Chapter Text
Nobody really remembered who suggested the party.
Maybe Spongs. Maybe leekleek.
Or maybe someone had simply rolled three heavy wooden barrels of spiced apple cider into the old hunting lodge, and everyone else decided that was reason enough to stop counting blocks for the night.
It didn't matter.
By the time the sun finally disappeared behind the ragged tips of the spruce trees, half the server had squeezed themselves into the warmth of the cabin tucked between the rushing river and the deep woods.
The room was a heavy, comforting blur of senses. It smelled like woodsmoke, fresh bread right out of the oven, roasted pig, and wet cloaks drying beside the great stone fireplace.
Spilled cider soaked slowly into the old floorboards. A boards that had probably witnessed a hundred nights just like this one, worn smooth by years of heavy boots and shared laughter.
Someone was playing a fiddle in the corner. Poorly. Someone else insisted they could sing along to the tune. Even more poorly.
Nobody cared.
For once, absolutely nobody was trying to win. There were no raids planned, no territory disputes being drawn up on maps, and no hidden redstone traps waiting beneath the woolen carpets.
There were just people. Laughing, shouting over the music, and letting the exhaustion of the world slide off their shoulders.
Sharpness almost hadn't come.
He rarely liked large crowds.
they felt too loud, too full of shifting eyes and conversations he had to navigate.
Too many people always trying to prove they were the strongest person in the room.
He had spent enough years doing exactly that, carrying the weight of his sword and his reputation like a permanent shield.
Then Saparata had grabbed him firmly by the shoulder near the path and physically dragged him through the front door into the warmth.
"There you are!"
Saparata shouted, his voice booming over the fiddle.
A heavy clay mug appeared in Sharpness's hand before he had even taken his leather gloves off. He looked at the bubbling foam, then at the crowded room, letting out a small sigh.
"...I'm leaving in an hour."
Bitzel barked out a laugh from a nearby bench, raising his own drink.
"You've said that every single party, Sharpness."
"I've only been to two."
"Exactly."
Across the room, illuminated by the amber glow of the hearth, JudeLow was already losing miserably at card games. He was sitting cross-legged on a low bench, his dark hair a little messy, surrounded by a pile of empty small coins and a half-drained cup.
"This game is SO rigged," Jude announced, his voice carrying a slight, lazy drawl as he threw his cards down onto the table.
"You shuffled, Jude," Godis pointed out with a smirk.
"I shuffled badly," Jude shot back, leaning his chin into his palm.
"It was a tactical miscalculation."
"Skill issue."
"I hate all of you so much,"
Jude muttered, though there wasn't a single shred of real anger in his eyes.
"You'll still play another round anyway," Parker said, already dealing the next hand.
Jude watched the cards slide across the wood, his hybrid ears twitching slightly. "...Probably."
Sharpness watched him from the doorway longer than he should have.
The flickering firelight softened the usually sharp, guarded lines of Jude's face, making the calculated villain look remarkably human. His long sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing forearms dusted with old redstone scrapes, and his ears gave a small, distinct flick every time Parker sneakily stole another coin from the center pot.
Sharpness smiled before he even realized he was doing it
A genuine, unprompted expression that skipped past all his usual defenses.
Jude looked up immediately, as if he possessed a tracking sensor specifically tuned to Sharpness’s coordinates. He caught him dead in the act.
"...What?" Sharpness asked, his voice dropping as he took a step forward.
Jude’s face split into a wide, unshielded grin.
"Nothing."
Sharpness walked closer, his thumb tracing the rim of his mug.
"...You're smiling."
"I smile," Jude reasoned, his head tilting lazily.
"Not at me?"
Sharpness looked away quickly, his heart giving an annoying, irregular thud against his ribs.
"...Coincidence."
"Sure it is," Jude whispered, his voice warm and entirely too close as he leaned back against the bench, his magenta eyes locked onto Sharpness like a permanent target.
The hours began to blur together into a long, continuous stream of warmth.
To Sharpness, the party felt like an endless, beautiful stretch of time where the clocks had simply stopped working. The stories told around the hearth became grander and more ridiculous with every passing hour.
The barrels grew emptier, and the heavy mugs were refilled before they could ever hit the wood.
Slowly, the crowd moved from the formal tables down to the floor itself, gathering in a loose circle around the dying embers of the fire.
Someone claimed they had once fought off six creepers simultaneously with nothing but a broken wooden shovel. Someone else loudly claimed that Parker had actually apologized during an argument last Tuesday.
