Work Text:
The night broke uniform slightly; at least that's what Schlatt willed himself to believe as he took rare glances out of his office window to observe the rain. However, the man couldn't focus on the pleasantry for long. He turned his chair using his foot, putting himself back facing his large work desk, several assortments of paperwork in half hazard positions covering it.
He leaned forwards and rested an elbow on the table, running the attached hand through his hair, and he fumbled with a pen in his other. Blinking down at the paper in front of him for a moment, he managed a grip on his pen and signed past his hundredth signature of the night.
"It's 2am," Spoke a sudden presence. Schlatt peered up at the door, finding a winged man standing in its frame, loose shorts hanging around his hips, and an oversized shirt shifted more to one side. That's how the vice president, the president's husband, walked around the white house after hours.
Schlatt didn't respond; he only took a deep breath and shifted his position to look down at the papers again. His eyelids felt heavy, like he would sump over in sleep at any moment. If it was 2am, then he had been at this for more than ten hours. He wasn't even halfway done.
"Pumpkin," Quackity whispered, so lightly that Schlatt barely heard, as he walked over to the desk. He came to his lover's side, putting a hand gently on the male's shoulder. "Come to bed," It wasn't an offering, it was a demand, and Schlatt was too exhausted to argue. He clicked his pen close, set it down on the desk, and stood, pushing his chair back a few inches as he did.
Once he was stood, he found himself in Quackity's arms, the shorter man's head pressing into the loose tie against his chest. The horned man wrapped his arms around his husband's waist before they trailed up his back to touch at the bases of his wings. Quackity let out a soft hum, his hands trailing up to Schlatt's head, fingers stocking through his dark brown locks before finding his ears. Tanned digits gently stoked at his soft goat ears, a quiet noise of content coming from the shorter male as he saw his husband react.
Schlatt tightened his arms lock around his partner, his hands lightly gripping at the man's wings as a wave of soft pleasure and comfort eased over him. The soft love at his ears continued on, Schlatt soon finding his hands feeling required to gently stroke down the fluffy feathers of his husband's wings. Quackity let out a soft chuckle at the action.
"Mi dulce pequeño cabra," The winged man cooed, followed by a yawn. Schlatt tiredly grinned, shifting himself slightly to press his face into the side of the other man's head.
"Don't go saying things I can't understand, cutie. I'm too tired to remember what that means," The president murmured, making Quackity let out a light giggle.
"It's what you are," He explained, "My sweet little goat." Quackity leaned back slightly, looking up at his lover. Schlatt met his gaze, blinking into the other's eyes before closing them and finding their lips against each others.
Nothing raunchy; they were both too exhausted for that. They pressed light kisses together for a minute, Quackity still distractedly rubbing the other's ears before he started letting out soft giggles between the pecks. A hand trailed down Schlatts back as they both pulled back slightly. The shorter grinned brightly as he looked up.
"Your little tail wagging," He commented as he wrapped his hand around the fluffy moving thing. Schlatt annoyedly smirked at him, eyes half-lidded and his eye bags very visible, but his gaze was filled with love, his pupils larger than usual as he stared at something he found pleasant. The moment was cut short by Schlatt suddenly taking a hand from the other's wing to cover a large yawn with his fist. He wiped his eyes in an attempted to aid the wateriness but failed.
"Bedtime for mi dulce pequeño cabra," Quackity hummed, taking his hands away from Schlatt for a moment, much to the man's disappointment.
"I already forgot what that means," Schlatt whispered as he found his partner's hand entangling his own and leading him out of the office.
"My sweet little goat," Quackity hummed in a somewhat song tone as he opened the door to their bedroom and closed it once they had entered.
The next thing Schlatt knew, he was being undressed. First, the tie carefully avoiding his horns as it was pulled over his head, his suit jacket slipped down his arms, and then the process of unbuttoning his shirt and slipping that off as well.
Quackity's hands then went to the man's fly and button. Schlatt wanted to make some sort of remark but felt that would use up the morsel of energy he had left in his body. So he would save that for the morning, perhaps.
Once he was out of his presidential outfit, and the fit was somewhat together on the floor, Quackity didn't bother trying to get his husband into pajamas.
He assisted Schlatt into the sheets, found himself in a comfortable position in the man's lose hold, and after one light stoke against the middle of his left ear, the hybrid man was completely out.
Quackity smiled to himself, hearing the rain against the roof along with his husband's breaths. He continued lightly petting the man in his sleep.
He was petting the president like a goat.
His sweet little goat.