#gladnoctweek

"Can it."

"Who'd have thought, after forty-three years of wrecking your joints in service to Lucis and ignoring your every sign of physical weakness?" Noct continues breezily. "What would twenty-year-old you have to say?"

"As if twenty-year-old me could get twenty-year-old you to stretch before bed if our lives depended on it."

"And yet look who's the one who can't even pick up a letter opener now."

"Sorry, who's talking here?"

"Correction: the one who can't pick up a letter opener without being plagued by searing chronic pain."

"More like plagued by a chronic pain in my ass," Gladio growls amicably, and Noct grins, and they fall into a companionable silence in the sharp night air.

The quiet is a halcyon one. Aside from the muted sound of shieldshear claws clicking and the occasional gull calling down by the beach, there's nothing to disturb them this high up; only the barest hint of a breeze stirs at this hour, the ground still cool and atmosphere still tepid, the murky pre-dawn half-light more of a suggestion of sun than anything.

There are lights below, of course. Markers of life for people to see by, sprinkled along the quay. But only a few, and hard-earned; no longer a need for many, and that, too, was hard-earned.

Gladio shifts, a slow stirring, his back scraping against the rough granite. The flex of muscle and pull of tendon in want of healing emit in small noises from his throat — a cut-off groan, the grind of teeth. He breathes, settles again.

"I didn't think I'd live to see forty til ten years ago," he says suddenly, and it comes out surprised, as if ten years ago was yesterday and he's still not sure how it all went down.

Noct expels a breath. "I'm not even sure you're aware of it now," he observes, gentle, amused.

"My shoulder's aware enough for the both of us," Gladio admits.

Noct hums, skeptical, and knocks a knee briefly against the package between them; a friendly, apprehensive nudge. There's a genuine curiosity beneath when he teases — "Then why's this old thing up here with us?"

A good question. It's not something he lugs around just anywhere these days, not anymore.

Gladio looks out towards the ocean a while longer, ignoring the query and the gaze both.

"My dad carried his sword and shield a dozen years more than I have," Gladio manages finally. The words are tight with feeling.

Noct's mouth twists with understanding. "Your dad wielded his for a dozen more years," he corrects. "You've carried yours for twenty more than any Shield has."

Gladio's fingers are calloused, motionless, light on the fabric bound around the steel in the grass between them.

"When was the last time you needed them?" Noct asks.

Gladio's fingers tighten. He inhales, exhales. "Not... for a long time," he admits.

Noct's eyes are searching, his voice serious. He asks, "Then what's the problem?"

From up here on the bluffs, it's as if they can see the whole world from its very edge — the wide, endless expanse of the sky above ink-blue in the west and watery rose-grey in the east, fading seamlessly to meet with the plane of the ocean below. A crescent moon hangs low over the water, a sickle-slice of white suspended above the level tide. The horizon is unbroken except for the empty, abandoned husk of Angelgard sitting in the distance, like a forgotten spectre, an effigy of a prophecy.

Noct waits, patient.

The sky's lighter by increments by the time Gladio eases open the buckles and unwraps the cloth without looking, hands familiar with the motions through years of unthinking practice. His fingertips rest on the bare steel of the blade, naked in the early morning, icy, warm under skin.

Gladio levers himself up — tired, more tired than he usually is — and takes the worn grip in his hands. There's a wince at the twinge in his shoulder, but he knows it'll be the last in — in a while, gods willing.

He raises the sword, broad and gleaming in the shadow, and buries the blade deep, deep into the soft ground at the bottom of the marble steps; it stops only when the ground resists, pressure of dirt and steel, no blue cast of enchantment to follow.

The shield follows, grip against the hilt.

He takes a step back, and another.

"Not so hard, right?" Noct says, soft.

Gladio takes in and memorizes the glow of starlight against the metal, catching on the remnants of scratches too deep to buff out.

He clears his throat. "Take care of this thing," he says, a little too rough to be irreverent.

Noct smiles, easy, and leans back against the wall. "I don't know what you're talking about. Hasn't it always been mine?"

Gladio blinks. "Yeah," he says, voice thick but steady, and then can't think of anything else to say.

"Well," Noct says, like that settles it, and stretches backwards, arms behind his head, closing his eyes. His ever-dark hair tickles his pale cheeks in the low light, and he looks rested in a way Gladio can't remember him looking before.

The dawn is starting to fill the sky above the water, and Gladio needs to head back down soon. It's a long way out here, and it'll be a long way back. He turns to watch the sun streak the blade with light — not the fire of the magic of old, but a hue that's something like it.

Beside it, the king sleeps.

Gladio draws breath after breath before he speaks again.

"I'll see you soon," he says, out of long habit.

"Sure hope not," Noct yawns, and turns away.

Gladio smiles.

