Archive of Our Own ^beta

The sky outside was dark, night lingering in defiance of the morning that beckoned, and the air held an uncomfortable chill. If Ignis was a lesser man, he'd have been reluctant to get out of bed; he certainly understood Noct's reluctance to begin the day when the dead of winter made the world beyond the bedclothes cold and uninviting.

As it was, Ignis was not a lesser man, nor was he the Crown Prince of Lucis, and that meant that getting out of bed was a necessity. His phone gave the time as five am; enough time to have a hot shower, and a hot coffee before he had to leave. The floor was cold against his bare feet, but the hot water was reliable, and by the time Ignis had finished luxuriating in the enveloping warmth, the heating in the apartment had clicked on, taking the worst of the chill from the air.

He enjoyed a coffee as his hair dried, checking on his emails as he warmed his fingers on the cup. Overnight was blissfully quiet when it came to developing dramas and tensions; the only other things awake at quarter to six in the morning were spambots.

Spambots, and, it turned out, Gladiolus Amicitia.

The notification light on his phone blinked as Ignis's emails refreshed, and Ignis picked it up and unlocked it, furrowing his brow at the name on the message. Gladio wasn't inclined to social calls before dawn, but his emails revealed nothing of any import either.

Meet me on Citadel steps when you're ready

Ignis frowned at the message, typing out a quick reply.

What's wrong?

He wasn't left hanging, three dancing dots bubbling along the bottom of the conversation indicated that Gladio had been waiting on a reply.

Nothing

No rush. I just got something for you.

Ignis eyed that message critically as he sipped at his steaming coffee. Gladio having something for him that entailed being up before six, and waiting for him at the Citadel was, if anything, more concerning than there having been some horrific development in the political tensions with Niflheim overnight. Especially when it was marked with 'no rush'.

Still, he didn't rush. It was suspicious, certainly, but clearly not urgent, so he took his time to check his emails, read the news, and finish his coffee before he ventured out.

The clock showed six twenty six when he arrived at the Citadel, and six thirty two when he made it to the steps. Gladio was waiting, his hoodie hugged tight around him against the cold. Dawn wasn't breaking yet, but the city's lights lent their glow to the world in the sun's stead, and off in the distance the sky was paler where the sun would, in its own sweet time, much like Noct, eventually rise.

“I ask again,” he said, as he approached Gladio, his coat shut tight, but still the wind found its way inside, “what's wrong?”

Gladio shook his head. “And I'll tell you again, nothing,” he replied. He pulled his hand from the front pocket of his hoodie, and offered out a box, gift wrapped and tied with a gold ribbon.

Ignis stared at it, but didn't take it, his mind gone blank. It looked like a gift, but he certainly wasn't expecting any. “You're a day and a month off,” he said, looking up at Gladio.

“For your birthday, yeah,” Gladio agreed. “It's not for your birthday.” He offered the wrapped box towards Ignis again, more insistently this time. “What's the day today?”

“Monday,” Ignis answered.

“Yeah,” Gladio agreed, but there was an expectancy in his tone that begged elaboration.

“The eighth of January,” Ignis added, still drawing a blank at what was so significant about today.

Gladio gave a short nod. “Coming of age day,” he said, finally, and urged the box at Ignis one more time, pushing it into Ignis's hands.

Ignis took it. It felt heavy for something so slender, and he looked down at it, nonplussed. “I'm afraid I don't follow,” he said, looking back up at Gladio.

Gladio shrugged. “It's a tradition they had back in my dad's day,” he said. “Everyone that turns twenty this year gets a parade and a gift. They don't do parades much anymore, but you can still get a gift.”

Ignis looked down at the box in his hands again and found himself struggling to form a reply. “Open it,” Gladio insisted.

Ignis tugged at the ribbon slowly, watching the neat bow it had formed unravel. The black paper came away with only some slight tearing, and Ignis stored it in his pocket, not wanting to drop litter on the Citadel's steps. Beneath the paper was a slim black box, covered in velvet, and embossed with the Lucian crest. He opened that too, the gold hinges stiff and resisting until they gave with a wooden clunk.

Inside, a pen rested in a bed of yet more velvet, black as ebony, banded with gold, with a gold etched I.S. resting below the Lucian's King's crest. It was heavy, and looked expensive, the gold on it no mere colour imitation by Ignis' guess, and when he pulled it from its resting spot and held it, it sat in his hand like it had been designed for him. “Gladio,” he said, quietly, unsure of what to follow it up with. A mere thank you didn't seem appropriate.

“It's supposed to celebrate everyone becoming an adult, so you should have really got this years ago,” Gladio said, shrugging, against the thought or against the cold wind Ignis couldn't be sure. “Don't think everything you do goes unnoticed,” he added.

Ignis sighed, a warmth bursting inside him at the sentiment, and he smiled up at Gladio. “Thank you,” he said, finally. He wasn't sure what else he could say.

“No biggie,” Gladio replied, hunching his shoulders and down into his hoodie. “Can I take you for a coffee before you go to work? I'm freezing my balls off here.”

Ignis chuckled at that, his smile turning into a grin. “You did say no hurry,” he reminded Gladio. “Perhaps I should treat you to the coffee?”

Gladio shook his head, stepping forward and slinging his arm around Ignis's shoulder. “Nuh uh,” he disagreed, “it's your day. My treat.”

Ignis felt that warmth curl inside him and he bowed his head as he smiled, tucking the pen safely back into its box. “Very well,” he agreed, “but at least allow me to treat you to dinner tomorrow?”

Gladio's grin was bright, and made up for the lack of sun in the morning sky. “Yeah, tomorrow's good,” he conceded, tucking Ignis in to the warmth of his side as he turned him back down the Citadel steps. “For now, I know a cute little coffee shop you're gonna love. They even do Ebony.”

“Sounds delightful,” Ignis replied.