A LAWFUL WASTELAND

[counterattack]

[ it's December 8. Law turns 18 today. at this point, he's been living in Copalli for over a year. during the final relic fiasco, he achieved trance within about five seconds (because it's basically overlimit) and faced Tiamat in her castle because he had a score to settle with dragons (dragons, wyverns, same shit) and had enough taking shit from these mother fucking guardians in this mother fucking jungle. it was epic.

anyway, it's a few months later and Law lives in Tikal again, down at the bottom of the crater. they've built bridges and pulleys aboveground, as well as created a system to keep the crater from filling with water when it rains. although most of his farm was lost during Tikal's fall, he's rebuilt it bigger and better than ever and repopulated it with even more chickens, hogs, cows and even a few semi-domesticated mist monsters. there's also proper crops, probably due in part to at least one friend or another planting on the huge expanse of land he's set up there. he also rebuilt the inn that collapsed on top of him back then, and this time it's actually finished. he got a local business manager to help run the place and they export animal products and crops all over Copalli. the inn is booming. it's great.

all is well.

except now it's his birthday and Law is just trying to go about his business like he doesn't know that, strapping on his fancy wolf gauntlets and shouldering a big pack of supplies to go make some delivery trips to the other cities. nothin' to see here, not ya lil dude all growed up, a solid 5'9" (and a half) with some cool tribal tats done over his wyvern scars and something of a more mature countenance, buuuuuttt still the dweebo dorkus doofus meathead he's always been.

ANYWAY, THIS IS #LATERGRAM INCENSEDVERSE. medallion him, meet him at any of the cities, fight monsters together on the road, pretend there was a party planned that he's trying to sneak out of showing up to, WHATEVER WORKS. ]

Comments

[indeferent]

<sub>[ for the first time in a long while he's suddenly thankful that the fur covering his ears is too dark to show just how pink he knows they are. they're burning, and when Gladio reaches up to touch his forehead the backs of his knuckles thunk against the curve of his horns and earns a small grimace. he'll pretend he's more embarrassed over that than reality which he's not getting out of anytime soon. no, he knows the kind of determination Law has, and it very nearly reminds him of his own sister — as soon as she sets her sights on something it's damn near impossible to shake her and/or change her mind, and in the months he's known Law? he's come to find that he's eerily similar in that aspect.

six, strike him down right now and save him. ]</sub>

Sloppy? Who do I look like? Blondie?

_{[ sorry not sorry prom, but it's true!! ]}

I don't get dumb, either. I...

_{[ Gladio's face twists up in another half-grimace, half-scowl (which winds up looking more like a pout than anything), and to buy time he grabs the second garula cake that Law had abandoned. time to shove that thing right into his mouth and "manners and upbringing" be damned, he's talking with his own mouth full. ]}

I get... Touchy. Happy?

[counterattack]

[ Law snorts, but still makes a face at that little comment. Excuse you, Prompto is a gentleman and a saint?? But then again, he hasn't ever seen him under the influence of alcohol, either. What secrets is he not privy to here?! Things to find out someday, maybe... but in the meantime, the gossip is all on Gladio today, and wow, he's... really twisted up about this! He doesn't know whether to laugh or just gape at him, so in the end he settles for something kind of in the middle. It's a very "haha, oh man" kind of chuckle. ]

Ohhhhhh. ...O-Oh.

[ Oh.

Touchy.

No, okay, yeah, he's laughing. Laughing is a lot easier than overthinking that and getting all twisted up about it, too, and then potentially running his idiot mouth and saying something really embarrassing. ]

Geez, even I'm not that bad. I just, like, get... competitive, or something? I dunno, I just turn into a daredevil and forget stuff hurts. More than usual, I mean. But you, there's no taking you anywhere.

[ Sure would love to see that, though. Happy, touchy Gladio... astrals, save him. He's too weak for this. He finishes off the last of the chips that'd gotten exploded across the table and then reaches over to nudge Gladio in the arm with his knuckles. ]

Better pace yourself, then, big guy. We're in public.