His back is straighter all the way down the steps as he descends.

In her death throes the air was clouded by the Naga’s vestiges of magic. To Gladiolus' right, Prompto coughed and swatted the space in front of his nose. He only managed to spread the noxious-purple smoke around rather than disperse it.

Grabbing him by the arm, Gladiolus used the crook of his other limb to cover his mouth as he dragged Prompto to the edge of the Naga's circle of influence. Gladiolus didn't release him until they were safe from being cursed. Past his own hacking fit, Gladiolus managed to ask, "You okay?"

"Hnnng," Prompto said in response, bending at the waist. He sounded ready to hack up a lung or the contents of his stomach. Gladiolus patted him on the back. When Prompto didn't immediately drop dead he sought out their other companions.

"Roll call!" Gladiolus rasped.

Somewhere north of them, Ignis reported in. As the smoke finally cleared, Gladiolus saw him stumbling around, seemingly half-drunk. The lack of a certain prince's response had Gladiolus on alert. Ignoring his sore throat, he yelled, "Noct?"

Everyone sorted themselves out when they picked up on Noctis' absence, too. Shaking his head to re-orientate himself, Ignis turned in every direction; he checked high and low for any sign of their friend. Prompto cupped both hands around his mouth and called, "Croak if you can hear us, buddy!"

There came a reply, although it didn't originate from a human or an amphibian. A soft mewling echoed their frantic shouts. Gladiolus tore through the area as he tracked the origin of the noise, uncertain exactly where it was coming from. The Naga's body had yet to completely dissolve after its demise, so Gladiolus hefted her tail to permit Ignis and Prompto to search underneath.

"Gentle, gentle!" Ignis chided as Prompto coaxed a small, black bundle free of the wreckage. Gladiolus assumed it was a wad of gunk that had secreted from the daemon's remains, but no, when he dropped the Naga's body he saw how it took shape, even after Prompto wiped down the mound with the corner of his vest.

"Oh. Em. Gee!" Prompto swooned, cradling what turned out to be a fluffy and blue-eyed cat. "You've got to be kitten me, Noct! It is you, right?"

The cat yawned, evidence enough of who it was. During Prompto's cooing and awing, Ignis seemed perplexed while Gladiolus became apprehensive. The advisor leaned in, adjusting his glasses by the earpiece as he examined their miniaturized friend. "How curious. I'd noticed the variation in this particular foe, but who would have surmised that its repertoire would also be unique?"

"Right? But I'd rather a cat than a frog any day," Prompto said. Redirecting his attention to Gladiolus, who'd remained distanced from the group, he held Noctis toward the other man’s face. "What do you think, Gladio?"

Gladiolus balked at the sudden closeness. He opened his mouth to say something to the effect that he'd rather have Noctis sans sticky tongues, long tails, or any variations thereof. Except all that came out was a tremendous sneeze. At the onslaught Prompto clamped his eyes shut and stepped back, whereas Noctis had been in the direct line of the assault. Ears pressed flat against his skull, Noctis hissed and swatted a paw. He hit Gladiolus across the tip of his nose.

"Hey now!" Gladiolus said, clutching his face. His voice was muffled, although it became clear that it had nothing to do with the gesture, but how stuffed up his sinuses had become. "It's not my fault I'm allergic to His Royal Furriness!"

"Oh," Prompto said in acknowledgement. Then he did it again in realization. "Oh. Sorry, dude. I should have figured, what with your allergies and all…"

Prompto drew the cat back against his chest. Noctis must have felt constricted at the increased contact since he squirmed and yowled in protest, not so dissimilar to a motorcycle engine. To appease him, Prompto stroked under his chin. It wasn't clear if Noctis enjoyed the treatment; he might have been undecided himself because while he stopped his attempt at escape, Noctis kept making the noise deep in his throat.

Not that it was just Noctis' growls permuting the area. Gladiolus picked up on the disturbance, then Ignis. They inspected their surroundings, although it quickly became unnecessary. The daemons materialized smack dab in the middle of their group. One glowing, floating Bomb appeared, and another, and finally two more burst into existence at once.

Before Gladiolus could decide to summon his sword or his shield, an armful of pissed off fuzz and sharp fangs was shoved at him. He fumbled a moment, gathering Noctis by the scruff of his neck and holding him at arm's length. "Prompto, what— What am I supposed to do with him?"

"Come on, just for a sec? I need both hands free," he said, recalling his firearm and demonstrating his point by clutching the large gun. One hand was on the trigger and the other steadied the weapon. Gladiolus regarded Ignis for assistance, but the advisor was already fighting off some monsters with a dagger in each hand.

Cursing, Gladiolus transferred Noctis to his shoulder with gritted instructions to, “Hang on tight – no, not that tight, watch your claws!”

