Bullet Hell

[threevirtues]

He does his best, over the following months, to keep himself from thinking too hard about what he talked about with Gladio. It's hard sometimes, when Ignis is especially sweet or exceptionally beautiful. There's one evening when he falls asleep beside Talcott, peaceful and relaxed under the warm light of the lantern in their tent while Tal is reading. The touch is gentle and light, careful not to wake him when Tal slides his fingers over silken hair.

Another time it's when they've finally gotten back to Lestallum for a weekend and Ignis' hair is damp and clean from the shower and he spends most of the evening in that awful heat without a shirt while Talcott is scrambling to get their clothes washed, dried, the truck restocked and a shipment loaded before they're back on the road in 18 hours. For all that he needed to rush it was impossible not to just stop and stare at him sometimes, enamored with just how gorgeous he is.

Talcott was always a touchy person and it's only become worse as he's grown older and touch is such a vital part of how Ignis interacts with the world. A guiding hand, an arm near enough that their elbows brush so Ignis can keep track of him, a head on his shoulder instead to convey a smile. Oh but it's agony when he's not also berating himself for his feelings and how much he'd been certain it'd hurt Gladio.

It's information on Angelgard, specifically, that they're looking for and, of course, the requires getting far too close to Galdin Quay. The Nifs that remained in control of the city, as much as anyone was in control of anything these days, cared only about their desperately defended pockets of light and keeping surveillance on the only port near enough to the city to be a potential danger. They also know just as well as the remaining military does that it will be from Angelgard that the King returns.

It needs to be quick, slipping in to get some of the relics and travel records from the ruins of the Quay and then back to the truck and on the road out before anyone's realized they're there. Tal can't help blaming himself when things go to shit. If he hadn't gotten distracted, if he hadn't seen those familiar clothes laid out on the dock and felt his heart break all over again for the man who'd been his only friend that he hadn't inherited from his family, if he'd been listening more closely-

It doesn't matter who bears the fault in the moment though. In the moment all that matters is the roar of the dropship and the whine of machinery. Bullets rain down around them before they've made it entirely off the boardwalk and for a moment the best he can do is get Ignis down and somewhere out of the line of fire. There's nowhere to hide on the boardwalk, of course but by some miracle they make it to the old bait shop. Tal has to kick the door open and barely manages to slam it behind him before another round of gunfire starts up.

There's a pause then, barely a moment to catch their breaths, blood drips steadily along his cheek and he knows he has to wait for the gunfire to pause, for clips to run out and need replacing before he'll need to leave Ignis long enough for him to bolt for the truck. It's heavy, too heavy for the sand. He won't be able to get as close as he'd like. His heart is in his throat and it will truly be a miracle if they both get out of this.

And in that frantic moment, when time slows to a crawl before he rushes right back out to pray that in the darkness he can run faster than the Nif soldiers can aim, their lives hanging in that delicate balance, he moves without taking the time to think, bends down to crash his lips against the other man's for one fleeting, desperate moment. It's only for a span of heartbeats, his eyes screwed shut and adrenaline racing through him, then he tips his head enough to lean his forehead against Ignis'. "Stay down." Firm, commanding in a way that Talcott has rarely ever had to be.

The next moment he's vaulting the front counter and booking it for his truck, trying to remember everything Prompto's ever told him about how to maximize his speed. It would be impossible for them to make it out completely unscathed, surviving at all will be miraculous, but whatever injuries he sustains are, if nothing else, not enough to drop him, not enough to stop him getting to the truck and that's the safest place he could be. It's a reinforced repurposed military vehicle, after all. Some bullets fired at her side aren't going to do anything to slow her down.

All the better because Tal's ramming her into reverse, the massive tires rolling over the stairs, splintering the decking into nothing until he can feel the back of the truck hit the shack. Another moment to steel himself and then he's scrambling out the back window into the cover of the tent, something he can at least use to stay hidden long enough to call to Ignis, tell him he can drop over the counter directly into the truck bed. A swift countdown and it's another scrambling miracle to get back into the cab but the Nifs do not pursue them as the truck roars back to life, spraying wood debris as they make for the long winding road up away from the coast.

Probably they don't have enough ammunition to give chase and it's rare enough for them to leave the city at all. Galdin is the only thing outside that holds their attention at all and ensuring no one is snooping around seems to be enough. A deterrent, not a chase. Which.... is a good thing. The truck was built for durability, not speed. It's only when the drone of the dropship can no longer be heard that Talcott dares take his eyes off the road, glancing over at Ignis. "Are you okay? Did you get hit?"

It's funny. So much time spent on tactics, on thinking through things carefully... and yet, in the end, sometimes all that can be done is the simplest. The most basic thing at the heart of any living creature.

You have to run.

Ignis can't spare any thought for much else, save the movement of his feet, Talcott's grip on him as they run together, his mind racing to recall every little step he takes in alignment with what he recalls of the Quay so that he doesn't make a wrong step when they cannot afford such. The creek of wood beneath their feet, the way a door bounces violently off a wall from Talcott's kick, dust and sea salt filling his throat. It all gets processed, discarded in some ways, and then they hit the floor. There's blood. He can feel it dripping down his face, smell it.

Is that what stops his brain for just a split second? That keeps him from saying anything, coming up with some sort of plan, before there's a sudden warmth against his face, his lips, a breath shared between them, and -

"Talcott!" But he stays put. Doesn't follow that scramble over the counter. Just tries to muffle the sound of his own frantic heart so that he can hear footsteps in the sand, tries to listen to them hit concrete (please hit concrete), the gunfire that starts up after. At his side, there's a serious ache, but Ignis doesn't bother to think about it. Almost certainly he had to have caught a shot or two - Nif mechs are terrible shots the further away they are, in his opinion, but they can still get lucky like anything else with enough firepower. But there was chobham armor in the Armiger, and he'll be fine, and maybe he doesn't care.

Not when he's desperately straining his ears for his partner.

The relief at hearing the engine start up in the distance is enough to almost make him sick. Not sick enough to realize he needs to back up as far away from the front of the bait shack as possible, find a corner to squeeze into as there's the frantic cracking of wood underneath heavy tires. The entire little building shakes - probably threatens to fall apart with how neglected it's been all this time - but Ignis ignores it, ignores the rattle in his teeth. Just scrambles up at the sound of Talcott yelling for him, and he's yelling right back almost before he's even in the bed of the truck. It doesn't matter if he's in the cab yet, they have to go, they have to go!

Only when they've gotten up from the winding road, when they're going into the Pass, does he finally hit the cab with a rattled wheeze. The adrenaline still courses frantically throughout his system, dulls whatever aches are there. There's no drone of the gunship, of course they won't chase after them, so he's fine with smacking at the passenger door. "Vennaugh, pull over to Vennaugh," he says, one shaking hand going to his face. It hardly needs more damage to it, but...

But there's no wound aching there, is there?

This isn't his blood.

His breathing is strained, his heart still racing, and he jumps when Ignis hits the door. The movement wrenches a grunt out of him, reminds him quite neatly that the bulletproof vest he wears might stop the bullets from killing him but the bruising left behind will be enough to turn him a whole rainbow of colors. Tal hisses out a curse under his breath, a quiet "Shit!" that is so uncommon for him. He's not a child anymore but he still doesn't like resorting to vulgar language.

It's hard not to, of course, when there's blood flowing in a steady stream down the right side of his face. When everything aches and he's gradually becoming aware of the throbbing pain in one leg and, more worrisome, the fact that he can feel blood starting to soak into his sock and down into his boot. "Vennaugh." He repeats, voice as firm and steady as he can manage. He keeps his eyes on the road, his foot on the accelerator, but he reaches out with one hand to grab blindly for Ignis' shoulder. His arm. Anything.

"Are you hurt?" Asked through gritted teeth with an almost painfully tight grip on the other man. He needs to pay attention to the road, he can't stop out here to look Ignis over, so he needs Ignis to do for him the same thing he does for Ignis every day and tell him what he can't see just now.

That grip is more than any ache in his side, his back, and Ignis returns it, hand going up to wrap like a vice around that wrist he knows so well. "I'm fine," he says, even if speaking makes him feel as though he's going to hack up a lung. From all the running, or from being shot in the back? He doesn't know yet. It doesn't matter.

"But Talcott, you are not."

Ignis grips him back and some small sliver of the tension finally releases, relief of a sort. Ignis would tell him if any of his injuries (which Talcott knows he must have) were truly serious, something that could not wait for the relative safety of a haven.

"I'm not dying." Is the best he can offer, knowing it's not enough but it's going to have to be for a few more minutes. And it is only a few with the way he's driving. He has to pull his hand back from Ignis, needing both on the wheel to control so large a vehicle on the shift from the road to a rocky path, something not made for vehicles but one he takes anyway. not stopping until the truck is parked in the circle of the haven. Once she is he kills the engine, reaches up to flick a few overhead switches and the lighting of the over head racks come up.

Only then does he slump over the steering wheel, forehead pressed against his hands while he tries to breathe, to slow down his heartrate and stop shaking. Even that is only a moment, though, before he's shoving himself along the bench seat, reaching out for Ignis, his thumb smearing over the blood on the other man's cheek with the same concern Ignis had first had. "Ignis. I'm sorry. Come here, let me see."

