#slimeoier

Charlie groans loudly, burrowing further into the little space between the loveseat and Cellbit. The feline hybrid chuckles, bright and rumbly as it vibrates Charlie’s arm, his chest, his head. He is not squashing the other, in fact, there isn’t enough squashing going on because Cellbit brought his notes with him into the living area of his castle and has been buried in them while Roier remains buried in lunch and finally, Charlie is buried in the couch. And Cellbit. Sue him, the cat is warm and while there’s fire all over the castle, it’s a weirdly cold flame that has his joints locking up. It’s awful. Cellbit isn’t because he’s warm but Charlie still hates him a little bit for the stupid, icy flames.

“That’s not what I meant, dude.”

He shivers involuntarily at the sensation, the bitter chill freezing his limbs when it shouldn’t, and Cellbit makings a questioning mrrrp, reaching a hand down to bury it in Charlie’s hair. He can’t help the pleased hum that teeters into a chittering rumble when claws drag careful lines along his scalp. Cellbit purrs in kind as he tries speaking, words slurring but clear as day, “What is it, chayote? Meu chuchu?” Charlie knows exactly what he’s being called. It’s as insulting as it is really fucking sappy, ugh.

“You both suck, no sympathy for me, a li lol slime stuck in Eggxile and away from his…” Charlie isn’t sure how to finish that sentence actually. He’s not sure what they are but it definitely isn’t friendly, but the other two are married, and Charlie is just kind of… hanging around. There is also a lot of kissing involved. It’s complicated, sure let's say that, “—guys, his dudes. Alone.”

Cellbit laughs and abandons his notes, finally sinking into the loveseat so Charlie isn’t just cuddling his leg like it’s some muscly teddy bear. No, now they’re cuddling for real, legit-ly. Cellbit pushes Charlie into the back of his loveseat like he’s trying to make Charlie become one with it or let himself become one with Charlie, arms wrapped around him in a suffocating embrace. That and the loud, engine-like purring are almost enough to make the slime literally melt, but he holds it together because he wants this right now, something solid and warm. Something sturdy. Something… sure.

“And whose fault is that, pendejo? Hm? Who put himself in Eggxile and won’t visit unless under force? I had to lie and say Cellbit and Richas had gotten sick and I needed help.” Roier steps out of the kitchen and into the space, footsteps growing soft as he hits the rug. Charlie can’t see him from where he’s curled into Cellbit, but he can hear how Roier is upset, masking his annoyance and frustration under playful insults. He wilts into Cellbit’s arms more, admittedly shying away from a look he knows the spider is giving him.

“Gaupito, se amable con el.” Cellbit mummers quietly as Charlie hides further in his embrace.

“S’rry,” He mumbles into Cellbit’s shoulder. The hybrid smells like dust and old books, graphite, and rubber. He also smells like Roier. He smells like them, a smell so intertwined with the couple that there’s no name for it, not notes that stand out, just— it’s them.

But not Charlie.

Roier sighs and Cellbit nips lightly at Charlie’s shoulder in reprimand, annoyance, scolding. He pats a hand to the feline’s back in a clumsy apology. For what? He isn’t sure exactly, but the other accepts it and goes back to holding Charlie close, a hand coming back up to rake through his hair again. The spider above them speaks while Charlie tries to not doze off.

“Move over, you two. Apparently, someone thinks they are all alone and I guess we have to fix it,” But nothing happens because Charlie is just so fucking sleepy and warm and cozy, and the only thing that could make this better is— “Okay, fine. Cellbo, help me move the verdura to the bed, there’s more room there.”

Charlie snorts as he’s pulled from the loveseat and into Cellbit’s arms and still warmwarmwarmwam, “Was that a clever pun riffing off of Cell’s stupid nickname? Proud of you for doing it without gagging. I am rubbing off on you, man.”

He cracks an eye open to look at a blurry Roier, several sets of arms crossed stubbornly, but there’s a fond smirk lighting up his eyes. Fucking hell, why are they both so pretty. Charlie smiles back like it’ll convey his frustrations as Cellbit begins walking towards the bedroom.

“We rub off on each other a lot, man, but not that right now. Sleep. Also to prove a stupid point to a stupid slime.”

Charlie laughs and laughs and laughs the entire trip, Cellbit’s own chuckling buzzing his arm as Roier tries to remain unamused and failing miserably.

They prove their point very well.

A few hours later, after some much-needed sleep and aggressive cuddling, Cellbit wakes them both up with a gentle shake, confusion coloring his tone when he finally gets their attention.

“Uh Gaupito, weren’t you making lunch?”

Like an answer, Charlie’s stomach rumbles. Roier cackles tiredly, thumping his forehead against the back of the slime hybrid’s neck. “Yeah, I was.” It’s enough to set them all off again, rolling around in soft, worn sheets, laughing so hard someone starts crying and another gets the hiccups.