Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s fucking freezing, and he hates it, but there’s not much else he can do.

He hates asking for help. Makes him feel weak and dumb and stupid, but he fucking tripped on the ice because Insomnia decided to freeze over in fucking March . Now his head fucking hurts like crazy; it was throbbing the whole sad walk home, and now it’s escalated to pounding, and he fucking hates it.

Pain makes him irritable. This is great; he’s having a wonderful time.

-

“I believe it’s in the best interest of Insomnians if we continue to mitigate the influx of refugees from outer Lucis territories and foreign nations.”

Noctis takes a very deep breath and closes his eyes. He didn’t want it to be another one of those council meetings. Still, a certain councilman from astrals-knows whatever noble family has the floor today.

“Many Insomnians agree with this stance, as you can see from the poll research on the above slide.”

He quickly looks at Ignis, whose face is resting in an absent, yet slightly distinguishable, scowl. He’s sitting across the room from Noct with a stiff, deep green tie that Gladio insists brings out Iggy’s eyes. It kind of does, actually.

“-and here we can see an increase in overhousing in the refugee district. It’s likely most of these homes are overfilled; multiple families have crammed themselves into tiny apartments, refusing to work, and relying on government subsidies to provide for them. Tax-paying Insomnians shouldn’t be forced to support such people.”

Watching Ignis’ face is like watching a dramatic fight between two warring facial states: his ‘I must maintain my composure at all times’ face and his ‘this individual is the final test for my etiquette training, and I’m not sure I’ll pass’ face. Noct isn’t really sure the latter has ever won the battle.

“In conclusion, I urge his Majesty and the Council to consider the impact these refugees are having on Insomnian society and economy. Thank you.”

Noctis’ eyes drift across every councilor who’s clapping their hands before landing on his father, eyes empty and unforgiving. He peaks over to Ignis, whose eyes briefly lock with his own.

-

He slams the front door of his house, kicking off his shoes before leaning against the door behind him.

Why did the park trail have to fucking freeze?

His head hurt so bad, and he had to walk home in the chill air with just his jogging shorts and a t-shirt because it’s fucking March ; the ground isn’t supposed to freeze in March.

He’s not sure ranting at the weather is helping his case here, but he’s still angry.

He gently presses his palms to his forehead and takes the deepest breath he can muster. He doesn’t want to be angry. He wants the day to start over; he wants Gladio to have called him at 5 to ask about working out at the gym. He wants to have ended up at Noct’s apartment afterward, waking up the whiny Prince with kisses and soft headbutts until he finally dragged them both out of bed. He wants to have had an Iggy protein shake (not a Gladio protein shake that’s more protein than shake). He wants to have gone to spar in a training hall while Noct and Iggy sat in the council meeting. Then he would have convinced Gladio to drive him home so he could shower before work. It would have been fine.

But all he has is this fucking headache, and the room won’t stop spinning.

And he’s irritable, and he hates that, too.

-

“What do you think of Argentum then?”

“Depends on what you mean, sir.”

He sighs. “As a fellow crownsguard, Gladiolus.”

He can’t help but crack a small smile. “He’s determined. He’s filled out a lot since high school, so he’s getting stronger every day. I’m not sure anyone has beat his running times yet, but he’s still a little cautious. I know he’d do anything for His Highness in a heartbeat, even jump in front of a swarm of MTs.”

He eyes the young shield coolly. “And do you think that willingness comes from personal devotion or loyalty?”

“I think it’s both, but I’m not sure he would be able to tell the difference.”

-

He has work at noon. Shit.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep on the couch, but now it’s quarter to 11, and he’s…sweating? Why is he sweating? Why is it so fucking hot in his parents' house?

It’s March . It’s supposed to be chilly, not fucking freezing and not fucking hot .

Astrals.

He pulls himself off the couch, and the room spins slightly more than usual. Breakfast. He needs food. And his meds. Maybe that will make him less angry. Also pain killers. Cause his head fucking hurts.

-

“Prom isn’t texting me back.”

“Well I’d suspect he’s at work, Noct. It’s almost-”

“Noctis?”