[ ha ha ha HELP HELP HELP ]

[indeferent]

_{[ this would be the part where his hair would stand on end if he had the mane he often sported while he was out of his gourd, but all he does is stare down at Law's hand against his arm. he can't tell if the touch lingered or not - ultimately it doesn't matter in the end because it gets a reaction either way. a flick of an ear, a hard swallow to go with the barely-there rumble in his chest, and Gladio nudges his hand back with an elbow before Law can properly begin to retreat. Har-dee-har-har. ]}

Yeah, well, I don't have a problem with a little PDA if that's what you're tryin' to get at.

_{[ spoiler alert: Gladio lives for it. little touches to the back, arms slung over shoulders, or even an entire body draped over the other person's back while they're doing something else? great. stealing little touches of affection right in broad daylight? perfection. ]}

'least people don't gotta worry 'bout me running off to one-v-one a Catoblepas just because someone bet me a hundred gold that I couldn't. Am I gonna have to babysit you too?

_{[ another joke because he knows Law can handle himself, and just for added measure he reaches out to grab one chip that Law had missed and... yep, flicks it right at his face. ]}

By the way? You can take me wherever you damn well please.

[counterattack]

What's a Catoblepas, some kinda big zeugle? I bet I could take it one-on-one.

[ he's kidding.......... but also, yeah, that is the exact kind of thing he would do. Hell, he doesn't have to be drunk to do something like that; he'd throw out a "bet I can take that thing" any time, any day, no alcohol required. Maybe a little less often after the events of the last few months—almost dying, actually dying, beating up a god wolf, Copalli almost being completely destroyed, trance, hatching a lot of chicken eggs and somehow surviving The Cluckening—he has at least a modicum of caution when it comes to taking risks that might gamble with his life, but for the most part? Nah, yeah, he's still reckless.

He just probably won't run out half-cocked and try to kill anything on his own today. Like, on his birthday. That'd be pretty messed up. But also fitting? Hmm.

Anyways, check these reflexes: he moves his head and catches that chip in his mouth right out of the air. CRONCH ]

I'm kidding. Nah, I'll be good.

[ He... might have been getting at PDA, yeah, maybe, if not in quite so many words. Instantaneously, Law's lizard brain immediately leaps to exactly all of the places he would be more than happy to take Gladio, drunk or otherwise, and he busies himself with pawing through the pile of junk food to find something new and interesting to snack on to distract himself from that bucket of fish. Listen, how is he supposed to rein it in when the opportunities to flirt are handed to him on a silver platter? The only thing stopping him is his own lack of experience, but that budding seed of confidence along with really growing into his looks is helping to overcome that real damn quick. He's half "high school heartthrob" and half "battle-hardened badass" and he wears it pretty well, if he does say so himself. (He doesn't. He doesn't say that himself. It would kill him to hear himself described that way.) ]

Heh... if we get kicked outta here for being too weird, we'll have to crash at the coterie, y'know. Not sure how much I'd trust a cab to get us anywhere in one piece at that point.

[indeferent]

It might step on you before you get the chance. One of those could keep a Behemoth fed, fat and happy for a week.

<sub>[ a Gladio-sized behemoth or an Actual Size Shown behemoth? the world may never know. what he does know is just how filling the meat is and he has a few moments where he's totally thinking about that brisket and what he'd have to do to find something like that here. ask the statue? go hunting for one? except surely they'd have seen one by now if they were here just like the Adamantoise lurking in the mountains. that's... one animal he's not going to fuck around and find out with. once was enough.

unless???

with Law distracted above the table, Gladio sticks his leg out and knocks his boot against an ankle. a distraction tactic? perhaps, because he's tearing off a little corner of his cake and lobbing it right at his mouth. ]</sub>

Too weird? You've got a tail as long as my arm and I've got two racks. I don't think we can get any weirder than we already are, touchy-feely or not. Buuuuut... If you really wanna sit around with my head in your lap in the lodge, by all means I ain't gonna stop you. Birthday boys make the rules and get all their wishes granted, after all.

