal chances for Gladio to get to know Ignis better. And it would be presumptuous to hold a grudge over the guy he's meant to spend the rest of his life with, when Gladio hadn’t really given him much of a chance. Not that Ignis had given Gladio much of a chance either.
On the eve of celebrating his admission to the Crownsguard, Gladio overheard that Ignis would be following suit soon after. And Gladio figured, why not give it another go? They’ll only be spending more time together as they prepare to more thoroughly train to fill their roles in Noctis’s life.
"I'm gonna do it Dad," declared Gladio through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. Months had passed since his high school graduation, and shortly after then, his own Crownsguard admission, and he'd had time to take stock of his new training schedule, his own specialised education as Shield to the Prince, and any university classes of interest he could fill into the gaps.
"Do what?" asked Clarus. He lifted his coffee mug to his lips, a pair of glasses perched on his nose which he peered through to read the morning paper.
"Make friends with Ignis, and forge 'em lifelong bonds,"
Clarus chuckled, and laid the paper down in front of him, "And here I thought you'd outgrown that story."
“The story? Maybe,” Gladio poured himself a glass of orange juice, "But the bonds? Not until I forge ‘em,"
Clarus shook his head and picked up his paper again, “You don’t do anything by halves do you Gladiolus?”
“Nope.”
On a warm Wednesday afternoon, Gladio strutted past the training hall doors, completely lackadaisical, and regarded the door handles with mock surprise, as if he hadn't snooped through the training hall bookings the week before to see if Ignis would be using them. He pulled the door open to reveal that the training hall bookings were indeed accurate, for there was Ignis, in a plain white tank top moving through his drills that showed off a pair of lean arms and defined muscle. Gladio blinked slowly, and moved to sit on a bench a small distance away, whistling as he regarded the training hall’s ceilings and floors.
The fuck am I doing?
"Can I help you?" asked Ignis.
Gladio jumped in his seat. He hadn’t heard him approach, nor noticed how quickly Ignis had cleared their distance in such a small amount of time.
"Nah, I just wanted to talk! I’ll let you finish first though."
"Is this about Noct?"
"No?"
For a split second Ignis's eyes narrowed in suspicion and Gladio was sure then that he'd turn down the offer to even just talk, but then Ignis walked up closer to stand in front Gladio, close enough that his shadow loomed over him and that Gladio could smell him. Most guys stink like three week old socks half an hour into any workout.
Not Ignis.
"I'm taking a break anyway," said Ignis, and Gladio noticed the way his eyes briefly blinked down at the old trainers Gladio wore and how he scrunched his nose right after, "What did you need from me?"
Like any good commander of the battlefield, Gladio planned this out, with a speech written word for word on a post-it in his hoodie. They would go and see a movie together first, give them something to talk about to get the ball rolling, then if Ignis hadn't gotten sick of his company yet, they could go for a walk somewhere nice and talk some more.
Though he probably ruined his first impression with Ignis long ago, it wouldn’t hurt his case for friendship at all if he showed Ignis that he was organised and meticulous, but that he had plenty of options ready as well, so he can also be spontaneous. Flexible to new situations. Shit, maybe he should’ve just sent Ignis his résumé.
Ignis regarded him with a cold stare, a piercing green glare pointed downwards past his nose and at Gladio.
"Well?" he asked.
"Wanna go out with me some time?" was what tumbled out of Gladio's mouth instead.
Ah shit.
He was ready to take it back, but Ignis’s brow slowly relaxed. He stepped back from Gladio, and his cheeks rapidly grew red—or were they already from his workout?—and his eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"Yes," came Ignis's abrupt and breathless answer, "Yes, I'd like that very much,"
"Right so next weekend?” said Gladio, his mind reeling at how quick that response was, "Will that work?”
Ignis’s mouth drew into a thin worried line, and he held his chin in his hand, "I’ll have to see.”
“How about this, gimme your phone.”
Ignis pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Gladio. Gladio punched his number in and added his name to Ignis’s contact list.
“There you go, now call my phone so I have your number.”
Ignis did as he was told with fumbling fingers.
“Let me know if next weekend works for you then we’ll work out what we’re doing yeah?”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Ignis, “Thank you Gladiolus.”
For what?
“No worries,” said Gladio, “And just Gladio’s fine.”
