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

[counterattack]

Shut up, man!!

[ Law makes a face, but eventually he can't help but grin about it, too. The memory is hell and admitting to it is almost as embarrassing as when it happened, but how is he supposed to not think "cactus butt" is funny? He gives Gladio a slug in the arm, playful, but thankfully there's no real force to it. If Gladio's touchy when he drinks, then Law is punchy. Nothing he seems to enjoy more while he's drunk than companionable violence. ...Even more than when he's sober, that is. ]

Twelve. It was a really spiny cactus. I couldn't sit right for days. Y'know, the worst part was that my parents thought it was kinda funny, too. They didn't tease me and just kept telling me to be more careful, but looking back, they were totally holding in some laughter.

[ things zephyr is gonna get laid into about later if he can manage to remember this when he sees him... ]

Your turn. You feelin' a dare yet?

[indeferent]

Ten gil says they probably did the same thing. Or, well... Maybe not the exact same but still wound up with an ass full of cactus. A Cactass.

_{[ Huehuehue he's so bad he's good. At the punch he makes a half-hearted "swipe" to catch Law's hand and misses, but he lets it drop down onto the table with his fingers splayed out and slightly reaching in a silent invitation. If he wants it? He's there. Or he'll just wait until Law's in range again. He's a patient man. ]}

Gimme another truth. I dunno how much I trust you with a dare right now.

_{[ He's always teasing. Always. Just to make a point Gladio even goes as far as to hook their ankles together again. ]}

[counterattack]

[ Good thing he finishes that shot before "cactass," otherwise he'd have snorted it out his nose. That joke is certified garbage, but when you've had this much to drink, even garbage starts to look like top-shelf shit. Besides, he's never had a refined sense of humor in the first place. (Obviously, because every time Dohalim makes a joke he usually just thinks it's another weird poem or something.) ]

Probably wise. My dares are as dangerous as my truths.

[ Even in non-to the death truth-or-dare, yeah. Law's eye falls to Gladio's hand, splayed on the table, while he's thinking of the next deep cut of a question to ask him and finds himself a little distracted. After a moment, he places the tops of his pinched-together fingers in the center of Gladio's palm and lets them spread out from there until their hands are resting flat on top of each other, something he's always thought felt really, really ticklish, but also kind of good in a tingly way. After he left home, one of the friends he'd had before the Renans got them used to do that to him. They only had one pair of gloves between them, so they'd each wear one on opposite hands and try to keep the other person's sole bare hand warm some way or another.

It was just innocent kid stuff back then, but it hits a little bit different this time. ]

What's... the one thing you—no, wait. Never mind. Not that.

[ The one thing you regret the most. Nope, nope, can't go there. That's too deep even for ruthlessly brutal games of truth-or-dare. The second those words start to form on his tongue, all he hears in his head is Not telling others how much they meant to me before it was too late... that's the greatest mistake of my life.

Nope. ]

Uhhhh, haha... no, okay, here's a better one: what was your first date like? There's no way you were always this cool and confident. Everybody's awkward the first time, right? Don't spare any details.

[indeferent]

<sub>[ The response is automatic — his hand flattens against Gladio's, and his fingers entwine themselves with Law's. There's nothing weird about a couple people holding hands in public, right? No one else seems to give a damn or even notice, nor would they. His ears perk up for a moment in interest, then they settle back into a more relaxed position all while he stares down at their hands for a long minute or two. This is nice.

Really, really nice.

It's nice enough that he doesn't question the first thing Law says. It makes him tilt his head for a second, sure, but he doesn't press it. Gladio turns their hands a bit so he can get a better hold, but that's about all he does until he says first date. ]</sub>

It, uh...

_{[ Boy he hasn't thought about that one in a long, long time. ]}

It was pretty bad. Not the worst date I've ever been on, but it was up there. I was... fourteen? Fourteen-ish? Somewhere around there, but there was this girl in school that I liked. She was a couple years older than me, bit of a nerd, real cute, freckles 'n everything. It took me half a year to work up the nerve to ask her out 'n looking back on it I don't know why she said yes 'cept for maybe my name — I dunno — anyway, she made a comment about how she'd never seen chocobos, so I thought to myself "hey, my dad knows a guy who has a couple on a little ranch out in Northern Insom," got my dad to talk to the guy, and I was gonna surprise her with it, you know? I, er...

_{[ His ears droop down a little and his face twists into a half-smile, half-grimace. What was he thinking back then? He's not entirely sure looking back on it, but Law asked and it's the rules of the game so after a breath he keeps going. Even if he finds himself squeezing his hand once before he does. ]}

Think my first screw-up was I took her to the Crow's Nest for lunch instead of some ritzy place 'n she spent more time on her phone than anything. Then I wound up dragging her across the city for a good hour 'til we got to the farm and... she tells me she's allergic to the birds. Big time allergic. And scared shitless of them. I had zero idea 'cause she never said anything, you know? Even told her where we were goin' and everything, so, uh...

_{[ Bad with a capital B-A-D. Thank the six it had almost been time for her class to graduate so he never really saw her again outside of the hallway at school, but man it was pretty awkward for those last two months. ]}

I felt like shit for ages 'cause I didn't know. Fourteen-year old me thought it was somethin' fun and interesting to do versus the cliché dinner-and-a-movie everyone else always did, you know? Somethin' for her to remember and... I mean, I suppose it was something for her to remember, just not in a... good way.

