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Stepping through the portal that connects Hermitcraft to the wider universe, Scar braces himself against the smooth obsidian, grateful for the cool stone beneath his palm. After a day of taxing situations, both physical and mental, quiet was what Scar craved. Minecraft Championships was something he looked forward to monthly, and he was happy and honored to be included, but he can’t deny the toll it puts upon his mind and body. This was his best MCC performance thus far, and he grins thinking of his 26th individual placement – his highest score yet. While the other participating Hermits returned to the server ages ago, Scar decided to stick around, needing to desperately burn off some pent-up energy by chatting with new friends. HBomb and Pete were such fun guys, and he socialized so little outside of Hermitcraft; it would be a waste to let those friendships fall to the wayside because of something as trivial as exhaustion.
Of course, as he takes his first shaky steps toward his home, he questions his decision-making ability. Who thought allowing him to make decisions was a good idea anyway?
It isn’t long before Scar stumbles to the entrance of his tree, taking a moment to wave hello to the ravager looming within the foliage down the path. A bath is what he craves, and he uses his remaining energy to barrel through his home, straight to the bathing area he’d set up, hidden from prying eyes. Not like anyone has actively pried on him, but a man can never be too careful on any server containing Zedaph and his spyglass.
Allowing the water to rush over him, Scar lolls his head back, thoughts drifting to the day now behind him. He had done his best and was pleased with the results of his practice. And, to be honest, he was even more pleased with everyone else’s praise of his newfound improvement. The tips you’d suggested to him had paid off tenfold, and Scar can only hope he is on an upward trajectory from here on out.
The recollection of practice slowly fades, leaving only thoughts of the one thing he had spent all day attempting to avoid focusing on; you. You had yet to get your invitation to MCC, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time now. Your skill speaks for itself, and if it weren’t for the already long waiting list, your name would have made it onto a team based on skill alone. Skills, Scar hates to say, he finds overwhelmingly attractive. He isn’t quite sure why watching you hit crits on mobs is so mesmerizing, but it is. He should probably unpack that one day, but today is not the day for introspection.
Pulling himself out of the bath before his thoughts take a turn, he dries off, heading to his bedroom to dress. Jellie lies across the middle of his bed - her bed, really - stretched in a way that seems physically impossible for a cat to take up so much room.
“Why, hello Jellie! How’s my girl doing? Did you miss me?” He asks, deft fingers scratching at her head as she pushes into his palm. Scar revels in the consistent purr she emits, immediately overwhelmed by a sense of comfort.
Tossing on some more casual attire, Scar shakes his head a few times, deciding to forgo drying his hair and allowing it to air dry. Jellie has abandoned him, jumping from his bed to a windowsill, enraptured by something beyond Scar’s field of vision. Scar’s not entirely sure what to do with himself now. Most of the Hermits will be preparing for their evenings, and he’s far too drained to begin working on a project. Perhaps a bit of fresh air will clear his mind.
Scar heads outside, resting in the cool shade granted to him by his build. Though it’s nearing dinner time and the traces of dusk are filtering in, the heat hangs heavy in the air. It’s not so much stifling as it is irritating; a sign that summer is finally on its way out but continues to clutch desperately to the world. He can vaguely hear Mumbo and Grian yelling not too far away and, for a moment, contemplates joining in their fun but shakes off the urge. He finds himself enjoying the white noise of the area, already maxed out after the roar of MCC. Leaning back into the stone adorning his home’s entrance, he takes a moment to close his eyes and savor the soft breeze, the shouts of his friends fading into the distance. He specifically built the door to his base this way, tucked downhill just enough where he can be outside but not necessarily be seen. Calm in the eye of the storm, a place of comfort, a home where-
“So, do I need to start calling you Sand Daddy now?”
Scar’s head jerks forward, lifting away from the entrance toward the source of your voice, eyes crinkling as he squints into the setting sun to make out your silhouette. He finally spots you a few feet away, back pressed into the wooden trunk of the acacia tree shrouding the area in patches of light and shadow. Scar’s exhaustion fades into the back of his mind as his eyes take you in, unable to tell if you’re there or if the effects of the day have simply caught up to him.
“Hello?” Scar asks, voice shaky.
“You did well.”
Ah. So that is you. Gathering himself quickly, Scar fires back.
“I’m sorry. Care to repeat that?” Scar is fully aware you can hear the smirk in his voice, and he’s banking on your annoyance to continue this conversation.
“Are you asking because you couldn’t understand or just to hear me praise you again?”
Scar doesn’t miss a beat.
“Does it matter?”
“Absolutely. I’m much more willing to clarify than compliment; you know that.”
