RocketSlime, DragonWarrior and all characters attached to it belong to Square Enix
The concept of turning them all into people belongs to me :)

Note: Hello and welcome to this fic. First off, I'd like to begin by saying that as of today, the day i post this, this fic is on extended hiatus, and is only being posted because I was requested to do so. Moreover, I believe I'll be taking it down after it serves its purpose. Now without any further delay I give you the fic:
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Slival eventually got used to waking up whenever he chose. To waking up in a bed—which although wasn't his, was a welcome change. And to waking up in a room that had heat, and windows, and carpet and no bugs. He eventually got used to being served three square meals a day, with snacks in between if he so chose. To being greeted when he walked into a room with a pleasant 'hello' or 'good morning', and to being treated like a genuine friend and family member, rather than an expendable force to be flung at opponents without a second thought to it. And while Slival eventually got used to the usual aspects of small-town life, the one thing that continued to trip him up was the very person who brought him into such a life to begin with.

Amid his thought, Slival decided he'd let his guard down, which was why, in turn, he'd been flung into such a position that he was presently in. He was unsure of what had just happened, however the fact remained that he was flat on his back on the floor, and Rocket was leaning over the bedside to look down on him. The latter being the rightful owner of said bed. But just because it was his didn't mean Rocket was going to hog it all to himself, and in an act of utter selflessness, had given it to Slival until his parents could raise the money to have another ordered. Rocket had made a nest for himself with a beanbag chair and a few extra blankets, and it was where he slept at night. Quite contentedly at that.

Rocket laughed,

"I thought you'd dodge or something," he said, "I'm sorry, you okay?"

Slival took a moment to heave a sigh, then another to evaluate his situation (that being tangled up hopelessly in the blanket), and then a last to meet Rocket's gaze. His response came barely audible,

"Fine."

He could hear already, the others in the kitchen below. The usual sounds of Ma making breakfast, and Pa shuffling about to fill his cup with coffee or to fetch the paper from the front step. Little Bo, with her plate of oatmeal and her daily tradition of the spoon on bowl symphony. And of course Hooly, whose parents worked in the city and left him in the care of their neighbors while they were gone, who assisted Bo, daily with her symphony, adding a terrible, off-key vocal that never failed to sink the younger girl into a giggle fit. The morning routine as usual.

"Ma told me to come wake you up," Rocket was saying, "She says breakfast is almost ready and to hurry up or Hooly and me are going to eat it all."

Rocket was still in his pajamas. And without a doubt, everyone else downstairs was as well. If nothing else, the fact that Slival was allowed to walk around the house all day in a rumpled tshirt and shorts, continually perplexed and amused him both. He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and regarded Rocket silently. And he guessed it was the silence that prompted a frown out of the other boy.

"You seem down." He said simply. After receiving a shrug he continued, "What's the trouble? Nightmares again?" another shrug, "Did you sleep at all last night?" A nod. "You sick?" a shrug again, "How bout the cuts?" shrug. "You seem to be very undecided." He was answered with a heavy sigh. Slival turned his gaze away from Rocket and looked down on his arms which sustained several bandages which nursed the slowly healing cuts and scrapes and things he'd gotten product of a Tank Battle gone horribly wrong. For a moment he wondered if it hadn't been for that particular battle, if he would still be with the Plob, being treated like a slave no less.

Rocket dropped down on the floor next to his friend, laying a hand on his shoulder and offering him a knowing smile when he had gotten his attention,

"It's okay now, Sivs," he said gently, "You and I screwed the Plob way over, everything is alright now." Slival nodded softly and slowly exhaled. Rocket continued, "And moreover, if they ever decide to come back, you and I will mess em up again, right?" accompanying the question was a small, playful shove,

"Mmhm."

Rocket's smile returned and he spoke again,

"And, if I may say so, me and you make a pretty darn good team."

"Mmhm."

"Best in the entire world, I bet."

"Mmmmhm."

"But I'm the better out of the both of us, hands down." The comment gained him Slival's immediate attention,

"Oh really."

Rocket's smile broadened into a grin,

"Yes really," he said, "If you were the better, I wouldn't be able to do this!" so speaking Rocket tackled his friend over, and pinned his one wrist behind his back. Slival offered minimal struggle before resorting to pained noises,

"Alright, alright! You win, get off!"

Rocket chuckled and relinquished his hold on his friend and clambered back to his feet to sit on his bed, his expression smug. He watched Slival right himself and massage the stiffness out of his arm again.

"That was a dirty trick." He said after a moment. Rocket grinned back,

"Darn right it was." He said, "I sure can't get the better of you playing fair."

From downstairs, Ma's voice came a bit muffled through the usual kitchen noises,

"Boys, you'd better hurry and get down here or else there won't be any breakfast left!"

Rocket looked up and met his friend's eyes,

"Shall we?" he asked, getting to his feet to bow deeply, allowing Slival to be first. Much to his surprise, he took the chance (without a gesture to match or some sarcastic comment like 'ladies first'), and took off down the hall, calling back over his shoulder,

"Last one down is a rotten egg."