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Aranea's pirates are a little too interested in Noctis. And Ignis. And Prompto too, if only because he could probably run this airship on his own. Call it paranoia, but Gladio's not ready to trust them just yet. They've chased the two boys and work for money; what's to stop them from handing 'em over to Ardyn for a little more change?
On the contrary, Noctis and Prompto don't seem to care. Hell, they seem to enjoy being above the clouds—good for them. Gladio's feeling green himself. He'd love nothing more than to kick back and do fuck all with Iggy 'til they land, but Aranea is strict.
“You better pull your weight,” she says, voice as clear and sharp as Iggy's when he means business. “I'm not having you fly for free around here.”
Gladio is set to tinker with some basic repairs, Prompto and Noctis will navigate, and Ignis will be on the other side of the ship, preparing dinner for the entire crew. In a filthy kitchen that may or may not have seen a drop of soap in the past year.
It's too much for a one-person job, and the pirates know their ship better than Gladio will, but away he goes, lest Aranea introduces him to the wrong end of a spear.
Now, Gladio's well aware that Ignis is gorgeous. It's why he married him. Ignis also happens to have a ring on his finger that he hopes will dissuade the pirates from doing anything.
Working on an airship ain't so different than fiddling with the machinery down in the mines. It's boring work that even a rookie could do, and Gladio finishes in no time. Sure, he could double-check that fence on the bridge and make sure it won't fall apart under the slightest bit of turbulence, but something's calling him to the kitchen.
Ignis has his back turned to the door, standing over a pot of something that smells delicious. He briefly tilts his head to the side when Gladio steps in, unable to turn before Gladio has embraced him from behind.
“Oh, Gladio,” Ignis says, leaning back and giving Gladio a quick peck. “I'll have you know dinner isn't ready yet.”
Gladio thinks he can melt into Ignis' touch. “Smells fantastic anyway. Anything I can do to help?”
And then Ignis replies with, “Thank you, but I already have more than enough help,” and Gladio realizes they're not alone.
Aranea's pirates, damn near all of them, are crammed into this tiny kitchen. They're peeling potatoes, washing dishes—whatever odds and ends needs to be done around here. Aranea made it clear there was work to be done, and Iggy sure as hell ain't need two pirates to stir the soup for him.
“The fuck are you lot doing here?” Gladio snarls. “Y'all don't have better to do than to mooch up to a married man?”
Gladio thinks he makes a threat or two—it's lost in the hustle as the pirates scamper out of the kitchen. He slams the door shut behind them, louder than he should have, breathing hard.
Ignis is laughing behind him.
“I daresay that'll be the last time any pirate will approach you. Or myself, for that matter,” Ignis says. He raises an eyebrow. “Were you actually that envious?”
“No,” Gladio says, too quickly. “Of course not.”
Ignis hums and pulls Gladio into a kiss. He's wearing that frustratingly attractive smirk when their lips part.
“You know I have eyes only for you.”
“I know, I know.”
“Besides,” Ignis says, “I was only using those men to help clean this same mess they made. They're very malleable to manipulation, it seems.”
“That's my Iggy,” Gladio says, and he pulls Ignis into another kiss.