“So you were impressed!” Scar exclaims. Crossing his arms over his chest, Scar shifts his weight to the right, allowing his shoulder to fall to the wall. Under the lanterns adorning his walkway, Scar looks mischievous, shrouded in shadow.
Scar sighs overdramatically, knowing it will humor you.
“And to think, here I was, thinking you would come and tell me I’m a parkour god, the true H0tGuY, the king of Rocket Spleef. Instead, I get a ‘you did well.’ How demoralizing after that amazin’ MCC practice we did.”
The quiet of Scar’s base allows him to hear you giggle, which is his goal in any situation.
“I assure you, I planned to come over here to shower you with praise regardless of the outcome, but then I watched MCC and heard everyone calling you Sand Daddy. I can’t beat that nickname; why even try?” You ask with a chuckle, descending the pathway to saunter directly into Scar’s eye line.
“Hey, I earned that one!”
You laugh as you raise your hands in defense, shifting onto your heels.
“I’m not arguing! Though you did kind of call yourself that, but I’ll let it slide. The practice absolutely helped. You guys killed it out there.” You admit, allowing your hands to drop to your sides as you look up to meet Scar’s eyes.
The soft breeze returns, tickling lightly on your skin yet heavy enough to blow a few errant hairs directly into Scar’s eyes. He attempts to flick them away with a snap of his head but fails, only bringing more into his line of sight. He huffs, shifting his gaze to the stray hair as if glaring at it will force it to behave. It’s wonderfully endearing, and the tips of his slightly pointed ears rush red with embarrassment.
“Do you really think I did well?” Scar says, eyes still trained on his own hair.
“I suppose you didn’t do too bad,” you offer with an exaggerated shrug, so he understands you’re teasing. Scar’s lip quirks just enough for you to know he picked up on it, but he stays silent. Clearly, he needs more convincing. You drop all pretense and speak in your normal voice, devoid of teasing.
“You did amazingly well. I was screaming my head off the entire event. We all were, to be fair, but I think I might have burst poor Stress’s eardrums during Rocket Spleef. Even the events you did so-so on were a vast improvement from your last MCC. People were talking about how they underestimated you. So yeah, I guess you did do well. You may even convince me to say I’m proud of you, but I’m not tired enough to let that one slip yet,” You joke, winking at him.
Even in the orange-hued light given off by the lanterns, Scar knows you can see the blush on his face. He’s not going to try and hide it; there's no point in covering for what he already suspects you know. Scar’s enamored with you, and any crumb of attention you’re willing to throw his way will have him on cloud nine for the next week. That little speech was enough to satiate him for the rest of the year. Face burning, Scar meets your eyes and is shaken by the soft gaze you’re returning to him. Gone is your trademark smirk, the glint of trouble that’s always simmering just beneath the surface. Here he sees you laid bare, and he can’t deny how happy he is that you spoke honestly.
“Thank you,” he manages to verbalize, “that means a lot.”
You scoff lightly. “Just speaking the truth. You shouldn’t be so surprised. You’re pretty impressive on an average day already.” You reply, voice with just a tinge more edge than before. “I mean that last round of Rocket Spleef; I didn’t realize you were such a show-off!”
It’s Scar’s turn to laugh now as he thinks back to that moment. His team was cheering for him, egging him on to show these kids how it’s done. He may be good with a bow, but anyone who wants to hit ultra peak velocity shots, as he calls them, needs to know how to dodge and weave with the best of them. Everyone in MCC is talented, but it was nice to show some of the PVPers they should try picking up an elytra once in a while.
“What can I say? Top Gun isn’t going to remake itself! Figured it was worth giving everyone a bit of a show.”
“Oh, you gave everyone a show, that’s for sure, H0tGuY,” you joke, taking a step closer to Scar. “It was nice seeing you confident out there. You looked good.” Your smirk remains, but there’s a new glint in your eyes. One Scar has seen in fleeting moments, but as you hold his gaze, the look burns through his very core.
“Did I now?” Scar asks, eyebrow quirked. Unsure he is reading this situation correctly, Scar attempts to stay on solid ground, but your compliments go straight to his head.
“Mmhm. How often do I have to say it before you believe it?”
“Roughly ten thousand more times. By then, we might get over the worst of it.”
“Hmm. Better get started. I’ll need a dictionary to satiate you, I think.” You joke, looking up at Scar through your lashes.
“I’ll order you one of those word of the day calendars for the holidays. Maybe you can use that for some inspiration!”
Laughing, you’re fully aware that Scar would do something exactly like that just to follow through on the joke.
“Wow, compliments and a challenge all rolled into one; you know me too well. All of my favorite things.”
“Two down, how many to go?”
“Oh c’mon, Scar, I’m sure you can figure that out for yourself, don’t you think?”
