Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Despite how it looked, Doc did not actually enjoy living in the woods.

Oh sure, when his friends call worried, he brags about the open wilderness being perfect for hiding his inventions. His genius thinking had led him to realize that being as far from society as possible had increased his productivity tenfold.

“Dude I am so used to living in the forest, did it heaps ahhh, a few years back,” he always found himself saying into his garbage phone with no service. Wet orange leaves fell and stuck to his fur. “Y’know how it is with the grind, always optimizing, always thriving.” He could hear Bdubs raising his eyebrow at him.

“I am RAISING MY EYEBROW AT YOU!”

There was also some literal feedback.

“I figured yes”

“I was THERE last time Doc! WHY are you GOING BACK?”

As much as he hates, hates to admit it, Bdubs’ doubt was not without merit. The forest is closer to a swamp these days. Fur sunk into soil and mold covered his machines. He sleeps in his green algae stained lab coats, on a plastic mat he stole from a wandering tourist. Sure, his machines were more efficient than ever. The grind for materials was almost nonexistent. Moss and mold were easy enough to clean off. But if Doc had to go one more sleepless night eating rations out of pure boredom, well.

“Just come stay HERE with ME, there’s no need to go HIDI-”

Doc made a habit of hanging up the phone whenever they got to this point in the conversation.

There were a lot of excuses he could give for following the ad. The one stapled haphazardly onto a tree trunk. Both it and the tree covered in mildew and large gashes, where some large beast had clawed at it. He could say it really did interest him. He could say he had a scheme going that would blow everyone away. He could say he was looking for a new test subject. Just something that really required signing up to be some random person’s roommate.

Really though,

Really, Doc was fucking desperate.

His biological hand felt too sticky to knock on the door of the house, so he rammed it with his metal one. It left a dent in the cheap wood.

Doc hopes they don’t notice, it's not like he has any money to pay for repairs.

He stands there awkwardly, staring up at the tall brick building as someone screams “COMING!” followed by the clattering of metal and multiple yelps. It’s a quaint two story building, old in its construction. Beautiful satin blue curtains sit gently upon the windowsill closest to Doc. Dust bunnies roll across the lower floor window. The upper floors are what give Doc some pause. Windows are boarded up, nailed over the frame which is clearly covered in black tape. Light creeps out, unnatural red glow clawing its way outside. No sane person would stick around if they came for the ad. Finally, a sign of hope, someone desperate enough to want to take Doc in.

The door handle rattled a bit, followed by a small click from the peephole. that revealed a large teal eye.

“State your business!”

The eye flicked around, inspecting Doc, and getting an admittedly excellent view of his abs.

“I’m here to, uh, the roommate application?” Doc lent down, tilting his head so he and the stranger stood eye to eye.

“Oh! Oh wow. Uh.”

“Was the spot already taken?” Doc shuffled a little, maintaining composure. Ah. One of these people. Better to keep this part of the process quick and not waste any more of his time. “Apologies for taking up your time-”

“NO!” The stranger suddenly yelled, “No not at all, its just that uh…”

Doc began muttering the words that came next.

“... no one has come by yet? It’s been weeks my dude! Where have you been!”

Alright. Maybe Doc doesn’t know what’s going on here.

The stranger behind the door continues to rant wildly about how much effort he put into posters, and how everyone who saw the house turned away without even “stopping in for tea! People these days!” while Doc zoned out.

Objectively speaking, this was quite a nice neighborhood, if a bit of a ghost town. Doc wasn’t really sure anyone was living in any of the surrounding buildings. Though, it was close enough he could probably still go out to the swamp to work on his machines in secret but not have to sleep there. Also, the bus fare didn’t look too bad. He could probably just ignore the strange red light in the attic, the rest of the house looked nice enough. It was worryingly close to where a lot of vigilantes in the area made their home, but Doc could work with that. He scratched his beard (which needed cutting) thoughtfully.

“...Frankly, this place’s lack of manners? It’s gonna be the downfall of society,” The stranger laughs nervously, seemingly finishing his rant, “Dude are you listening?”

