bakerstreet | burning bright

Prompto's all about warm, soft beds and walls thick enough that he can't hear daemons moving way too close to comfort, but he's gotta say - there's something he totally digs about camping. He glances up from where he'd been putting the finishing touches on the tent, the mosquito flap still half-attached as he shifts to watch Gladio.

"They're cleaning that sea bass from today. Fun times," Prompto says and shrugs. Him, he's more than happy to get stuck on tent duty because it means he doesn't get sticky scales all over him. Not his favorite way to end the evening. "You turning in early?"

Gladio looks like he's about to melt into the chair, his long legs sprawling out. Sometimes - and Prompto's so far kept this to himself - he's wondered how that chair's survived consider how Gladio always throws himself down on it.

"Guess so," Gladio offers to the question, a hand coming up and rubbing at the back of his neck as he looks into the fire. The fires of the Havens never stop burning, never need fuel, but despite their ethereal origins, it still always feels perfect to him. Campfires are soothing things, something small that brings a deep comfort even in the darkest night.

While standing around the dock keeping an eye on the Princess hadn't exactly been the best of days, even more so because Noct seemed content to fish in the rain, there is one thing he can't complain about. "Least we'll eat something good tonight. Haven't had fresh fish in a while."

His gaze turns back and looks the tent over once, giving a professional eye, before grunting. "Looks good." Kid had picked up fast on being able to do camp basics for someone who had never done it until this trip. A hell of a lot different than when he'd started and the tent ended up collapsed in.

Gladio isn't exactly loose with the compliments so when he does get one, Prompto can't help but feel fluffy all over, like he really earned it this time (that day he got his first Gladio-approved thumbs up? Totally seered into his memory). Prompto flashes a smile as he finishes up with the tent, dusting off his hands as he wanders back to the cooler. Rummaging inside, he comes up with two bottles of water, deliciously lukewarm because their royal ice dispenser ran off.

Plopping down on his own chair, he leans over and offers the water to Gladio. "How'd the scouting trip go? Anything cool? Or am I gonna be sleeping with one eye open tonight?"

In other words, if he saw any signs of fresh Imperial activity or whatever; y'know, fun stuff like that. While he isn't a fan of trooping around near the dark, Gladio's made of harder stuff than he is. If there's something out there, he can trust the guy not to sugarcoat it.

"Surprisingly, not much to report." Gladio takes the offered bottle with a grunt of thanks, cracking it open and draining half of it in a few rapid gulps. Man, he hadn't even realized how thirsty he was until he laid eyes on something to drink, no matter the temperature. "We're set pretty far from the nearest base and there's not a lot out here to interest the daemons, so I think we'll get a quiet night."

There is a snort from him, though, giving a pointed look around the camp. "Glad they waited to find out." He smirks briefly before shaking his head and letting it fall back, eyes closed. Really, he has no problem playing the scout, the camp guardsman, but a night where maybe they all can relax for a little while is far from a bad thing. It's been a while since they've stayed in a hotel but he's the only one who really doesn't mind it; he could camp forever if he had to. Except for one thing, which reminds him-

"Might interest you, but I found a pond pretty close by. Means we'll all get a wash up and a pretty decent one at that. Clean, not sure how deep it goes but it's got a spot that looked like we could actually get a half proper bath out of it as long as we go in pairs." His eyes open and he flashes a grin towards the blond, his voice a tease. "Unless you've got an interest possibly fighting alone and naked."

Always entertaining to see what way he can wind the kid up.

It's not a promise but hey, he figures it's better than nothing. A quiet night means sea bass with Ignis's touch, kicking his boots off aching feet, and then he can worry about who gets the cramped corner of the tent. Noct might be prince, but he still has to beat him in King's Knight if he wants the coziest spot, royalty or not - he plans to give him a run for his gil once he gets back.

"I do love me some quiet nights," Prompto unscrews the bottle's cap, sipping it and pulling a small face. Needs ice, bad. It's that perfect level of lukewarm that sits on the tongue like a film and makes it taste all weird, almost like it's sweat. He's still drinking the water, sweat-warm and all, nodding along as Gladio brings up the pond. Cool cool, got it, would be nice to get -

Prompto spits his water as he sputters on fighting alone and naked. "Dude!"

