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Chapter Text

“Half a heart left.” Steve propped Garrett over his shoulder, the grown man sinking into his shoulder. “But don’t die. Die. Die”

Garrett coughed up blood, staining Steve’s blue shirt. 

Steve chuckled to himself. “At least we got a fat stack of diamonds. And we know where there’s an Ancient City, fuck dude, we're gonna be loaded.”

Garrett wiped the blood off his mouth, shuffling along the dirt road between the mines and Mid-Port city. They made it back—barely—Garrett’s breath had gone ragged and shallow, and his ordinarily golden, sunkissed skin had turned ghastly pale. He let out a pained groan as Steve set him down into his bed. 

“Here, drink this.” Steve pressed a glowing bottle of liquid to Garrett’s lips, and he drank greedily. He coughed again, with no blood this time, and his skin had already begun to regain its color.

“Hey Steve, let's stay here and do some building tomorrow.”

“Sure, Gar-Gar.”

Eight and a half minutes later, Steve barged down his friend’s door, axe in hand and a stupid smile plastered across his face.

“I think we should build a new house, something totally epic.” Garrett pulled a stack of glass blocks from a furnace, tucking it into his pouch. 

“Ya’ know, we should. I did some scouting a couple of weeks ago, and I might have the perfect place in mind.” Steve said as he equipped his elytra.

They flew out from Mid-Port City, following the curve of the coastline and dodging in and out of the terrain as they felt confident. The landscape shifted under them, changing from the plains into the rocky mountains with cliffs plunging straight into the dark sea beneath them. In an act of bravery and hubris, Garrett swept low, enraging the Drowned in the salty depths.

“This is it,” Steve called, taking perch ideally on a single block.

Garrett—less experienced with his wings, crashed into the rock face and needed to crush two chickens to regain his strength, “Steve, I don’t know how to tell you this, but there’s no land here to build on.”

“Oh young crafter, first, WE MINE,” Steve announced, drew his netherite pick, and smashed through a cubic meter of stone in a single strike. Again and again, he destroyed the rock face, carving out the opening of the large, round tunnel.

“Steve, I don’t know what you’re cooking, but I fuck with it.” Garrett didn’t wait another second before joining his friend. 

It took a few days of mining, crafting, and building, but finally, the opening of their house was finished and decorated.  It was built so they could fly in and land with their elytra and decorated well enough that any girls wouldn’t mock them and their imperial brutalism—but also because sometimes a bush of azalea leaves makes a home. The entry tunnel was carved two dozen or so meters into the cliff and had a second floor with a wrap-around balcony where they had carved out a bedroom with impressive glass windows looking over the sea. 

Even Dennis 2 had a warm bed beside their central fireplace. Once, on a resource mission, Garrett stumbled across a parrot, and now that stupid fuck-ass thing made monster noises every hour of the day. More than once, Steve was caught forcing cookies down its gullet. 

“Gar-Gar, I think we did it.”

“Yup,” Garrett removed his sweaty helmet and set it atop the armor stand. “There’s one more thing.” He pulled a single red bed from his inventory, holding the entire thing in a single hand as he contemplated the fung-shei of the room.

Steve’s heart stirred. He’d planned on precisely this. The room was an even number in both directions, and only a manic would put their bed in the corner or off-center. Even the bookshelves were set up perfectly for the maneuver Steve was about to pull off. 

But Garrett didn’t fall for it. 

He didn’t fucking fall for it. Without hesitation, he threw his bed on the other side of the bookshelf, closing it off with a barrel and lantern.

Steve’s lip quivered, but he choked it back, feigning an heir of nonchalance. “Where- Where should I put mine down.”

Garrett waved him off, cleaning out the important items in his inventory and tucking them safely into his storage, “Wherever you think it looks best.”

“oh.”

Steve did that. Placing it down while looking out the window, lest his friend could see him cry.

Garrett yawned, stretching wide and arching his back. “It’s getting late. We should hit the hay before too many mobs spawned.” He crawled under the sheets of his single-wide bed and smiled fondly while looking over at his friend before rolling over, flicking off his lantern, and promptly falling asleep.