_{[ after a few moments of watching Law rummage, he reaches in and lightly tosses another bag his way. Coeurls, Infernian style. were these the ones he warned him about? maybe, maybe not! he'll just have to find out on his own, wont he? it's a good distraction for Gladio too, because for as long as he's known Law he doesn't actually think he ever— ]}

Hn. Come to think of it what do you guys do for birthdays like this back home? Not just regular ones, but the big milestones. Sixteen, eighteen, thirty... anything special?

[counterattack]

[ Law's chin lifts quickly when Gladio nudges him, not immediately recognizing the gesture and thinking he's trying to get his attention, which works out great when there's a little piece of cake flying at his face. Just like the chip, he catches that in his mouth, too, but looks fully like Slow Motion Treat Photography Dog as he does it. Whatever dude, still counts if he catches it. ]

Ah—no, come on! You know what I meant! Besides, from the sound of it, you'd be the one putting your head in my lap, Mr. "Touchy".

[ by all fucking means. actually wait no don't, he can't even think about having to sit still and act normal with Gladio's head in his lap. That is a test of his strength that he will categorically fail, he's sure of it.

The question takes a little of the spice out of his rampantly hormonal thoughts, though to say it causes him any feelings of melancholy is stretching things a bit. Law catches the package, studying it for only as long as it takes to decide, yeah, he has no idea what to assume what the hell this is, then pops the bag open (without exploding it everywhere this time). ]

Well, uh... not that, I can tell you that much. Birthdays and celebrations in general are kinda weird where I come from, so we don't have that many traditions. You're just... lucky to make it to those ages at all, is the thing.

[ no. no downers. Law plucks out one of those skinny red looking snack things but doesn't pop it in his mouth just yet. ]

Where I was born, in Calaglia, we'd do something really special for people who turned sixteen, since that's when you could officially start being considered an adult. I wasn't around for that myself, but I celebrated some other people's birthdays like that. The whole village would save up all their food and we'd get together to eat and sing songs around the fire at night, so long as there weren't any guards around.

[ That's it. That's the "really special", just... save up all your food, eat, sing around a fire. It's stupidly simple, but he's gotten used to feeling that way when he talks to people from other worlds since arriving to this one. Despite living here for over a year now, he's said very little about his home to very few people just because of how keenly aware he is of the difference between how he grew up and how most of them did. In this case, though, it's a happy memory. He can't help feeling a little squeeze in his chest, thinking about his parents dancing with each other beside the fire during some of the other Crows' birthdays. Stupidly simple, but it was one of the happiest times of his life. ]

And in Cyslodia, where I was living when I turned sixteen, uh... haha...

[ okay, yeah, "no downers" isn't going to fly here if he keeps going. Law clenches the teeth at the back of his jaw when he smiles, forced and awkward.]

Let's just say... they do stuff there, but I didn't celebrate any of those birthdays myself, so I wouldn't really know. We're... kinda hard-up for fun on Dahna, sorry. What about in Eos? What's it like?

[ and there goes the hot coeurl. countdown until he loses his shit from the spice. ]

[indeferent]

_{[ of all the times to be in a world where his phone has been reduced to a fancy paperweight — pictures like that would surely score a few points with winning over the favor of Law's weirdly intimidating father. hell, were it not for the whole, uh... wolfman aspect this place has turned him into, he might've been able to see Clarus if he squinted really, really hard. what can he say? sometimes it pays to be in good with the parents of a friend. especially after letting said friend run himself ragged so soon after being mauled by wyverns. despite his own internal "turmoil", Gladio snorts and knocks his ankle again. ]}

You get my head in your lap and you better rub my damn ears.