[counterattack]

[ When their fingers twine together, Law can't help the pleasant little shiver that runs through him. It does feel nice. God, he just... has missed touch so much. He'd already been absolutely starved for it most of his life, but after the incident in Tikal, he'd pulled away from others in a big way. His father, his friends, everyone. It's... gotten better since then, since the relics were all finally sealed and he felt some of that sour, rotten energy inside of him find a place for itself when he'd gone through Trance, but nothing's ever really been the same. It toughened him up, and not entirely in a good way. He's more stronger, more serious, more independent, and even though he's popular in Copalli and gets on with pretty much everyone with that easygoing way about him, he's just kind of forgotten what it feels like to really make meaningful contact with somebody. Hugs and clasped hands are few and far between anymore, and he's just now realizing how much he's really needed it.

It's so distracting he almost forgets to listen at first.

But then he snaps out of it, his fingers curled loosely in Gladio's, and uses his free hands to popcorn.gif with the bugels as he tells his story. Big time allergic makes him snort loudly, and even if he can't help but laugh, it also makes him think how lucky he is that the same thing hasn't happened to him yet, what with his affinity for animals and all. ]

How the heck were you supposed to know, though?! She didn't say she never saw 'em because she was allergic! I can totally see you trying to go above and beyond, though, yeah. Next time, try a spiracorn. Bet you could pull that off.

[ DO NOT DO THAT!! But whatever, it worked out for Prince Charming riding in on his noble demonic steed. ]

I guess, like... you had to have those lame experiences to learn how to be such a smooth-talker later, huh?

[indeferent]

<sub>[ Another laugh from Gladio and he shakes his head, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a smile. Again with the spiracorns? He'll never understand how he can be so calm around them, but then again Gladio had been on one too many hunts involving the animals. Too many stories about how a hunter got careless and wound up with a pair of hooves to the head and even taking one point-blank to his shield (which probably would've required a phoenix down if he didn't have it up in time). Nah, he'd rather appreciate the wildlife rather than mess with it unless it was actually, y'know, required. He wouldn't leave an injured Coeurl on its own if there was a chance to get it help, and the same would go for the murder-horses.

No matter how much they'd want to eat his face. ]</sub>

Maybe I should've asked for a stuffed one just for you. I still can't believe you ride 'em like it's nothing.

_{[ But now he knows what to get next time! So that's something! ]}

I'd say confidence plays a part in it too, not just shitty experiences. Eventually you'll figure out what works and what doesn't, and then you just go from there. Hell, it took me awhile to figure out most of the girls I'd wind up going out with were only in it 'cause of my name and my looks. The ones that weren't only after that... They never liked knowing that they'd always be second in my life, so it was usually broken off. Or they wanted to try and get close to Noct which, uh. Wasn't happening on my watch.

_{[ It's one thing to try and flirt with someone on their own but using him to do it? Fuck that noise. It's tacky, cheap, and downright rude. ]}

Can't say it's all that bad though at the end of the day. Sometimes I met a couple people who were more than happy to be friends with or without benefits. People who didn't give a damn 'bout any of it. Those were the good ones.

[counterattack]

[ Shrug. Demon unicorn monster pony horses love him, yolo69swag420blazeit. ]

...Wait, people would use you? To get to him? How?? Why?!

[ yeah yeah because he's royalty and whatever but still, what the actual fuck. He's not supposed to smack talk Noctis, but first of all, he's drunk and second of all, the very idea of thinking that Noctis is a trade up from Gladio is unfathomable. Law's incredulity is really over-animated, eyes wide and mouth open, positively hornswoggled. That's like... that's like... he can't even think of an example. Using Alphen to get to him is the closest he can think of, and even that seems to miss the sheer gravity of the "that is not a step up, dude" scale at play here. ]

No friggin' way. What's wrong with people where you come from?! I get he's important and all that, but you're... and he's so... blegh. I can't get my head around that, sorry. You deserve better than that! Ignis and Prompto, too. I always thought you were criminally underappreciated, and this just proves it.

[ Law stop talking. Law start drinking. Screw it, he's swigging straight from the bottle now. ]

[indeferent]

Power, status... All that typical boring political shit that comes with the territory.

_{[ Frankly it's disgusting and Gladio can't keep the scowl off his face. If there was one thing he could nix out of the whole nobility thing, it'd be that. Things can be hard enough with the weight of the crown and everything else going on in the world, so why add more stress onto it like that? He never, ever understood it. ]}

Thing is, they never stood a chance with him. He's an even bigger nerd than I am, 'specially if you get him somewhere he can start fishi...

_{[ Wait. Wait. Hang on. Pump the brakes, there. Gladio trails off and stares at Law for a good, long while, doing his best impression of a Confused Dog. Did he just-? He just heard him right, right? That's??? å ]}

Huh? Whaddya mean? Criminally underappreciated?

_{[ Gladio. Gladio, open your ears, you're drunk. Listen to him. ]}

[counterattack]

N-Nothing! It's nothing!

[ Good going, IDIOT. You can't just say that stuff to him!! He'll never, for the life of him, truly understand why, but Gladio and the guys really care about Noctis a lot. It'd be the same as if someone who isn't particularly keen on Alphen started trash-talking him. Entitled to their opinion, but you don't just do that to the guy's best friend unless you want to make waves and have words.

