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English
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Part 15 of Levlies' QSMP , Part 2 of The stars are looking back at you
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Published:
2023-08-07
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2,175
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1/1
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He should've killed that zombie 10 hits ago

Summary:

Etoiles didn't mean to move in to Slimecicle's house, but now that he's here, he's not planning on leaving any time soon.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Etoiles isn’t exactly sure how it happened, but he thinks he might have moved in with Slimecicle?

He really, really didn’t mean to. Like, the first night he only stayed because of how amused Slimecicle was that he’d placed a bed next to his. The guy kept giggling about it. Was Etoiles supposed to just leave him to sleep alone? He’s not a fucking monster. 

Besides, Baghera keeps telling him he needs to sleep more (the hypocrite). It was really a win-win situation. 

The second night was an accident too. Really, how was he supposed to keep track of time when he was busy watching Slimecicle try to kill that swordfish in the mine? He could’ve helped out, probably should have to be honest, but, well, what was that saying? If you teach a man to fish? Really he was just being a good teacher, watching Slimecicle 1v1 the swordfish and lose. Extensively. 

(He was right about being able to one-shot it, by the way. He told Slimecicle that it was only because Slimecicle had softened the guy up but. Dude. The swordfish had only lost like 2 hearts.)

The next thing he knew it had been like a week. It wasn’t like he never left: Baghera and Pomme would’ve probably hunted him for sport. (Wait, that could be a fun bonding activity. Pomme would like that.) It’s just like, there was a waystone right there. And Etoiles’ house was sort of…. Unfurnished. And Slimecicle looked so surprised and happy every night Etoiles came home that really, how was he supposed to stay away?

It’s a mutual benefit, Etoiles muses, sitting on the roof of Slimecicle’s hut and watching the guy try to fend off a zombie. He’s been needing enrichment in his enclosure (Philza’s been accusing him of going mad without things to fight), and Slimecicle has been needing. Well. A lot. 

Gear, for one thing, which Etoiles has been happy to provide. It was really quite simple to give the guy an old backpack and some of his used diamond armour. (If Etoiles spent like a full two days grinding for the best possible enchantments and backpack upgrades, well, no one will ever know.) 

((Baghera knows and thinks it’s hilarious.))

 Training was another thing, a little more difficult but still in Etoiles’ capabilities. “You’re doing great!” he calls out. It’s a lie. He should’ve killed that zombie ten hits ago. Slimecicle turns to give Etoiles a thumbs up and gets punched in the face. Etoiles tenses up for a second, ready to swing over and end it, but by his calculations, Slimecicle should still be at half health and with the auto-feeding backpack that will go up pretty quickly. He settles for keeping a closer eye, one hand on his grappling hook just in case. 

Food and gear and company and training, all of those things are easy for Etoiles, all things he’s done before. He may prefer travelling alone, fighting alone, but he’s not dumb. A good team with him means less need for caution, more room for error. A good team means not bleeding out alone, thousands of blocks from the nearest base. 

These are the things that Slimecicle needs that Etoiles can provide and is happy to do so. In turn, his sleep schedule has never been better, and his itch for a good fight has softened to ‘manageable’ for the first time in months. He smiles more now, apparently. According to Baghera. She keeps threatening to show up and spy on them and Etoiles knows it’s only a matter of time. It had taken her five seconds to clock his crush on the guy.

Out in the field that they fenced off for mob spawns, Slimecicle finally kills the zombie and bounds over with a giant grin on his face. “Did you see?” he asks, like Etoiles has taken his eyes off him even once since he got back after a day out with Pomme. 

“Yeah, man, you’re making good progress!” He’s not even lying, Slimecicle was just that bad before. “We’ll make a warrior out of you yet!”

Slimecicle looks sad all of a sudden. “Well, I don’t know about that. I just want to be better at protecting people.”

And there it is: the one thing Etoiles can’t help Slimecicle with. 

