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Slimecicle felt very very wrong. His mucus membrane (skin, he reminded himself) was a bit wrinkly, his throat dry and weirdly, the desert sun felt cool against his slime body. He hated it, not knowing what to do with himself except drag himself out of his storage-room-turned-home and throw himself into the fountain at the center of the country.
It helps slightly, his slime body reabsorbing some moisture, but the itch in his throat only finding temporary relief in the desperate mouthfuls of the fountain water. Slimesicle lets himself float in the water, gently being pushed by the cool currents of water from the fountain stream. He begins to feel sharp pains thrum through his body, but he much prefers these pains rather than the overbearing dryness he felt this morning.
Distantly, he hears splashing and wonders if another mob had followed his lead of a refreshing sip. Well, as long as he didn’t have to get out, he was fine with sharing!
Two hands roughly grab his shoulder and arm and pull him upwards, out of the water. He coughs up some water in his throat and looks up with a small frown. “Hey, man, I’m taking a dip,” he manages before falling into a violent coughing fit, the itch in his throat returning with fervor.
“You- You were drowning!” he hears Quackity’s voice say. Slimesicle looks up with curiosity, covering his mouth as coughs subside for a moment.
“Oh, was I?” Slimesicle asked, finally looking up at Quackity. Quackity was wearing his normal business suit and beanie combo, black leather shoes still on in the water.
“Yeah! What the hell are you doing? You could have died!” Quackity yells, pulling Slimecicle out of the water and trying to push him into a standing position. Slimesicle went limp, trying to return to the water.
“I was feeling really thirsty, so I came to the moistest spot in the country, Quackity from Las Nevadas!” Slimesicle replied happily. “And to be frank, I’d like to get back to that, if you don’t mind!”
“What? No, get up, Charlie! I can’t just let you drown out here,” Quackity yelled, beginning to walk to the edge of the fountain, pulling Slimecicle alongside him.
“Quackity… from Las Nevadas, I am feeling like my insides want to become outsides,” Slimesicle realized, feeling his stomach churn. Quackity’s eyes widened and he dragged Slimecicle desperately to the edge of the fountain.
“Don’t you fucking dare throw up in my fountain, Charlie!”
-
“You have a fever,” Quackity said with a sigh. He pulled his hand away from Slimesicle’s forehead. They were sitting in Quackity’s room, Slimecicle on the bed and Quackity in a desk chair next to him. Slimecicle sipped on a mug of warm water with lemon Quackity had offered him to get him out of the fountain.
“Haha, thank you,” Slimecicle said neutrally.
Quackity tsk’d at him and sighed. “You’re sick, man.”
“Oh!” Slimecicle understood that. “Thank you! You’re sick too! Dap me up!”
Quackity half heartedly held his hand up for Slimecicle to dap with his warm, slightly sticky hand. Quackity shook his head.
“You have a cold, you’re literally sick,” Quackity tried to clarify. Slimecicle took a moment to process that before opening his mouth in a small ‘oh’ of realization.
“Does that mean I’m dying?”
“You’re fine, your body is probably just fighting off a virus,” Quackity tried to explain. “I’m not sure what potions could help you heal faster since you’re a slime, so we’re just going to have to wait for you to recover naturally.”
“I am very much a human Quackity,” Slimecicle reminded him. “But I also do not know what potions I’m, uh, allergic to, so I’ll just drink this and go back to my moist hole of a home.”
Slimecicle finished his mug of water noisily, slurping up the last few drops. Quackity took the mug away from him, standing up. “Look, taking care of people isn’t really my forte…
“But you can stay here if you want. Sleep in my bed, read my books or whatever. I’ll bring you a thermos of water every hour or so, okay?” Quackity offered. “I’m just downstairs if you need anything. Just don’t drown yourself.”
Slimecicle frowned. “Not even a little bit?”
Quackity shook his head. “Please don’t.” Slimecicle frowned more, before Quackity added, “As my friend or whatever.”
Slimecicle smiled, his insides instantly feeling pleasant. “Okay, best friend Quackity from Las Nevadas!”
Quackity reached over and pet Slimecicle’s head roughly. “Thanks, Charlie.”
-
Slimecicle tries his best to resist the urge to throw himself into the fountain or pool all day, but it takes a lot of effort when the fountain was just a simple jump from the balcony away. His skin goes back to its normal smooth state after a few more mugs of warm water sipped slowly under Quackity’s watchful gaze. The itch in his throat continues, making him dry cough loud enough that Quackity messages him on his communicator to ask if he’s alright.