But see, though, it's not really about ragging on Noctis, it's the other thing, isn't it? The thing where it's like none of the three of them even realize how amazing they are, and that's because their stupid dumb friend that they live and breathe for doesn't tell them so. Law clams up and he's really starting to nervous sweat when, after a moment's thought, his brow furrows and he has a change of heart. A really sudden change of heart. Thanks, Nine Shot Plus Whatever He Just Drank From The Bottle Law. ]

No, you know what? It's not nothing. I know Noct's, like, really important to you and all that, and I'm not tryna put him down or anything, [ yes he is ] but he doesn't treat you like you deserve. You guys practically do everything for him, and I've never even once heard him say "thank you"! And you all just put up with it like everything's fine!

[ oh god, here it goes. Now he's on the righteous and very drunk road to the place of no return. Turning himself fully in Gladio's direction, he grips his hand tighter and gesticulates wildly with the other hand for BIG EMPHASIS. ]

Gladio, you're one of the coolest, toughest, strongest guys I know. You work so hard and you look out for everybody, and even for a rich lord's knight that had all these privileges growing up 'n stuff, you're totally down-to-earth. You've got so much worth outside of jus' being a Shield, and if that fat lard isn't gonna tell you, then somebody should, so I guess it'll just have to be me!

[ ................ aw crap. ]

I-I mean—

[ no you know what?? fuck it. ]

No, yeah, I said what I said! He's lazy and fat. You're better than he is. And hotter. You're amazing.

[indeferent]

Hey— Hey—

<sub>[ There's no point in trying to get a word of defense in, not once Law kicks himself into gear and starts going. All Gladio can do is listen, and when he feels that grip on his hand tighten he brings his free hand in to gently cover the back of Law's. It's awkward going for sure but it lets him bring their hands up, lets him lean forward, and allows him to brush his lips against the back of one of his fingers after he finishes. He tries to ignore the twisting warmth in his guts, but he can't ignore the way his chest tightens with the same heat.

He won't ignore it. So what if part if it is brought on by the booze? It's sweet. It's... frankly, he can't recall a time someone actually spoke to him like this outside of his immediate circle or family. If they ever did to begin with. Any other day he might rise up to take the "bait" and argue with as much fervor in Noct's defense, but not today. Not right now. Gladio can and will defend him of course — as a friend and not a Shield — but he's not going to raise his hackles or grumble about it like an ornery beast. ]</sub>

He says it in his own way, I promise.

<sub>[ Softly, and barely a murmur against Law's fingers. Despite how quiet his tone is he sounds so damned confident and sure about it that he may as well be reciting some sort of rule.

Five seconds. Ten. Twenty. A full thirty, and Gladio's gaze lifts to meet Law's. Of all the times for a damned table to be in the way — Six, he can be patient. They're both on thin ice, waiting to see who makes the first step. Waiting to see who makes that leap to the other side. Waiting for... what, exactly? He isn't a hundred percent sure if only because he can't recall a time he's been in this position before because most of the time he's the one saying shit like that to other people.

It's never been the other way around, and... he can't find the words. So, he improvises. Another murmur against skin— ]</sub>

...Truth or dare?

[counterattack]

[ All worked up, hot under the collar (in probably more ways than one by now), all Law wants to do is bang his fist on the table and shout, No! That's not good enough! It doesn't matter if it's not his place, if he doesn't know the whole picture, or if it'll make him look bad. Nobody ever got respect by asking nicely for it, and he feels very passionately about this particular subject. Just like the other feelings he's kept under wraps for nearly a year, he's been carrying this one around for a long time, too. His nose wrinkles, winding up for the pitch—but then he bubbles down to a low simmer, the edge of his sudden-onset quick temper subdued by that one little kiss to the hand.

Well. This is a surprise. He's usually such a happy drunk, sheesh. It's kind of embarrassing how quickly he mellows out, but on the upside, at least he doesn't have to worry about blushing; his cheeks are already hot from the outburst, his face flushed pink from the alcohol. The subject's gone, sort of, but not forgotten. In place of that, the piercing stare between the two of them is like a laser ray, charged with all kinds of energy, all of it intense. Law doesn't realize his shoulders are heaving just a little until they're both quiet, staring, Gladio's lips against the backs of his fingers.

He lets all the air out of his lungs and it calms him, but it doesn't do anything to scatter that static charge building in the pit of his chest. Nobody's ever looked at him like that before, and you can pet your bottom gald he's not breaking that gaze, not for anything. Where he'd been shouting just a moment ago, he answers softly now, his voice low and rough, like that wolf-monster inside of him is growling from within. ]

Dare.

[indeferent]

Say it again.

<sub>[ Not all that stuff about Noct, obviously. The look in his eyes says it loud and clear: Tell me again. Tell me that you meant it. Somewhere deep inside of him that behemoth side is practically purring, all stretched out and soaking up the positive affirmations. Part of Gladio is too, but that's also just Gladio — such a colossal sucker for love and affection that he spends hours upon hours sticking his nose in books centered around it no matter how corny it is. His death may not belong to him but his life?

That's all Gladio's.

It's Gladio's, and he's making the most of it. Turning his head a bit, he gently untangles their hands and moves to press his cheek into Law's palm. Covers his hand with his own larger one. Counts back from three. ]</sub>

Show me.

_{[ Confidence. But he doesn't run away with the ball, oh no. No, he holds the ball and places it right back in Law's court in a silent, teasing challenge. There's a time and a place to shove his way through a door half-open, but not this time. Law? He's different. He's special. He's offering something new and thrilling and if this is just a taste— ]}

Show me and promise me I get to take you on that date.