They meet each other in the middle, there, hands clumsy and colliding against one another in desperate worry, adrenaline that still hasn't abated. Ignis isn't sure when his ever will as his fingers frantically skim across Talcott's arms, his shoulders, not daring to press down too hard as he searches out even a hint of wetness.

"I'm fine, I am fine," he hisses, even if some parts of his jacket have holes in them, if he's not putting too much weight on one leg. "Where is it? Where are you bleeding?" His voice pulls tight in his throat, a sliver of string to keep anything under control.

The past years since losing Noctis have meant it was always in that state, truth be told, but he's normally better hiding it.

Just not now.

"It's okay-" Talcott's voice lowers, something low and soothing as his hands come up to capture Ignis'. He tries to take them both, press them to his chest so Ignis can feel the rhythm of his heart, too fast still but in no danger of stuttering.

"It was probably just a ricochet. My cheek- It'll only need a couple stitches." He glances guiltily down at his leg where his pants are now clinging to him, soaked with blood. "The vest is bulletproof, remember?"

It kills him to see Ignis so distressed, so frantic. He wants to pull the other man into an embrace but until he can look Ignis over he doesn't dare. He doesn't want to hurt him.

There's a tug, at first, just initially. Too much energy, too much concern, he can't stand being forced to stay still like this when his eyes won't tell him what he needs to know. But he forces it all down again like so many times before. Listens to the explanation he's given.

"And that's it?" he asks, words forced slow. "There is nothing else that's injured?" He tries to pull a hand away, just to let it roam once more. There was so much gunfire, he can't let himself slack on this. Not for Talcott.

He surrenders after a moment, releasing one of Ignis' hands so long as he can keep the other held close over his heart. Ignis knows precisely how to catch him out though, to ask a question that he cannot answer without telling him what he wants to know or lying to him and that is something Talcott would never do. He bows his head for a moment, breath strained with the pressure that puts on his chest and wincing when the movement pulls at his cheek, blood dripping onto Ignis' sleeve.

"My leg-" Tal grunts softly as he tries to pull it closer squinting in the darkness at wet fabric to try to see the wound beneath. "Gonna need to get in the back to see, though."

He's reluctant to let go of Ignis but after one more squeeze to his fingers he does release him. His own hands dropping to his belt, unfastening it so he can slide it free to cinch around his thigh instead, just above the pain that thrums louder with each passing moment as the adrenaline begins to fade.

Just from that simple inhale, a should-be simple action which struggle to rise in and out, Ignis knows he's onto something. Even without his palm right there at Talcott's chest to feel his lungs as much as his heart, he can tell.

"Then let's not waste any time," he says, voice somehow pulled back to that calmness he's often been known for. No nonsense. "Tourniquet? Good. Hold on, I'll get out first and lend you an arm, just in case." Of course, that means, right as he goes to open his side, a sharp ache burns through one leg and he grimaces. Bites his tongue. He doesn't think that it's a bullet, his pants feel mostly intact there, but... He'll deal with it later.

What's more important is carefully getting himself down out of the cab so he can make his way around, find Talcott and tend to him. There's no hospitals out here, no one but themselves to look after one another. If something were to happen...

He won't let anything happen.

Sorry Ignis, Tal sees that look and is immediately tugging him back into the cab. "I can go through the window just fine." There's a reason his tent is flush to the back of the cab, easier to get from the driver's seat to a bed without leaving the light if they never leave the truck. It will definitely be a struggle with the shape his leg's in but more importantly.

"What about you? What was that reaction to?" For all that Ignis has been fussing over him Talcott's not about to let him get away without the same treatment. One hand goes up to make the older man sit back to Talcott can look over his leg, inspecting him for any damage.

Blast. Caught out. He shouldn't be surprised. He knows that Talcott is incredibly perceptive, both no doubt from his education and possibly just as a result of his personality. "It's nothing," he says, although he can't quite find it within him to deny the other when he's pulled back and pressed into his seat. "Merely a bit bruised and aching from all of it."

...

"Perhaps a sprain of sorts," he admits, leg carefully held off of the floor just a bit. He's hoping it's just a sprain, at any rate. Worse would be a problem.

The insistence that it's nothing only makes Talcott more determined to look Ignis over, examining him carefully for any signs of blood or torn clothes. It's only the fact that he sees no such thing that eases his worries enough to let Ignis go. "Then we're both going to get in the back and do what we can. And we're going to call Gladio. We're close enough to the city that if not him, someone from the Guard should be able to come out and help."

His hand drops to his pocket for a moment, firing a text off to Gladio...

[ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ]

TH: trouble. at vennaugh. might have a bullet in my leg.
I kissed him.

GA: busy day. omw
iggy must be ok or youdve said

TH: thought so. not sure now. maybe a sprain. all the bloods mine

GA: how bad? u not him

TH: im cold

GA: brb driving unsafely

[ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ]

...before he's turning enough that he can push open the window behind the seat of the cab. It takes a little bit of wriggling at first and then he has a solid enough handhold on the roll bar of the lighting rack overhead that he can lift himself through the window. Dragging his legs through is a more difficult process and trying to keep the injured one elevated enough to not be dragging it through.

Once he is through though he's leaning back in, one hand outstretched to guide Ignis to the window as well. "If nothing else we can stretch out back here and really assess the damage."

Small blessings. If he can just somehow get whatever happened to him in their mad dash to safety done in private so that, if it is worse, then he doesn't have Talcott worry about it...

Later. Ignis waits patiently, listening to the little click of keys, the scrape of the window. Talcott having to grunt as he hauls himself in, no doubt taking care of his leg. Even the light creaks of him settling back there before his voice rises up again, near to the window. "Especially yours," he warns, the smell of copper still thick in his lungs as his hand searches out Talcott's. It is not the most graceful way, getting to the back like this, but that is really the last thing on his mind.

All he does is keep the one leg carefully stretched out to the side so that he doesn't antagonize it any further, and carefully search out where they keep the first aid here. "How does your leg look?" he asks over his shoulder.

Ignis goes for the first aid kit, something that is also strapped down but he'd taken the time to hammer out a shallow ridge around the outline of a cross in the lid of the metal container to ensure it would be something Ignis can find quickly if need be, and Talcott uses the moment to scoot closer to Ignis. "Hold still." Ignis leaning over for the kit just means it's that much easier for Tal to catch that outstretched leg. His fingers slide up under the hem of the pant leg, cradling his ankle and squeezing gently, feeling for heat or the shifting of bones.

It's hard to focus, the throbbing in his own leg getting louder and louder, and he's starting to think his hands are getting cold. He surely hasn't lost that much blood yet, though. There's time enough for this, at least, both hands working up his leg to figure out where the pain is radiating from and what might have caused it. It doesn't take too long, though, to establish that it is strained muscle and tendon but not something more serious. At least not that they'd be able to tell without an x-ray.

"You should stay down still. Blizzard magic if you can. keep the swelling down."

He should have known that Talcott would take advantage of the situation - in fact, he did know, but it can't be helped. Either he gets to retain whatever it is inside him that wants to hide the injury, or he gets to make sure Talcott is safe.

Talcott will take priority every time.

So even as he hears Talcott adjust, the sound of his body shifting in place, Ignis doesn't stop him or even pull his leg away. There's just a hiss at those groping hands, leg jerking underneath. Indeed, nothing broken obviously, but that just means... Well, Ignis should probably rest for a while. Ignis should always rest for a while. If it's that or perhaps all the wood that was flying around, being inside a shack while Talcott rammed into it... Who can say?

What Ignis says is, "Enough about me. We need to take care of your wound." He knows this kit by heart, knows where to pull out the butterfly bandages, a rare bit of water to help clean the blood away. The face wound is the least severe thing, of course, but those are the type to bleed a whole lot, and they can't be so neatly stopped with a tourniquet. But while he's taking out a cloth... "Bullet wound, in the leg? Or was it something else?"

Ignis didn't hear anyone land in the sand, hear signs of battle outside gunfire, but... You never know.

It is only after he's sure Ignis is safe that he finally relents, ratcheting his belt a notch tighter, gritting his teeth against the pain and half collapsing back onto the cot. Only for a moment though before he is dragging himself off of it to sprawl unceremoniously on the floor of the truck bed, his wounded leg propped up on the edge of the cot so gravity and the tourniquet are both working against the blood loss. His fingers fumble with his phone for a moment before he lets that drop onto the metal next to him.

"Yeah. S-scissors, Iggy. You're gonna need to cut my pant leg open." He's starting to get dizzy though and damn it all if his face won't stop bleeding. "Gladio's coming-" He blinks hard a few times, tries to force himself to focus, starts counting his breaths quietly. Making a point to do it aloud, not letting himself fall silent for Ignis' sake and for his own. He knows all too well how likely it is he won't wake up at all if he lets himself pass out.

If he was with anyone other than a member of the King's retinue he's pretty sure he'd be a dead man. But, so long as they can get the damned bullet out so his body can heal there will be potions, even hi-potions, at hand. Loathe though he is to have them wasting so precious a resource on him.

Oh, how badly he wants to swear. How badly he wants to curse. But he swallows it all back like bile, swipes clean Talcott's face. "Good. Then you just need to stay awake, alright? Keep counting." Counting for Ignis, to know he's still awake. Counting so that Talcott has something to do instead of letting his mind drift.

