#sfw.

tells you when he’s leaving you to go to the restroom and gives you a forehead kiss.

who catches you as you stumble walking toward him after having one to many drinks.

worries about how many drinks you’ve had and tells you not to drink so many.

you tell him it’s fine and you aren’t even drunk yet although you are stumbling all over the place.

who find your hiccups cute as you blabber on and on about who knows what. 

“the-n uh she kissed him and the-n hu got together ahh so cuteee~” you let out another hiccup, “stupid hiccups don’t uh let me hu talk!”

he creases your hair, “don’t worry i understand you~” clearly he doesn’t but he wants to reassure you.

has his arms around your waist to keep you close.

once it’s time to leave he’s already taken off your heels and carried you bridal style out the door.

“love youuu~ let’s get married….” nagi smiles, “okay maybe next year then.” you squeal, “really..?” nagi shakes his head no.

you pout and try to leave his grasp. “no i will walk a good future husband will carry their lover.” nagi holds you tighter, “okay okay next year then just wait?” you grab his face and plant a big kiss on his cheek almost nibbling on it.

you giggle as you lay your head on his chest.

who opens the door and sets you in the passenger seat, placing a blanket over you and throw up bag next to you just incase.

who laughs at your random sleep talking.

carries you out the door and changes you into something more comfortable for bed.

takes off your makeup and gives you kisses as a reward for staying still.

“stay still and i will give you another one.” he says as you immediately freeze in place only to feel his lips onto yours again. he giggles and cuddles you until you both fall asleep.

Their shoulders are hunched, their normally deep green skin has turned sallow with worry, and the mohawk-like crest on their head is pushed back into their spine. Normally, you'd poke fun at their dejected state, ask who kicked them out of bed or something equally as juvenile. But they called on you, so you must be trustworthy enough to confide in. "Sure. What's up?"

They swallow hard and look away, towards the ground in a display of shyness you'd never seen on them before. Their face darkens to a deep purple, a color you faintly recognize as embarrassment, but have never seen on them before. "I require…your body heat."

You choke out a laugh before you can stop it, and their golden eyes snap to yours, sharp and narrowed to slits. They're not kidding.

You school your expression into one of neutrality. "That's an odd way to ask for Round Two."

They grumble, "Three, technically. But it does relate."

You push the joking aside, and lean casually against the wall, arms folded. "What is it?"

They clear their throat, gathering themselves. "After our, what did you call it, a trust?"

"Tryst," you laugh.

"Yes, that. I thought I had taken my ovulation blockers, but apparently I did not, so I began my heat cycle shortly afterwards and that's when I began panicking, and--" their eyes go wide and their face turns a deeper shade of  purple before they wave a dismissive hand. "Regardless. It is my fault, but I require your assistance."

Your smile drops, and your arms fall to your sides. You have a feeling what the answer will be, but you still ask, "What is?"

Vek fishes something out of their pocket, and for one terrifying moment you think it's a bomb, and then you kind of wish it was. At first glance it looks like a disco ball, a spherical capsule the size of an apple, off white in color. You lean down to inspect the sphere, and Vek growls and jerks it back away from you. The movement is so sudden and full of emotion you're momentarily stunned, but their expression falls the moment you make eye contact, and they sheepishly offer it to you again. 

"Oh shit." 

Inside are dozens of translucent eggs each the size of a large coin, with squirming little Eilki embryos inside. Vek says nothing in response, their stony silence only broadcasting their shared powerlessness with the situation.

You're barely the age your parents were when they had you--and that was a clusterfuck of epic proportions. You can barely remember to drink enough water, let alone keep track of something else that also needs water. Wait, did Eilki babies need water? Did they need to stay wet like fish eggs? You feel yourself on the verge of becoming hysterical, so you run your hands over your hair a few times, finding it grounding in the slight pull on your scalp.

"So." You laugh shakily and fall back against the wall. "We're parents, huh?"

Your first instinct is to take the thing and chuck it out of the air-lock, but that's a lot of paperwork, and a lot of mortifying explanations. Plus with the way Vek grabbed it away just now, you wouldn't get very far before being eviscerated.