He wipes the back of his mouth with a gloved hand, eyes darting up to Gladio who's busy smirking like nobody's business. Yeah, he bets he waited until he was drinking just to drop that mental image in his lap like the present he never asked for. Thanks, buddy. Thanks a lot.

"Tactical streaking? Hard pass. Pretty sure that won't be much of an advantage against the Imperials," Prompto struggles to recover as he reaches down and brushes some of the water off his knee with quick flicks. "But yeah, would be nice to get clean. I'll go with you."

There. He'll go, so long as he isn't wandering in the dark by himself.

Let them duke it out over the space in the tent. There was a system in place, as far as Gladio was concerned. Ignis ended up closest to the front simply because the man got up so much earlier than the rest of them were willing most days with Gladio generally taking the opposite side in case something happened, giving the Shield the quickest way to the exit. Whatever the other two chose to do with the space, Gladio lets them have at it every night they camp.

Prompto's reaction to his 'suggestion' is exactly what he could have hoped for and Gladio laughs, putting his hands behind his head and looking anything but innocent. While, despite Prompto's thoughts, he hadn't been waiting for that exact moment, it happened to just work out perfectly didn't it? "You should tell that to Iggy. 'Tactical streaking'." His snort is an amused one, imagining Ignis' reaction to that - all deadpan voice and narrowed eyes or dry sarcasm and hiding down his finding the whole thing funny, depending on Ignis' mood at the time.

"I'll guard your backside from anything coming to bite it." He eyes the stars above and the moon itself, then shrugs. "If you want to do it now, should do it before the others get back. Otherwise, do it in the morning."

"Why, so you can sear that mental image in his brain too?" Prompto cocks an eyebrow over what's left of his water bottle. "Gladio, this might be new to you, but there's a little thing called 'mercy'."

He hurried chugs back the rest of his water, barely tasting it because he's still thinking about tactical streaking - in front of Imperials, daemons, all of Lestallum, even C...Cindy. Face burning hot, he's glad the campfire's glow has to be hiding the worst of his blush. If they were still burning daylight, he bets his pasty complexion would've broadcast everything for the world to see. Stalling by polishing off his water and tossing the empty bottle into the group trash bag a few feet away, he faces Gladio and crosses fingers that he can't see whatever's left of his blush.

"C'mon, let's do it and get it over with. I don't like sleeping with wet hair," Prompto trusts Gladio to guard his back, no doubts about that. His backside, though, he thinks he can handle all by himself without Gladio needing to babysit him through it too.

He gets up to collect his stuff, making it a point not to forget anything to give Gladio more ammo. Everything they've got to use as supplies is pretty much Gladio-approved for hoofing it out in the sticks: degradable, doesn't leave much, if any, of a trail for animals, daemons or humans to track. Look, he even remembers his towel; it's slung over one shoulder as he marches up to Gladio and lifts his chin.

"Well, I'm ready." See? Didn't forget his towel this time. Look who's Mr. Prepared now.

Edited (small typos) 2017-03-30 06:05 (UTC)

"Yep. Mostly because you know his reaction will be good." Gladio doesn't mind teasing any of them, even if once in a while it goes a bit too far, but he takes as much as he gives (in particular from Noct). Like right now when he preens up his shoulders to make himself look bigger and snorts. "Mercy is for the weak." Spoken seriously until the corner of his mouth lifts.

He is going to refuse to take the blame the day Prompto suddenly puts tactical streaking into action.

Prompto only got a grunt from the bigger man at the 'c'mon', hauling himself up slowly out of the chair and going to get his own things. It actually speaks a great deal about how far the blond's come that Gladio would trust him to guard his back while he rushes through a wash up, though he also would have absolutely no issue in fighting in any state that he finds himself in.

Gladio eyes Prompto and his supplies over once before giving a faint smirk. Kid really does try. He gestures with his head for Prompto to follow and sets out down the Haven's slope and plunges without fear into the darkness beyond it, trusting the other will keep up. As promised, it's probably less than a hundred yards away from the Haven, tucked up in a misery of brush that, from the look of it, Gladio probably cut himself a path through. The water reflects their flashlights like a mirror, completely still and so clear at the edges the bottom can be seen for a good ways in. Probably not too deep.