The application of the butterfly bandage is probably not his best. They don't have the benefit of him taking his sweet time with it, really, but as long as it sticks, as long as it does its job, that's all he can ask of it. They can't spare even a drop of blood here, so anything to slow it down is good. But that means the larger job is also at hand and, for all that he takes the scissors up swiftly, Ignis has to admit his doubts.

He's always been independent. He's always wanted to do all the things he could do before, as best he can. And yet for something like this...

He may very well be out of his depth.

Still, he carefully guides his fingers along the clothe, still he slides the scissors through the pants leg to peel it away. "Stay awake, Talcott," he says, being sure to not press down too hard where he doesn't need to. "How deep does it look?"

There's a moment, while Ignis is wiping away the blood on his face, that he brings his hand up to lightly touch the other's wrist, something soft and affectionate, appreciative of the care and how hard this must be for him. His hand might be shaking slightly but it's fine. Ignis is okay so he'll be fine, one way or another.

Ignis is sure to feel, as he splits Talcott's pant leg open, that there's more damage than just the primary source of blood higher up. Places where there are tiny burns and tears in the wet fabric. Nothing large enough to have been truly dangerous but the ricochet of fractured bullets off the ground at his heels had definitely torn him up quite well. The source of the blood, however, is higher, just above his knee, trailing down the outside of his leg for the most part but it has slowed considerably now.

When he asks that question Talcott lifts his head and the world spins around him. His count falters and he's quiet for a moment while he tries to make his eyes focus. "Oh- um... probably not very?" He finally murmurs, dragging himself up onto one elbow and hissing out a breath as he does so. His free hand comes up to take Ignis' covering his hand to guide his finger around the curve of his thigh, trying to demonstrate what the likely trajectory was and then stopping just shy of the hole torn into his leg.

The amount of effort that takes is truly unfair and he slumps back down as soon as that's been done. "'s no exit." His words are starting to slur a little and though he tries to pick up the counting again the murmur of sound is quiet and disjointed, no longer the carefully measured count he'd been trying to maintain.

While Talcott tries to move, does his best to focus, Ignis is already feeling out the forceps, tweezers, what he needs to get the bullet out. This is going to be a nightmare. He's going to have to deal with it. He is going to have to move both incredibly fast and so very carefully.

But he has to do it. Talcott's words slur, and he knows he has to do it.

"There we go, that's all I need to know," he tells him, forcing his voice calm. Always forcing it. He has to be the source of calm here, or else it might be even worse. So with the tweezers carefully held in his fingers by the joints, he adjusts so that he can light his fingers gently at that hole into Talcott's leg. Right. This is not going to feel good by any means. "Bite down on your scarf, Talcott," he warns him, with just enough time to obey that, before he lowers the forceps down, and into flesh.

He tries his damnedest to maintain the count, listening to Ignis shuffling around with things, vaguely he thinks he might hear a crashing sound in the distance- Or... maybe that's the blood (what's left of it) rushing in his ears. That command is followed, thoughtless and obedient in that moment, taking a mouthful of the fabric into his teeth.

And then he's aware of nothing but the pain- It doesn't matter how much he might want to be a good patient for Ignis he can't control his response to more metal entering through that already agonizing wound. He outright wails into the fabric of his scarf, one fist slamming down onto the truck bed in an effort to remain still but he can't do it. Who could?

After far too short a moment for Ignis to have made any real progress Talcott bucks, helpless to the instinctive need to retreat from the source of the pain and suddenly he's thrashing to free his leg from Ignis' grip.

Talcott's wail is loud, but it's quickly getting drowned out by something louder. Iggy won't be able to see the sudden bright lights crashing down the slope toward them - which, frankly, is a bit alarming, but Gladio actually has his truck pretty well under control for how reckless his driving is right now. It helps when you're strong enough that the main concern isn't having to fight the steering wheel so much as not twisting so hard you wreck the steering column.

His truck plows to a halt on the crest of the hill near Vennaugh, and if he leaves it right there in such a way that his headlights are completely bathing the truck in light, that's extremely intentional. He rockets out of the cab, barely even slowing to slam the door behind him, and he's mounting Tal's truck so quickly it almost doesn't even look like he's using his hands.

"Tal? Iggy?" His gaze is already flicking between the both of them, assessing. "Shit, they nailed you pretty good, huh." A hand moves up to cup the side of Tal's neck, both a reassuring touch and a check of his pulse. "Bullet's still in there?" He gathers that much from Iggy holding those bloody forceps.

He has never been so relieved to hear a car crash before.

Although what a hell of a sight for Gladio to storm into - blood smeared across Ignis's face, a few drops at his glasses, all over his hands. Hands which are struggling to keep Talcott down as he bucks, a swear underneath his breath. "Gladio?" he says, half wheezed out. "Gladio- it's still inside, it didn't go through."

And he can't trust himself with something this important, not on his own. Not when Talcott is jerking about so violently. So he pulls the forceps away, holds them to Gladio desperately.

Ignis pulling away with the forceps and the crashing of Gladio's truck is enough to get him to stop flailing at least. The weight of the Shield practically vaulting into the truck, the warm hand on his neck, even the sound of his voice as he speaks to Ignis. It's something that has Talcott blinking up at his brother, one hand coming up to clutch ant the hand on him, hazel eyes damp with tears even though his jaw is still clenched, biting hard on his scarf. In that moment there is something of the scared little boy Gladio, in some ways, still sees him as. Hazel eyes nearly green in the vibrant light with the sheen of tears in them and the stricken pleading look on his face. As though it's all just a nightmare and his big brother can make the bad things go away, fix the hurts for him.

Then he clenches them closed again, releases the hold on Gladio's wrist so he can move, so he can do what's necessary.

"I'm here," Gladio says, voice reassuring, and it's hard to say if he means it for one of them specifically or both. It's Talcott's eyes he meets, but, well - it's not like Iggy's eyes would meet his, so that doesn't necessarily mean anything.

He takes those forceps from Iggy without hesitation. Part of him is caught between whether this is the best approach or if they should just bandage Tal up and get him back to civilization, but in the end it's their desperation that decides him. That, and not having time to dither on choices.

"Iggy, get around behind Tal and hold him still." It's a commanding tone, but none of them have time for niceties right now, and Gladio knows Iggy will be happy to do anything that could help Tal right now in any case. "Tal, don't look. You might flinch on reflex if you see what I'm doing." Even as he's speaking, he's taking Tal's leg to grip it under one arm, pinning it to his side and lifting it higher to get more of the light. He doesn't see the bullet, but he thinks he can see the trajectory it entered on, which gives him a good guessing point to start with. "I'll be as quick as I can."

At least the pain might keep Talcott from falling unconscious...

Indeed, there's zero heitation or indignation on Ignis's part at the way he's being spoken to. Quite frankly, Gladio could have insulted him to his face, and he wouldn't have even noticed. All that matters is the guidance, the knowledge of someone who can help more than he can right now in this particular area. For that, Ignis moves without hesitation to settle behind Talcott.

The slamming his hand against the truck had seemed to offer some relief, but Ignis knows they can't risk Talcott going to hit Gladio instead. Not when they're doing such delicate work. So, with a grunt, he goes to restrain his partner's arms as well, and his knees brace against him. Every bit of his body at work to force him to stay still.

"It's going to be alright, Talcott," he whispers against the back of his hair, forcing his voice to work for him again, the rasp inside of his throat be damned. "You're going to be alright. Stay awake, please."

Ignis pulls him back against his chest, loops his arm around so Tal can't lash out and Talcott follows the gesture, hands covering Ignis' and threading their fingers together so he can hold onto him. The force of his grip will likely become painful as soon as Gladio starts working but having the anchor of his partner against him calms him more than it has any business doing. He turns his head a little, nodding his agreement, trying to assure Ignis he'll stay awake without releasing the wad of fabric between his teeth.

He can't help jerking hard when Gladio does, inevitably start fishing for that bullet. His head falls back onto Ignis shoulder and then he turns to bury his face against the other man's neck, breathing hard through his nose as he tries to just endure the pain, a high sharp whine in the back of his throat, and his fingers laced with Ignis' in a grip so tight his hands are shaking.

At least, as Gladio promised, he's quick. Being able to see the trajectory path gives him better odds than Iggy had, and after only a couple tries at prodding around in the wound, he feels something hard in there. Of course, now he has to actually dig in a bit -

"Found it," he grunts, fully focused. "Hold him tight."

And then, sharp and quick - the best way to do this, he knows, no matter how much it hurts in the moment - he's gripping the bullet and yanking it out. Almost before it hits the bed of the truck, he's barking an instruction Iggy hardly needs.

"Iggy, potion - " Before Tal passes out and they have hell's own time getting him to swallow any of it.

Close as he is, Talcott's pained cries practically drown out all other sound to Ignis's ears. There's nothing else there but his ragged breath puffing out along his jaw, whines so keen that they could nearly stab him through the ear drums. Yet still Ignis holds on, still he somehow manages to listen to the sound of flesh being parted until -

"On it." Even as he nearly speaks, one of his hands pulls a potion out from the Armiger and he isn't even sure the weight registers in his hand before he's passing it over to Gladio in a way that almost feels more natural than anything else. Something done a hundred times before, through years and years, to the point that he'll never be able to forget it. There's no need for him to rush; he knows Gladio will carry through exactly as he needs to.