_{[ Then he can't fucking wait. ]}

[counterattack]

[ Law takes another breath, in and out. It comes a little harsher than he expects it to, a singular pant, too quick, too unsteady to be steeling. Maybe that's to be expected when he's this intensely intoxicated—maybe grounding techniques just don't work that well when your head's all juiced up and your judgment is too impaired to keep a handle on your big, fat mouth or your big, fat feelings. He's used to being constantly caught on the back foot when it comes to Gladio, or quite honestly when it comes to anyone he feels anything toward at all, but what he always has to contend with during those occasions is nervousness. Plain old-fashioned shyness, self-doubt and shaky confidence creating a toxic alchemy with inexperience, resulting in a hot mess of a little wuss that doesn't take the risks he knows he should take.

Right now, he doesn't feel nervous at all. Definitely not shy. It's a different kind of anxiousness messing with his head now, but he can handle this one. It feels the same as squaring up for a fight or getting everything together to cook a meal—that I'm going to do this and succeed hit of dopamine that makes you feel like you've won before you've even started. Not a matter of if, just a matter of when. Even if this overwhelming eye contact, the physical contact, the implications that are so overt by now that they're basically spelled out for him, do totally unseat him by virtue of being just, like, way too hot, he can work with that.

His lips quirk, fingers flat against Gladio's cheek. ]

You're 'mazing, Gladio. You deserve to feel like you are. What I really wan' for my birthday is for you to know that.

[ Yeah, now he's slurring his words just a little bit. Which is fine, because he almost feels like his voice doesn't even sound like his own. Since when has he ever sounded so... steady? You know what's not steady, though? The rest of him. When he scoots forward in his chair, he practically falls into Gladio's lap—it takes one arm on his shoulder and his knees against the side of his chair again to keep his balance. He'd wanted to do it kinda, y'know, smoother and more slow and suave and whatever, but that's fine. This works. He can roll with it. He can roll with anything right now.

They're so close—so close. But he didn't get that close this time just to kiss him, as much as he really, really wants to. ]

I'll show you, but not here. I don't wanna hafta pull away until I'm sure you got the message. And... by the way, no. You're not taking me on a date.

[ Can he at least... yeah, he can back up a little bit without falling all over the place. That he can do. He gets his legs underneath him and his feet on the floor, and by all that's holy, he can stand upright, just fine and dandy. He tugs at Gladio's chin with his thumb and forefinger as he goes. ]

I'm taking you out.

[indeferent]

<sub>[ Those fingers may as well be hooked into an invisible collar around his throat with how easily Gladio's head tilts up with the motion, eyes half-lidded yet still focused. It all comes back to touch and between how close Law is and both hands on his face it's really no wonder that the taller man melts into it. He actually has to look up from his position which so rarely happens—sometimes he gets someone in his lap where he has to, but normally... Not so much.

And... maybe he does it to support Law. Maybe he does it just because he can or because he wants to, but whatever his reasons for it, Gladio reaches to make sure he's steady once more. Not with a touch to the arm this time, though. He tests the waters, letting his hand hover over his flank before settling it over coarse fabric and the heat of a body. The nice thing about this is the bond they already share makes it easier to communicate without words. A silent "Is this okay" in the subtle press of his fingertips, a wordless "Please" in his eyes, all of it.

Gladio thinks he's thinking to himself but in reality? He's not. He's speaking before he even realizes it, his voice soft and maybe a little bewildered. ]</sub>

Shiva's tits, kid... How have you not been snatched up by someone?

<sub>[ Why did Prompto stop whatever he had with him? Even from a strictly platonic point of view he doesn't get it, and he especially doesn't get it from the good ol' F-W-B one. That's not even taking into consideration the romantic side of things. Tilting his head in Law's hold to inch his fingers that much closer to his ear, Gladio exhales through his nose and shuts his eyes. He's so glad he gave up the game when he did. If he didn't, he might not've been able to enjoy this.

He opens them, his smile growing relaxed. Content. ]</sub>

...Gotta say I feel like a very lucky man right about now. Probably the luckiest in Copalli. How many people can say they've got a badass firecracker who can bust rocks open callin' 'em amazing?

[counterattack]

[ A wave of gratification runs through him, thanks both to the compliments and to the hand on his lower back. He already runs hot as a damn furnace most of the time, but with all he's had to drink making his blood turn into highly flammable gasoline and the gauntlet of emotions he's experiencing? Whew. All his waning common sense is begging him to just melt like a puddle into Gladio's arms, but he stands firm, surprisingly steady on his feet, in his gaze, and in his voice. The easy grin that spreads across his face is wolfish and maybe just a little bit... dare I say... cocky? Oh, gurl, he's feeling it now. ]

Just you.

[ God!! Who is he? He won't recognize this charmer in the mirror even a handful of hours from now, but right now, he's never been more self-assured. Of course the alcohol is to blame, and it's really lucky he has a distraction so he doesn't drink any more of it, otherwise there's a very high likelihood that he'll go from swag to puking everywhere (to be fair, the more it all has time to hit him, the more possible it'll be for that to happen anyway), but it's also just amazing where a little validation will take him. Clearly, it'll go straight to his head.

But so do a lot of things. God. The look Gladio's giving him is introducing a wave of thoughts so inappropriate, it's all he can do not to bite his lip. Actually, scratch that, that's exactly what he does. This would ordinarily be where he'd chuckle nervously and wave it off, try to break the tension somehow, but all this liquid courage has him thinking, what if... what if he doesn't break it? Maybe he doesn't wanna break it. Maybe he wants to see how far he can go. He wants to get even closer. He wants to taste the sweet spice of liquor not from the bottle, but from Gladio's lips. He wants to touch more than just his face.