[ooc: So does Prompto get scarred for life by fighting!Naked!Gladio during this? XD]

[Possibly! Maybe also a little jealous because damn at dem abs]

He hopes Iggy has a strong stomach than. For all he knows, the mental picture of Tactical Streaking Action might not even get a lifted eyebrow.

The trip to the pond is thankfully short, like practically spitting distance short - enough that he's pretty sure he can find his way back even if his pants are down and he needs to lunge back into the safety of the campfire's light in a hurry. The flashlights are enough to go by to find his way to the pond's bank. It's more like a loose collection of rocks and gravel with some mud thrown in for good measure, all settled at the bottom and he's a little relieved he doesn't see fish in there. When you bathe with fish, you start getting...worried. Like imagining those fish getting a little too curious and he's going to cut short that train of thought, stat. Prompto picks up a branch and probes the bottom for a moment, just like Gladio showed him, checking to make sure the bottom is stable and there aren't any hidden caves waiting to suck him under. Apparently that can happen out in the sticks, streams can look small and harmless until you wade in and get sucked under.

Prompto drops the stick to the side as he straightens. "Okay, so I guess it's like before? You keep an eye out so I don't get bit in the ass by a daemon?"

They've camped out in the boonies enough that the whole "how do we bathe with zero privacy" thing has come up a few times. Prompto isn't completely used to getting butt naked in front of everyone but he's a little less shy than he was back home. He plops down next to Gladio on a rock, unlacing his boots, fingers fumbling slightly in the dim lighting.

[Grate cheese on those things.]

Prompto might miss the approving look Gladio sends his way as the blond checks things out for himself. Really, he's got to give the kid credit. He's pushed himself further than Gladio ever would have guessed when they started this trip, found at least some of his spine along the way, and he's become fairly competent in battle. Enough that he trusts Prompto at his back.

"Yep. Though if they sneak up close enough to bite your ass, I might just let them." He snorts, a smirk coming up to his lips as he turns his back to Prompto and casts his gaze over what he can see in the part in the brush he made, listening carefully out there and guessing what's happening behind him as Prompto gets ready.

They've all had to learn how to deal with the zero privacy thing in a lot of ways. This was meant to be a few days road trip, nothing more, so all of the things they didn't expect to have to handle... well. It's been a lot of ignoring morning woods and nudity and pretending things didn't happen. Little of it bothers Gladio (maybe not a surprise given he's fine in leather pants and shirtless) but he's not beyond noticing it does bother Prompto probably the most of all of them. He's caught sight of the kid a few times - there's hints the kid might not have always been the rail he is now but he's got that sort of very lean muscle that quick guys get. Nothing to be ashamed of.

Prompto huffs out a sound. Hey, there were a few times where he'd wondered if it was on purpose, like some Gladio-version of putting hair on his chest by letting him get close and personal with a small demon. That was his first thought when they ran into the first ones, up until he realized that he was expected to hold his own weight whether or not he was just some city boy instead of someone from Kingsglaive. These days he figures Gladio isn't (always) pulling his chain. If they did get jumped by a daemon out here, he trusts the guy to start swinging with that insanely huge sword of his. He can give him crap for getting caught with his pants down after.

"You're a good friend, Gladio," Prompto says and while he imagines he's channeling Ignis's dry humor, he knows he can't compare. "Okay, here goes nothing. Be prepared to be shocked and awed."

He quickly strips down after instinctively facing away, not because he wants to be ass naked in front of Gladio, but because the longer he takes, the more exposed he is to the cool night air and the idea of a daemon attack with zero between him and their claws. He sheds his tank top and, after sneaking a look over his shoulder to make sure Gladio still has his back turned, he peels off his wrist band. As much as he hates exposing the bar code, he likes the idea of having the soggy material hugging up against his skin for days on end even less.

From the sound of his splashing, he's already waded into the middle of the pond and started lathering up, running the camp soap through his hair that will make it all frizzy when it dries out. That's camping life for your: daemons and loud rain drumming on the tent and killing your hair with outdoorsy soap. Maybe Gladio's onto something with the whole untamed, manliest of men mullet he has going on. Maintenance has gotta be easier, at the very least.

Prompto suds up his hair and then dunks his head in the pond, coming up for air as he spits out water. "Water's nice, by the way! Really nice find, man."

