Chapter Text
It's mid morning by the time Etho leaves his base to head to the shopping district, diamonds secured in one of his pockets, shopping list in another.
Above him, the sky is clear and the sun burns bright. Already Etho can tell it's going to be an uncomfortably hot day, the kind best spent lounging under the shade of a tree or wading in a river, not running around the shops. Sweat is begining to gather on his brow and he's only been walking for couple minutes. Etho wishes he could take off his vest but he needs its many pockets if he wants to be able to carry back home everything he plans on buying. He does not want to make a second trip in this weather.
Normally on a hot day like today, Etho would simply pop on his elytra and rocket over to wherever he needed to be, but he can't because he, along with half of the server, have been roped in by Cleo on a bet on who can last the longest without the wings. It's absolutely ridiculous and he's not even sure what the prize is for winning, but he doesn't want to be first out so he's stuck with walking for the time being. And, honestly he wouldn't have minded the walking if it weren't just so damn hot out right now.
Etho is daydreaming of sky and snow when he reaches a junction where the dirt path he had been following split into two opposite directions. Turn left and he'd be going towards the gaming district. Turn right and he would end up at the shops. The sun is directly above him now, signaling high noon, and the cicadas in the forest are deafeningly loud. It's an easy decision which way to go.
There's plenty of time for shopping later. Etho's got a certain pompous game on his mind. And it would simply be rude to pass by without at least taking a look, he thinks. It's Bdubs' tennis court! His friend has been working on it for months, and it would be only fair to check in on his progress. Besides that, Etho would never turn down a chance to see his best buddy BdoubleO100.
Hm. Buddy. Okay, to say that's what Bdubs is to Etho would probably be a slight understatement. It's hard to find the right word to describe their relationship, though. Yes, Bdubs is his friend — best friend even, but the label feels... inadequate. Bdubs is a part of Etho as much as the white scar slicing down the left side of his face is or the redstone dust that seems to have permanently stained his fingertips is. Yeah, they sometimes spend weeks, months even, apart, but they always come back to each other. Anyone who knows them could tell you that, with Etho and Bdubs, you can't have one without the other. And to Etho, it all makes perfect sense. He knows that Bdubs has been by his side through thick and thin for over a decade. He knows that, even though there might be a little bit of fighting and lying and hurting along the way, Bdubs will always be there for him and Etho likewise. And he knows that friends probably isn't how their relationship should be labelled but it's the easiest way for Etho to think about it so that's what he does. Bdubs is his friend. Friend.
So when Etho's heart starts beating a little faster as he rounds the corner and walks onto the court, it doesn't mean anything. And it definitely doesn't mean anything when he's stopped dead in his tracks as he catches sight of his friend. Bdubs is dressed in tennis whites. White polo shirt, shorts, socks and sneakers. He's even got a little lime and yellow logo embroidered on the top. But it isn't the clothes themselves that has Etho stood rooted to the ground. It's Bdubs. Etho knows that Bdubs has always been a good looking guy but gosh, in those tennis whites, on this burnt orange court, Bdubs looks breathtaking.
He's only a few metres away from Etho, but is so focused on his game that he hasn't seem to realise the taller man's presence. So Etho watches Bdubs from behind, admiring his athleticism (yep, that's why he's admiring, athleticism). Sweat dripping down his face, muscled arms flexing with every swing, strong legs striding side to side to make each shot— who wouldn't be captivated? Etho notices that Bdubs is making little sounds every time he hits the ball and he wonders, for a very brief moment, if his friend makes the same sounds when having se-
"SET POINT LIME" calls out the scoring system. The announcement snaps Etho out of his thoughts. Bdubs has stopped making sounds but echoes of his little grunts and breaths ring out in Etho's ears. Thankfully, he still has his back to him, completely oblivious to Etho's ogling. He's muttering to himself and Etho is not quite sure what exactly Bdubs is saying but he does catch something along the lines of "greatest player of all time". Etho keep on watching Bdubs as his friend presses a button on the floor with his foot and a ball is launched from the other side of the court.
"Hey Bdubs."
"Wha-"
Bdubs whips his head around at Etho's greeting, completely missing the ball which slams into his face and knocks him flat on his back. It's like something out of a cartoon and Etho doubles over laughing. Bdubs, still lying on the ground, grumbles something about Etho's lack of sympathy.
