Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10503438.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, Gen, M/M
  Fandom:
      Final_Fantasy_XV
  Relationship:
      Gladiolus_Amicitia/Original_Character(s)
  Character:
      Gladiolus_Amicitia, Noctis_Lucis_Caelum, Ignis_Scientia, Prompto
      Argentum, Iris_Amicitia
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Childhood_Sexual_Abuse, Psychological_Trauma, Self-
      Harm, Mostly_Gen, OT4_hints, in-game, FFXV_Kink_Meme, Mild_Spoilers,
      Panic_Attacks, Non-Consensual_Touching, Drinking, Cuddles, Bisexuality
  Collections:
      FFXV_Kinkmeme
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-03-30 Words: 10206
****** Dark Corners ******
by Caelum_(zanarkand)
Summary
     Gladio leans against the closed door, taking a few deep breaths,
     trying to calm himself and shove all the memories of Cass back to
     that dark corner of his brain where'd they resided before, in a
     tightly locked safe that he'd worked hard to learn to ignore. He
     swipes at his eyes angrily, wiping away unshed tears. He hasn't cried
     over Cass since he was a child, and he's damned if he's going to
     start now. He doesn't need to—he got over it.
     The unexpected sight of an old picture brings back memories long
     forgotten, and Gladio's never been good at dealing with his emotions
     in the best of times. Written for the FFXV kink meme.
Notes
     I wrote this as a second fill for a prompt_on_the_kink_meme. It
     already had one, but I was inspired when I saw it, and before I knew
     it I'd vomited 10K words onto Scrivener. Here's the prompt:
     "when Gladio was younger, he got fucked up.
     maybe he got kidnapped, maybe a close family friend grew interested
     in Clarus' son, and decided to take advantage of Clarus' busy life.
     the exact details are up to you, but what i'd like to see, is his
     past trauma coming back to him.
     give me Gladio breaking down; give me the bros worrying their heads
     off, and give me some nice hurt/comfort.
     (bonus point for non-con, because i guess that's my mood)"
     With that out of the way, I just have two things to say. One, heed
     the warnings, both the AO3 ones and the tags. This fic does get
     descriptive. Partially because I'm just a sick fuck, I guess, and
     also because I really wanted to try and illustrate all of Gladio's
     confusion and conflicted feelings.
     Two, my feelings for Gladio are mixed at best—a lot of it's due to
     chapter ten, but there are other reasons. I don't dislike him, but
     he's least my favourite chocobro. That said, I choked the fuck up a
     few times while writing this. So keep that in mind, I suppose.
See the end of the work for more notes
"I feel like my feet are going to fall off," Prompto whines as they all trudge
back to the Regalia. It's been a long day of hunts, and they're all tired,
dirty, and hungry, more than ready to get to a motel or caravan where they can
shower and collapse on soft, clean beds. Relatively speaking.
Noct gives him an amused look. "We'll just get Specs to sew them back on for
you."
Prompto makes a choking noise that's half aborted laughter, half disgust, even
as Ignis gives the prince a withering glare. "I think not," he says dryly.
"Prompto is more than capable of sewing his own feet back on."
"You guys are mean," Prompto pouts, and then turns his attention to Gladio up
ahead, calling out to him. "Hey, big guy! Come carry me the rest of the way!"
Gladio simply grunts at him, not in the mood to join in the banter for once.
"No." Behind him, there's silence for a moment, and then he hears Prompto
whisper, "What's with him?" but he ignores it. He's been on edge all day, and
for once taking his frustration out on rampaging beasts hasn't improved his
mood. Tomorrow they're going to Lestallum to meet up with Iris, and though he's
desperate to see his baby sister with his own eyes and reassure himself that
she's okay, at the same time he's dreading it. He doesn't want to hear about
what happened to Insomnia, or about how his dad is dead. Cor hadn't been able
to confirm it like he had with the king's death, but Gladio's not stupid. His
dad would have been right there next to King Regis, and if King Regis had been
killed, then so had his dad.
Soon enough they reach the Regalia, and Gladio climbs in the back with a sigh,
ignoring Noctis' grumbles about how they're going to mess up the car with all
the dirt and blood on them. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back
against the seat, and stays that way all the way back to the chocobo ranch.
                                     * * *
Hearing about the attack from Iris is even harder than Gladio had expected it
to be, though he's proud of Iris for keeping herself together and not breaking
down during her recall. She might just turn into the toughest Amicitia yet.
Afterwards, he stays behind as the others leave to go to their own room, and
asks her about Clarus. The confirmation leaves a dull ache in his chest, even
though he'd expected it.
"Before we left the manor, I got something," she says shyly, going over to her
bed. "It's not much, but... it was something small I could carry, and I thought
it might be important enough..."
Gladio watches curiously as she reaches under her pillow, clueless as to what
she could have grabbed before fleeing, eyes widening in surprise when she pulls
out an old but familiar photo album. She holds it out to him uncertainly, and
he takes it carefully. He hasn't looked through it in years, and he has no idea
what sort of pictures might be in it. He hopes there's at least a few pictures
of his dad. It would be nice to have one, though he's never been much of a
picture guy. Prompto's constant photographing of everything is slowly changing
that, though.
"I thought you might want to look through it, maybe take a few pictures for the
road," she says quietly, her voice trembling slightly.
"Thanks," he says gruffly, wishing he knew how to better convey how touched he
is by her thoughtfulness. He's never been good with his emotions, but of course
his sister's grown up with him, and picks up on the unspoken words. Iris gives
him a watery smile, sniffing lightly as she nods. He throws an arm around her
shoulder, pulling her into a sideways hug briefly. Then he heads to the room
he's sharing with the other three. Prompto appears to be showering when he gets
there, and Ignis is over by the small kitchenette, making them dinner. Noct's
absorbed in his phone, and neither of them notices as he slides the album under
the pillow he plans to claim for the night.
He takes his turn in the shower after Prompto, and when he gets out Ignis has
dinner ready. They're all quiet while they eat, still weighed down by the
heaviness of their discussion earlier. Afterwards Prompto helps Ignis clean up,
and then they all crawl into bed, not in the mood to stay up and play games
like they normally might.
The next morning they're all up early, and Iris offers to take them all on a
tour of a city. It's clear she's trying to be cheerful after yesterday, but
Gladio declines, even while making sure the rest of them still go. He wants a
chance to look at the album in private before he gives it back to Iris, and
this might be the only time he gets. Once they're all gone, and there's been
enough time that he's sure Noct or Prompto won't come barging back in for
anything forgotten, he pulls the album out and settles himself down on the bed,
staring down at it.