Maybe tonight he'll sleep like a rock between Gladio handing him a bath and the incoming food coma from Iggy.

[Your tagging never fails to make me grin. "Manliest of men mullet". XD]

Prompto is definitely not the kind of person designed to pull off dry humor, specially not at Ignis' level. Ignis is the king of dry humor, as far as Gladio's concerned. Still, he attempt makes him give a huff of a laugh, one hand on his hip and watching out while listening behind him for signs of any trouble in that direction.

"Yep," he says when he hears Prompto go into the water, "in total shock and awe." There was his attempt at dry humor for you, Prompto.

Really, does this kid know how to do anything quietly? He's a bit on the tense side as he waits to see if Prompto's splashing about drives any interest from the local wildlife or worse, but nothing comes to his senses. ....His hair is fantastic, thank you. If he can manage to keep it relatively soft and not a complete mess, anyone should be able to. Still, he's looking forward to a full body bath and getting the dirt out of said manly mullet. What he needs is someone to help sheer the sides down again.

"Yeah?" He frowns into the night, shifting his body to point his flashlight but all he sees is a bat fluttering briefly through the light, scooping up bugs on the wing he imagines. Relaxes again. "Good. Been itching for a bath all day."

[EXCELLENT :D]

"I could tell," Prompto says from where he's enjoying the feeling of squeaky clean, once again. He flashes a lop-sided grin in the dim light, the corner of his mouth quirking. "I'm almost done, just give me a sec."

He hurries through at warp speed - or the next closest thing - running the soap over his arms and legs and just about anywhere else that feels like it has the road dust caked on and in (which is pretty much everywhere). When he wades out, he's dripping but as clean as he'll get considering he's still looking over his shoulder for daemons. Reaching for the towel he's left pooled on a rock, Prompto first scrubs his hair into spikes and then quickly starts drying himself off with pats, trying to conserve what limited dry towel space he has left. Back home he would've taken long, lazy minutes. Now that he's officially weaned off it, it's half that.

"Pond's all yours, buddy," Prompto says once he's at least dry enough to shimmy into his underwear. The rest he'll pull on at his leisure, the towel now piled up around his head in a wrap as if they're at a spa, not a camp ground out in the middle of nowhere. Goosebumps rise along his arms as he reaches down for his pants, shaking out the shiny lunar beetle already trying to set up shop in there before he glances at Gladio. It's automatic, the casual flicks of his eyes toward Gladio, toward Iggy. Toward Noct. Checking where they are, what they're doing. If something's wrong, which seems like it's happening more often than he'd like.

The 'all yours' lets him know it's safe to look and with a quick confirmation over his shoulder, Gladio stretches out tall before grabbing the pack at his feet and walking over to where Prompto is. He pops it open and tugs out the towel and soap in there, ignoring the shaving kit entirely used to keep the beard neat. He catches Prompto saving his backside from invasion by bug and hides down a smile at the sight of it. Not a squeal, not a panicked voice, just a quick removal and continue on. Really, the blond had come such a long way from when he'd first met the nervous kid in Noct's shadow.

He stands up and strips off his vest, laying it on a sturdier branch of the bushes surrounding so it's not sitting in the dirt, then without hesitation goes for his belt. "Didn't hear so much as a peep except for a bat," shift of leather, pop the buckle's front, tug, loosen. "Hoping anything that might be interested gets confused by the brush."

"I'm sure that'll slow them down," Prompto grunts. He starts working his pants back on, shimmying his hips again because he swore he gained a few pounds from Iggy practicing his latest recipe. Damn him and his awesome culinary skills. "Don't worry, I got an eye out."

And a gun. It took some used to with the whole summoning it to his fingers, but he thinks he's got a handle on it by now.

He finishes up getting dressed, wriggling his toes as he laces up his boots and for the most part he keeps an eye and ear for the bushes just like he's supposed to. The other he uses to eavesdrop on Gladio, keeping tabs on him and it takes him a moment to notice he's a lot quieter than he was. Huh. Maybe he still does have thing or two to learn from him.

After awhile: "How's it going? You decent?"

"Give me more than two minutes, kid," comes the response from somewhere deeper in the pond with barely only the sound of water. He is very good at being able to move silently as possible, from years of camping it's something he's made sure that he would be able to do, never mind being able to use it in combat effectively as well.