And with a hand free, Ignis reaches up. Sweeps Talcott's hair away from his face, rests his fingers in his hair. "Talcott, keep your mouth open. Stay with me, stay with us. Come on-" His hand slips down to his jaw, encouraging his mouth to part.

It's the fingers in his hair that finally break him, a sob catching in his throat. He wants to listen to Ignis, to obey that request but it takes him a few deperate panting breaths before he can let Ignis pull the scarf away from his mouth do as instructed. His jaw hurts from how hard he's been clenching his teeth and opening his mouth now makes it pop slightly from the tension.

But he does. He does because he knows he needs to drink the stupid potion but he's also so grateful that Ignis lets Gladio deal with actually pouring it into his mouth so that Talcott can cling to Ignis like a lifeline. In some ways, through all of this, he has been and Tal couldn't let go of him just now if he wanted to.

Gladio is careful with the potion, so careful - making sure he doesn't pour too fast for Talcott to swallow, making sure it all goes in his mouth, making sure he pauses occasionally to give Tal the chance to catch his breath. And the more of it gets into him, the more Gladio can relax. The more he sees that wound on Talcott's leg closing.

"He'll be okay, Iggy," he says, once he's sure this is the case. As soon as he's sure this is the case, because he knows Ignis has been just as panicked as he has been, if not more. And he actually presses the mostly empty bottle into Talcott's own hand so he can get that last little bit into him, while Gladio gets that makeshift tourniquet off his leg. It's no longer necessary, and it might start doing more harm than good being there. "Once he finishes off these last couple swallows, he can even pass out if he needs to. Gonna need to recuperate that blood loss a bit."

All while Talcott is fed that potion, Ignis coaxes him through it. Strokes his jaw, his hair. Murmurs reassurances to him. Praise. Meaningless little words in the long run, but just meant to be warm and encouraging. Something to guide him.

Even when Gladio passes on the potion bottle to Talcott, Igni keeps it up. Just to make sure. Just to be there whenever Talcott finally can't handle it any more and slumps into unconscious into him. It has to be soon, he just knows it. "I imagine so," he murmurs. "Gladio - thank you." A ragged inhale. The exhale isn't much better. "I... could not have done that on my own."

By the time he's at the end of the potion and Gladio presses it into his hand his frantic breaths have quieted enough that he can actually speak now. Mostly.

And the first thing he does is try to press the remnants of that bottle into Ignis hand. "Iggy..." He doesn't often give in to the urge to call him by that nickname, always so conscious of remaining professional. Partially because he's felt the need to, to ensure he is not still seen as a child, and partially because he's just always been polite and formal. But now, like this, sore and curled into the other's arms he can't help it.

He knows, even as he tries, though, that Ignis won't accept it. Will argue and Talcott doesn't have the strength for that argument so he lifts his head from Ignis' shoulder to meet Gladio's eye for a fleeting moment. "He needs one." He will hold that eye contact precisely long enough to get an assurance from Gladio before he forces down the last couple swallows of the one in his hand. He doesn't stay conscious long enough to see Gladio get that potion into Ignis but he knows he will. If anyone can get Ignis to take care of himself it'll be Gladio.

"Would've been hard to manage for just one person, blind or not," Gladio murmurs. "Even just holding him still." This is a quiet reassurance - this wasn't some failure of Iggy's related to his blindness, something he has to feel like he was uniquely not good enough to help Talcott with. Without someone else to hold Talcott, Gladio knows he would've struggled, too. And Gladio doesn't want Iggy questioning whether it's responsible of him to be with Talcott. He knows that's a ridiculous thought, but he also knows Iggy, in his fear and potential guilt over the what-ifs, might end up thinking it, and he wants to cut that one off at the pass.

(It's also a quiet refutation of Gladio's own previous attitudes, of not trusting or allowing Iggy to have any autonomy in his blindness. A reminder that not only was that a stupid way for him to think about the most competent man Gladio has ever known, but that he as he currently is knows that's stupid.)

He sits back, taking a deep breath as he sees Talcott go limp. "...all right, he can rest now. But he's right - you need a potion as well. I've got one you can drink while I start cleaning us up." They're all a complete mess of blood. "Tal's message said something about your leg? But that you weren't bleeding."

Indeed, just as Talcott and Gladio could both predict, Ignis doesn't accept the bottle. Just murmurs a soft reprimand on Talcott worrying about him when it wasn't from his leg that a bullet was pulled. If anyone needs all the help he can get, then it is Talcott, and Ignis won't waste a drop on himself.

All he'll do is hold him, wait for him to slip into unconsciousness even with his cheek pressed against mussed and sweaty hair. "It wasn't in a particularly easy place, that bullet, was it?" he comments, which is what he'll grant Gladio. At least for right now, and to return that good faith his boyfriend is kindly giving to him. Or perhaps to both of them. It wouldn't have been like that, once upon a time, and... he supposes he needs to remember that, instead of succumbing to panic.

Then again, panicked or not, he'd still respond the same either way to Gladio's inquiry. "He worries too much - especially considering the state he was in from all of that. My leg is nothing to worry about. I'm simply sore." Granted, he is also notably shifting to keep his leg out of sight...

"They had an airship over at the Quay... It was gunning at us the entire sprint down the boardwalk." He heaves out a sigh, cheek still against Talcott's hair. "I likely just over-exerted myself, Gladio. Or got hit with a bit of debris. A frankly ridiculous amount of luck, considering it all. I just need to press ice magic against it, and then I'll be fine."

"Uh huh." Gladio sounds unimpressed. "And when Talcott wakes up and asks if you've had a potion first thing, do you plan on lying to him? Do you want me to have disappointed him? You're drinking a potion, Iggy. We'll manage." And he pulls out the one he always keeps on him, pressing it into Ignis' hand. He'll get a new one once he rejoins the Glaives. "Iced tea. Sorry it's not Ebony, but you'll have to make do."

He gets to his feet, rooting around in the truck for water to at least wash their hands off with and some clean rags. "You guys cut it close. You probably should've had more backup if you were gonna come so close to Nif territory. Only two targets...even their shooting isn't that bad. Should've called me, at least, if not a few Glaives." Though Gladio suspects he knows why neither of them asked for Glaive assistance. He's sure that whatever they were doing...it was probably for Noct. They wouldn't want to divert Glaive resources to their own personal quest.

Gladio, though? No excuses there.

Soon enough, there's a damp, cool rag wiping Ignis' face clean. "You both need to be more careful." His voice is softer now. "Damn near gave me a heart attack."

"Blast you. You'll truly play unfairly when it suit you." But there's no real bite to the words. Perhaps, at best, a bit of disappointment that he couldn't fight against that sort of logic if he really tried. Gladio will press, Talcott will be disappointed, and... Maybe it will be quicker and more reassuring to know he's in fighting condition if anything else happens.

It's already been such a mess. He can't rule anything else out.

So he takes the potion as it is, downing it all in one go. Unlike Talcott, after all, he's not in such a bad state that he's at risk of choking while downing a drink. "The entire plan behind it was that they wouldn't even know there was something to shoot at," he counters, nose wrinkling at the sensation of the wet cloth. Just from surprise, rather than any true distaste. As his adrenaline finally starts to ease away, well, it's just in time with the pain thanks to the potion. "We would just go in and out.... At least, that was the ideal plan. Something that would be easier with two people. It was going well initially..."

Because of course it was.

"...I'm sorry. You know we wouldn't do something like this if we thought there was no chance of it succeeding." Even though he's not pulling himself away from Talcott at all, the concern pulling at his brow is easy to see.

"I know. You wouldn't risk Tal, even if you would risk yourself." There's a faint smile in Gladio's voice. He takes the empty bottle from Ignis' hands, and then takes Ignis' hands himself, carefully wiping the blood off them. "We're all gonna have a hell of a load of laundry when we get back." He can clean blood off skin, but all of them have clothes with a lot of blood on them at this point and there's not a whole lot he can do about that.

A moment after he cleans Iggy's hands, where he just...holds them, smoothing a thumb over the back of one hand. "But I worry. Especially when there's a close call like this. Not just for you, either." Not that Iggy really needs that specified, but Gladio feels the need to say it. Tal is his baby brother. When Tal told him he was getting cold over text...Gladio had practically smashed through a fence.

He slowly releases Iggy's hands, pulling away to start cleaning up Talcott. That cut on his face is healed up, too...but it looks like it's going to scar. Some wounds do, when healed with potions; Gladio isn't sure if there's a rhyme or reason to why. "Huh...Tal's gonna have his own face scar now." This is said almost conversationally, but of course Gladio doesn't take such things very seriously. More than that, he wants Iggy to know it's not something to take too seriously, either. "Not a bad one, but you'll be able to feel it. He looks like a real Amicitia man now."

It's hard to argue with that assessment - that he would have risked himself without batting an eye but it's Talcott that has him panicked. How can he? The scars on his face are a testament to the things he'll sacrifice from his own flesh if it means... fulfilling his duty.

But he won't have Talcott struggle through the same.

