#curator-d

They’re tucked in their bed, Vega idly tracing lines into the Slayer’s skin with delicate fingers. Occasionally, the man wriggles in place, showing that something he’s done tickles. Inky lay curled in his lap, soundly sleeping.

“How did this happen?” Vega points to a thick, ragged scar on the Slayer’s shoulder.

‘Baron,’ the man signs back. ‘Went clean through the gap in the suit.’

Vega hums worriedly. The plethora of scars on the man means he’s been through literal Hell and back, but they also mean that he’s survived all these encounters. He drifts to another scar, this one on the side of his face, towards his ear. “And this one?”

‘Close call with the Cyberdemon.’ He twists to expose part of his neck, where another thin, pale line shows itself. ‘There, too.’

“I don’t like how close those two were to…” Vega trails off. Gently, he runs his fingers along the lines, some small surge of affection overpowering the fretting as the Slayer leans into the touch.

‘Made it, at least.’ He shrugs.

“Yes, but one of these days they’ll--” he cuts off. He shouldn’t let his worrying ruin their mood.

Instead he focuses on something else. “Slayer, I never noticed that you had freckles.” There’s a smile in his voice.

The man frowns and looks down at his arm. ‘They’re faint, thankfully.’

“What do you mean, ‘thankfully’?” Vega scolds. “I think they’re quite endearing.”

The Slayer flushes ever so slightly, but enough for Vega to notice. “You aren’t embarrassed by them, are you?”

The man huffs at him.

“You shouldn’t be,” the AI continues. “All the more to remember that you are human.”

His face softens.

“You hadn’t thought of it that way?”

‘No.’

“Well, now you can.” Vega sidles up to his side, tucking into the crook of his arm snugly. “You may forget it sometimes, but you are human. Hayden may have taken some of that away from you, but you still hold a good portion of it.”

The Slayer looks pensive, thinking over what Vega’s said. His brow wrinkles as he frowns.

“I’ll keep telling you that,” Vega soothes a hand over sharp cheekbones. “As much as you need reminding.”

He had hoped he was subtle and quiet enough that the other had not noticed anything was wrong. 

The moment of weakness in down time--that is what he’ll tally it up to. Time where his mind could wander and fester freely, contort back onto worse days and times. 

Inky chirrs at him as rose to leave, though he opts to ignore her.

That’s likely what tipped Vega off, then.

He shuts himself in the armory, slumping against the door as all the strength leaves his muscles. He feels tears welling up in his eyes, and for once, he lets them fall freely. No one is around to see this weakness in him.

“Slayer?” Vega’s voice sounds from the other side of the door. “Is everything alright?”

Does he wish Vega would go away? Does he want the AI to pester him until he gives in? He’s not quite sure.

“We can talk through the door, if you would prefer,” Vega offers. The Slayer knows Vega could simply command the door to open if he so desired, but the other respects the man’s privacy too much to do so unwarranted.

He doesn’t say anything, not at first. His body shakes and trembles at held-in sobs stifled in his throat. From the other side of the door, he can now hear Inky, who must have left her post to investigate. He hears Vega quietly and politely usher her back.

Eventually, the urge for comfort, for touch, for something overwhelms his desire to be left alone. One hand slaps the console by the door to command it to open as he scoots to the wall.

Vega hesitates before entering, something Inky does not take the time to do. She rushes in, tail high, chittering to him as if scolding him for leaving her. After a moment, Vega enters as well, quietly taking in the sight before him.

“Are you alright?” He asks again. He gets no response. “Why are your eyes so red?” he continues worriedly. “Were you…”

The Slayer nods his head as the sentence trails off. That seems to be Vega’s signal to move in, as he silently pads over and sits on the floor next to him. Inky takes to rubbing along his side, her thick fur tickling his arms.

For a few minutes, they simply sit in silence. Vega likely knows the Slayer doesn’t need to be spoken to, doesn’t need to speak. He simply needs to know he is not alone in the moment. 

“I had noticed you left in somewhat of a rush,” Vega murmurs after a span of silence. “The fact that you left her,” he nods his head to Inky, “unattended was another indicator that something was awry.”

This is where he chides you. This is where he tells you that you’re supposed to be strong and brave and not let your emotions and thoughts get the better of you. This is where he tells you to be shameful.

“I can tell you are overthinking, Slayer,” Vega interrupts. “And I can guess at what you are thinking as well.”

The Slayer braces himself.

Vega notices. “If you are expecting me to scold you for having emotions, you will be left empty-handed. I am not here to do that.” He offers a hand. “I am here to help you through it.”

The Slayer looks at him incredulously. 

“Emotions are a fact of human life,” Vega shrugs. “You are more human than you think yourself to be. I would rather you let them out than keep them contained until they overflow, as that may harm you.”

Inky plants her forepaws on one of his thighs, standing up and getting right into his face. She sniffs him before bonking her head into his, rubbing affectionately. Of its own volition, his hand rises to ruffle her fur.