It's old and worn, the spine cracked, the material on the cover peeling in
places, the corners bent. No one's added pictures to it since he was about
thirteen, so he's surprised Iris even thought of it when Insomnia was being
attacked, much less actually took the time to grab it.
With a sigh, he opens it up, and flips idly through the pages, looking through
the pictures with a curious sort of emotional detachment. Most are of him and
Iris as children, and he doesn't remember them being taken. Some are of his
dad, and make his throat tighten up with grief, so he doesn't linger over them
too much, though he notes a few he'd like to take. He's maybe halfway through
the album when he suddenly comes across one that makes bile rise in his throat
and a rapid heartbeat start pounding in his chest.
It's a picture of him and his old trainer, when he'd first started his more
advanced training to prepare for joining the Crownsguard and being Noctis'
shield. He'd been about ten or eleven at the time, he can no longer recall his
exact age. It had been shortly after Noct had been attacked by that daemon,
after he'd woken from his coma but before he and King Regis had left to go to
Tenebrae. Gladio was supposed to have started that training with his dad, but
everyone had been too busy fussing over Noct at that time, his dad included,
and so a trainer had been hired for him instead.
"He's an old friend of mine," Clarus says, ruffling his fingers through
Gladiolus' hair fondly. "He'll take good care of you."
"Yes sir," Gladiolus mutters, swallowing down his resentment for the prince. It
isn't the prince's fault he'd been attacked, and it isn't as if he's asking
everybody to baby him. Still, his dad hadpromised. It's so unfair. He knows
complaining will get him nowhere though, so he follows his dad silently down to
the Citadel's training hall, where his new trainer is already waiting. He's
nothing like Gladiolus had been expecting—young looking, with thick brown hair
pulled neatly back into a ponytail, and hazel eyes that look friendly and
inviting. He's also tall and lithe, and a casual observer might think he could
easily be snapped in half like a twig, but Gladiolus notes the muscles in his
arms and knows there's strength lurking in them.
"You must be Gladiolus Amicitia," he says, greeting Gladiolus warmly with a
smile and dimples. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Your dad's been telling me
some great things about your skill—he says you've got real promise."
Gladiolus flushes, privately pleased at the praise. His dad doesn't often offer
praise, so to hear it even indirectly fills him with a sense of pride. "Thank
you, sir," he says politely.
"Ah, that's right, I've neglected to introduce myself! My name is Cassius, and
please do use it. I much prefer it to sir, sir makes me feel old," he says with
a wink, and Gladiolus smiles despite himself.
Gladio squeezes his eyes shut tight at the old memory, trying desperately to
will it away before all the others he's worked so hard to not think about come
rushing back. Unfortunately, it's too late, that one memory has opened the
floodgates, and he remembers all of it with a sudden clarity he's successfully
avoided for years. He remembers how his resentment for Noct had grown and grown
as the prince had gotten worse and kept his dad busy running after the king, so
that Gladio rarely spent time with his dad anymore. How Cassius—or Cass, as
he'd eventually let Gladio call him—had constantly praised him and showered him
with attention, and how he'd latched on to that attention, craving it. Cass had
made him feel so special, like he was even more important than the prince in
Cass' eyes, and like Cass had really cared about him when no one else had
seemed to. For awhile, he'd even had a secret fantasy that Cass was actually
his real dad, and that had only grown as the man had started spending time with
him outside of training, first just helping him with homework, but soon taking
him out for dinner or ice cream, and eventually to Cass' apartment where they'd
watch movies or play video games and Cass let him eat all the junk food his dad
denied him.
The first time had been at Cass' apartment during a movie. They'd been together
on Cass' small couch, Gladio lying down on his back with his head in Cass' lap,
turned just enough to see the screen. Cass had been absently running his
fingers through his hair, and Gladio had hummed in contentment, enjoying the
sensation. Clarus had never been one for a lot of physical affection—a manly
clap on the shoulder was the most Gladio ever really got, maybe a hug for the
really important moments. Halfway through the movie though, Cass' hand had
shifted.
"Cass?" Gladiolus asks, stiffening a bit uncertainly as the man's fingers leave
his hair to start trailing softly down his bare chest, circling around his
small nipples but never touching them. He'd spilled soda down his shirt
earlier, and Cass had made him take it off so he could throw it in the wash.
Gladiolus had thought nothing of it then, but now he really wishes he'd asked
for one of Cass' shirts, even if it would be ridiculously large on him.
"Hmm?" Cass looks down at him briefly, smiling gently. Gladiolus always loves
it when Cass smiles at him. It's a real, genuine smile, one that Gladiolus has
never seen directed at anyone else. It's meant just for him, and it warms his
heart every time he sees it.
"What are you doing?"
The smile drops, and with it, so does Gladiolus' stomach. He has the sense that
he's upset the man, and immediately he feels bad. Cass is always so nice to
him, he didn't mean to upset him. "Does it not feel good?" Cass asks him
softly, pausing in his movements.
Gladiolus hesitates, confused. Itdoesfeel good, but it's weird too, though he's
not sure why. No one's ever touched his chest before, at least not likethat,
and it makes him a bit uncomfortable. He doesn't know if it's allowed. Is it
something a dad would normally do? Gladiolus has no way of knowing. "It does,
but..." he trails off, not sure how to put what he's feeling into words.
"I just want to make you feel good," Cass whispers. "You deserve it. You're
such a good boy, and you mean so much to me. I just want to show you how
special you are."
At that, Gladiolus feels his face heat up. Cass' words make him feel dizzy, but
in a good sort of way. No one's ever told him he was special before. Even
though he's still not sure about it, he can't possibly deny Cass now. "Okay,"
he says quietly. He forces himself to relax when Cassius starts running his
fingers around his nipples again, and tries to focus on the movie that's still
playing on the small tv. The first time Cassius' rough, callused tips brush
over one of his nipples, he jerks, both with surprise and at how good it feels.
It makes him even more uncomfortable though, and yet he says nothing, not
wanting to hurt the man's feelings again.
Cass focuses on his nipples for awhile, alternating between them, and it's not
long before they're hard little peaks standing up against his chest, the way
they do sometimes when he's really cold. He's feeling funny all over,
especially down in his underwear, and even though it also feels good, he isn't
sure he likes it. It makes him feel a little ashamed, that Cassius is doing
this nice thing for him, and he can't even be a good enough kid to appreciate
it.