The entire room immediately agreed that the second story was mathematically impossible. Parker looked deeply, profoundly offended, throwing his hands in the air.
"I apologized once!" Parker defended himself, his face flushed from the heat and the cider.
"When?" Flankeee demanded.
"I don't remember!"
"Exactly!"
Laughter filled the lodge all over again—warm, easy, and completely free of malice. It echoed off the old wooden beams until it felt like the building itself was alive, laughing along with them in the dark.
Sharpness leaned his back against a structural post, taking a slow sip from his mug. He couldn't remember the last time he had sat in a room where nobody expected a single thing from him.
No fights, no posturing, no strategic talk.
It felt... nice. Dangerously, terrifyingly nice.
Jude, however, had completely abandoned all attempts at self-preservation about four drinks ago. He was sitting directly on the floorboards now, his knees pulled loosely to his chest, his eyes a little unfocused but still incredibly bright despite how he is.
"I," Jude announced to absolutely nobody in particular, his voice carrying that soft, heavy slur that only came from the bottom of a barrel, "am a tactical genius."
"You lost six rounds of cards in a row, Jude," Godis reminded him from across the circle.
"I lost strategically," Jude corrected instantly, raising a finger in the air to emphasize his point.
"It was a long-term investment."
"You walked directly into your own bluff."
"It was an emotional decision," Jude murmured, his head dropping back against the bench behind him.
"It was objectively the wrong decision."
"It built character," Jude insisted, his ears flopping forward over his eyes.
"I am building a vast reservoir of character tonight."
"You don't need more character, you idiot," Parker chuckled, tossing a small piece of bread at him.
"You need a better card hand."
"I disagree."
Sharpness laughed. A real laugh. Not the polite one he used to ease social tension, and not the sarcastic, biting one he deployed during combat duels. An actual, deep laugh that shook his shoulders.
Jude's head turned instantly toward the sound, his magenta eyes locking onto Sharpness's face with terrifying, pinpoint accuracy. "There."
"What," Sharpness said, his laughter dying down into a amused smile.
"That one."
"...What one?"
"Your laugh," Jude whispered, his voice suddenly dropping into a low, private register that completely ignored the rest of the noisy room.
Sharpness frowned slightly, though his pulse was beginning to race. "...You're drunk, Jude."
"I am incredibly observant," Jude countered, his head swaying just a fraction as he leaned forward. "I am a master of data collection."
"You can barely hold your own mug straight."
"I contain multitudes, Sharpness."
"You contain a massive amount of cider."
Jude grinned, his teeth showing in the firelight. "I contain both. Mostly the cider, but the multitudes are definitely in there somewhere."
Another round was poured. Another ridiculous story echoed through the rafters.
Another hour slipped away into the dark, unnoticed by anyone inside. Outside, the rain began to fall in earnest, tapping a soft, rhythmic lullaby against the glass windows of the lodge. Nobody left. Nobody even looked at the door.
Jude wandered over eventually.
It wasn’t a graceful movement—he stumbled slightly over a discarded cloak on the floor—but it wasn’t a total disaster either. He was just drunk enough to have completely forgotten that personal space was a concept that existed on the server.
He leaned one elbow heavily against the low table right next to Sharpness’s thigh, balancing himself precariously. He was far too close. Sharpness could smell the sweet, fermented scent of apple cider and the warmth of the fire radiating off Jude's skin.
Jude's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he stared up at him. Sharpness already knew that specific, intense look.
On any normal day, it meant Jude was about to drop a piece of devastating blackmail or reveal a hidden trap that would blow up half his base.
"...Sharpness," Jude murmured, his voice velvety and slow.
"What."
"I have been thinking."
Sharpness let out a breath, shifting his weight slightly. "...Should I be worried?"
"...Probably," Jude whispered, his head tilting so close that the tip of his hybrid ear brushed lightly against Sharpness's shoulder armor.
Sharpness sighed, trying to ignore the sudden spark of heat that ran down his spine.
"Go on then. Get it over with."
Jude didn't drop a sarcastic comment.
Instead, he simply studied Sharpness's face with an expression of absolute, unfiltered concentration. He looked like an engineer trying to solve the most beautiful, complex puzzle he had ever encountered in his life. The usual walls—the sharp smirk, the biting irony, the defensive posture—were entirely gone, washed away by the alcohol until there was nothing left but raw, defenseless clarity.
"...Your eyes are really pretty," Jude said clearly.
