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Gladio puts his hands on his hips and takes a quick inventory of all the shit he’s just packed in the Regalia’s trunk. His duffel bag. Prompto’s rucksack, overflowing with clothes. Noct’s suitcase. The three paperbacks he just bought at the Coernix Station. Prompto’s stack of skin mags. A mega-sized bag of gummy flans that Noct insisted on buying, deaf to Iggy’s lectures. Plus their camping equipment—tent, sleeping bags, stove, folding chairs, prep table. Getting it all in there was like trying to solve a goddamn jigsaw puzzle.
He kinda feels like he’s forgetting something, though.
Glancing up, he sees Noct and Prompto in the window of the Longwythe Crow’s Nest across the street, laughing over milkshakes and what he’s guessing is a platter of pancakes. That’s what they always get for breakfast when they go to the Crow’s Nest.
As for Iggy, he’s still in the motel room, getting dressed. When the phone rang an hour ago, jolting them all awake, he tossed Gladio the keys and told him to pack the car and gas up. Then he paced the room in his pyjamas, patiently explaining to some poor admin back at the Citadel how to prepare a letter of welcome on behalf of the king.
Gladio snaps his fingers.
Right. He’s forgetting the twelve-pack of Ebony.
He slams the trunk and pockets the keys, heading back toward the motel room. As a courtesy, he knocks once before entering. The room is empty, but light spills out of the bathroom, and the sink is running. He can hear Iggy brushing his teeth in there.
Glancing around the room, he spots the twelve-pack on the floor next to Iggy’s open suitcase. The clothes inside it are all perfectly folded. Gladio has to chuckle as he bends down to grab the case of Ebony. Leave it to Iggy to have everything in its place.
When he turns around, Iggy is standing in the door of the bathroom, toothbrush still in his mouth, wearing nothing but a pair of dark grey boxer briefs and an open pinstripe dress shirt. For a second, Gladio’s brain stops working. He’s never seen Iggy in anything less than dress pants and a t-shirt. Hell, the man’s so modest that Gladio’s wondered on more than one occasion if he ain’t some kind of undercover monk.
Strong, lean thighs fill out the legs of his boxer briefs, and Gladio tries not to let his gaze linger on the bulge in the front of his underwear. So he moves on to the dusting of sandy hair low on Iggy’s belly, and the little mole just to the left of his navel, and the hard, defined plane of his abs. There’s a hint of dusky nipple when the shirt moves. Even the way his necklace rests in the hollow of his throat looks sexy. It just emphasizes how little he’s actually wearing.
Iggy clears his throat, and Gladio snaps out of it.
“Did you forget something?” Iggy asks, one eyebrow raised, his toothbrush in hand.
“Yeah.” Gladio holds up the cans of Ebony, looking at the floor so he ain’t tempted to look at Iggy’s body. “Forgot this. I’m just gonna put it in the trunk. You almost ready to go?”
“Yes. I just need to finish getting dressed.” Ignis turns to go back into the bathroom, but then he pauses, raising a finger. “Actually, if you’d be so good as to put the Ebony in the backseat? I'll need them for the drive to Galdin Quay.”
Gladio nods and crosses to the door, glancing one more time at Iggy as he goes. He has a tight, round little ass, too, and the way his underwear clings to it is just…
Fuck.
Gladio opens the door and steps outside. When it’s closed behind him, he leans against it, shutting his eyes, and sucks in an unsteady breath. He can’t be thinking about Iggy like this. Nope. It ain’t right. Iggy’s his friend. Iggy’s his co-worker. Iggy’s a dude.
Hell…Iggy’s hot.
He lets out his breath and hoists the pack of Ebony under his arm. Right. First order of business, finish packing the car. Second, gas up. Third?
He really needs to do something about his boner.