When Cass' hand dips lower, edging under the waistband of his pants and
skirting along his underwear, Gladiolus can't keep quiet anymore. "Cass—" he
starts, his voice higher than normal. He's pretty sure now that this iswrong.
His dad had given him a talk about sex a few years ago, and most of it had went
over his head, but his dad had been very firm about never letting a stranger
touch him inappropriately, and Gladiolus is certain that touching his penis is
inappropriate. Although, Cass isn't a stranger... he's not sure if the rules
are the same if it's someone he knows. His dad hadn't said anything about that.
And Cass has always been good to him.
"Shh." Cass hushes him, actually putting a finger to Gladiolus' lips. "I just
want to make you feel good," he repeats. "I promise, you'll like this. I'm not
going to hurt you, don't worry."
Gladiolus worries at his lower lip, trying to figure out how to tell Cass he
doesn't want this without making the man feel bad. Cass is just trying to be
nice to him, and he feels terrible about rejecting it, but he really doesn't
like all the conflicting feelings it's giving him. Cass takes his silence as
consent, however, and slides his fingers underneath Gladio's underwear, his
knuckles bumping up against Gladiolus' small erection. Gladiolus feels a jolt
of pleasure rush through him, and can't help the gasp that escapes his lips.
Cass looks down at him and smiles. "See?" he murmurs. "It's gonna feel great."
After that everything happens fast, and Gladiolus is too caught up in the rush
of confusing emotions to remember to protest. He obediently lifts his hips when
asked, and Cass tugs his pants and underwear down to his knees. The worn and
scratchy fabric of the couch feels itchy against Gladiolus' now bare butt, and
he resists the urge to scritch at it. There's a sudden rush of cool air from
the AC vent across his groin, and it makes him shiver. He crosses his arms over
his chest, feeling exposed and vulnerable. The movie's playing on in the
background, a dramatic car chase scene involving multiple wrecks and
explosions, and the flickering light from the changing colours splays across
Cass' face, reflecting in his eyes as he stares down at Gladiolus in the
darkened room, an odd expression on his face that Gladiolus has never seen
before. Then there's an audible swallow from the man as he reaches his hand
back out and wraps it around Gladiolus' hard penis. Gladiolus remains silent,
but he doesn't take his eyes off of Cass' face, even though he's confused and a
little bit scared and his heart's pounding almost out of his chest.
In a quick, smooth motion, Cass slides his hand up Gladiolus' penis, all the
way to the tip of it, and then back down to the base, and Gladiolus' eyes
flutter at the unexpected pleasure, a small moan escaping his lips. Cass does
it over and over, and Gladiolus is torn between telling him to stop and to go
faster, except that his breathing's speeding up and there's this weird pressure
building up in his penis, he doesn't understand what it is, and then before he
knows it there's fire licking along all the nerves in his body, and he's
shuddering all over and crying out, turning sideways to bury his face in Cass'
chest, overwhelmed with everything he's feeling both physically and mentally.
For a moment he thinks he's going to cry, but no tears come.
"Hmm, surprisingly still young enough to come dry," Cass says softly. "A late
bloomer, perhaps?"
Gladiolus says nothing, not understanding the words and letting them wash over
him as he slowly goes back to normal. "Can I get dressed now?" he asks a few
minutes later. He feels dirty, even though he showered after training this
afternoon.
"Of course," Cass says warmly, smiling at him. Gladiolus returns it
automatically, but for the first time, it feels empty. He pulls his clothes
back up and then sits up, hunching over on the couch and pretending to watch
the movie until it's over and Cass finally takes him home. He wants to tell his
dad, but his dad's busy helping King Regis and Prince Noctis prepare to go to
Tenebrae, and isn't at the manor. The resentment bubbles up again, and he
starts to think that maybe what Cass did wasn't so bad. Cass was just trying to
be nice, even if he didn't exactly like it, and at least he was paying
attention to Gladiolus, unlike anybody else. When his dad finally gets home
around midnight, Gladiolus is still awake, lying in bed with his hair still
damp from his second shower, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think
about what Cass had done. His dad peeks in his room to check on him, and he
pretends to be asleep. He tells his dad nothing.
Eyes burning with tears he refuses to let fall, Gladio shakily turns the page
of the album, wanting to get away from the sight of Cassius' smiling face, and
the horrible memory he's just relived. Unfortunately, another picture of the
two of them greets him, taken during a training session on one of the rare
times his dad had spared a few minutes to come and watch. It had been a couple
of months after Cassius' abuse had started, and even in a still photograph
Gladio can see the effects of it on his body—he's thinner than he had any right
to be with all of the training he'd done daily, and there are permanent dark
circles under his eyes. His hair falls limp and greasy about his face—he's
pretty sure this picture was taken a few weeks after he'd stopped showering,
when he'd developed a strong aversion to them after Cass had performed oral on
him for the first time during a shower. That had also been the first time he
hadn't orgasmed dry. Cass had been so proud of him, and he'd soaked in the
praise desperately, even as he'd tried not to throw up from what had just
happened.
The sound of a keycard in the door makes Gladio jerk, and he slams the photo
album shut, sliding it under the nearest pillow before he jumps up and rushes
to the bathroom, closing the door and locking it just as he hears the other one
open, Noct and Prompto's chatter fast filling the room. Gladio leans against
the closed door, taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself and shove
all the memories of Cass back to that dark corner of his brain where'd they
resided before, in a tightly locked safe that he'd worked hard to learn to
ignore. He swipes at his eyes angrily, wiping away unshed tears. He hasn't
cried over Cass since he was a child, and he's damned if he's going to start
now. He doesn't need to—he got over it.
He keeps breathing deep, steadying himself, and eventually he feels okay enough
to go out and face the guys. He flushes the toilet to make it seem like he'd
come in for a reason, then washes his hands and opens the door.
"Hey big guy!" Prompto greets him cheerfully, bouncing back up from his bed in
eagerness. "You really should have come with us, Lestallum is amazing! They
have so many cool shops, and the market is huge, and oh, I saw this place that
sells a really delicious looking root beer you'd probably like..."
Gladio grins at Prompto, letting his excited words wrap around him, bringing a
sense of normalcy and stability that he desperately needs. He still feels sick
from the onslaught of earlier memories, but they're just distant enough for him
to pretend he's fine.
"Oh, and Talcott gave us a tip!" Prompto says happily.
"A tip?" Gladio asks, frowning slightly. What sort of tip could a little kid
possibly have for them?