The immediate corner of the room seemed to halt. It wasn't a dramatic, server-wide silence, but it was enough to suffocate someone. Parker slowly lowered his mug halfway to his mouth. Taimc looked up from his cards, his eyebrows raised. Across the hearth, Spongs made a very complicated, highly amused face.
Sharpness forgot how the mechanics of breathing worked. His chest felt completely locked. "...What?"
Jude blinked, entirely unfazed by the sudden shift in the room's atmosphere.
"They're..." He frowned, his brow furrowing as he searched his hazy brain for the exact words he wanted.
"...They're just really shiny. Like... when the sun hits the water blocks by the base. Exactly like that."
Sharpness stared at him, his entire face growing incredibly hot. He could feel the warmth climbing rapidly into the tips of his ears. This was ridiculous. Completely, utterly ridiculous.
Because Jude wasn't flirting to gain an advantage. He wasn't trying to embarrass him in front of the faction, and he wasn't wearing that smug, insincere smirk he used when he was playing a role. He looked entirely, painfully honest.
He looked like a person who had simply noticed something beautiful in the middle of a crowded room and didn't possess a single filter left to tell him why he shouldn't say it out loud.
That somehow made the entire situation infinitely worse. It was too real.
Sharpness trying to suppress his emotions. While Jude still glanced at his olive green eyes like they contain something so precious. Something he can't get his gaze off.
Godis stood up from the bench, clearing his throat loudly.
"I'm going outside to check the horses."
"Good idea," Parker answered immediately, slamming his mug down.
"I'm preserving what's left of my sanity. I don't need to be rendered in for whatever this is."
As the night deepened, the party gradually spilled out toward the large stone fire pit just under the porch roof. The crisp, cold night air replaced the heavy smoke of the indoor cabin, shocking Sharpness’s senses back into awareness.
Someone passed around another smaller barrel of spirits. Someone else started dancing on the damp grass.
Flankeee somehow managed to convince Spongs to join him in a ridiculous, off-beat jig. It was a terrible display of coordination, but everyone applauded and shouted anyway, their voices carrying out into the dark spruce woods.
Jude watched the dancers for a little while, his head nodding slightly to the faint music, before he quietly turned away and began wandering down the slope toward the riverbanks.
Sharpness noticed his departure the exact second it happened. His eyes tracked the dark coat as Jude slipped into the shadows of the trees.
"...Go get him," Parker said quietly, appearing at Sharpness's elbow with a knowing look.
Sharpness didn't look at him.
"...Why me, of all people?"
"Because if I go down there, he'll just argue with me about redstone templates out of pure habit," Parker noted, taking a slow sip of water.
"And if you don't go..."
"What?"
Parker looked him dead in the eye.
"You'll just stand here and worry about him the entire night anyway. Save us both the trouble."
Sharpness hated how accurate that evaluation was. He handed his mug to Parker without a word and followed the path down into the dark.
The river reflected the full moon like a sheet of polished, moving silver. The sound of the rushing water was loud out here, drowning out the worst of the fiddle music from the lodge.
Jude was sitting directly on a mossy log near the edge of the bank, his boots dangling mere inches above the dark, swirling water. He looked small against the backdrop of the massive forest.
Sharpness quietly lowered himself onto the log beside him, keeping his movements slow so he wouldn't startle him.
"...You almost drowned just now."
Jude didn't look up, but his ears gave a lazy flick. "I absolutely did not."
"You were practically standing in the river when I walked down the path."
"It attacked me," Jude muttered, his chin resting flat against his chest.
"The river."
"It's a very suspicious river, Sharpness. The currents are emotionally volatile."
Sharpness laughed. Softly, this time. The music from the lodge drifted across the open water, muted and softened by the distance until it felt like a dream. It was comfortable out here in the dark. No walls. No traps. Just the two of them sitting on a log.
Jude tipped his head all the way back, staring up through the gaps in the pine needles.
"The stars are nice tonight."
"Mhm," Sharpness agreed, looking up at the skyline.
"They're clear."
"They're not as nice as your eyes, though,"
Jude said casually, his voice completely level, as if he were stating a standard server statistic.
Sharpness groaned loudly, dropping his face straight into his open palms.
"...Jude. Please."
"What?" Jude turned his head, his magenta eyes wide and entirely defenseless in the moonlight. "What did I do?"
"Please stop saying that."
"I'm complimenting you," Jude reasoned, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion.
"You're supposed to say thank you."
"You're drunk," Sharpness said, his voice muffled behind his hands.