<sub>[ is he serious? possibly. he's never quite worked up the nerve to actually ask for such a thing from anyone else beyond Noctis (mostly because one: how do you ask for that, and two: it always sort of happened naturally) so he isn't exactly sure himself. for the time being he files it away in the back of his mind and leans forward to prop his chin up on his hand while Law speaks, head tilted just ever so slightly. if it were possible, Gladio thinks he'd like to see Dahna for himself one of these days even in its current condition. not every realm sounds awful, and the ones that weren't might actually be... nice, he thinks.

but as Law speaks, Gladio starts to put it all together. Calaglians... saving everything up and breaking it all out for a sweet sixteen. his eyes drift to the heap of junk food for a moment and try as he might he just can't contain the quiet, knowing huff of laughter that slips through his nose. it damn near sounds like this with less people and more garbage that was actually Bad For You But Oh So Good. it sounds simple. easy. intimate, even with the entire village involved.

like one big family celebrating instead of a dozen and a half separate ones. ]</sub>

If I'm honest? It depends. Typically you'd have friends and maybe family involved with a party, cake, presents, things like that. Typically. Me, Noct 'n Iggy? We, uh... never really had much of that. Noct's royalty so those were always cranked up past eleven and my own family is pretty high up there too, but mine were never that overdone. I always preferred the ones I'd get to have with the guys or even back at my house with Jared and my sister over the dog-and-chocobo shows. Junk food just like this, pizza, and as much trashy TV or video games we could stomach.

_{[ give him a small, cozy party with the people he loves over having to dress up to the nines and pretend to be interested in people he didn't even know. his ear flicks again and Gladio tilts his head down to rub at the base of it for a few moments. ]}

Bunch of the guys I worked with kidnapped me for most of the day on my 18th and surprised me with all of this and a trip to the restaurant their friend owned.

_{[ glaives. not even once. okay. maybe two times. three. dozen. ]}

[counterattack]

[ If not for his party last year, Law wouldn't even be able to really imagine any of this. He hadn't had a cake, but he did get gifts and there was a party, like a real party with people and food and shenanigans. Even that had been humble, all of them crammed into his tiny Tikal house and the itty-bitty backyard. It's crazy to think how much things have changed, and yet they're still a million miles away from what Gladio and his friends are used to. He can't even be bitter about it; it's just wild.

You know what else is wild? The look in his eyes when that spicy cheetoh kicks in. Law sits up arrow-straight in his chair, hissing through his teeth in that ahhhohmygodsohothelpme way that does absolutely nothing to help the suffering he's enduring. ]

—Aaaahh!! Crap! Not this again!!

[ IT'S ALPHEN'S COOKING BUT CRUNCHIER. fuck you, he bolts up from his seat and runs to the bar yowling for some water. Poor Isabela is Highly Concerned, but she gets him a cup anyway, and Law skulks back trying to wash the taste out of his mouth, his face all red. ]

Why would you do that? You're as bad as Alphen, man... there's spicy, and then there's "eating actual fire."

[indeferent]

_{[ he can't help it, not really — the ugly snort and bark of laughter that slips out is mostly involuntary and when Law abandons the table to plead Isabela for help, Gladio reaches over to take a handful of the offending cheetos for himself. enough of them might get him sweating but a little bit like this? he'll be fine. he may not have Prompto's love for hot, spicy things but he can still appreciate a good kick when he feels one. ]}

You don't know "eating actual fire" until you've had legit Galahdian food, kid.

_{[ a beat, and he taps at the glass of water— ]}

Try milk next time, too. It's supposed to work better.

_{[ n-not that he'd know or anything. shut up. ]}

[counterattack]

I know about eating fire, believe me.

[ I mean....... haha, yeah, about that. He Alphen when he was a fire monster and scorched his mouth right before he got his jaws wrenched open and his neck broken and Alphen died from his wounds, so... like, yeah, he has eaten actual fire. But he means the spicy food. The "I can't feel anything so everyone else has to suffer" dinners that he trusted with his whole heart and was betrayed by.