Sleep did not come as quickly to Steve, who tossed and turned in his own single-wide bed and eventually gave up on the notion of sleep altogether. He instead took to strolling the empty hall of their house—not home—and staring at the full moon and its reflection across the ocean. He drank three bottles o’ enchanting, back to back, until his brain didn’t work well enough to separate reality from fiction.

Ghosts, there were ghosts in these halls. Steve stumbled forward, transfixed on the massive painting of him and Garrett that hung over the fireplace. It took him three days and four trips to the flower forest to gather enough dye, but that didn’t matter to Garrett, did it? In a drunken plague, he charged forward, gripping the canvas and ripping it apart, leaving the remnants of their friendship—and nothing more—hung over the fire. 

Hatred bubbled into him and stung Steve’s throat, forcing its way out as a pile of vomit on the floor. He hated himself. He hated Garrett. And he Hated this stupid fucking world they’d built together.

He stared out over the ocean minutes later without recollecting the time between. The sun would rise in a few minutes, and so would Garrett. But Steve wouldn’t be there. 

He stepped both feet onto the spruce railing, letting the salty wind rip through his long hair. And before he could talk himself out of it, he jumped.

Chapter Text

Garrett awoke--ripped from his dreams of giant eyes and walls of flesh--to the thick, cancerous cloud of smoke that filled his bedroom. He leaped from his bed and grabbed a water bucket from the barrel beside him. Garrett sprinted out into the central hall of his house, the wooden structure engulfed in flames. He splashed them back, thickening the air with steam and heat that made it hard to breathe. 

“Steve!” He shouted, emptying his bucket and putting out the last fire. 

“Steve!” He called out again, stepping towards what was once their beautiful fireplace. The painting, which had been ripped across the canvas, had given the fire a chance to leap over the stone bricks and destroy their house. 

“Steve!” He called a third time. He turned around, facing the opening of their base. 

The husky figure stood against the glow of dawn, but before Garrett could say another word, he leaped, sailing through the air.

Time froze. Garrett rushed to the balcony, looking down into the depths below. He could spot his friend—or his friend’s body—anywhere.

Not again. The words rang in Garrett’s ears, and he didn’t waste another second to act, not that he normally did. He grabbed the green turtle shell helmet from a decorative armor stand and pulled a trident off the wall, diving head-first into the sea below.

He broke the water, floating for a moment as the pain of impact subsided and the chill of the water numbed his bones. The bubble of air floated past him. Beneath him, Steve’s still body sunk through the water, and a pack of the Drowned moved in. 

Fuck ass wet zombies, Garrett thought to himself. But that didn’t dissuade him. He lifted the trident beside his ear and threw it, piercing straight through the Drowned’s head. The monster was reduced to nothing but a cloud of white and a piece of copper. 

With a magical twinge, the trident returned to Garrett’s hand. But the fuck-ass-ary was not over. The other two monsters turned their attention away from Steve. Garrett dodged as one of them threw their trident, and before he could recover, they launched another. It sunk into his muscular thigh, filling the water with a cloud of blood. 

He kicked through the pain, getting close enough to stab the fork of his weapon into the monster’s torso and using his weight to bludgeon the other. Both disappeared, only leaving behind their garbage-ass rotten flesh.

Steve now rested on the ocean floor. Within the minute, Garrett was atop him, strapping on the helmet and dragging his heavy body. His lungs screamed for breath as he broke the surface. He kicked furiously, the pain in his leg unbearable, and he dragged Steve and himself onto the small beach near their base.

“Don’t die,” Garrett beat Steve’s chest, “You can’t fucking die.”

A well-placed hit and Steve coughed up a mouthful of seawater.

“Steve?” Garrett whispered, bringing his ear close to his chest to hear his heartbeat.

“Gar-G—” Steve coughed up another mouthful of seawater.

Garrett wiped a tear away, trying to play it off as salt dripping into his eyes, “Why the fuck did you do that?”

Steve’s lip trembled. “Gar—” He reached a hand up, draping it over Garrett’s muscular shoulder, “you’re bleeding.”

“Fuck you mean— Of course, I’m bleeding. The Drowned can go fuck themselves 'cause I’m building differently.”

“But—But you’re hurt. You jumped in to save me, and you got hurt?”

“You’re not talking clearly, Steve. Course, I’d risk my life to save you. I love you, man.”