"Might be a royal tomb in a cave behind a waterfall. There's one nearby," Noct
says.
"We gonna check it out?"
"That's the plan."
"Sounds good," Gladio says. He means it, too. Beating shit up is his kind of
therapy. "We going now?"
"No time like the present," Ignis remarks, and Gladio grins, a touch vicious.
"Let's go then."
                                     * * *
When they get back to the Leville that night, Gladio's so tired that he thinks
he could collapse right there and not get up until the next afternoon. He skips
his shower, ignoring Ignis' disapproving glare, and after forcing himself to
eat he crawls into the bed, in the spot closest to the door, and closes his
eyes. He listens to the others getting ready for bed, senses the room darken as
one of them turns off the lights, feels the bed dip as Ignis gets in next to
him, and expects to drop off any minute.
But sleep doesn't come. Now that he's not busy fighting to defend Noct's life,
thoughts of Cass are once more filling his head, and with them comes all the
old emotions he's had buried for years. He's hated himself for so long, for
being so pathetic to let Cass abuse him just because he was jealous of all the
attention Noctis got, for not telling Cass no, for not telling his dad after
that first time... There's a hundred different ways it's always been his fault
that it happened, and he's been ashamed of himself for it ever since that very
first incident. More so, he's ashamed that he let it continue, that he let it
keep escalating until he didn't have a single shred of innocence left.
But Cassius had always made him feel so bad about wanting to say no, telling
him he wanted Gladio to feel special, to feel loved, to show him how much he
meant to Cass... how could he have possibly said no to that? He'd always felt
so ungrateful for not liking it. And Cass had been very good about leaving him
confused on whether it was wrong or not. He'd just been heading into puberty,
and even though he'd hated it, it had felt good, and Cass was always murmuring
to him about how hard he was, how much he must want it...
"Cass—"
"Shh, Gladiolus, I won't hurt you, I just want you to feel as good as you make
me feel."
Gladiolus swallows back his tears at those words, and lets Cass continue to use
his mouth on Gladiolus' nipples, alternating between sucking on them and
licking them with his tongue. It's warm, wet heat all over, and it's nothing
like Gladiolus has experienced yet, and he hates how good it feels. He can feel
his penis—his dick, as Cass had told him to call it from now on—growing hard in
his underwear, and he bites back a sob. Why is he getting hard, he
doesn'twantthis, at least he doesn't think so...
Cass shifts to straddle him, careful to make sure his weight doesn't crush him,
and Gladiolus can feel Cass' hardness pressing against his own. "I can feel how
hard you are for me, Gladiolus," Cass murmurs softly in his ear. "I can tell by
your hardness that you want this so much, you're loving it. You're such a good
boy, I'm going to make it feel amazing for you."
Gladiolus remains silent, wondering if Cass is right. If he truly didn't want
it, then he wouldn't have gotten hard, right? He thinks that's how his dad had
explained it to him a few years ago, and it matches up with what Cass is
telling him now. So even if he hates it, he must want it.
Cassius moves then, slowly rolling his hips to rock against Gladiolus,
eliciting a low, involuntarily moan from him as pleasure glides along the
nerves in his body. Cass reaches out, scraping his nails gently across
Gladiolus' nipples, causing his eyes to flutter as he curls his fingers into
the bedsheets, overwhelmed by the simultaneous sensations assaulting his body.
It makes him feel so dirty and wrong, and when Cass leans forward, pressing
rough lips against his mouth, he turns his head.
"Gladiolus, don't you like me?" Cass asks softly as he pulls back, hurt
flooding his tone.
He jerks his head back at that, eyes flying open in shock. "I do!" he cries.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, it's just..." he lets the words fade out, unable
to say what he's really feeling.
"It's okay," Cass says. "It's still new. You'll love it soon enough." He
thrusts against him, using more pressure this time, repeating the motion
faster, and Gladiolus' breath speeds up, gasping out of him in wet little
bubbles. Cass leans down again, covering Gladiolus' mouth with his own,
hungrily sucking down the noises he's making. Gladiolus allows it, feeling
sick. He misses the way things used to be between them, when he imagined Cass
being his dad, and the two of them would have fun together, eating junk food
and watching movies, and sometimes even going to the park and 'camping' all
day, though they could never stay overnight. Now Cass only ever wants to do
things like this, and he dreads the time they spend together. He misses his
real dad.
His eyes glitter with unshed tears as Cass finally lets up on his mouth, but
Cass is humping against him rapidly now, and there's that familiar tightening
in his stomach and balls that he hates, the one that means he's going to 'come'
soon, as Cass always calls it. "Cass," he cries, always hoping that Cass will
stop before it happens, but the man never does.
"Shh, let it happen. Come for me, Gladiolus," Cass says, grinding down on him,
and the friction quickly proves to be too much. He can tell that Cassius
follows moments after, groaning and pressing him down into the mattress, his
fingers digging bruisingly into Gladiolus' hips.
Afterwards, he lies limply on the bed, drained and still trembling slightly.
Cass smiles at him, and tells him how good he is, but he only feels empty.
"Fuck," he whispers softly, knowing the other three men are all asleep by now.
He's beginning to wish Iris had never grabbed that damn photo album. He
remembers now why he hadn't looked through it in years. His chest feels tight
with an ache for his younger, stupid self, and his eyes are shining with tears
he refuses to acknowledge. He feels shaky, and the more he remembers the things
Cass did to him, the more he feels himself turning back into that little boy,
too afraid to be assertive and go against anyone with authority, and too weak
in both body and mind to defend himself against Cass' manipulations.
Suddenly angry, he has to mightily resist the urge to roll over and throw a
hard punch into the mattress. If he does, he'll wake Ignis up, and he has no
idea how to explain this to any of them, or any desire to. It's been a secret
ever since it happened, and the thought of changing that terrifies him.
Besides, he's not weak now. Cassius eventually left, his job done, and Gladio
had thrown himself headlong into his training, determined to never let anyone
take advantage of him like that again, and wanting to be as strong as possible
so he could protect himself in case anyone tried. It had taken him years, but
he'd slowly locked away what Cass had done to him, and gained muscle, and with
it strength, and had made damned sure no one ever hurt him again. He'd moved
on, and he's not going to let it come back and tear him apart now.
Somehow, he finally manages to fall asleep, but it's filled with nightmares of
Cassius, and when he wakes to Ignis' alarm in the morning he feels even more
exhausted. He drags himself into the bathroom and turns on the shower, making
the water run as hot as he can stand it, and strips down, hoping the warmth
will soothe away the aches of his poor sleep and ease some of his tension.