Doc snapped back into focus.

“So you are new here too? Also can I come in?” Doc did not want to be pushy about entering someone’s home but, well, it was kind of cold out here in the late autumn breeze. Also, it was beginning to spit and he did not think to grab an umbrella.

The stranger was silent behind the door for a minute. Despite not being able to see him, he had the distinct impression of staring down a deer, frozen in place. Like he had just caught the stranger in something. A small, almost inaudible sigh, followed by the rattling of the door and a flurry of muttered swears came to Doc’s remaining ear as the door continued not to open.

The stranger, resigned and defeated, began to say, “See the thing is, I would love to but,”

“Your door hinges are rusted shut?” They squeaked in Doc’s cybernetic ear, a single scan with his eye revealed them to be on the verge of collapsing if the rust was not somehow also holding the door in place.

“What?! They are?! Oh man. I haven’t gone outside in-” the stranger coughed, “in an entirely reasonable amount of time for a young man such as myself to not go outside! Figures after I put those posters up I'd get locked in, I must be cursed or something dude!” He chuckled awkwardly.

Doc politely ignored the fact that the stranger himself admitted that the posters had been put up weeks ago, and instead sized up the door.

The door was remarkably still standing tall despite obviously being rotted in, mold creeping out of the dent Doc had already made in the door. Rust glued the hinges to the sun bleached bricks. However, doc felt along the place where the hinges attached together and found he was easily able to pull them apart with his fingers. The other side was simply held in place by a buildup of moss.

He nodded, “Stand back from the door.”

“What?”

“Stand back from the door.”

Doc heard the stranger shuffle back against the carpet, while he took a few steps back of his own.

Then he ran at the door with the full force of all four of his hooves, crashing through the door with his head bent down to maximize the damage from his horns. Shattered pieces of wood soared through the air, whizzing past his head onto the ground with Doc, kneeling at the stranger’s feet. The wooden shards were brushed to the floor as he pulled himself up by his arms. He looked behind him, smiling at the Doc shaped hole where the door used to be, before turning towards the stunned stranger, their mouth gaping wide.

With a shaking paw he pointed up at Doc’s horns, “You got something right um, right up there, yeah you got it.”

Doc pushed off the wooden shard as he raised his eyebrow at the stranger. The stranger wore a strange white jumpsuit with the logo Gigacorp written on it, sort of like a sci-fi space exploration suit with orange and cyan highlights. Small redstone indicators ticked numbers up and down on small screens with tubes wrapping around his forearms and ankles. The biggest of which seemed to be measuring the oxygen level in the room, for some reason. Below, a number of hostile mobs in the area. It read “1”. Doc looked back up. The stranger’s eyes were covered by futuristic cyan goggles, tucked into a long, long brown ponytail. Two large wolf ears flicked slightly. Suddenly a thumping came to Doc’s attention, a large wolf tail batting the ground, connected into the suit through a strange adjustable tube neatly adjusted into place.

“Well I gotta hand it to you dude, my door is certainly unstuck now! Do you want a tour of my humble abode?” his tail wagged a bit faster at that, smiling like the sun in Doc’s face.

“Yes, yes,” Doc said, scanning the room, a quaint hallway with ripped floral wallpaper. He stuck his hand out towards the stranger, “Docm77. You can call me Doc.”

The stranger slapped his hand into Doc’s and shook it vigorously, “Ren Diggity Dog, at your service!” He did not let go of Doc’s hand as he dragged him into the first room, left of the stairs. Both of them ducked under the short door frame.

The blue satin curtains Doc saw outside did not match the dingy orange couch or the matted dark blue carpet. Though, they matched more inside due to the various mysterious brown stains smeared on the ends. Every piece of fabric looked like it had gone through intensive home repairs. Red, pink, black and green threads zig zagged their way through every location imaginable, like someone had torn the curtains and couch to shreds for fun then sewn it carefully back together.