"I've already alerted the Captain," Vek says. "I am disembarking at the next port."

Your stomach drops. "You're…you're leaving?"

They furrow their large brow in confusion. "I sent out a ping for potential host families and got an immediate reply." They pause, studying you with those slitted pupils, then their face lights up in understanding. "Ah, I forgot you humans raise young for an exorbitantly long time." They puff out their chest as if proud. "After hatching we are self-sufficient after a turn of the planet, but incubation before that takes about 45 days. The trade-off with the host family is that I see to the first part since they cannot." Vek looks down as the capsule, turning it gently in their clawed hands. "Which is why I came to you. I cannot produce the necessary body heat. Humans can, and you are the one that I'm-- ahem-- closest to, and so the only one I could ask."

The smile you give them is childish. "You want me to sit on it."

They roll their eyes, the black slitted pupils disappearing behind their lids. "No. Normally we leave them in the daylight and then conserve heat by curling around them at night, but," they look out the window closest to the two of you, expression forlorn. "It is only truly night time here."

You want to point out that there's dozens of heat lamps close to the kitchens, but you're struck by something Vek said after you hooked up. You'd made some gripe or another about them being clingy, and they had a whole speech prepared on the sanctity of sharing body heat. Their culture likened it to a consummation, equivalent to sex itself, how whole clans were connected on that one facet alone, and suddenly the Eilki's propensity for orgies made a whole lot more sense to you. You'd even asked Vek why they don't just lay under one of the heating lamps that the other eilki do, and they scoffed, almost disgusted you'd even suggested it, and then said, "Your warmth is leagues better."

Vek turns the capsule in their hands again. "If you could take care of this, at least during the daily routines, and I would take it at night. That is all I ask."

Their face shifts into a bright shade of yellow, some emotion in them you don't recognize, as their gaze falls to the side. You've never seen them this awkward before, they're normally such a commanding presence. Just this morning they were barking orders and shouting at you to keep to schedule.

But, looking down at the capsule, so tiny in Vek's hands, you realize that this is your problem too. At least, for the next month or so. And you're nothing but an engineer of honor. Leaving Vek out to dry would be so shitty, and although you're sure they could handle it--a two meter high lizard could handle most things--but it wouldn't be right. So you sigh through your nose, push past the spear of anxiety lancing through your gut, and carefully pick up the capsule like it's made of spun glass. You're a temporary parent now, suck it up. "What do I need to do?"

Vek's eyes light up. "How deep are your pockets?"

***

You're elbow deep in the ship's oil reserves, feeling around with your bare hands for the ferrofluid block that keeps escaping your grasp because it's such a shitty feature that--there! Yanking the slippery bastard out of the tank flings your arm in a wide arc, spraying oil over the walls, but you can clean it later because it worked, baby! Since you're the only one in the secondary engine stores you do a little dance to imaginary music to celebrate your victory. Or at least, you think you're alone until you turn to see Vek, covered in a splash of dark brown oil and looking, well, more pissed than usual.

Vek is alone, which is weird because they usually have no less than ten other crew members by their side at all times. They must have come down to talk to you, and gotten caught in the cross-fire.

"Whoops," you laugh, leaning against the slowly draining tank of oil. "Sorry 'bout that." 

Vek stomps up to you, tongue flicking out angrily and their eyes bright enough to start a fire. Grabbing your wrist, currently covered in oil and therefore coating their hand in it, they pull your arm so their furious face winds up an inch from yours. "What are you doing?!" 

Sarcastically, you stroke their face with your free hand, smearing oil across their skin. "I'm doing my job, lieutenant." 

Their face shifts into deep blue--rage--and they grip your wrist tighter. "You think this is a game?!" 

You shoot them a finger-gun. "Life's a game, darlin'." 

Somehow their expression intensifies. This is the talk that got you a reprimand, but it's also the talk that got Vek in that supply closet. Vek's hot when they're mad, all authoritative and commanding but in the best way. You kind of want to make the floor dirtier than it already is. You run a blackened finger over the lapel of Vek's jacket, and they rear back, nostrils flaring. 

