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Mapicc felt like mush.
He’d spent the entire day on his feet— or knocked out onto his ass, if he’s being honest— either fighting, running, flying, or trying to think of something witty to say mid-battle.
Mapicc’s elytra was in tatters, and the hem of his hoodie was laced with stray gunpowder. There was no doubt that the exhaustion was visible in his posture as he headed towards his home base, the one he shared with Spoke.
Fighting back against the Zam Empire, or Ro, was tough work. He always preferred the days he could spend with Spoke, setting out to blow up another stash of duped items, getting themselves into a stupid amount of trouble while bantering off of one another. It was dangerous. It was thrilling. It was fun.
Even though his old routine– his quiet base, his kelp furnaces– ended in a literal explosion, Mapicc had gotten used to his new life quickly. Running from the Empire, picking away at their grand goal of returning the server to stability, having a home to come back to at the end of the day. And with a friend at his side, no less.
Today, though, from sunrise to sunset, it had just been him, scoping out a new stash. The day wasn’t nearly as fun without Spoke– he had instead elected to hang back at home base and plot out the rest of the dupe vaults.
Finally, though, the day's work was done. Another scuffle narrowly escaped, another base location destroyed.
Up ahead now, Mapicc could spot his home base, even in the darkness of the night.
He spent his last handful of fireworks to land somewhat ungraciously a few steps from the entrance. It was only when Mapicc opened the front door and saw his best friend that he finally untensed his shoulders.
Spoke was standing in the common area, arms crossed, a tiny smile on his mouth— but the concern in his eyes was obvious. His tail was flicking to and fro slightly.
“Mapicc. Dude.”
“Yeah. Missed you, too.”
Spoke uncrossed his arms and went over to him, asking, “Where’ve you been? I was starting to think they finally got you for good.”
“Nah, c’mon, seriously? Just been out and about,” Mapicc said plainly, peeling off his elytra. “Ran into Zam. Er, well, just his guards. Tracked me a good few hundred chunks.”
Spoke looked him over as he listened, eyes quietly checking Mapicc for any injuries. “But you’re okay?”
“Bro, duh,” he said lightheartedly, and flexed the soreness in his hands. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Spoke gave a mocking scrunch of his nose, and then his eyes fell on Mapicc’s tattered elytra.
“Jeez,” he said, picking it up as carefully as if it were about to crumble. “Mapes, the hell did you do, shove this thing into a lawn mower?”
“Maybe.”
“Seriously, though.” Spoke lifted up one threadbare corner. “Don’t you take care of this thing?”
Mapicc shrugged, mostly too tired to give a real reply— he had been too busy fighting to even notice its disheveled state.
At that, Spoke huffed and then headed over to the couch, elytra in his lap as he sat down.
Mapicc frowned slightly, trailing after him. “Wha— Hold on, what are you doing with that?”
“Fixing it,” he said, holding up the fabric to better see the damage.
Mapicc didn’t have the brainpower to do anything but shrug and follow, slumping down onto the couch beside Spoke. He truly was bone-tired, and the extent of it was finally settling in. At least he was finally home, where he could rest.
They shared the silence for a while; Mapicc mentally plotted out the soreness in his legs while Spoke ran his fingers over the elytra, trying to find all the tears to fix.
Of which there were a lot.
And that was when Spoke turned and looked at Mapicc, then back down at the elytra. His expression was one of quiet concern.
“Mapicc. Exactly, uh, how bad was the fight today?”
A noncommittal shrug from Mapicc. “Same as always.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, voice clipped. “Just tired.”
Spoke didn’t say anything. Mapicc sensed his skepticism and assured, “I’m fine. I swear.”
“How many of those guards did you run into, even?”
Mapicc mumbled some reply, but upon Spoke’s glare, he sighed and tried again, louder this time. “I dunno. A few. A handful, I guess.”
Mapicc glanced up. Spoke had set down the elytra, giving another skeptical tilt of the head. It was a look he knew well.
Mapicc groaned. “Ugh, I really don’t wanna talk about this right now. I’m tired.”
Spoke said simply, “I should’ve been there with you.”
“Meh. It was nice not having to save George Junior for the billionth time.”
Spoke lightly elbowed him in the ribs, scoffing. “Lies. I know you love that fish.”
“Yeah, right,” Mapicc teased back.
He leaned back into the couch and watched as Spoke continued to fiddle with his elytra. It really was in poor shape, from the constant rough landings or debris it’d been hit with.
Mapicc’s eyes were drooping shut, but he didn’t quite feel like hauling himself to his bed. He blinked sleepily over at Spoke. The option presented itself to him, and he didn’t think twice. Mapicc scooted close before unceremoniously draping himself into his friend's lap.
Spoke had to lift his hands— and the elytra— to allow room for the clingy Mapicc to get comfortable.
“Dude,” Spoke huffed, although there was no bite to his words. “I’m trying to fix your crap.”
“Whatever,” Mapicc mumbled back. “Can you lay down already?”
“Did you miss the part where I said I’m trying to fix your elytra?” Spoke said through a small laugh.
Mapicc’s hand was sleepily trying to find its way to Spoke’s shoulder, lightly pushing him down to lie horizontally.
“Mmph. Fine.”
Spoke laid down sideways along the couch, with Mapicc in tow— who took no time at all to snug himself even closer. Any attempt at repairing the elytra was proven difficult, now with Mapicc occupying his place atop Spoke, head resting on his chest.
Spoke scoffed. “You’re making this impossible.”
Mapicc replied by burying his face into Spoke’s shirt. His friend then made some attempt to get up from the couch, but again Mapicc mumbled in protest.
“C’mon, get up a little,” Spoke tried to coax. “I wanna fix the hem, at least.”
“Later. I’m tired.”
