Overworked

The rhythmic tink-tink-tink of a hammer against redstone components was the only sound echoing through the cavernous workshop, save for the distant, muffled roar of a gathering storm. Jude, his bunny-eared hood pulled low over his messy hair, didn’t even flinch when a particularly loud crack of thunder vibrated the stone floor. His eyes were bloodshot, framed by dark circles that looked like bruises against his pale skin.

Sharpness leaned against the obsidian doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. He’d been standing there for ten minutes. Jude hadn't noticed him once. The PVP specialist was used to high-intensity situations, but watching Jude work himself into an early grave was a different kind of stress.

"Jude," Sharpness said, his voice dropping into that low, authoritative tone he used when he was commanding a battlefield. "Bed. Now."

Jude’s hand didn't stop moving. He was currently soldering a delicate wire to a tripwire hook, his fingers trembling slightly from caffeine and exhaustion. "In a minute, Sharp. I just need to calibrate the delay on the arrow dispensers. If the timing is off by even a tick, the whole trap is useless."

"You said that three hours ago," Sharpness countered, stepping into the room. The air smelled of ozone and cold stone. "And four hours before that. Parker’s been gone for weeks, Jude. The base isn't going to crumble if you take eight hours to close your eyes."

Jude finally looked up, his movements jerky. The blue and purple hues of his skin—reminiscent of a certain mechanical rabbit—seemed duller under the flickering redstone torches. He gave a sharp, mocking laugh that sounded more like a dry rasp. "Oh, look at you. The big, scary warrior is worried about my beauty sleep? Don't you have a sword to polish or a child to terrorize?"

Sharpness didn't bite. He just stepped closer, looming over the workbench. "I’m serious. You’re shaking. You haven't eaten anything but golden carrots and adrenaline for three days."

"I'm fine," Jude snapped, turning back to his work. "Go away, Sharp. Let the genius work. I’ll go to bed when the perimeter is secure."

"The perimeter is secure. I checked it myself."

"You checked for players," Jude muttered, his voice trailing off as he squinted at a piece of dust on his redstone dust trail. "You didn't check for the flaws in the logic gates. Logic doesn't sleep, Sharpness. Neither do I."

Sharpness opened his mouth to argue, but the world outside decided to intervene. A violent gust of wind slammed against the heavy iron doors of the base, followed by the deafening sound of a lightning strike so close the lights flickered.

Jude cursed, jumping as the sudden surge of energy fried the circuit he’d been working on. "No! No, no, no! That was the last of the refined quartz!"

Before Sharpness could grab him, Jude was out the door, sprinting toward the external testing grounds. He’d left a prototype trap exposed to the elements, and in his sleep-deprived delirium, saving a handful of pistons seemed more important than his own life.

"Jude! Get back here, you idiot!" Sharpness yelled, drawing his sword out of habit as he bolted after him.

The storm was a wall of freezing rain and howling wind. It was the kind of weather that felt like it was trying to peel the skin off your bones. Sharpness squinted through the deluge, spotting the rabbit-eared silhouette fumbling with a lever near a muddy trench.

"Jude, leave it!" Sharpness roared over the thunder.

Jude didn't listen. He reached for a submerged redstone torch, his foot slipping on the slick grass. He went down hard, sliding into the muddy trench. The cold water hit him like a physical blow, shocking the last of his frantic energy out of him.

Sharpness was there in seconds. He didn't say a word as he reached down, grabbing Jude by the back of his hoodie and hauling him out of the mud like a drowned cat. Jude didn't even fight back; he just shivered violently, his teeth chattering so hard it sounded like a jackhammer.

"I... I almost had it..." Jude whispered, his voice cracking.

"Shut up," Sharpness muttered, throwing Jude’s arm over his shoulder and practically carrying him back toward the safety of the stone walls.

---

The next morning, the storm had passed, leaving behind a crisp, silent world. Inside the base, however, the silence was broken by a miserable, wet cough.

Jude sat at his workbench, wrapped in three different blankets, trying to focus on a blueprint. His head felt like it had been stuffed with wet wool, and every time he swallowed, it felt like he was gargling glass.

"You look like death," a voice rumbled from the doorway.

Jude tried to glare at Sharpness, but it lost its impact when he had to pause to rub his throbbing temples. "Good morning to you too. Go away."

Sharpness walked in, carrying a wooden bowl that smelled suspiciously of mushroom stew. He set it down directly on top of Jude’s blueprints.

"Hey! That’s the schematics for the pitfall!" Jude croaked, his voice barely a whisper.

"It’s a coaster now," Sharpness said firmly. "Eat. Then go back to the couch."

"I have work to do," Jude insisted, reaching for his wrench. His hand shook so badly he dropped it, the heavy tool clattering loudly on the floor. The sound echoed in his head like a cannon blast, and he winced, closing his eyes tight.

Sharpness sighed, picking up the wrench and placing it on a high shelf where Jude couldn't reach it without standing up—something Jude clearly wasn't capable of doing right now. "You have a fever, Jude. You’re sick. You dragged yourself through a freezing swamp in the middle of a thunderstorm because you were too stubborn to listen to me."

"I'm not sick," Jude lied, followed immediately by a rough, dry cough that made him wince. "I'm just... acclimating to the humidity."

Sharpness moved closer, placing a hand on Jude’s forehead. Jude tried to flinch away, but he was too slow.

"You're burning up," Sharpness noted, his brow furrowing. "And you're pale. Well, paler than usual."