"Are you serious right now? You have bigger things to worry about, so to be so careless with--" They gesture to the front pocket of your overalls where you tucked the capsule, and their anger makes sense to you.

You arch an eyebrow. "Chill out. It's buttoned up and safe."

They scoff rolling their eyes condescendingly. "Buttoned up, oh that's lovely."

"It's fine!"

"No thanks to you!"

"I can clean it off for you if you want!"

They release your wrist to throw their arms in the air. "That's not the point!"

"What, you think I should give it to someone else?"

"No!"

"Do you wanna take it?!"

"I! Can't! I need you to keep them alive!"

You roll your eyes and drone sarcastically, "Wow, you really care about me." 

"You fuck up your own life perfectly well, but to drag another into it--" 

"Another like you?!" 

Vek stops halfway, eyes wide, mouth parted. Like you've shocked the words from their mouth. But you don't have time for this bullshit. They said what they needed to say, and you're done. 

"That's what I thought." You shove past them, not caring that you're tracking black into the hall towards the locker rooms.

You're afforded a dozen or so steps before Vek's voice rings out behind you, "Wait!" 

You keep walking.

"I didn't mean it like--" 

"Don't you fucking dare!" 

You slam the door to the locker room, leaning your weight against it in case Vek tries to bust their way in. After a moment though you don't even hear footsteps, so you release the door and start to rip off your work boots. You can't tell if you're disappointed that Vek didn't try to break the door down, or angry they left you alone to deal with this. They always see things through to the end, and leaving you alone and gross has you feeling hollow.

Whatever. You need to get this oil off before it stains your skin.

The locker rooms are like any other, if everything was rendered in chrome. The shower squeaks on like every other shower you've been in, and it takes no time at all to start steaming. You pull the capsule out of your overalls, glaring at your warped reflection as you wait for the urge to smash it to come, but it doesn't. These little shits didn't do anything wrong, except maybe rattle around your chest while you worked. Annoying, but not guilty. There's only one guilty party in this room.

 The capsule is spotless, just like you thought, and you decide to let it get some extra heat by setting it on the shelf inside the shower.

The nice thing about chrome is that it's easy to clean, so you feel zero guilt as you let your dirty overalls fall to the floor alongside the rest of your clothes. The locker rooms have spare bathrobes anyway, so you can run by your office and grab clean clothes later. The second the hot water hits your skin you groan, the tension leaving your muscles almost instantly.

You're watching the oil swirl down the drain, wondering if that's going to come back and bite you later, when you hear the door swing open and closed.

You hear the slow, lumbering steps of a predator, stopping just outside the shower curtain. And only half of you wishes they'd leave. You keep your gaze on the wall opposite the shower curtain, where it eventually falls on the capsule. The inside has fogged up, but you can see the little embryos inside are moving, like they're happy-dancing. Vek had mentioned they have a high tolerance for heat, so you grab the capsule and bring it under the water you set to nearly scalding. They're not so bad, these little dudes, they're kinda funny to watch actually. Feeling them in your pocket the past few days has turned into a comfort.

Behind you, Vek inhales like they're about to start speaking, but you cut them off. 

"I'm not talking to you," you say to the wall.

Then Vek sighs, a long, sad hissing noise that matches the tone of the shower faucet. "Then I will speak to myself, then."

More rustling, and you chance a glance backwards to see that their shadow has moved from in front of the curtain to sitting on the floor beside the stall.

They growl, a short, low note in their throat. "I don't understand why you--" they pause for a deep breath, then another that turns into a heavy sigh. "I don't think you fucked up my life. I did. And I dragged you into it." 

Vek has never admitted to any wrongdoing, ever. They'd rather argue to the end and get the last word than apologize. But then again, you're known for doing the same.

You grimace. Son of a bitch. "It takes two to tango, I guess."

They breathe out a laugh, and you imagine them crossing their arms. "I don't know what that means, but if you're admitting fault, I will say you're the seductive one."

You balk, indignant. "Me?? Who came up to me in the middle of the mess hall asking to bone?"

"I did not 'ask to bone'."