His fingers squeeze down against Gladio's, still shaking just a little bit as the adrenaline wears off. Maybe shaking even more because it's wearing off. Of course Gladio worries. Worries for his little brother, and for Ignis as well. He wishes he could tell him that he would make sure it never happens again, but... They both know that's a promise that he can't necessarily keep. Not for this night.

Instead, with his hands free again, he has one drift up, finding Talcott's jaw, then his cheek. "Is that so," he says, although he's a little absent minded as he says it. It's reminding him of what had happened in the midst of all that chaos, of what he'd been given. "Well. Amicitias do tend to get scars with near death experiences, as your own attests to."

"Can't argue with that." Gladio finishes cleaning Talcott off...about as much as is possible here, then tosses the rag down on the bed of the truck. The whole thing's gonna need cleaning later anyway. "All right, I'm gonna go turn my truck off and lock it up; gonna have to come back for it tomorrow. Hopefully before anyone finds it." A beat. "Actually, I'm gonna park it somewhere as out of sight as I can real fast. Don't want her falling into Nif hands if they come poking around here."

With Talcott passed out, there's only one driver here.

"Keep an eye on him for me. I'll be right back." He doesn't think Iggy would find it too easy to move Tal's dead weight into the cab of the truck, so he'll wait on that until he can assist Iggy with it.

In theory, Ignis could get behind the wheel.

In practicality, no one should ever let him do that.

That's something Ignis at least agrees on, and so he nods in Gladio's direction. "We'll be here," he tells him, before scoffing. "We are rather indisposed at the moment and really have no choice."

Still, that doesn't mean that Ignis is inclined to being motionless for all of this. By the time that Gladio comes back, he's managed to lay Talcott down properly, head to Ignis's lap and the rest of his body allowed to stretch out as best he can in all of this. He's still petting the young man's hair, expression somewhat distant. Not so distant as to be oblivious, however, and he tilts his head at the sound of Gladio's footsteps. "Truck tucked away well enough, then?"

"Yeah." Gladio pauses next to the bed of the truck, looking in at them. "Ready to move him to the cab?"

It's a bit awkward, between the two of them. Honestly, it could be exceedingly easy if Gladio just scooped Talcott up and moved him single-handedly, but...Gladio can tell Iggy doesn't want to let go of Tal right now. Can't exactly blame him, either. So he lets Iggy help, when honestly they both know Gladio doesn't really need any assistance, not with Gladio's strength being what it is. And neither of them mention this.

Gladio gets Talcott settled in the middle of the cab, with Iggy propping him up on the far side, and then hops behind the wheel. He breathes easier once they're all safely inside the truck again; without the high beams of his truck bathing Tal's truck, he couldn't be as sure the daemons would leave them alone.

It's not until they're on the road that he speaks. "You've been pretty out of it." He doesn't mention Tal told him about the kiss; he doesn't think it's necessary. Iggy will probably tell him himself, any second now.

Neither of them say anything on the matter indeed. And if Ignis has one hand ready to pull out one of his daggers at any moment... Well, they can simply count their good fortunes that there's never any need for it, especially with the beams on Talcott's own truck fired up.

Settled into the cab as he is, Ignis hardly spares it any thought as he winds his fingers together with Talcott's inbetween them. His heart still seems as though it's beating frantically within his chest, but everything else attached is finally winding down. Quite frankly, it leaves him exhausted. There's no small temptation to simply fall asleep right there.

However, well. He's never been the kind of person to feel comfortable enough to fall asleep while driving somewhere. Usually he's never been the one to have that privilege to start with, before everything happened. So despite how much better it would be for him, he doesn't dare. At best, he reaches up to pull the glasses from his face and dismiss them to the Armiger. There's no point in indulging in the comfort of their weight right now... and it's easier to rest his head against Talcott's this way as well.

Gladio's commentary draws his hand up to his face, rubbing at his. The scars pull a little uncomfortably; Ignis can't bring himself to care. "I suppose so. I'd apologize, except the night has already gone so poorly that I don't see a reason to." He can bother to be a little sassy with Gladio, really. It makes him feel better at least.

He wants to say that he wasn't wholly sure that him and Talcott would make it out of that situation for a moment... but there's no need to give those thoughts voice. Not when Gladio has already been so stressed just getting here.

Between them, his fingers roll over Talcott's knuckles. There's certainly something else on his mind. "...We couldn't make it all the way to the truck, initially, not under fire," he says, listening to the hum of the engine, wheels on asphalt that hasn't been maintained in years now. And it was always in rough shape to begin with honestly, thanks to the war. "We had to take shelter. The bait shack, as you recall. You'd be proud of him. He didn't hesitate in the slightest before taking control, issuing orders." It says something that Ignis trusts Talcott enough that he'd follow those same orders in any situation. "And then he was prepared to make a run for the truck. Back it straight into the shack to pick me up, from what I could hear."

Another pass over from his fingers. Feeling the way his knuckles have changed, little knicks here and there from their work.

"...He kissed me before he made that run." Ignis's voice becomes quiet, low from the heaviness of it. "How - dare he kiss me thinking he might die." Because that's what it was, wasn't it? A kiss from someone who didn't think he'd have a chance again.

But that depends on if he can adjust to Ignis suddenly saying, "And you, how long did you know, hm?"

Of course he can adjust. If anyone has a healthy respect for Ignis and his alarming levels of insight, his frightening levels of competence, it's Gladio. Perhaps even more than Talcott, despite Talcott having been with him so long. Talcott figured he could hide it. Gladio had let him do what he wanted, but that hadn't meant he fully believed it was even possible.

"Almost a year now," he says, knowing better than to lie. Knowing better than to even try to play dumb. "That night I took Tal out to listen for that sound my truck was making, not long after his last birthday? My truck was fine. I caught him watching you completely lovestruck while you were making dinner, so I figured we'd better talk about it somewhere private. It was his idea to wait to talk to you about it."

Like Ignis, he doesn't seem bothered at all about the kiss.

"That said, he probably was scared either of you could die. And under the circumstances, you can't blame him."

A faint annoyed noise rises up over the sound of the truck. "So that is what it was. I thought that things went far too smoothly and quickly considering the vague way you were speaking about the matter, but I had no idea what." He was missing some pieces to the puzzle, after all.

Hearing about it is still - frustrating, maybe, is the word, and his head thumps dully against the back of the seat. "...Either of us could die at any moment," he finally says. "Any of us, frankly. Why on earth... should we wait until the situation is at its most miserable?"

"Some life-or-death scenario wasn't what he was waiting for." Gladio glances over at both of them. "He was waiting until he turned eighteen. He didn't think you'd be able to think of him as an adult before then, at the very least, if you ever could...and I thought you might want to hold off until then yourself, just to be sure you weren't somehow taking advantage of him and some kind of teenage crush. Did I read you wrong there?"

Ignis turns his head away. And considering that it's not as though he can watch the stone walls outside transition to hills...

"...Even with the apocalypse hanging over our heads, a man should try to have standards," he admits. "And perhaps he would find someone. Anyone would adore a man such as himself."

"And anyone would adore you. Honestly, when I realized he'd fallen for you, my first thought was that I really should have seen it coming." Gladio smiles a little. "Don't know how anyone could spend as much time with you as he does and not fall for you the same way I did." And he reaches across the back of the seat, over Talcott's head, to brush fingers briefly against Iggy's cheek.

"He did find someone, Iggy. He found the best partner I could've ever imagined for him. Couldn't ask for higher standards, could I?"

"Gladiolus Amicitia, I daresay that you are speaking from a place of utmost bias," Ignis points out, although with a sigh of surrender, he gives in to the touch along his cheek. Leans into it, just a bit. "...Eyes on the road, now. I heard the sound of your truck landing near us even despite all the screaming. I'd like to avoid a repeat but accidental performance."

Not that it's liable to happen in Leide, where the roads are mostly flat instead of following along cliffs and such as in Cleigne or Duscae, but.... still. It's just a small reminder, while they're still not out of the woods just yet. Not until they get to Hammerhead.

"...I just worry about leaving him behind," he admits quietly after a moment. "It is one thing to make a choice with love when you know that every day may be your last. But if our research doesn't turn anything up, and we return to reclaim Insomnia..." His hand curls into a fist on his lap. "We'd all be leaving him behind, Gladio. And even not looking into my own feelings... I worry on how cruel that might be."

"Crueler than potentially leaving him behind without ever having gotten to be with you in the first place?" Gladio snorts. "Talcott knows that's a risk, too, as much as anyone. He's been at your side this whole time, hasn't he? If he wants to be with you, it's with his knowing that possibility exists as well as you do. It's not your place to decide whether or not he should put his heart on the line like that - not when it's a decision he could make for himself. That's something I would've done...before."

There's no answer, not immediately. Just the rumble of the truck. Distant screeches that have become their new normal as they've traveled.

"...You're right." A sigh. "Of course you're right, Gladio. It's been far too long since I've had to consider matters of the heart like this. After we returned to Lucis, I frankly thought it would be a matter I'd never think on much again, save with perhaps Prompto, depending on things." In other words, with his relationship with Gladio already established (even if gone straight to hell) and Prompto having been the only one (sort of) talked about... Who else would he even consider?

The sleeping sleeper agent next to him, at it turns out.

"So you're truly not bothered with the possibility of my dating you both, then."

