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Ulaz is deceptively unassuming, average height for a galra, but with long limbs that make him look taller than he actually is and lacking the thick coat of fur typical of even the majority of hybrid galra.
There’s a certain air about him that coils around Thace and compels him to look. Watch. For those long powerful legs to spring his mate at him – full weight, full force, full speed.
Thace’s build makes him better suited to weather the force, but that’s exactly what Ulaz would expect. Instead, he takes a page from Ulaz’s book and catches the momentum of the pounce, redirecting it.
The movement gives him leave to turn into it and face Ulaz. There’s a precious window of time between Ulaz landing and Ulaz shifting his weight. Thace moves into his space so he has to step back to balance himself, forward with his inner leg, so that he can hook his ankle around Ulaz’s leg as he steps back.
The maneuver tilts Ulaz back for enough that firm hands on his shoulder can direct him off balance. Then, Ulaz is tucking his chin against his sternum, rolling with the weight of the both of them tumbling towards the map and kicking out to throw the center of Thace’s weight.
Thace lands flat on his back, disoriented for a moment and he has just enough time to turn onto his front to make for a second pounce at Ulaz before there’s a weight on his back, pressing his chest against the ground.
Ulaz has those clever legs wrapped around him, with a firm hand pinning his wrists to the mat, his free hand between his shoulder blades a reminder of his presence as he sits on his back, panting softly. “Yield.”
“I yield.”
Ulaz’s weight shifts on Thace’s back and presses a kiss to his shoulder as he rolls off him. Thace coughs out a laugh and turns onto his back to lie there for a moment and stare up at the lights. When he sits up, he finds Ulaz propped up on his elbows.
The tufted tip of his tail flicks contentedly and he blinks slowly, fondly at Thace. Thace grins and shoots forward to bat at his tailtip, snapping his teeth playfully near it. To which Ulaz makes a most undignified noise and shoots up, shoving his face away. “A cub! My mate is a fucking cub. I swear.”
The doctor rolls up onto his feet and offers Thace a hand, helping him off the mat. He groans low in his throat and shuffles his weight from side to side, stretching to work out the stiffness in his arms. “No,” he whines nuzzling Ulaz’s shoulder, “Ancient. Decrepit. Do you hear that horrid grinding noise? Those are my bones, ‘laz. My bones.”
Ulaz slings an arm around his shoulders, purrs in those short little broken bursts that Thace knows he’s so self-conscious about and Thace rumbles back fondly in response and settles a hand on his waist.
There’s food waiting for them in the mess hall. Typically, they have a tradition of presenting one another with food when they’re reunited after missions apart, but there’s too much happening and too many reasons they should wait, so they content themselves with the convenience food.
There’s a place for them, wherever they sit. Their own place that they bring with them to settle into wherever the chance makes itself known. Ulaz is seated across from Thace a hand resting on the table beside his so their fingertips just brush. He has one foot on the bench by Thace’s thigh, the other relaxed in the space between them so they can press their ankles together.
Ulaz eats slowly, chews his food carefully, thoughtfully even, like he ought to ponder over every bite. He’s the slowest eater Thace has ever met, but it’s all the more time for Thace to watch him, fondly. He reaches over to start picking the Ucote root out of Ulaz’s dish, exchanging them for the Acleramin seeds from his own dish.
The first time he’d tried to provide food for Ulaz, it had been during one of Ulaz’s three-day infirmary binges, holing himself up in the medical wing perfecting stitches and comparing samples and cross referencing academic works.
Ulaz had been a deca-phoeb or two into service as a medical officer and Thace newly promoted had taken his chance to bring something to the infirmary under the guise of not letting Ulaz starve to death surrounded by medical equipment.
Ulaz had turned it down with a scowl (deca-phoebs later, Ulaz would tease Thace about how wilted he’d looked in response to the rejection) and as Thace made his retreat, Ulaz called to him from the corner of the room. I can’t stand Ucote root. If you’re going to do this, you might as well know what you’re doing.
The following day, Thace caught Ulaz in the hall and passed him a container, filled to bursting with Ucote root (deca-phoebs later, Thace would tease Ulaz about how affronted and offended he looked in response to the offering). And before Ulaz could dump it on Thace’s head, he was presented with a second container – filled a reasonable amount with a meal free of Ucote root.
