Chapter Text
“I can’t thank you enough, Mr… uhhh…”
Dynamite paused–he couldn’t for the life of him remember the guy’s name.
“Brandy.”
The man stood a head or two shorter than Dynamite, his gaze laden with the tiredness that was bound to come with taking care of a small child. While one of his hands gripped the front door–now swung wide open–the other clasped onto the handle of a suitcase.
Him, his wife, and his husband were going on a short weekend trip, leaving Sugarcube, their currently 7-year-old daughter, home alone.
“Right, uh. Sorry. Brandy! I can’t thank you enough for the job. I promise, me and Mushroom will take great care of Sugarcube while you’re gone!”
Mushroom, who stood beside Dynamite, nodded along, an agreeing smile plastered onto her face.
Brandy narrowed his eyes at both of them, and Dynamite, feeling nervous, turned his gaze to look at the woman to the man’s right. Eye level with Dynamite, Maple Syrup’s gaze wasn't any less intimidating, and it took a lot not to melt under her stare.
“We’ve already gone over everything, but just remember the printed out schedule I left on the kitchen table,” she stated calmly. “If anything happens to it, there's also a copy in the email. Also, you know she likes to draw, so just know that the extra paper is in the dining room if you run out!”
At the end of her sentence, she gave an encouraging smile. Yay, she probably doesn't hate him!
Dynamite nodded along to her words, though it was a bit difficult to pay attention. Anxiety was a high that he desperately despised, and knowing so much trust was being placed on his shoulders was not helping.
The past hour had felt like a mushy blur. Meeting the family, getting a tour of the house, going over–everything. Why did they have so many things? Who can afford that much food?
They had also interacted with the kid, but she seemed adamant on not talking to him nor Mushroom.
Regardless, he spent more time looking at photos than paying attention (he should have paid attention).
Hopefully Mushroom remembered everything.
“Sugarcube,” Maple Syrup said, her voice softening to one only a mother could speak to her child. The girl stood at her mom's feet, hands clinging to her leg like a lifeline.
“I know you're worried, but you know we're going to be back in just two nights,” she assured, but Sugarcube only responded with a small, sad sound.
“I wanna go with you!”
Maple Syrup let out a fond sigh, reaching down to pat her daughter’s head. “I know you're going to have all the time in the world to make some amazing drawings while we're gone,” she said, meeting Sugarcube's eyes. “What do you say, you can have a whole art exhibition when we get back! It'll be great!”
Sugarcube tilted her head confusedly, blinking back tears. “Art eggs-what?”
It was then that Dynamite tuned out their words. Maple Syrup and Brandy said a couple more words to the kid, eventually somehow got Sugarcube to step away, and closed the door, leaving Dynamite, Mushroom, and Sugarcube alone.
The air in the room felt a lot more empty without the presence of the three parents.
Dynamite didn't know what to do. He stood still, fiddling his paws in front of him as he looked blankly forward.
Sugarcube stared at the door for a while, sniffling every few seconds before she eventually turned around slowly, looking at the floor.
“Can I go to my room?” She asked quietly, her voice barely a whisper.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Dynamite realized that there were no parental figures for questions to be aimed at anymore, so it was probably directed at him.
“Oh, well–” he started awkwardly, a bit surprised. “Of course, you don't have to ask that.”
Slowly, Sugarcube inched forward, looking both confused and nervous. Her face was still wet from fresh tears from a minute ago. Deciding to revise his answer a bit, Dynamite said: “Yes, you can go to your room.”
She seemed to understand that a bit better, and almost immediately after he finished his sentence, the girl increased her pace, darting off and disappearing into the home. Eventually, Dynamite heard the soft click of a door.
He took a deep breath and let out slowly.
“That was kind of terrible,” Mushroom said next to him. The Jaguar bestial whipped to the side to meet her gaze, having almost forgotten she was there. His closest friend stood with a worried look in her glowing red eyes, her arms crossed across her stem. After a beat of silence, Dynamite’s surprise melted into relief as he reminded himself that he wasn't doing this alone.
“Whaat? Terrible? I'm a pro babysitter, I'll have you know!” Dynamite declared, trying to mimic puffing up his chest.
He was bluffing, and Mushroom knew, but putting up an act normally made him feel a bit better. Or maybe it was just him bottling up his feelings. Regardless, he didn't want Mushroom to feel the same way he did.
“Neither of us have done this before,” Mushroom corrected.
“Well, this family doesn't know that! Stop catastrophizing, I know you're doing it!”
“Mhm. I don't think lying on our resumes is the best practice, though.”
A beat of silence.
Mushroom sighed, rubbing at her face with her claws. “Sorry, I don't mean to kill the mood. We can probably figure this out,” she stated.
Mushroom let out a small sound of surprise when Dynamite suddenly clasped his arms around her in a tight hug, nuzzling his face into her chest. “That’s better,” he said, his voice a bit muffled. Then he pulled away, gripping Mushroom on either shoulder. “Let's go sneak into their snack stash!” He exclaimed, beaming.
Mushroom rolled her eyes, though her frown had turned into a small smile. “Alright,” she conceded.
When they entered the kitchen, Dynamite checked the clock on the oven.
6:45 PM.
Just under two hours until Sugarcube had to be asleep. They had just eaten dinner, too, so they wouldn't have to feed her or anything.
You're almost done with the first night, Dynamite thought to himself as he rummaged through a cabinet. It's just one weekend. Then you'll get to go home. He pulled out a bag of something, and almost squealed in glee when he realized what it was.
“Mushroom!” He exclaimed, springing into the air and spinning around to face his friend. She looked a little zoned out, but re-focused when she met his gaze.
“They have jerky! Like, made with actual meat! Do you know how expensive this stuff is?”
“Uhh,” Mushroom responded with a blink. “Not really. I'm not exactly in the carnivore market.”
Dynamite sighed. “Right. Well, I'm gonna be eating this.” Hyperfocused on his new favorite snack, Dynamite walked over to the kitchen table and plopped down in the first chair he saw before ripping the bag open with his teeth and reaching in.
Mushroom’s mouth formed a thin line, watching her friend anxiously.
“I think we should check on the girl… she seemed kind of sad,” she pointed out.
“Um…” Dynamite said, a piece of jerky half-chewed in his mouth. He did have this very large you-need-to-do-something feeling, and ignoring it made him feel extremely anxious, but he was just so good at ignoring it!
“She’s probably fine. I think she wanted alone time anyways, she's just in her room. We're just babysitters, not her actual parents. Nothing's gonna go wrong or anything.”
Mushroom seemed to accept that, and Dynamite's words would’ve held true if it weren't for what happened right after.
For a few moments, it was just Dynamite snacking while looking at his phone and Mushroom idly looking about the kitchen.
Then the lights flickered once.
Twice.
Dynamite and Mushroom shared a look.
Then, the home plunged into darkness, and the lights didn't turn back on. The AC stopped its constant whirr, and everything was silent.