Ren cleared his throat, “This is the living room, sorry, the Gigacorp Entertainment Area®! As you can see we only have only the most modern entertainment devices, modded by myself!”

The pride Ren clearly showed for his “modding” was only equaled by the terrifying product sitting before him. A horrific beast of four TVS from the 80s, welded together with all their screens facing inside and the knobs and sliders facing out. Each facing its own, unique, incorrect direction. Electricity sparked from all angles. The cabling situation looked like what Doc found in his stress dreams, a mountain of cables plugged into an extension cord plugged into ONE socket. Wires were covered, uncovered, and freshly chewed. Ren pulled out a tv remote and by some horrific miracle, the gods from above and below raised their bloody hands bringing the device to life, playing Star Trek: Into Darkness.

“Oh man, that movie is terrible!” Doc whined.

“It’s not that bad!” Ren insisted, “It just has a bad reputation!”

“Sure, sure,” Doc chuckled, feeling the old discolored couch under his fingers, “what’s the next room?”

Ren pushed open a white door with peeling paint next to the monstrosity that had a lopsided paper sign that said “Keep Out!” followed by some smaller words that looked suspiciously like “ESPECIALLY You Ren!”, but they were crossed out too many times for Doc to tell.

The next room was a kitchen, covered in high wall to wall cupboards overtop a small stove, counter and sink. It looked suspiciously like a storage area hastily renovated into a kitchen.

“Now this,” He declared, holding his hands out as he spun in slow dramatic circles around the tiny kitchenette, “is the state of the art, fully kitted out Gigacorp Food Preparation Zone®! It comes with all the things you may need, like a fridge, or a microwave.”

Doc waited for him to go on.

Ren did not go on.

“Or the oven?” Doc prompted.

Ren glared at the completely normal oven. The seething rage between the two was deep and intense. Clearly, this was a long held rivalry.

“Ah yes. Also the oven.” Ren moved towards the door back into the hallway, “Anyways! On with the tour!” He then proceeded to slam the door open, causing a cascade of 2 minute noodles to fall onto his head. He looked at the oven with sad puppy eyes, like it had somehow caused this.

Doc did his very best not to laugh.

“Dude don’t laugh at my torment,” Ren said as he failed miserably, cackling away. Doc grabbed the packets from the floor and stacked them back on the counter efficiently, counting only one casualty. A single packet ripped completely open, small pieces of noodle flying everywhere. Ah the horrors of war, he thought, so many go too young. He bit off a quarter of the slab and chewed loudly. Ren stared at him.

“Well?” Doc swallowed, “Are we continuing the tour?”

“Are you- Nevermind,” Ren turned away as Doc chuckled. Doc swept the noodle bits off to the side as they went, while Ren picked the remaining bits out of his clothes.

The peeled wallpaper in this part of the hallway revealed yet another layer of wallpaper, also peeling. Nails were placed evenly along the wall, paler squares of wall suggesting they were once used to hang something. How long had Ren been living here, exactly?

“So Doc, what do you do for work?” Ren asked as he guided them behind the stairs.

Doc considered the question for a moment, ducking under the stairs. He could lie, but the second Ren asked for any proof he was in trouble. He definitely couldn’t tell the truth either. Ren glanced at him behind his back as he opened the next door, eyebrow raised.

“I am… between jobs. At the moment,” Doc decided, “But I do like, engineering, and stuff,” he waved his arm vaguely.

“Ah, freelance work!” Ren brightened immediately, “I just work at a cafe down the road. Anyways, this is where your bedroom would be!”

He bowed with great flourish.

“This one, does not have a name?”

“No? Why would it? This is a normal room dude, jeez,” Ren rolled his eyes.

Despite being completely empty, it wasn’t a bad space. The walls were painted a fresh, blinding white in contrast to the peeling wallpaper of the rest of the house. Instead of thin gray carpet or cheap linoleum, the floor was made of polished wooden floors. The sawdust along the walls and shattered lightbulb were a bit concerning, but fairly easy to work around. Doc was

Wait.