Ignis looks up from Noct and spots His Majesty a few paces away with Clarus in tow. The four of them are the last in the council chambers. Noctis, in all his formal eloquence, rolls his neck and turns to his father. Ignis briefly closes his eyes. Some things never change , he thinks.

“Yes?” The Prince replies.

“I wanted to tell you how proud I was to hear your response to Councillor Saevus’ proposal this morning. I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier,” the King says, his eyes soft and kind.

Noctis flinches the tiniest bit and looks away. “Uh…thanks?”

Ignis gently places his hand on the small of Noct’s back.

“I-I mean, thank you.”

Ignis sighs, but the King smiles fondly.

“Are you available for dinner this evening?”

Noct shoots him a look, and Ignis sighs just slightly louder. He says, “His Highness is free this evening, Your Majesty.”

There’s a quick, silent dialogue between the King and his Shield that Ignis can’t quite discern.

“And your retinue? Could they join us?”

Ignis feels Noctis stiffen beside him. “Um…sure if you want?”

“Wonderful. We’ll meet at 7:30 this evening then.”

Hmm , Ignis thinks, what perfect timing for Prompto to get off work.

-

Fuck work.

He’s been sitting on the shower floor for at least two hours. The water’s off, but he can’t will himself to move. His head hurts. He could probably just doze off here. If he gets cold, he can just turn the water back on. 

-

[Noctis 15:26] prom my dad invited all four of us to dinner

[Noctis 15:26] uh also gladio my dad invited all four of us to dinner

[Gladio 15:29] thanks for making me the afterthought

[Noctis 15:31] afterthot

[Gladio 15:32] i actually don’t love you anymore

[Noctis 15:33]  ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚

[Noctis 15:34] gladio how could u

[Noctis 15:34] and on my BIRTHDAY OF ALL DAYS  ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚

[Ignis 15:36] Prompto, let us know when you get off work today. I can pick you up.

[Gladio 15:42] also prompto maybe don’t rub off on noct anymore

-

The shower got cold, the water didn’t help, and the lights were too bright. He crawls into bed and stays there.

-

He knows who smacks the back of his arm before his nerves even recognize the pain.

“Has Prompto texted you?”

Gladio rolls his eyes. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“Yes, and your job is to protect my boyfriend.”

Gladio closes his eyes. “My job at this point is to protect the Lucian Prince from his Shield’s brewing impatience.”

“I love you, too.”

Gladio smiles and shoves Noct away. “Pretty sure I rescinded that earlier.”

“Traitor.”

The Shield crosses his arms. “Talked to Cor about Prom today.”

“And?”

“He wanted to know if I thought Prompto was capable of protecting you.”

Gladio still hasn’t really looked at the Prince, but he can hear the eye-roll in his silence. “Of course, he can.”

“With a bit more training, yeah. I think Cor’s worried Prom might fall out of love with you.”

“I’m really only worried he’ll fall out of love with himself at this point.”

Gladio quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t turn his gaze. “That bad, huh?”

“He’s been jittery recently.”

“He doesn’t really like running on a treadmill.”

“Yeah well he’s gotta do something, or his brain will explode.”

-

He falls asleep to a nosebleed and that weird twitch in his left arm from before he met Noct.

-

Ignis Stupeo Scientia does not get anxious, especially for formal dinners.

But he also has no idea what to wear to a formal dinner with his boyfriend’s dad, who also happens to be the King of Lucis .

A tie? Is the event business casual? Or semi-formal? Should he wear his bronze cuff links to accent his gray suit jacket? Will he be overdressed?

He sighs and unlocks his phone. Polyamory has its upsides.

[Ignis 16:48] Good afternoon. What is the attire for this evening?

[Clarus 16:50] Hello, Ignis. If you could find jeans in your closet, you could most likely wear those.

Jeans? At a dinner with the King?

[Ignis 16:51] Will my uncle be joining us?

[Clarus 16:52] No, I believe he is still in Leide.

One less judging gaze to worry about then, but he’s still not sure he could convince himself to wear jeans.