But Prompto is going to discover that Gladio isn't the only thing that can move silently. Slowly, moving closer, with Prompto focused more on Gladio, a voretooth prowls step by step towards the nice, vulnerable prey in front of it, knowing its pack is creeping in step by step. It has enough intelligence to know it has to get the prey out away from the brush so the whole pack can attack.

But in the darkness comes a faint crack! Prompto might pick it up just before the lead creature leaps for him.

Prompto gets about a split second of warning before the dark shape rushes him, low enough to the ground that it almost looks like an overgrown dog. The spines he sees catching hints of the moonlight tell him it's a voretooth, not the bigger, uglier daemons but that doesn't matter because the voretooth can ruin your day in its own special way. He manages to cut off his shout off before it attracts any others - that's what he'll go with later, anyway, because the truth is it's surprise and adrenaline that chokes it off.

He stumbles backward, summoning his pistol. The shot he fires isn't his best: he means to get a good, clean head shot but when the target's moving and snarling, it's more wishful thinking than anything else. He gets the voretooth in the chest, enough to slow it down. The two of them tumble into the pond, water splashing as the voretooth hisses and kicks up mud and pebbles as it struggles to get its teeth into something.

It's about then that the rest of the pack decides to go for the kill, two more breaking through the darkness to rush Gladio.

Since Prompto doesn't give a warning shout, it's the sound of gunfire cracking in the darkness that gives it all away. Gladio feels a momentary grip in his chest - fear - but he doesn't let it stop him. Prompto's re-introduction to the water gives him a target. With a roar, there is the instant pull within him, a silent pictured call in his mind and the physical grasping of his hand that starts on nothing and ends with solid leather in his hand. The shield's weight drags down his arm briefly as he uses that addition to drive down onto one of the creatures coming towards him, followed by swinging it back up to clear back the other one before it could get a strike.

"Prompto!" He risked a look back towards the other, completely oblivious to the fact that he was still completely in the buff as he tried to spot that flare of bright blond but it was so damn dark! "PROMPTO!"

Prompto hears Gladio - at least he thinks he hears him, under the churning water muffling the voretooth scrabbling and snarling. He manages to resurface as the beast missteps and its weight shifts enough that he can come up for air, sputtering and spitting water, hair in his face as he surges to his feet.

"Back!" Prompto's professional enough that when he turns and gets a Gladio full-frontal, he manages not to gape for longer than a split second. Funny how survival-mode kicks in, adrenaline floods the system, and you just plain have other things to occupy your attention.

(He'll be a little jealous and a lot impressed after).

This time he gets a better bead on the voretooth. The first shot skids across the skull. The second hits dead on, the voretooth's screech drowned out as it flops into the pond. The last one dances back from Gladio's swing, prancing back to the muddy bank before it lunges again, going right for the big man's jugular.

When the blond surges back up out of the water and a pair of bullets go off in the night, relief kicks in as powerful as a hi-potion. Gladio's attention turns completely on the last voretooth, his eyes wide as he watches the creature against the darkness. There's no light on him so he's following it near entirely by sound - the scrape of claws against pebbles, the suck of mud from a paw, the rancid hiss of its breath. When he hears the sudden sound - a spray of rocks - he snarls and takes the guess.

He sweeps the shield with all of his strength, and far too close for comfort, he hears the edge of it crack into the voretooth's skull. It's so close that it still makes him stagger back, nearly slipping to fall back into the water but keeping his balance only with a bit of luck. It doesn't help with the spray of gore across his left arm and far edge of his shoulder, but it's very clear that the strike had been a critical one, leaving the body to be thrown to the far edge of the pond.

There he stands in the water, panting from the rush of adrenaline in his veins. "Shit." Just a breathed word before he listens, trying to pick out the sound of anything else before looking back towards Prompto as the immediate source of light. "You okay?"

"Got all my arms and legs so yeah, think I'm okay."

Winded and bruised, but okay. Prompto releases his hold on his gun, watching it shimmer away into blue sparks and he has his hands free again. For the most part he's gotten past his hands trembling after a fight part. Nice part is he doesn't feel like he needs to hide it, shoving his hands in his pockets and hoping the others haven't noticed. The other stuff he can't exactly help - the quick breathing, wide eyes, the way he knows he'll start talking too much because he's discovering how much he likes breathing all over again - and that's all by the wayside as he turns back toward Gladio.

