Work Text:
Charlie knows he’s been here for three days. Three dark, lonely days. After learning about the glitch that killed Flippa and Tilin, he needed to get away.
His exile wasn’t far enough, especially since now people on the island knew where his new home was. He can’t be alone there, not anymore. He aches for somewhere he hasn’t been in a century – somewhere he doesn’t need to be him.
Ancestral instincts led him to this particular cave for how remote it is. It’s particularly damp and covered in stalagmites that he can curl around. He knows he’s becoming more amorphous the longer he stays here, and it’s running the risk that he won’t be able to reform if he doesn’t leave.
Yet, his soul feels soothed here. This is the kind of place he was formed in, and returning feels more like home than anywhere else had in a long time. The steady dripping from the stalagmites resounds in the empty silence of the cave, and he rests.
That is, until he is rudely interrupted by the sound of shuffling at the opening of the cave. He opens his eyes to see a figure staring unblinkingly back at him.
Cucurucho.
“Good evening!” The bear jumps up and down happily as it holds a video camera on its shoulder. Charlie blinks uncomprehendingly at the appearance of the camera as he watches Cucurucho pull a book from out of nowhere.
The book thwacks against his chest as Cucurucho throws it at him, and Charlie lets out a huff of surprise.
The book explains that all candidates, present and former, are to be interviewed for the election night. Quite honestly, Charlie had forgotten that was happening. Gegg is gone, tucked into the recesses of his mind. He’s just Charlie now. What could they possibly want to talk to him about?
He barely gets a moment to digest the information, before he sees that the red recording light is blinking and Quackity’s voice fills the cave.
The interview goes about as great as could be expected for him, being tucked under layers of bedrock. Charlie is honestly surprised the signal could be received in Quackity’s studio, considering he’s sure he’s hundreds of miles away from any known civilization. It’s never smart to underestimate the Federation, as he knows, though, so he keeps his thoughts to himself.
The camera blinks off almost as soon as it turned on, and Cucurucho stares at him a moment longer before bounding back off to do whatever it does in its free time. Maybe it will go blow bubbles at other unsuspecting islanders.
The interview forced Charlie to reform in order to appear less goopy, and his body aches from the sudden change. He hasn’t had to appear so human in a few days now, and he’s feeling it now.
He rubs absently at his neck while his communicator springs to life, buzzing insistently on his wrist. Charlie hasn’t received messages directly to him in weeks, so the notification noise startles him.
iRoier: slime? donde estas
iRoier: im worried
iRoier: come home
Charlie is going to blame the fact he’s already stretched thin for the tears that immediately well up in his eyes. He wipes at his eyes roughly and fumbles for his glasses. He normally doesn’t need them when he’s more slime than human, but Roier’s messages put him firmly back in human territory.
Slimecicle: i don’t know i’m really far away
Slimecicle: don’t worry about me man
Charlie barely knows where he is himself; he hardly expects Roier to figure it out either. It would be a lot to ask, and he doesn’t think he’s particularly in Roier’s good graces after the whole wedding fiasco.
Cellbit: we will find you
Cellbit: stay put
Charlie realizes with a jolt that Cellbit and Roier are looking for him together, and the idea that two people want him back sort of makes him melt back into the cave floor.
Cellbit’s last message is not a hard command to follow, considering how tired Charlie feels all of a sudden. He forced himself into human form too quickly, and now he can barely function. The ground is welcoming in its shiny, smooth surface, and he’s sure it’ll be okay if he just takes a little nap.
—
Charlie’s dream is very pleasant. He’s not in the pitch black cave, but instead cradled against something warm. He hears hushed voices he can’t make out in the background, but he’s too comfortable to try to make them out.
It’s just a dream, anyway, he doubts he can actually understand the murmurs. The dream drifts from a protective blanket of darkness to an almost blinding light that makes Charlie squirm uncomfortably. He hears the hushed voice closer to him and the weight of a touch along his side. It makes him feel secure again, despite the brightness.
It’s only when he’s jostled with the sound of a few choice words muttered in Spanish that he recognizes he’s not experiencing a dream.
“Mierda, gatinho, he’s awake,” Roier whispers urgently, and Charlie’s eyelids flutter open. They’re a few steps from what looks to be like Cellbit’s castle, and Cellbit is looking at him with a concern that makes his stomach do a weird flip.
Charlie then comes to the conclusion that the warmth he was pressed against was Roier, and he’s bridal-carrying him. It’s enough to make him blush, although he thinks he probably looks more green than pink right now.
“Hey, you’re okay. I got you,” Roier murmurs when Charlie attempts to break free from the hold. Normally, Charlie is the strongest of the three of them, but he thinks he might’ve underestimated Roier’s strength.
“You don’t have to…” Charlie trails off, the exertion from trying to get up enough to wear him out.
“Clearly he does, Slime, because you’re out of breath just from that,” Cellbit deadpans, and Roier shoots him a look.
“Be nice, gatinho, he’s been through a lot,” Roier shifts his weight to get Charlie up the stairs, and Charlie is not thinking about how impressive it is that Roier carried him even a little ways to the castle.
Roier doesn’t let him out of his grasp until they reach the master bathroom, and only then does Charlie notice that he’s actually pretty gross after his cave-dweller instincts took over.
“Sorry about your hoodie,” Charlie cringes as he notices the grime he left behind, and Roier rolls his eyes.
