And he adored them, no matter how destructive they were, or how badly they hurt him. He blithely ignored Venus' disapproval of how he let them get away with almost everything, an overindulgent parent who was far too taken advantage of. But life was so fleeting--every extinction event hit Earth hard, and it hurt for the other planets to see. Even Uranus and Neptune, who generally ignored everyone but each other, had been subdued in the face of Earth's devastation when he lost the dinosaurs.
Earth wasn't the youngest, but he was by far the most vulnerable, and none of the planets ever wanted to see him come to harm.
(Well, except maybe Mars in his more dour moods, but that was only ever just a joke. He still complained about the itchy metal things Earth's inhabitants seemed determined to keep sending him--you don't just invade a planet like that, honestly--but it was more due to the fact that Earth flushed brightly whenever he mentioned it. It was scandalous to just land on another planet and take pieces away from them, but Earth's creatures were just so curious.)
Earth could be a little oblivious sometimes (most of the time), so busy protecting and shepherding and recovering from the life he supported--but when something happened to the other planets, he always took sharp notice. So when he wandered in after the impact event that had left Jupiter reeling, chattering excitedly to an indulgent Venus about a newly-discovered extrasolar planet, the absence of the older planet stopped him dead in his tracks.
It only took a few moments for his eyes to widen in realization.
"Where is he?" he blurted, sounding so young, so scared, and the other planets shared wary looks before Saturn pointed wordlessly toward Jupiter's closed door, which sent Earth racing for it.
Jupiter loved Earth. They all did, protective sometimes to the point of smothering, but they all knew Jupiter loved Earth best. He'd protected him through the billions of years, ever since the very beginning, sheltering him as much as he was able; he was even not-so-secretly working with Europa in case Earth's beloved Life was ever in danger. He loved Earth even more than Earth's pet Luna did.
The ugly, painful wound now marring the right side of his torso was just one of many blows he'd taken for the younger planet.
"Oh, no," Earth breathed, stopping in the doorway. The broken sound of his voice snapped Jupiter's attention to him instantly; the older planet grimaced. "Oh, Jupe--not again."
Jupiter held his gaze for a few moments longer before his shoulders slumped, and he held out the bandages he'd awkwardly been trying to wrap around his chest.
"Should have figured you would find out quickly. Well, c'mon, you may as well help."
Earth shuffled forward, taking the bandages with trembling hands. He made to reach toward the wound before checking himself, swallowing hard and starting to tend the injured Outer planet.
Jupiter stood the guilty silence for only a little while before reaching out to ruffle Earth's hair.
"Don't get that face."
"I don't have on a face," Earth muttered, stubbornly keeping his eyes on his hands as he tended Jupiter with almost painful gentleness. "This is my normal face. You have the stupid face."
Jupiter snorted, wincing when the movement jarred his injury. Earth shot him an incensed scowl.
"Stop it," he snapped. "You can't-- Just-- Just stop it, alright? Stop."
Jupiter's eyes softened.
"Hey," he said softly, catching Earth's wrist. "Hey. I'm okay. I'm fine, see?"
"Not if you keep doing this," Earth bit out. His eyes were wet when he looked up, fear warring with the guilt and worry on his face. "You can't keep taking hits for me, you can't--"
"No," Jupiter interrupted firmly. He took the end of the bandage and tucked it into place, freeing his hands to reach up to cup Earth's face. "I can, and I will. You couldn't have taken that hit, Earth."
He brushed his thumb over Earth's cheek.
"They couldn't have taken it," Jupiter reminded him gently.
Earth flinched. Life was his greatest joy, his greatest weakness, and all of the planets knew it. It was just a few thousand years old and so fragile, so breakable, the balance keeping it going constantly teetering on a pinpoint edge.
"So?" he muttered, the word shaky despite himself. "They're not your responsibility. And it's not like--it's not like they're important, they're just little blips that'll vanish and be gone and the universe will forget about them, they don't matter--"
Jupiter tilted Earth's head up, encouraging the younger planet to meet his gaze.
"Those are Venus' words," he chided. "Not yours. You love life, Earth. Those tiny, insignificant creatures--they're important to you. And so they're important to me."
Earth's eyes widened. His lower lip trembled, his face scrunching up, and Jupiter had just a few seconds to brace himself before skinny arms were wrapped tight around his waist. Earth barely came up to his mid-chest--and still had the presence of mind to avoid his injury--but that didn't diminish the warm, grateful strength in the younger planet's grip.
Jupiter let a small smile quirk his lips, resting a hand on Earth's head, combing his fingers through his mess of blue-green hair.
"We'll protect you, kiddo," he murmured. "I'll protect you. Always. You got that?"
Earth nodded into his abdomen, and Jupiter fondly pretended to not hear his quiet sniffling.
Earth still had trillions of years ahead of him, time to grow and flourish and come into his own--and Jupiter didn't plan on missing a single day of it.