"I’ll let you know then,” Ignis’s eyes darted to the side, “Gladio.”
And for the first time in the years they've known of each other's existence, Ignis looked back at him straight in the eye and gave him a warm smile.
That… was easier than expected?
Next weekend was indeed free for Ignis, so they agreed on a time and a meeting place. The pressure to impress was on when Ignis let Gladio choose what movie to see—"I'm not quite up to speed with what's new," he had said over the phone—and after careful deliberation, Gladio chose one of the horror flicks with a late afternoon screening slot.
What better way to bond with a friend than under intense fear and adrenaline?
On the day of their proposed hang out, Gladio scratched his head in front of his wardrobe, fresh out of the shower and in his underwear. Ignis was a well put together guy, and he’d probably expect the same level of effort from someone he deigned worthy to spend his time with.
With a laboured sigh, Gladio pulled on a pair of dark jeans, it's hard to find any in his size that also had room for his massive thighs, and even then this pair knew how to cling, and a thin plain gray ribbed sweater—a safe style and shade, and the ribbing contoured the shirt around his biceps and chest nicely without strain. He tossed on a black leather jacket he found at the back of his closet, combed and set the top part of his undercut in place with gel and slipped on a pair of his cleanest boots, which were rare for Gladio if he were to be honest, so he's really pulling all the stops for Ignis here, and stood in front of his mirror to check himself out.
He crossed his arms and looked at the mirror, and his reflection scowled back at him. His eyes travelled back into his wardrobe and landed on an unopened bottle of cologne in his top shelf, which had been a present for his eighteenth birthday.
That’d be a bit much right?
But then again, Ignis still smelled like he’d just stepped out of a shower that afternoon in the training halls, and that was in the middle of a workout.
He unwrapped the box from its shrink wrapping with a sigh, popped the bottle out of its box and pulled at the collar of his shirt so he could spray at his neck and then at his wrists. After a few more cautious glances at his mirror, he lumbered down the stairs to the hall and to the living room, patting his pockets for his keys and his wallet.
"I'm heading out," said Gladio,
"Ooh are you going on a date?" cooed Iris from the sofa. She shuffled to turn around on the sofa and leaned her elbows against the backrest to examine her brother, her eyes inquisitively scanning him from head to toe.
"What, no I'm just hanging out with Ignis,"
"Oh," she turned back to her TV program, having lost all interest, "You look nice though,” she sniffed the air, “Is that cologne?"
"Thanks I guess?" Gladio frowned, "And yeah. Y'think it's a bit much?”
“I’m sure Ignis’ll like it,” said Iris, with a playful lilt to her voice, “Have fun Gladdy,”
"I will, thanks Iris,"
He thought nothing of their exchange as he exited his house and caught the metro up to the nearest cinema. Driving would've been an option, but his Dad had the car. Besides, walking meant he and Ignis would have more time to chat. The metro pulled up at his stop and it was only a short walk up to the cinema, where a figure stood away from the rest of the crowds lined up at the ticket window.
"Hey Ignis!" Gladio called out with a wave.
Ignis's head jolted up from his phone and he responded with a weak wave in return, before walking over to stand in front of Gladio with careful and wooden steps.
"Were you waiting long?" asked Gladio,
"No, not at all," said Ignis. He lifted his eyes slowly up from Gladio’s shoes, lingering over his chest, and then up at his eyes, only to not quite properly meet them, "I had only just gotten here."
Truth be told, Gladio wouldn’t have recognised Ignis in the crowd. He had a jacket draped over one arm, and wore a sweater a deep shade of olive over a light grey button down shirt—linen, so officially the most casual shirt Gladio has seen Ignis in—with the top button undone, his sleeves folded up to his elbows and his dark jeans cuffed over a pair of brown brogues. He caught the scent of Ignis's perfume—smoky, with the hint of spice and vanilla—and thanked the gods for his and Iris's foresight to use his cologne.
Gladio didn’t even know Ignis owned jeans.
He looked good.
"You look good," Ignis blurted out, cutting Gladio's thoughts short.
"Thanks?" said Gladio, in the same questioning tone for the second time that evening. He scratched the back of his head. Hey, friends give friends compliments. He and the other recruits complimented each other in the lockers all the time, but often with rough slaps on the back to accompany it, "You look nice too."
