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He thinks he could watch Tango forever like this. He looks exhausted, rightfully so, but Tango’s eyes stay open, fixated on the tiny body he’s holding tight to his chest. The baby (their! baby!) is asleep, Zedaph thinks, though it’s hard to tell with demons. They’re much less bitey than they’d been earlier, at least.
Tango says something to them in his mother language, something endearing based on the silly look on his face. Not for the first time, Zedaph wishes human tongues had the capacity to speak the language. He’s tried to learn it before, but half the sounds can’t be made with a human mouth, and his ears can’t distinguish them well enough to be able to understand the language either.
“I hope you’re not being mean to them already,” he says. Tango grins.
“I am,” he says. “It’s tradition to insult your newborns where I’m from.”
Honestly, it sounds like the kind of thing that would be true, but Zedaph knows Tango well enough to know when he’s lying.
“Sure, sure.” Zedaph can’t help but reach out and touch the soft hairs on their baby’s head. “Just like how it’s tradition to not name your kids?”
“Hey, that one’s real,” Tango says. “What kind of person names their kid without knowing their personality? My parents didn’t name me for six months.”
This Zedaph knows is true; Tango has mentioned it before, as have all the demon pregnancy books that Zedaph and Impulse managed to find. It still feels weird to Zedaph.
On Tango’s other side, Impulse stirs. He’s not conscious enough to do anything more than cuddle closer to Tango before relaxing again, and Tango sighs as he leans back against Impulse.
“Can’t believe he fell asleep,” Tango says. “I’m the one who fucking gave- oh shit. Wait, no.”
Zedaph can barely contain his giggles. “So much for not swearing around them.”
“I’ll get better at it. Probably.”
“You lasted nearly twelve hours. That’s way more than I thought you would.”
Tango sticks his tongue out. “Bet you’ll drop them first.”
“No way.” Zedaph can’t bring himself to even be jokingly offended at Tango, so he settles for scooting even closer, so close he and Tango and Impulse and their baby are more like one body than four. “I’m a mature, responsible alpha who would never, under any circumstances, put a real life infant in a contraption.”
Tango snorts, then coos at the baby when the sound wakes them. They fall back asleep faster than Impulse, somehow.
“What’s the smallest size elytra?” Tango asks sleepily. “Just curious.”
“No.”
“Aw, come on.”
“They’ll break something.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, I dunno, their bones?”
“Don’t be silly. Demons don’t have bones,” Tango says and closes his eyes. He’s asleep by the time Zedaph realizes he wasn’t joking.
“Wait what do you mean, you don’t have bones?! ”