His gaze darts away, toward the door, then back again a second later. Right now, anything and everything feels totally possible. Including the reality where he doesn't completely screw this up or make a total fool of himself. ]

You wanna go? Right now? We could... find a room at the coterie, and... y'know. Talk about how amazing you are s'more.

[ verbal air quotes around "talk." ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ Their loss is most definitely Gladio's unexpected gain. He's had a few people come onto him before in the past but never quite like this. Never commanding his attention like Law seems to manage, any and all awkwardness working like a carefully-placed lure. If this is what it feels like to be on the other side of all those dumb jokes and corny pickup lines then he really was missing out. There's a moment where he processes what Law says and then he laughs, desperately wishing he didn't have these six-damned horns in the way so he could tuck his forehead against his chest.

Touchy-Gladio, foiled by his own problematic anatomy once again.

He can improvise though. Oh, he can very much improvise and the cogs of his brain are already turning as he follows Law's eyes. The door. Back to himself. His own return to the door, then to the mess on the table, and back to Law. The subtle bite of his lip makes his mouth go dry for a long few seconds, given away only by the more insistent press of his fingertips across the back of his hips. This guy... He knows what he's doing to him, doesn't he? Or maybe not - in any case it pulls forth a low rumble from deep within his chest and Gladio's head tilts back, throat baring just slightly. ]</sub>

Truth. Yeah. Yeah, I kinda do.

_{[ The only problem? Gladio doesn't want to lose the feeling of Law's fingers scratching just ever-so-faintly at the edges of his beard. He doesn't want to pull away from the gentle heat radiating from his palms, and he doesn't want to break the heated stare he finds himself faced with. Liquor talking or no, he's smitten. Absolutely befuckled and smitten and man maybe Law isn't the only one who caught something now that he thinks about it. With Gladio those things have always sort of crept up on him until the day reality and his heart grab him by the throat and shove his nose right into it as if saying "You're really in it now, big guy." ]}

Mhm... Scratch that. I definitely do.

_{[ Even if they only wind up falling asleep on one another, it'll be fine. He just... It's not often Gladio lets himself indulge for himself, not when he tries to put everyone else first. Law holds the reins, and he's all too willing and happy to let him see where he brings him. With some (a lot) of reluctance, he starts to grope at the backpack and their trove of junk food with one hand and starts to clumsily shove it all back inside. The bottle? Oh, that's obviously coming too. Whatever they didn't finish here can be saved for another day. ]}

Y'got one in mind? Or jus' whatever one we can grab?

[counterattack]

[ Is this... actually working? Law can hardly believe his eyes and ears. It's not exactly a shot in the dark when he's being given all the fuel for the fire he could possibly need: verbal encouragement, physical encouragement, liquid encouragement, and a sudden, violent case of the yolos. Everybody kept telling him he should stop being a ween and just go for—shoot your shot, just ask, what's the worst that can happen? But that'd always sounded easy for all of those people to say, what with all their worldly experience, charisma, and good looks and all. Up until now, Law's never really felt like he's had any of that to draw on. Now, at the very least, he's lost the crippling handicap of caring whether he does or not. Maybe short, stupid losers who've done bad things in their life and won't ever amount to much can have a shot, too. Miracles really do happen.

That excitement is riveting, and try as he might to keep his cool, he just can't do it. Law's eyes light up, grinning and giddy, the energy thrumming through him just as tangible as the kind he gathers up to break shit with. It feels like he could shatter anything without even breaking a sweat. It feels like he could do anything. ]

Just any one. Doesn't matter. It's usually pretty empty at the Eagles' place since they're mostly out scouting all the time, so...

[ At this stage, he's not sure if he's running on hormones, feelings, or what. Maybe both. Definitely both. A lot of both. Mentally, he can't even begin to reconcile how long he's kept this all inside with how surely he's getting his chance. Trying to comprehend how he feels seems completely insurmountable as a task when he's this woozy, but operating on his body's desperate plea for contact—that's easy to do. Maybe he's a touchy drunk, too. Who would've thought.

As Gladio packs up their pile of contraband, Law lets his hand drop from his jaw and instead delves into his pocket to find a few gold pieces to leave for their first round of drinks, along with a tip he doesn't bother to count out. He's not as unfathomably rich as he was before Tikal's fall, since mysteriously a big chunk of his stash just vanished, either stolen or something else, but he couldn't care less about all that right now. The coins clatter onto the table in place of the snacks, and when he goes to make his way around his chair and push it in, he finds himself thankfully not too wobbly. Not so wobbly that he can't conduct himself like someone who knows what they're doing, or too wobbly to sidle up next to Gladio once he's finished and standing and really push his luck by getting a hand around his back, one thumb hooked into the beltloop of his pants.

Truth be told, he has no idea, the effect he's having on Gladio. He's too focused on the effect he's having on him. The same effect he's always had, and for once, he actually gets to do something about it. ]

C'mon, I gotcha. Told you I can hold my drinks.

[ Technically yes, but also, no. There might be some moral quandary to consider about whether under the influence is the best time to make your move, but frankly, he'll take what he can get. It sure feels like a win. Who cares about the rest? ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ Law hooks into his belt and Gladio automatically throws an arm across his shoulders. If he pulls him in that much closer than he usually does, he's not going to mention it. Not while they're both running high on the thrill of what they're doing—what they might do. That, and once again it's just straight up thrilling and nice to see someone take what they want, you know? He really, really doesn't get to see that often and it's not quite the same with the guys and the years-old familiarity they've already got between them.