And yet, he can't bring himself to step into the tub. It's been years since he
was afraid of showering, but now he stands just outside it, shower curtain
pulled partially back, stark naked and paralysed with fear as he stares at the
water beating down inside. There's nothing there, and he knows it, but in his
mind he can see Cassius and his younger self. He's got his back pressed up
against the wall at the end of the tub, fists clenched tightly at his sides,
his chest heaving with panicked breaths. Cassius is on his knees in front of
him, water slicking his hair and making it trail low down his back. He's got
his mouth wrapped around Gladio's dick, cheeks hollowed and head bobbing as he
sucks and licks. There are tears running down Gladio's face non-stop, and older
Gladio remembers the overpowering sense of wrong, bad, dirty he'd felt, red-hot
shame washing over him in intense waves.
His stomach lurches, and he drops to his knees in front of the toilet, but
nothing actually comes up. After a moment he stands on shaky legs and shuts the
shower off, electing to use the sink and a washcloth to get the worst of
yesterday's grime off. Ignis raises an eyebrow at his obviously not-wet hair
when he finally leaves the bathroom, but he ignores the other man, dropping
wearily down into a chair and pulling out his phone.
He can already tell it's going to be a long day.
                                     * * *
The day's even longer than Gladio had expected, and even though they haven't
said anything, he can tell the other three men are worried about him, with how
many times he'd fucked up in battle, dropping swings he should have had,
leaving himself wide open for hits he'd normally easily avoid, missing Noct's
cues to team up and attack. Noct, especially, has been glancing constantly over
at him during the ride back to Lestallum, and even though he knows Noct has
every right, it's starting to grate on Gladio's nerves. It wasn't as if he
could help his poor behaviour during battles—the lack of sleep combined with
the distraction of trying not to keep thinking about Cassius had easily put him
off his game, not that he can tell Noctis that.
On the way back to the Leville, Gladio spots a small building tucked away down
one of the side alleys, and makes an impulse decision, not caring that it's
probably a bad one. He just wants to forget everything again, if only for
awhile. "Hey," he says, grabbing the others' attention. "Who wants to hit up
that bar over there?"
"Ooh, me, me!" Prompto cries gleefully, throwing a hand up in the air. He's
still new enough to being legal that drinking is still a novelty, and Gladio
knows it. Had counted on it, in fact.
Noct shrugs, looking between the two men, and Gladio carefully avoids the
concern glittering in his blue eyes. "Sure," Noct says easily. "A few drinks
might be just what we need after today."
Ignis sighs, crossing his arms and shaking his head, though Gladio can tell
he's not as displeased as he's affecting. "I suppose I'm outnumbered."
Noct grins at him. "Sorry, Specs."
Prompto darts down the alleyway towards the entrance of the bar, calling
impatiently over his shoulder. "Hurry up, slowpokes!"
Gladio allows a smile to steal over his face, and follows after him. After a
moment, Ignis and Noct do the same.
When they get in, the bar's little more than a hole in the wall, with no decor
to speak of and looking as if it hasn't been updated since the early 700s when
it was likely built. There's only a handful of people there, all older men
except for the two middle-aged ones playing pool at one of the two tables. An
ancient looking jukebox is against the far wall, half its neon lights busted,
creaking out a static-filled slow rock song. A faded menu above the long bar
counter lists typical greasy bar food. The bar's a little warm, a few ceiling
fans swirling in lazy circles and succeeding only in pushing the hot air
around. Right now, it suits Gladio perfectly. He leads them to one of the
tilted round wooden tables near a corner away from both the pool tables and the
jukebox, carefully settling his large frame onto one of the rickety looking
stools.
A young woman soon comes over to take their orders, wearing a revealing tank
and skimpy shorts that remind him of Cindy. Immediately she begins flirting
with him, and taking every opportunity to lean over and give him an ample view
of her well-endowed bosom. Normally Gladio would enjoy both the sight and the
attention, and reciprocate happily in the hopes of having a partner for the
evening, but tonight he's not in the mood—the thought of sex with anyone right
now makes him feel nauseous.
When his beer arrives, he downs half of it in one go, raising eyebrows around
the table. "You okay, big guy?" Prompto asks cautiously.
He downs the other half and slams the empty bottle on the table, grinning a
little sickly at the kid. "Perfect."
The waitress—he thinks her name is Molly, or Sally, something like that—sashays
back over to their table, bending down with an exaggerated motion to pick up
Gladio's empty bottle, making sure he gets an eyeful. "Get you another, honey?"
she asks with a wink, and he nods.
Six beers and a few shots later, his head is swimming unpleasantly and he
worries he's going to be sick. He normally has no problem holding his liquor,
but he also doesn't normally drink on an empty stomach, either. This just might
have been a mistake. He staggers up from the table, muttering something to the
others about fresh air, and makes his way outside, leaning against the wall of
the alley opposite the entrance, taking deep breaths and trying not to barf
everything back up. Instead of helping him forget, the alcohol has brought the
memories of Cassius swirling back to the front of his mind, his soft, gentle
voice echoing in his head. Worse, it's the one memory he's never wanted to
think of again—the time Cassius had completely taken the last bit of innocence
from him.
"You alright, hon?"
Gladio looks up in surprise. Molly—or Sally, he's still not sure—is standing
just outside the bar, looking at him worriedly. Or at least he thinks she is,
given that her face is a little blurry to him at the moment. "Fine," he says
gruffly.
She walks over to him, placing a hand gently on his arm. The touch makes his
skin crawl, but he doesn't want to be rude or make a scene, so he says nothing.
"Honey, if I can be blunt, you look like you're about ta fall over. Or lose
your supper."
"I'm fine," he insists, though she's not wrong. Her hand is still on his arm,
and it's beginning to make him feel panicky, so he shifts his body some, moving
his arm away and trying to make it look it natural.
"Sugar, you're sweating," she points out. "You sick?"
"No. Just a bit too much to drink," he says shortly. He really wants her to go
back inside, but right now he feels more like that scared little boy Gladiolus
than the tough, grown up Gladio, and he can't bring himself to ask her to
leave. It's a little like Cass all over again—she's just trying to be nice, but
he doesn't like it. He's ungrateful, as always.
"You sure?" she asks, doubt clear in her voice. "Here, lemme feel your
temperature."
