Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Skeppy comes home, sword slung over his shoulder and a saddlebag full of various mob parts in his hand, he is immediately put on guard by the lack of any greeting. Whenever he opens the door, Bad will yell out a greeting to him. Every time. Without fail.

So the fact that the house is quiet and dark when he returns is more than enough reason to begin to worry. He steps into the house, dropping the bag to the floor and ignoring the way its contents spill out across the hardwood. He takes his sword from his shoulder and holds it in front of him defensively, using the dim light from the enchantment to see where he was going.

"Bad?" He calls out, curiosity turning to nerves when he gets no response. "Are you home?" He supposes it's not out of the realm of possibility for Bad to be out and about, but he usually tells Skeppy before he heads out, and he always leaves a note.

Terrifying visions of his best friend lying broken and dead on the floor fill his mind, unbidden, losing his life- even temporarily- to some unknown foe. Skeppy releases a shaky breath, revenge plans already coursing through him. If Bad has so much as a scuff on his jacket Skeppy is going to raise hell.

Skeppy freezes when he hears a sound from the darkened corner of the living room. It... isn’t human, but it doesn’t sound like any mob that he is familiar with either. He supposes it isn’t that strange, there are plenty of half-humans on the server, but the fact that one of them is in his and Bad's house is cause enough to worry.

"Hey!" Skeppy barks, brandishing his sword and hoping he looks menacing enough to scare off the intruder. He is suddenly very relieved he didn’t take his mask off when he came inside. "Who are you and what are you doing in my house!"

The intruder lunges forward, unthreatened by the sword, and pins Skeppy to the ground by his shoulders before he can retaliate. The sword goes clattering across the floor, too far away for Skeppy to reach it even as he stretches his fingers out as far as they can go. The creature above him rumbles deep in its chest, and Skeppy turns his attention back to it, anger turning to cold fear. The creature is hidden mostly by shadow, but the eyes glow white in the dim light. Skeppy worries for a moment that an enderman has gotten into his house, but no. Endermen don’t attack like this, and Bad could have handled it with ease. The creature displays a wicked set of teeth and leans in closer to Skeppy's neck.

Skeppy flinches backward, hitting his head on the floor, preparing to have his throat torn out. He isn’t on his last life, not yet, but Bad will have to come home to his lifeless (and possibly partially eaten) corpse and then help him through the long and painful process of respawning.

He would do it without complaint, Skeppy knows, because he has before. Letting Skeppy sob into his shoulder when the pain became too much, staying by his bedside while he healed, trying to keep him company, only leaving to get food or medicine, crying over him when he thought Skeppy was asleep. He doesn’t want to put his best friend through that again.

It seems as though he doesn’t have a choice, though, as the creature puts its warm mouth on the space between Skeppy’s shoulder and neck. Skeppy tenses, waiting for the killing bite. 

The teeth press into his shoulder, and Skeppy wishes the creature would just get it over and done with rather than taunting him like this. ‘ Playing with its food ’ says a dark part of Skeppy’s mind, making his stomach turn unpleasantly. 

The creature closes its jaw, and Skeppy shouts in pain, strangled and afraid. The creature pulls away from him like it had been burned, leaving Skeppy unpinned. He immediately scrambles into a sitting position, hand pressing onto his shoulder, which is… bleeding a lot less than he originally thought. It actually doesn't hurt too bad either, most of the initial pain came from fear. It really isn't worse than being nipped by an overly excited dog. Skeppy pauses in his desperate attempts to flee from the creature, instead staring at it in bewilderment. It’s staring back at him worriedly, and its eyes keep flicking to his shoulder, which will stop bleeding in a few minutes. Skeppy is still waiting for the next attack. He wants to get up and get his sword, but he worries that moving will provoke it to attack him again. He swallows his nerves and slowly reaches for his bag, pulling out a couple of torches and placing them beside himself. The creature makes a face and squints in the sudden light, but doesn't run or attack him, so Skeppy is counting this as a victory. 

With the newly created light source, Skeppy is able to get a look at whatever it is that is in his house. His eyes flick to a wad of torn fabric on the ground, newly illuminated in the torchlight, and a wave of hot rage overtakes him as he recognizes it as Bad’s coat. He wouldn’t part with it unless he was forced to, always complaining about the cold, even in summer. If it’s lying here on the floor, torn to shreds, Bad nowhere to be found… then something must have happened to him. 

This thought gives Skeppy the motivation to scramble to his feet and grab the sword from the ground. He turns to the creature, and his fury must show in his posture because the creature scrambles backward and up the wall. It tucks itself into the rafters like a pigeon and Skeppy hears himself shriek in frustration, swinging his sword wildly at a support beam and prying it loose again. 