There’s a tension permeating the air, similar to when a thunderstorm is on the way, but nary a raindrop has fallen. A storm that has been building since this conversation started. Neither wishes to drop their gaze, but you look away first, eyes trailing down Scar’s face and over his body. Your eyes flick back up, a soft smile again playing on your lips. The space between you is respectable, close enough, but nothing improper, at least not yet. You lean forward just a tad, enough where you can make out the scent of Scar’s body wash but not crash into his chest.
“As a heads up, get some good rest tonight. I think Keralis will be waking us all up unfathomably early.” You say with a grin.
“Keralis? Why would he be gathering us all so early?” Scar asks, already counting back the hours from morning to determine what constitutes a good night’s sleep.
“Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but apparently, he wanted to celebrate how good y’all did today. Breakfast buffet at the Bamboo lounge. You know how Keralis loves to throw a soiree.”
“…Wasn’t she in High School Musical?’
“A soiree Scar, not Sharpay. A party. He’s throwing a party in the morning,” You reply, desperately attempting to hide your laughter and failing miserably.
“Ah. Well, that does make more sense. Though, oddly enough, if anyone were a friend of someone in that movie, I’d place a bet on Keralis.”
“I…I honestly can’t argue with you there.”
A peaceful silence falls as you exchange smiles. Scar shifts, crossing his arms again, and you can’t fight the urge to ogle the way his slender fingers lay across his bicep. Scar’s always been an attractive man, but you can’t deny he is far more toned than you noticed. The unexpected muscle paired with the soft, comfortable-looking tee and sweatpants combination he’s wearing sends your brain into overdrive. You’d helped him film Hotguy: The Siege, yet this was the most attractive he’s ever looked. Between the dressed-down outfit and the messy, fluffy hair Scar is currently rocking, the moment suggests domesticity. It’s cozy, one could say. Life is nice like this; warm and safe amidst the trees and dimmed lights of Scar’s base.
“Are you going to be there?”
Scar’s voice breaks you from your domestic daydreaming.
“Hm?”
“At the sharpay. Will you be honoring us with your presence?”
“While I usually loathe the BDubs early morning approach to life, I would never miss a Keralis breakfast. Keralis breakfast means one thing –“
“XB’s cooking,” you say simultaneously.
A smile creeps onto your face at the synergy you share.
“Plus, you’ll put on a good show.”
It’s Scar’s turn to look puzzled by your words.
“Good show?”
“Of course. I’m planning on a mimosa in one hand, XB’s French Toast in another, and watching you turn bright red every time a Hermit compliments you on your 26th placement, Sand Daddy .”
“Oh my god.”
“You’re doing it now!” You exclaim, throwing a finger into Scar’s flushed face. “A teeny bit of praise, and you get all blushy and shy. It’s fantastic. You go from Top Gun to Weird Science in a minute flat.”
“I’m so glad my suffering amuses you.” Scar’s deadpan delivery directly rivals the mirth in his eyes.
“Incredibly so.” You say with a wink. “But you deserve all the praise tomorrow, so be prepared for people to lay it on thick, Mister Rocket Spleef Rush Top 5 Finisher.”
Scar feels his face burning at your comments.
“So you did watch closely, huh?”
“Couldn’t let my H0TGuY down now, could I?” You ask, immediately wincing as your voice cracks.
“So I’m your H0TGuY now?” Scar says quickly, arms falling to his sides. “Works for me.”
You giggle, prepared to fire back with another witty comment when you catch Scar’s gaze. He’s giving you a look far too serious to be contested with banter. His eyes are scrutinizing you, and you feel nervous under their surveillance. It’s hard to maintain eye contact, especially as Scar tilts his head back for a moment to stretch his neck, jawline on display. You can feel his stare as your eyes trace the long line of his neck down to the scoop neck of his shirt, memorizing the pattern of every scar littering the area. His hair flops back down into his eyes as he realigns himself before you, clearly smirking as if he’s finally figured you out.
“You never answered my question, by the way,” you squeak, your voice breathier than intended.
Scar’s smirk grows as he tips his head to one side.
“Hm? And which question was that, troublemaker?”
“Do I need to start calling you Sand Daddy now?’ You ask, feigning bashfulness for a moment. “Or are you more into just part of that nickname” You trail off, eyes slowly dragging up Scar’s frame as you step into his personal space. When you finally meet his eyes, you’re only inches apart, and you find yourself swooning over the way Scar’s face scrunches in confusion, his teeth jutting out to bite at his bottom lip.
“Why would I want you to call me sand?”
God, you love this idiot.
Throwing all caution to the wind, you lean in, resting your forehead on Scar’s chest. Just as you imagined, his shirt is equally soft and thin. Thin enough, in fact, that despite the cool breeze, you can perceive his body heat radiating against you. Scar’s hands lift to rest lightly at your waist, unsure. Heart pumping, you turn your head to the side, lounging calmly against him as you speak.