"No, I—" but she's already leaning against him, reaching her hand up to his
forehead, and she's just short enough that she needs to stand on her tiptoes,
her large breasts pressing tightly against his chest, and he can feel her hard
nipples digging into him. She's not just being nice.
He stands there as she feels his forehead, frozen in shock, unable to really
process what's happening. "You don't feel warm," she murmurs to him. "But I got
somethin' that might fix ya right up." Her lips brush across his, soft and slow
as she presses closer to him, her hand fumbling to cup his thankfully still
limp dick through his pants, and it's enough for him to regain his senses. He
rips away from her, feeling violated and even more nauseous, stumbling back a
few steps as he roars at her. "Get the hell away from me!" A few more steps,
and then he's throwing up everything he's drank in the past hour, acrid liquid
spattering on the pavement in front of him, shredding and burning his throat as
he heaves deep from his gut.
Molly-Sally's eyes widen as she stares at him, and then she whirls without a
word and goes back inside. He pays her no mind, and as soon as he stops
vomiting he starts making his way for the Leville. The other guys will probably
worry when they realise he's ditched them, but he just needs to be alone for
awhile. He can't be around them like this.
By some miracle he makes it back to the hotel safely, and up to the room the
four of them share. He closes the door and begins to head towards the bed, just
wanting to lay down and sleep everything away, but he only makes it a few steps
when suddenly he's sinking down to the carpet, and before he knows it sobs are
ripping out of his sore throat as the events that just happened hit him full
force. He'd let someone take him advantage of him again, because he was too
cowardly to speak up and just say no. His fault—it's always his fault. Tears
flood his face, and he brings his hands up, burying his head in them as he
cries. He hates himself for losing it like this, but he's too far gone to stop,
his whole body shuddering all over from the force of his loud sobs as he rocks
back and forth, unable to calm himself down. There's an intense ache in his
chest, making it feel tight, and hard to breathe.
Cass' voice is in his mind again, whispering that it's okay, that he's going to
make Gladiolus feel good, really good, and he can almost feel the phantom
touches of Cass' hands running all along his body.
"It might hurt a little at first, Gladiolus, but I promise, it will feel really
good soon. You'll love it."
"Cass, I don't know..." Gladiolus whimpers, shivering. He's naked on Cass' bed
again, but the room isn't cold—he's just afraid. He doesn't want to try
whatever Cass has in mind, and he hopes that maybe this time, Cass will finally
stop.
Instead, Cass simply ignores him, trailing a lubed finger up his inner thigh
and under his balls, seeking until he finds the small hole he's looking for.
Gladiolus jerks as Cass rubs his finger around it, pushing in ever so slightly.
It feels weird, more weird than anything they've ever done, and even more dirty
and wrong. Then there's a sharp pain as the finger spears inside him in one
sudden move, and he can't help the cry that bursts from him lips. "No!"
Cass looks up at him, his face sad, but there's a warning in his voice when he
says "Gladiolus..."
"I don't want to do this, Cass. Please," Gladiolus says, and lets out a sob
before he can force it back.
"It won't hurt for long," Cass says, and then begins to thrust his finger in
and out, slowly at first but soon building up speed. It doesn't stop
hurting—it's tight, and far too dry despite the lubrication, and it feels as if
he's being stabbed and torn with every single thrust. It only gets worse when
Cass adds a second finger, and he's crying in earnest now, chantingno no no no
noover and over, but Cass never lets up.
He's relieved when the fingers finally leave, but then Cass gets between his
legs, lifting them up against his chest, angling him awkwardly, and suddenly
the pain's a hundred times worse, and Gladiolus actuallyscreams, loud, the
sound reverberating around the room before Cass slaps a hand across his mouth.
"It's okay, Gladiolus," he murmurs, almost feverishly. "It's gonna feel good
soon, it's gonna make you harder than you've ever been before, you're gonna
come so hard for me..." He uses his other hand to gather up Gladiolus' wrists,
pinning them to the mattress, stretched painfully above his head.
Gladiolus feels his tears dripping down his cheeks, gathering around Cass'
fingers. He squeezes his eyes shut, knowing that Cass' penis is inside him, and
it's ripping him apart as the man starts thrusting, setting a brutal pace from
the start, and he's never felt more violated in his life.
"I hate you," he chokes out through the sobs, and he doesn't know if he's
talking to Cass or himself. The horrible memory makes everything worse, and he
feels ungrounded, and a bit hysterical. He can't stop the recall flashing
through his mind, and it hurts so much—it's too much for him to bear. Even
though it's been years, he feels Cass' hands wrapped around his wrists,
gripping tight, hurting him. He lets out a pained cry, and begins clawing at
the left one with the fingers of his right, digging into the flesh, drawing
blood as he tries to make it all disappear.
"Gladio, stop," a soft voice commands firmly, and then gentle hands are tugging
at his right wrist, pulling it carefully away from his left one. For one
terrified moment he thinks it's Cass, and he cries out, trying to pull away,
but then Ignis' face comes into his field of view, blurry through his tears,
and he stops, allowing the movement.
"Iggy," he gasps, and he's only dimly aware that his breathing has turned more
rapid upon spotting his companion—all he really knows is that there's a tight
band on his chest, squeezing and constricting painfully.
"Gladio, you're having a panic attack," he hears Ignis says calmly, and some
part of his brain is still cognizant enough to go, yes, of course, a panic
attack, that makes sense. "You need to take slow, deep breaths."
"Iggy, that's not gonna help him," Noct grouses.
"It's exactly what he should do to calm a panic attack," Ignis says
defensively.
"Yes, I know, but—" there's frustration in Noct's voice "—never mind. Gladio.
Gladio!" Noct waits until Gladio focuses his attention on his charge, as much
as he can in his panicked state, before he goes on. "You know how you're always
telling me it's your job to focus for me when I'm upset? This time I'm going to
do it for you. Just follow along with my breathing, okay? Don't think about
anything else, just listen to my breathing and copy it."
Prompto chimes in, briefly. "Trust him, big guy. I used to get panic attacks
all the time and Noct always brought me out of them."
Gladio manages a nod, then tries desperately to do as Noct says—and it's hard
at first, trying to mimic Noct's slow, exaggerated breaths through his panicked
sobs, but gradually the deep breaths become easier, and eventually his
breathing's steady again, though the tears are still running down his cheeks in
a constant stream. He avoids looking up at his friends. He feels drained, and
so incredibly embarrassed. He knows he's going to have to tell them now, and he
dreads their reactions. Will Noct still want him as a shield, when he realises
how weak and pathetic Gladio really is? A stray sob escapes him at the thought,
but he chokes the rest down, too worn out to get back into another panic
attack.