Ulaz presses the side of his foot against Thace’s. “Pick up your jaw. You’re salivating all over the place and you haven’t even touched your meal.” Thace grins devilishly and reaches out to take a messy handful of his food and shovel it into his mouth. “A cub!” Ulaz groans and covers his face. “I have never met this man in my entire life. I don’t know him.”
Ulaz is done with his meal by the time Thace has worked his way through an eighth of his own. His medical officer reaches across the table to pick up his hand and turn it up so he can trace the rough pads of his hands. “Not hungry?”
Thace shrugs, purrs lowly and opts to take a sip of water instead. “Too excited. Come on. Let’s turn in for today.” Ulaz stacks their trays and deposits them on the cart for whichever unfortunate initiate is on kitchen duty. “I’m not sure if I should be excited or terrified.” Thace offers only a grin and response and squeezes Ulaz’s hand.
Their room is familiar. Small – as most of the living spaces are on the base, but they’d managed to secure one of the larger rooms. Spacious enough that two galra could comfortably fit with one another in the confines of the space they’re afforded, but not so empty that the absence of one or the other tenant would leave the area feeling dangerous.
The artificial lighting of the base puts the time near a sunset, a warm glow filtering in through the window projections. It casts playful shadows over their skin as they tumble into their shared nest, tangled in one another.
Thace shuts his eyes tight against the last vestiges of light throughout he projection and hums deep in his chest while Ulaz rests his chin against his stomach and feels the rumbles, echoes them in short broken bursts from his own throat.
“Look at us,” Ulaz grumbles, turning onto his side and pressing himself against Thace, “It’s almost or bedtime and it’s still light. We are so old.” Thace laughs and it spreads warmth through his entire body. He turns so Ulaz can slot neatly against him, tangles their limbs back together. “Shut up and go to sleep then, old man.”
For all the jest, it’s some time before either of them slips into unconsciousness, occupying the time staring at one another with brief recesses of blinking slowly back and forth until one of them forgets to open his eyes again and his breath evens out into a steady rhythm.
Thace’s eyelids are heavy as Ulaz scoots up to press his forehead against Thace’s chest. “Mm,” he says and reaches out to find his mate’s shoulder. “Thace. Up. Come on.” He groans again and deposits his arm firmly over his eyes instead. He’d been hoping for lazy morning, but it’s clear to him they’re getting hangover morning. He didn’t remember partaking in any recreational substances.
“Quiznak, you’re warm. Thace. Hey.” There’s another firm push from Ulaz. “Mm,” Thace says and blinks heavy lids open a fraction. Ulaz presses his forehead against Thace’s and Thace can feel his brows furrow. “Really warm,” Ulaz amends and he’s untangling himself from the nest before Thace can think to stop him.
He catches the sound of Ulaz rustling around – too loud – and the dip of the bed as he returns. “Open.”
Open what? He goes to ask as something long and slender presses against the underside of his tongue. “Mm?” he says and opens his eyes long enough to see a thermometer sticking out of his mouth. “’re we playing doctor?”
Ulaz grumbles something and swats lightly at his thigh before leaning back over him. “You have a fever, Thace.”
“Cause you’re just too damn hot, Doc. What’s the diagnosis?”
“Flu.”
“Laz, that’s the least sexy thing you could choose.”
Ulaz lets out this suffering sigh and Thace laughs quietly, coughs on it. He reaches up to pull the thermometer out of his mouth and sit up to greet his mate properly. His world spins as he does and he reaches up to cradle his head. “Did we have drinks last night?”
His medical officer has his hands settled on Thace’s shoulders and he’s pressing him back into their nest. “Okay. Let’s just lay you back down for a bit. No, we didn’t have drinks. But you have the flu so I’m going to go mix up an antiviral to get you back on your feet.”
“I’m just a little warm, ‘Laz. Relax. Lay back down with me.”
Ulaz is reaching over him again to ease his eyelid up to get a look at his eyes. “You’ve been exhibiting all the symptoms. Fever, aching muscles, loss of appetite, fatigue. You didn’t finish your meal yesterday. And you’re congested now.”
“I’m not congested.”
“Then take a deep breath for me.”
Ulaz presses his hand over Thace’s mouth before he can open it to humor his mate and he opts to inhale through his nose instead. Finds it much harder than he remembered – and quite a bit less effective. He groans and his arm protests as he reaches up to push Ulaz’s hand away.
“Alright. Alright. You proved your point.”