"No. How could I be, when I love you both myself?" A pause, then a chuckle. "Well, maybe not Tal in quite that way, but you know what I mean.

"I want you both to be happy...and I know better than anyone what great men you both are. If I was going to see you with anyone else, how could Tal not be one of my top picks? You think I'd be okay with you being with Prom - who's great, don't get me wrong - but I'd draw the line at a kid who's practically my own brother? The kid who's been your right hand for years, when even I was failing at being there for you for awhile? If it's a little weird to think of you maybe sleeping with Tal - that's something I can deal with on my own time. It's not something I'd ever keep the two of you from being happy over, though."

He glances down at Talcott momentarily. "Besides...I've seen the way the two of you are together. Sometimes I almost get jealous, because I feel like he's learned to mesh with you even better than I have. And again, that's my problem to deal with, and to some degree a problem I caused for myself. But I can't pretend I don't see how good the two of you are for each other. Or the potential for a relationship the two of you have."

A pause.

"I want you to have what you want to have, Iggy. Whatever that is. Whoever that is. And like you said...with the world being the way it is, there's not much worth denying yourself for. Not when happiness is such rare currency these days. If there's anything I could do to make either of you happy, I'd do it. What's a little more getting over myself? I already swore to you that I'd do as much of that as it takes."

This time, it's another hand which reaches over the seats. Slides into Gladio's hair soft and fond, exploratory of that long hair. Longer than it's ever been, at the very least.

"And I too want you to be happy, my dear," Ignis reminds him. "I want you to have what you want to have just as much. So don't you go off hoarding all your worries and problems to yourself. I'll trust you, when you say that you want us to be happy, but in turn, I want you to let me know whenever you would struggle with this sort of relationship as well."

From his hair, along the back of his ear. Brushing against the soft hair of his jaw.

"Over three years I had to wait for you, Gladio. I won't stand to wait much more."

Gladio leans into that touch, although - responsibly - without taking his eyes off the road. "I'll let you know if I'm struggling with it," he says, and Iggy will be able to hear the small smile. "But I think seeing how happy Tal is going to be, and how happy I think he's gonna make you? I'm gonna have a hard time not being happy myself, seeing it. So I'm not all that worried. As long as I get to keep you...there's not much else I could need."

Then the smile turns into a grin. "So...you settled real quickly into this idea. Been harboring feelings for him for awhile? And did you know it, or did he just make you realize in retrospect?"

"Hush." The soft strokes quickly turn into a light flick of Gladio's hear, and then Ignis pulls his hand back so that he can settle it in Talcott's once more. "You're an utter wretch. I shall decline to answer whatsoever, so you may go to bed wondering."

But Ignis always tries to figure out his own emotions. Like when he knew he had a crush on Gladio, or when he long ago made the decision that he would give his everything to Noctis... or when he realized, hand on Talcott's much stronger jaw than was in his memories, that things were changing bit by bit.

Fortunately or unfortunately, he's always been ready to shove his own emotions down into a hole at any given time with expert efficiency.

"I had a feeling." Gladio chuckles. "We weren't the only ones who knew for awhile, were we? The way you were with him...I wouldn't have sworn to you having a crush, but I was damn sure that you weren't far off. You're a reserved guy, Iggy, but I've never seen so much open affection that wasn't even behind closed doors as you show to Tal. It's cute as hell. Even with me, you usually save that for when it's just us."

A quiet noise of disgruntlement. "He is an incredibly touchy type of individual, as you well know. I felt it to be my responsibility to return that the longer he helped with me minor things initially, and then it simply became a habit with him. I wouldn't let him think that I thought him bothersome, or that I wished to ignore him."

And then they fell in love, so, all the more he's a fool then!

"Mmhm. I'm glad you suffered through that for his sake." Gladio's voice is thick with amusement. "Thanks for tolerating my annoying little brother, Iggy~"

He couldn't be more obviously taking the piss if he were working sewer maintenance.

But then, on a more serious note - "So once we get back, I'll put him to bed and then get our clothes washing. You need to crash, too, or are you gonna insist on cooking something nourishing for him first?"

He knows his husband.

"I think first I may very well toss you from the top of the diner, quite frankly. Scoundrel." But indeed, there's so much to do. But indeed, just as much as Gladio knows, he knows too what he's going to do.

"He'll need something for when he wakes up, and we don't know when that will be. I'll make sure that there's something waiting for him. After everything he's been through, he'll need it, especially for recovery." The potion can only do so much for him.

Ignis? He's fine, of course. He didn't get a bullet in his leg, and, anyway, he had a potion.

"You're tired, too, you know." But Gladio knows that he's not likely to win this argument. "At least split the work with me, once I've got the clothes soaking. And then I'll drag you to bed afterwards. We can all pile into one bed, even, if it'll help you relax about Tal to have him close."

"Not so tired that I can't make dinner. But... I would appreciate the help," Ignis concedes. "It would be nice to cook with you again. Perhaps nice enough to make up for how I have not the slightest idea of how you plan on getting three very tall men crammed into the same small camper bed."

"You'll just have to use me as your mattress," Gladio replies easily. "Not like you've never done it before. Then it's only two people wide, right?" Gladio, you're more like a guy and a half.

"But yeah, been awhile since I've helped you in the kitchen. I may not be as attuned to you as Tal yet, so you'll have to let me know what you need if I'm not picking up on it the same way he does. But it's not like you've ever minded bossing me around." Gladio grins as they pull into the outskirts of Lestallum.

"You are lucky that Talcott has grown quite well, or else you'd squish him, Gladio. Really now."

Still, a plan has been made for the two of them - the three of them, really. So Ignis is more than fine with it all as they settle back into Lestallum, where the heat and noise alike never cease.

It's a simple thing, really, to get Talcott out of the truck and back to the camper. After such a long drive, Ignis feels a little bit better about it and doesn't even hover, instead letting Gladio handle things well enough on his own. A long enough drive can take care of all the panic and adrenaline, as it turns out. Maybe too much, because his legs nearly shake from the long drive and losing all of that adrenaline, but... It's surmountable.

Easy enough for them to strip Talcott of his tattered clothes, and then Ignis's own when Gladio points out his jacket is torn in more places than Ignis could have realized. Truly if not for the chobham armor underneath... Things would have been far worse.

If they need a moment after that revelation... No one else can judge them.

But then the laundry is done, armor is pried off from underneath clothing, and a meal is made over in the little kitchen. Something heavy in meat to make up for the blood loss. And then...

And then they go to sleep.

When Talcott finally wakes up, he'll find himself in a far hotter and more comfortable place than his memories may recall. There's no chill wind rolling in from the sea, no distant heavy steps of Red Giants patrolling the routes along streets. No nauseating smell of blood filling up a small space. It is, if anything, incredibly warm where he is. Part of that is because he's in Lestallum.

The other part may be because he's squeezed in against the wall by Gladio's massive body, and Ignis's body atop of it.

Should he move, he'll find that his hand is still being held by the latter in particular.

It is, in fact, because he's hot that he wakes up when he does. His body feels like lead and, and his head is pounding. For a moment the darkness when he opens his eyes is enough to have him jolting in panic. At least until he feels fingers threaded through his own and his eyes slowly adjust. Not his truck, the curtained darkness of a camper. His fingers squeeze gently around Ignis', quiet wonder in his eyes as he stares up at the other man. He must have been so worried and at once that makes his heart ache for the distress it must have caused him and flutter strangely in his chest for the rush of emotion that comes with that knowledge.

He rubs a thumb over Ignis' knuckles, doesn't dare kiss them, doesn't risk waking him up. Looking between the other two makes his face begin to turn red though, so much skin on display and even in the dark his eyes begin to map out the scattered freckles and imperfections on Ignis' back. Talcott doesn't want to wake them but squished between them and the wall as he is he can't move much. Instead he just lays back, pulling his knee up toward his chest to look at the damage remaining from the bullet. The motion aches and he can't help sucking in a sharp breath in response, one he tries to release slowly, tries not to make noise doing it.

Okay maybe that's asking too much too quickly. The potion did a lot but they're too scarce to do more than what's necessary to stabilize and let the body to the rest. But now that he's woken up he's keenly aware of a number of things. How thirsty he is for one, all the running and yelling and adrenaline, in addition to the blood loss, making him dehydrated. And, of course, the fact that all three of them are barely dressed and piled into the same bed and he's not sure what to do about that, exactly.

Gladio's his brother and also very frequently without a shirt anyway so it's not that strange to let himself slump back down against the other man's shoulder. The odd part is settling down and being able to look up at Ignis' face, feel their fingers threaded together... maybe even reach out to gently brush his fingers up along his arm, slow and adoring, savoring the moment.

Predictably due to his lack of sight, it doesn't take too much to rouse Ignis up from his sleep. That can be a problem at times, with his paranoid heart rousing him constantly over the course of a night until he can settle back again. So for all that Talcott does his best to stay quiet while he adjusts in place, looks at his knee... Something or another rouses Ignis in the midst of all of it, although his eyes stay shut.

No real need to open them, after all.

When all's settled and there's only a soft touch to his arm, he shifts in place. "Good morning," he whispers, a bottle pulled into his free hand that he passes along over Gladio's face. "How do you feel, Talcott?"