[Ignis 16:54] Would slacks be alright?

[Clarus 16:54] (￣ー￣)ｂ

[Ignis 16:54] Thank you, and I apologize for the inconvenience.

[Clarus 16:55] You’re fine, Ignis. I’ll see you this evening.

[Ignis 16:56] Till then.

He pulls out his now-organized clothes and lays them out on the bed. He wonders about wrinkles for a bit too long before his phone dings again.

[Noctis 17:09] prommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

[Noctis 17:09] dinner with mine and gladio’s dad tonight

[Noctis 17:09] u in?

Ignis sighs and puts the phone down. Prompto should be done with work now or in an hour. Either way, he should shower and change before he picks up the blond.

-

He wakes up, and the house is freezing. He doesn’t really remember crawling into bed, but his head still hurts. He rubs a hand down his face and accidentally scrapes off some crusted blood on his upper lip. He looks down at his shirt and sees that it’s stiff from dry blood, and so are his sheets. Gross.

And then he remembers he skipped work without calling off. He squeezes his eyes shut and balls his hands into fists. His day didn’t have a solid schedule, nothing to keep him grounded and stop the growing overwhelm in his chest from taking over. He really doesn’t want to curl up in a ball on his bloody bed sheets, but the urge is exceptionally strong. He just wanted to run this morning. Everything would have been better if he could have gone on a run that didn’t end in a face plant and a headache.

He could probably go now. The sun’s still out, and he doesn’t have plans with his boyfriends tonight.

They probably have more important things to do anyway.

His head still hurts, but he drags himself up anyway. He pulls the sheets from his bed, slips off his shirt, and brings everything into the bathroom. He turns the knob for the basin faucet and throws everything into the bathtub while hot water fills the tub. Soaking bloody stuff in the bathtub when you’re too lazy/sad/overwhelmed to put it in the wash is a trick he learned from Noct and one of his friends at work.

He didn’t take his meds this morning and probably slept through his afternoon dose, too. He takes his evening dose early and a few pain meds before heading out the door in a long sleeve shirt and joggers. He doesn’t stop to look for his phone because he’s all alone anyway.

Everything will be fine after he runs.

-

Noctis stares in the mirror as warm water drips down his face. Ignis said to wash up before they swing by Prom’s because they’re all going to the citadel afterward. Prom still hasn’t texted back, but…he might be busy. Noct thinks that if he just thinks the same thing over and over again, then maybe he can will it into truth. Prom’s fine.

Most likely.

And there’s nothing to worry about.

But even after Noct dries his face and looks back up in the mirror, his own eyes betray him. He just knows that something’s wrong.

-

He could only run two miles before the pounding in his head was too much to ignore. He walks the rest of the way home, taking in the suburban sprawl of his neighborhood. His neighbors are kind of mean, but at least there’s a nice park nearby. There are plenty of trees to make him feel like he’s jogging in the woods but enough clear space to have a pretty good view of the world around him.

Except for the black ice from this morning; he tries not to think about that.

He rounds the corner to his street and spies his house, the only one not illuminated this time of day. His parents must not have come home. What are the odds of that?

He slips into the house quietly, toes off his shoes, and slides down to the floor. His head still hurts, but that’s okay. It’s probably cause he left his breakfast on the counter and never returned to it.

He sits on the floor with his knees tucked in for a while, his head cushioned against them with his arms. Maybe he cries a little, maybe he doesn’t.

Eventually, he pulls himself up and wanders into the kitchen, spying his phone on the countertop near his water bottle from twelve hours ago, when he went on his first run.

He snags both, then heads back upstairs to drain the tub, dump the soggy linens in the bathroom sink, and try and nuke this headache with another shower.

-

“Heyyyyy this is Prompto’s phone! Clearly I’m not here so feel free to leave a message!”

“Hey, it’s Gladio. We’re heading over to pick you up. Try and be awake at least when we get there? Love you.”

-

He doesn’t sit on the floor of the shower this time. He got in, rinsed off, lathered up, rinsed off again, and then got out. Very efficient.