Doc felt around the floor with his hooves, finding a small indent into the floor. Tap, it went, ringing hollow. Ren tilted his head, large ears flicking. “You good there dude?”

“Just looking,” Doc stepped inside, trying to not look at the trapdoor. He could get more than he bargained for if he keeps that one quiet.

The lack of windows was a concern, but not too terrible in the grand scheme of things. He pretended to sniff the air with his snout as he felt along the floorboards. No more secret trapdoors. Interesting.

Ren tapped the floor with his foot just outside the door, not impatiently. Doc had the feeling the man was just one that never really stopped moving. His eyes landed on the flier Doc was holding, before just as quickly looking away.

Ren caught his gaze and tilted his head “All done?”

Doc nodded once. The two ducked back around the stairs to the main hallway.

“Well that door over there is the bathroom, shower and everything, which concludes the tour!” Ren declared, tail still swishing nervously. Doc peeked in, just to check that the bathtub was large enough for him to fit inside (it was), and that there was a washing machine (also yes). Then Doc processed the last thing Ren said.

“Wait. What’s upstairs?” Doc glanced at the stairs and back at Ren.

Ren stared blankly back, “My room is upstairs, and nothing else. Don’t go up there. This concludes the tour. Any questions? Do you want to move in or what?”

Ren stared at him with his piercing canine eyes, voice monotone and tail no longer wagging. Gone was the happy scatterbrained man from before and now he stood eye to eye with someone who has suddenly declared themself a threat. Doc raised his hands up in surrender.

“Well, what does rent look like?” He smiled in a way he hoped was non-threatening.

“There is no rent.”

Doc’s grin twitched, “What?”

“I own the building. I need something else from you.”

“And ah, what would that be?”

“There’s some… certain individuals who come around from time to time. Just to ask where I've been and stuff. I need a roommate to… help deal with them. If you catch my drift.”

“How often are these, “individuals” coming around?”

“About once a week, usually in the mornings. You just need to tell them I was here asleep all night, and that’s your rent covered.”

This was one of the most suspicious deals Doc had ever been offered. That was saying something, considering he was a seven foot tall ripped cyborg creeper-goat hybrid. But to cover his rent entirely…

Well. Not the worst deal Doc had been offered so far.

“Sounds good to me,” Doc nodded.

Ren stared at him, perplexed, “What, just, just like that?”

“I mean its not drugs is it? Cause like,”

“Its not drugs I swear,”

“I mean you can tell me if it’s drugs, I'm no snitch.”

“It is not drugs I swear on my mother’s grave. Don’t- Don’t do drugs kids,” Ren stumbled out, holding out a peace sign. The two of them fell into giggles.

“So the door,” Doc glanced at it.

“The door? Ah yes! The door. A terrible entity that terrorized this house for far too long,” Ren tsked and shook his head, “You have done the world a great service for getting rid of that thing. Just terrible, terrible vibes, all the time.”

“So you are saying I did you a favor by destroying it?” Doc smiled slyly.

“Yes exactly my dude!”

“So I do not have to pay for the damages?”

The betrayal crossed Ren’s surprised face.

“Well, uh, you see the thing is about that…”

“I will move in this afternoon if you say yes.”

“...Is that you are absolutely correct! Just sign these- oh wow that was quick. I’ll see you later today then!”

Doc nodded before running off.

Not bad, for the very last resort.

Chapter Text

Doc's machines had to stay at the swamp. Obviously.

He used the last of his funds to buy a cheap mattress, which he dragged across the long matted hallway. Ren snored loudly, limbs sprawled across the couch, Star Trek still playing in the background. His tail squished uncomfortably under his shoulders as he kicked his paws out like he was chasing a squirrel. Doc snorted. Getting the mattress and himself past the tight passage between the wall and the stairs was a whole mission in of itself, clambering over the mattress to pull it a little further each time. It caught on every nook and cranny, arguing with the carpet. Doc grabbed one end and carefully vaulted over it as it bent in half. The mattress flopped onto the ground, finally no longer wedged into the wood of the stairs. Doc looked up to the perfect angle of Ren drooling all over his face. Doc giggled softly. Threatening new roommate indeed.