Etho does eventually extend out his hand and help pull Bdubs back onto his feet
"You here to play?" Bdubs asks excitedly.
"Nope," Etho replies, popping the 'p'. "Just needed to pick a few things from the shops".
"You sure you're not just afraid of getting your butt kicked by the king of the court?"
Etho chuckles and shakes his head.
Bdubs, seemingly satisfied with his response, heads on into the clubhouse. Etho follows a couple steps behind him, glad to be finally getting out of the heat. The clubhouse is a welcome respite, dark and cool, with the soft whirring of the overhead fan providing some calming ambience. Bdubs collapses into a plush armchair and pours himself a glass of ice water from a pitcher on the nearby coffee table. He stretches his tan legs out in front of him and Etho can't help but stare as his white shorts ride up and Bdubs muscled thighs are put on display. There are empty armchairs beside and opposite Bdubs but Etho perches himself on the arm of Bdubs' chair. It's easier this way, they're close but Etho doesn't have to look at him. On the clubhouse coffee table, there's a basket of breadsticks. Etho eyes them. Maybe later...
"I have some big news," he announces abruptly, breaking the silence.
Bdubs turns and peers up at him expectantly with big brown eyes. Etho stares at him back. The way they've seated themselves makes it awkward to look at each other, since both their bodies are facing forwards, so they're twisting their necks, but neither of them move.
Stubborn and stubborn-er.
"Well?" Bdubs presses.
Etho waits a beat, lets (unnecessary) tension build, before he answers.
"I've finished my base. It's done. I'm happy with it. Exterior and interior."
Bdubs' eyebrows rise in surprise. His wide mouth opens as if to respond but Etho doesn't let him.
"And," he continues, "I'm throwing a party."
Under his mask, Etho is grinning as he watches Bdubs' brain trying to process. A completed base and a party host? Yeah, his friend's mind was probably melting.
A few moments pass, then Bdubs is jumping out his chair and turning so he is directly in front of Etho. With Etho still sitting on the arm of the chair, they're now face to face, eye to eye.
"Etho, wha-, I can't belie-... are you being serious right now?"
Bdubs is standing very close, a couple inches closer and he would be pressing up against Etho's knees. He's close enough that Etho can clearly see, even with his bad eye, the freckles scattered across Bdubs' tanned face, a result, no doubt, of many hours of playing tennis in the summer sun. Bdubs didn't have freckles when they first met all those years ago, Etho remembers, but they look cute now, he thinks, dotted all over Bdubs nose and cheeks. Bdubs looks cute.
"Etho."
Oh right. Bdubs was asking him a question. Etho nods.
And within a heartbeat, Bdubs is grinning, wide and toothy, and warm hands have come up to grab Etho's shoulders, and are squeezing gently, and Bdubs is laughing and Etho's smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.
"Oh my goodness, Etho, I'm so proud of you, baby," Bdubs gasps. Etho's stomach does a flip at the praise. "And a party! To celebrate, right?"
"Mhm, like a housewarming thing."
Bdubs takes a small step back all of a sudden and crosses his arms. He's studying Etho with a smirk. Etho tilts his head to the side, a little confused at his friend's withdrawal.
"I'm surprised, Etho. I never took you to be the type of guy to go to parties let alone host one".
Bdubs' tone is teasing but Etho knows that the assumption holds some truth. He does realise that he usually tends to keep to himself, preferring to work on solo projects, but it does not mean he doesn't love spending time with his friends. He might not be the best at showing it but he's deeply grateful for all the wonderful people around him and cherishes the time he gets to spend with them.
But you probably won't ever hear that come out from Etho's mouth and especially not in front of Bdubs so Etho just shrugs at Bdubs' comment and tells his friend, "You never know, I might be throwing wild bashes every weekend and you're just not invited."
That gets a chuckle out of the shorter man.
"I'm your best friend," Bdubs says earnestly. "I would know."
He's absolutely right, but Etho won't tell him that. Instead, Etho reaches over to the basket on the coffee table and grabs a breadstick. He feels Bdubs' eyes on him as he tugs down his mask, brings the breadstick to his lips and takes a bite.