But now he’s sitting on the toilet lid wrapped in the fluffy, yellow bath sheet Ignis got him a few months ago. It’s the biggest towel he’s ever had, so he can curl up in it while keeping his butt off the ceramic toilet lid. Very efficient.

His phone buzzes.

He sighs but still extends his arm out from the warm cocoon he’s made and reaches for it. 

26 messages. 4 missed calls.

He almost puts the phone down when it buzzes in his hand.

[Noctis 18:28] hey we’re here

[Noctis 18:28] well we’re at your house

[Noctis 18:28] youre home right? 

Fuck .

-

“Since when did you get a spare key to Prom’s place?”

Ignis sighs and opens the front door. “I asked for one after he locked himself out in January,” he replies. “Did he text you back?”

“No, but-”

“Prompto, you here?” Gladio calls out.

There’s fumbling upstairs, and then- “Shit, I’ll be right down!”

“I’m coming up,” Noctis says, taking the stairs two at a time.

Ignis surveys the living room before turning to Gladio. “He must have fallen asleep after work.”

Gladio leans over and glances into the kitchen. “Maybe? His stuff isn’t on the kitchen table though.”

Ignis frowns. “You don’t think he went?”

“He always puts his stuff there. Like always always.”

It’s quiet upstairs for a bit.

“Is everything alright?” Ignis calls.

“Y-yeah. Well, no. But give us a few minutes.” Noct replies, his voice strained.

“Noct-”

“Give them space, Iggs,” Gladio murmurs.

-

He’s only halfway dressed when he hears the front door open, and then immediately after that, Gladio calls out for him. He nearly drops his deodorant on the floor because his hands won’t stop shaking. “Shit, I’ll be right down!” Everything is fine. The run should have fixed everything, so why is he still-

“I’m coming up.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s Noct. He dashes into his bedroom and yanks a pair of boxers from the draw, pulling them on just as Noct appears in his doorway.

“Prom?”

He flinches, and his shoulders jerk up to his ears. He feels like he was caught in the act. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Babe, you okay?”

His head really hurts.

“C’mon let’s sit down. Where are your bed sheets?”

Noct guides him to the mattress and then sits down beside him. The Prince runs a hand through his damp hair.

“Bad day?” Noct asks softly.

Prompto nods, his eyes still shut.

Noct gently kisses his head. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Head won’t stop hurting,” he says softly. “Fell on my run this morning, and it just…threw me off I guess.”

“Why didn’t you…never mind. Did you make it to work?”

Prompto shakes his head. “Everything…was too much.”

Noct pulls him closer. “I’m sorry. You have a meltdown?”

Oh. “...I…think so?” Maybe? He doesn’t know.

“Sorry you had to go through it alone,” Noct says as he gently tucks Prompto’s head into his neck. “I noticed you were getting more and more uncomfortable recently; I probably should have said something sooner, huh?”

He sighs into Noct’s shirt. “It’s not your job to take care of me.”

Noct is quiet for a moment. “...Can I do it anyway?”

“Is everything alright?” Prompto remembers that Ignis and Gladio are downstairs.

Noctis kisses his head again before shifting away and replying, “Y-yeah. Well, no. But give us a few minutes.”

He curls up a bit more. “I made you all worry, didn’t I?”

Noctis hums. “We worry cause we love you, dummy.”

“But you all drove out here for nothing.”

Noctis settles down next to him on the bed. “Well you being stressed certainly isn’t nothing. Did you get my texts? My dad invited us all to dinner tonight.”

He forgot about the 24 messages. “Oh.”

“You wanna go there or come to my place? Either way you won’t be alone.”

His headache spikes a bit just then. “Kind of just want my head to stop hurting, I think.”

Noctis gives him yet another kiss on the head. “You want me to have Iggy and Gladio check you out?”

He looks up at Noctis. The Prince’s eyes are gentle and sweet; the little streaks of blue weep empathy and sincerity. With how those eyes are looking at him, he realizes that he wasn’t really alone before, and he might not be alone ever again.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning down onto Noct’s lap.

