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Subspace had been trying to get Ban Hammer to take a hint and leave for the past hour-and-a-half. He had spent the last several hours multitasking between ironing out some kinks and bugs within the latest Omega patch, writing changelogs for upcoming patches, and writing a particularly important end-of-week report for Azurewrath — and the demigod’s presence has evolved to be akin to a gnat flitting around his ear. Annoying, persistent… and, of course, impossible to get rid of.
“Don’t you have some warden work to fall back to?" Subspace asks, ear twitching at the sound of Ban Hammer shifting next to him on the couch. “I’m sure Banland is missing you.” It’s about as subtle as he can get with the other inphernal without outright telling him to leave. He truly doesn’t want it to get to that point. It’s never fun. At least, not for Ban Hammer. It’s fun for him.
“Nah…” Ban Hammer drawls, jaws parting in an obscene yawn. “Don’t got none t’ do… I’m sure my men’ll keep da place runnin’ while I’m here. ‘Sides,” he adds, slinging an arm around Subspace’s shoulder. He doesn’t appear to miss the way Subspace stiffens, or the low growl that bubbles from the scientist’s throat, continuing on with a grin. “‘Y need me here, else ya’d be stuck in y’ head like y’ are all da damn time.”
“I like being in my head, thank you very much,” Subspace shoots back, fur prickling uncomfortably. Ban Hammer is such a pest. All he does is bother him. The few instances where he’s endearing are few and far between, and she’s an absolute nightmare when it comes to social cues. Well. That’s something they both seem to have in common, come to think of it. Subspace scowls at the idea, abruptly shutting his laptop. His scowl deepens when Ban Hammer leans in to press a firm kiss to his cheek.
“Ain’t good for y’. Y’ barely leave y’ house as-is, sha.” Ban Hammer tuts. One clawed finger reaches out to lightly brush the scientist’s hair out of his face. His tail wags absently behind him, back-and-forth. “Dat ain’t no way to live. Lab, home, lab, home… y’ get da gist.”
There’s a very good reason why he doesn’t leave the house. Subspace swats his hand away with a harsh noise, blowing pink smog right into his face — Ban Hammer sputters and coughs, waving his hand around. His face scrunches up for a split-second in a sneeze that rattles his frame. Once, twice. Subspace watches the demigod struggle with a hint of amusement. This was always a sure-fire way to win an argument. He didn’t even have to argue.
One last pitiful wheeze breaks from Ban Hammer’s chest, and he gasps for air and pulls Subspace closer. “If I didn’t know no better I’d think y’ tryna kill me,” he huffs.
“Maybe I am,” Subspace remarks, holding his gaze.
Ban Hammer raises an eyebrow, staring back at him before breaking away with a faint chuckle. “Awright, sha,” a quick roll of his eyes, “and I’m from Lost Temple.”
Subspace can’t get him to leave. Maybe he can lock him on the balcony. Then he won’t be able to get back inside. He’ll have to go back to the Banlands unless he wants to get covered in snow. It’s a possibly cruel idea. But he’s sick of the other inphernal. "Why don’t we go sit on the balcony instead?” He offers. One look towards the window, and there’s a small flurry of snow fluttering down.
Ban Hammer lets out a quiet hum at his words, shifting again and pressing himself further against the scientist, nearly crushing him with his weight. “Nah. It’s cold. And y’all’re expectin’ a pretty big storm I hear…” Of course he doesn’t seem phased. A quiet grunt sounds from him as he adjusts his position, pulling Subspace closer to his chest.
One hand is spread out, palm pressed against his heart, while the other rubs the pad of his thumb into one of his ears. A grin rises to the demigod's face when he's rewarded with a rapid flick of the ear he’s messing with, and Subspace swears he knows he's bothering him. “I’d much rather stay here wit’ y’.”