“I’m not sleeping on this couch. I’ll wake up with a crick in my back again.”
“Meh.”
“Meh? What do you mean, meh?”
Mapicc didn’t reply to that. He’d usually have a handful of jokes to shoot back, but his mind was so muzzy from sleepiness he couldn't scrape together anything funny to say.
The exhaustion, the constant feeling of being on-edge today– it had drained him entirely. All he wanted to do was stay here, hearing the rumble of Spoke’s voice, the blessed silence of their base, only with the sound of the contented thump thump of Spoke’s tail against the couch. Though, he would rather choke than ever admit it was wagging.
Mapicc’s tired state was probably increasingly obvious to Spoke, who huffed a sigh in resignation, and tossed the elytra over the backside of the couch for later. “Fine. You win,” he said, and shifted his weight, tugging Mapicc closer with his newly-free hands. One hand settled on the back of Mapicc’s neck, the other tugged off his soot-coated red headband and set it aside.
Any embarrassment that came with literally snuggling his best friend was overridden by the comfort it provided. And given the chaos of their days, they took soft moments whenever they could get them.
Times like these filled him with this sense of gratitude— gratitude that he could ever lead this sort of life, that he deserved it at all. He could drown in it. With a tiny hum, he smushed the side of his head closer to Spoke, adjusting his weight to lie more comfortably against his friend's chest.
Spoke’s tail wrapped around them, whether he meant it to or not. “You smell like gunpowder,” he commented drily.
Mapicc scoffed. “Yeah, well, that elytra is the only thing saving my butt most of the time. Feels like I spent most of the day flying from people who’re trying to kill me.”
Spoke lightly flicked the side of Mapicc’s temple. “Then I’m not kidding, Mapes. You better take good care of this thing. Imagine it breaks mid-air— That— Dude. You’d be screwed.”
“Water bucket,” Mapicc provided.
A scoff from Spoke. “Like you can hit a water bucket clutch.”
“I can!” he grumbled back.
Comfortable silence enveloped them. Mapicc was getting incrementally more sleepy; one hand was hanging off the couch and the other remained tucked around Spoke’s side.
Spoke began to talk about his day; anecdotes about messing up their sugar cane farm or trying to fix redstone. Mapicc just hummed thoughtfully as he listened; the franticness of his day seemed so distant.
During one lull in conversation, Mapicc spoke up with a detail from his own day.
“You know,” he began to mumble out, because he felt like Spoke should know about it, “He’s got a mace.”
Spoke paused. “What? Who?”
“Wemmbu.”
Spoke went quiet for a long moment. “You ran into him?”
“More like he ran into me.”
“But, uh. You’re okay, right?”
Mapicc said nothing. The silence sent something unsteady stirring into Spoke’s voice. “Mapicc?”
“Well, it was just a little scrape,” he murmured in reply, not really answering, just turning his face further into Spoke’s shirt.
“How many totems did you go through?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m only telling you that someone out there’s got a mace.”
“Mapicc,” Spoke said, more firmly. “How many totems?”
He braced himself. Almost didn’t say it. “Two.”
Spoke’s hand settled instinctively on Mapicc’s neck, curling into his nape, as if making sure he was not going anywhere.
“Dude,” Spoke said, voice tight. “Jeez. I don’t know why the hell you go out there by yourself.”
“Why do you worry? I’m a good fighter,” Mappic attested. “I hold my own out there, and... I’m supposed to be fighting. Helping. Doing our duty to un-fuck the server. Among other things.”
Spoke said nothing to that. No doubt he was simultaneously cursing and admiring Mapicc’s unbridled sense of loyalty. But, really, he couldn’t help it.
The silence stretched far too long, and eventually Mapicc cracked an eye open and said to him, “I am careful, though.”
Spoke didn’t look very convinced.
“I am.”
“I believe you.”
With that, they sunk back into silence. After a few moments, Spoke poked his friend’s shoulder lightly and whispered, “Are you asleep?”
“No,” came a mumble from a very sleepy Mapicc.
“Because, Mapes, I’ve been thinking, that… um, well, you don’t have to live this life.”
That question broke through Mapicc’s sleepiness, enough to make him lift his head slightly to face his friend. “Huh?”
“I mean…” Spoke paused, sighed. “I remember when we first met. You had no idea what you were getting into, running with me. Now we’ve got the Empire, and Wemmbu, and Ro, all the exploits, not to mention—”
“—Bro,” Mapicc interrupted. “Shut up.”
Spike blinked down at him.
“You honestly believe that?” Mapicc scoffed lightheartedly. “You think I hate this? No, idiot, I love it. Every second of it, dude. And only ‘cuz I’ve got my best friend to make it worthwhile.”
Spoke huffed, disbelieving.
“I’m serious,” he said. “What would I be doing instead if I wasn’t hanging with you, huh? Smelting kelp all day?”
“Knowing you? Yeah, probably.”
Mapicc laughed, for what felt like the first time today, and Spoke did, too. “I think I do, actually, have some smoked kelp left over.”
“Not hungry.”
“Damn,” Spoke said. “You are tired.”
“You didn’t believe me when I first said so? Shaking my head.”
“Did you just say ‘shaking my head’ out loud?”
He huffed a laugh. “Yeah.”
“Mapicc, you are so weird.”
“But I mean it,” Mapicc said, growing more sleepy. “I wouldn’t give this up for anything.”
Spoke’s hand still hadn’t abandoned its spot from where it was cradling the back of Mapicc’s neck. He thought vaguely that Spoke’s hand was really looking for a reassuring pulse.
In any case, it was nice, Mapicc decided, and his thoughts grew fuzzy as he slowly drifted off to sleep, just the comfort of his best friend holding him as he finally took rest.