Steve didn’t bother hiding his happiness, the smile breaking across his face like a puppy. He pulled himself, exerting all of his waning energy, and—for the first moment in a long time, his mind wasn’t muddled or polluted—kissed Garrett.

And Garrett kissed him back.

Chapter Text

Six minutes later, under the heat of the noon sun, Garrett and Steve awoke. Garrett’s leg wound had slowly stopped bleeding, painting the beach red and sticky. The big man climbed slowly to his feet, avoiding putting any pressure on the leg. 

“Easy, Gar-Gar.” Steve smiled, once again taking Garrett’s weight onto his shoulder.

The man grunted and followed Steve’s guide as they returned to the cliff face. The climb would be impossible, but they’d thought of that. Steve slammed his fist into a well-hidden stone button. Pistons whirred, and a hidden door opened.

The two men lumbered in. Two water columns are filled with bubbles at the back of the short tunnel, one sucking them down to a magma block, and the other—the one they would take—was bottomed with soul sand. 

Garrett sucked in a breath and stepped into the bubble elevator. He shot upwards and, a second later, was inside their base. Steve followed suit. “I’ve got what I need to treat you up here; hang on a second.”

Garrett groaned, gripping his leg. The bleeding may have stopped, but the exposed and broken bone still hurt. “Thank fuck.”

Steve stepped out and returned with the stuff he needed a few seconds later. He kneeled and removed a chunk of wool, dousing it in a healing potion and packing in the gaping wound. He splinted the broken leg. 

His friend would be walled up for the next few days, but he’d survive. But he couldn’t stand the pained look on his face; no amount of healing potion would soothe the pain—but something else would.

“Last thing, drink this.” Steve reached into his pocket, producing a bottle o’ enchanting.

Garrett squirmed backward, pain from his leg pulsing through his entire body, “Woah, Steve, why do you have that? I thought you quit.”

“It’s not like that Gar-Gar,” Steve tried to calm his friend through the panic, “I keep a few around just for emergencies.”

“No. Steve.” Garrett glared at him, “You said you quit. This doesn’t look like quitting.”

Steve set the bottle down. “It’s for emergencies. That’s it. If you don’t want it, fine.”

“Steve, I know you better than anyone. You’re my best friend, Nether; I might know you better than you. Why do you have the bottle o’ enchanting?”

“Because I don’t feel clean if I can’t decide to drink,” Steve shouted. “So I returned to mid-point city a few weeks ago and traded for them.”

“And you haven’t drunk any?”

Steve hesitated, but not long enough for Garrett to notice. “I haven’t.”

“Alright then, fine. Just a sip.” 

Steve lifted the bottle to Garrett’s lips, pouring only a mouthful of the golden liquid. Garrett drank it greedily, feeling the pain subside and the gentle numbness of enchantment. 

“Thanks, Steve. But do something for me, pour out the rest. Please. For me.”

Steve’s hands trembled, the liquid sloshing around in the bottle. Garrett stared up at him with big brown eyes full of hope and fear. “Alright.” He walked over slowly to the balcony, ensuring Garrett saw him. He stood over the sea, looking back down into the water. The thought of jumping flashed into his mind only once, and he was pushed out before he could act. He pulled the bottle out and sloshed the liquid around. Checking back to make sure Garrett was still watching, he faked pouring the liquid out, stashing it away in a nearby pot.

“There you go, Garrett,” Steve returned and helped him to his feet. Gently, they walked over to the couch and lowered the massive man back down. “There’s no way you’re getting up the ladder, so I might as well bring your bed down here.”

“Hey Steve, Why don’t you bring your bed down too.”

Chapter Text

Steve pulled the roast chicken from the furnace, setting it down gently before the heat burnt his hand. He portioned up a serving, ready to bring it over to Garrett—secretly, he was really getting into this nurse-patient dynamic and had grown sad at the prospect that in a few more days, his best friend would be up and adventuring again—when a someone else glided in through their open door. She landed gently, unequipping her elytra and hanging them against the wall.

“Marlene?” Garrett asked, sitting up in bed. “What are you doing here?”

After she had gotten remarried, they honeymooned in the overworld, and a few times in the years since, they had taken vacations there. Almost always, she was accompanied by the villager, but this time, she’d come alone.

