Work Text:
"Ponkie?"
"Mmm?"
There's a moment of hesitation, like Sam's regretting it. He sucks in a deep breath.
"Do you… um… do you wanna come here?"
He pauses, and slowly shifts in his seat, counter digging into his arms, turning to look at Sam. He's fidgeting with his fingers, flush visible even through his fur.
"Do I wanna come over there?"
"Uh huh," Sam says, voice soft with embarrassment. He shifts under Ponk's raised eyebrow.
"...do you?" Sam asks when she doesn't say anything.
"Hmmm." They set his switch down on the counter before they spin the stool a bit, turning their entire body towards him. "What for?"
"Cuddles?" Sam says, voice tinged with hope. Both sets of hands are fidgeting with each other.
"Cuddles?" Ponk repeats.
"Yeah."
"You're asking me for cuddles?" He never asks for cuddles. Hell, he doesn't ask unless it's something risque, and he damn well never asks if Ponk wants anything. It just happens, and if Ponk wants out, he wiggles out. And then they figure it out in the moment.
"If you want to," Sam says weakly. "Just - just if you want to."
"And it's just cuddles?" Ponk reiterates.
"Yes."
"And you're askin' for them?"
"Yes," Sam says, voice barely above a squeak. Green blush is searing through his fur. He clears his throat, then grabs the edge of the patchwork quilt. It's the fuzzy one Sam made to use as a weighted blanket cover. They never ended up using it, since they upgraded to a queen size instead of a twin. Sam's body disappears up to the shoulders under the brightly patterned fabric. He's pouting, the slits in his cheeks filling with his teeth. It'd probably look intimidating to anyone else. Sam's cheeks showcase another inhuman part of him - the inside of his mouth looks like it could function as a meat grinder.
That hasn't stopped Ponk from putting her tongue in there, though, and it's not about to stop her from using him as a cushy pillow.
They huff, abandoning their stool at the counter and heading into the living room. Sam's face brightens the moment he realizes what's happening. They fiddle with his switch as they step around the corner of the ugly sofa, setting it on top of the cushion. Sam kicks the quilt to the side, relocating his book to the sofa's armrest. His hands come up preemptively to support them as they sit. One settles, warm and firm, against their back.
Sam grunts as Ponk's weight settles on his stomach, rubbing a little circle on the small of his back.
"Hey there," he rumbles. She pats his tummy as she swings her legs up over his. Sam groans theatrically at the shifting weight. As thanks, she flops back onto his chest. His breath floods out of him in a hissing wheeze.
"Ponkie," he gasps. "What was that for??"
"For acting like a dramatic bitch," they inform him coldly. He thumps their chest.
"All of your weight is on my tummy , Ponk. It's not very comfortable."
"Hmph," he mutters. He reaches for Sam's switch. Sam grabs it before he can get it, lifting it above his head. " Sam ."
"I'll give it back in a minute." He tilts it towards him, blinking at the screen. "What are you - did - did you use my flowers to make a - a -" Ponk grins a bit, knowing exactly what he's talking about and exactly why it's reduced him to giggles.
"A what?" She asks, far too innocently. It sets Sam off again. His stomach bounces under her as he laughs, accompanied by the wheezing of his port. (Oh, shit - she shouldn't have flopped back. If she broke the loom thing Sam leans on, he wouldn't be able to lie on his back.)
"A p - a - a weenie," he giggles. "Wh - why did - Ponkie ." They fake a deep gasp.
"It's a T , Sammy! Get your head out of the -"
"No it's not!" Sam squeaks. "No, no it's- that's -" he bursts into giggles again, setting the switch on Ponk's stomach so he can bury his face into his hair, still giggling like a middle schooler.
"Myyyy goodness ," Ponk sighs before setting about rearranging the penis into something presentable.