Hermitcraft Stuff I Guess

Sir (oneshot)

Ship: RenDoc
TW: Food
AU: Ghost/Servant
Around 2200 words

Doc groaned. Being dead isn't nearly as fun as they make it out to be. Waiting day after day for someone to move in to a stupid, old house was the worst experience imaginable. It was even worse than dying. Flying around was cool, but the novelty wears off quickly. He can't eat anything, he can't touch anything, he's just a floating form of sentience. He was being punished. He died and this was his punishment. Sitting around for the rest of this house's existence. He could have chosen to be dead forever, but some irrational part in his mind said he still had a chance to save himself, so he was stuck sitting in a bland house until some crazy person moved in, but that wouldn't be ideal either. If someone were to move in, then Doc would need to become a servant for them. Every wish they had would need to be fulfilled, or else he would be forever dead and every memory of him would be erased instantly. What a mistake.

Ren was fresh out of college and needed a place to live. He had struggled throughout the entire thing, but he finally graduated with a masters in animal science. The man had been searching everywhere for a home, but all of the places were either too expensive or not in the area he wanted. It took weeks and weeks until he finally found an aged home. It was a bit worse for wear, but at least he could afford it. After a week of discussing details, he paid the initial amount needed and moved in.

For the first time, he stepped in the tall home. The interior looked washed out from a thin layer of dust that clung to every surface and there was hardly any furniture that didn't peel paint. It was definitely a fixer-upper to say the least. The pictures online made it seem a lot nicer than it actually was. Everything was so dirty, footprints trailed behind Ren as he walked to his bedroom. When he opened the door, he could see the cloud of dust particles that flew into the air and hit the light, reflecting it into an abnormal shape. Actually, it was weirdly human like. Ren let out a shriek and fell to the floor when he realized it really was a person.

"Are you my realtor?" The person let their stern expression falter as they gave a light chuckle.

"No, I am your servant." Ren seemed more scared than when the person appeared.

"Oh! No no no! I can't afford a servant right now. Thanks for the offer, I guess."

"No need to worry, price won't be an issue. It's a free service for the rest of your life."

"What? Why? You need money to live and stuff."

"Well, I am paid in existence. I get to be alive because you moved in here, it was a deal made when I died." They walked over and pulled up the shaken man, hiding their fear well. "My name is Doc and I am your servant."

"I'm Ren, I use he/him pronouns. You?"

"He/him as well. What tasks would you like me to start with, sir?"

"Maybe you could help me carry in my boxes." Doc was baffled.

"Just boxes? You do know that I can clean the entire house or make you a full meal if you ask, sir."

"I don't want to put you through so much work, even if it is your job. I appreciate the enthusiasm, though." He didn't know how to respond. Why was this short man so friendly? He tried not to let it get in his head so he walked out of the building for the first time in years.

The sun was brighter than he remembered and he had to shield it with his hand. Ren strutted out behind him and slid the sunglasses on his head over his eyes. Doc couldn't help but notice his hands and how the long nails flowed through his chestnut brown hair. The black polish made a nice contrast against the tan boxes he lifted.