Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ignis would have been a fool to think that offering to hunt with Gladio would keep him away from Aranea entirely. He had hoped it might, but expected it wouldn’t, and as usual his brain was right.

The day after their sparring match, Gladio invited Ignis along on a quick local hunt while the kids were at school. A handful of sabertusks had been seen prowling around outside of town late that morning, and Roth had asked that Gladio handle it. He typically tasked Gladio with more difficult hunts, but the pack’s proximity made it a priority, and most of the other hunters had already headed off on other errands by the time the sabertusks had been reported.

Although Ignis didn’t find the same sort of enjoyment in hunting that Gladio seemed to, he had something that might pass as fun, following after the more experienced hunter. It wasn’t the same kind of fun as sparring, and Ignis didn’t particularly like killing things, especially when the pack of mutant canines had hardly a steak or filet between them, but outsmarting and outmaneuvering the beasts was a thrill he hadn’t felt for some time.

Fighting beside Gladio was something too. The bond Ignis felt between them when they collaborated on keeping Noctis safe, a link that had been as strong as steel in the months of their flight from Insomnia, felt stronger in those few moments of battle than they had in years of quiet cohabitation. It was almost instinct to watch and react to Gladio’s movements, mirroring him as he circled the beasts, his strikes timed just so to keep the enemy off balance.

It made Ignis want to follow him on every hunt, not just to keep him from other partners, but to see him dance on the battlefield like that, and join in with his own matching steps. The way Gladio’s eyes glittered when Ignis struck true made that desire all the stronger.

Really, it was no wonder that Gladio and Aranea had eyes for each other, if that was how they saw one another. It was intimate in a way it was difficult to be while standing still. Never before had Ignis felt the limitations of his sedentary lifestyle so keenly.

His mood was buoyed for days after that. But then Aranea came around again, waving a bounty poster, and Gladio gathered his gear and cheerfully trailed off after her. He kissed Ignis on the cheek as he left, like some kind of consolation prize, leaving him to wish Gladio would just rip the bandage off, instead of being kind about it and prolonging the pain.

He was gone for four days that time, noticeably longer than he was usually out, and it put Ignis in a noticeably worse mood. The boys were quieter than usual, when the third day came around and Ignis’ patience was wearing thin. He was fairly certain he didn’t treat them any differently, but even at six years old they knew him too well not to be aware of his moods.

It was Prompto who brought it up hesitantly, as he and Noct were coloring in the living room after school. He kept glancing nervously at Ignis, until finally Ignis put down his book and asked, “Is something the matter, Prompto?”

He thought the boy would ask for some more snacks (he’d made himself at home in their house, but he was still shy about grabbing food without asking; apparently it was something his caretaker at the orphanage often got on him about), but instead he asked, “Are you mad because Gladio’s late?”

“I’m not mad,” Ignis said, aware that this was not the first time he’d had to convince the kids he wasn’t in a bad mood. Perhaps he needed to rein in his emotions a little better. “And he isn’t late,” he added, just as a matter of fact. “I knew this would be a long hunt. He could be several more days yet.”

“Oh,” Prompto said, his posture softening slightly now that he didn’t have to worry that Ignis was angry. “So then you’re sad because you miss him?”

Ignis opened his mouth to protest that he wasn’t sad and he didn’t miss Gladio at all, but on top of the fact that those were both bald-faced lies, they didn’t fit the image of the happily married parents he and Gladio were still trying to present. A couple who were truly in love should miss each other when they were apart.

“Is it so obvious?” Ignis asked with a soft laugh.

Prompto nodded enthusiastically. “You’re always sad when he’s gone! Right, Noct?” He reached over and shook Noctis’ arm, causing the boy to glare at him with a stormy viciousness when it ruined his drawing.

“You made me color outside the lines!”

The boys were wrestling in a cloud of drawing paper not a minute later, so Ignis didn’t find out if Noct also noticed his father’s apparent sadness when his other dad was out of town, at least not until a week or so later.

Gladio had returned after several days, and since then had come and gone regularly, including on drinking dates with Aranea, despite Ignis’ attempt to satisfy that need as well. Apparently, Ignis’ mood had not improved, even though Gladio was now back to his usual schedule. As they walked back from the bathhouse one weekend morning, Noct stared up at him from the corner of his eye.

“You’re still sad, even though Gladdy’s home,” he noted, his expression somewhere between wary and judgmental.

“What makes you say that?” Ignis asked, returning a look that was probably too similar.

“I can tell,” Noct replied, scowling lightly, like he was offended that Ignis thought he could hide his emotions from him. He added, “And Prompto can tell too.” After a short moment he added as well, “And Miss C asked if you and Gladdy were fighting.”