Ignis looked up to meet his eyes for a brief second, his eyes wide with surprise, only to avert them again, "Thank you."
Gladio gave him a weak nod. Upon closer inspection, Ignis's cheeks looked liked they'd been rubbed red. Perhaps he had been waiting out in the cold for too long.
"Come on,” said Gladio. He patted Ignis’s shoulder, gently, not like the roughhousing he did with recruits in the locker room, “Let's get inside."
Gladio paid for their tickets, and they bought enough popcorn and large drinks to feed an entire family, I have a big appetite, Gladio reasoned, only for Gladio to panic and backtrack on his purchases when Ignis insisted on paying for all their food. It was only fair , Ignis argued.
The conflict of their purchases aside, they entered the movie theatre and settled into their seats. Gladio glanced around at the other people in the cinema. A number of them were couples, using the horror movie as an excuse to hold each other tight, even before the opening trailers were over. Gladio chuckled. That’s clever .
"Have you seen the reviews for this one?" Gladio muttered as the opening credits started,
"I can't say I have. Have you?"
“Nope,” Gladio pulled off his jacket and relaxed into his seat.
If they had thought to look at the reviews beforehand, they would've known that the film was plain terrifying.
Early into the movie the jump scares were cheap and predictable, and Gladio would lean over the arm rest and joke about the special effects in Ignis's ear, and he’d grin whenever he successfully teased out a nervous laugh from the other man. But soon, the movie picked up its pace, and it left Gladio recoiling in his seat away from the movie screen with a hand held over the side of his face every few scenes.
The smile Ignis shot over their armrests was smug, his face illuminated by the glow of the cinema screen.
"I thought you said it wasn't scary," he whispered in Gladio’s ear across the armrest,
"Well yeah,” hissed Gladio, “Up until the thing with the missing legs just fuckin' jumped out,"
Midway through the film, the movie eased off the scares, and there was a lull in the music and the screams, which so far had felt like they went on forever, giving Gladio a moment of reprieve to release the tension in his muscles.
But then the movie protagonist rounded a corner, and the suspenseful music drew into a crescendo.
A hand gripped Gladio’s wrist and he jolted in his seat.
"Apologies," murmured Ignis as he retracted his hand,
“It’s fine,'" said Gladio, his heart thumping in his chest, "Not such a tough guy now are we Iggy?"
"Bloody hell— " was Ignis's only retort to that, and he wedged his face between Gladio's seat and shoulder, gripped Gladio's bicep with one hand and cupped his other hand over his eyes. The weight of Gladio's sweater was so thin, he could feel how hot Ignis's grip was around his bicep.
The corner of Gladio's lip twitched.
That’s kinda cute.
“You alright there Iggy?”
"Is it gone?" came the flat muffled voice against Gladio’s shoulder,
"Yep, you can open your eyes now,"
The weight behind his shoulder eased off as Ignis pulled himself off him to settle back in his seat, his deep breaths audible over the total silence of the ensuing scene. The protagonist had locked himself into a shed, away from the hellish ghoul, and the two boys’ eyes were glued to the screen as they watched the protagonist survey his hiding spot.
Ignis’s pinky brushed against Gladio’s.
The protagonist turned to the shed window, and emerging from the bushes was the ghoul—the thing with the missing legs, Gladio yelled out loud—which broke through the window with a blood curdling scream, the shatter of the glass and the protagonist’s cries echoing throughout the cinema.
" Fuck—!"
"You said it was gone!"
A warm hand gripped the back of Gladio’s.
He could only smile for a split second as Ignis pressed his face into Gladio’s shoulder again—there was no time to figure out either if his racing heart was from the movie or from every squeeze of Ignis’s hand in his—because the ghoul had started to do very creative things with the protagonist’s innards, and Gladio clamped his eyes shut, squeezing Ignis’s hand in return throughout the protagonist’s final screams, not once letting go until the credits.
"That was…"
"That was horrendous," Ignis supplied. His cheeks were still flushed red, in an even deeper shade than before, "How was that film's release even legal?"
The theatre wasn't that cold was it? It hadn't been too warm either.
"I swear the trailer wasn't that scary when I saw it,"
"I suppose they were saving it for the actual film," Ignis fiddled with his lapels before settling his pea jacket over his shoulders, "I apologise for, um— For grabbing you so much."