Aaaaaaand if the extra closeness means Gladio can duck down that much easier to plant a short kiss to the top of Law's head, then he's taking it while he's got the chance. At least this way his horns won't get in the way of what he wants to do now. ]</sub>

S'cause you're used to gasoline. M'pretty sure that could strip paint off the Regalia.

<sub>[ His arm tightens for a moment, hand wandering until his fingers manage to dip under the collar to Law's shirt. He doesn't move them beyond his clavicle out in the streets but Gladio keeps sweeping the pads across a small scar he finds regardless. If anyone sends an odd look or two their way? Hell with 'em. (It's not even because of that, it's just the extra parts from the mist.) It's easy enough to keep his hand there while keeping step with Law, doubly so with the extra handhold at his waist. Law goes one way? You bet Gladio's going right along with him hip-first. Down one street, up another, past a bridge here and under a canopy of colorful banners with merchants hawking their wares for the week, it doesn't matter - he's there, and so is the look of admiration (adoration?) he keeps sending his way.

Law's got him. He always has since day one, hasn't he? Helping them all get acclimated, feeding them, lending a sympathetic ear regarding the more, ahem, physical changes brought on, everything. The longer he thinks about it, the closer he plasters himself until Gladio may as well be leaning on him. Not entirely, just... Just a little. He's still steady enough to hold his own weight, honestly. He's just after the closeness. ]</sub>

You... ever imagine it'd happen like this?

[counterattack]

[ It's honestly a miracle he can support Gladio at all, but fortunately for the both of them and their vertical integrity, he isn't supporting him so much as they're both just walking stupidly, bumping into each other and taking up too much space on the road. For as wild as this is, it also seems so... casual. Maybe too casual, all things considered, but when he tries to think about how he would've expected things to go otherwise, he can't really come up with an answer. Maybe because he'd have expected this to all blow up in his face, or not happen at all, ever. Hard to use your imagination when you don't really have a baseline.

Even the walk to the coterie building is a learning experience. If Gladio can be so casual about touching him, why can't he? Each time his fingers sweep across his clavicle his whole body breaks out in a fresh wave of goosebumps, and that anxious, eager energy just builds and builds, collected static electricity, a metaphorical held breath. It isn't quite the skin-on-skin contact he's eager for, but you know what? He's just gonna Go There and let that hand at his back drift just a little lower. And then just a little lower. Doesn't take more than that to have his hand just fully, casually, resting on his ass.

And then he has to carry on a casual conversation after he's done it, too. Casually. ]

Honestly? I never imagined it'd happen in general. Like this or at all, I'm just happy it's happening.

[ There's no way he's going to be this good with his words later. But who cares about later. They round the corner and head up the steps into the Eagles headquarters, by that point almost fully wedged under Gladio's arm and against his side, his cheek against his shoulder. To the Eagle manning the entrance, they probably look the same as everybody else coming in from a day-drinking session at Viento: like a couple of drunk idiots that either need a room to crash or hook up. Which, astutely enough, is exactly what they are.

Any of the rooms on the first floor except the last on the left are open, they say with a little smirk, one that ordinarily would mortify Law beyond comprehension, but now he returns in kind. Whatever, no judgment. The outlanders are heroes in Copalli now, treated like VIPs, just like the leads had been for all those years. Now they're gone, and everybody just has to hope that history isn't going to repeat itself someday, but in the meantime, you're as good as gold so long as you've got a medallion around your neck. ]

Hehe... thanks.

[ Why make things difficult for them? The first open doorway they reach, that's the one Law steers them into, bumping it open with his hip and stumbling into the room. The... thankfully actually empty room. He's barely cleared the entryway when he turns under Gladio's arm, peering up at him with only a handful of inches fewer to work with in height, as opposed to nearly the entire foot shorter he'd been when they met. ]

Did you ever imagine it? Happening like this, or... at all?

[indeferent]

_{[ Why indeed? The instant the door shuts behind them and Law turns to face him, Gladio makes his move. One smooth, practiced motion of ducking down to hook his hands under the back of Law's thighs, and one more to haul him up with a subtle nudge to get him to loop his legs around his waist. Nobody can really blame him for it, not when it's such an easy thing to do. Plus this way it's easier for the Shield to nose at the curve of Law's jaw and look up at him with that same wonder in his eyes. The physical contact, the closeness, and the invisible walls in their way all but knocked down. There were still some things bound to come up but for now Gladio was all too content to enjoy this. ]}

Thought about it once or twice after Blondie nabbed you. I...

<sub>[ Gladio angles his head so he doesn't accidentally clock him with his horns, breath warm and beard skirting over skin. How many times did he imagine this? He's not completely sure if he's honest with himself. He doesn't know how much of it stemmed from envy nor how much was from his own wants. All he does know is he's got the opportunity now, and he'll be damned if he doesn't take it. Even if he'll have to look the Eagles outside in the eye later with the full knowledge that they know what happened.

He may be an idiot when it comes to the people he cherishes, but he's not blind. ]</sub>

I didn't wanna stick my nose too far into his business. Or yours. Then shit started going south with the relics 'n... The time never felt right. You never wanna make someone worry when you're about to head into somethin' dangerous, right?

<sub>[ Astrals know there was enough of that in Gladio's life already. Even if death wasn't permanent he never wanted to see someone actually eat it, least of all Law and the guys. Or, he thinks to himself, letting them see me go. That particular instance had been something of a recurring nightmare after Tikal had gone under and the mist swept over the land. How many times did he wake up in a cold sweat and his heart pounding in his ears because he'd thought Noctis hadn't recognized him and killed him instead, only to realize at the last second that that beast had been Gladio? The look in fake-Noct's eyes was already too much to bear. The real thing would've destroyed him.

