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Even after so many years of living in the Citadel, adhering to strict rules of the palace’s inner workings, Gladio never found it easy to get up in the mornings.
Sure, he could do it, but it was just a force of discipline rather than anything else. He couldn’t fully wake, not without coffee and at least twenty minutes of staring at nothing to shake off the remains of sleep stubbornly clinging to him at ass-crack of dawn.
That was why the sound didn’t register with him at first.
Waking up, he could slowly catalogue the sensations that came to him in stages. The faint scent of plastic and rubber - they were in a tent, camped out at Haven. Pots and pans shuffling over something, possibly a grill - Iggy was already up, maybe had been for at least an hour, getting breakfast ready. Soft, nasal snoring to his right - Prompto was still conked out after staying up late, buzzed out on sugary snacks. A small, pained noise to his left and a hand clutching at his arm—
He was instantly alert.
“Gladio.” Noctis’ voice, shaky but hushed, probably to avoid waking up Prompto. “Come on, Gladio.”
“I’m up,” he mumbled as he sat up and twisted to look at his prince.
Noctis looked like shit.
He was pale and clammy, his black t-shirt clinging to him with cold sweat. He was lying half on his side and half on his stomach and his face was twisted in a pained grimace. Gladio took the hand that was still grabbing at his arm and he could feel the faint tremors running through Noct’s body.
“It’s my back,” Noctis whispered, already confirming Gladio’s suspicions. “I woke up like this and I can’t… I can’t move.”
“You did take a nasty fall yesterday,” Gladio said, already shifting to his knees to loom over Noctis. The hunt they were on didn’t go bad, exactly, but they all had their share of scrapes and bruises. Noctis fell out of air mid-warp when stasis hit him and he landed wrong, crashing to his side as the result. “But it’s been a while since you had a flare-up like this.”
That was an understatement. Noctis’ mobility had improved over the years since Marilith’s attack and he was kept out of the wheelchair by a regimen of physical therapy and training exercises. But the way things were going now, with them on a run from Niflheim, fighting every day, getting injured, sleeping rough on the ground? That couldn’t be good for Noctis’ back.
Still holding Noctis’ hand, letting him know he wasn’t going anywhere, Gladio smacked lightly at Prompto’s hip, making him jump and wake up with a little startled noise.
“What—”
“Prom, go get Iggy, would you?” Gladio said, waving vaguely towards the tent flap with his free hand. Prompto blinked a couple of times, shaking off sleep, his gaze turning towards Noctis. His eyes widened for a moment and he opened his mouth to say something, but one look from Gladio was enough to shut him up.
“He doesn’t know what’s going on,” Noctis quietly said when they were alone. “Prom had never seen me like this, don’t freak him out even more.”
“He can take it,” Gladio huffed. “Worry about yourself first, okay?”
He could hear steps approaching the tent and sure enough, after only a moment the tent flap was opened and both Ignis and Prompto went inside.
“It’s his back,” Gladio said before Ignis could ask what was wrong. “Maybe because of yesterday’s hunt but honestly, it was probably a long time coming.”
“I suppose we should have expected it,” Ignis sighed, kneeling next to Noctis while Prompto hovered in the background, still unsure of what was going on. “Noctis, what’s your pain level right now?”
Noctis only made a vague, indescribable sound.
“Come on Noct, use your words,” Gladio said as he gave Noctis’ hand a squeeze.
“Six,” Noctis huffed. He tried to move and winced. “Maybe seven.”
“I’ll get you a heat pack,” Ignis clasped his hand briefly on Noctis’ shoulder in reassurance. “Then we’ll see how you do with stretches. After that you can have your medication. I don’t feel comfortable giving them to you on an empty stomach.”
“Can’t eat now,” Noctis groaned. “I’ll probably just end up puking.”
“I know,” Ignis gave him a small, tight smile. “Heat pack first, then exercise. I’ll be right back.”
“Come on,” Gladio said when Ignis left to dig out their med kit from the Regalia, “I’ll help you move.”
“In a moment,” Noctis said, tilting his head a little to look at Prompto. The other boy was pale and looked both frightened and confused, clearly understanding that something was seriously wrong. “Prom, come here.”
“Dude, are you alright?” Prompto asked as he knelt next to him. Noctis let go of Gladio’s hand to pat his friend on the knee.
“No, not really,” he sighed. “I got hurt when I was younger, it messed up my back pretty bad. I got better but even now it can flare up like this. Iggy and Gladio know what to do. I’m not alright now, but I will be.”
“Can I—” Prompto hesitated. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You’re here. That’s already helping.”