"Oh, my bad, you just waltzed up, right in the middle of my salad, and angrily asked to see me in the meeting room."

"The meeting room where you humiliated me."

You bark a laugh. "Where I called you out on your bullshit!"

"In front of all my colleagues and friends."

"What friends?"

Vek laughs, something you've only heard a handful of times, and it's an infectious noise so you start to laugh with them. The world feels right again, something's slotted back into place. You want this to work between them, so badly, but you never knew how.

The silence is heavy, until Vek asks, "May I come in?" 

You roll your eyes, but there's a smile behind it. "If you must." 

You listen to the shuffling of clothes outside, and step to the side to give Vek room as they step in. They're so large they take up nearly the whole stall, and you sigh out as they wrap their strong arms around your middle.

"I should have trusted you." 

"Yeah." 

"But please understand my worry."

"I'm sorry." You turn in their arms, holding up the capsule between you. "You really like these little guys, don't you?"

"They are a part of us," they say, voice pitched low. "Of course I do." 

"And you think I'm the seductive one?"

Vek nuzzles your shoulder, tracing their snout up your cheek. "You are."

With a sigh, you twist back around and lean into their chest. "I'm still mad at you."

Their voice is even lower when they say, "Allow me to make it up to you."

You fake gasp. "In front of the children?"

"They don't have eyes yet." 

***

For the third time in as many hours, you look over from your bed, concern making your eyebrows draw together. Through the darkness you can make out Vek on their own bed, curled around a bundle of blankets. Their long tail wraps all the way to their head, and faint green light pulses gently from their brow, marking patterns that split like veins over their rough skin. They all converge to a single point at the end of their tail before starting again at their brow, continuing endlessly in a protective circle. You've only seen Vek glow when they're sleeping, but it's never been this vibrant. It's mesmerizing, and you don't want it to stop, but you need to wake Vek up to take the eggs from them, to give them some warmth that you couldn't provide that day.

You'd been working on the ship's flight navigation motherboard, a gargantuan piece of machinery that liked to spit out heat. Normally that'd be great for keeping eggs warm, except command decided to shut off the ship while you worked, and installed a bunch of cooling fans to make the whole area feel like ice. You busted out your jacket despite the sweat rolling down your face, and the whole time you'd been worried about those damned eggs. How long could they go without heat? Vek could withstand temperatures any human could, but they always needed to warm up or risk freezing. Were the eggs the same?

After you'd told Vek how cold the motherboard had been, they merely shrugged and gave you this defeated expression before taking the capsule and muttering, "We can only see how they fare in the morning." Because they don't ask you to care after the day is over.

And now you can't sleep. Not knowing they're cold. Both of them, because holy shit this room is freezing. 

You swing your legs off the bed and pull the blanket over your shoulders. The only sound is the hum of the oxygen circulator and your bare feet against the floor. You step your way over discarded pieces of clothing and the general debris that comes with living in quarters the size of a college dorm room. 

You stop in front of Vek, your nerves making your muscles seize up, which they shouldn't. The two of you have shared this room for nearly a year. You'd seen all you needed to see and more. So why are you stopping now? Maybe it's the eggs, maybe it's something else. Vek has been softer the past few weeks and you don't know how to proceed. They've been shouting less, been helpful, you even heard them offering gentle advice to a crewmember. It's a welcome change, no one is having anxiety attacks at seeing them anymore, but it's still weird. An adjustment.

And this…thing between you two has evolved. It used to just be the occasional glance and a nod--a habit they picked up from you, they've said.  You expected yelling across the room, orders commanded from a place of authority. Curt politeness at best. Distance. It was easy. But then they started sitting with you in the mess hall, or speaking to you about inane things on the bridge, standing just too close to you like a foreboding shadow and giving any overly-friendly crewmember a narrowed gaze. The whole ship thinks you're a couple now, and you're overrun with knowing glances every time Vek pulls you aside to demand an update on your well-being. They're less pushy, like they've calmed down. 