"Prompto, can you bring me the first aid kit?" Ignis requests softly.
"Sure thing," Prompto says, his voice equally soft.
Gladio sits limply, watching passively as Ignis gently lifts his injured wrist
into his lap, inspecting the gouges. They're a bit deeper than Gladio would
have expected, but he can tell they're not serious. He's ashamed of them
nonetheless. He hadn't mean to hurt himself, he'd just wanted Cass' touch to go
away. At that reminder, he shudders, once, and then goes still again. Ignis
glances up at him, and Gladio meets his gaze. Ignis' green eyes are full of
warmth and concern, but Gladio can't bear them. He looks away, back down at his
wrist.
"They're not too bad," Ignis says, still speaking in a quiet tone. He gets some
antiseptic wipes from the first aid kit Prompto's brought, tearing open one of
the packages and lowering it gently to the scratches. Gladio winces at the
initial sting, but otherwise allows Ignis to clean them without protest. After
that Ignis gets a gauze pad out and places it against the scratches, getting
Prompto to hold it in place while he wraps a roll of gauze around it, using his
sewing scissors to neatly snip the excess off, finishing it off with a piece of
gauze tape to hold it in place.
"Thank you," Gladio says hoarsely, though he still doesn't look at any of them.
He's humiliated that they've seen him break down now. He wonders what brought
them all back so early, how they'd known he'd left.
As if reading his mind, Noct speaks up. "That waitress that kept flirting with
you, she came and told us you got sick. When we went outside to find you, you
were already gone."
Gladio can't hold back another shudder at the mention of Molly-Sally. He's
learned to enjoy sex with both women and men despite his abuse, but he's always
been in control of the situation, always consented to it up front. Tonight
there had been neither of those things.
"What happened?" Noct asks seriously.
Gladio lets out a shaky breath, bringing his uninjured hand up to wipe at his
eyes. His tears had finally stopped while Ignis had been bandaging him, but his
face is still soaked with the remnants. He sniffles a few times, but doesn't
speak yet. He still doesn't have a clue how to start, but more than that, he's
afraid, plain and simple. Big, tough, Gladio, the man who never cries, never
shows fear or sadness, brought undone and reduced to the point of tears by
memories of a man he hasn't seen for half his life. How can they possibly
respect him after this?
"Gladio," Ignis says, in a tone that makes Gladio force himself to meet Ignis'
eyes and hold them, though it leaves him feeling vulnerable. "If it's something
personal, and you really wish not to tell us, then we won't pry, but know that
we're all just worried for you, and would never judge you for whatever has
upset you so."
Gladio casts his eyes to the right, where Prompto's rocking back on his
haunches anxiously. Prompto grins at him, though he's twisting his fingers in
the fabric of his shirt. "Yeah! I mean, you're our friend, and we care, you
know? Whatever it is, it's not gonna scare us away!"
A firm nod from Noct to his left tells him that the prince feels the same way,
even if he's not capable of expressing it in words.
He wants to believe them all, he really does, but right now they have no clue
what they're hastily promising not to judge, and he fully expects them to
change their mind once he tells them. The thought cuts deep, even though he
can't bring himself to blame them. It's his fault alone. He's never been strong
enough. "There's a book under my pillow," he says hoarsely, and after a
hesitant moment Noct gets up and goes over to the bed, pulling the album out
with a look of confusion on his face. He tries to hand it over to Gladio, but
Gladio shakes his head at him. He doesn't want to touch it anymore. "Open it,"
he says.
Noct does, his expression not clearing any when he sees the old pictures. He
sinks back down to the floor, arranging himself so Prompto and Ignis can see,
and then looks over at his shield. "What am I looking for?"
"Towards the middle." By the Six, does his throat hurt. He's not going to be
able to talk for the next day or two, not that it's necessarily a bad thing.
He's just glad that the effects of the alcohol have mostly left him.
Noct grabs a hefty stack of pages and turns them over, and then flips slowly
through the rest of the photos until Gladio sees the second one of him and
Cassius, the one his dad had taken during training, and stops him. "There."
"This one?" Noct asks, pointing to it, and Gladio nods. He sees the three of
them glance at each other, clearly not certain why this picture had their
oldest and least emotional friend sobbing hysterically in the middle of the
hotel room floor.
"Who is it?" Prompto finally dares to ask him.
"He was tasked with training me, preparing me to join the Crownsguard in a few
years from then and start their rigorous training, so that I could one day
train Noct and be his shield. His name was Cassius," Gladio says quietly,
swallowing hard as he says Cass' name out loud for the first time in years.
"Ah yes, I recall seeing the two of you around the palace sometimes, before our
paths crossed," Ignis says, absently adjusting his glasses. Gladio knows he
tends to do that when he's uncertain, or can't get a grasp of the full picture
of something. "You seemed quite close."
"We were, once, I..." he stops, shuddering again. He's never had to talk about
it before, and it's unbelievably hard, harder than he ever could have imagined.
He tips his head down at the picture. "What do you see when you look at me?" he
asks instead.
The three of them are quiet, studying the picture intently.
"You're really thin," Prompto says at last. "Maybe too thin? It's weird, I've
never seen you without all those muscles. I always thought you were born with
them," he adds, trying for a joke.
Gladio offers him a weak smile, though he's not feeling the humour at the
moment. "Sorry to disappoint."
"You're tired," Noct says. "Those circles under your eyes say you haven't slept
properly in weeks. And your hair looks really dirty, though I guess that's from
the training."
Gladio shakes his head. "I hadn't showered in a few weeks when that picture was
taken."
Noct raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment. There's more quiet, and then Ignis
speaks up. "You look haunted," he says softly. "As if the weight of the world
is on your shoulders, and you're falling apart underneath it. How old are you
in this picture?"
Gladio swallows heavily again, this time trying to force the sudden lump in his
throat to leave. He blinks back more threatening tears as he answers. "Around
ten or eleven. This was during Noct's time in Tenebrae." His friends can see it
so clearly, even in an old and somewhat fading photograph. Why couldn't his
dad, or a maid, or anyone who'd spent time around him then?
"What happened?" Ignis asks, almost in an undertone. Gladio can see the wheels
in his head turning, can see that Ignis is starting to piece things together.
Ignis has already guessed that he'd experienced some sort of trauma, though
he's pretty sure the other man hasn't figured out what yet, or the extent of
it.
