lhugbereth:

Oh, my friend ❤ Thank you for sharing this little bit of pure Promptio. I hope you don’t mind a little drabble in exchange? :3

~

It’s after midnight when Gladio’s truck pulls into the garage. He kills the engine quick, not wanting the noise to wake the neighbors, and drops the keys into his jacket pocket. Snags his duffel back out of the passenger seat and groans at the weight of it on his already sagging shoulders. He’s tired, he’s old, he’s overworked. But at least he’s finally made it home. 

And home means a lot of things. It means there’s a couple bottles of cold beer in the fridge. It means a hot shower and an oversized towel to wrap around his waist. It means those fuzzy behemoth-themed slippers Prom got him for their anniversary last year (he secretly loves how soft they are on the heels of his feet). It means comfort.

But most important of all, home means Prompto. Sweet, freckled Prompto, the light of his life and the most lovable pain in his neck. Gladio finds him already in bed when he cracks open the door, still dressed and wearing his glasses. His phone is on the pillow next to him – screen blinking in the middle of some game – and soft light is pouring out across the carpet from the bedside lamp. The scene is, in a word, heartwarming. 

Gladio smiles. Creeps in as quietly as he can, intending to switch off the light so his husband can sleep in peace. But something unexpected catches his eye. It’s Prompto’s shirt – or, well, the shirt he’s currently swimming in, in any case. Black, worn, with the straps sliding down his thin shoulders and an unmistakable silver logo embroidered on the front. Crownsguard. It’s Gladio’s favorite tank top. He could have sworn he tossed it in the hamper that morning, but…. 

“Mm. Gladdy…?” A shift on the mattress. The sheets pull back as Prompto stirs, his bright blue eyes opening just enough to peek up at his husband above him. “What time is it?”

“Almost one,” he answers, and his tone is tinged with apology. “There was some trouble at the station, had to pull an extra shift. At least they gave me the rest of the weekend off for it.” 

A sleepy smile. Prompto, yawning, rolls onto his back and lets Gladio slip off his glasses for him. “That means you can sleep in late.” 

“It does.”

“With me.”

“With you.” Pink lips are so inviting in that moment. Prompto blushes, tells him to at least let him brush his teeth first, but Gladio isn’t in the mood to wait. His jacket comes off, followed by his belt, his uniform, his socks. Until he’s stripped down to his boxers (also behemoth-themed, they match the slippers) and climbing into bed next to the love of his life. 

“Gladdy, you’re all sweaty,” the blond laughs, not actually minding as his own arms find their way around broad shoulders. 

“Yeah, well. I thought you liked the way I smell.” As he speaks, he tugs at the strap of the stolen shirt, and watches as several emotions flash across his husband’s face. Embarrassment, a sheepish smile, and finally – to Gladio’s delight – a grin that could rival his own for downright mischief. 

“You want it back? You’re gonna have to take it from me.” 

Ooh, temping. But it’s late, and as much as he would love to see Prompto squirming in various states of undressed beneath him right now, he’s also liable to fall asleep in the middle of the good stuff. So, placing a kiss right in the center of those perfect lips, he promises to make up for it first thing in the morning. 

Prompto, understanding, settles for cuddling him down under the sheets. 

The lamp is switched off. Prom’s phone joins Gladio’s on the nightstand, and two heads sink as one into the heavenly soft pillows. And as his husband’s steady breathing gradually coaxes his eyes closed, Gladio can’t help but smile. 

In Prompto’s arms, he’s home. And home is exactly where he loves to be.