for my nullified gamers: good news! updates are coming! but first, i am obsessed with Caden
also this is still not a ship fic, men can show platonic affection & I have a gun
"Steven, sit down, you're going to hurt yourself."
"Or, instead of you lazing about, you could help me?" Steven shot over a glare from where he was washing a window, wiping off his forehead on his sleeve. "If you're so concerned."
"Hey, it's not my apartment." Brine deflected, reclining on the couch where he was watching TV. "I'm just a freeloader."
"Yeah, I can see that." Steven leaned back, wincing as his back popped. "Can you turn that down? Caden's sleeping." His gaze shifted to his closed bedroom door, into which he had herded Caden early that morning after watching him stumble around for half an hour.
Having two uninvited guests in his apartment had made Steven finally realize how dingy the place had become, and he had resolved to spend the morning cleaning it up. Brine, after cooking breakfast, had evidently decided that his work for the day was finished and sprawled out on the couch to laze around for the rest of the morning.
"Fine." Brine flailed for the remote for a moment before getting ahold of it, turning down the volume by a few points. "In all seriousness, you should take a break."
"I'm fine." Steven coughed into his sleeve, shooting a Brine a glare when he made an I-told-you-so face. "There's just a lot of dust." Brine rolled his eyes and turned back to the TV.
Having a third person in the house was definitely… odd. Caden, despite his initial aggression, had become incredibly meek at the first sign of kindness, and even more quiet when Steven invited him to stay. Steve really hoped that was a good sign. Brine had confiscated the boy's knife, so Steve doubted he could do any harm, but he still hoped that Brine hadn't been right about Caden lashing out from fear or desperation. The entire situation honestly reminded him of trying to rehabilitate a stray cat.
"Sit down, Stonewall." Came Brine's voice as Steven coughed again.
"I'm fine." Steve straightened up, moving on to the next window. "Why are you so crabby this morning, anyway?" Herobrine snorted.
"'Crabby'?"
"That's the perfect word for you, yes."
"I'm not, I'm just looking out for you." Brine crossed his arms. "Though I do wonder why you clean the house for Caden, but not me."
"Well, for one, I invited him to stay." Steven pointed out. "You invited yourself."
"He broke in."
"So did you!"
Brine paused, nodded. "Fair point. But I didn't try to rob you."
"You did make the decision to stay with no input from me."
"Yes, well, you needed it."
Steven straightened up, fixing his roommate with a suspicious look. "Herobrine, are you jealous?"
"What? No."
"You are!" Steven barked a laugh, setting down his washrag. "You're jealous that I have more friends than you, now." Brine scoffed.
"If I did help you clean, would it stop you from making these baseless accusations?"
"'Baseless' my foot." Steven shot back. "But, yes, if you helped I would refrain from telling you the t-" His chest suddenly constricted, and he doubled over, coughing harshly into his sleeve as he tried to catch his breath.
By the time his coughing subsided, an arm was snaking around his waist, and Brine was dragging him over to sit on the cough. Steven sagged down where he was placed, muffling his coughs into his sleeve.
"Stay." Brine told him sternly. "Do you have medicine for that?" Steven took a slow, careful breath to avoid setting off another coughing fit.
"In th' kitchen cabinet. My inhaler."
Brine nodded, standing and heading for the kitchen. Steven pressed an arm over his chest, grimacing at the burning in his lungs.
After a moment, Brine returned with the medicine, and Steven nodded in thanks before taking a puff of his inhaler. Brine watched him carefully as he held his breath, then slowly let it out.
"Stop looking at me like that." Steve told him, feeling his breath wheeze a bit in his lungs.
"Like what?"
"Nevermind." He was, of course, referring to the I-told-you-so look that had returned to Brine's face. Taking another puff, Steven capped his medicine again and handed it back to Brine, sinking back in the couch to let his lungs recover.
"Well," Brine said as he returned from the kitchen, scooping up the cleaning supplies that had been abandoned on the floor. "Shame to leave a job unfinished." Steven coughed.
"So all I had to do to get your help was have an asthma attack?"
"Maybe." Brine eyed him suspiciously. "But I'll remember that you made that connection." Steven scoffed lightly, but didn't respond, idly watching as Brine tidied up the room. His house wasn't that dirty - he didn't have all that many possessions to clean. But it certainly looked better once the job was finished.
