//I wrote more domestic fluff because I’m a sap XD
You’ve never really been an evening troll, not really, and especially not when you don’t have a shift coming up to be awake for.
Certain other trolls do not share this sentiment, unfortunately.
A warm hand slides up your hip, slick with sopor. “Criina, beloved,” Equius purrs, nuzzling into the back of your neck, and your matesprit is smart, you’ll give him that, because that tone of voice is Equius’s “I’m going to ask you to do something to me that I find lewd” voice and it always gets your attention, but you know what he’s doing and you’re not having it this time, you want to sleep in.
“Mmf.” You reply, eloquent as fuck, turning over and burying your face in your arms.
“Beloved, you need to get up. You’re going to ruin your sleep schedule again and be miserable if you don’t.”
You know he’s right. You know he is, but you just really don’t care at the moment; you’re happily comfortable in the sopor and --
“HolyfuckingshitEquiusputmedown --!” You shriek as he scoops you up like you weigh nothing and slings you over his shoulder and carries you into the ablutionsblock. You only stop wriggling out of fear of being dropped, because sopor is slippery as hell, and satisfy yourself slugging Equius in the shoulder once he sets you down in the shower. This, also, is a poor choice, and just leaves you with sore knuckles, “I hate you,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away from him.
“We’ll have two very disappointed kismesises on our hands then, I’m afraid,” Equius replies, and you regret the night that he ever figured out how to sass back at you, the jerk, “And I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed as well, beloved, seeing as I still feel nothing but the reddest pity for you,” he informs you, murmuring it in your ear as he reaches past you to turn the shower on.
...okay, really sweet, romantic jerk. Still a jerk. You pout, ignoring him as warm water sluices the sopor off of you and down the drain. Equius doesn’t seem to mind, as he just chuckles and kisses your cheek and leaves you to finish washing off. You huff and scrub off the rest of the sopor and wash your hair out because you still haven’t quite ever stopped feeling like you need to look at least mildly presentable for Lord Imoogi, and you doubt you ever will.
There’s a clean towel hanging on the rack when you get out, and your paints are sitting on the counter by the sink. You snag one of Equius’ hair ties and pull your hair out of your way to paint up, and then stride out of the bathroom with nothing but your paints on because your uniform is currently scattered across Equius’ respite block.
You wriggle back into your clothes because tempting as it is to watch Equius blush and stutter, he does have to go on shift and you don’t want to make him have to change his uniform because he sweated through it. Or, well. Anything else. Remove the temptation, as it were. Admittedly, more for your sake than his.
Equius is still sitting on the couch when you come out of the respiteblock. You glance at the clock and frown. “You’re going to be late.”
“I know,” he tells you, and you resolutely do not squeak as he draws you over to him and kisses you, “Now I’m going.”
By the time the door shuts behind him, you realize you’re smiling like an idiot, and Equius has somehow managed to get you to forgive him for the rude wake up call without actually apologizing, the stupid, pitiful bastard. You’ll get him for that, somehow, you think. For now, though, you’re awake, so you might as well finish getting ready before Lord Imoogi needs you to come be their personal murderclown at someone.