"We're like pros at this now," Prompto's anything if not predictable as he gets his ramble on. "You're the tank, I'm DPS, I guess Noct is like a hybrid because of course, and Iggy's the healer - "

And that's about when he turns and takes in Gladio giving him the full display of his...everything. Prompto stops, mouth frozen hanging open, and for the first time in a while, he's so surprised he's stunned into silence.

Aaaand there it is, the familiar Prompto post-battle ramble. Lets him know the other's okay, now that he's (mostly) gotten past his annoyance of it from sheer amount of repeat experience. He shakes his head, arm sweeping out lightly to allow the shield to disappate back into the voidspace somewhere inside of them, the sparks of magic reflecting off the water before it goes dark again.

"Noct's basically every DPS class combined," Gladio agrees at least, catching onto the King's Knight reference easily enough as he bends over to quickly wipe away the splatter from his last attack. In the process, he misses Prompto's stare, cupping water and letting it fall to wash away the gore. "I'm a five-star tank."

But it was Prompto's silence that makes him pause, bringing his head up to look at the blond--

It only takes a second to realize what's going on and he gives a grin, unable to help himself with the tease on his voice. "Like what you see?"

Prompto's doing a very good fish impression. His mouth snaps shut with an audible click of teeth. "What? No - I mean, uh...I'm just impressed. Yeah."

Yeah, that was totally it.

Now Prompto's flushing red again, deep enough that he wonders if Gladio can see it in the poor lighting like this because it feels like he totally could. Probably heard it in his voice. Guy's scary perceptive sometimes. Prompto clears his throat, ducks his head, tells himself he won't glance over again (too late, already did; it's like a magnet) and then wades back to the mud-churned bank of the pond. He's still frazzled as he feels around for the towel, trying to dry himself off again and mostly he's just smearing water and mud around at this point because the towel's useless.

Seriously, he's probably going to see Gladio in his birthday suit in his dreams. Over and over again, in loving, high-definition detail.

Gladio's laugh follows Prompto out to the shore as Gladio finishes up, then follows the blond out towards the edge. He glances over and shakes his head, deciding to the hells with it and only pulling on a pair of sweat pants. (Not getting leather over damp skin any time soon.) Being at least decent again, he walks over and drops his towel in front of Prompto. "Go around the other side, get most of it off. Towel's mostly dry, least better off than that thing, and I've got a spare shirt in here you can use. I'll keep an eye out while I pack, but be quick about it."

There's a momentary pause, then Gladio shakes his head and clasps Prompto's shoulder briefly. "Nice shooting, though." Trying to pull Prompto out of his little circle of looking like a confused puppy. Kid's adorable, definitely managed to fill himself out over the last few years thanks to training, but he's not going to say that out loud to him. If just seeing someone naked makes him react like that, then best not to make it worse.

Gladio's decent because apparently - unlike some people here - he brings extra clothes to the pond. Sweatpants, to be exact. They're comfy looking, too, and now Prompto's staring at the guy with a different kind of envy. You really, truly can't beat the joy of comfy pants.

...he seriously needs to start bringing some. Maybe next place they stop at, he'll put that on the olde shopping list.

Prompto's starting to recover enough to take the rare compliment from Gladio, cherish it and then pick up the towel. This close he can see the almost smile on the other man's face (it's a smile, right? Sometimes Gladio pulls these killer straight faces, just to see your reaction).

"Thanks! Been brushing up on it," Prompto has the towel clutched to his chest. "I'll be back before you know it."

And while he isn't quite that fast, Prompto's a hell of a lot faster getting cleaned up and mostly dried off a second time around. Now he's clean but a little damp, the towel only able to dry off so much, his chest bare to the night air. He's rocking some fashionable goosebumps as he rolls up to Gladio and he's got to admit, he's looking forward to that spare shirt even if it will be several sizes too big.

"So about that shirt...I'm looking like a kid tonight, aren't I?"

burning bright

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Dunno your take on Prompto's body... will change if an issue!

it's a-okay!

^_^

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(no subject)

Thinking we could timeskip or end thread? Seems like a good point :3a

Hope this works!

Yup yup - let's start wrapping here and go for timeskip? :3a