"What? No! That’s all part of going out to see a horror movie with someone. " Gladio swatted his hand, "Wanna get a bite to eat?"
Ignis agreed with a quiet nod. They exited the cinema out into the cold autumn air, the afternoon having given way to the early evening. Down the streets dotted with street lights starting to flicker on, they walked in stride to the nearby plaza, which was lined with several cafes and food trucks.
Again, Ignis defaulted to Gladio’s choice, but Gladio still cast nervous glances at Ignis as they perused the outdoor menus of each place. Despite his careful deliberation, he ended up choosing a simple kebab truck. Ignis watched with fascination as the man at the back of the truck shaved meat off a large vertical spit, laying it out with an abundance of vegetables and sauces on a piece of flatbread which he rolled up and wrapped in a paper bag, whilst Gladio ordered and paid for their food from the other man at the front window.
They sat on one of the benches along the plaza and unwrapped their food, and Gladio could barely suppress a smile from watching Ignis try as humanely possible, neatly eat the kebab he held in his hand.
Something was off about Ignis this evening.
When Gladio planned this evening out, his worst case scenario was, and a good Shield always had a worst case scenario, Ignis would be standoffish, he'd hate the movie, he’d roll his eyes at Gladio’s boorishness and he’d leave as soon as he was politely able.
Instead, here he was, studying his kebab with an intense gaze as he navigated through it, like it was a problem he needed to solve and his face still bright red. He didn’t even sneer at Gladio’s meal choice, only politely accepted it with a small thank you. He was quiet, but not like the self-assured young man who held himself like he was above sparing Gladio any breath to speak with him. But rather he was skittish, his silence backed by a nervous energy while he avoided Gladio’s gaze, and often flinching at Gladio’s inadvertent touches.
"Do you watch a lot of horror movies then?" asked Ignis out of the blue,
"Not really. Just saw the ad and I thought I'd see that one with you," said Gladio with a shrug, "Why? Did ya hate it?"
"Oh, no, not at all," Ignis bowed his head, "It was horrifying, but it wasn't bad."
They ate their food and it seemed Gladio’s plan to watch a… topical movie was coming together, with their conversation shaping itself around the movie, the casting, the music, the realistic special effects, all the while Gladio reassured Ignis that it was fine if he made a bit of a mess—kebabs are just messy to eat—whilst he handed him napkins.
Eventually they finished their food and threw their wrappers away in a nearby bin, effectively wrapping up their conversation with it. Ignis looked dejectedly at his phone lock screen.
Shit, was he bored?
"It's still early," said Gladio, "If you don’t have anything else you need to do, wanna grab something warm to drink and go for a walk somewhere?"
Ignis visibly brightened, nodding his head in silence before walking with Gladio to a nearby café.
They ordered a takeaway hot chocolate each and Gladio led them away from the plaza and into a park a few blocks away, where even in the early evening it was still teeming with families out for a stroll with their children or their dogs, and interestingly enough, more couples holding hands, and Gladio noted with interest how Ignis's head tracked each one.
They walked down the park footpaths and, all according to plan, they made small talk. Gladio had his own list of conversation topics on hand so that there wouldn’t be any risk of any awkward silences that could lead to Ignis’s eventual evaluation that Gladio was indeed, boring and shallow, but Ignis seemed to stumble upon different topics, in a tone of casual surprise like how one would stumble upon a trail of coins along a path.
“The weather’s been awfully chilly lately,”
“Gonna be a cold winter this year, I bet,” said Gladio. He tucked his elbows closer to his sides, mindful of how his hand kept brushing against Ignis's.
"By the way," Ignis said,
"Yeah?"
"You're sporting a very pleasant scent this evening," stated Ignis,
"You sayin' I don't smell nice any other time?" said Gladio, his grin both amused at the robotic quality to Ignis's compliment, but sheepish from receiving a compliment from him.
"No— I meant— You don't smell bad any other time— Which isn't to say I go around trying to smell you—"
"I get it Iggy, I'm just messin' with ya," Gladio laughed, "But thanks. You—" Gladio scratched his head, "Smell nice too?"
“Thank you,” Ignis muttered, then he added, like he was wondering out loud, “You called me ‘Iggy' earlier in the cinema too."