Gladio would never stop being amazed by this side of Noctis. People who didn’t know their prince very well quickly formed their own opinions on him and while some of them could be true, Gladio knew there was so, so much more to Noctis. It shone in moments like these, where he put away his own pain to comfort a friend. Noctis was not ready to be a king, not yet at least, but Gladio knew he would be, eventually. One day Noctis would be an amazing king.
Gladio just had to make sure he made it there. Walking with his own strength, if possible.
Noctis licked his lips, a nervous tell he couldn’t really train himself off. It was a small thing, unnoticeable almost, but Gladio could always see right through him.
“But listen, this is going to get ugly. I’m going to be in pain. I’m probably going to cry and it’s going to be really, really pathetic.” Noctis let out a small, bitter laugh. “I might even end up puking, happened to me before. So if it gets too much, if you don’t want to just sit there and listen to me curse five generations of Gladio’s ancestors for putting me through this pain, I understand. Feel free to bolt, if you need to.”
“Nah,” Prompto laughed a little and patted down Noctis’ hand, still resting on his knee. “Not going anywhere, man. Ever at your side, remember?”
What happened next was never easy, no matter how many times Gladio had done it. After shifting Noctis to his stomach and warming his lower back with a heat pack Ignis brought, they helped him turn on his back again. Gladio went through the routine stretches with him, never pushing too far beyond what Noctis could handle, but not letting him go easy on it either. Noctis was quiet through most of it, despite the pain he was surely in, and that concerned Gladio more than anything. Noctis was always extremely vocal about small inconveniences or hurts, like a brat he was, but when it came to serious injuries? He always clammed up, not letting anyone know what was really going on with him. Hiding in plain sight, for however long he could.
Near the end of the set Noctis was pale and sweaty, hair plastered to his forehead. He was shaking and breathing hard, tears tracking down his face and disappearing into his hair. He had not complained, not even once, not until Gladio had his hands underneath his right knee, pushing it up and left in a side twist.
“Stop, please.” The choked cry pushed past Noctis’ lips as one of his hands grabbed at Gladio’s wrist. “Fuck, Gladio… I can’t—”
“I know it hurts,” Gladio said, trying to keep his voice soft and even, like Noctis’ physical therapists had taught him. “But you also know we have to finish the set. Only a couple more.”
“You can do it, Noct,” Prompto whispered from where he was sitting not far from them, silently watching and giving encouragement whenever he saw Noctis’ face twist with pain. Noctis’ only response was a bit-back sob. “Almost done now.”
A couple minutes later Noctis was done, laying on his back with his arm thrown over his face, hiding his tears. Everyone saw him crying by now, but still, he needed this small illusion of privacy. Gladio hated seeing him in pain - hated being the cause of it even more - but the stretches at helped the previously locked up muscles relax enough for Noctis to move.
“Here,” Ignis gently cradled the back of Noctis’ head and helped him up a little, so that he could take his painkillers. Noctis’ hand shook as he drank from his water bottle. “Do you think you can eat something? I can whip up a quick rice porridge. It should be easy enough on your stomach.”
“Sure,” Noctis said as he laid back down. He didn’t sound enthusiastic, but they were all aware he had to try to eat something. If not to keep his energy up, then to stop the medication from messing up his stomach.
“We can’t sleep on the ground tonight,” Gladio said to Ignis before the other man left for his cooking station. “Caravans aren’t ideal either. Can we get a hotel room for a couple of nights? Lestallum is close.”
“It will be tight on the budget.” Ignis frowned. “But if we take a couple of hunts later on, we should be able to do it.”
“No,” Noctis protested, his voice still a little breathless from crying earlier, “we can’t afford it right now.”
“Noct, you need a proper bed,” Prompto said with a frown. “I mean, I might not know everything that’s going on with you, but if your back is fucked, then sleeping in tents can’t be good for you.”
“Cape Caem, then,” Noctis quickly answered. “We won’t have to spend money, at least.”
“It’s a long drive,” Ignis said, voice still doubtful. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”
“Not yet, but I will be.” Noctis gave him a long look. “It will be fine. Once the meds kick in.”
Thirty minutes later, after they made sure Noctis wasn’t going to throw up his porridge, the painkillers lulled the prince back to sleep.
“Dude,” Prompto said, a little awed with a sudden realization, “is that why he sleeps all the time?”
“The medication does make him a little drowsier than normal,” Ignis admitted while he cleaned up his cooking set.
“But not that much,” Gladio huffed with amusement, finishing his first coffee of the day. “He’s just naturally lazy. It’s a skill, really.”