The Chambers and The Valves
Chapter 1: Demons
Prompto struggles between keeping his superhero identity a secret and balancing his free time with the only friends he’s ever known. Mastering his abilities and keeping the peace with Gladio and Ignis turns out to be harder than he thought. What will he do when Noctis finds out?
Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence including but not limited to – blood, bruises, and injuries in general. proceed with caution.
Word Count: over 4k
Pairings: Some initial Promnis (because I couldn’t help myself, I’m sorry)
AO3 Link (as well as additional tags and information): http://archiveofourown.org/works/11700492/chapters/26345427
for the amazing @destiny-islanders and her wonderful spidey-prom au. also tagging @mistletien @brosura and @danielkesslers . A thousand thank you’s for beta reading and critiquing my work. I could not have done this without you.
((I hope no one minds the angst in this one. I know Spider-Man!Prompto is a comical au, but I feel like with the kind of danger Prompto’s getting himself into, it’s only natural that he’d come to blows with his friends because of his activities.))
Running was easy. He liked running. Getting up each day before the sun to go for a jog was his way of getting into shape, his way of making a mark, of casting off his old skin and jumping into a new one on the way to a better lifestyle. Now, as Gladio and Ignis so naggingly put it since getting bitten by that damnable spider, he has responsibilities. He has obligations. If he’s going to take this superhero thing seriously, he’s going to have to do more than just ‘go for a run.’ Especially if he insisted on prancing around in the dead of night in a baggy sweatshirt with the intent to pummel Insomnia’s criminals into a pancake.
Gladio took up the mantle of Prompto’s personal trainer and started him on a regular schedule of hand-to-hand combat, self-defense, and strength training in the comfort of his own apartment. At the end of each session, Prompto wobbled home feeling like the human equivalent of a boxing bag, but Gladio would hear no word of it. He had to be Ready. He had to do this Right. ’You can’t just rely on your powers for everything,’ Gladio’s words repeated over and over in his head. ’You go into this without even knowing the basics of a punch and you’re gonna get knocked on your ass faster than you think.’
It wasn’t like Prompto didn’t want to take this seriously. Of course he was serious about this. The whole superhero thing was his idea, after all. Gladio and Ignis were just bystanders, not to mention the ones who cleaned up his wounds the first couple times he came trudging back to their apartments caked in blood, exhibiting multiple fractures in his arms, and swaying on the spot like a cracked piñata. To say he was still in his rookie stage would be an understatement. This is what you get for trying to take on six guys by yourself, Argentum, he scolded himself.
All the same, he persisted. Prompto called it fate. Gladio called it a fluke, then a gamble, and then a curse. Ignis called him a ‘bumbling fool.’ Deep down Prompto knew they were only looking out for him and didn’t want him to get hurt — or worse, killed, but it bothered him more on the surface that they thought he was incompetent and was going to screw it all up somehow. He knew he was accident-prone. He knew he didn’t always have his head on straight, but give him a little credit? At least the police weren’t coming around asking questions.
“Don’t make me have to open the newspaper one morning and find your mangled corpse on the front page, you bloody imbecile,” Ignis said to him one afternoon whilst chopping a head of cauliflower for their soup. From his sitting position on Ignis’s kitchen counter, Prompto craned his neck — an action that sent a shock of electrical pain through his spine and down his shoulder, causing him to wince. He caught a glimpse of the knife his companion was using; it was sharp, but not nearly as sharp as the clipped syllables rolling off of Ignis’s tongue as he brought the knife down — hard — on the vegetable, and tossed the cut pieces into the pot with enough force to punctuate his point to his foolish friend. The impact of the cauliflower hitting the bottom made Prompto startle and almost tumble onto Ignis’s tiles if he hadn’t caught himself in time.
Ignis had trouble keeping track of his escapades and couldn’t be bothered to keep a tally. His seventh? Eighth venture? They all seemed to flow into each other. That his friend insisted on assaulting armed men before he could even shoot a web in the right direction aggravated Ignis to no end. Prompto managed to stop a bank robbery and fled the scene to Ignis’s apartment before he drew too much attention to himself. He chose Ignis as his sanctuary because it was the closest hiding place nearby to tend to his wounds, and to be perfectly honest he didn’t feel like getting barked at by Gladio for getting blood on his carpet again. Ignis took him in with a pitying shake of his head. Prompto still remembered the conversation now as the garlic in Ignis’s cast iron pot sizzled on the stove beside him.
THIS IS WONDERFUL!!! AHHHH!!!!!
Comments are closed.
~My Tumblr Back-Up And Stuffs~ 