Coughing, eyes water, Law chugs down that water and then searches for another bag of those harmless potato chips to wolf down, his tail whipping back and forth, more like an agitated cat than a canine. ]

I like spicy food, but there's such a thing as too much, y'know? That's screwed up, man. I'm gonna get you back so bad for this.

[indeferent]

You know you're not supposed to actually drink the fire when they light the shot up, right?

_{[ he's teasing, he's teasing. Gladio makes it known with a double boot knock against an ankle (and the chair) and a half-hearted "swat" to Law's hair, his lips pulled back in a full, partially-fangy grin. it's probably a good thing he hasn't wound up with a tail that lasted longer than a week, but if he had one? it would definitely be a hazard to the table behind him. at least his ears convey the message pretty well — alert, both perked slightly upwards and forward, but ultimately relaxed. ]}

It can't be seriously be that bad, can it?

[counterattack]

Huh? Wait, what? They light drinks on fire where you come from, too?

[ Well, that's a surprise. But the things that his world and other people's have in common often are, so by now he should probably have gotten used to it. Dahna and Rena are so different, with the only consistency between the two being whatever Renan bullshit they'd brought along with them when they took over and got cozy, so he'd always just assumed it would be the same for everywhere else. Funny little details like to pop up and catch him off guard, though.

As for whether it can be that bad, Law answers by capturing Gladio's calf where it keeps nudging him under the table, curling his leg around and hooking their ankles together. He might not understand how this particular type of flirting works, sorry. ]

In Cysloden, the guys always used to do "ice bombs." Super cold shot glasses full of white liquor that they'd light on fire. You'd just drop the whole thing in your mouth. You could always tell who was green by if they were dumb enough to try and drink the fire.

[ he tried to drink the fire.

To be fair, though, he never wanted to play those games in the first place. Even in the Snake Eyes, picking on the Dahnan tagalongs was a favorite pastime, and tormenting each other, backstabbing, and generally being kind of psychotic was, too. It was like a hazing that just never ended. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ he KICK Gladio? he kick his leg like football? oh! oh! jail for Law! jail for Law for One Thousand Years!!! only instead of jail Gladio simply cocks an eyebrow, huffs another quiet laugh, and leans into the hook. even without the flirtatious undertones this was... nice. really, really nice. how long has it been since he's actually had the chance to goof off with a friend?

too damn long, he thinks to himself. too. damn. long. ]</sub>

Yeah. We had a bunch of 'em but the ones I remember were called "Kiss of the Infernian" and things like that, but I don't think I knew anyone who tried to actually drink it. Definitely saw a couple people get their eyebrows singed off 'cause they stuck their faces too close to 'em when they were lit, though.

_{[ he was one of them. in his defense he was already pretty sloshed that night but still. that had been fun explaining to the others the next morning. ]}

They never did any of that in Calaglia? Just Cysloden?

[counterattack]

[ Just normal things to do with your homies: sit there with your ankles tangled, shoving chips and cheetohs in your face. Frankly, Law can't think of a better way to spend time on his birthday, all things considered. He never wanted much—he doesn't have it in him to know how to want very much, if he's being honest with himself. Just, y'know, to be happy. And not alone. Especially that last one.

Law shakes his head, ready to give the simple, uninformative answer. He can carry on a conversation about his life and life in general on Dahna without saying very much, a special skill you pick up when you spend a good chunk of your formative years having to watch every single syllable you utter. After he got here, it was just that self-consciousness, feeling like he needed to protect himself and his friends. Not having to answer for the circumstances of his life and choices was kind of liberating, in a... "feeling totally shut down" kind of way. ]

...I dunno. I ran away from home when I was ten, going on eleven. Back then, it wasn't possible to travel between realms, but I found a way to get out, and then... couldn't get back. I mean, I had myself totally convinced I didn't wanna go back, but... yeah. I was kinda too young to see that stuff. My dad might know, but we... haven't talked about it all that much. The stuff we both missed.

