Chapter Text
Jupiter learns a lot about his new travelling partner that first night. The warrior goes to bed early as he always does— nighttime is dangerous in Miitopia— and assumes Atticus won’t be far behind.
Sometime early-morning (two, three maybe?) he stirs. Jupiter is almost positive that it should still be dark out, but the room is dimly-lit. Surely his companion didn’t go to sleep with the lantern still burning?
“Was I being too loud?”
Jupiter startles, rolling over frantically. His friend stares at him from across the room, lantern-light glinting in his glasses. It is definitely way too late to still be pouring over parchment.
“No,” Jupiter finally responds. “I don’t think so, anyway.” He blinks more sleep from his eyes. “Why are you still up?”
The little thief turns back to his paper. “We have no idea where we’re going.”
“Yeah, we do. East.” Jupiter sighs, sitting up. “You worry too much, little red.”
“I worry a reasonable amount.” Atticus looks at him, expression caught between a glare and a grimace. “We have to leave early tomorrow. You should go back to sleep.”
“Says the one who hasn’t slept at all?”
The thief draws a little arrow somewhere on the map. It’s very thoroughly labelled; every landmark has a set of instructions and a clear path to the next one. He pointedly doesn’t respond.
Jupiter takes a long sip from his water bottle, considering. Now that he thinks about it, Atticus had already been running on fumes when Jupiter had saved him. He’d caught snippets of the kid’s story; the thief seemed convinced that he’d lead the Dark Lord to Greenhorne, which… was probably a load of junk. Evil likes to pick on small towns and kings. Atticus (probably) had nothing to do with it.
Jupiter was a warrior, trained before leaving home. The little thief had been thrust into chaos and suddenly had the world on his shoulders.
Gods above, no wonder the kid was stressed.
“Alright, little red. C’mere.”
“What?”
“Get over here.”
Atticus— looking confused as hell, for obvious reasons— trudges over. The moment the kid is in range, Jupiter grabs him. “We’re having a sleepover.”
It’s a wrestle to get him into the blankets. “What—? Hey! Get off of me!”
“You need rest, kid!”
“You’re only a year older than me!”
They bicker back and forth for a long while, struggling with sheets and bantering about blankets. Eventually, Atticus ends up effectively swaddled, growling like a dog. Jupiter flops down next to him and waits for him to settle; he takes the thief’s glasses, setting them on the nearby table.
The kid looks exhausted. He’ll thank Jupiter later.
“Goodnight, Atty-boo.”
“Go to hell, Jupiter.”
It’s maybe five minutes before he’s out like a light.