A faint growl trails up from his throat, eye narrowing to a slit, the tip of his tail lashing side to side. “You’re so annoying,” he complains, wrangling himself free from his hold. Ban Hammer gives a vague protest, pretending to fight to keep his grip on him. His hand reaches out to weakly grasp against Subspace’s arm, but scientist doesn’t entertain the scuffle and steps entirely away from him and the couch.
Subspace needs to think up a new plan on how to get the other inphernal out of his home. But before he can, aloud bang sounds from far below outside, causing him to let out a startled squeal, ears pinning back. He recovers swiftly, a scowl replacing his terrified expression. He stomps over and wrenches the curtains open to glare down at the scene below his penthouse.
The streets are an absolute mess, inphernals ducking and weaving around one another while snow continues to flutter down and cover the roads. Usually, the crowds aren’t as bad in this part of the compound. Inphernals here know how to be sensible. They know not to stomp around and make tasks difficult. They know how to keep to themselves, to keep far out of anyone important’s way.
All of that knowledge appears to be thrown out of the window right about now. Subspace absentmindedly stomps a foot down, an annoyed snort accompanying it as he snaps his head over towards where Ban Hammer was resting.
The demigod looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s adapted to Subspace’s departure by shifting to take up the entire couch, eyes closed and one leg curled up underneath his frame while the other is supported by the armrest. He wiggles slightly against the cushions, a content grunt leaving his chest. “Y’ couch is comfy comfy,” he rumbles, one hand lazily reaching up to flop over his forehead. He appears completely unaware of Subspace’s plight, and that only serves to make him angrier.
His mouth opens, a snide remark on the tip of his tongue when the lamp suddenly flickers. It wavers for a beat, alternating between on-and-off before it abruptly fizzles out for good. The faint blow of the heater stutters to a stop, and the room is silent. The only light present is the pale glimmer from one of the streetlights below the penthouse before it inevitably ceases as well.
The bang must have been a power line. And with how hard the snow is piling down, Subspace doubts it’ll be repaired tonight. Blackrockian nights are freezing on a good day, and subzero on the other days with little room for mercy. One could only imagine how many inphernals are going to be dead in the alleyways tomorrow morning, ready for clean-up.
The scientist makes his way back over to the couch with a sigh. His hand reaches out, shooting underneath Ban Hammer to feel around for his phone with a slew of muttered insults. Ban Hammer pipes up with a huff of annoyance, but one look at Subspace’s gaze causes him to fall silent.
“You’re too heavy,” he gripes, eye squinting in concentration. His hand is lost somewhere between a couch cushion, and Ban Hammer’s weight on his wrist — while uncomfortable at first — has grown into a dull pain that only gets worse the longer he lays on it.
“It’s all fluff!” The demigod squawks, side-eyeing Subspace with an incredulous, nearly-hurt look. But he knows it’s all for show. Ban Hammer juts his lip out, head tilting imperceptibly to the side, eyes rounding. And it does absolutely nothing to Subspace except solidify the resolve he has to find his phone.
“You have no fluff,” he grunts, forcing his hand up straight into the demigod’s back. The shock causes him to yelp and jolt upward, ears pricking. “You live in the Banlands. It’s fuzz at best.”
“Y’ wound me,” Ban Hammer cries, twisting a hand around to rub along the spot Subspace prodded as he shoots him another indignant look. “I run at least fifteen miles a day!”
Subspace snorts out a laugh, shooting more smog from his mouth and nose. He waves it away before it reaches Ban Hammer. He knows it’s true. The demigod is very fit — but the sight of him laying on his couch contradicts the fact. “Uh-huh.” He scans the cushions that have opened up, spotting his phone tucked in towards the back of one and quickly retrieving it. “You’re currently laying on my couch like a bum, though.”
“Not layin’ no more,” Ban Hammer mumbles petulantly, folding his arms against his chest. Subspace plaintively ignores his pouting, tapping the screen and unlocking his phone. He looks over his apps before navigating to the weather, and the sight that befalls him is not a good one.