Ignis nearly tripped over the flat ground. Alarmed, he stopped and stared down at Noct. “Miss Contreras asked if we were fighting? What did you tell her?”

Noct shrugged. “I said you never fight.” Ignis sighed in relief just as Noct added, “Then she asked Prompto, and he said you were sad because Gladdy was gone all week.”

There was no way Ignis could ask if the teacher had seemed to believe him; Noct was somewhat emotionally savvy, especially where his parents were concerned, but Ignis couldn’t expect him to understand the deep suspicions adults sometimes harbored. He took a deep breath and stood up straight. He’d have to work on their public image, if people he saw for barely a minute every day were noticing the tension between them.

The problem was that when he and Gladio were together in public, there was very little he could do to make them seem more in love. Already they held hands, kissed when appropriate and sometimes when not appropriate, smiled, and touched casually. Ignis didn’t imagine that it looked particularly fake to those around them, because as the years had worn on, the gestures had felt more and more natural, and, admittedly… more real, more genuine. True, a shiver still ran through him when their lips met, or when Gladio’s hand lingered softly on his skin, but it was no longer forced. And although their affection was still purposeful, less and less often was it planned. Nobody who watched them together should think they were anything less than blissfully in love.

The problem became apparent when Miss Contreras pulled him aside one afternoon, some weeks later, as the children were leaving for the day.

“Mr. Scientia, can we talk for a few minutes?” she asked, smiling kindly at him, and then down at the kids. “Noct, Prompto, why don’t you play in the playground?”

The boys didn’t need any further urging; they ran for the monkey bars, leaving the two adults to chat in near-privacy.

“What can I do for you?” Ignis asked. He noted that she had a gentle concern in her eyes, but he expected her to say something school-related, about Noct’s test scores, or Prompto speaking out of turn, or the need for more guest teachers.

“I wanted to check on you,” she said, smiling with a look of… almost… pity. “You’ve seemed… stressed lately, and I wanted to make sure there was nothing going on in the family that I should be aware of.”

Ignis could feel his blood hardening, turning him into a statue, or a robot. He replied, “I appreciate your concern, but we’re all perfectly fine, I assure you.”

Miss Contreras was not assured. “I understand. You’re a private person, Mr. Scientia. But when there’s discord between the parents, the children suffer too. Noct is worried about his parents. Prompto is worried about you too.”

“Did they tell you this?” Ignis asked, ice melting down his spine at the thought that Noct was truly bothered by his behavior.

Shaking her head, Miss Contreras said, “Kids don’t always know how to talk about what’s bothering them.” Moving on to a seemingly different subject, she said, “Your husband. Gladio, right? Does he treat you well when he’s at home?”

The oxygen seemed to desert Ignis’ lungs. He had to breathe carefully in order to get enough air but avoid looking shaken. “Of course,” he said, letting a smirk find its way to the corner of his mouth. “I’d say he’s the very model spouse. He’s hardworking. A wonderful father. His only flaw is a penchant for public displays of affection.”

Nodding, the teacher said, “I’ve seen how he is in public. I’m asking how he acts when there aren’t eyes on him.”

Ignis could barely stop himself from cringing over how apparently badly their ruse was working. He hoped Miss Contreras was just paranoid or uncommonly preceptive, that she wasn’t just saying what everyone was thinking. Imagine, if their carefully curated displays actually made people think there was something wrong with their private relationship, rather than that it simply didn’t exist.

He thought about making a joke in response, but it didn’t seem like she’d be persuaded by an amusing diversion. “I promise, Gladio is and has always been perfectly kind to me,” he told her. “We’ve been friends and partners since long before the city fell. He protected us through our escape, our long journey here, and all the years since we’ve settled, all without complaint. There’s nothing I can say against him, nor would I want to.”

Miss Contreras stared at him quietly, but the look of pity on her face didn’t fade as he professed how good Gladio was. “I’m sure you already know this, but you’re a lot like your son.” She smiled at him, a touch sad. “You’re both very kind people– beneath all that pride. I just hope…” Sighing, she folded her hands together. “I hope that he’s not learning to suffer silently from you. I want him to know that if something is wrong, that if someone is treating you wrong, you don’t have to just… bear it.”

“Is someone treating him poorly?” Ignis asked, feeling that she should have led with that, if she knew his son was getting bullied.

She shook her head at him, still smiling, still so pitying. He worried she was going to look at him that way for the rest of their days there, and people would start noticing, and start to wonder if the Scientia family was harboring some hefty skeletons in their closet. Little did they know, and he was determined to keep it that way, but nothing he said seemed to throw the teacher off his trail.