"Those are for club members only," Bdubs grumbles as Etho chews.
Etho locks eyes with Bdubs and takes another bite.
"7pm, my place, tomorrow. Everyone's welcome. I've sent out invites in the mail but spread the word," Etho tells Bdubs through a mouthful of breadstick.
Grinning, Bdubs nods enthusiastically as if he's taking it all in and grabs a breadstick for himself. The brunette brings the snack to his mouth but then his whole body freezes.
"Wait, wait, 7pm? The party starts at 7pm, Etho?"
"Mhm," Etho confirms as he pops the last of his own breadstick into his mouth. The salt has made him thirsty and Bdubs' glass is right there, half full and coated in condensation from the ice cold water it holds. But Etho doesn't move. Because Bdubs' grin has turned into something more close to a snarl.
Oh. Etho knows exactly what's coming now. And he has no intention of stopping it.
Bdubs' strong hand grabs him by the collar and he's pulled until their faces are inches apart. Big brown eyes bore into him and Etho stares right back, silent, unblinking, unphased.
"You... You jerkoff, you're doing this on purpose!"
The shorter man lets out a shaky, breathy chuckle and the hand hooked around his vest's lapel tightens as he makes his accusation but Etho's played this game of theirs countless of times over the last decade.
Bdubs will push. He'll push and push and push and push. And when it's his turn, Etho might push right back.
But it's not his turn. Not just yet.
"I'm not doing anything, Bdubs," Etho insists. His mask still pulled down under his chin so he flashes his friend a smile and Bdubs' grip loosens slightly. (His big brown eyes also definitely drop to Etho's lips but Etho tries not to think too hard about that) Either way, it's just enough of a distraction for Etho to shove his hand onto Bdubs' face and push him back so they're no longer practically breathing into each other's mouths.
Bdubs lets out a noise of protest as Etho's crumb covered fingers land on his face and he's forced backwards but his hand remains locked around Etho's collar.
"Sure you’re not!," Bdubs cries. "Finish your base, throw a party, invite Bdubs but..." he points his breadstick at Etho's face as if to emphasise his case, "You know he can't make it."
Can't make it? Etho may be somewhat of recluse, but he's almost certain there are no other events that clash with his party.
"What on earth are you talking about, Bdubs?"
His friend glares at him. "I gotta shreep, man!"
He says it with such earnest and indignation that Etho bursts out laughing.
"Etho, I'm serious," Bdubs insists.
Etho is sure he is. "You're coming to my party. 7pm sharp."
"No, I can't."
Bdubs' tone leaves no room for argument. Etho finds some anyway.
He rises to his feet and leans forward so his face is, once again, inches from the shorter man's. Gently, he nudges away the breadstick pointed at him.
His turn to play. To push.
"Bdubs," Etho implores, his voice dipping low, "you don't want to be the only person on the entire server who didn't attend Ethoslab's housewarming party, do you?"
To Etho's suprise, Bdubs doesn't fold immediately.
"Change the time Etho. Or I'm not coming."
Etho lets out a long sigh and Bdubs snorts loudly at his theatrics.
Then, all of a sudden, Etho is awash with a wave of great affection for the man in front of him. Before he can stop himself, his hands are coming up to cup Bdubs' cheeks. They're so warm, he notices, and stubble-ly and scattered with breadstick crumbs from when Etho shoved his hand in his face.
As he holds Bdubs' cheeks, Etho's mind wanders to his own base, how it's peaceful and beautifully decorated and full of charm but honestly... empty of what he needs most. Who he needs most.
"Please come, BdoubleO."
It just slips out and Etho is startled by the sincerity that bleeds into his own voice.
So much so that he drops his hands to his sides, takes a small step back and says, with as much bravado he can muster, "You'll be alright if you stay up past your bedtime for just a night."
And then, before Bdubs can react or respond or do anything, Etho turns on his heel and walks straight out of the clubhouse.
He doesn't look back nor does he stop walking until he's almost reached the shopping district. The afternoon heat has him sweating and winded so he stops under a birch tree to catch his breath.
Bdubs will come to his party, Etho has no doubt of that.
BdoubleO100 whispers to you: i ain't coming!
No doubt at all.