And having Vek, strong, capable Vek, carefully wielding their power instead of throwing it around is a heady feeling, one you're quickly growing addicted to. They don't grip your arm to lead you, but apply a firm hand to your lower back. They don't outright demand you speak to them, but their steady gold eyes tell you there's no room for argument. They gently run their hand over your hair before guiding you down to their groin and keeping you there. 

You're used to the hard and fast, action first questions later kind of interactions. Even before Vek, it was heat, fire, quick fumbling and then it's over. This considerate, gentle firmness they've been offering has your brain short circuiting. The heat is still there, but it radiates through you, a fission reaction through your bones that leaves marks, leaves you wanting it again and again.

But those are specific situations. Certain social rules. It may not apply in the dead of night in your shared quarters.

You shake your head to yourself and turn away from Vek's sleeping form--it's too familiar, too intimate. You didn't even cuddle that long the first time, it shouldn't be any different now. If those eggs die, ot's not your fault. 

You're barely a step away when the blanket pulls around your shoulders. You whip your head around and Vek has a single claw hooked in the corner. Golden eyes glow in the dark as the green fades away. They blink at you slowly, like some kind of predator, and their voice is pitched low with sleep, "Where are you going?"

"I…" you start, hoping for an excuse to come to you, but you glance to the blanket instead, and Vek follows your eyes. You feel foolish. For gods' sake you had sex, and you're getting cold feet over some potentially necessary cuddling.

Vek shifts in the bed, gently pulling the blanket again. "Lay with me. Clothes on this time." You see the flash of teeth in the dark, an offering of a smile.

Again, you feel like a fool. Caught, vulnerable and wanting for something other than sexual gratification. That's what fools want.

"Keep me warm?" Vek asks, more awake yet somehow softer.

They're giving you an out, you realize. Something they've never done before. But…Vek really cares about those eggs. It's really important to them. And Vek, you realize shamefully, is pretty damn important to you.

"Scoot over," you mumble, hoping they can't see well enough in the dark to make out how dark your face is. Maybe the extra heat will help.

It takes a moment of arranging until you're curled around the capsule, and Vek is curled around you. Their scaly skin is cool against yours, even under their massive fluffy blanket, and you're silently thankful that you snuck over for the eggs' sake. Vek is large, curling one strong arm around you and pillowing their head with the other. You're hugging the capsule to your chest, and you feel a bit like a nesting doll, or a perfect little family.

The anxiety you feel around the eggs has lessened over the weeks. You're not so scared you're going to screw something up, not with Vek helping you out at every turn. The little capsule is starting to grow on you, you're glad to see it every morning, you find yourself constantly checking your pocket to make sure it's there. You can handle this. You can be responsible until you hand them off.

Vek tucks your head under the bottom of their snout and their voice reverberates down your back. "I know you didn't ask for this. So again…you have my thanks."

"I mean," you attempt to keep your tone light. "You didn't ask for it either."

"No," they concede. "But I admit I don't mind the idea of having young to look after."

"Isn't that what the interns are for?"

They snicker, the sound coming out like a hiss. They pet your head with one big hand, then return it to your waist. "This is not the line of work to be rearing young, but I am a bit upset to be giving these up."

Your breath catches in your throat, and questions pop like bubbles in your chest. You want to ask why. Why Vek is being so open, why they want to keep these. Why they continue to want your body heat and treat you like you're something precious. But you're afraid of the answer, that you already know it. The other Eilki on the ship, they must be able to smell it on you. The past week you've been met with upturned snouts, but even worse are the understanding glances, the knowing smiles that look horrifying with their jagged teeth. It can't possibly be because of you. You can't keep these, you couldn't handle it.

Vek is stroking your arm with gentle movements, and the emotion that wells up in your chest is too big to name. Your whisper is louder than the oxygen circulator, "I can't be a parent."

Their tongue flicks the top of your head, a gentle caress against your heated skin. "That is alright."