"My dad was supposed to be the one to train me," Gladio says in lieu of an
answer. He knows the guys are probably confused still, and wanting a clearer
answer, but they remain patient, letting him talk and get it out in his own
way. "But then Noct got injured, and he was too busy. So he hired Cassius." He
does his best to keep his voice level, and the old resentment out of it, but
judging by the look Noct shoots him, he doesn't quite succeed. "He... he made
me feel special. Like I mattered, when no one else had time for me. He paid
attention to me, when I was desperate for someone to. I was so stupid." His
voice cracks, and he feels ashamed. He looks down at the bandage on his wrist
and is overcome with an urge to rip the gauze off and do even more damage to
it, overwhelmed with hatred for himself.
Everyone's silent for a few moments, and Gladio feels more tears run down his
face. He hates himself even more for being so weak, and his right hand flexes
involuntarily, wanting to tear into his skin. Ignis places his hand over
Gladio's injured wrist then, gently, and Gladio raises red-rimmed eyes, seeing
the pain he feels reflected back at him in Ignis' green irises. "It's not worth
it," Ignis whispers. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and nods before
brushing the tears away and continuing.
"At first Cass just trained me, like he was hired to do. But soon he started
spending his free time with me, tutoring me, taking me out for a treat.
Eventually he started taking me to his apartment. Just the two of us. It was
there that he started... he would... for months, over a year really, he... to
me..." He can't do it, can't bring himself to say the words, to spell it out.
But he doesn't need to, because he can tell the others get it. Ignis' face
falls, and Noct's quietly angry, clenching his fists against his legs.
Prompto's staring at him, shock etched into his features. Gladio sits tensely,
waiting for one of them to do something more.
It's Prompto who breaks first, his face crumpling up as he lets out a sob, a
few tears sliding out from his eyes. Then he's throwing himself at Gladio,
flinging his strong arms around him in a tight hug, burying his face against
Gladio's chest as he cries. Gladio sits rigidly in surprise at first, and then
he slowly lets himself relax as he realises that through his blubbering,
Prompto is speaking. "I'm sorry," he's saying. "I'm so sorry, Gladio, you
didn't deserve to have that happen, I'm sorry..."
When another set of arms wraps around him and Prompto from the side, he starts,
and turns his head in time to see Ignis press his face into the hollow of
Gladio's shoulder. Gladio is blown away to realise that Ignis is trembling,
ever so slightly, and he can feel the man's unsteady breaths ghosting warm
against his skin. A few seconds after that, hesitant arms circle around him
from behind, and then he feels Noct's head rest against his back. "Prompto's
right," Noct mutters to him. "You didn't deserve to have that creep hurt you
like that. You were just a kid. Don't blame yourself."
"I blamed you too," Gladio admits hoarsely, deeply ashamed. "For getting hurt
and taking everyone's attention, even though it wasn't your fault. I hated you
for so long."
"You were just a kid," Noct repeats, his arms tightening. "And you realised
eventually."
"Sexual abuse is only the fault of the abuser," Ignis murmurs. "It matters not
what sort of reactions you had to his abuse, or what he might have said. He is
the only one to blame."
He can't help the resulting shudder at their words. He doesn't feel absolved
from the blame he's placed on himself so long, but their quiet confidence makes
him feel as if he could be, one day. It's a start.
They all fall quiet then, even Prompto's desperate babbling slowly tapering
off. Gladio can feel himself relaxing more under the comforting warmth and
security of his friends, the fear leaving him as he begins to understand
they're not disgusted by him, or think him pathetic and weak. He starts getting
sleepy, his eyes growing heavy, and sighs, knowing he should probably move from
the floor to the bed, though he's quite content in his present position.
Perhaps one small part of the young Gladiolus hadn't been completely wiped out
by Cassius—his friends' current intimacy has made him realise he's never quite
outgrown the need for physical affection, no matter what sort of tough guy
image he puts on.
"I don't mean to break this moment up, but perhaps we should all move to the
bed?" Ignis asks, ever attuned to Gladio's needs.
Gladio nods, exhaustion crashing over him in waves now. Still, they all remain
in their hold for a little longer before Ignis pulls away with obvious
reluctance, climbing to his feet and helping the others up. While the others
take turns brushing their teeth and doing whatever else they need to get ready,
Gladio simply strips down to his boxer-briefs and crawls into the center of one
of the beds, laying on his back as he stares at the ceiling. He wants to sleep,
but he's afraid to close his eyes. He doesn't want nightmares, and he doesn't
want to wake up in the morning and find his friends' acceptance was all just a
cruel dream.
The bed dipping with the weight of an added person jolts him from his thoughts
before they can really take a morbid turn, and then Ignis is pressing in
against his left side, laying on his side, resting an arm on Gladio's chest,
his fingers curled into Gladio's shoulder. He's wearing only an old thin t-
shirt and his boxers, and normally Gladio would raise his eyebrows, but right
now it feels okay. Then Prompto's curling up into his right side, tucking
himself into a foetal position, ruffling his fingers through Gladio's chest
hair and making a satisfied noise as Gladio brings his arm to wrap around
Prompto. He's wearing a t-shirt and shorts, and Gladio knows it'll get sticky
with sweat throughout the night, but he can't bring himself to really mind.
Noct looks at the three of them for a moment, wearing only boxers—which makes
Gladio's eyes raise, just a bit, as Noct's always been self-conscious about the
scar on his back—and then he turns off the light, and Gladio feels him crawling
onto the bed. Then Noct's crawling onto him, letting his legs slide down to
tangle into Prompto's while he cuddles his upper body into Gladio's chest,
resting his head over Gladio's heart. Gladio brings his left arm up, careful
not to jostle Ignis as he lays his hand on Noct's head, mindful of his injured
wrist.
"Night guys," Prompto mumbles, his voice already thick with sleep.
"Good night," Ignis says softly, letting out a breathy little sigh of
contentment. Noct makes a noise that may or not be a word, and reaches down to
pull just the thin sheet over them.
Gladio waits a beat, and then speaks. "Thank you," he says, his voice a quiet
rumble in the room. None of them audibly respond, but all three of them press
up closer against him, just a little, and he feels loved by their presence, and
safe from anything that might want to hurt him. Finally, Gladio allows his eyes
to close, and slips off into sleep.
End Notes
     I'm a little nervous to post this one, so any thoughts or comments
     would be appreciated. I hope it's not too terrible ;;
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
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