“𝒪𝒽, 𝒢𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉, 𝐼𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒽𝒶𝒹𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉𝑜𝓊𝓉𝑜𝒻𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒—𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓈𝓉𝓊𝓅𝒾𝒹𝓂𝒶𝓃. ” Tears streaked through her mascara.

Steve rushed over and took her by the arm, leading her to their couch, “What happened? You two were doing so well.”

She sobbed again, “𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓁, 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝐼𝑔𝑜𝓉𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝑜𝓉𝑒𝒹𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓎𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓁𝒷𝑜𝒶𝓇𝒹,”

“Go off, Queen,” Garrett interjected.

“𝒜𝓃𝒹𝒩𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓂𝑒𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒷𝓊𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎, 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒶𝓁𝑜𝒾𝓁𝓈, 𝒶𝓃𝒹𝐼𝒷𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓂𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓅𝒶𝒸𝓀, 𝒷𝓊𝓉𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓃𝑜𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝒜𝓃𝒹𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃𝒽𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝒹𝒶𝓅𝑜𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓈𝓉, 𝒶𝓃𝒹𝐼𝒷𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒻𝒻𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉, 𝒷𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒾𝓉'𝓈𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝑜𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓀𝑒𝓉.”

Steve shook his head. He’d only met Nitty a handful of times, and even then, he was confident that man had no business anywhere near personal finance.

Marlene continued, “𝐵𝓊𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒽𝒶𝒹𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓉𝑜𝒹𝑜𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒸𝓇𝓎𝓅𝓉𝑜𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃𝒸𝓎𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓀𝑒𝓉--𝐼𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝐼𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒿𝑜𝒷--𝒷𝓊𝓉𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉𝓂𝓎𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓃.”

“Well, our casa is your casa.” Garrett got up on his crutches, making his way over.

“𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒢𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓂𝑒.”

“Actually, This is great. We’ve been running low on supplies, and if you’re going to hang out here, I can take the time I need to out adventuring. Garrett just needs some help with things; it's nothing serious, just food and stuff. If you could do that, it would be a great help.”

“𝒪𝒽, 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒, 𝐼𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒𝒷𝒾𝓉. 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎𝐼𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝒷𝑒𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𝒟𝑜𝑒𝓈𝒟𝑜𝑜𝓇𝒟𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝒾𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝑜𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒𝑜𝒻𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑒?” Marlene wiped away her last tears, “𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓁𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓉𝓂𝑒𝐼'𝓂𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈𝓈. 𝐿𝑒𝓉𝓂𝑒𝑔𝑜𝒸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓅.” She left.

As soon as she had disappeared into their bathroom, Garrett lowered his voice to just above a whisper, “Just necessities, that’s what you’re getting. Right Steve?” He phrased it like a question, but nothing about his tone suggested as such.

“Yeah, Gar-Gar, We’ve got four potatoes left, and then we will be stuck eating rotten flesh.”

“Steve, it’s just that I worry about you. I don’t want you to do damage you can’t undo.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond but stopped as Marleen returned from the bathroom.

“𝐿𝑜𝑜𝓀, 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝒸𝓇𝒶𝓏𝓎𝒷𝑜𝓎𝓈, 𝐼'𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓈𝑒𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓉𝑜𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓊𝓉. 𝒢𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉'𝓁𝓁𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈.”

“We’ll alright.” Garrett looked up to Steve as he rose to leave, silently pleading for him to make the right choice.

Steve grabbed his adventuring shulker box from the wall and equipped his elytra. He glanced back at Garrett, trying to ignore his silent begs. “Bye.” That was all he could say before he leaped off the balcony, his wings filled with air, and he took to the sky.

Neither Garrett nor Marleen had much to say to each other, mostly just small talk about her job. Someone knocked on the door as they ran out of topics, and Marleen rushed to greet them. 

“₱ⱠɆ₳₴Ɇ ₥₳'₳₥, ɆӾ₵Ʉ₴Ɇ ₥Ɏ ł₦₮ɆⱤⱤɄ₱₮łØ₦. ฿Ʉ₮ ₮ⱧɆ ₥Ø₦₴₮ɆⱤ₴, ₮ⱧɆɎ ₵Ɽ₳VɆ ₥Ɏ ₣ⱠɆ₴Ⱨ, ₳₦Đ ł ₣Ɇ₳Ɽ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ł₣ ł ₴₮₳Ɏ ØɄ₮ ⱧɆⱤɆ, ₮ⱧɆɎ'ⱠⱠ ₥₳₭Ɇ QɄł₵₭ ₩ØⱤ₭ Ø₣ ₥Ɇ.” A villager stood outside, slightly different from the one Marleen had left at home. The sun set quickly behind him, and the first monsters climbed out of the darkness. This villager wore an intricate blue robe and kept two llamas behind him on leads.