Etoiles isn’t good with emotions. With grief. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Pomme dies. He might go insane. He might leave forever. He doesn’t know how Slimecicle keeps going with a smile on his face. 

He’s bad enough at his own emotions but he’s worse with others’, although he tries his best. “Mistakes don’t make a person,” he says firmly. He knows Tilin’s death weighs heavily on Slimecicle’s mind. “And we will make sure it never happens again, yes?”

Slimecicle gives the axe in his hands a little twirl and nods firmly. No weapons with a sweeping attack for him. Etoiles jumps off the roof and exerts a lot of effort into not ruffling Slimecice’s hair like a dog. 

“Do you want to keep going?” Etoiles asks. 

Slimecicle shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good for now. My arm’s kind of fucked up,” he laughs. 

Etoiles frowns. “Can I see?” he asks, drawing closer. Slimecicle holds his arm out obligingly. 

Looks like the zombie got a few good scratches in. Etoiles cringes at the thought of all the grime that is entering Slime’s bloodstream as they speak. He mentally notes to teach Slimecicle first aid at some point. 

He pulls Slimecicle into the house. They have to sit on the floor, no furniture in sight besides their beds (and Etoiles does not want to do laundry tonight). “How do you not have a table in here, man?” 

“I don’t, uh--” Slimecicle bites his lip.

Oh. Yeah, he probably could’ve guessed. “You don’t know how to make one? Here, I have an idea for tomorrow. Let’s fix up the house, yeah?”

Slimecicle’s eyes light up. “Really? You want to? I’ve been thinking about it too. I mean, when it was just me living out here it was fine--”

Etoiles would beg to differ but that’s neither here nor there.

“But now that you’re around a lot more,” Slimecicle continues. “We really should fix up the place. We can even have visitors!”

For some fucked up reason (It’s his crush. The fucked up reason is his crush.), Etoiles’ gut reaction to the thought of other people coming here is an overwhelming negative. He likes when it’s just him and Slimecicle. And maybe Pomme, if Slimecicle ever gets over his fear of being around the eggs. But it’s not his house (even if it’s starting to feel like it) so he swallows the feeling down and buries it. He’s good at that.

“Actually, Baghera’s been asking to visit! You’re never on when she asks, though. I keep telling her we should wait for you.”

That trickster. She’s going to be the death of him. Thank God for Slimecicle’s…whatever it is that makes him want to wait for Etoiles to be there.

Etoiles finishes wrapping Slimecicle’s arm. The potion infused bandage will stave off infection, even though Etoiles knows that Slimecicle could just respawn if any infection takes hold. He’s too used to death meaning long, harrowing trips, racing against time to try to recover his things. Slimecicle, on the other hand, is a bit too comfortable with dying repeatedly. 

One time, he told Etoiles about another server he was in. He had been a slime hybrid, in that other world, and when he died he had a chance of dropping slime balls. 

“We had a slime farm!” he had explained to Etoiles cheerfully. “On like day one, for me anyway.”

Etoiles had the overwhelming urge to ask more questions, to optimise (because manual or even death by drowning could NOT be the most effective methods. Maybe a magma block? Is that a faster death than suffocation? Wait--).

But he refrained because ohh. That explains a lot about Slimecicle’s perception of death. And lack of survival instincts.

They’re working on it.

“Anyways, I was thinking we could add a bedroom? We’ve been sleeping in the living room so far,” Slimecicle laughs. 

Etoiles looks around the tiny room that constitutes Slimecicle’s house. “Oh, is this the living room?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

“Well, I was thinking it could be! I have a whole thing planned, actually!” Slimecicle looks really excited, and while his skills may not be that good, his ideas are actually pretty cool usually. Etoiles can do the heavy lifting. 

Slimecicle draws out a plan for the house he wants to build, with a separate kitchen and even a dining room. Fancy.

“We’ll have a guest room, of course, and a room for Flippa when she comes back, and then our room can be here!”

“Wait,” Etoiles interrupts before he can stop himself. “Our room?”

