Work Text:
It was just a normal Tuesday night. All was quiet in the workshop where Joey and Henry practically lived with their cartoon creations. Henry was at his desk, finishing up the dialogue for a new show they were preparing for; Boris was in his room, probably occupying himself with reading of some sort; and Bendy, well, Henry hoped that his silence was the product of benevolent interests. Joey was actually resting on a little cot in his studio, much to Henry's amazement. It always seemed like he was continuously working on something, and it was nice to know his partner was finally asleep. Not that Henry made sure he was asleep, definitely not three times, and he definitely never asked Boris to check on him once.
He glanced at the blue faced clock behind his desk. It ticked softly as he read the hands pointing to 11:34 P.M. Henry thought he should be done in about thirty minutes, perhaps. Maybe less if he concentrated. Then he could check on everyone one last time before retiring to bed. Little did Henry know, Bendy was secretly up to no good.
Who knew ink was so hard to keep quiet? Bendy certainly found that out the hard way. He couldn't count how many times he'd been caug- oh wait, yes he could, fifty-seven. Fifty-seven times a burble, gurgle, or splorch gave away what he was doing, and he was tired of it. That's when the little demon thought up the most diabolical idea. He could shrink! Just shed of some o' that ink in a bucket, and he'd be perfectly mischief sized. Less ink on him meant less noise, and more ink in the ol' bucket to use in pranks! That's why he was so quiet, not because he was "being good", like Boris.
Ooooo, he should prank Boris first! That's a grand thought right there. But how? Miniature Bendy paced 'round a circle in his room, gloved hands behind his back in thought. A worn, battered bucket full of ink rested on the nightstand in the corner. He put his finger to a pondering sly smile. The black demon couldn't hear his wolf friend's trumpet, so he's either asleep or reading. Hopefully sleeping, cause then it would be easiest to fill his trumpet with ink. Reading is pretty distracting too though, with the way Boris will get into it. Bendy giggled at the image of his besty going to toot his instrument in the morning, but instead of music, ink spurts out of the end with a muffled blop. Preferably in someone's face.
Welp, time to make another dream come reality.
A smaller-than-usual demon tiptoed out into the hallway carrying the ink bucket that was almost too big for him to lift. How he managed to to that without making any noise, no one knows. But he made it to Boris' room without spilling a drop and set it down carefully next to the door frame. Bendy inched the side if his head towards the closed door and cocked it at an angle. Even though he didn't have actual ears, the demon could hear quite well, and no sounds were coming from behind the door. Good. He cracked a devilish smile as he eased open the door, careful to not make it squeak. Slowly stepping towards the Boris' bed, he spotted the trumpet on the nightstand beside it. It was all shined up and ready for tomorrow, with the cleaning rag draped over it. Gloved hands tentatively picked up the instrument from under the rag, and sneaked back out into the hallway, minding the loose floor boards along the way. Back in the hallway, he managed to hold the trumpet upright with his feet while precariously tipping the bucket of ink into the entrance. Bendy then wiped any excess ink from the mouth of it with his gloves, making sure all the ink was concealed inside. He tiptoed back and replaced it with the rag draped over it, all the while desperately trying to hold back his demonic chuckles.
The deed is done. Now to disappear back to his room and act like nothing happened. Bendy placed the now empty bucket under his bed and hopped under the stain proof covers, the mischievous smile plastered on his face even as he fell asleep.