“It’s not my job to pry into parents’ lives,” Miss Contreras said, “but I care about Noct and what sort of influences he’s getting. Try to be a good one. Lead by example. Show him… that he doesn’t have to accept a bad hand.”

Ignis frowned. “I suppose it depends on the game, doesn’t it.”

Shaking her head in mild exasperation, she said, “I have the feeling your family is too clever for its own good. Maybe I’m just a kindergarten teacher, but I think sometimes you have to set your cleverness aside so it stops getting in the way of making important decisions.” She sighed and added, “I won’t take up any more of your time, Mr. Scientia. I’m glad things are going well with your family, but I’ll be here if anything ever comes up that you want to talk about.”

She called over to the kids, and they came running, looking energized from the extra few minutes of play. They all waved their goodbyes and headed home, far behind the rest of the pack.

“What did Miss C wanna talk about, Iggy?” Noct asked, grabbing Ignis’ hand in his right, and Prompto’s in his left, and swinging their linked arms.

“Nothing important,” he answered, looking off into the distance. “She said she likes to check in with parents from time to time.”

Prompto perked up and waved his hand like he was in class, although he didn’t wait to be called on. “Oh! You should invite her to dinner! Then she can see that you and Gladio don’t fight!”

Noct scowled at Prompto. “I told her they don’t fight!” His scowl whipped over to Ignis. “I told her you don’t fight. If you’re in trouble with Miss C, it’s not my fault.”

Chuckling, Ignis said, “Nobody is in trouble with Miss C. Sometimes adults ask questions they already know the answer to, just to be polite. You ask ‘how are you?’ even when the other person is smiling. It’s a matter of manners.”

The children were unimpressed with his answer, and spent the rest of the short walk home discussing between themselves how dumb the concept of pleasantries was.

Unfortunately, Miss Contreras’ question was no mere pleasantry, even though she seemed to have already figured out the answer. Ignis intended to brush her words aside; after all, she’d told him she wouldn’t bother him about it anymore, and he got the feeling she really would mind her business from then on. But later that night, he found himself thinking over her suggestions.

Was he silently suffering the bad hand he’d been dealt, accepting it because he was too proud to admit that it was hurting him?

Or was it not pride that pained him, but cowardice?

Ignis would admit, to himself if not to others, that he was sometimes stubborn about accepting his own feelings. Feelings were frustrating, destructive tenants living rent-free in his mind, squatters taking up the space in which his organized thoughts were meant to reside. It took him a long time to even begin to acknowledge some of the more troublesome feelings, let alone come to understand and tolerate them.

He had grudgingly accepted that this tension between himself and Gladio was hurting him, sometimes terribly. He tolerated the idea that he was afraid of Gladio leaving, that the concept of his indefinite absence from Ignis’ life struck actual fear into his heart. He was starting to understand that he desperately wanted Gladio to stay, and that it was not a purely altruistic desire for Noct’s wellbeing. He wanted Gladio to stay for Ignis, as well as for Noct.

Recently he’d started to acknowledge that there was some deeper reason for that, something tied to the way his stomach fluttered when they kissed, and how his heart clenched when they laid silently beside each other at night, Ignis fearing it could be the last time. It was tied to the dreams that seeped into his unconscious mind, and how the memories of their flight from Insomnia were some of his favorites, despite everything. They’d been united against the world then, two wayward souls with nothing and no one but each other.

Far be it from Ignis to suggest that he’d rather be in mortal danger, but sometimes he felt he’d happily suffer any peril or discomfort if it meant he could be so united with Gladio again. Their ruse was wearing on him. The falseness of their relationship hurt more every day. He longed to be truly linked to this partner he’d walked beside for so long, truly, like they’d been in the beginning, when their hands joined together was a matter of life and death.

When he looked at all that, and let those feelings settle into their homes between thoughts and instincts, they started to become clear, and it became clear that there was a name for the feeling that was so desperately trying to make itself known to him.

Love.

It felt like such an arbitrary word, far too small for what it was supposed to mean. He loved Gladio. He was in love with Gladio. He was infatuated, attracted, enamored, smitten. He adored Gladio; he needed him, and wanted him.

Every synonym in his reasonably diverse vocabulary failed to feel even remotely adequate, once Ignis had internalized that the feeling was true. They were accurate, every single word as correct as the last. But no combination of adjectives could touch the depth of what Gladio meant to him.

He wondered if ‘love’ would have been enough if he’d come to terms with it years before. Looking back now, he could see that it had been simmering for years. If he’d allowed himself to think about it when they were in Lestallum, would ‘enamored’ have sufficed? Was it simply adoration he’d felt as they’d crossed the deserts of Leide?