Slimecicle looks abashed all of a sudden. “Oh, I mean, if you want your own room you can have it. I just thought, I mean…” He trails off, looking away.

A better man might have left it there, moved on from the awkward moment, but Etoiles is no better man. Information is the key to winning any fight, and what is love if not a battle?

Not that he’s in love. It’s like, a friend love. Or a bit more. He’s not trying to get into Slimecicle’s bed (well he is, but not like that ). It’s difficult to explain how he feels about love. Most of the time, Etoiles doesn’t try. 

“Well, it’s just, when you stay over,” Slimecicle continues, like Etoiles knew he would. The guy can’t stand silence: he’s always got to fill it with something. It makes him extremely easy to interrogate. 

They should work on that, actually. 

“It’s just, you make the monsters go away,” Slimecicle says, voice getting progressively smaller, and oh, Etoiles would kill the world for this man. He knows exactly what Slimecicle is talking about. 

Slimecicle suffers from nightmares, bad ones, and it’s easy to see why. God knows this guy has enough trauma from the server alone, not to mention all the other shit he’s been through. He’s been around long enough that he has that telltale amnesia of an immortal, the hints to past lives that he can’t even remember. Etoiles knows that a lot of people consider BadBoyHalo, Philza, or Foolish the oldest immortals on the server, but secretly he’s pretty sure it’s Slimecicle. The others seem too…lucid. Everyone seems to think Slimecicle’s just quirky though, so he leaves it be. Maybe they haven’t been around the truly ancient immortals enough to tell.

“Okay,” Etoiles says. “That’s fine, I was just asking. We can put our bedroom there.” The phrase ‘our bedroom’ makes something in Etoiles’ chest clench, and he says a silent goodbye to the hole in the ground he was planning on turning into a house. Maybe they can turn it into their bunker or something. Extra storage, perhaps. 

“Are you sure? Because, I mean, well when Mariana comes back I’ll have to kick you out, and maybe it’s better if we just make you a room to begin with--”

“I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom, if he returns,” Etoiles interrupts firmly, even though Slimecicle’s plan makes far more sense. He doesn’t know why he’s disagreeing, it’s the most logical plan given the scenario, but still he finds himself saying “I will sleep with you, in our bedroom, and then when Mariana comes back it will be your guys' bedroom, and I will go to another room. It will be fine.”

The thought of giving up their room to some absent guy (oh yeah, Etoiles found out that Slimecicle’s bitch wife is actually a grown man) makes Etoiles’ skin crawl, and not in the good way like when he’s hunting something. No, it makes him feel like he’s the hunted one, but there’s nothing there. He’s just being unreasonable. 

Besides, it’s all worth it for the smile shining on Slimecicle’s face. “Alright, sounds good, man!” He looks relieved, like Etoiles would ever deny him the comfort of a warm shoulder and a hug after a nightmare. Like Etoiles would ever deny him anything. 

“So that takes care of that!” Slimecicle continues with renewed vigour, turning back to the paper that he laid out on the floor. He keeps talking, explaining his plans and his vision as Etoiles zones out (God, there’s going to be so much resource collection. Etoiles is already running through strategies for maximum efficiency. He’ll have to ask Dapper about his machines, there’s got to be something-- well, anyways). 

Etoiles isn’t an idiot, or at the very least he tries extremely hard not to be. He knows this will all be a blip in Slimecicle’s existence, another forgotten world. He is too smart to wish for forever. But sitting here, Etoiles knows that he will miss this moment, and the many moments after this that they spend together. 

He hopes Slimecicle will miss him too.

Notes:

Holy moly, the response on my last fic was amazing! I was expecting it to get like 10 hits because I know this ship is like, nonexistent, but you guys seemed to really like it! I hope more people come help me fill their tag (because right now, I think it's just me ;-;)

Anyway, thanks for reading! Now with a series you can subscribe to for all your Starcicle brainrot needs.

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