Tugging the mattress into the dark room, Doc threw it down into furthest left corner. It bounced a little as it settled, and Doc carefully stepped on, settling the weight between his 4 legs before curling up with his laptop. He did not have a sheet yet. Or blankets. His legs were definetly dangling off the side, even though he had sworn he had gotten the largest size. In his price range. His toolbox sat shoved through the dust, next to where a pile of dirty labcoats would be if he had not already put them in the washing machine. Thinking ahead is the trick with efficency. Like putting the HotGuy poster on the wall facing away from the door, so his weird new roommate couldn't spot it and ask questions.

Doc scrolled through the internet, looking for a brilliant new plan for getting enough money for groceries this week. His ears twitched, listening for the sizzle of redstone that wasn't there anymore. It felt far too dry in this room, clothes and floor far too clean. The dust seemed to settle whenever he looked away. He stared furiously at his laptop, typing away a slew of emails that all almost immediately bounced back. Sneering at the comments about his résumé. His portfolio was excellent, they said. He knows its excellent. Everyone knows its excellent. He excells in his field and it would help if literally anyone gave him a damn job.

Doc breathed in, breathed out. He was the GOAT after all. Maybe he was a little in the dirt right now. So what? More time to grind. He was gonna be just fine.

A new flurry of bland rejection emails came in and Doc groaned. He buried his face into his hands and prepared himself for another round of copy pasting "Thanks for your consideration" emails, that would likely also go thoroughly unread.

The trapdoor was still there.

Not a surprising development, considering secret passages do not tend to move. He peeked at it out of the corner of his eye, the faint line in the floorboards making a tempting escape from the blinking red inbox in front of him. Like most things in this house, the barely visible hinges were in a state of decay. Even if Doc questioned Ren's real intentions, which he absolutely did, it was unlikely this was his doing. On the contrary, the smell of rotted moss that barely tickled Doc's snout suggested some much different, and much older, than Ren's chaos.

Thoroughly distracted now, Doc shoved the laptop back by its charger in the wall. He felt around in the dark, trying to find the sunken in patch of floor. His hands followed the lines across the floorboards until they slid into a small indent. The rust snapped and cracked like bones clattering as Doc struggled to lift it up. His soft creeper fur slid his hands right out of the socket, the force he used to grasp on only shoving him backwards more. He lay on the floor, panting. Right. Toolbox. Yellow screwdriver in hand, Doc stabbed at the hinges, screws being a long since lost cause. One half of one hinge peeled off, hanging like a loose tooth. The other seemed to just be pushed further and further into the wood.

Doc leaned his torso down, pressing his cybernetic ear to the wood and knocking on it with his hand. Somehow, the thing was still sturdy, jammed in and thicker than the rest of the floorboards. He dragged an iron pickaxe out of his toolbox, and wedged it into the indent he had discovered earlier, and pushed. The trapdoor flippled open like a cork, somersaulting through the air and clattering onto the floor. Ren groaned loudly from the living room. Doc slammed the trapdoor on the ground to stop it from moving.

He sat there tense, for one, two, three beats of silence.

Doc let out a stuttering sigh as he heard nothing else.

A rusted ladder beckoned Doc into a tight, unlit descent, which he took gladly. One set of limbs at a time. The light from his laptop slowly disappeared above him, his back scraping against the dirt wall.

Hind legs down, front legs down, arms down.

The ladder was smoother than expected, like it had been painted black in the past year. Rust fought at the edges, slowly gaining ground on the fresh steel the peeled paint revealed.

Hind legs down, front legs down, arms down.

Dirt turned to stone on his back, briefly turning to concrete as he passed what he assumed was the sewers. Water rushed behind him. He was thankfully saved from the smell by the extra thick walls, but just imagining it made Doc go a little faster.

Hind legs down, front legs down, arms down.