“Sorry 'bout that, ” Gladio frowned as he kept to Ignis’s strides, “I heard Noct say it once. I can stop if it bothers you.”
“No— It’s fine— Noct's the only other person who calls me nicknames,” Ignis stammered, “It was nice,”
“You don’t mind if I keep doing it then?”
“I don’t mind,” said Ignis, “I quite like it.”
Nickname basis! Gladio was getting somewhere.
They walked in silence, and Gladio mentally reached into his own repertoire of questions—
“Oh!” Ignis exclaimed, and Gladio smiled at his uncharacteristic sound of surprise, “What were the origins of the food we just ate? I've never seen meat be prepared or served as such before,”
“I'm not entirely sure," said Gladio, and he couldn't help his amused grin, "Pretty sure it's a Galahdian thing to have the meat on the spit like that. Don't each much from the plaza do you?"
"Not all that much, no," Ignis pursed his lips and shook his head, and Gladio watched from his peripheral vision as he furrowed his brow again.
“How’s—” Gladio began, “Is work—” Ignis blurted out,
“My apologies—” “Sorry—”
Ignis clamped his mouth shut and Gladio scratched his head.
“You go first,” said Gladio,
“I was going to ask if work’s picked up, now that you’ve graduated and have been admitted into the Crownsguard.”
“I’d say so yeah, I’ve been shadowing Cor a bit more too,” Gladio’s hand knocked against Ignis’s, so he moved it away, “And you? You’re getting ready to join up soon too right?”
“That’s correct,” said Ignis with a nod, “I’ve been busy with preparing for the tests,”
“Lemme know if you need someone to spar with!" said Gladio with a wink, "I could give you some insider tips,”
“That would be helpful,” stuttered Ignis.
As they continued their walk through the park, Gladio noticed the way Ignis’s eyes darted to the corner at his direction, his brow once again lined in deep thought as the silence slowly crept back between them.
Gladio’s hand knocked against Ignis’s again.
"Gladiolus," Ignis said partway through a thought,
“Yeah?” Gladio halted in his tracks, and eyed the hand that Ignis placed on his arm,
He lifted his head up, but kept his eyes glued to the necklace on Gladio’s chest, and his voice was almost too soft to hear.
"Could we hold hands?" he asked.
The driver in Gladio's brain must’ve slammed on the brakes, as all semblance of thought came to a screeching halt, and the only sound in the sudden silence was the echo of Ignis’s words replaying in his head.
Bright green eyes looked up at him expectantly.
Iris held hands with her friends. Girls held hands with their friends all the time. Why couldn't Gladio and Ignis? He was probably still scared from the torture Gladio put him through at the cinema too, and Gladio was a good friend, he'll hold his hand through it.
There was a term for it wasn’t there, where you strengthen your bonds through the physical contact between your friends?
"Sure," Gladio responded with a shrug, extending his free hand out to Ignis. Ignis took it in his, carefully, like he was testing its weight, before he settled it against his side. Against the hard calluses of Gladio’s hand, Ignis’s skin was soft and his palm was hot.
"Are you feelin' okay by the way?" asked Gladio, "You're really warm."
"I'm— I'm fine, I'm just," said Ignis with a sigh, "This is all a bit new to me."
A sharp pain stabbed through Gladio's chest.
H anging out with friends is new to Ignis?
"Well get used to it!” Gladio chuckled, “‘Cause there'll be a lot more of this from me!"
Stumbling in his step next to him, Ignis tugged lightly at Gladio's hand, and Gladio looked down at his companion.
Ignis smiled up at him, his cheeks rising high and his eyes squinting to a brilliant sliver of green.
A hitch caught in Gladio’s throat. It's the most genuine smile Gladio had ever seen on Ignis in the years they've known each other.
"I look forward to it," said Ignis in a small voice.
They found another bench in the park where they drank their hot beverages, and that was when it seemed like Ignis had his own laundry list of questions to work through, asking Gladio about what his classes were like for the coming semester, how his father and Iris were doing, what his training schedule was like—which he then lined up with Gladio’s so they could find a time to train together—then talked about what they got up to besides their classes now that school was done.