He settled on his shield, it flashing into place on his left arm. Gladiolus kept the other hand cupped over Noctis to keep him secured as he skirted the fight. It felt off not rushing in and designating himself as a threat, but Gladiolus refused to risk losing Noctis in the scuffle a second time. The potential for singed whiskers would be the least of their worries if that happened.

Fortunately, the others managed to distract the daemons well enough on their own. Once Prompto agitated a Bomb with an entire clip of ammo, Ignis unleashed an ice spell. What monsters he'd been chipping away at were disposed of in the same blizzard he generated to finish off Prompto's target. The last Bomb, sensing its impending demise, charged for the nearest victim to destroy with its deadly explosion.

Gladiolus was wide open. He tensed in anticipation. Instead of bracing to stop the monster, he side-stepped at the last possible moment. The daemon whizzed past him. Swinging around in the direction he'd turned, Gladiolus used his shield like a paddle to pummel the Bomb back the way it'd originated. It impaled itself on Ignis' spear, as he'd switched out his blades for distance, and ended the confrontation.

While Prompto cheered in victory, Gladiolus was busy trying to get Noctis to release his hold on him. The prince had slipped past his collar where Gladiolus couldn't reach him anymore; Noctis clung to the inside of his clothes. The back of Gladiolus' neck already itched something terrible and flushed with irritation.

Finally taking notice of Gladiolus' discomfort, Prompto asked, "Um, you all right there? Do you need some help—"

"Yes," he snapped, scrabbling at his back. "Get him off of me!"

"Okay, okay!" Prompto said, and approached him. He ducked as Gladiolus' flailing almost earned him an elbow to the eye. "Whoa, hold on!"

It took several attempts, but Prompto circled Gladiolus to nab him by the jacket. He shucked it up to reveal Noctis clinging to the underside of his shirt. For his trouble, Prompto earned a slash from Noctis’ claws when he went to retrieve him. He retracted his hand in time to keep from losing his fingers.

"Me-ouch! Noct, what's gotten into you?" Prompto asked.

"Leave him!" Ignis said, looking worriedly behind them. The sounds of more daemons spawning alerted them that another bout was imminent. "We have to find our camp or we'll never be rid of these fiends. Now hurry!"

"You're joking," Gladiolus seethed through his teeth (and maybe his watering eyes).

Ignis’ point became clear as an unnaturally large fist erupted out of the ground, signalling the arrival of an Iron Giant. Prompto tugged Gladiolus' shirt and jacket back down to secure Noctis in place. He pushed Gladiolus in the small of his back to urge him in the last direction they'd seen campfire smoke. "Come on, you heard him! Hup-two, hup-two, double time!"

They ran, Gladiolus resigned enough not to be told twice. The sooner they returned to camp, the sooner he could breathe easier. Literally.

Their group had been close to camp when they left the car at an abandoned parking lot. The desire for fresh red meat at dinner time had delayed them until nightfall. Their hunting had quickly turned them into the hunted as a Naga took advantage of them being outside the wards of their campsite.

Gladiolus covered that remaining distance in minutes.

He was the first one to see their refuge atop a small hill nestled by pine trees. As soon as he breached the glowing sigils, Gladiolus stripped. He ripped his jacket off completely and let it drop to his feet. His shirt came off next. Noctis still clung to the fabric, so Gladiolus wrapped him up in it like a burrito. The little shit had the audacity to purr at him for the gesture.

The other two of their group had lagged behind him during his mad dash to safety, but they caught up to him now. Prompto stumbled the last couple of steps, but whatever complaint he was going to voice morphed into laughter. Pointing, he said, "Oh man, look at your back!"

"What?" Gladiolus twisted around, trying to get a good look, but could only spot the etchings of his tattoo. "What is it? Better not be hives."

"No way, more like Noct used you as a scratching post. I can't believe this! The King's Shield, felled by a ten pound menace." Prompto gave him a hearty slap on the back, igniting the skin as he touched some of the aforementioned scratches. Gladiolus grunted, more out of annoyance than pain, as he barely registered the scrapes even after Prompto brought attention to the marks.

Ignis chuckled. "Noct certainly put you in your place, hm?"

"Yeah, yeah. Yuck it up you two." Sobering somewhat, Gladiolus offered Noctis to Ignis as he asked, "How long do you, uh, think he is going to be like this?"

"He should have reverted back by now," Ignis said, accepting the bundle. He examined Noctis, but no answers were forthcoming. "If Noct remains this way until morning, perhaps we should reach out to Dave. He or one of his hunters may have experienced something of this nature and can offer us insight."

"Right," Prompto agreed for all of them, then tiredly, "Bedtime? Not much else we can do."

