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Red stumbled out of the house, squinting at the glare of sunrise peaking like a glinting knife over the neighbor's rooftops. The air had a crisp chill to it, made all the more shocking by his lack of a shirt, but he knew it would be overly warm in only a few hours, and there was a lot of work to do.
Using his hand as a visor against the harsh, refreshing morning light, Red shambled through the yard in his bare feet, the morning dew clinging to his toes as he made his way to the humble little dirt patch he'd prepped the day before. Seeing nothing amiss, he went to the little shed, picking the padlock with his claws (because the key was back in the house, and Dance and Lust were waking up, and as much as he loved his pets, they were a god damn distraction and Red had fucking work to do, god damn it, he couldn't laze about in bed all day) so he could open the door without breaking it (again).
First he grabbed his gloves, pulling them on with smug deliberation. The custom little sheaths for his claws slid on with an almost satisfying glide, letting him clip the wrist straps on to keep the soft foam padding from sliding around. He gave himself a moment to flex, smirking at the satisfying stretch of rubber, before picking up the little wooden crate that had been waiting on the lowest shelf. He took it back to the dirt plot, kneeling in the wet earth and spreading out the tools of his humble little hobby.
Red had spent the bulk of his early years learning how and when to take life. Now, he wanted to make shit live. Maybe that was stupid, but Lust said this was his yard and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted with it, fuck you very much, and what Red wanted was to grow some god damn tomatoes.
And watermelon.
And onions.
And maybe some peppers if he could fit it all in.
Red heard an unholy scream come from under his porch, breaking the serene silence of the morning. "shut th fuck up, ya walkin' earmuff!" Red snarled, glaring at the strawberry bushes that hugged the house. He knew whatever hole that couch eating asshole crawled under was behind them, but he didn't think he'd be able to get to it without ruining the berries, and those had to stay.
Red shook his head, turning back to his project. First he had to read the instructions. He took notes. The little notebook flipped open with a soft flutter, returning Red to a better state of mind.
Tomatoes liked it deep and warm? Sounded like they'd be right at home. Red spaced them out by about a foot and dug deep enough to bury his fingers. That should work, right? The seeds were so fucking tiny...
Red sighed, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. He wasn't exactly Mr Nurturing, he just might not have what it took to do a garden...
Next were the watermelon. Red squinted at his notes. Did they really wanna be planted on a dirt pile? His crude illustration looked like a pyramid. Red looked at his dirt again, getting up to go get extra to work with. It was like making a snowman, right?
He looked like a damn idiot, on his knees packing dirt into a fucking castle for a god damn prissy melon seed. His notes said they needed space, which meant he wouldn't have room in this patch for anything else and he'd have to watch they didn't crush the tomatoes, but whatever. Red could bully a stupid melon or two.
The sound of puppies barking down the street brought Red out of his grumbling. He wiped sweat from his brow, looking up just in time to see a rather happy woman strut down the street with a large litter of excitable puppies scrambling about on leads. So far, the neighborhood seemed rather amiable, but it was still surreal to see a human with monster children.
A good kind of surreal, in Red's opinion. Maybe when the little rug rats got older their moms could make a difference with the power of entitlement.
One of the pack caught sight of Red, giving a yip. Its litter mates turned to investigate. As a group, they all tried crossing the street. A stern shout and firm tug from the woman brought them to heel, and she led the little brats along.
The pathetic whimpering tugged at Red's bleeding heart. He made a few bone constructs (making sure they were blunted at both ends) and tossed them across the street.
Excited yips and growls answered the offering.
With that out of the way, Red went back to his dirt sculptures. He poked holes in the tops, stuffing a few seeds into them before covering them up again.
with the seeds actually planted, all Red had to do was water it all. He packed away his things back into the open crate and returned it to the shed.
The sun was well above the rooftops by the time Red touched the hose. He spent longer than he cared to admit uncoiling and untangling the damn thing, stretching it out from the faucet to the garden. The puppies circled back around on their return trip before he'd managed to turn the hose on.
Thankfully, no one was around when he accidentally sprayed himself in the face.
How much water did seeds need? Red wasn't actually sure. He'd always shaken vegetoids down for produce, and that never required any water.
He'd just soak the whole dirt plot. That would be enough right?
Watering done, Red tossed the hose aside and lumbered back into his house, wiping his wet feet on the mat.
The house was cold. Red checked the thermostat to see it had been lowered significantly (again). He smiled to himself, washing his hands in the kitchen sink and fetching a couple of ice packs.
Red entered the bedroom quietly, uncertain how sensitive his two pets were at the moment. Dance let out a hiss at the added light, covering his face with his hands. Lust, who already had his eyes closed, whined, rolling onto his side. They were both drenched in sweat on top of the bedsheets. Lust's oversized tshirt clung to his bones at odd places, plastered to them by the damp, accentuating his lovely structure. Dance's shorts had damp patches, sticking to his femurs, but Red's eye was drawn to the angry scar on his ribs that looked a little less raw every day. The mild thrum of discomfort that Red had been ignoring while he worked came to the forefront, telling him exactly what kind of day they would be having together.
"bad day?" Red asked softly, already knowing the answer. Bad days happened, and he was just glad they happened when he was around. He settled the icepacks on their lumbar, one for each of them.
Lust let out a groan of sheer relief, some of his tension bleeding away along with his body temperature. Dance gasped at the chill, not quite as overheated as Lust, but didn't try to remove it either. Red took that moment to duck into the bathroom, running a quick shower to wash off the dirt that had gotten smeared all over him. He heard Dance calling, long and drawn out and muffled by the spray, but Red knew better by now.
Shower first, then fall into the trap.
Red patted himself down in a quick dry before he dared venture back into the bedroom.
"red-!!!" Dance whined again.
"yeah, kitten?" Red asked, keeping his eyes on his feet as he made his way to the drawers for a fresh pair of boxers.
"red, c'mere!"
Red hummed. "sure thats a'aight? dun ya want breakfast?"
Dance audibly hesitated. Lust, however, had no clashing loyalties.
"red, sweetheart..?? please???" Lust whimpered, exhausted despite it only being the start of his day.
Red broke, climbing into bed to settle between them. Lust rolled over to tuck himself under Red's arm, slender phalanges curling into his ribs. Dance hummed, shimmying lower, hugging Red's pelvis and stroking over it, purring. Red curled his arm around Lust, stroking over his shoulder and tugging lightly on his collar. Red let his other hand settle on Dance's skull, tracing the swirl pattern lazily with his claw tips.
Red would have to get up to make food eventually, but for right now, comforting his pets was all he could ever want.