Ignis’s sudden curiosity perplexed Gladio, but Gladio was just as eager to connect with a new friend. They’ve known of each other’s existence for so long and yet this was the longest sustained conversation Ignis has ever had with him, so Gladio answered each question best as he could and threw them back at Ignis, and Ignis would hum, impressed at the advanced classes Gladio would be taking, or Gladio would let out a low whistle at Ignis’s modest admission of accelerating through a Bachelor's degree.
The weight in Gladio’s chest lightened. He’d been so nervous all day that there would be nothing to talk about, but even if Ignis wasn’t so hellbent in digging up every detail about Gladio as he seemed to now, they bounced topics off each other with relative ease.
Why hadn’t it been this easy before?
Gladio readjusted his seating and released Ignis's hand, and for a moment Ignis was crestfallen, until Gladio draped his arm across the back of the bench, and Ignis scooted closer as they touched on topics that inched further away from work. Ignis’s favourite books, Gladio’s favourite food, what their hobbies were. Ignis had never been camping before, his uncle never really had the time to take him since Ignis had come to live in Insomnia. Gladio learned to cook a few simple recipes from his mother, but it would be nice to learn with someone again. Gladio's booming laughter at Ignis's wit and dry humour made other passing park visitors jump. Ignis's gaze softened at the fondness in Gladio's voice when he spoke of Iris, and even more amusing to Ignis, of Noctis.
Sitting on a bench next to Ignis, his normally tense shoulders relaxed against Gladio’s arm, and the stern brow he often fixed Noctis with done away with, Gladio could only come to one conclusion.
Ignis wasn’t such a bad guy.
From a very young age he was thrust into the responsibility for the guidance of another child, a Crown Prince at that, and surrounded by adults with only the Prince as his source of social contact in his age group. It wrenched Gladio's chest to hear no mention of any other friends as Ignis quietly detailed his working week and how he passed the time by.
From what Gladio recalled, Ignis accelerated through the prep school he was sent to, where he would’ve been three or four years younger than everyone around him. He was constantly proving himself to be worthy of a place in Noctis's life, that his peers would've failed to see that he didn't hold himself in higher esteem over others the way they thought he did.
And at first blush, the way Gladio once thought he did.
Ignis was shy, just like how any other teenager should be allowed to be and grow into, with the help of a solid group of friends who could help him out of his shell. He just needed that group of friends. And Gladio had bonds he was keen to forge.
Their conversations trailed off in breathy laughter, long after they reached the bottom of the takeaway cups.
"Is there a time I need to get you home by?" asked Gladio,
The light of a phone screen glowed between them as Ignis checked his phone, and that dejected downturn of his lips was back. Gladio would probably even call it a pout.
“We should probably head off now if I want to make it to my train on time," murmured Ignis, "I have another early start tomorrow."
"On a weekend?"
Ignis nodded.
“I’d say that sucked, but I’d probably have to start doing that soon,” Gladio stretched his arms out in a yawn, “Alright, let’s get going,”
They rose from the bench, and Ignis's brows perked up when Gladio took his hand in his again.
They talked about their plans for the week as they walked to the nearest metro stop, with Gladio trying to process exactly why he chose to take Ignis’s hand again while they got on the first train on Ignis’s line, the contrast of the train car’s heating pronounced against their cold skin having come in from the autumn chill. They took their seats near the rattling doors, their hands still clasped in each other’s.
The evening rush hour was long gone, and Gladio's eyes scanned around the train car at the other passengers, half on instinct, partly out of curiosity. An elderly lady sat knitting by the corner, next to a couple of businessmen coming home from their overtime, and just like in the park, there were a few couples sitting or standing around the train car, their heads against the other's shoulders, and hands interlinked on each other's laps. A few of them murmured their conversations. The rest sat in silence, weary after a long day.
A weight slumped against Gladio’s shoulder.
With his eyes fluttering closed, Ignis’s head leaned against Gladio’s shoulder, dead to the world beyond the warm body against him.
Something flickered on in Gladio’s chest.
Do I wake him?
But there was no sign of the crease and stern lines that normally took residence between Ignis’s eyebrows, his sleeping face serene under the harsh white light of the train car.
The elderly lady smiled at Gladio over her knitting. Gladio responded with a friendly nod.
