31. ‘Don’t worry about me.’
Written for: day 7 of @gladnoctweek !
Noctis walks into his Citadel chambers that evening to dimmed lights and a pained groan that could only belong to Gladio. There’s something disconcerting about the atmosphere that reigns in their shared quarters, like something isn’t quite right, enough to rush him out of his regal attire, leaving the lot in a messy pile on the floor, and towards the bedroom.
That’s where he finds Gladio, laying on his back in the middle of their large bed, hands folded on top of his chest, fully clothed. The covers are intact underneath him, as if he had just flopped there and not moved since.
Gladio attempts to turn his head towards the source of the sound, but it’s slow and tedious, as if all of his efforts are going towards controlling that movement, and Noctis can immediately tell something is off.
‘Hey. I’m… um, not really ok.’
‘Um… I fucked my back training some new recruits. Tried to sleep it off and now I can barely move.’
Noctis chuckles quietly as he loosens his tie and rolls up the sleeves of his black dress shirt, making his way to the side of the bed so Gladio can talk to him without straining his neck too much.
‘Nah, the opposite. Nothing harder to predict than morons who don’t know what the fuck they’re doing.’
‘I know, we’ve been sparring for years now,’ Noctis lets out with a cheeky grin that Gladio rolls his eyes at before wincing again.
‘Don’t start when you know I can’t get up to kick your ass,’ he says in a low voice, a quivering grin on his lips that quickly falters as he closes his eyes and starts breathing slowly through his nose. Noctis would normally continue teasing him, but he gets the distinct feeling there’s something more to this than a nasty back ache, so he reins it in for now.
‘Sorry, sorry. Um… Can I do anything to help?’
‘I… I need you to give me a massage,’ he grumbles, obviously bothered that he has to ask this of him at all.
‘I feel like I’m being set up for some shitty handjob joke,’ Noctis chuckles, but he comes closer and sits at Gladio’s side regardless, careful not to dip the bed too much, careful not to make the pain worse than it has to be.
‘Trust me, I’m pretty sure just joking about that is gonna make it worse,’ Gladio says as he tries to roll onto his side, which only makes the pain sharper, causing him to flop back where he started, grimacing as a breathy ‘Fuck,’ escapes his lips.
‘Don’t move, alright? Just tell me what to do.’