The passage tightened, turning to deepslate and Doc attempted to cease breathing, scraping his fur against the ladder. Dead flowers creeped up shyly, wilting in anxiety. Soon every pass of the ladder doc made with his hands were full of dead leaves.

Behind him, the passage opened up to a small room that shone flickering warm lantern light onto the ladder. He moved backward off the ladder, before turning to assess his surroundings.

The room was caked in dirt. Every inch, from floor to ceiling was covered in a thick layer of dirt. One wall may have just been dirt with nothing else ever behind it. The other three however, were closer to what Doc was used to seeing in a lab. Pale white walls with ceramic tiles arranged for easier cleaning. Two lanterns hung miserably from a single wooden support beam in the ceiling, barely keeping the room alive. Though not warm, Doc noted, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. In the center of the linoleum floor was a pile of old rotted barrels, barely stable enough to hold themselves together. Whatever this room was, it was definetly no longer in use. Doc eyed the barrels warily.

"DO NOT OPEN", they read.

That was good enough a reason as any for Doc to immediatly start trying to open them.

Instead of bothering with tools this time, he just smashed the first one with his fist, causing the lid to smash open with a satisfying

Pop!

Doc grinned manically. He smashed another, and another, punched away the barrels, his unemployment, the swamp, his weird new roommate, what he was, he,

Doc collapsed his hind legs in exertion, panting.

A barrel rolled quietly past where he sat. The rest were open, or more accurately, demolished. Splinters of wood dug into one another, insides coated in mold and moss. Doc sat there in the silence, trying not to think of anything at all.

"Hee hee!"

What was that.

He straightened up, looking around. He tipped a barrel over, listening carefully. No sound. Was he finally hallucinating? He had gone longer without food before, he knew he could do it. Maybe it was time to head back up and go to bed.

"Over here!"

A flash of pink flew past his vision, which he grabbed for. A butterfly? He opened his hand and found nothing there. He growled, gunpowder streaming from his nostrils. Definetly time for bed. Just in case though, he snapped back around, trying to catch where the butterfly went.

The barrels, or what was left of them uproared in a crowd laughter.

Doc turned back around and jumped.

"Awe, is the big scary creeper scared of a little ol' me?" a small woman, about the size of Doc's hand sat on the edge of a barrel, kicking her tiny legs. Two massive pink butterfly wings sprouted from her back, poking through her thick pink sweater. She smiled at Doc with sharp teeth.

Her small brown bob of hair filled with dead flowers bounced as she talked, "What, ya never seen a pixie befor'?"

Doc raised his eyebrow, "No, since pixies are not real."

"Well you're looking at one aren't ya?"

"I'm afraid I dont have any shoes for you to fix," Doc jestured at his hooves.

"Aw love, you wish it were shoes I was after!" the strange woman laughed, "Come on out boys!"

She clapped her hands twice, and an army of pixies flew out of the barrels, with the same pink with black lines wings the woman had, but much paler. All of them was paler actually, more malformed and twisted. They giggled, but strangely. As though all of them shared the same funny thought at the exact same time. They stared at Doc with drooping eyes patiently.

"This is the hivemind! My own personal army! Very well trained, when they're fed that is. Thank you for saving us, just a real pleasure to meet ya. You are…?" She stared at Doc expectantly, hands on hips.

Doc blinked.

Still surrounded by pixies.

Alright.

"Doc."

"Hi Doc," the hivemind spoke in unison.

"You are not, ah, in the hivemind?" Doc looked skepically back down at the strange pixie woman who had spoken to him first.

"Ah, good eyes on this one! An excellent candidate! Stress Monstah, at your service," She shook Doc's pointer finger, which Doc carefully maneuvered up and down.

"Now!" she jumped onto Doc's hand, "Onto business!"

"Business?"

"Yes! You look like a man who could live a life of crime, and we can provide that for you!" Stress bounced across his fingers.

"Uh, what?"