For the next few stops, Gladio sat still with Ignis’s weight warm against his shoulder, and Gladio could hear his soft breaths even through the rush of the train through the metro tunnels. He briefly wondered if it would be more comfortable if he let go of Ignis’s hand so he could wrap his arm around his friend’s shoulders to hold him in place instead, but the train conductor announced their approach towards what sounded like Ignis’s stop.
He lightly tapped Ignis by the arm. His friend stirred, his eyes groggy as he lifted his head off Gladio’s shoulder.
"Hey, wake up," Gladio whispered, "Your stop's coming up."
Ignis eyes opened slowly, before they shot wide open, and he jolted out of his seat.
"I apologise, I— I didn’t mean to nod off— " he looked away from Gladio and fumbled through his pockets, presumably to look for his wallet, "I had a lovely time Gladio—"
"What are you talkin' about?” Gladio got up from his seat and gave the elderly lady another nod before he placed an arm around Ignis’s shoulder, “I'm walking you home."
"You don't have to do that," said Ignis with a frown, “You’ve still got a way left to go.”
"Another transfer after this's no big deal, so come on."
They hopped off the train, and there was a small jump in Gladio’s chest when it was Ignis who took his hand back in his.
Skinship! That’s what the word was.
Autumn leaves swept away by the wind from their heaped piles crunched under their feet, as they walked down a street lined with ornate town houses, the tall trees along the sidewalk with the modest covering of their remaining orange leaves creating patterns along the pavement with the streetlights overhead.
"Early start today huh?" asked Gladio,
"Yes, but it's no different to any other day," said Ignis, "It feels like there aren't quite enough hours during the day,”
“Not enough to let you sleep even,” Gladio shook his head in disbelief, “Shit, today was probably long enough already without me butting in, huh?”
“No, no, you’re fine,” said Ignis, and his grip squeezed against Gladio’s like a firm reassurance, “The train car was just very warm. It was hard not to let sleep take over.”
Gladio chortled, "This happen often then?”
“Not at all, I drive most days,” said Ignis. He kept his gaze straight to the stretch of street ahead of them, and cleared his throat with a cough, “Plus I don’t always have such a comfortable human pillow with me when I commute.”
Heat crept up Gladio's cheeks, but he masked his embarrassment with a long and loud laugh that echoed down the quiet street. He matched Ignis’s slow pace up the street until Ignis's grip in his hand grounded him in front of the stairs to one house.
"This is me," said Ignis.
The warmth that was in Gladio’s chest all evening dimmed when Ignis slipped his hand out of Gladio’s and turned to face him, only to point his gaze downward once more while he fished his keys out of his pocket.
"I had a really lovely evening Gladiolus," said Ignis with a slight quiver to his voice, "As I said earlier, I've never really gone on a date with someone before and I know it's silly but—"
A what now?
—no amount of research will ever quite live up to the real thing, and you've been so kind and patient with me tonight despite me figuring this all out, so thank you. For the wonderful evening."
Gladio's vision blurred and his knees went weak. Ignis was beginning to knit his brows in concern and Gladio's mind raced through all the evidence that he'd missed.
The hand-holding. The nervous blushes. All the touching. So that wasn't skinship?
And had Ignis been flirting with him on the way back?
Ignis thought he was on a date with Gladio.
Gladio suddenly felt light-headed.
Now the right and honest thing to do would be to correct the misunderstanding.
Ignis smiled up at Gladio. He imagined Ignis meticulously researching and planning for their weekend, brimming with excitement that spilled into his nervous glee during their "date."
"I had a really nice time too," said Gladio, hoping his voice didn't come out choked,
"Could we do this again?" asked Ignis.
Could they hang out again, and have another really enjoyable evening where they can get to know each other some more?
Yes, sure, a million times yes.
But for "this" to be another date?
Ignis looked at him with anticipation, awaiting an answer. And if Ignis thought this was a date, a question like that took a lot of guts to ask.
"Sure,” said Gladio when he found his voice again, and he dug his grave deeper, “Just let me know whenever,"
Ignis brought his head up to meet Gladio's gaze, his smile wide and his eyes overflowing with happiness, and the next thing Gladio knew, Ignis’s wrapped under his arms and around his midsection.
All function in Gladio’s limbs froze for a second. His eyes darted down to Ignis’s head pressed against his chest—and again, Iris had been right about using cologne—his hands grasped at air, and his brain cells screamed in his head, hug back, hug back ya dingus !