“You son of a bitch! What did you do to Bad?” Skeppy shouts, anger and fear for his friend mixing into a horrible cocktail of emotions within him. The creature stares at him blankly, long limbs tucked underneath itself. It cocks its head, blinking wide eyes, and Skeppy pushes down the thought of ‘ Aw, it’s actually kind of cute,’ that rises in his mind unbidden. “Where is he!” Skeppy screams. 

An arrow whizzes into the room from behind him, burying itself in Skeppy’s shoulder blade. Skeppy yelps in surprise and pain, stumbling forward. He had left the damn door open, and a skeleton had wandered in. Skeppy hoists his sword up, ignoring the way his back pulses with pain at the movement. The skeleton doesn't stand a chance, not with the rage coursing through Skeppy at the moment.

Skeppy doesn't even get a chance to take a step forward before a  large, dark shape leaps over him and lands on the skeleton, crushing it beneath its claws. The creature holds the thrashing skeleton down and bites its neck in a cruel parody of what it had done to Skeppy not even a minute earlier. The skeleton’s neck snaps easily, and the monster goes limp, turning into a pile of dust and a couple of bones. 

The creature huffs, seemingly satisfied that the mob is dead, and then turns and locks eyes with Skeppy. He freezes under the creature’s stare and then throws himself backwards when the creature moves in his direction.

Unfortunately, the creature is much, much faster than him, and Skeppy has barely moved a foot before he is knocked to the ground, a large, clawed paw pressing down on his head. The paw holding him down is larger than his entire head, and that realization makes Skeppy shudder. He supposes that he is lucky that the creature pinned him on his stomach rather than his back, as that could have pressed the arrow all the way through his torso, and that would definitely have killed him. 

He waits for a killing blow once again, waits for the creature to put its teeth around his neck a second and final time. He waits for the creature’s pressure to increase on his head until his skull cracks, he waits for it to take a chunk out of his side, but none of that comes. 

Actually, now that he thinks about it… the creature is being surprisingly gentle, despite how much it outsizes Skeppy. It is barely exerting enough pressure to hold him down, and certainly not enough to hurt him. Its claws are stretched carefully away from Skeppy’s face, and it hasn’t tried to hurt him yet, the small bite mark on his shoulder non-withstanding. 

The creature grabs hold of the arrow between needle-sharp teeth, and although Skeppy can't see it with his head being held on the ground, he can tell that the creature is being gentle. The creature’s grip tightens, jostling the arrow slightly, and Skeppy lets out a sharp breath. The creature whines empathetically in response and pulls out the arrow in one swift motion. 

Skeppy shouts in pain, nails digging grooves into the floor, and the creature lets go of his head, making small noises of distress at Skeppy’s obvious agony. Before he can get his bearings and breathe through the immense pain that comes with removing an arrow, the creature is grabbing at him again, this time holding him close to its chest, lifting him off the ground as it draws itself up to its full height, which is very, very tall. Skeppy would absolutely love to kick and scream and fight to get down, but he is still very busy not passing out from the pain of getting an arrow ripped out of his back. 

The creature is making noises in his ear, and once the pain begins to fade and allow his other senses to return, he recognizes that the creature is shushing him . Skeppy has a few seconds to feel bewildered before he realizes why it’s so soothing. It’s exactly what Bad does when Skeppy is injured or sick. Skeppy freezes, still dangling in the creature’s arms. 

The pieces begin to fit together, Bad not being at home, the torn coat on the floor, its vicious attitude towards the skeleton, but exceeding gentleness towards Skeppy. 

“Bad?” Skeppy asks, voice trembling slightly. The creature- Bad doesn’t respond, only sets Skeppy down on the floor. His legs give out from under him, his body still not caught up from this new discovery and the sharp pain in his back. He doesn't manage to hit the floor, Bad grabs the back of his hoodie the way someone may scruff a kitten and hoists him to his feet. 

When Skeppy is sat back down on the floor, he does not crumble, instead only stares dumbly up at the- at Bad, who is now easily twice his height. Maybe twelve feet tall. Or he would be if he was not crouched over on himself, head up in the dusty rafters. His legs have extended into what resemble goat’s hind legs, and his arms have elongated and thinned, growing claws on the joints, like a bat with no wing tissue. His horns are much longer too, twisting upwards and scraping the ceiling. The claws that had held Skeppy down not minutes ago twitch anxiously at Bad’s side. Despite how… different his friend looks at the moment, this confirms Skeppy’s suspicions. Bad has a habit of twitching his fingers at his side whenever he was nervous or overwhelmed. This is his friend. 