***

You trace your index finger around the edge of one of the eggs, watching the tiny forms move beneath the clear casing. In the light, the eggs are all practically transparent, and you can count the toes of each little eilki--three for the front, four in the back, just like Vek. Seeing it brings tears to your eyes--you can't give them up. The thought of being a full time parent still terrifies you, but these eggs? They've relied on you for a month and a half, they're yours. You dream of they'll look like, green like Vek, or a shade of brown? Their stupid little wiggles, the three sets of twins inside. It's a knife to the gut that you'll never get to find out about any of them, but maybe that's for the best. You fumbled the capsule a few days ago and nearly gave Vek a heart attack. You didn't drop it! But you almost did. Hardly fit for parenting.

The Decanode port is barely that--little more than a worn down metal arm sticking out of a spare moon orbiting a gas giant. You feel tetanus creeping in just looking at it, and this is where you're dropping off the eggs? At this distance, you're beginning to parse out individuals as they mill about the port. There's shops with fabric in muted colors hanging in the doorways, standalone stalls with excitable vendors, and open windows advertising things in so many languages you half expect to see English amongst them. You want to steer the ship as far away as possible. 

You frown in displeasure as it zooms into view from the holding deck, and Vek's hand rests heavy on your shoulder. You hadn't even heard them walk up.

"The family doesn't live here. They reside in a binary star system about three light-years off course."

"They're not good enough," you pout, fighting back the burning in your nose that means tears for about the sixth time that day. You shove the capsule into your front pocket. "Do we really need to give them up?"

Vek's brow raises. "You're asking me this now."

"I mean, with so many it'll be hard for a while but we could--"

Vek lifts you off the floor and holds you tightly in their arms, their voice muffled against your shoulder. "We cannot."

You deflate, your weight dragging you down even with your feet several inches off the floor. "Yeah, I know."

This is a scientific vessel, but it's still too dangerous for children, even if they are fully self-sufficient after a year. You sniff into Vek's shoulder, burying your tears into their uniform--crisp and pressed as always. 

A few groups of crew pass by as the two of you make zero movements away from each other, but you find you don't care if you make a spectacle. If the crew didn't know why the ship stopping at this shitty port before, the gossip spread fast enough to cover it. You've gotten a few extra sympathetic glances over the week, but mostly everyone is refusing to look at you. Looking at Vek is kind of a requirement of living on the ship, but you're maintenance. Practically invisible.

Their face and neck are flushed a deep green, richer and darker than their usual color. After they set you down, their face falls, pulled down by gravity and something heavier as they look out the viewing window towards the port.  

"Let's get ready."

Walking down the ramp to the port feels like a death sentence, until you spot the group of five blue Onens huddled together, waving excitedly at you step onto the port. They're too far away for your translator to pick up specific words, but you can still hear the excitement in their watery language as they talk amongst one another. You switch on the secondary translator at your throat as you approach, offering a hand in greeting, but no smile so you don't scare them with your teeth.

"Thank you for meeting with us."

One of the Onen grabs your hand, their non-Newtonian form first a solid as they squeeze and then a curl of gelatinous goo that settles over your skin. They speak a few words before the translator picks up the rest.

"--a wonderful thing that you give to us, we have raised many of this kind before so don't you worry a bit, they will have all the attention and food they could desire and--"

The Onen is cut off by another of their group, who gestures to their melting hand, currently making its way down your arm. They make a gurgling noise, likely one of surprise, before the whole thing peels off of you with a wet schlocking sound. The previous Onen waves their hand in a gesture of respect, their gaze solid and comforting.

"You are very brave for doing this."

You try not to grimace. Doubt is worming it's way into your mind like a fungus, and you want to step back and away from the group. These aliens raise other young as part of their religion, taking in anything no questions asked. What if there's other species there that these young don't get along with? And not all Onen are altruistic. They could be taking the eggs to eat them for all you know.

But then one of them pulls out a picture communicator, and passes it over the shoulder of the one in front. It works similar to a tablet on the ship, allowing you to swipe through photo after photo of all of them with various hatchlings and young. Every picture oozes happiness, you even catch them sitting in the twin suns with eilki hatchlings. And a big family who could give them the attention they deserve. No egg eating to be found. 

Your hand falls over your front pocket where you tucked the capsule, and you force yourself to say, "So how do we, uh, how do we do this?"

One of the Onen turns their liquid eyes to Vek. "They are far enough along, yes?"