As Brine put away the cleaning supplies, Steven stood, intending to make his way to the kitchen and wash the breakfast dishes.
"Nope!" Brine dashed to his side, pinning him down on the couch again. "Sit."
"I'm fine." Steven protested. "The medicine's kicked in, I was just gonna get the dish-"
"I'll take care of it, you sit down." Brine fixed him with a scowl.
Steven gave up. "Fine."
Instead of going to the kitchen, however, Brine sat down next to him, tuning back in to the TV. Steven eyed him, starting to shift away, but an arm wrapping around his waist kept him still. Giving up, Steven accepted his fate and focused on the inane sitcom blaring from his TV.
Herobrine woke up to the floorboards creaking.
His blank eyes eased open, focusing on the dark ceiling above him. Steve's living room was lit only by the light of streetlights that peeped through the windows, shrouding the furnishings in darkness. Even so, Herobrine could tell that the recliner that had previously held Caden was unoccupied.
Brine rolled slowly onto his side, analyzing the dimmed room with narrowed eyes. Caden had slept a lot during the day, so it was quite possible that he was just no longer tired, but Herobrine's intuition told him otherwise. There was no reason for him to be creeping around at… what was it? Likely past midnight.
Steven's door was still closed, fortunately, which meant his host was safe and sleeping. Though, surely the boy was too cowed to try anything. Brine could see it by the way the kid looked at him - he knew who he was. Caden knew he shared a living space with a wanted killer. Maybe he was trying to sneak out, get away while they slept. Would he give up a warm place to sleep and unlimited food? Most people would, if they thought their life was in danger.
A small click came from the kitchen, and Brine stiffened. Why the kitchen? There was no way out, so he wasn't running - unless he was stealing food, a last meal before he did so. On the other hand, the kitchen also housed knives, a decent weapon even in untrained hands. Caden could easily take one and slaughter them both in their sleep. If Brine hadn't woken up, of course.
Shifting, Brine eased himself up from the couch, moving soundlessly towards the kitchen. He heard a small clatter as he approached, positioning himself just behind the divider wall. He paused, then, with one step, moved within reach of the light switch and flicked it on.
There was a small crash as he did so, as Caden dropped the box of cereal in his hands and sent it scattering all over the floor. Herobrine blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light, and found Caden flinching against the counter, one hand gripping the edge of it as the other shielded his eyes from the light. When his eyes adjusted enough for him to see who had caught him, his eyes widened with horror, lips parting a bit as he tried to mouth an apology.
Brine's gaze dropped to the floor, now covered in cereal, and he sighed, stepping forward to fetch the broom from where it leaned against the wall in the corner of the kitchen. The moment he moved, however, Caden cowered, eyes squeezing shut as he shrank against the cabinets. Brine stopped. Processed the situation.
"Sit down." He said at last, gesturing to the kitchen table. "I won't hurt you." Caden's eyes cracked open, peeking up at him as if to gauge the sincerity of his words, before he hurried soundlessly to the table and parked himself in a chair. Brine was well aware of the teen's eyes on him as he collected the broom and swept up the mess he'd made.
Only once he was finished, and had returned the broom to the corner, did Brine meet his gaze. "Hungry?" He asked bluntly. Caden gave a small nod. Brine stepped over to the fridge, pulling out a container of leftovers, then grabbing a saucepan to heat it in.
Neither of them spoke as Brine heated up the leftover stir-fry. Caden was clearly embarrassed about being caught, but there was more to it than that. His behavior was all too familiar to Brine who had, long ago, known another boy that hadn't been allowed to eat outside of mealtimes.
Only once he'd set Caden's food before him did Brine begin to speak.
"How long ago did you run away?" He asked. Caden fidgeted with his fork, unable to resist taking a small bite before replying.
"Almost two weeks."
"Two weeks." Brine echoed. "And how long have you not had enough to eat?" Caden's gaze shot back up, now filled with dread. Looking away, Brine sat down opposite him, trying to make the interaction feel less like an interrogation. "You're allowed to eat, here." He added, more quietly. "As much as you want. Okay?" Two weeks on the street would cause anyone to lose weight, yes, but Brine could recognize the signs of prolonged starvation anywhere.
Caden squared his shoulders, giving a little nod. "I-" He cleared his throat. "Didn't have much food at home. I ate at school and that's it." Brine waited for a few moments before asking,
"Why?"