Still, he manages to nap between mugs of lemon water, tea, bread and cough drops. Despite being brought to Quackity’s room in the late morning, the moon is just peeking behind the Las Nevadas sign, visible through the window when Quackity gently shakes him awake.
“I made soup for us, come eat,” Quackity says. Slimecicle groans slightly, before falling into coughs for a moment. Quackity waits patiently, rubbing a soothing hand over his back.
Slimecicle let a pathetic whimper escape his mouth, feeling defenseless and tired. “I’m really sick,” he says simply.
Quackity smiles and helps him out of bed. “I know, Charlie. Come on.”
Quackity brought him to the elevator and down to his dining area. He brought out a chair and sat Slimecicle in front of a bowl of steaming soup. The soup was a weird brown liquid with bits of crushed plants. Slimecicle blinked owlishly at it before grinning at Quackity. “Oh, I love mud!”
“It’s not mud!” Quackity yelled back quickly, a red color coming to his cheeks. “It's dandelion-mushroom soup. I had to follow a recipe… But it's fine, just eat it, you’ll feel better. Look, I’m eating it too.”
Quackity gestured towards his own bowl. Slimecicle’s grin fell slightly but he picked up the spoon. They both ate quietly and quickly. Slimecicle enjoyed the soup, and started nibbling at the bowl, wondering if it would be wasteful to leave the bowl behind. He didn’t want to be a bad guest, after all.
Quackity pulled the bowl from his mouth, which definitely would have hurt if his teeth were made of real bone. “Charlie, if you're still hungry, there’s more soup in the kitchen.”
Slimecicle nodded and got up to serve himself more soup. He came back with the soup dribbling down the edges of the bowl, but Quackity didn’t complain about the mess it left on the table. Instead, he watched him eat, asking him how it tasted and how he was feeling.
After dinner, Quackity returned them to his room and made Slimecicle lay down in his bed again. He pulled a comforter over Slimecicle, who smiled and reached up to grab Quackity’s face and bring it close to his own for a kiss. Quackity resisted, pulling away.
“You’ll get me sick if you kiss me like this,” Quackity informed him.
“What? How?” Slimecicle asked, feeling shocked. “What am I supposed to do now?”
Quackity shrugged. “You don’t really need to kiss me in the first place, you barely know what it means anyways.”
Slimecicle shook his head, not loosening his hold on Quackity. “‘T means you like someone a lot, and they’re your favorite person, right? Or am I wrong?”
Quackity grimaced, his shoulders tensing up. “I… Yeah, you’re right.”
He looked at Slimecicle with a frown. “Am I your favorite person?”
Slimecicle nodded empathetically. “Yes, absolutely.”
Quackity looked away in thought for a moment before his shoulders dropped. He looked back at his friend. “Okay, you can kiss me. I mean, I probably won’t get sick. I have a strong immune system, I think.”
Slimecicle grinned and pressed his lips against Quackity’s. He pulled away to press another to Quackity’s cheek, and his other cheek and then his forehead. Quackity made a weak attempt to pull away, smiling in a way that made Slimecicle want to hold him closer. “You’re too excited about this,” Quackity teased.
“I like kissing you!” Slimecicle said, before pressing another kiss to his lips. Quackity smiled under his lips and then pressed his lips back into Slimecicle’s. They spent a few long moments like this, Slimecicle enjoying the plump softness of human lips and Quackity melting under the physical affection Slimecicle was willing to offer him. Quackity brought a knee onto the bed as Slimecicle rolled onto his back and pulled Quackity with him, continuing pressing kisses onto Quackity’s face.
“You’re so warm,” Slimecicle whispered. “Can you stay here?”
Quackity hummed and then nodded. He stood back up and pulled the comforter from Slimecicle’s body. He pressed himself against Slimecicle and wrapped an arm around him to pull him back into his chest. Slimecicle sighed, curling his back into the man. He fell asleep to Quackity’s soft breaths into his neck, a small comfortable human furnace at his back.
-
“There’s soup on the stove,” Quackity said gently. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here with you?”
Slimecicle shook his head from where he was sitting on Quackity’s bed, wrapped up in three blankets. “You have to finish your casino, Quackity from Las Nevadas.”