Blizzards to ravage the innermost metropolis, continuing throughout the night. Temperatures will descend to around -57°F. For visiting inphernals who aren’t acclimated to our climate, seek immediate shelter to reduce the risk of hypothermia, frostbite, and death — your body will not be relocated. Glory to Blackrock!
“Well now I don’t gotta go!” Ban Hammer warbles victoriously from his spot overlooking Subspace’s shoulder. He knocks his horns against the scientist’s, who rebuffs with an indignant shriek, tearing himself away from his form.
“Yes you do! You need to leave before the weather becomes worse,” Subspace says, tail lashing towards the door in a clear invitation to get out and leave. He loves Ban Hammer. At least, he thinks he does. Really, he does, but he can only spend so much time around him with his daftness and inflated ego before it drives him mad. Spending the night with him is a surefire way to send Subspace spiraling down into mania.
Ban Hammer keeps himself planted firmly on the couch, a petulant expression darting across his face, claws just short of digging into the expensive fabric. Subspace’s eye twitches at the scene. “I don’t wannu fly in dis weather. Y’ see how hard da snow is comin’ down? And what about what da app said? Ain’t safe.”
Deep in the back of his mind, Subspace knows the Administration’s media wouldn’t put out an alert unless the brewing storm was especially dangerous. Blackrock has blizzards all the time, regardless of the season. When you’re so high up in the mountains, it’s expected. But rarely do they get one that requires this many alerts, or this many precautions.
He growls under his breath, claws reaching to grip at his hair. His hand falls back down to his side, and he risks a glance over towards Ban Hammer. The demigod is gazing at him with such pity that it’s hard to reject him. He doesn’t know when that started, and thinking about it makes him angry, so he forcefully derails that train of thought with a deep-suffering sigh.
“Fine,” Subspace finally snaps, claws irritably drumming against the back of his phone case. “You can stay. But!” He lifts one claw up, bringing it to the front of Ban Hammer’s face before he can get too excited. “There are terms. Don’t bother me. No talking my ear off. No touching me unless I touch you first.”
“But what about—” Ban Hammer attempts to object, only to get Subspace’s claw jammed directly into his face with a stuttered hiss.
He doesn’t even know what the demigod was going to say, but he responds regardless. “No! I have to finish this report or else Azurewrath will have my head.” He flops back down in his spot on the other side of the couch without another look toward the sniveling inphernal, snatching his laptop from where Ban Hammer had been using it as a footrest. Subspace frowns, peering at the screen to look over for any cracks or dead pixels — but, thankfully for Ban Hammer, he doesn’t find any. He shoots him a dirty look anyway, squirming around against the backrest to get comfortable enough to finish his work.
“Go close the blinds for me,” he commands idly, not bothering to check on whether or not Ban Hammer actually followed through. His claws deftly fly across the keyboard, and he almost forgets Ban Hammer is still at his penthouse as he becomes engrossed in his writing. Maybe he’ll actually manage to finish the report, errors, and changelogs tonight without anything else going wrong.
Despite the previous rules set in place, Subspace doesn’t truly mind that much when Ban Hammer inevitably scoots over to wrap a firm, careful arm around his shoulders, moving to rest his chin on top of his head, breath tickling against his crystal. He subconsciously leans into the hold, a faint purr resonating from his throat. This is nice. A lot better than earlier; the other inphernal is taking his terms to heart.
“Subs.” Ban Hammer pipes up after what felt like only a few good minutes of peace and quiet.
Subspace tries his best to drown the demigod out, continuing to type his way through his report. It was his top priority, and then he could work on his other tasks, and only then could he finally go to sleep. Hopefully before midnight. He hasn’t been able to sleep more than ten hours in over a week.
“Subs…” Subspace's ears pin to the sides of his head, eye narrowing to show his barely-concealed frustration. He doesn’t offer up an answer, though he’s sure his quiet growl speaks for itself as he continues to work.
