Work Text:
Clown had been thinking a lot. Which… isn’t weird, he always does that—what was weird was what he had been thinking about. Feelings (ew). Terrible, terrible feelings. The deadliest player on the deadliest Minecraft world has feelings? Someone kill him. (Not literally, he likes his hearts.) And these weird feelings are the reason he’s even holding an unconscious Branzy in his arms—in his arms—Branzy is in his arms.
“I’m so fucked.”
The white haired man was leaning into him, eyes closed and peaceful like he wasn’t with the ClownPierce—he supposes the man was unconscious, so he let it slide. He finds his gloved hand reaching to the other’s soft-looking hair but was humbled when he remembered he had a gloved hand. Whatever, no-one saw, hopefully… He lifts the other up with some quick ease, hoisting him over his shoulder as he began moving to his room. (not Branzy’s because.. well, his room’s better.)
The bed let out a small thud in response to the Branzy being dropped on it and a small noise when Clown sat next. The masked jester couldn’t help but stare at the other’s peaceful state as he laid unconscious. Ah, that reminds him, his mask. His gloved hand reached up to take it off, but as his eyes glanced at Branzy, he decided not to.
“Clown?”
The jester had barely reacted to the sudden noise, turning to the other.
“Branzy—you’re awake.” His voice sounded far too relieved than he had hoped. Dang it.
“I am?”
Well, maybe Clown had overestimated him. Maybe the other wasn’t awake—not fully, atleast. “Yes, my sweet Branzy. You are, infact, awake.” He almost chuckled, almost.
Branzy didn’t seem to find it humorous, assuming he even heard Clown. Instead, he grabbed the other’s arm and held it against him.
With anyone else, Clown would’ve pulled away and maybe even sliced their head off.(Not maybe, definitely.) He would never let himself be pulled in close in bed, never. He also wouldn’t let someone cuddle him like this, never. So, pray tell, why is he letting his partner (in crime, ofcourse.) do all that?
Because he’s in love obviously too tired to protest. No ulterior motives, not at all. He doesn’t feel warm and tingly when Branzy nuzzles closely, why would you think that?
“You’re lucky I don’t have my scythe.”
He whispered to nobody, lying to himself. His scythe resting untouched in his inventory, very much usable.