here there be ficlets
Characters: Belial, Vulpes [thisaccident]
Content: Contains slash, mentions of violence, and it's Vulpes and Belial. :|
He'd almost forgotten how long the healing process took on the mortal plane. Back home, even the most severe injuries took only a few days to heal, if that. In Icarus especially, with its strange, unpredictable gods and water-thin Black, he couldn't say how long it had been since he'd even been back. How long he'd been stuck in that bed, how many times he'd drifted in and out of feverish sleep.
He couldn't say how long Vulpes stayed at his side, either. But every time he woke, the man was there, checking his bandages and forcing a foul tasting liquid down his throat the moment he looked conscious enough to drink it down without choking. Belial couldn't even find the energy to protest.
A few times Belial found him reading, the pile of books and files on the nearby desk growing every time he woke. Once he woke to the worrying scene of Vulpes fighting off one of those fucking Fenris - probably come up to finish the job Azrael had started, no doubt - but the hallucination passed, leaving the Legionnaire practicing his blows on nothing but air.
He wasn't there the last time Belial woke up, slick with a cold sweat and crying out from the damn fever dreams. At least, he was no longer glued firmly to the demon's bedside. Belial didn't realize he had sat up, looking for him, until he was being firmly pushed back down, didn't notice the hand on his chest until it had him pinned back against the mattress and sent knife sharp lines of pain across his ribs.
"Belial."
He didn't even notice Vulpes hovering above him until he lashed out, claws digging into the arm that held him. Not until he felt the man tense up beside him, and the brief, sharp scent of human fear pulled him fully back to his senses.
Belial let go almost at once. Then he grabbed the arm again half a beat later, when it didn't do the same. His claws sank in even deeper until finally he heard Vulpes take a sharp breath, and finally seem to take the hint. The pressure on the demon's chest let up, though the hand stayed in place while Vulpes leaned over him, looked him over, checked that nothing had reopened. An irritated shove was required before the man would move, tired as the action was, and that time Vulpes kept his distance, though even as he lay back down at Belial's side his cold blue eyes never left lava-glass black.
Then he opened his mouth again, and asked that question before Belial could warn him otherwise.
"How are you feeling?"
What he wanted to say, he was thankfully lucid enough to keep to himself. The low growl that followed, while he dug the heel of his hand into his eyes to try and rub the sleep away, was a little harder to hold back.
"Alive," he muttered after a moment, voice clipped short. "Which is certainly an improvement, but I've had worse." Much worse, when he thought about it. But was an era ago.
An odd little smile was what he got in return. That thin, vaguely amused look, that the demon could never quite read. "That I don't doubt. But you're safe for now."
"And I suppose you're going to be the one that makes sure of that?" Belial asked with a soft snort. After he went and showed every creature in Hell that their precious princes could be toppled just as easily as any of their kin. That painted a pretty little target on the backs of all of them, his own shining in neon.
This time, though, the only answer he received was a murmured "get some rest" as Vulpes turned back onto his other side, and Belial wasted no time in reaching over to wrap an arm around the man's waist and pull him close - an action that took a surprising amount of effort - and press up against his back. The warmth of another body, the beat of a heart and even sound of breathing....none of it promised safety, no. But the simple reassurance of life, that he was still alive....
Familiar muscles tensed and jumped under his palm as he smoothed his hand across Vulpes' stomach, but a heavy hand settling over his cut the exploration short. Belial probably would have dug his claws into his belly for that, just on principle, until he felt the man's fingers lace loosely through his, and felt him tug his hand up to hold firmly against his chest. He could only guess that the small squeeze was meant in some sort of comfort. It felt more like a warning, and one he heeded after a brief debate.
The steady heartbeat was even more noticeable under his hand. And after a few long moments, Belial settled for just resting his head against Vulpes' shoulder, tried to content himself with just holding, and listening.
And that time, when he finally fell asleep, he stayed that way until morning.