“Subs!” The shout was right in Subspace’s ear this time, and it’s so sudden that he nearly crumples to the floor in his shock.
“What?!” He snarls out at last once he rights himself, head snapping up to pin the demigod in place with a fierce glare. He manuevers out of his hold, tail lashing. His side is noticeably colder without Ban Hammer pressed up against him, but he shakes it off.
“Y’ laptop ‘bout t’ die,” she says bluntly, and Subspace whips his gaze back over to his screen with a loud groan of disappointment. The laptop had 7% left — and with the power out, there was no way to charge it.
Subspace can hardly believe it. “You couldn’t have told me this earlier?” His grip tightens on his laptop — he had so much to finish. The report was only half-finished, and it’s due in a couple of days. With the work he has to do at the lab tomorrow, and the rest of the coding he needs to get done, there’s hardly any time to squeeze in finishing it in his schedule.
“Y’ said not t’ talk t’ y’ unless y’ talked t’ me first,” Ban Hammer shrugs, gaze fixing up at him with a look of finality.
Subspace has to fight back the urge to wrap his hands around the inphernal’s throat and strangle him half to death. He did say that. He really did. Ban Hammer was nothing if not petty. And, apparently, good at directions — which was a strong first. He sighs, shutting the laptop and setting it down, standing up, and once again shaking the chill out of his bones. He hadn’t realized how cold it had gotten without his heater — he was more susceptible to the chill than most Blackrockians. It hasn’t always been like this, but ever since his fur started falling out, it’s been a pain to adapt.
One look over to Ban Hammer has him thinking he doesn’t look much better. At least he still has all of his fur — but he’s still shivering somewhat despite having his chin raised. “You look cold,” Subspace comments, eyeing him up and down. The demigod looks pathetic like this; his ears are lowered, pinned against his head. That’s a very rare look for him.
“Well it’s a damn lot better in here than it’d be out dere,” Ban Hammer says, fur fluffed up. His arms are wrapped around his chest, teeth chattering faintly. “But yeah, I’d say I’m cold.”
“…Unfortunate,” Subspace decides on, already making the walk to his bedroom. Gods, it’s frigid. He considers his penthouse well-insulated, but even then, the chill finds its way through, seeping from cracks in the windowsills. The cold always makes his bones ache worse, which is miserable, considering his place of residence.
Ban Hammer had already gotten up to trail after him, stumbling from how fast he managed to stand. “Wait fo’ me,” he yelps, stomping his way over in a hurry — an action that insantly causes Subspace to speed up. He doesn’t want to get toppled over by the oaf.
“Slow down!” He hisses, twisting the door open to let the both of them in before slamming it shut. It’s even colder in the bedroom; stepping foot into the chill manages to sap the rest of Subspace’s energy in one fell swoop. His shivering picks up as he scrambles to dive into the bed, burrowing himself underneath the layers of quilts and blankets. He doesn’t resist it when Ban Hammer settles into bed next to him, his weight causing an ominous creak of the bedframe as the mattress dips lower to accomodate him.
“‘S freezing in here,” Ban Hammer complains, shuddering. Subspace bristles underneath the covers when he feels him fumbling around for one of the blankets, and he pops his head out from underneath them and barrels into his chest with an annoyed hiss. A muffled oof breaches from the demigod’s chest, arms outstretching to promptly bring the smaller inphernal into his embrace. “If y’ wanted t’ cuddle y’ coulda jus’ asked, sha,” he snorts. “Don’t gotta ram inta me like a bull.”
“This is not cuddling,” Subspace insists, lifting up Ban Hammer’s sweatshirt and shoving himself up underneath to be closer to him. He already regrets the rough-housing; his muscles ache even more now. “We’re… sharing our body warmth to reach a temperature that satisfies the both of us.” Even so, he buries his face into the demigod’s fur with a content chitter.