“𝒪𝒽, 𝑜𝒻𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒, 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓎𝒷𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓎. 𝒯𝒾𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓈𝓊𝓅𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓀𝑒𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒.” She pulled him inside just as the zombies turned their anger to him.

“Fuck yeah, Wandering Trader, got anything good?” Garrett asked as the villager entered his base.

“ł'VɆ ₲Ø₮ ₴Ø₥Ɇ ₣ⱠØ₩ɆⱤ₴, ₳ ₴ⱧɆⱠⱠ, ₳ ₵ⱧɆⱤⱤɎ ₴₳₱Ⱡł₦₲, ₳₦Đ ₴Ø₥Ɇ ₵ØⱤ₳Ⱡ, ₩₳₦₮ ₳₦Ɏ₮Ⱨł₦₲.”

“Eh, I’ll pass,” Garrett said with a wave.

The wandering trader nodded and followed Marleen up to the guest bedroom. “𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓁𝓁𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔𝒾𝓃𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒.” Her mouth watered slightly, and she choked back the extra saliva building in her mouth. The trader had removed his shapeless cloak, revealing his rippling abs and muscular thighs through his tunic shift.

Marleen sat on the corner of the bed, dropping her neckline over “𝒮𝑜, 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈𝒾𝓉𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇?”

“₳ ⱠØ₮ Ø₣ ⱠØ₦ɆⱠɎ ₦ł₲Ⱨ₮₴” he smiled, knowingly.

“𝐻𝑜𝓅𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎, 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓁𝓎.”

Tension hung between them. A second later, Marleen was on top of him, their lips locked and their tongues fighting between their mouths. Marleen ground her womanhood against his knees, running her hands up and down his square back.

The wandering trader returned the favor, pulling her dress over her head and undoing her bra with a swift motion. He grabbed her by her hips with his muscular hands and pulled her over his face. She bucked her hips, rubbing herself against his nose and loudly moaning with the motion. She moved faster, bringing her closer and closer to release.

The trader rolled on top of her. He reached a hand down and slid her panties down over her perky ass. He gripped her with a firm hand, squeezing and massaging her tender flesh. He pulled his tunic over his hips and slipped his villager-hood in.

She beat her fists on his chest, and he pushed himself further against her. The bed creaked beneath them.

Downstairs, Garrett had returned to his empty bed. The sounds echoed through the base, and without a way to escape, he pressed the pillow over his head and slowly fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Steve heaved the pickaxe over his shoulder, striking the stone. Cracks snaked out to the end, and the cubic meter of stone condensed into a two-inch cube he could slip into his pocket. He wiped the sweat from his brow. Physical labor destroyed his body, but it kept his mind from dragging him back to the bottle o’ enchanting that was growing heavier in his sachel by the hour. He broke another block to keep himself sane. 

Caves have always done this to him; at least, that's what Steve always told himself. There was something about the sounds and the fog that never let him feel comfortable in his skin: he rounded the corner of the cave, feeling the sudden natural high of that perfect sparkling blue rock. He rushed over, dropping down a small overhang. 

He stood atop the stone, swinging the axe down repeatedly. He ripped chunks of stone away, revealing more and more of the diamonds. The rock disappeared, turning into an egg-like stone, but without anything to stand on, Steve fell through the hole, dropping into the hot lava below. 

Steve screamed. The flesh of his body crisped over and charred through. He tried to swim, but he barely got anywhere through the lava's pain and thickness. In the seconds before he slipped away to the aether, he saw Garrett’s face and the wonderful moments he’d spent with him. 

A face, disguised behind a white mask, peaked down the hole. It reached down, grabbing Steve by the collar of his shirt and pulling him from the lava, and that’s the last Steve remembered before slipping away in shock.