"A life of villainy! The world at your feet, money in your hands and all the fame to do a surprisingly limited number of things with!" Stress explained, "The hivemind and I here, we can get you a good thing going. Now I've been doing just a lil' bit of listening to ya work, and it sounds like we got a real enigineer on our hands here! See the hivemind know a thing or two about building contraptions, and I know a thing or two about commanding em! I can also sew! With the Red King and his hand missing, this city is yours for the taking. You don't want to miss this offer my good sir!"

Doc raised stress up to eye height, "And why do you think I want to become a villain?"

Stress smiled at him. She booped his nose, "Between you an' me, I know the look of a man who needs some vengeance. You've been wronged, you've been taken advantage of," she leaned in to whisper, "and now? Now you're stuck. But you are powerful, and you are cruel, and if you shake loose just a dew of those pesky morals the whole world can pay for what's happened to you."

Stress jumped back again, " So, for the low low price of helping me find m' spouse, the hivemind and I will help with your every whim! Within reason a' course. Whaddya say?"

This was a stupid idea. Heroes, villains, it doesn't matter what you called yourself, once you turned up in a crazy costume declaring yourself to be something you're not. Well. Doc didn't care to start any fights, but nothing he had ever seen had ever suggested that wasn't crazy person behavior. Besides, pixies? Pixies. Setting aside the idea that they were real, Doc suspected being indebted to pixies of any kind was usually a bad idea. Every logical part of him screamed to leave the crazy pixie here with the barrels, and that was a lot of him considering his brain was partially machine, but one thing stopped him.

Vengeance. Fur stood up around his spine, and a shiver went up his body. Doc felt electrified. He felt alive. Finally, a move to make. A way to become unstuck. He had not felt like he was there, like he was living, quite as much as he did now. Maybe it was stupid.

"I'm in. Whatever you need from me i'm in."

Maybe it was a sign to try something new.

"Righty-o! Well if that's all settled then," Stress hopped off Doc's hand, "The boys and I here are gonna work on a cute little home to stay in. As much as I 'preciate the barrels, I could do with a change of scenery. Come back down tommorow night so we can start, alright?"

"Of course."

Doc began climbing the ladder, chewing through the thoughs in his head. Similar to how the pixie began chewing at the wood on the barrels, peeling them apart to make materials for new housing.

"Oh, Doc, one more thing?"

"Yes?"

"Bring us some fresh flowers would ya?"

Doc nearly slid back down the ladder when he reached the top, scrambling for purchase against the rough wooden floor. He hoisted himself up by the flats of his palms, breathing for a moment before scrambling to cover the hole with the trapdoor once more.

The sound of shuffling fur sank through the door, followed by a quiet sigh swallowed back into silence. Doc waited, staring at where the noise had come from. The silent touch of a palm against the door was the loudest noise Doc had ever heard.

Quietly, tenatively, the door was knocked three times.

"Hey, uh Doc my dude, I cooked some extra pasta? If you're hungry. Yknow," Ren's voice had lost that boistrous bounce from when they first met. Every word sounded like it was losing whatever steam Ren had used to steel himself. Hearing that voice small and cowering as the sentence drifted away into silence was like meeting Ren as a stranger for the second time today.

Doc stared at his dirt covered arms, hand lightly covered inexplicably in pink glitter, flipping them over and over.

His stomach growled. Loudly.

"I'll be there in a minute. Need to wash up first."

"Of course! Yes, of course, it'll be ready when you are," a flurry of pawsteps skittered down the hall, before slamming what Doc could only presume was the kitchen door.

One fresh lab coat and two arms scrubbed raw later, Doc strolled into the living room. Glitter still sparkled in the crevices of his cybernetic arm. Hopefully Ren would be too caught up in whatever he's doing to notice. Which was, currently, sitting on the couch staring intensely at two bowls of microwave mac and cheese.

"Hey man," Doc said casually, flopping down on the couch and tucking his hooves into a loaf. Ren jumped.

"Hey dude!" Ren wagged his tail, "Thanks for eating this pasta I accidentally made two bowls, like a complete dumbass."

"What? How did you manage that?"