Gladio huffs and shakes his head to rid himself of the thought before it threatened to sour the mood, and rather than dwell on it he dips his head to press a clumsy kiss to Law's jaw. And another, one after the other until he threatens to catch his mouth— ]</sub>

Plus between you 'n me? I'm pretty stupid when it comes to realizing there's somethin' there between me 'n another person when I actually know 'em. S'completely different with strangers.

_{[ Which means at some point things with Law shifted from Just Friends to Something More. It just took him ages to figure it out. Still, better to take a couple months than almost an entire decade! If he had a nickel for every time that happened he'd have three nickels, which is just plain sad that it happened more than once. even sadder if it was twice. ]}

But... to answer the rest of it? I dunno if I imagined it happening like this 'xactly. It's definitely not a bad way to spend a birthday though, huh?

[counterattack]

[ You'd think this would be a terrible, terrible idea when they're both totally sloshed, but this is one occasion where they can both most assuredly rest on raw strength and call it a day. Gladio picks him up like he's nothing and Law can hang on like it's nothing, his legs hooked behind Gladio's back at the ankle and squeezing with his thighs so that, at first, he's completely look ma, no handsing it. Those are some capable legs, boyo.

There are a few things he'd do differently if he were more put-together. Take off his medallion so no one has the opportunity to check in on him during his birthday and hear something they shouldn't, for one thing. He'd probably be more starstruck, too. Slower to react, which might sound like hesitation but if he's really taking the time to appreciate this whole experience, is it really such a bad thing? Other than that, he can't imagine how it'd be different, still. Gladio's breath on his skin, the brush of his lips, the rumble of his voice, lights a fire in him like he's never felt, and that just makes it difficult to think of anything at all. Already a little breathless when they're hovering that close together, he nods mutely, really taking in that feeling. That hunger. ]

With you? That's a great way to spend a birthday.

[ Sorry in advance to anyone he was supposed to meet up with today. He might be a little late to the party.

Law is a grab life by the horns kinda guy, so is it any wonder that, when he has the opportunity to decide what to do with his hands, he goes for the most literal option? He uses those handlebars to leverage them closer, pressing their mouths together with urgent insistence. Unlike at the bar, he doesn't hold back, and he doesn't pull away the moment he's actually starting to get a taste for it. No, his lips part to taste it more, gasping for breath only when he really needs it. Eventually, he relinquishes one of those horns to card his hand through Gladio's hair, his fingers curling behind one of those ears and pressing to his scalp, dragging down the side of his neck, trailing down his throat. It doesn't really matter where he touches, just so long as, before this is over, he can feel satisfied that he's touched everywhere.

Booze or no booze, birthday or no birthday, big stupid crush or not, he's so starved for touch, for being able to feel something after he died and came back, that he'd do this same thing no matter what. ]

[indeferent]

<sub>[ The feeling of fingernails scratching against the edge of his horn elicits a low rumble, not to mention the pull — it shouldn't feel as pleasurable as it does considering they're rooted into his skull, but then again maybe that's why. The extra nerves — particularly the ones that sit at the base — turn that rumble into a steady purr that definitely isn't made by an ordinary human being but it is what it is. They've both changed and rather than fight it, sometimes it's easier to roll with it. At least he hasn't changed completely. Somehow this is less awkward, he thinks? It's weird. All thoughts about it leave his head when those same fingers start threading through his hair and around his ear, making him cock his head with an even deeper noise low in his throat.

He wasn't kidding when he was asking for a good ear scratch and even though it's brief, it's perfect.

While Law busies himself with his throat and ears, Gladio surges his hips up both to rile him up and to get a better grip on his legs. One hand abandons his thigh to slip up the back of his shirt, fingers splaying out over his spine and teasing at the mess of scars he's seen there, too, and to just. Touch. He's seen what Law can do — he knows the power that lives in this body and the strength — and knows full well that he could very much knock Gladio flat on his back if he really wanted to.

A particular sharp nip earns one right back followed by a breathless laugh, his head ducking down to press their foreheads together between breaths. ]</sub>

You can, by the way.

_{[ He moves to graze a canine over the shell of an ear, lips pulling back in a roguish grin— ]}

Leave your mark, I mean. If anyone has a problem I'll tell 'em where they can shove it.

_{[ And he moves back for another kiss. The thing about Gladio? He gives as good as he gets, and by gods he's getting good. As if to encourage him, Gladio presses the blunt edges of his nails into his spine and moves his hand up, stopping at the middle of his back, and they fan out to go back down. Not hard enough to leave what he calls Sahagin Scratches, but just enough to let Law feel it. ]}

[counterattack]

[ Friction. God, he wasn't ready for what that would feel like. It's only for a moment, the incidental brush of their bodies as they move closer together while Gladio adjusts his grip, but Law's breaths stutter, thighs squeezing tight on either side of him, fingers digging into his clavicle and the crest of his shoulder.

This would probably be where he'd start acting stupid, ordinarily. Make some stupid comment about how he's never done this before or something that really doesn't need to be said. Why ruin it? Why embarrass himself? It'll either be obvious he's inexperienced or it won't, and he just doesn't want to think. He'd much rather feel. More of that—more of everything. Whatever brief look of reproach happened to be in his eyes when their foreheads touch, it's gone again a moment later. His lips brush against Gladio's jaw, letting himself figure out where to go by touch alone. ]

I don't wanna hurt you.