Thace can see Ulaz through a sliver of vision, kneeling on the bed, hands pressed against his thighs and tailtip flickering irritably. “Love – you didn’t know. It happens. It’s not that bad. I’ll just ride it out. No need to use up supplies.”
“I’m a doctor. I should have noticed.” Ulaz pulls the blankets back up over Thace and pats his chest lightly before nuzzling his jaw. “I’ll be right back.” Then he’s out the door and Thace is left under a pair of blankets, pondering his foul luck.
It’s simultaneously too hot and too cold under the blanket and Thace can’t decide whether he wants to pile on more blankets or shove them all off the bed.
He thinks he’ll weather the storm under the blankets. If he gets too warm later, he can relocate them to the floor. Later comes within the next five doboshes when the texture and the weight of the blankets are setting off every last one of his nerve endings and they’re unceremoniously thrown off of him and onto the floor.
A decision he immediately regrets because the cold air in the room is about as much of a shock as Ulaz sliding his icicles of hands under his shirt in the middle of the night. Though… Thace wouldn’t mind Ulaz’s hands on him right now.
He huffs his discomfort and turns himself reluctantly onto his front so he can bury his face in the pillow. A second bad decision in what he thinks is about to be a long list of bad decisions, considering it’s all the harder to breathe when his face is shoved onto a pillow and his diaphragm has to fight the whole weight of his body for a breath.
He settles for dragging the pillow to tuck it under his chest and using his arms as a pillow instead. Sleep doesn’t quite come again, but a persistent headache does and he’s groaning when Ulaz finally – finally comes back.
“Promise you’ll never leave me again, ‘laz. Promise me.” He can hear the quiet rumble of amusement from the door and Ulaz sets something down on the desk. Thace can feel the dip of his weight on the edge of the bed and Ulaz’s hand (Thace can tell it’s his because it’s fucking freezing) strokes gentle circles down his back.
“Never ever,” he responds and leans over to kiss his shoulder. “You’re still warm. I have an antiviral for you and then some soup and some water.”
“I don’t need an antiviral,” he says while Ulaz parts the fur on his arm and cleans the area with an antiseptic.
“No?” Then there’s the click and subsequent sting of an injection in his shoulder. “Whoopsies. My hand slipped.”
Thace whines at him, deep in his throat and Ulaz chuckles, brushing his fur back into place. “Such a cub.”
Ulaz lingers there just a moment longer before he helps Thace sit up a bit, propping him up on the pillows and picking the blanket back up to drape over his legs, an offer to nudge them away or pull them up. He leaves them where they are for the time being.
The soup is nothing special, meat based with a few vegetables. Galra are omnivorous, though they heavily favor meat. There’s a fondness in Ulaz’s eyes as he feeds him carefully. Provisioning on a whole new level.
Despite how little he’d had the day before, he isn’t exactly hungry and too quickly, he finds he can’t find any more of the soup. Ulaz manages to get another few spoonfuls in him before he sets the bowl aside to let him rest.
Ulaz pulls a pair of textbooks off of their bookshelf and brings them back to bed and Thace resituates himself to rest his head in Ulaz’s lap while he reads and absently cards his fingers through his fur.
“Out loud,” he asks, not long after and Ulaz laughs quietly and dutifully reads aloud passages of dry medical studies.
The next time he wakes up, it’s only for a few ticks. Ulaz has set the books aside and he has his chest pressed against Thace’s back, arms looped around his middle, filling the silence between them with his familiar broken purr.
They’re both jarred into wakefulness with a sharp knock at their door and Ulaz untangles himself from their nest to stumble to his feet, grumbles and sways for a moment before he stiffly crosses their room to the door, jerking it open sharply.
Thace doesn’t catch the entire conversation, but what he does hear reminds him why Ulaz makes for such a terrifying opponent.
“You want me to leave my ailing mate. You want me to postpone his comfort, get dressed, and walk all the way to the infirmary because some initiate dosed herself with some bad Izeodarin? That is what you want me to do?”
His tail is lashing and Thace thinks if the fine velvety short furs all over his body were longer, he’d be very visibly bristling.
“Yes. That’s what I thought.” The door is shut rather firmly and Ulaz turns back to Thace.
“Defending my honor are we?”
“Defending our right for a moment of peace.” Ulaz presses his hand back to Thace’s forehead and grimaces. “You’re still heating up.”
