sexus mini event day 1 - back to back | Haxus/Sendak | 840 words | contains mild mention of injuries | @haxusminievent
Sendak glares up at the fightercraft ceiling, his chest searing from more lacerations than he cares to remember, his left shoulder secured in a tight brace. It’ll be two more vargas till their ship docks with the main fleet, where there’s a proper medwing instead of two makeshift cots in the weapons bay.
“Hax,” Sendak growls. He can’t move much- not without dislocating another rib at least- but he lifts the arm that isn’t bandaged, stretches over his shoulder to where his mate is laying behind him. He splays his fingers, knuckles bumping against Hax’s collarbone. Haxus gives an irritated click- seeing Sendak nearly perish does tend to put him in a sour mood- but he relents to a softer hiss as Sendak scratches his shoulder with a claw.
“I don’t want to mess you up,” Haxus mutters, when Sendak nudges for his hand. While Haxus missed the worst of the explosion, he’d been hit with a shot of what appeared to be oil instead, the liquid seeping through his armor and causing him to scream in agony. They’d drenched him in a heavy field-antitoxin, but Hax’s short fur, for the most part, was still rough and sticky with black goo.
“I think I can handle it,” Sendak says gruffly. Haxus sips a breath and holds it, and Sendak has the sinking feeling that the antitoxin may not have eased the venom’s sting quite as thoroughly as Hax made out.
“It’ll be a different story when I’m pulling knots out of your fur,” Haxus snaps, cuffing his fingers into Sendak’s all the same. His shoulders slacken as he exhales.
“Mmh,” Sendak shrugs, agreeing. Haxus twitches his fingers, something close to a squeeze, and Sendak turns his head so he can breathe-in his mate’s scent.
“I thought we might be spending this journey in an argument,” Haxus admits after a moment, slightly clipped. His grip tightens a little, bristling for one just in case, and Sendak huffs out a laugh.
“Oh, we’ll be having an argument,” he manages. “You ignored a direct command to retreat. I’m just-”
He swallows as a throb of pain spikes up from his shoulder, glad at least that Haxus can’t see him wince.
“-saving the best for last,” Sendak says thickly, trying to joke. The ache across his chest has sharpened too, whatever adrenaline got him back to the ship must slowly be wearing off.
“I didn’t hear the order. The blast knocked out my communication device,” Haxus says curtly, harsher every time his voice falters. “What a terrible shame I was still around to save you.”
“Looked fine when I wrenched you out of your suit,” Sendak grunts, shivers as a cold bead of sweat traces his jaw.
“Your injuries must have clouded your perception,” Haxus returns. “You’ll find the equipment log report clearly details the damage.”
Sendak's glad Hax can’t see his attempt not to smile either.
“Here,” Haxus whispers, and Sendak feels another emergency blanket being brusquely tucked over him. Sendak’s usually well-able to regulate his temperature, but the weapons bay isn’t nearly as insulated as the ship’s bridge. He’d been trying to hide his trembling for Hax’s sake, and perhaps Hax held off noticing as long as he did for his.
“Much warmer,” Sendak murmurs. His hand feels shaky in the smaller galra’s too, but Hax firms his grasp to make up for it.
“Here…” Haxus says again, and he shuffles over on his cot, crawls himself forward on his elbows and lays his head on Sendak’s good shoulder. The lack of space makes for an awkward position for Hax, but Sendak knows better than to point it out. When he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine they’re simply curled in bed together, the prickling in his arm no more than Haxus having fallen asleep on it.
“Is it bad?” Sendak mutters under his breath. They’ll know for sure soon, but Haxus, at least, had been conscious enough to hold him down for the brace.
“No,” Haxus hisses, his snarl a little too quick. His features harden to a grimace, and Sendak would rather receive the wound several times over than see such an expression from his mate again. He lifts his injured hand, strokes his thumb over Haxus’s brow and ears. Sendak can’t feel much in his fingertips, but Hax’s ear flicks gently forward, in the way that it does when he’s comforted. Sendak repeats the familiar gesture, Hax turns and presses his face into his palm, Sendak’s fingers splaying beneath Hax’s cheek without having to think about it.
He likes that his muscles remember this, better even than holding a blaster or a sword.
“I’m so angry you came back,” Sendak whispers after a time. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”
Hax holds him until the tic before their ship rejoins the fleet, makes a near indiscernible gesture with one hand as the medics arrive. It’s the one they use on quiet stakeouts, or in briefings, or apparently, when they’re both too half-dead to speak.