[ Probably the wrong answer, but when he thinks mark, he thinks bite, and he's done enough of that to his friends and loved ones as it is. Please, teach him about hickeys. Or let him figure it out on his own. Maybe he'll get it—he'll definitely get it. His lips part when they kiss again, tongue running along the seam of Gladio's, and he doesn't seem to have any issue with sucking a little swell into his bottom lip, just enough to probably leave it throbbing a little where the blood's pooled there.

His fingers work their way down the back of Gladio's neck, arms draped around his shoulders. He's not even bothering to use them to hang on, it's all his core muscles at work and whatever support he's got from Gladio keeping him in place. When he realizes he's finally, finally getting to put his hands on that tattoo, he parts their mouths to divert his attention to where his hands roam, tracing the outline of that eagle with fascination. Much as he'd like to put his mouth there instead, all the flexibility in the world won't quite let him get away with that just yet, so he settles for tracing the scar running up Gladio's cheek with his nose until he can murmur by one of those oh-so sensitive ears of his: ]

Unless you're into that. I wanna do what you like.

[ Just because he's a giver, but also because he sure as hell doesn't know what he likes yet, himself. Right now, there's an easy case to be made for "everything." It all feels good, every second. ]

[indeferent]

Two way street, Firecr... Six.

<sub>[ Try as he might there's no way he can suppress the full-body shudder that comes with Law's breath against his ear. It tickles his fur and makes it twitch against his will against his lips, drawing a quiet, breathy laugh out of Gladio. A good thing too because it gives him a moment to catch his breath, tongue snaking out to run across his swollen lip with a content little sound. If Law wants to touch? Then by all means, Gladio will gladly let him. The hand he'd slipped under his shirt withdraws to wander up to a shoulder, tugging lightly at the collar of it to show a collarbone to the world. He touches it the same way he had on the way over here and thinks for a few moments, his head tilting this way and that and just... overall soaking up every little tidbit of affection Law can dish out. People always marveled at the scar across his eye but there was something different about it this time.

A gentle reverence that sends his insides fluttering. To Gladio it was proof of his devotion towards Noctis. It had been the first time he'd been able to truly prove that he was the only man suited for the job and he wore those bloodied bandages with pride even with people fussing over him and fearing for his eye in the hospital that very same night.

Before he even realizes it he's got his face tilting forward into Law's touch, the one hand still on his leg kneading into the meat of his thigh with another content sound in his throat. And if he tilts his head to press a kiss to his palm? Shush. He may look like a Behemoth but he doesn't have to act like one. He can be tender if he damn well pleases. ]</sub>

It's a two way street, Law. I wanna know what gets your motor going, 'n if you wanna try something? All you gotta do is say so.

_{[ He lightly catches a thumb between his teeth when it gets close to his lip, canines grazing across the pad. As tempting as it is to get another finger involved he holds off for the moment and Gladio dips his head down further to mouth at Law's jawline, ever mindful of his horns. It's no fun winding up with a concussion or a split eyebrow when things are getting good after all. Another kiss here, an open-mouthed one just below his ear, and he finally noses his way into the crook of his neck to nuzzle at Law's pulse. ]}

You won't hurt me either. One, I don't mind things gettin' rough. Two...

_{[ The hand at his thigh slides back to drag his palm across the curve of his ass once, twice, and then he delivers a short (and gentle) pinch with a laugh. ]}

I can show you what I'm talkin' about. Tilt your head back for me. I'll leave it somewhere you can cover up.

_{[ Taptap right to that collarbone. ]}

[counterattack]

[ But I don't know, he thinks for all of a second, and then wholly disregards. If you don't know, y'know what you gotta do, right? This is basic shit: find out. And just like that, his trepidation is gone, baby, gone. Law grins, blowing softly on that flicking ear the same way he'd do to any one of his many farm animal friends, not above injecting a little playfulness into this... whatever this is. Impassioned, tender, sloppy, drunken, experimental birthday party sexy adventure. The only unfortunate thing here is how he's a little too addled to really pay total attention to everything, his body and Gladio's, learning what exactly works and what doesn't. It's more of a go all in, try everything approach where every touch, everyplace he puts his mouth, is something done just to do it, to feel it, to see what happens.

His tail swishes back and forth, almost close enough for the fluff of it to brush against Gladio's hand, muffling a ragged little sound into the crook of his neck. One quick adjustment of his legs around his waist and he can slide down just a mite lower, knees pressed to his flanks, still able to hang on without much support. It lets him get that much closer, shuddering with satisfaction at how it feels to press so close. ]

Nn...? I'm not worried about hiding it. Maybe I wanna show off.

[ He's still thinking scars, bites, something that leaves a rough impression, but in his case? That's fine. No way a human being could possibly bite him worse than anything else here has, and he's not afraid of pain, anyway. All of those things, he wears with total pride, hence why he was quick to accentuate them with black ink, tribalesque stripes like some kind of war-torn, decorated animal. Proof he's alive, something he desperately needed the reminder for after what happened in Tikal, after death itself chewed him up and spit him back out. This is a reminder of a completely different kind, too—something he didn't know he not only wanted, but needed, until now.

His head tilts back, fearless, but the movement immediately makes his head spin, and that, at least, is enough to warrant grabbing onto that handy handlebar again to keep from tipping too far backwards. If not for the dizziness, he'd be pretty assured that Gladio's not letting him go anywhere, but with the grip he's got on him with his legs, he'd be just as likely to take them both down if he were to fall, and then he'd be spending his birthday feeling a totally different kind of sore instead. ]

Like this-?