He woke up hours later, his health low, but the burning had stopped. He had been pulled into a small room carved into the stone, the only entrance sealed up behind him. The green, masked man moved around in dramatic, jerky movements—never staying in one place for long, switching between the furnace and crafting bench on the room's far wall. Steve tried to remain calm, wanting to observe the man a little longer.

The man had gone through Steve’s things, and he’d definitely drank at least one of the bottle o’ enchantings. The clutter that had filled his satchel—granite, rooted dirt, copper—was discarded haphazardly into the corner until it disappeared. He was working on something, and Steve was strained to get a better look.

He heard him. The man swung his head around. The mask disguised his features; somehow, Steve was thankful for that. From what he could make out, the man was sickly and haunted, something deeply wrong with his psyche.

“You’re awake,” the man hissed out. 

Steve couldn’t fake unconsciousness. He sat up slowly, not wanting to spook the man. “Who are you, and why did you save me.”

“My name is Dream.” He spoke in a steady and monotone voice.

“Okay, Dream. Where am I.”

He perked his head up, scanning the air above him as if he were listening to something only he could hear. 

“What’s happening?” Steve asked, climbing to his feet. 

“Shut up, shut the fuck up.” He returned to listening for a second. “Fuck, I need to go, they’re almost on me.”

“What? Who? Dream, what the fuck is going on.”

“They’re after me.” Dream shoved a bag into Steve’s hands, “Follow me, and shut the fuck up.”

Before Steve could ask another question, Dream filled the room behind him and dug a rat tunnel into the wall, slipping away into the darkness and leaving no trace of their existence behind. He did as he was told, too scared to say anything to the possibly insane man. 

They made it through the cave and out into the surface. Dream was right; someone had been there. Fresh tracks had been made in the mud, and a crafting table that was definitely not there before had been placed alongside the cave's opening.

“Fuck dude, they were closer than I thought. You’ve got a base, right? Is there somewhere I could crash for a few days?”

Steve stepped back; in the light of day, the short man was more wildly than he thought, practically flinching in the sunlight.

“Come on, man, I saved your life. You owe me.”

“Fine, but it's kinda far. And we’ll have to go by boat; I don’t have a second pair of elytra.” There were other options for two men sharing a pair of elytra, but there was no way Steve would 69 with this thing.

Dream scratched at his arms, “that's fine. Actually, it’s better. The hounds can’t track over water.” He reached through his satchel, handing Steve a boat. The two men started their walk, mostly in silence. At least Steve was silent; Dream continuously mumbled to himself about ADHD, being bullied as a child, and playing 4D chess. Steve knew better than to interact with tweakers. 

They reached the beach, Steve’s base only a short, multi-day boat ride away. Steve sat in the front, Dream behind him. 

The endless monotony of the sea crept into Steve’s mind, and eventually, he cracked, breaking the silence and asking Dream about his mask. The men had spent days together and never had Dream even motioned to remove his mask. 

“I wear a mask with a smile for hours at a time. Stare at the ceiling while I try to hold back what’s on my mind,” He spoke the words as if this was a song, but without changing the tone or rhythm of his voice, it came off with a strange chant-like speech of a teenage boy. But he was certainly not a teenager, even if he acted that way. “And when they ask me how I’m doing, I’ll say I’m doing fine.”

“Oh, cool, dude,” Steve said flatly, hoping that Dream would understand his lack of interest and drop the subject.

“But the fact is, I can never get off my mattress,” Dream did not, “and all that they can ask is, why are you so sad, kid.”

Steve cursed himself for bringing it up. At that moment, he seriously considered throwing himself into the ocean and letting the Drowned rip him apart limb by limb.

“You can see I’m trying. You can’t see me crying.”

“Dude, shut the fuck up. We're almost there anyway. No one cares that much. If it really bothers you, you should try therapy, not bitching about it to strangers.” Steve rowed forward, their base coming into view. Dream looked up in awe, finally going silent, though perhaps he was crying, not that Steve cared much anyway.

That's what the point of the mask is, after all.

Chapter Text

Dream made himself at home as soon as he entered their base.

“What the fuck is the deal with him?” Garrett whispered to Steve behind the safety of his hand.

“I don’t know. He keeps going on about his mask and the manhunters. But Garrett, he saved my life; crashing here for weeks is the least I can do.”