That sleepy murmur has him yanking his hand back like a kid caught stealing a cookie. His other hand tenses, gripping Ignis' hand tightly and he was already too warm and thirsty and sweaty but now his face is so vibrant Gladio may well wake up from the heat of it so close to his arm.

"Sorry-" Half hissed, annoyed at himself and trying to wiggle closer to the wall a little to give them more room. "I'm... okay." He finally offers, forcing himself to take the time to think about it and not just respond automatically. He's not "fine" and trying to say as much would be an insult to the both of them that had done so much for him. "Sore, still tired. Dehydr-" A quiet little laugh that he half smothers into a pillow when he realizes what Ignis is handing him.

It's difficult to do, uncapping the bottle without disentangling their hands but he could bring himself to let go for anything right now. Not until Ignis wills it.

Unfortunately for both of them, Ignis is a man of practicality. Talcott accepting the bottle is all he needs to finally let go of his hand, at least for a moment. Just long enough for him to get a good few swigs of something in him to make up for all that blood loss.

"Mm, that's unsurprising, with everything that happened. I've got something waiting in the kitchen for you, whenever you feel up to food. It ought to help make you feel a little better, or at least that is certainly the ideal." Adjusting his arms beneath him, braced against Gladio's ample chest, Ignis turns his head so he can properly listen to the other.

"Still... I'm glad you're doing much better than you were in the truck. You gave me... quite a fright."

He doesn't... mean to slug half the bottle in one go but that sure is what happens, breath rushing out when he finally pauses. The distance between them is so small but it's enough to help him clear his thoughts a little. Even if he knows damn well that watching Ignis adjust, settle himself over Gladio's chest, perfectly content and comfortable means he has that stupid, goofy smile on his face again. The one Gladio caught him with months ago. Especially like this in the dim light of the camper, remembering the desperate way he'd clung to the older man.

"I'm sorry." A soft murmur, shaking his head a little to push away the muddled thoughts of what he'd done through the agony of Gladio wrenching that chunk of metal out of him. "I'll be fine. What about you? Your leg?" It's a little difficult, finding a way to sit up properly but still keep his leg extended and not kick his brother. He doesn't think before he's reaching out as though he means to touch the leg Ignis had been favoring.

But he comes up short, forcing himself to lean back against the wall of the camper and keep his damn hands to himself. Ignis isn't even wearing pants, that is... far too intrusive.

"He did make sure you drank a potion, right?"

Just listening to the way that Talcott's throat swallows down what must be a good portion of the bottle... He's glad, honestly. Always good to have a drink on hand for occasions like this. And maybe it soothes him a bit because it means that Talcott is recovering, that he can guzzle down everything with ease and not threaten to choke.

"I told you it was fine," Ignis says, scolding him just lightly. "Just a sprain." Probably that's what it was. "I've been able to walk on it just fine. I even managed to help Gladio bring you into the truck cab before we came back."

Did Gladio need the help? No.

That's not important right now.

"But, yes, I did take a potion." Reaching over, his hand finds Talcott's chin and follows the line of his jaw. "Gladio made sure of that. He wouldn't turn down a request from you, after all, and so he quite twisted my arm on the matter." His fingers drift upwards, linger there on Talcott's cheek. "...Just like you, to worry over me when you were the one in far worse straits."

It helps that he's not hyperventilating now, now panting and trying to swallow down the pain as well as what liquid he could manage. His lips curve into a small smile that gets a little hum with it, pleased and maybe just a touch amused. They both know that Gladio would not need help carrying Talcott, even if he is far larger now than the last time Gladio had carried him around.

He may even feel a hint of that smile before Talcott's lips part, the intake of breath surprised but not quite a gasp. Then his breath shudders out and he tilts his head a little, leaning forward to make sure Ignis can reach wherever he wants to touch. Suddenly his heart is racing again, his cheek hot under Ignis' touch but he couldn't pull away for anything. "I wanted to make sure you were okay." The words a soft murmur, breath ghosting over Ignis' wrist. "I needed to know you'd be okay."

There it is again. That burning heat along his skin that Ignis always took for granted, just a little bit. But there's no denying what it is, now, especially with that shiver of a breath that rolls across his wrist. Cooler than Lestallum's insufferable heat.

"And I am," Ignis reassures him, stroking his cheek. "Right here, fully recovered. So now... I think we can both address something, can't we?" Another stroke, but this time his fingers drift a little further. Linger there, at the corner of Talcott's mouth.

Ignis has touched his face before, so very many times, wanted to know, to see, how he was growing up. Talcott had doubted, at the time, that Ignis had really internalized it though. Wasn't that one of the many reasons that, despite Gladio's insistence that he need not worry about rejection, he'd wanted to wait until he was 18?

There is no doubting the way Ignis touches him now, the gentle exploration, the warmth of his words, the way his fingers settle so near and the way he mentions addressing something almost as though he means it as a dare. As though there were any chance Talcott didn't know exactly what they needed to address. But with Ignis' hands on his face like this he couldn't find the words to explain himself even if he tried. He knows that and he's pretty sure Ignis does too.

So he does the next best thing. His own hand comes up to settle atop Ignis', pressing his cheek into the other man's hand. One more of those shuddering breaths, disbelief and adoration in the faint sound that comes with, and then Talcott turns his face into the curve of Ignis' hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

For him, his hands have always been invaluable. As a chef, as a fighter. Yet as he went blind, their importance was elevated in a way that he'd never been able to dream of. They became so much more, half replacing his sight even if no true replacement could ever truly happen. A careful confirmation of the world around him.

His sight. His way of finding the truth. Of still proving to the world that he could exist.

Talcott gently takes all of that, and his lips settle warm and sweetly there in the darkness to take up so much of Ignis's world.

"There we go," he murmur softly, before he shifts there atop Gladio so that he's closer to the other Amicitia man here. "A much more proper kiss, now." His fingers slide along Talcott's cheek, just a little bit, not able to do too much without leaving those lips entirely. "Never kiss a love goodbye like you did, Talcott. You do it right."

You do it in the comfortable warm dark, held close, hoping for the best.

Like Ignis does right there, his other palm braced against Gladio's heartbeat while he leans down to guide his lips down to Talcott's jaw, his cheek, hopefully to where another pair may meet him.

"Happy early birthday, Talcott."

Never kiss a love goodbye like you did

And suddenly the lips against Ignis' palm are trembling and the horrible reality of how close he'd come to death today really hits him. How close he'd come to losing this man that's come to mean so much to him. To losing everything. He lets out a shaky breath, cursing himself for getting emotional while Ignis is being so sweet to him. But it's something he'd only ever dreamed of, something he'd thought for certain would never happen.

He uses the gentle, guiding kisses along his face, so close to that new scar that Ignis may well feel the divot of it beneath his lips, to pull in a breath, to steady himself. Then the hand covering Ignis' moves from his cheek across to cradle Ignis' face when he finally meets his lips. Soft and warm with just a hint of that desperation from before. But this time it is not time or fear that drives it but merely how long he has yearned for this, how deeply he's wanted this moment. Ignis' lips upon his, his heart feeling as though it might burst with love and joy, the opportunity to slide his fingers through thick hair.

That murmur beside his mouth, though, all the tension and uncertainty, all the lingering stress, everything bursts in a snort of laughter and relief. He doesn't take the hand away from Ignis' face but he does turn his own to hide against Iggy's neck once more while he reaches over to swat at Gladio's arm. He's awake. Of course he's awake. He's probably been awake since Ignis shifted to use his chest as a pillow.

"You told him? You ass." But he's still laughing, still clinging, still so very, very grateful they're all okay.

Yeah, he's awake, and that warm chuckle of his as Talcott smacks him fills the room. "You're the one who kissed him," Gladio counters, finally cracking an eye open to look sidelong at Tal. "Didn't think there was much left to tell him." He moves an arm to rest comfortably around Iggy's waist. "Besides, he was being all huffy that you waited for a close call to make a move. I was just clearing your name."

He was being a little more than huffy, but Gladio doesn't want to bring the mood down by putting any of them back into a bad headspace.

He leans up to lightly kiss the curve of Iggy's neck. "Y'know, Iggy, if you let me up, I can go get Talcott some of that stew." And, of course, it'd be easier for the two of them to talk. "I'd offer to give you guys some privacy, but no way is Iggy letting you do anything strenuous before you've got some food in you, Tal."

He understands. With all the thing he's done in his life, the terror of having his life snatched away or - worse, in Ignis's eyes - the lives of those he loves snatched away, Ignis is familiar with the sounds Talcott makes so close to him. The shuddering emotion in every breath, the yearning touch along his cheeks.

He understands.

And he kisses Talcott gently, hoping that he can tell that too, just from the quiet acceptance of it all.

That includes the outburst of relieved laughter, and Ignis smiles back, lips to Talcott's hair as the other man hides away in his shoulder. "I think we both know that you could just lift me up if you so chose, but I suppose I can do some of the work myself," he says, finally shifting so that his knees find some mattress to brace against. "Don't get too large a bowl for him yet, until we see how it takes to his system."

With that advice giving, he does indeed move off of Gladio... and onto Talcott.

It's the only way this is going to work, at least for a moment.

Well there were plenty of ways it could have worked that involved Ignis standing up but Talcott can't argue that this is uh.... effective?