"Dad usually ate out." Caden pushed his food in a circle on his plate. "We never had food at home. And I didn't have any money."
"Does your father work?"
"No, he was on unemployment." Caden scoffed quietly. "Got more money because he had a kid."
"Hmm." Brine was quiet for a few moments, watching him eat. It sounded like this had been going on for a long time. Surely this alone wouldn't be cause to run away, especially if it was something he'd grown used to. "Does anyone else know that you weren't being fed?" The boy's shoulders slumped.
"I told a school counselor." He mumbled. Brine waited for him to go on, but he didn't.
"And?"
"And he talked to my dad." Caden fell silent again, and Brine wondered if it would be wise to prompt him to go further. As it turned out, he didn't need to, as the boy finally said "And my dad told me to stop being a f###### p####." He shrugged, stabbing a piece of bell pepper with his fork. "And pointed a gun at me."
"Ah." A familiar buzz was beginning to sound in Brine's head, and he willed it to leave him alone. Going ballistic on this man wouldn't help anyone.
Brine was quiet for a few more minutes, waiting as Caden cleaned his plate. Finally, he spoke again. "Did your father ever hurt you?"
Caden froze, halfway to setting his fork down on his plate, and his averted gaze was all the answer Brine needed. The vigilante sighed, resting his chin in his hand and drumming his fingers on the table with the other. What a situation this boy was in.
"…um once." Caden mumbled at last. "That's why I ran away."
"Mm." Brine stood, pacing across the kitchen to set the dishes in the sink.
As he ran water over them, Caden spoke in a small voice. "You're… Herobrine, right?" Brine paused, glancing at him.
"I am."
"Why…" Caden traced a line on the table, not looking at him. "Why… are you here? Why… is Steven a friend of yours?"
"You could say that." Brine washed his hands. "I hate to give out my secret so freely, but the media coverage of me is wrong." He turned around, leaning back against the counter with a smirk. "I'm not a serial killer." Caden blinked up at him.
"Could've fooled me."
"Now, I am a killer," Brine held up one finger. "That much is true. But I prey not on innocents, but on predators. I kill those who should have been arrested and dealt with accordingly, but have escaped this fate one way another, whether by avoiding being caught or by leveraging political influence." Caden blinked, and Brine summarized, "I only kill bad guys."
"That's…" A tiny smile appeared on Caden's face, though he struggled to tamp it down. "So you're a vigilante." Brine dipped his chin in a nod.
"Exactly."
"And… Steve knows?" Caden glanced at the entryway into the living room at the dark room beyond.
"He does." Brine nodded again. "I was once caught and locked up, but I was wounded in the process. Now, I have a very rare blood type." Brine tapped his wrist. "And no matching blood was available. However, Steven also has a very rare blood type, one that can mesh seamlessly with any other on the planet. So… they brought him in to save me." Caden's gaze went from him to the entryway again.
"And how did that… end up with you living with him?"
"Well, they'd drugged me up considerably, and I ended up spilling somewhat of my life story to him." Brine admitted. "I only know because they had a video of it at my trial." That was something. He pushed the memory away. "But, when I escaped, I came here to hide out, and he never kicked me out. Currently, I'm in town waiting for communication from a contact of mine."
"Oh."
"Besides, Steven apparently needs a bodyguard." Brine went on. "As I've had to scrape him off the sidewalk at least once." Caden blinked. "His blood type makes him rather valuable," Brine added. "It's where he gets all of his income."
"Oh." Caden seemed a little lost. Drying his hands, Brine approached him again, pleased to find that the teen no longer flinched away.
"You should go back to sleep." He urged him out of the chair, and Caden stood, allowing himself to be herded back towards the living room. Brine allowed the teen to reach his makeshift bed before turning out the kitchen light, quietly heading back to the couch as Caden made himself comfortable.
"Herobrine?" The sound of his name had him looking up.
"Yes?"
"…are you gonna kill my dad?" Caden asked softly. His tone made it clear he didn't want him to.
Brine sighed. "No." He refuted. "But I will help you." He fixed the boy with a glare, though he doubted he could see it in the darkness. "Which doesn't mean hiding in this apartment forever."
"I-I know." A shuffle from the chair. "…thank you." Brine's little smirk turned into a genuine smile.
"You're welcome."