“I get that, and I was totally fine with giving him a place to crash, but maybe he could do at least a dish. Who are these manhunters, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Steve hesitated, building the confidence to speak to the tweaker, “Hey Dream, so we totally love having you around, but when approximately are you planning on leaving?”

“They’ve yet to find me; I’ve got time to prep.”

“Great, great, great, great.” Garrett interjected, approaching Dream, “And who are the ‘they’ that are hunting you?”

“The FBI.” Steve pulled a cooked chicken from a chest and ate it in a single bite.

“Okay, Dream,” Steve stepped back, “why are the FBI hunting you down?”

“I may, perchance, have a few teensy, weensy child grooming allegations.”

“You GROOMED A CHILD.”

“He said allegations,” Garrett said, putting emphasis on the s, “Steve. He groomed multiple children.”

“It’s not like that,” Dream hissed, but unable to come up with a follow-up statement, slipped back into the shadows and took a seat on their couch.

Chapter Text

Sleep came hard to them that night, and many nights after. They’d pushed their crafting bench across the door, but if he strained his ears against the darkness, Garrett could hear the steady breathing and scratching of Dream through the wood. It had been a fortnight since they’d confronted the man, and even bringing out full diamond armor and enchanted swords, he remained undeterred, doing some freak ass flip around all their attacks, and somehow leaving Garrett and Steve tangled in cobwebs with their thumbs in their asses.

“We need to get that fucking freak out of our house,” Garrett whispered. Even in the earliest hours of the morning, he could hear Dream scampering around.

Steve wiped the sleep from his eyes. “I’ve been thinking there might be a way.”

Garret sat bolt upright, “What do you mean? Why haven’t we done this sooner?”

“Gar-gar, this may take more than you’re expecting. See, tales about this land and ancient texts speak of ancient powers. I stole a copy of it from Maldosia.”

“Steve, I’d do anything short of cutting my cock off to get Dream out of our house; whatever the fuck these old gods are, they’re better than him.”

Steve slowly roused himself from the bed, the cool night air blowing across his bare ass cheeks, “Alright then, let's go summon them.”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“I love the view, but how about you put on some pants first?” Garrett smacked Steve’s ass playfully as he left, enjoying the morning air crisp and cool against his tanned skin. 

Diamond pants equipped, they stepped effortlessly into the bubble elevator, being dragged instantly down to bedrock level. Mysterious sound and dense fog haunted their every step, and their heads remained on a swivel, as if the footsteps they heard in the darkness were anything but their overactive imagination.

Steve took the lead, wandering deeper and deeper into the depths of their storage system. Only their most powerful and precious loot was stored so far away from their base. Steve had buried the goods long ago, realizing almost instantly the power of the object he held and knowing that it would be both useful in the future and possibly the death of all civilization. Even if the piglins staged another attack, they would never have it, and every night Steve thanked god for that.

He counted his steps and, to Garrett, randomly stopped, pointing out a particular pattern in the unbreakable stone. He stepped one block to the side and, breaking the deep slate with one motion. He cleared the rubble back from the barrel and cracked it open. Delicately, he removed a table wrapped in a thick silicone case. He needed to pry his finger free—it was unexplainably sticky. Crumbs stuck to his fingers and tumbled off the device, and no matter how forcefully he wiped them away, more appeared to take their place.

“This is it?” Garret asked, reaching for it, before Steve could yank it away. “It looks like my niece’s iPad.”

“You’re niece is disgusting,” Steve said, as he turned the device on. Garrett nodded in silent agreement, watching as his friend swiped through the apps, carefully picking the red and white YouTube button. His finger hovered over a grainy thumbnail. “Seriously, Gar-gar, are you sure you want to do this. There’s no undoing this, and perhaps it’s just nostalgia, but I think this might just make our problem worse.”

“I’m certain,” Garrett announced, and pressed the video in Steve’s place.

The device's speakers sparked and crackled as an ear-piercing, man-child-like scream blasted from the tiny device. It grew hot in Steve’s hands, and six seconds later, the device’s screen turned black.

“Did—” Garrett hesitated, “it work?” 

His sentences were punctuated with crumbling rock from the cave above them. Fear washed over the grown men.

“Notch save our souls.”