Considering they'd been forced to abandon their food for the evening and their stores were depleted, dinner remained out of the question. There was a collective sigh as everyone came to the same conclusion. Sleeping was about all they could do.

"I'll keep watch tonight. No use for me being cooped up with the fur ball," Gladiolus volunteered, somewhat reluctantly. He didn’t mind the outdoors, but if given the choice he’d rather be within reach if Noctis needed him. In this form Noctis was next to defenseless. The prince wouldn’t be alone, however, so Gladiolus would have to settle for one evening.

He took a seat at the campfire while the others bid him goodnight and entered the tent. Hopefully the fresh air and some distance would alleviate his allergy symptoms. Gladiolus tilted his head back and massaged his temples, trying to ease the pressure.

It might have worked, too, if a couple hours later there wasn't something circling his legs. Gladiolus startled out of his doze and looked down to behold Noctis brushing against his ankles. Glancing in the direction of the tent, there didn't appear to be any activity coming from inside. Noctis must have snuck out from under Prompto's and Ignis' care without their noticing.

"Just gotta be contrary, don't you?" Gladiolus rumbled, still a little sleep addled. It'd figure that the one time Noctis was allowed a catnap, he wouldn't, just so he could annoy the one person most susceptible to him. He waggled his foot when Noctis sniffed and pawed at his bootlaces. The playing was a precursor to Noctis latching onto his leg and climbing into his lap like he owned the spot.

Despite his condition, Gladiolus gave Noctis a couple scritches along his back because damned if he wasn't a little cute like this. For Gladiolus' sacrifice, he earned a gentle headbutt to his chin. Noctis then used Gladiolus’ chest and shoulder like a springboard to continue upwards. Noctis attached himself to a tree at Gladiolus' back, clambering up to a branch that overhung their campsite.

"Don't think I'm coming up to get you if you get stuck," Gladiolus warned. He didn't know why he felt compelled to talk to Noctis in this form, but around his sniffling he did, anyway. It was unclear if the prince understood speech or that he was actually a person under all that black fur. The one time Gladiolus had been transformed by a Naga he didn't remember his time as a frog, but considering the alteration in forms maybe this was different, too.

Noctis peered down at him and gave a long, blank stare that ended in a slow blink. It struck Gladiolus as the same attention Noctis would have bestowed upon him regardless of being a feline or not. He wasn’t a talkative cat, either – same as his old human self. Maybe the prince did understand him like this.

"Heh. Suit yourself," Gladiolus said, managing to relax with Noctis in his sights, and let him be until the following day.

At the first signs of daylight, a surprised cry arose from inside the tent. There was a lot of shuffling, the material on the sides protruding as someone moved around. Ignis burst out the front, looking frenzied and unkempt as he looked around. Spotting Gladiolus standing nearby, holding a steaming cup of coffee, Ignis zeroed in on him.

"Gladio! I can't find Noct. Did you see him come this way?"

Wordlessly, Gladiolus motioned with his mug toward the spot Noctis had climbed earlier. Following his silent instruction, Ignis glanced up and found Noctis splayed across the tree branch. His face was squished into the bark and each limb splayed on either side, leaving the length of his body parallel to the wood.

Noctis was also distinctly human while lazing up there.

"How did he…how is he…? Hm." Ignis settled on covering the bottom portion of his face with a hand, pondering the sight.

"He changed back halfway through the night," Gladiolus explained, taking a sip from his coffee.

Somewhat delayed, Prompto exited the tent, having been woken up by Ignis' antics. His hair was in disarray and so were his clothes, but he stopped trying to correct his appearance as he spotted Gladiolus and Ignis staring at something. Flitting his gaze upwards, he watched Noctis for a drawn out beat. Prompto didn't even say anything as he tucked his hand into his pocket and gradually started to pull out his camera.

Ignis pushed the device away and said, "Don't you dare! We should be figuring out how to get him down from there, not taking pictures."

"Aw, come on…" Prompto whined, acting pained at being denied 'the shot of a lifetime'. Or so he claimed.

"Pft. I got this," Gladiolus said, handing Ignis his coffee to hold. Bewildered, Ignis couldn't do more than accept the drink and watch as Gladiolus did a couple stretches. He brought his right arm across his chest, holding it in place, and did the same to the opposite arm.

Then Gladiolus high-kicked the tree.

Hard.

Noctis listed to one side before tumbling off the tree branch and into Gladiolus' waiting arms. That wasn't enough to wake the prince, so Gladiolus gave him a light squeeze. Grumbling, Noctis peeked open an eye. The other opened up as both eyes went wide as he realized where, exactly, he was. "Huh…?"

"Good meow-ning, Noct," Prompto greeted.

"How are you faring?" Ignis asked straight-faced, for all appearances sincere until he added, "Perhaps you’re feeling a bit catty? Any lingering hissy fits?"