“Slime, you were nearly a blob when we found you, and you’re worried about my clothes?” Roier asks exasperatedly, and Charlie feels appropriately chastened.
“Okay, are you gonna let me give you a bath or do I need to chase you down like I do with Richas?” Roier’s voice is teasing again, and Charlie thinks he might melt again but for a different reason.
“I can bathe myself,” Charlie grumbles, and Roier shakes his head.
“No, you’re exhausted, Slime. Let me, let us take care of you, yeah?” Roier’s already rolling up his sleeves and gesturing for Slime to get undressed.
Charlie knows Roier won’t leave until he gets what he wants, and what he wants is to take care of him. That same weird flip he felt before when he saw Cellbit’s concerned expression comes back, and he isn’t sure if he likes it or not.
Thankfully, he’s not exactly shy, so the undressing part isn’t hard. It sort of feels nice to peel himself out of clothes he’s not sure whether he’s changed in a month now. Grief does fucked-up things to your brain.
Cellbit reaches down to grab the dirty clothes, and Charlie makes a noise of complaint.
“You can wear something old of Cellbit’s; it’s fine,” Roier says dismissively as he urges Charlie to climb into the bathtub. It’s a nice one with clawed feet, and Charlie doesn’t think he’s ever had so much luxury in his life. He knew Cellbit was well off, but to experience it himself is something else.
The water is a shocking warmth to his system as he settles into the tub. It was so cold in that cave – nothing like the heat that seeps into his bones now. The aches he felt from shifting forms start to melt away as Roier busies himself with grabbing soap and shampoo.
After a brief argument, Roier lets him scrub at himself with vanilla-scented body wash that is most definitely from Roier’s collection. He remembers the smell from his dream, and connecting the dots makes him scrub harder at a patch of dirt on his elbow.
“Careful or you’re going to become all slime again,” Roier laughs, and the sound is bright and happy in a way Charlie hasn’t felt in a long time.
“I’m washing your hair,” Roier tells him without no room for disagreement as soon as Charlie sets down the washcloth.
Roier picks up a blue bottle labeled with something called “Cool Rush” which isn’t even a smell, and Charlie definitely knows this is Cellbit’s shampoo. He’s going to smell like the both of them, almost like he’s theirs.
As soon as that idea enters his mind, he pushes it far down. They’re just good friends who… rescued him, bathed him, and took him into their home. Yes, good friends.
Roier’s fingers against his scalp feels nicer than he’d like to admit as he relaxes into the repetitive motion. Charlie doesn’t come back to the present until Roier carefully pours a cup of water over his head.
“Is he still with us?” Cellbit’s reappeared now in what must be in his pajamas, leaning against the door frame.
“Mm, I think he drifted off midway through washing his hair,” Roier grins, and Charlie feels like he’s interrupting a domestic moment even though they’re talking about him.
“Water’s getting cold; let’s get you dressed,” Roier says as he goes to lift Charlie again. Charlie doesn’t think he can take Roier touching him like that when he’s naked, so he stands up before Roier can help him.
In fairness, he does feel better after his bath and quite a bit more together, so it’s not like he really needed Roier’s help up. Well, that’s what he’s going to tell himself anyway.
“Gatinho, can you get a towel and some pajamas for him?” Roier asks, affection clear in his tone. Charlie feels a pang of jealousy at how easily love soaks into every word the two share.
Charlie pointedly ignores the heart eyes Roier gives Cellbit when he brings the requested items, and he takes the towel from Roier’s hand. God, even their towels are nice.
It doesn’t take long for Charlie to dry off, even as Roier insists on drying his hair himself. Charlie still doesn’t understand why Roier is taking care of him like this. It doesn’t make sense.
Regardless, Charlie is now dressed in Cellbit’s spare set of pajamas, and they’re actually pretty close to the same size. Charlie is not going to think about that further.
He figures this is the end of him spending time with the couple, and that they must have some spare bedroom in the castle they call home. He waits patiently for one of them to take him out of the room.
Instead, Roier takes him by the hand and leads him to the bed, the bed he shares with Cellbit. Admittedly, it is big enough to probably fit four adults, but it’s the principle of the matter.
“Oh, uh, I don’t want to kick you out of your own bed,” Charlie stammers as Roier pushes him down to sit on the bedspread.
Roier tilts his head in confusion, “You’re not? We’re all sleeping here.”
Oh.
It doesn’t take long before Charlie has been manhandled between the two of them, because Roier is the most persistent man Charlie thinks he has ever met. Charlie can feel the heat radiating off Cellbit from how closely he’s lying behind him, and Roier’s made himself at home tucked against Charlie’s front.
“Buenas noches, guapito,” Cellbit’s voice interrupts Charlie’s increasingly frantic inner monologue at where he’s ended up.
“Boa noite, gatinho,” Roier replies, and they lean over Charlie’s body to kiss. Charlie has never felt more like he’s in the way of something.
Well, except now Roier is shuffling down to Charlie’s level and looking at him with those sparkling brown eyes of his.
“Good night, handsome,” Roier says finally, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s cheek.
Charlie has now decided that actually this whole thing is a dream, and he’s still in that horrible little cave. There is absolutely no way this is real.
And yet it is, because Cellbit wraps his arm around Charlie’s waist and there’s no mistaking the solid weight of someone against him.
Perhaps being just Charlie has been enough all along.