Jude frowned, a small, stubborn pout forming on his lips. "So?"
"So..." Sharpness lowered his hands, looking out over the silver ripples of the river. His chest felt incredibly tight, a heavy ache settling beneath his armor plates.
"So tomorrow you're going to wake up, and you're going to pretend none of this ever happened. You'll put the walls back up. You'll make a joke about it, or you'll pretend you don't even remember the conversation."
Jude went entirely quiet. He remained still for so long that Sharpness almost thought the alcohol had finally won and he had drifted off to sleep against the wood.
Instead, Jude shifted his weight, turning his whole body toward him.
"...Do you want me to?"
Sharpness looked back at him, caught off guard.
Jude wasn't smiling anymore.
The playful, messy energy of the party had drained away, leaving his expression strangely soft. Vulnerable in a way that Sharpness had never seen in all his months on the server. There were no layers left between them.
No redstone traps, no biting sarcasm, no defense mechanisms. Just Jude.
"I mean it,"
Jude said, his voice barely louder than the rushing water beneath their boots.
"I've always thought your eyes were pretty, Sharpness. Every single time you sit in my clearing."
A small, self-deprecating laugh escaped Jude's lips, his ears drooping slightly.
"I just... usually don't say things like that."
"Why not?" Sharpness asked, his own voice cracking just a fraction.
"Because they're embarrassing,"
Jude muttered, looking down at his own hands.
"Because if I say them, then you know. And if you know, then... I don't know. It's safer when nobody knows things."
Sharpness felt his heart clench violently.
"So you actually think these things when you're sober."
"...Mhm."
"And you never tell anyone."
"...Mhm."
Sharpness swallowed hard, the cold night air suddenly feeling entirely too thin.
"Then why are you telling me right now?"
Jude looked up through his messy dark hair, his gaze steady and clear, staring at Sharpness as though the answer was the most obvious piece of logic in the entire world.
"Because it's you."
It's you
Just two words. Simple. Uncomplicated. Stripped of any tactical maneuvering.
Sharpness had fought against players who wielded maximum-enchanted netherite swords, and none of them had ever hit him half as hard as that single sentence.
He didn't know what to do with the weight of it. He didn't know whether to lean into the warmth and believe it completely, or whether he needed to immediately build a wall to protect himself from the fallout.
Because tomorrow would inevitably come.
Tomorrow, Jude would be entirely sober.
The sun would rise over the spruce trees, the barrels would be empty, and the armor would go back on. The teasing would return.
The sharp sarcasm.
The carefully curated pretense of being ruthless rivals who merely tolerated each other's presence for tactical reasons.
And Sharpness wasn't entirely sure if he could survive the reality of knowing that this honest, beautiful version of JudeLow only existed at the very bottom of a cider mug.
"I wish..." Sharpness started, then cut himself off, his throat locking up.
Jude tilted his head, his ears twitching with quiet curiosity.
"What?"
Sharpness forced a smile onto his face, but it felt incredibly fragile, like ice cracking over the river blocks.
"I wish you were sober, Jude."
Jude let out a quiet, rhythmic laugh, the sound warm against the night air.
"You always wish for the most impossible things, Sharpness."
"...Yeah," Sharpness whispered, looking down at the dark moss. "I know I do."
"I know too," Jude murmured.
Then, after a quiet moment wrapped in the sound of the river, Jude reached out. He did it with the careless, unthinking confidence that only drunken honesty could grant a person. His gloved fingers extended through the space between them, finding the edge of Sharpness's sleeve.
He didn't grab his hand. He didn't push for a grand gesture. He just took a firm hold of the dark fabric of the sleeve—just enough to keep him there. Just enough to ensure Sharpness couldn't pull away into the dark.
"I don't want you to go back to the lodge yet,"
Jude said softly, his fingers tightening slightly on the cloth.
"Stay here, please."
Sharpness looked down at that tiny, fragile point of contact. He stared at the hand that a sober, guarded Jude would have pulled back in an instant out of pure self-preservation.
And in that exact frame of time, Sharpness realized the cruelest part of the entire night wasn't hearing every single beautiful thing Jude actually thought about him.
It was the lingering, terrifying certainty that when the sun finally came up over the valley, Jude probably wouldn't remember a single syllable he had spoken out here by the water.
But Sharpness would. He would remember every single word.
Every unfiltered glance.
Every quiet, vulnerable confession spoken between the laughter and the cider.
He would carry the weight of it long after the bonfire burned out,
long after the party finally ended