Ban Hammer’s shoulders shake in a silent laugh, releasing one arm from the embrace to instead bring it upward to run his claws across Subspace’s cheek — careful of one of the deeper wounds festering nearby. “Dat’s a complicated way t’ say we’re cuddlin’.” A purr accompanies her words, gruff and rumbling. His purr falters when Subspace bumps his head up into her chin, one of the points of his crystal digging past fur and into the skin. “Fuckin’— ow, gods damn it, sha—”
“Not cuddling.” Subspace repeats, but the words feel feeble on his tongue. He pulls his head back down, pushing his cheek into the demigod’s hand. He likes the touch, despite his attempts to deny it. Ban Hammer is the only inphernal who has ever touched him like this. She’s the only one allowed to touch him like this. He still won’t put a name to the act, though.
“‘Kay. Ain’t cuddlin’, den,” Ban Hammer concedes, taking the corner of one of the quilts and hefting it around them before using both arms to pull Subspace even closer. “Don’t mean I can’t do dis though.” He ignores the scientist’s pathetic struggling, chuckling as he presses kiss after kiss to his cheeks, careful and soft as if he was as fragile as glass. “Love y’, love y’, love y’…” Each declaration is accompanied by another kiss. To his forehead, to the side of his mouth, to what remains of his lips. The sight of the expression on Subspace’s face — a snarl of both horror and fury — does nothing but cause another chuckle to leave him. “Y’ don’t scare me.”
Subspace doesn’t answer, pushing himself further against him. He can’t get any closer. But he’s still determined to try. “Shut your mouth,” he sneers, a half-hearted response when it becomes clear that Ban Hammer is expecting one. “I’ll give you something to be scared about!” The rebuttal only makes Ban Hammer laugh harder, chest jolting from the force of it. Subspace shrieks as he’s jostled, fur spiking and ears pinning back. “It’s not funny!” He complains, digging his claws into the demigod’s fur. “Stop shaking me with your hideous laughing!”
“Awright, awright, I’m sorry,” Ban Hammer wheezes out, letting go of the smaller inphernal for a split second to wipe tears from his eye with a claw. “Y’ jus’ so cute when y’ get all mad. I can’t help it.”
Subspace has half a mind to pierce his horns straight through the demigod’s throat, but he restrains himself with another hiss, tucking himself up underneath his chin and settling down. He doesn’t have the energy to continue fighting him; gods know he went from idolizing the warden to being aggravated by him every second of every day.
Ban Hammer nudges against the top of his head with another loud purr, and his shoulders relax somewhat. She isn’t that awful, he supposes. At least, for now. Only a prophet would know whether or not he’ll continue to be in his favor later on. “Y’ take y’ meds?” the demigod rumbles questioningly. “Take y’ fluids?” He’s pulling more blankets up around them, tucking them in. The cold hadn’t been bothering Subspace much anymore, now that he’s thinking on it, but he won’t object to more comfort.
“Earlier,” he mumbles, kneading his claws against Ban Hammer’s fur. This has the most calm he’s felt in over a week. It’s a little embarrassing, but he’s too sleepy to really grasp it in his current state of mind. “Don’t need any more for… five hours.”
Ban Hammer nods, hand rubbing along his back in slow circles. “I’ll set an alarm.” He’s already reaching for his phone before Subspace can argue against it, making sure to keep one of his arms snug around the smaller inphernal.
Subspace’s ears prick upward, listening to the quiet woosh of wind outside the window. His head lifts blearily against Ban Hammer’s chest to gaze outside, watching the snow dance its way to the ground before he sighs and lets his head fall back against the demigod.
“You better be gone when I wake up tomorrow,” he mutters, half-hearted.
“I’ll try my best,” Ban Hammer grins as he finishes setting up the alarm, tossing his phone back onto the nightstand. They both know he won’t.
Subspace doesn’t find himself minding for once.