[ There, was that so hard? Look, it's not about it being "hard." It's just—it's complicated, alright? Still, Law doesn't have any issue meeting Gladio's eye, at least not once he gets a sentence or two in. ]

I haven't really had the chance to think about stuff like parties and birthdays until I got here, so it kinda all feels brand-new to me. I think I'm more like you, though. It's just good to spend it with people I care about. [ fuck ] As friends. With junk food. [ saved ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ the occasional jostle of their legs pauses when Law mentions his father and Gladio's expression softens. not talking about it much, huh? yeah, he gets that. he gets it. there were plenty of things he never talked to his own dad about too and if he had the chance to do it now...

Gladio pushes the thought down and brings his other foot in to "capture" Law's leg for a moment, then it starts to seek out his ankle but instead of hooking around it, he only touches. a quiet reassurance since he can't exactly lean his weight against Law's shoulder and all like he might've if they were somewhere else. he may get Extra Touchy when he's had a few drinks in him, but that's only because he's like that normally. ]</sub>

I get it. My dad... There were a lot of things we didn't... It was kinda awkward for us, I guess? But...

_{[ another bump, another nudge, and Gladio reaches across the table to mock punch-touch a section of ink on Law's arm. just because he's shit at expressing his own feelings doesn't mean he's shit at picking up on others. ]}

I'm glad you think so. It's nice, right? No expectations to perform for a wild party, you get to be yourself, and the people that really know you? They... they know how to make it special. It doesn't gotta be flashy or over the top to be memorable. And you don't gotta worry 'bout asking for something that might come off as weird in front of a bunch of strangers.

[counterattack]

[ Law smiles wanly as Gladio stumbles over his words. It's not the first time he's just gotten the sense that there's something Off about all that, like they're in the same boat. He'd rather not assume, and it's probably not great that he's always trying to see himself and Zephyr in his friends and their dads, comparing and contrasting their situations and relationships. In a way, it makes sense to do: shit's complicated, man, and he's trying to figure things out. That independent streak, remember.

Also what in the actual fuck are they doing with their legs? He doesn't know whether to kick him or play nice. Like is this flirting or play-fighting? (Spoilers, dude: it's both.) He settles for somewhere in the middle, nudging him with his other foot and then trying to capture and immobilize that ankle, too. At this rate, he's gonna slide right out of his chair. ]

Yeah, it's pretty good. My friends'll probably throw another little thing for me like before, but if they don't, I wouldn't be mad about it. Especially because I'm about to drink you under the table and never even make it back home in time for a party in the first place.

[ challenge accepted? yeah, just recall how fast he put away that first shot when they got here. it doesn't even touch him. Smirking, he reaches out and jabs Gladio in the arm right back. ]

Don't get all hot under the collar about that, now. It'll just make you sloppy.

[indeferent]

Someone's cocky.

_{[ Law can keep his one foot trapped for as long as he wants, but he's not going to make it easy for the second. each time he tries to trap him, he shuffles this way and that and every tap earns two in retaliation. really, it's a harmless game that almost reminds him of all those times he'd start "fights" with Noctis under the table at the Crows Nest when he'd get picky with his food or (more often than not) just to be a pain in his royal ass. it's fun and that's what matters. ]}

Whaddya say we make it more interesting? I win, I get that ear scratch I've been craving. You win, and you...

_{[ one brow goes up, silently questioning. name it. ]}

[counterattack]

[ Sure enough, Law slips right out of his seat wrestling around with his legs and has to catch himself on the edge of the table to keep from disappearing under it. Look, he may have gained a few inches, but not that many of them were in his legs, alright? He just got Elongated in general, not quite as much broadness to go along with it, but a little of that, too. Whatever, shut up. He pulls himself back up, daring Gladio to say some shit about it. ]

An ear scratch? That's it? You know I work with animals all day, right?