Vek speaks up, their voice tight. "They're able to maintain an internal temperature. When they begin to hatch, simply open to capsule."

They nod their head to you, and you pull the capsule out of its hiding place.

"Wonderful!" One of the Onen remarks, hands reaching out to grab it but you hesitate, tucking it into your chest.

"I…" You're stuck, frozen. There has to be something you're missing. But this is the right choice. This is the right choice. You just need to move. "I don't…"

Vek steps into you, allowing you to subtly lean into their weight. They squeeze your shoulder in reassurance. "It's okay."

Slowly, in halting movements, you stretch out your arm like you're waiting for the capsule to explode. Just as slowly, with great care and steady hand, the Onen places their palm underneath as support, and waits patiently for you to finally let go.

Releasing your fingers feels like cracking your bones, but at the same time, as you watch all the Onen's expressions fall to the capsule and soften from simple patience complete and utter awe, the weight that's been hanging over you for so long lifts like a veil from your shoulders. It had you covered like a shroud, fraying your nerves with worry and despair over the unknown. But now you know they're going to be okay, and despite the gnawing hole in your chest, you can finally breathe. The Onen are perfect, you couldn't have chosen better yourself. You fruitlessly wipe at the trail of tears as they profusely thank both of you, and you forget clearing your face altogether when you watch them all walk away. The translator picks up pieces of their conversations--ideas for names, the best food. Those little shits are going to grow up so fuckin' loved.

They round the corner, and you're surrounded by patrons again. Vek pulls you into another bone-crushing hug, their breathing is short and they've turned that dark green all over. They feel solid, stable like always, something you've both needed throughout this whole ordeal.

"This sucks," your voice is muffled by their heavy jacket, but your message comes across all the same.

Vek huffs through their nose. "I know," and their hand falls across your shoulder as you head back to the ship. 

***

It's a shitty week all around, between your own head and the ship pretty much falling apart all at once. Vek hadn't been faring much better, dragging their feet and muttering commands like the wind had been sucked from their sails. So you blame your rash decision on emotional turmoil, and pulled them into your room for something quick. But quick turned into desperate and needy, built up tension bleeding out of your every move as Vek fell back into harsher habits.

But a distraction was what you both needed. Your head is more clear, and you've cried enough for the past week. Vek's breathing is even underneath you, finally calm after so many days on edge between hysteria and depression. Their direction was welcome, concrete words for you to follow between bouts of the kindness you'd gotten so used to over the weeks. They'd kissed the claw marks they left on your thighs and your heart melted.

Now your quarters are dark and quiet, trapping you in a liminal space where the outside world doesn't exist anymore. It leaves space for thoughts to flow, emotions on their heels but no longer as big, no longer as unmanageable. A question that had been sitting in the back of your mind makes itself present.

"Would you ever…want to be a parent?"

Vek glances at you sidelong. "I'd rather not go through this whole ordeal again."

"No, I mean…" You waffle for a moment too long. Vek grabs your chin in their hand and forces you to make eye contact. "I guess…"

Their eyes glow against the dark. "Yes?"

"To keep." The rest of the implication is in your voice, you hope.

They release your jaw, turning back and laying flat. Their face shifts into a darker hue--in the low light you can't for sure tell which, but you have a guess they're turning purple. "I understood that you do not want young."

"I mean, not right now. But…maybe someday?"

"Do not compromise yourself for me."

"I'm not." You press your hands flat to their chest. "I always thought I'd be alone. Raising them, I mean. And that would be a disaster. Absolute fuckery of a parent. But with you…I don't think it would be so bad. I'll never want, like, a million of them like we had. But…maybe just one? Someday? I dunno." You fiddle with your hands. "We're…kind of good together."

Vek lays their hands on top of yours, stilling them as they look at you. "You're considering this."

You flush. "I-I'm just talking."

The hands over yours wrap around your fingers, and they flick their tongue to your lips. "You would make a fine parent."

You feel like you're turning purple under their gaze. "In the mean time though…Keep taking those blockers?"

"You tell me when to stop. And if that day never comes, I will simply have you all to myself."