Minecraft Oneshots

Kale - A "Hunted Blood" continuation pt. 3

Steven shouldered through the front door of his apartment, made his way down the hall, and walked past Herobrine into the kitchen, setting down his armful of grocery bags on the table. His imposing roommate followed him in, scrutinizing his purchases as Steven rubbed at his aching arms.

"That's all?" He asked. "This won't last us more than a couple days."

"How??" Steven threw his hands up in the air. "And you try carrying another four bags while riding public transport!"

"Don't you have a car?"

"I've never needed one."

"You could get one anyway!"

"I never learned to drive! It wouldn't be much use."

"You could hire a chauffeur! Land sakes, man." Herobrine pulled a bundle of kale out of one of the bags, giving it a decisive nod.

"Waste of money when I can take a bus." Steven sank down in a kitchen chair. "Just because I can spend a lot of money doesn't mean I should. How are we going to eat all that in two days, anyway?"

"It'll go a lot quicker once you start eating correctly." Herobrine started to unload the groceries, putting them away in the proper places - chicken, beef, Greek yogurt, greens, and spices. Steven had been sent with a very specific list to his local grocery store, which he'd tried his best to follow. "Did you not get almonds?" Brine asked, peering in the bags. Steven paused, then groaned.

"I knew I was forgetting something."

"I gave you a list." Brine scolded. "But, it's alright. We can do without." He continued putting things away. Steven watched him idly.

"You're very... enthusiastic about this." He commented.

"I don't get to cook for people often." Was Brine's response from halfway inside the fridge. "I consider it a privilege." Steven blinked, a bit stunned. It felt... nice to have someone do something for him.

"Have you ever considered getting a service dog?" Brine was asking. "I hear they have varieties that tell you when you're about to faint."

"It's not enough of a problem for me that I would look into it." Steve shrugged. "Plus, I'm allergic."

"What about a cat?"

"A service cat?" Steve raised a brow.

"No, just a cat." Brine shook his head. "Keep you company." Steven paused, considering this.

"Well, I'm not allergic to cats, so... maybe. I just worry I wouldn't be able to clean up after it."

"Hire some housekeeping then, you're rich." Brine stood up straight, closing the fridge door. "To be honest, I respect your frugality, but I think you're going too far."

"What do you mean?" Steven stood, reaching for a jar of spices to put it away in his cupboard, but Brine got to it first.

"I mean, many in your position would be spending carelessly, it's true." Brine set the jar on the counter where he was collecting them. "But you're practically pinching pennies. You live in a dingy apartment, you don't own a car and take the bus, and you're living off of ramen noodles and peanut butter and jelly." Steven didn't respond for a moment, a bit stunned.

"This place isn't dingy." He protested after a moment.

"It isn't?" Brine glanced around the room. "I suppose it probably would look nicer if you knew how to decorate."

"You're so rude for an uninvited guest."

"Personal chef!" Brine brandished a spatula at him, grinning. "I apologize. Either way, you ignore my point."

"It's true, I don't spend a lot of money." Steve allowed, looking around his kitchen. Herobrine was right in that it was very bare. "But I travel enough that I don't spend a lot of time here, so I see no reason to spruce it up."

"Wouldn't it be nice to have a nice place to come home to?" Herobrine countered. "And surely food is worth it."

"I spend a lot of money eating out while traveling." Steven patted his stomach. "Which is a lot of calories, so... not eating when I'm at home keeps me from putting on weight." He grinned, but Brine's smile vanished.

"...you starve yourself at home?"

"No, no." Steve assured him hastily. "No, it was a joke. I eat." Herobrine frowned, looking away.

"Not a very funny one."

"Sorry." Steven rubbed the back of his head. "I guess I don't have a choice on whether I eat well now, huh?"

"You bet you don't." Brine pulled a mixing bowl out of the cabinet, beginning to combine ingredients together in it. "So how much money are you saving by living so... thriftily?"

"Quite a bit." Steve admitted, wondering momentarily if it was wise to reveal his net worth to the serial killer taking residence in his apartment. "I have more than a million saved so far." Brine turned around to face him, brows hiked up.

"What for?" He asked. "Retirement?"

"I don't know if I'm going to retire." Steve shrugged. "It's just.. emergency funds." Brine frowned, turning back to his bowl.

"Not going to retire?" He echoed. "Why not?"

"Well, I don't really work, so..." Steve played with the cuff of his sleeve. "I don't see any reason to retire. As long as I'm being a leech on society, I may as well continue to do what little I can."

"Leech??" Brine echoed incredulously, now coating the raw chicken in the marinade he'd created. "Stonewall, what on earth are you going on about?"

"I don't work, I don't contribute, I just make money because I happen to be lucky with my genetics." Steve shrugged weakly. "I want to get a job so I can at least feel like I've earned it, but my schedule doesn't-"

"Don't contribute other than life saving blood??" Herobrine interrupted. "Oh, don't give me that look. You call yourself a useless leech in front of the person whose life you saved and don't expect me to argue?" Steve stared at him, stunned. "You sacrifice your time, personal life, and health to help others and consider yourself a burden for it?? You passed out last night upon coming through the door, and I doubt that was the first time!" He paused, giving Steven a suspicious look. "Who told you you're a useless leech on society?" Steve blinked.

"What? No one." He rubbed his head. "It's just... an observation I've made."

"Well if you're a leech, what am I?" Brine countered. "I don't work either." Steve gave a rueful chuckle.

"No, but you get rid of the bad guys that the law can't or won't deal with. Surely that means something."

"For me to live in a day where being a serial killer is considered nobler than donating blood." Brine muttered under his breath. "Incredible." He stepped over to the sink, washing his hands. "I'd better see you taking care of yourself while I'm here." He added, his voice vaguely threatening.

"You will." Steven assured him. "Either way, you'll be gone before my next blood draw anyway." Brine crossed his arms.

"I suppose." Herobrine dried his hands, then covered the bowl with plastic wrap and slid it into the fridge. "What do you typically do on your days off?"

"If I'm feeling up to it, sometimes I'll take a walk." Steven stretched. "But I've already been to the store today. So I'll probably just watch TV or play a game."

"Game?" Brine echoed. "A computer game, or something like solitaire?"

"I could be playing solitaire on the computer." Steven pointed out. "But no, I-" he hesitated, his face coloring a bit. "...my one- the only thing I spend an unreasonable amount of money on is my computer." Brine lifted a brow.

"May I see this machine?" He requested. Steven sighed, nodded.

"Sure."