Gently, Gladio lowered his arms and firmly wrapped them around Ignis's narrow shoulders, and tentatively stroked over one shoulder.
If Gladio’s already unintentionally taken Ignis on a date, he may as well get an intentional hug.
Ignis pulled away, his face full flushed, so that 's why he'd looked like a beet all day, and before Gladio could recover from all this physical contact he had received—from someone who less than 24 hours ago, couldn't even stand near him without a scowl—Ignis asked in one breath, with a gleam in his eyes that Gladio couldn’t mistake as he held his gaze,
"Would you permit me to kiss you?"
And that was it. Alarms in Gladio’s brain blared code red as it shut itself down, leaving Gladio to fend for himself.
I could tell him now. Fuck, I should tell him now.
His eyes quickly darted to Ignis’s lips, pink from the cold, just like his cheeks were, and Gladio’s never noticed before how full his bottom lip looked, and then he wrenched his eyes back up to his waiting gaze.
“Yes,” said Gladio through a dry throat.
With a deep breath, Ignis raised himself on the tips of his toes, placed his hands firm on Gladio's shoulders and brushed his lips against Gladio's cheek, and they were as supple as they looked.
“Good night Gladio,” said Ignis with a tremble in his voice, but before Gladio could croak out a pathetic good night back, Ignis had already bolted up the steps to the front door, and opened and snapped it shut behind him with great efficiency that could only be expected of Ignis Scientia.
Ignis thought they were on a date.
Shit, there was a huge communication gap there. Humongous. How had Gladio asked him out, that afternoon in the training hall? It was hard to recall now, Ignis gave Gladio one glance—and if looks could kill Ignis has killed him many times over before—and the fear that instilled in him blurred the memory in his mind.
Wait, but if Ignis thought Gladio asked him out on a date, and Ignis said yes—
You only agree to go on a date with someone if you, even if just a little bit—
And Ignis thought that Gladio asked him on a date, wouldn’t that mean that he thought that Gladio also—
On his bedside table, Gladio’s phone lit up through the darkness in his bedroom.
A message from Ignis.
" Thank you again for the lovely evening Gladio ," it read, "Although I'm not sure if sleep is possible now no matter how tired I am, because all I see when I close my eyes is that horrid monstrosity from the movie ."
Gladio caught the small smile that formed on his face, and he sighed.
What was Gladio to do?
Ignis thought we were on a date.
Well, what did Gladio usually do for his dates, who sent him messages later in the evening afterwards?
He pushed himself up on his pillow, and folded one arm behind his head.
"Same," Gladio messaged back, "I'm probably not sleeping tonight,” then he added, "You didn't have any issue falling asleep on the train though."
A pause, and then another response from Ignis appeared.
" I don't have my human pillow with me."
A groan escaped Gladio, and his chest squeezed in a vice grip as he reread the message. For someone who said they’d never done this dating thing before, Ignis sure could be daring.
Gladio released an exhale through his nose and he typed out his response.
"Want me to keep ya company then?"
The coffee Jared made was always black.
There were never any embellishments whatsoever, since it's how Clarus preferred it and he was the heaviest, maybe even the only drinker of the house.
But just for this Sunday morning, it was exactly what Gladio needed, his eyes still heavy and a yawn constantly threatening to break out of his lips as he spooned a heap of sugar into his mug. Earlier that morning, he had to force his eyelids open, feeling like he had only just shut them, but the sun was streaming through the gaps in his curtains and the tweeting birds signalled to his body that he needed to be out of bed. His gaze had landed directly on the phone on his chest, and his gut sank.
He hadn't expected Ignis to respond to his response the night before, let alone for their messages to ping back and forth so easily well into the night, picking up their conversation where they left off when they parted in person.
"Did you ever like, I dunno," said Gladio at the breakfast table as he cut through a streak of bacon, "Hold hands with your friends?"
"Maybe a long time ago as children,” Clarus frowned at his paper, “Surely not in my old age now."
For a moment Gladio conjured the image of his father, with his grave expression and his heavy robes, walking hand in hand around the Citadel with the King.
He glanced up at his father, and at his deep frown over his wire frame glasses as he perused the news, and promptly wiped the image from mind.