It was Saturday and Cain had no one to fuck. He grunted as he pulled off his gloves, tossing them next to the bed and raking a hand through his hair. If Abel was here, he'd surely be nagging at Cain to stop throwing his shit everywhere. As it was, he was off working with the navigators for the fifth night in a row and Cain was bored out of his skull. He stalked around the room for a moment before grabbing his jacket and pulling it on quickly. If Abel was going to be gone for most of the night again, he could at least chill in Deimos's room. It's not like he had anything better to do.
Deimos was crouched over the toilet with his finger down his throat again. He coughed hard, his whole body wracked by the force. His navigator was off with his friends for the night and Deimos was alone. He got to his feet, no longer as weak as he used to be after purging. He washed his hands, scrubbing his skin until it turned red from the heat. His grey eyes didn't glance at the mirror once, refusing to acknowledge the creature he may see. He pointedly ignored the calluses and scars on his fingers as he dried them; he took no notice of his sallow cheeks or his decaying teeth. No one cared about what he did to himself so why should he?
Shuffling to his bed, he sat there in a near trance. His thoughts were formless, merely smoke curling around the edges of his brain and muddling his senses. His muscles relaxed and he lay on the bed, burying his face in a pillow. He woke up from his half-asleep state when the door slid open and he heard the heavy footsteps that could only come from Cain. He was already complaining about something, probably how he had nothing to do since his precious navigator was working again. He sat up and gave Cain a blank look, watching him lift a cigarette to his lips and light it. He didn't say anything as Cain smoked, just followed his movements as he sat next to him.
"You been getting' sick again, Myshonok?" he demanded, his dark eyes reflecting the dim light as he fixed Deimos with a hard glare. Deimos said nothing, forcing himself to remain relaxed, lest Cain see the tensing of his muscles and learn the truth. With a snort, he pushed the smaller fighter down and stubbed out his cigarette. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it to the far corner of the bed, ensnaring Deimos with the movement of his muscles. He toed off his boots and let them fall to the floor before laying back on the bed. Deimos didn't move from where he had fallen when Cain had pushed him, watching him carefully.
"Well? Get your ass over here." He grunted, shifting his position slightly to make room. Deimos held back his surprise as he scooted over to Cain, curling against his side with his head pillowed on his chest. He could hear his heart beating steadily, a low thumping in his ears that burnt away the fog. Cain wrapped an arm around his waist, his fingers absently moving over Deimos's hip as he breathed.
"You can't keep doing that shit Myshonok." Cain muttered quietly, so soft that Deimos almost missed it. He stayed quiet and refused to give any sign of acknowledgement. He didn't want to make a promise he knew he couldn't keep. Not when the one reason he kept doing it was lying right beside him.