If Gladio had kissed him back at the citadel, in the library or the gardens, would Ignis have admitted he was infatuated with his friend? Would he just be in love now, if he’d realized it all those years ago?

Perhaps. But he’d ignored the signs. And now, what could have been love was a beast rising from the depths of his heart, its many reaching limbs tugging on myriad other emotions, twining with fear, and jealousy, resentment, and pride. Yes, he was attracted, he was smitten. He wanted Gladio; by the gods he was aroused by the man, physically and emotionally. And he loved him; of that there was no doubt.

If only he just loved him; maybe that he could explain.

The schoolteacher was right. Ignis was suffering in silence– but clearly not invisibly. Even if he said nothing, Noct could tell. Prompto could probably tell. Apparently sufficiently perceptive civilians could tell.

Could Gladio tell? Or was he too distracted by his own feelings to notice what was apparently crystal clear on Ignis’ face?

Maybe the correct course of action was to simply tell Gladio, rather than sulk because he didn’t appear to see it. It wasn’t as if he had anything to be afraid of, sharing his honest emotions with his partner. At worst he would laugh and mock Ignis and then leave for good. That was no worse than what he was preparing for already. He dreaded it, but only a little more than he dreaded Gladio leaving with a guilty apology.

What he really feared was that he wouldn’t be able to properly express the emotion in full. Were he to say, directly, “Gladio, I’m in love with you”, there would still be so much left unsaid. Maybe Gladio would infer some of it; he might hear “I adore you, I’m attracted to you, I want to run my hands over every inch of your skin, and I need you to stay by my side”, but that wasn’t half of what he wanted to say. It wasn’t a tenth. It was a drop in the ocean. And if Gladio didn’t fully understand, how could he be expected to reply appropriately?

To be fair, and to give his anxiety only the amount of spotlight it deserved, Ignis thought of the best case scenario as well. If the gods were smiling down on him that day, just perhaps Gladio would hear his words and they would remind him of some subtle feelings of his own. Ignis was fairly sure that amid the many love-adjacent feelings he had for Gladio, there were several that Gladio shared. He couldn’t say for sure which ones: admiration, he thought probably; appreciation; affection and fondness, of at least the kind one might feel for close friends and family. If Ignis was truly lucky, he might even recall their physical gestures with some kind of warmth, and decide to embrace what fledgling feelings of attraction he harbored, and agree to give a real relationship a chance.

Was it likely? Perhaps not. But in order to know, Ignis had to talk to Gladio. It should be simple. All he had to do was face him, and speak.

In theory, it was easy. In practice, speaking the truth was as complicated as the lies they’d woven.

If things had stayed as calm and stable as they’d strove to make them, perhaps the words would never have forced themselves from Ignis’ lips. Only the heat of his anger made him pliant enough to open up…

What happened first was actually a huge relief to Ignis: Aranea came by for dinner, just to tell them she’d be gone for a while.

“I’ve got some business to take care of down south,” she said, stuffing her face because she had to leave fairly soon. “Might not be around for a couple weeks, at least. Could be a couple of months.”

Ignis carefully kept his mouth shut, but the kids went “awww” in perfect unison. She gave them a smile that was gentle enough that it eroded some of Ignis’ hatred.

“Hey, if you’re good while I’m gone, maybe we can go fishing when I get back. What do you say? Prompto? Noctis?”

They nodded enthusiastically, promising her, “We’ll be good!”

“Great,” Gladio said with a grin. “This’ll give me the chance to even out our kill count.”

Aranea laughed. “You act like I won’t be hunting while I’m on the road. Girl’s still gotta eat.”

She didn’t stay much longer, citing an early morning the next day, but she paused in the door before she left. “You guys take care, okay? Don’t do anything crazy while I’m gone.”

For all that she got on Ignis’ frayed nerves, he could believe that Aranea really cared, for the boys as well as Gladio. She even gave Ignis a nod, as if she was entrusting their care to him. It didn’t sit well with him at all. He would have greatly preferred if she was a heartless homewrecker.

But at least she would be gone for a while. (He couldn’t hope that she never returned, or that something happened to her on her travels, but the thought did cross his mind briefly.)

A few weeks went by, and they were some of the best in recent memory, because Ignis didn’t have to dread Gladio being whisked away. It was a welcome reprieve, and just the time he needed to finally explain his feelings. Or so he thought; none of the words he needed would come to him during the quiet nights or the lunch dates or the hunts. The moments were too good to want to risk them. Gladio was there with him, and would remain there at least until Aranea returned, which could be months yet. But if Ignis spoke those words and they weren’t well received, that would probably be the end of their comfortable arrangement.

The only reason the words finally came to him was because he feared he might not have another chance.