[ Well, sort of. He works with animals, oversees construction, fights monsters, does yoga, and has existential crises all day, but still. Ask any non-human creature with a head to pat around here and they'll tell ya: Law's the guy to go to for a good ear scratchin'. You can see the exact moment he realizes just how unrestricted his opportunity is here, though—it's when his face goes red, his lips parting ever so slightly as he takes in the look Gladio's wearing. Dude, you can't just look at him like that. It ain't right. ]

...Oh, uh. If I win, I—I want—

[ hjälp ]

Bragging rights.

[ wuss. ]

And a favor I can cash in on whenever I want.

[ better? maybe? ]

[indeferent]

Bragging rights?

_{[ ugh, such a Noct answer. he counters Law's little slide down with a quick tap to his calf as he scoots back up, and he very nearly almost has the urge to bring his leg up to drop it in Law's lap to be an even bigger pain. the table and size of the chairs prevent that though, that particular stunt being more suited to restaurant booths where he'd have a lot more leg room. since they don't have that kind of space, Gladio decides to flick one of the few remaining cheetos left in his hand right between the eyes. ]}

C'mon, you can do better than that. I know you can come up with something better than "bragging rights." You get the favor, but what else?

_{[ c h i c k e n. ]}

When I say anything, I mean anything. If it's in my power? You'll get it. Don't be a wuss—

[counterattack]

Don't say anything, then, geez!

[ He's being goaded. I mean, no shit, a blind person could see he's being goaded, he's not that dumb, but still. Part of him wonders what the hell he's stalling for, and the other still feels like he has to play it safe. His confidence where all this sort of thing is concerned is a budding bloom, in need of just a little water, just a bit of sunshine. Today could very well be the day those magnificent, incorrigible teenage dirtbag petals finally unfurl, and here he is talking about bragging rights.

Alright, let's assess this. How would someone cooler than him pull this off? Law racks his brains for some helpful advice, some example to draw from. What would, like, Alphen do in this situation? Or his da—no. Oh astrals. Never mind. Nope. No examples. He has to do this on his own.

Brow furrowing, he just goes for it. Kicks Gladio in the shin harder than he means to and leans his elbow on the table so he can look cool and casual, crushing a bunch of chips in the process with a noisy, muffled crunch. And he gets dinged right in the face with that cheetoh. Fantastic. So cool. What a badass. ]

Fine—ngh. Fine, if you lose, you're going out with me. On a date.

[ no. MORE AGGRESSIVE. ]

Not a friend date. A real one!

[ YEAH!! ]

[indeferent]

I'm just sayin' that bragging rights is pretty we— Ow!

<sub>[ the lesson here folks? don't poke the wolf with the proverbial stick when said wolf has enough power in one leg to kick the ass of a literal wolf-god the size of Deadeye. it doesn't actually hurt — not really — but it's enough to make him nearly pout as if he'd just been kicked by Iris in the past when the Amicitias would inevitably have petty "squabbles". one hand reaches under the table to soothe the dull ache in his shin while he flicks another cheeto and a half-grumble of brat.

y e p, this is normal. just another day ending in Y on Copalli.

his train of thought abruptly comes to a stop when Law goes and says that, but not for the reasons one might think. for a moment he looks like an Anak caught in headlights: brows and ears up, eyes wide, and his mouth partially open. then his expression shifts into a crooked half-grin of near disbelief. Thank the Six, he thinks. thank you, fuzzy ears. the thought isn't a bad one at all either. part of him was still curious about what went down on that first date with Prompto, but...

fuck it. this would be theirs, wouldn't it? no need for comparisons. ]</sub>

A favor and a date.

_{[ Gladio begins to offer his hand only to pull it up when he's halfway across— ]}

I get to touch your tail too if I win.

_{[ aaaaaaaaand back out it goes. ]}

[counterattack]

[ Finally. He's been holding that in for, what, six months? Maybe more? God—no, it's been closer to a year, almost. Gladio and the guys showed up right after Kiichpan got destroyed, and that was only a couple of months after his birthday if he recalls correctly, and... yeah, it was pretty much a "holy shit" at first sight with all of them. (...Almost all of them. Lose some weight, Noctis.)

