If you’re up for requests, may I please have Inky sleeping on top of Doom Slayer’s tumby? It’s like being on a comfy sea of awesome (Inky’s words, not mine).
ask....and receive.... [also i am SO sorry this took so long fkjadcafn]
The day was Hell, to say the least.
Fighting hordes of demons had demolished his energy, barely leaving enough for him to stumble through the portal back to the Fortress. Vega notices immediately, rushing over to help him stand.
“Goodness,” he comments, “you seem to have had a rough day.”
He is silent in response. Responding would take energy that he simply did not have at the moment.
Vega escorts him through the Fortress, leading him to their shared room. He eases the man down onto the bed, hands never leaving his armor.
“You work on getting the Praetor suit off, if you can,” Vega tells him. “I will take care of it properly later. For now, I am going to fetch some things for you. I’ll be right back.” With that, he turns and pads away, out of the room.
Removing the armor is an intimidating task to him. He wants to simply lie back and sleep, but he knows from experience that sleeping in the armor is rather uncomfortable. Instead, he blearily works at prying the gauntlets off his hands. He fumbles with the buckles feebly, irritated at his own hands. He removes the armor, flexing his hand to stretch out long-compressed muscles. He sets the armor down next to him on the bed before moving on to the chest plate. Soon, the armor is all removed, leaving him bare to the chilly air in the room.
Finally, he succumbs to the temptation of the mattress, lying down ungracefully. The sheets are cool against his clammy skin, the air slightly stirring doing wonders to cool him off.
Vega returns with a glass and a protein bar in his hands. He looks sympathetically to the reclined man, who looks back at him with eyes pleading to let him be.
“I’m sorry, Slayer, but you need to get something in you,” Vega apologizes. “Going to sleep right now would only leave you more exhausted later.” He sits down on the bed next to the Slayer, carefully holding out his offerings.
Begrudgingly, the Slayer struggles to sit up, his back protesting ferociously. He grimaces, something Vega must pick up on, because he shifts in place before speaking. “Would you like a massage? It will ease your discomfort.”
The Slayer nods, taking the glass of water in hand and downing it in one go. He scoots forward to make space behind himself for Vega, blindly grabbing for the bar. Vega slips behind him quietly, reaching out to gently grasp the man’s shoulders. ]
He sighs into the touch. Vega’s hands are delicate against his skin, moving slowly and working at thick knots and kinks in his muscles. He tries to focus on finishing the bar in his hand, but Vega’s ministrations make him slowly melt and slump forward. Vega actually has to grab at him to keep him from slumping onto the floor.
“You’re too exhausted for this,” Vega scolds lightly. “Now you may lay down, and I suggest you do before you pass out.”
The Slayer heeds his advice, flopping back once more to lie in place. Vega moves to curl up next to him, tucked under one muscular arm and pressed against his side. His presence is comforting, reminding him that he is safe and sound where he’s at.
There’s only one thing missing.
Tiredly, he raises his hands to sign out ‘Inky?’ to Vega. Vega looks at him for a moment before chuckling and smoothing a hand over the Slayer’s torso. “Yes, yes, I figured you would ask about her. I can go fetch her, if you would like.” He moves to rise from his spot, the Slayer quickly moving to hold him down.
The man shakes his head. ‘Do not need to.’ He clicks his tongue a few times, throwing one arm over the side of the bed to wiggle his fingers enticingly.
Surely enough, Inky trots in, tail held high and kinked at the end. She immediately makes her way to the marine’s hand, leaning into his touches as he scratches her ears playfully. She starts up a powerful purr, one he can hear even from where he is above her.
“You’ve become quite the whisperer,” Vega quips. He props himself up with one arm to see Inky.
The Slayer retracts his arm, instead patting his stomach gently. Inky looks up at him, crouching down before hopping up onto the mattress and padding onto the spot. She curls up contentedly, legs tucked neatly underneath her body, eyes slitting closed while purring still.
The combination of both Vega’s and Inky’s bodies against him allows him to relax-- genuinely relax, for once. One arm curls around Vega’s shoulders to pull him closer while the other goes to Inky once more to stroke her back.
Vega reaches over him to stroke her as well. Inky relishes in the attention, the purr inside her becoming strong enough to feel where their hands touch her. Her ears splay haphazardly as she relaxes as well.
“Oh, she must be in heaven,” Vega coos. “Good. She deserves it.”
The Slayer nods adamantly. She does, he agrees. She does so much for the both of them without even knowing it. She deserves to be loved.
Eventually, Inky’s head sinks down onto his tummy, breathing evenly. She’s asleep within the next minute, the purr dying off.
“You should follow her example,” Vega chimes to him. “You’re worn out. You need to rest.”
He nods slowly, eyes already drooping heavily.
Vega wriggles into him further, resting his head on the Slayer’s shoulder. “I will be here with you when you wake,” he promises. “Inky likely will be too. You know how she is when she finds a comfy place to nap.”
The Slayer hums thickly, already drifting off. Before he falls asleep completely, he holds one hand up to Vega, signing something.
Vega chuckles smoothly, moving his hand to grasp the Slayer’s in a gentle grip. “I love you too, dear.”
