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As soon as the game finishes, it’s off to the private lobby they go, filled with food and drinks and couches. It’s quite chaotic, with a group of fourteen clustered together and jostling and congratulating. Once the cheer for Martyn’s win dies down, they group up for a final time.
Grian is jostled by a wing before he’s punched in the shoulder. Wincing, he looks up into Tim’s laughing eyes.
“You fell! You fell, oh my gosh!” Jimmy’s wings give a little rustle as he jumps up and down in front of Grian.
Joel is behind Jimmy, grinning ear-to-ear and laughing, then tackles them both into a bear hug (while minding their wings, of course).
Grian can’t even be mad at Jimmy’s happiness of his demise when he gets this—a faceful of Jimmy’s shoulder and a warmth he’d missed too much. Instead, Grian giggles past a choked up throat and hugs them back. Muffled, he replies, “I did fall. Took some inspiration, really.”
Jimmy’s groan and Joel’s ringing laugh ease any lingering aches in Grian’s heart.
BigB smiles as he watches Grian get pounced on by Jimmy and Joel, as expected. Behind them, he spots familiar, peering eyes.
Pearl winks from across the room.
Rolling his eyes, BigB crosses the room and bumps his shoulder to hers. “Always watching,” he says.
“Always watching,” Pearl replies. She snickers, then holds her arms out in an offer of a hug.
He easily accepts, resting his chin on her shoulder and closing his eyes as they press together for a long moment.
When they pull apart, BigB says, “I mean what I said back then, about you being a great teammate.”
Pearl smiles and says, “I meant it too. I had a good time.”
They stand at the edge of the room, falling into mutual, quiet observation.
Even though they’d had a ghostly reunion in the sky, Scar, Bdubs, and Cleo gather up. They grin at each other and give a final, short group hug before launching into recollections of their time as a family on the server.
During a lull in the conversation, Cleo warily stares the two men down. “Now,” they say, “am I off mom-duty? Or do I need to supervise any shenanigans on Hermitcraft moving forward?”
Bdubs and Scar share a familiar look, then turn innocent, wide eyes back to her. Bdubs says, “Of course not! We will behave perfectly.”
Scar nods along. “Mhm, mhm. You won’t hear a peep.”
Cleo snorts, shifting weight to one foot. “Just remember that ‘keep inventory’ is off from now on. And Scar, only use rockets to fly that are meant for flying, not crossbows.”
Scar and Bdubs each smother a smile, but solemnly nod as Cleo continues on.
Impulse finds himself surrounded, and Etho chants “Team meeting, team meeting”, until they’re attempting a four-way hug. It sort of works, with Skizz manhandling Tango and Impulse close to Etho until they’re all giggling and pressed together.
Skizz jostles Impulse from where he’s grabbed him by the shoulders, and says, nearly shouting, “You did it! You made it to the final three! I’m so proud of you, gosh.”
There’s tears on his cheeks, Impulse realizes. None of them comment on it as he wipes them away. He’s grinning so much it hurts, and he lets Tango and Etho congratulate him without interrupting. Once they’re done, he says, “Couldn’t have done it without you guys.”
Three “aw”s chorus out. Etho prods them all to fall onto a couch pushing against their calves. They collapse into the soft cushions, and Skizz happily drapes himself across all three of their laps, bony knees and all.
Impulse almost allows it, until he realizes Skizz’s shirt and pants are still missing. He shoves him off in tandem with Tango, and Skizz ends up in a pouting puddle on the floor.
All it earns Impulse is a cuddled up Skizz in Tango’s jacket on his side as they chat, but hey, he’s not complaining.
Martyn braces himself as Scott approaches.
Scott stands before him, and they are both silent in the loud room. Scott smiles sweetly, genuinely; Martyn shifts from foot to foot.
“A crown looks good on you,” Scott says, reaching up to flick the new gold crown laid on Martyn’s head.
“You think so? It’s better than the coral look?” Martyn asks.
Scott shrugs. “Both were cute. Also done well by other people, such as myself.” His cheeky grin eases the tightness in Martyn’s chest, even as he shakes his head at Scott.
“Congrats,” Scott tacks on in the short silence. “You did well.”
“Thank you,” Martyn says, then blurts, “I’m not sorry.” He grimaces, glancing away. “That wasn’t how I meant to say that. I just- I don’t know if you expect an apology, but I can’t give you a real one. And you deserve sincerity.” He’s rambling, he knows it, but looks back anyways.
Scott isn’t smiling, but he doesn’t frown. “Okay.”
Weight lifted, Martyn’s shoulders sag. He nods once.
Suddenly, arms are thrown around him, squeezing tightly. Martyn manages to hug back, fumbling to get his arms wrapped around Scott’s lower back.
They embrace for a long minute. Martyn squeezes his eyes shut, relishing the familiar hold without armor in the way. Their stomachs rise and fall against the other’s; Martyn smiles at the comfort of not shying away.
Once they each shift, Scott pulls back enough to make eye contact and holds Martyn’s hands between his own. He says, “I mean it when I say you did well. You defended me countless times, and I’m grateful. I wouldn’t have asked for anyone else to partner with.”
“Thank you,” Martyn says, and squeezes Scott’s hands. “I know these games are weird for new friendships. How about next time I visit Empires, I’ll take off the old sheriff costume and visit Chromia?”
Scott grins. “I’d love that. I’ll let you go for now. You have congratulations waiting for you.”
Chest light, Martyn watches him walk away, then turns to those waiting to talk to him.