“Not that one, Scar.”
“Well then, what do you…Oh.”
“Oh?”
“ OH .”
Scar’s voice is breathless, and you swear you faintly pick up on his heart racing beneath your ear. A moment passes before his arms move, one delicately moving around your low back, the other raising to tilt your chin back.
“I can’t say I’d be opposed to that, but I’ve never tried it before.” Scar mutters. His voice drops a few octaves, and the inside of your brain feels like Joe’s pinball machine as his deep timbre bounces around. “But you know I’m always willing to practice.”
Scar looks at you for a moment, and you tilt your head toward him in a nod. Closing your eyes, Scar’s breath flits over your lashes as you wait for his lips to touch yours.
“SCAR, PLEASE INFORM GRIAN THAT NO, WARDENS ARE NOT GIFTS.”
“I’M JUST SAYING THEY COULD BE MUMBO!! YOU NEED TO EXPAND YOUR MIND!”
“WELL, YOU NEED A SERIOUS…”
You and Scar jump at the sound of voices coming up the walkway, separating as quickly as possible. You’re both noticeably flushed, practically panting from the anticipation of moments ago. Scar’s shirt is slightly crumpled from where your head rested, and you’re sure your ears are as red as Grian’s sweater. Sneaking a peek, Mambo and Grian stand a few feet away, staring wide-eyed in your direction.
“Grian, I feel as though we’ve interrupted a moment.”
“Was that a moment?
“I would distinctly consider that a moment.”
“What kind of moment? Good moment? Bad moment?”
“Please stop talking.” Scar says, sighing, both palms pressed into his eyes. “Please, for the love of Jellie, stop talking.”
“Right. Well. Uh. I suppose we can discuss Wardens tomorrow, Scar. Let’s go!”
Grian’s rocket sets off before the words leave his mouth, soaring through Scar’s tree.
“Yes, well. Uh. Terrible sorry, friends. I’ll just be going.” Mumbo stutters, face quickly reddening. He fires his rocket to follow Grian’s exit, knocking into several branches before you’re sure he’s gone.
“I want to murder them.” Scar admits. “I love them dearly, but I also want to murder them.”
You can’t help but chuckle. “I think that’s how the entire server feels about them most of the time.”
Scar snorts and the two of you fall back into silence.
“Kinda killed the moment there.” Scar confesses. “Sorry about, y’know. Them.”
“It’s to be expected. Never a dull moment around here.” You respond with a smile and a shrug.
“Never thought I’d say this, but I think I’m ready for a few more dull moments around here.”
“Yeah? What a coincidence; I was just thinking the same thing.”
Scar looks up at the sky, a light smile pulling at his lips.
“Breakfasts are really dull, don’t you think? Honestly, whose favorite part of the day is breakfast?”
“Notoriously boring. Only a true demon would love waking up early for breakfast.”
“I completely agree.” Scar looks over to you, the sparkle returning to his eyes.
“So, I’ll meet you at your base in the morning? You have to wake up early to get the first batch of mimosas after all. Can’t have you oversleeping and getting a bad seat to the show.”
“I’ll set three alarms just in case.” You beam back at Scar, head filled with fewer nerves and more anticipation.
“Would you like me to walk you home?” Scar asks, but you wave him off.
“No, it’s fine; it’s a short walk. You had a busy day. You should get some rest.” Straightening yourself out, you return to standing in Scar’s personal space.
“Besides, you’ll need your energy tomorrow.”
“True. Breakfast will take a lot out of me, I’m sure,” Scar jokes.
“Mhmm.” You murmur, hands reaching for Scar’s own.
“Plus, we have a practice session scheduled for tomorrow. It seems we have some new things to try out.”
Scar’s eyes widen at your words, mouth opening and closing a few times before squeaking a response.
“Yes. Yes, of course. Practice makes perfect and all that.” Scar’s response is fewer words and more stream-of-consciousness rambling, but you find it adorable all the same.
“Goodnight, Sand Daddy.” Scar’s face is a mixture of amusement and adoration, your favorite. Popping up on your tiptoes, you quickly press a kiss to the corner of Scar’s mouth before dropping back down.
“Goodnight.” Scar whispers.
Turning to make your exit, you pause at the edge of Scar’s walkway to take one last look. Peeking out from behind your original Acacia tree spot, you’re secluded enough to be out of Scar’s eyesight. As Scar turns to reenter his home, he pumps his arm a few times in happiness, attempting what looks to be a little dance of joy. Rolling your eyes, you turn and head home, and for the first time in your life, you can’t wait to wake up early.