Unlike Gladio, however, this is all new to him and he gasps sharply at the sudden press of Ignis above him, all warm skin and lean muscle. Just when he thought he'd gotten himself under some semblance of control no less. For as stiflingly hot as Lestallum is, how sticky and gross he'd felt just a moment ago, he suddenly shivers at the rush of sensation that is Ignis above him. On top of him.

Sweet Shiva-

Sure he'd told Gladio before that it was so much more than him being a horny teenager but it sure is difficult to remind himself of that when there's so much of Ignis' body against him. "Um-" It's stammered a little nervously as he gently lowers his arm around Ignis, face burning even hotter now. "So... you made stew?"

Yeah uh this is a normal way to have a conversation alright. Yep. It's... fine????

Gladio snorts in disbelieving amusement as he gets out of bed, but mercifully doesn't hang around to tease Talcott about this. (If nothing else, he's roasting too.) He simply gets out of bed, stretches - which is a sight in itself for Tal to treat himself to, if he's not too preoccupied with Iggy on top of him, which is a valid thing to be preoccupied by - and then pads out of the room, still in nothing but boxers.

What? He is just being efficient about how much energy he uses. And if perhaps there's a part of him that takes in his own mild amusement, that's no one's business but his own.

He does at least take some pity on poor Talcott after a moment, however, adjusting so that the two of them are laying side by side rather than him taking up all the space immediately atop of him. One of his hands makes sure his arms stay around him, granted, but... this is more casual in some respects.

"You lost a good deal of blood after everything that happened," he says, stroking along the side of Talcott's face again. "You need something with a good bit of meat in it to make up for all of that. And... I think we may need to take a day's rest after what happened. So it won't be a problem to eat something so heavy. Hopefully... It helps you recover."

Much as he would not mind the little show Gladio puts on... Ignis is on top of him.

Perhaps not casual exactly but it's slightly less overwhelming all at once. And if he scoots over just a little to make sure Ignis stays on the side where he didn't just have a bullet yanked out of his leg, well... he already demonstrated that he's a little sore at the very least. But Ignis' fingers stroke along his cheek and he hums a little sigh, content and adoring at that simple affectionate touch.

"I'm surprised you got your hands on enough meat to make a stew, honestly." Game is getting scarcer and scarcer, the livestock is so often carefully rationed. He has a feeling Gladio went out and killed something especially for this but he's not going to call them on that. But he nods, tilting his head to make sure Ignis can feel the gesture in the brush of his cheek against Iggy's hair.

"There's plenty to work on that doesn't require being out in the field that we can afford to take a day I think." He's still flustered, how could he not be, but he surrenders to the impulse this time, pressing a kiss to Ignis' temple, keeping their faces close together though he's not sure he dares to kiss him again just yet. Not when they're pressed against one another like this and Gladio's not 10 feet away. (And already teasing him about- well- that.)

"I have my resources," Ignis says dismissively, which means that Talcott could likely be right. However, it's not something that he'll admit anytime soon.

Frankly speaking, with how frantic he was over Talcott getting injured, it's a miracle that Ignis didn't go out personally himself to handle it, blindness and the necessity of driving be damned.

For now he simply absorbs in Talcott's fingers actually daring to thread through his hair, and the kiss which soon follows after it. A kiss simply to his head, yes but a kiss nonetheless. "Indeed. And I imagine Gladio will be relieved as well." There's just a moment where he takes in it all. Takes in the relief of listening to Talcott's breathing right besides him, the heartbeat he can feel right past that palm.

"...I'm glad that you'll recover, Talcott. I... couldn't bear to lose you."

"After the scare we gave him?" Talcott chuckles but there's no real humor in it, merely a sound desperately trying to lighten the weight of what they've gone through in the past 24 hours. It's a futile attempt, especially when Ignis says that and Talcott's chest aches with the thought of how badly things could have gone.

"I'm sorry." He manages after a moment, voice hoarse with the tightness in his throat. "I shouldn't have put you in harm's way like that." Which is the opposite of the point Ignis is trying to make but something that Talcott feels too keenly not to say it. They should've been more careful, should have done as Gladio said and called him before he was dying. Should never have risked so much for no guarantee.

He'd never forgive himself if something happened to Ignis. Not only because he loves him so dearly but to deny the King his right hand when he returns- Talcott could not bear the weight of that. It is enough knowing that, when the time comes, he will have to let all of them go into the darkness one last time. His eyes are misty, lashes damp with the threat of tears and he squeezes Ignis close.

"I couldn't bear to lose you, either. Not yet. Not like that." A quiet admission that he does know precisely the price they would -will- all pay for the King.

"Talcott." His tone becomes decidedly stern, hearing the other speak like that. Not for the understanding that Talcott has of everything they'll do, that they'll give up for their King - although that also earns a quiet little cold twist in the pit of his stomach.

No. He presses their foreheads together for another reason. "You were the reason I made it through alive. You cannot shoulder the blame for my own actions. There is not a thing that I have done, a hurt I have bore upon my body, that I regret." His eyes are a testament to that. Frankly, he'd give them up a thousand times - do far worse - if he could help Noct. Keep him safe.

"Do you think that I wouldn't have gone on my own, if I thought it worth it?"

Talcott leans into that touch, presses more firmly against Ignis' forehead for a moment, a nuzzle equal parts affection and apology. His hand comes up to curl around the back of Ignis' neck, keeping him close.

"I know- And I wouldn't have let you go alone. I-" A shuddering breath and this time Ignis can hear how wet it is, thick with emotion that he tries to push down. "I knew but I didn't-"

"I didn't notice the airship for so long because I- I found Dino's-" His breath hitches and he tries to shake his head, tries to pull back before he loses it completely. He knows Ignis will not let him pull away though. "That stupid goddamn tie of his-" He hadn't had a chance to say anything, to tell Iggy why he'd suddenly stopped and gone quiet. Probably Iggy had thought he'd heard the airship, being so much further out onto the water, but no, he'd just... he froze up when he knows it's too dangerous to do that.

But it was one thing to know, to have heard, that Galdin Quay was over run, to have Dino's voice disappear from his radio and the intervening weeks had not seen him return. He knew. But knowing he was out there prowling the night just-

He couldn't take it then and he can't take it now, his shoulders starting to shake though he tries so hard not to fall apart just yet. "I got distracted and it almost got us killed. I-I'm sorry-"

Oh.

"Oh, Talcott," he murmurs, a hand of his own rising up to mirror Talcott's position, fingers curving around his neck. "I didn't know." He couldn't know. Couldn't see. He knew that Galdin had gone quiet of course, knew what that likely meant because there was sometimes so few bits of kindness and luck in the world left, but...

But he knows what it means to know something in theory, and then to step forward and see it laid out in person.

To truly have to reconcile with the empty hollow ache of a loss.

Gently, he shifts the two of them up just a little bit, enough for him to pull Talcott close. "Don't hold it in. You don't have to. You're safe... and we know." His fingers scrape through his hair. "We know it hurts."

Gladio is as silent as a cat as he comes back into the room, tray of bowls in hand. He sets it quietly on a nearby table before he sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out a hand to touch Talcott's shoulder. He doesn't say anything; there's not a lot that can be said. Right now...Talcott just needs them with him.

How long was he standing in the doorway? Who knows.

Dino had been the first friend he'd made independently of Gladio. Sure he knew the guys but that's not how or why he met Talcott. Prompto had given him a crash course in some of the basics and Dino... Dino had immediately latched on to the fact that he was so smart, so observant, a proper journalist in the making. He'd tried to argue that he was more historian and Dino had just laughed him off and said it was the same thing when history was being made all around them. And in a way he was right. It's why Talcott kept such diligent notes in his grandfather's journal. Why he documented and researched and verified all their sources, tried to find first hand accounts wherever possible.

He'd told Dino once, after they lost the cape, that when all this was over he was going to write a book about it. He- He hadn't told anyone else about that. Not even Ignis. Dino taught him a lot but Dino never made it feel like teaching. Just... sharing tips between colleagues even though he was so young.

In some ways it felt like losing him was even worse than if one of the guys were lost because... so few people seemed to care. He wasn't a hero, not like Gladio or Iris and the fact that it was so easy for people to forget when it was their information, his information that had gotten so many people to safety, made sure they saw their children and siblings again. It wasn't fair.

"I shouldn't have let myself get distracted." Murmured through wheezing breaths and he can almost hold it together until Gladio's hand settles on his shoulder and with them on either side of him he just.... collapses, crying hard though not outright sobbing. He's fought down tears so many times over the last five years, promised himself he'd be more reliable than some cry baby kid. And he has been, he knows that, logically, but it's still hard to let go. Has been hard to let go.

Somehow nearly dying makes it a lot harder to worry about whether or not he should cry.

It's so easy to get tired of tears, in this night. To be sick of them, to hate the weakness that comes with them. Ignis understands.

But they still need to be shed.

And maybe they haven't let Talcott cry as much as he's needed to.

So Ignis stays with him. He holds Talcott inbetween him and Gladio, tucked in against his shoulder, and lets him cry. Not just for Dino too, although he was no doubt the catalyst, but every other tear that has been held back these terrible long years. With his hand gently stroking through Talcott's hair... It's all he can do.