Quackity frowned at him, his hand reaching up hesitantly before it settled on the crown of Slimecicle’s head. “Well… okay, call me if you need me, okay? I don’t like leaving you here alone” he said gently.
“I’ll be okay,” Slimecicle tried smiling confidently, but his eyes closed as his smile widened. Quackity chuckled at him.
“Alright, get some sleep, Charlie” Quackity said, leaning forward to press a kiss to Slimecicle’s sweaty forehead. Slimecicle hummed in approval.
“Bring me some water in a bit?” Slimecicle asked, already half asleep.
“Of course, of course. See you in a bit.”
Slimecicle slowly laid down and quickly fell into deep dreamless sleep before the room door even closed.
-
After just a day, the two fell into a sort of schedule. Quackity would wake up, sneak out of bed, bring Slimecicle a cup of water and tea and maybe a bread for breakfast. Quackity watched him eat while sipping on coffee, making sure Slimecicle didn’t eat a wooden spoon or mug. Then, Slimecicle would insist on kissing Quackity before the man went to work on his country (“our Country,” Quackity corrected him once), leaving Slimecicle to rest or distract himself until the next time Quackity brought him snacks or took a break from work to chat. Night time involved a lot of Quackity dodging Slimecicle’s kisses until the slime man whined pitifully. They slept comfortably together, Slimecicle wrapped into Quackity’s arms as if Quackity were scared he’d disappear in the night.
Three days later, Slimecicle woke up properly, the itch in his throat now a distant sore that didn’t bother him anymore. The sun shone dimly through the balcony windows, just after daybreak. Slimecicle rubbed his eyes, and felt an arm tighten around his waist. Quackity was curled around his back, his forehead pressed against Slimecicle’s shoulder. Slimecicle smiled, turning his head to rub his nose into Quackity’s beanie and exposed hair fringe available just a little above his shoulder. Slimecicle felt Quackity’s quickly inhale and tighten his hand on Slimecicle’s body, the man waking up and tensing in a single moment.
Slimescicle hummed apologetically. Quackity tension continued for a moment before he relaxed again. He shook his head against Slimecicle’s back.
“Morning, Charlie,” he said gruffly. Slimecicle smiled, wanting to twist around to look at Quackity, but also not wanting to disturb Quackity’s comfortable perch against his shoulder. He reached up to cover Quackity’s wrist on his waist instead.
“Morning, Quackity from Las Nevadas,” he said cheerfully.
Quackity leaned forward and rubbed his eyes against his shoulder. “You feeling better?”
Slimecicle nodded. “I think I’m cured!”
Quackity hummed neutrally. “That’s good.”
Quackity pulled his hand from Slimecicle’s grasp and away from his waist. Slimescicle took that as permission to turn around to face him.
Quackity looked at him sleepily, his eyes still half closed, his face clear of any of its usual forced aggressiveness. Slimecicle smiled at him. “You look sleepy,” he pointed out.
Quackity blinked at him and blew out a short amused noise. “Just woke up, give me a second.”
“We can go back to sleep if you want,” Slimecicle offered. Quackity’s expression turned confused before shaking his head.
“If you're not sick you don’t have to stay here anymore,” Quackity said simply. He closed his eyes and snuggled into his pillow.
Slimecicle blinked at him curiously. “Can I stay here until breakfast?”
Quackity smiled, his eyes still closed. “I’m starting to think you're using me for food, Charlie.”
“No… well maybe a little!”
Quackity’s smile widened and he turned to bury a soft laugh into his pillow. Slimecicle’s heartbeat excitedly. He leaned forward to hug Quackity, his turn now to hide his face against his best friend that he cared so much about, especially when he didn’t know what else to do with the feeling in his chest. Quackity’s arm wrapped him automatically, rubbing his back gently.
“Okay, let me sleep a little longer before breakfast, okay? Just a few minutes.” Slimecicle nodded, looking up from Quackity’s chest to see Quackity already peering down at him. Slimecicle nodded, leaned up and pressed a kiss against Quackity’s lips. He returned to his spot, hugging Quackity comfortably, his cheek pressed against Quackity’s heart.
He heard Quackity sigh gently above him before he got comfortable, leaning into Slimecicle’s green hair. His breathing continued normally before eventually evening out and slowing as he fell asleep. Slimecicle listened to him sleep, his heartbeats eventually lulling him back into a comfortable slumber.