Man. Nearly a year for him to finally crack. And what exactly did it take to get it to happen? Junk food. Not even the alcohol, because that one shot doesn't count for a thing and they haven't started drinking the other stuff yet. Law doesn't quite look surprised that Gladio agrees, but any amount of it that does show on his face is more at himself than anything. Like, dang, didn't know he had it in him. Prompto got the drop on him before, and everything had kind of fallen apart after that, so he never got the chance to try and make up for it, but maybe he is now, here, finally having a little confidence. Maybe he'll shoot his shot at Ignis next. Ha ha. (Help.) ]

What is it with you and my tail?

[ Lamely, but no less flushed with his feathers all ruffled, Law smacks his palm into Gladio's and gives his hand a very firm shake. Hey, at least he isn't all sweaty. When he went out with Prompto, he kept having to find ways to subtly wipe his hands off, his nerves were that bad. ]

Deal. But you're not gonna win, so you'll have to settle for the tail action in your dreams.

[ phrasing. that was on purpose though. he's trying to save face here. ]

[indeferent]

What? It's soft and I bet it'd feel nice.

<sub>[ not like Gladio would know, unfortunately. Behemoths sometimes had a thicker winter coat depending on what parts of the world they lived in, but Gladio wasn't one of them. whenever he changes he's lucky to wind up with something akin to a labrador's outside of his mane — enough to run ones fingers through, but not long enough to derive any genuine pleasure out of it like he would if someone were to play with his hair. surely it's bound to feel just as nice when it comes to tails, right? he's a giver.

once Law slips his hand into Gladio's, he resists the urge to pull him forward to plant a kiss to the top of his knuckles. the ball is in Law's court, not his. maybe on the actual date? but... hm. it's not going to stop him from swiping his thumb over the back of his hand once, though. that he allows himself to do. ]</sub>

Who's to say it's not already in 'em? They make me wonder...

_{[ wonder what? he refuses to elaborate and instead uses his free hand to twist off the top of the bottle and tilt it towards Law for a quick sniff. one thing is for certain — it's not the paint remover they call alcohol here. this was more sweet. almost with a hint of some sort of spice. Gladio couldn't say for sure what it was given parts of the label was in an old dialect he never learned, but he knew it was good and that's all anyone can ask for. ]}

Whaddya think? Yea or nay?

[counterattack]

Wonder wha—

[ If Law had those dog-ears he's overdue for, this would be when they'd prick up. The touch to his hand is one thing, but he can handle that. I mean, sheesh, he's at least held hands before. He's eighteen, not sixteen, man. A grown-up. An adult who can do adult things. (Technically, by Calaglian standards, he was a grown-up who could do grown-up things at sixteen, too, but who's counting, not him. He's not good at math, even.) It's the smell of what's in that bottle that instantly catches his attention. His senses are sharp, but none of that smells familiar to him at all. And yeah, it's not the straight gasoline Isabela's got on tap, that's for sure. ]

Oooh...

[ That smells like the kind of sweet that he likes: spicy-sweet. Cinnamon-sweet, like mango paleta con chile, which he will fucking lose his mind if anyone ever introduces to him. Grinning, he tightens his grip on Gladio's hand, then lets his fingers slip away. You're not getting his lips on your skin that easily, buddy. Give it a few shots first. ]

Yeah, I'm in. We doing this, or what?

[indeferent]

Hold your 'bos, birthday boy.

_{[ a half-snort of laughter and Gladio lets him pull his hand back so he can start pouring their shots, Law's first and his own second. the bottle goes in the middle of the table surrounded by that cozy, crinkly nest of bags, and then he's passing one glass across the table held between his thumb and middle finger. ]}

Savor the first one — you'll thank me for it.

_{[ but Gladio? naw, he's knocking half of his back already. he's missed this, okay? ]}