"Anyways I found this cool new show! That we could watch! As yknow, roommate bonding…?" Ren grew quiter again, ears folded down with his head. All momentary confidence was lost.

Doc rolled his eyes, turning to say no, when he met Ren's eyes.

Ren stared at him through plastic futuristic goggles with the biggest puppy eyes he had ever seen. The glasses slipped down his nose revealing his massive, teal blue eyes, wet enough to start crying any second. Doc opened his mouth to speak when Ren batted his eyelashes, staring at him so sweetly. No. No! He was not going to befriend his weird, probably criminal roommate! Doc may have needed the food but he did not need the company! He was going to stand his ground and go to bed right now. Right this second. No excuses.

Ren whimpered sadly under his breath.

"Yeah sure man of course i'll watch it with you."

Goddammit.

Ren brightened immediately, sun returning on this cool autumn night to shine through his face once again. "Awesome! It's this great new show about this guy stranded on an alien planet and some guy back on earth…" Ren continued to chatter away and possibly spoil the whole plot before he had even found the correct streaming service. Doc took the chance to examine the food. Strange orange goo smothered the undercooked pasta, which smelled awful. Doc took a bite, hungry enough that anything at all sounded heavenly.

Ren chuckled along as the episode played out, forks scraping against the ceramic bowls. The lone astronaut strolled along the sand wastes near his spaceship, a stunning blank alien landscape that was punctuated by the silence of the TVs. Ren fiddled with his empty bowl as the lone astronaut treked through wreckages of empty spaceships and his own frail sanity. Doc put his bowl down on the coffee table at some point as the strange red eyes grew nearer and nearer. The astronaut shook in fear, desperately trying to hatch a plan with his strange friend, and then,

Then the credits rolled.

"WHAT! They can't leave us hanging there!" Doc threw his arms up in the air, knocking the futuristic goggles off an unsuspecting Ren.

Ren adjusted them with one hand, "I take it you liked it then?", he said with just a hint of smugness.

"We are watching this tomorrow" Doc snapped back, "and it will NOT be leaving me on a cliffhanger next time!"

Doc stormed into the kitchen with his and Ren's dishes. Doc took the silence as an invitation to continue his rant.

"I mean really!" He continued as he turned on the faucet, "The sheer audacity! A full hour and we still have no idea what those aliens were! They do this on purpose so you always, always have to be buying another month! They make it so you need to know! Now we have to watch this tommorow to get our money's worth."

"Well I," Ren swallowed, "Yeah dude we can do that! Stick it to the man!"

"Hmm" Doc replied noncomittedly. Ren quited down once again, tail ceasing wagging. Stacking the wet plates into a neat pile, Doc moved onto the giant pile of coffee mugs, some covered in mildew several weeks old. A clean living space makes a clear mind, and it was pretty obvious why Ren seemed so strange if this was how he had been living. Good enough for him, not good enough for the GOAT. Inefficencies lead to mistakes. Doc did not make mistakes.

Ren had at some point, appeared next to him, shuffling on his paws uselessly. Doc pointed to the red teatowel hanging off the wall.

“Thanks man,” Ren mumbled as he dried the dishes.

“I’d like to think you know where the tea towel is in your own house.”

“No for uh, helping. With the dishes. It's nice of you.”

Doc let himself not answer that. The words sat in the room as a small draft of cool autumn breeze drifted slowly in and out of the window. Leaves clipped against the window accentuating the oddly silent street. The porcelain made a shy clank against the counter top, water splashing back down into the sink. Doc was left with his thoughts for the first time in awhile. Quiet chores he had not done in what felt like an age coming back to him like raindrops falling into the desert, muscle memory clicking in again. The beating heart of the rythym of his hands and Ren's that did not clash but combine, peace at last. Doc could get used to this.

He should be avoiding that.

"Do we have any flowers here Ren?"

Ren jumped as Doc slammed the last coffee mug down, "Uh, not that I know of? M- The last owners might've left something out back if you want to check."

"Thanks. Goodnight," Doc rounded the corner, grumbling about pixies, leaving a staring Ren behind.