"It's the aesthetic," Jude wheezed, trying to muster a smirk. "The 'haunted animatronic' look is very in this season."

"The 'dead trapper' look isn't," Sharpness countered. He grabbed Jude by the shoulders and forced him to stand.

Jude stumbled, his knees buckling. "Whoa. Since when did the floor start moving?"

"The floor is fine. Your inner ear is probably filled with swamp water," Sharpness said, catching him before he could face-plant into the redstone dust.

He led Jude over to the makeshift living area—a corner of the base that Parker had insisted on decorating with actual furniture instead of just chests and furnaces. He pushed Jude down onto the sofa and piled the blankets back over him.

"Stay," Sharpness commanded.

"I'm not a dog," Jude grumbled, though he leaned back into the cushions with a sigh of relief he couldn't quite hide. "And I really do need to finish that trap. If someone raids us while Parker is gone—"

"If someone raids us, I will kill them," Sharpness interrupted, his voice flat and certain. "That is literally my only job. Your job is to make sure the base doesn't kill us by accident. And right now, you’re more of a hazard to yourself than any raider could be."

Jude opened his mouth to argue, but a sharp pain in his throat cut him off. He settled for a pathetic-looking pout. "I hate being allied with you. You're bossy."

"And you're a disaster," Sharpness said, handing him the bowl of stew. "Eat. All of it."

Jude took a sip, the warmth of the broth soothing his raw throat. He hated to admit it, but the food made him feel slightly less like he was fading out of existence. He watched Sharpness out of the corner of his eye. The warrior was pacing the room, checking the windows, his hand never far from the hilt of his sword.

"You're bored," Jude croaked.

Sharpness stopped pacing. "I'm not bored. I'm on guard."

"You're bored because there's no one to fight and I'm too pathetic to even banter with," Jude said, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips. "Go find a zombie to hit or something."

Sharpness looked at him, his expression softening just a fraction. "I’m not leaving you alone to drown in your own snot, Jude. Parker would have my head if I let his partner die of a common cold."

"He'd probably just laugh and steal my stuff," Jude muttered, though there was no real heat in it.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the crackle of the fireplace Sharpness had started. The warmth was making Jude drowsy, the heavy fog in his brain finally winning the battle against his stubbornness.

"Sharp?" Jude whispered, his eyes drifting shut.

"Yeah?"

"Don't touch the blue wires on the workbench. They're... they're live."

"I know, Jude. Sleep."

"And... thanks. For dragging me out of the mud."

Sharpness didn't respond immediately. He waited until Jude’s breathing became deep and rhythmic, the rabbit-eared hood falling back to reveal the messy hair of a man who had finally given up the ghost.

"Don't make it a habit," Sharpness quieted his voice, pulling the blanket up to Jude’s chin.

He sat in the chair opposite the sofa, drawing his diamond sword and resting it across his lap. He wasn't much for building traps or complicated redstone, but he knew how to protect what was his. And for now, that included a stubborn, sick rabbit who didn't know when to quit.

Outside, the wind began to pick up again, whistling through the cracks in the stone. But inside, the base was warm, the traps were set, and for the first time in weeks, the genius was finally getting some rest.

Sharpness watched the door, his eyes sharp and alert. He’d stay there as long as it took. After all, what were allies for if not to pull you out of the mud when you were too stupid to do it yourself?

Hours passed in a blur of shadows and firelight. Sharpness found himself nodding off once or twice, his head snapping up at every creak of the base’s structure. He wasn't used to this kind of stillness. Usually, his days were filled with the clash of steel and the rush of the hunt. This—playing nursemaid to a delirious trapper—was a different kind of challenge.

Around midnight, Jude started tossing and turning, a low moan escaping his throat.

"Water..." he rasped, his eyes fluttering open but not quite seeing.

Sharpness was up in an instant, fetching a glass from the small kitchen area. He sat on the edge of the sofa, propping Jude’s head up with one hand while holding the glass to his lips with the other.

"Slowly," Sharpness cautioned.

Jude drank greedily, some of the water spilling down his chin. When he finished, he slumped back against Sharpness’s arm, his skin clammy.

"Sharp?" Jude’s voice was clearer now, though still weak.

"I'm here."

"The base... is it safe?"

Sharpness looked around at the dark, reinforced walls, the hidden dispensers, and the lethal pressure plates he knew littered the hallways. Then he looked at the boy in the bunny hoodie, who looked far too small for the reputation he carried.

"It's the safest place on the server," Sharpness promised. "Now go back to sleep, or I'm telling Parker you cried when I gave you the stew."

Jude gave a weak, indignant huff. "I did not cry. It was... it was the steam."

"Sure it was. Go to sleep, Jude."

Jude closed his eyes, his hand unconsciously catching the edge of Sharpness’s cloak. He didn't let go, and for once, Sharpness didn't pull away.

The storm outside eventually died down to a drizzle, the harsh edges of the world softening into the gray light of dawn. Sharpness remained in the chair, a silent sentinel in the heart of the machine. The traps were silent, the swords were sheathed, and for one night, the Strength SMP was quiet.

When Parker eventually returned a few days later, he would find Jude back at his workbench, still coughing occasionally but with a renewed fire in his eyes. He would find Sharpness leaning against the wall, looking exhausted but satisfied.

And if Parker noticed that the two of them were actually talking instead of trading insults, he was smart enough not to mention it. Some things were better left in the quiet of the storm.