Noct huffs, but his voice shows his smile. “Well, I guess I’ll just text them then.”

-

[Noctis 18:40] you guys can come up. prom’s not feeling great and he hit his head earlier.

-

Gladio doesn’t take the steps two at a time, but he makes it to the second-floor landing before Ignis and goes straight to Prompto’s room. He almost freezes in the doorway, noting Prompto lying across Noct’s lap while the Prince tucks a blanket around him.

He kneels down in front of the bed and runs a hand through Prompto’s hair. “Babe, what happened?”

“Bad day,” he mumbles. “Tripped on my run. Stressed me out. Headache won’t go away.”

“Did you hit your head when you fell?”

“Mhm.”

Gladio holds in the slight annoyance he feels rising up, but he matches his eyes with Noctis, who looks like he feels the same. They’ve been over the whole ‘ask for help when you need it’ thing multiple times with both Prompto and Noctis. Gladio doesn’t really understand why it doesn’t stick.

“Dizzy or nauseous at all today?” He asks.

“Mmm…dizzy and tired. And grumpy. And itchy and hot. And cold. A lot of things.”

“I don’t know if it was just a little bonk or something, but I’m guessing he also had a meltdown earlier,” Noctis adds.

“Ahh. Well we should-”

“Prompto, why are there bloody linens in your bathroom sink?”

Gladio turns to see Ignis in the doorway, a damp, stained shirt in his hands.

Prompto cracks an eye open. “Hi, Iggy.”

“Hello, Prompto. The shirt and sheets?”

“Got a nosebleed earlier. Woke up with blood everywhere.”

Ignis doesn’t really keep his composure, and Gladio glances at Noct, seeing the Prince’s eyes widen.

“Okay, in the car, please,” Ignis says. He turns on his heel quickly.

“You want me to carry you?” Gladio asks.

“I can…sure,” Prompto says slowly, his face a little torn.

So Gladio scoops him up. Noct pulls a hoodie out of Prompto’s closet and some sweatpants from the drawer. They go downstairs, where Ignis is waiting with Prompto’s wallet and house keys in his hand.

“Off we go.”

-

The car is so warm he falls asleep.

-

[Noctis 19:20] uhhhhh meet us in the med wing?

[Regis 19:24] Excuse me?

-

The lights are too bright, and he hates it.

“Nosebleeds after a head injury can be a sign of serious injury, so it’s good that you brought him in to get checked out. Doesn’t look like there’s too much to worry about, though.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, sir. He’s exhausted yes, but he’s aware of his surroundings and what’s going on. There aren’t any additional symptoms that would point to a brain injury. The nosebleed might have just happened randomly under the circumstances. Right now he just needs to rest.”

He hears Ignis sigh from across the room. “Alright then. Thank you, Doctor.”

“You’re welcome, sir. Feel better, Prompto.”

“Thank you,” he replies softly. He’s just sitting on the hospital bed, spinning his stim toy round and round. Noct’s seated beside him, snickering at his phone a little too deviously.

“Honestly,” Ignis huffs. “He didn’t even do any imaging tests.”

“He’s fine, Iggy, chill,” Noct says, not looking up. “Remember when Prom got that massive nosebleed while we were gaming? His nose is just rebellious that’s all.”

“Rebellious or not, after a head injury a nosebleed could mean-”

“Yes, and the doctor cleared him, Iggs,” Gladio says. He’s leaning against the wall near the bed, trying to spy on what Noct is typing.

“I’m okay, I promise. Just tired,” he says. He tries to give Ignis a healthy smile, but a yawn comes out instead.

“You still wanna do dinner with my dad?” Noctis asks, nudging his shoulder.

He’s honestly not sure, but Ignis answers for him.

“I’m sure the King won’t mind a rain check given the circumstances.”

“Not at all.”

Everyone in the room turns, and-

There’s the king.

In jeans.

Prompto’s pretty sure Ignis’ face twitches a little bit.

-

“Ask for help, Prom.”

“Mhm. I’m asleep right now actually.”

“Ask. For. Help.”

Prompto curls into Gladio’s chest. “I’ll try.”