He picks a towel up off of the tray and heads into the small washroom to dampen the cloth and wring it out, setting it on Thace’s forehead. The dampness is unpleasant, but the cool, soothing effect wins out his discomfort.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
Thace reaches out to take Ulaz’s hand and pull him back towards the bed. “You’re mother henning, Ulaz. I’m alright. Don’t wear yourself out.”
The medical officer grimaces and huffs, settling back down on the bed, groaning as he does.
“How are your legs?”
“Numb.” He brings one up onto the bed, flexing his toes and rubbing the tingling out of it.
“You should have moved me if you needed to move.”
Ulaz shrugs, keeps his focus on easing the soreness from his legs. “I didn’t notice until I went to lie down.” Thace can’t tell whether Ulaz is trying to spare him any guilt or if he truly was so absorbed in his texts that he hadn’t noticed. Both are equally likely.
Ulaz remains close for the remainder of the day, occasionally opting to work at the desk. He brings food and water like clockwork and lets him decide how much he’s willing to partake each time.
It only occurs to him later that Ulaz offers food and water at shorter intervals with just enough time in between that Thace feels obligated to have at least one sip of whatever he’s offered just to appease Ulaz. Of course, he isn’t expected to finish the glass of water or the, now thermos of soup, but he’s made progress through both. One sip at a time. Damn clever medical officer.
Ulaz mostly leaves him be when he sleeps, though Thace has vague memories of a cold hand brushing over his forehead or Ulaz helping him up and encouraging him to have a sip of water from time to time.
It’s a blur of events. Water and soup at certain intervals, Ulaz’s hand against overheated skin, and periods of towel and no towel. One event that Thace remembers vividly, though, is when he wakes in a headache haze with the taste of fever on the back of his tongue.
And then the nausea takes over and he’s emptying the contents of his stomach into the trash bin next to him. Ulaz, curled up at his back is awake in an instant, wrapping an arm around his middle to maneuver him into a more comfortable position, brushing back the fur around his ears and jaw.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re alright.”
He doesn’t remember exactly how long he’s hunched over the edge of the bed like that, the acrid scent filling his nose as he trembles in Ulaz’s arms. It’s hard to breathe when his throat is burning and his nose is congested.
The projection has faded from pitch night into sunrise by the time he’s settled down enough for Ulaz to bring him a glass of water and dispose of the trash bin. He sips carefully at the water, watches as Ulaz moves around their room. Thace is asleep, again, wrought with chills by the time Ulaz returns to nest and curl around him.
He wakes mid-afternoon to Ulaz stroking his upper arm, a patch of light and warmth blanketing them and he’s still sniffling, but he’s starting to get full breaths in again and the nausea has settled and his head isn’t screaming pressure-pain anymore.
He manages to stomach the entirety of the next serving of soup that Ulaz brings him, downs water without a complaint. The fever lingers, along with the last vestiges of congestion. By nightfall, he’s managed to get on his feet and wander around the room a little bit.
Thace wraps his arm around Ulaz’s middle, lifts him up to drop him into the nest, wriggles around to pull the blankets up over them.
“What’s the prognosis, doc? How long do I have? No – no, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. Just – honor my dying wish. See, doctor, I’ve always had this fantasy—”
Ulaz shoves Thace’s face away from his and lets out a wheezy laugh. “Thace,” he chides through breathy giggles and he groans, propping himself up onto his elbows and rolling over to sprawl across Thace’s chest.
He wraps his arms around his mate and presses his nose against the top of his head. “Get some rest, ‘laz. You’ve been taking care of me almost all week.” He strokes Ulaz’s cheek, revels in the familiar texture of the finer hairs there. They’re familiar there in each other’s arms.
The first thing Thace notices upon waking up is that his head doesn’t hurt and – yes. He can breathe through his nose. He shall never forget this feeling again so long as he lives. He’s taken it for granted for far too long.
“Rise and shine, doc.”
Ulaz groans and tangles Thace in his limbs, warm hands rubbing along his chest. Thace raises a brow and leans down to nuzzle his forehead, and find one of his hands, running the inside of his thumb over Ulaz’s knuckle. He turns his mate’s palm up and presses his face to it.
“’Laz,” he says, and his mate grumbles half a response. Thace presses his forehead to Ulaz’s and he can’t help but laugh.
“Ulaz. You’re warm.”
Ulaz’s eyes snap open and his ears go back.
“Quiznak."