Skeppy steps forward hesitantly, hands drawn up to his chest in an instinctive display of nervousness, reassured when Bad doesn't run or attack him. He touches his friend’s hand, much larger and much more dangerous than when he had last seen it, but still his. 

Bad does nothing but cock his head and let out a small ‘mrrp?’, reminding Skeppy of the cats that wander the villages. Skeppy laughs, a breathy puff of a thing, but a laugh nonetheless. Bad then moves forward at a speed that Skeppy could not hope to avoid and headbutts him in the chest. 

Thankfully for perhaps all of Skeppy’s organs, the horns miss him completely, though the force of the headbutt does knock him to the ground. He hits the wood flooring with a small ‘oomph’, as his breath is knocked out of him. Bad seems to take this as an invitation to curl around him like an overwhelmingly large cat. Skeppy laughs loudly, running a hand over his friend’s head. Bad adjusts their position so that Skeppy is being held under the arms. Bad’s hands are large enough to wrap around his chest and overlap, and for whatever reason, that drags a childish giggle out of Skeppy. Bad mimics him, a rumbly chuckle coming from his throat. 

Bad stands, taking Skeppy with him and leaving the masked man with his legs dangling in the air. Skeppy doesn't resist this time, instead sighing exasperatedly and allowing Bad to hold him like a child holding a cat. Bad walks over to Skeppy’s bed, elongated legs allowing him to cross the room in only a few long strides. Skeppy sways with his gait, only having a moment to worry about the stability of his bed before Bad throws himself on top of it, thankfully on his back and not his stomach, which may not have severely injured Skeppy, but it would certainly be uncomfortable to have a demonic creature twice your size lying on top of you.

A deep rumble comes from the chest that Skeppy is being held against as Bad shuffles around to get comfortable. Bad pulls the blanket up to his shoulders, completely covering Skeppy in fabric. He moves to get up, but Bad only tightens his hold with a displeased whine. Skeppy wheezes out a breath at the bone-crushing embrace, tapping his friend’s forearm frantically.

“Too tight Bad!” He chokes out, causing Bad to release him immediately with a worried chitter. Bad puts his chin on the top of Skeppy’s head, which the black-haired man is choosing to take as an apology. He accepts it by putting a hand on top of his friend’s head and patting gently. 

Bad wraps his long arms around him once more, though much more slowly now, as though his friend was carefully calculating how much pressure he could exert so as to not hurt him. Skeppy thinks it’s very cute. 

Once Bad has found the perfect way to hold Skeppy against his chest without causing him any pain, the blanket is pulled back over the two of them. Originally, Skeppy’s plan was to wait for Bad to fall asleep and then climb out of bed to go get something to eat, but the deep, soothing rumbling coming from the chest pressed to his back is quickly lulling him to sleep. Not to mention the blanket blocking out all light and the fact that Bad ran hotter than an average person, being from the Nether. All of these factors combining assured that Skeppy would be out like a light in mere minutes. 

It was easily the best nap he’d ever had.

Chapter Text

Bad wakes up slowly, pleasant warmth sunken into his skin, and a hazy peacefulness enveloping his mind. He opens his mouth in a yawn, and freezes when his tongue touches his teeth. They are much sharper than he expected them to be, which tells him he is in his true form without having to open his eyes. Bad frowns and prods his teeth with his tongue once again, scanning his mind in an attempt to figure out what the odd taste in his mouth is. He lies there for a few more seconds, frowning in concentration, sleep-addled mind not completely there. 

The realization that it’s blood that he’s tasting doesn't shock him. He has often returned to his own mind to find that he had dragged home several wild sheep, spattered with blood and bits of wool. He almost lies back down and drifts off again, but something feels wrong about the taste in his mouth. He may not have noticed it had his senses not been bumped up to one hundred in this form, but the blood in his mouth is not sheep’s blood. It’s human. 

Bad sits up, the peace he had been feeling shattered. Horror floods him, bile rising in his throat. 

Whose blood is in his mouth? 

There is an obvious answer, but it’s not one Bad is willing to consider without evidence. He scans the room, searching for any obvious signs of a struggle. He wants to cry when his eyes land on a small puddle of blood on the flood, smeared revoltingly. He holds out hope, even though he can smell that it’s Skeppy’s blood from here, until his eyes land on a sword on the floor, lying a few feet away from the blood, as though it had been knocked out of someone’s hands. It’s Skeppy’s sword. Bad wouldn’t be able to mistake it, he had been the one to help Skeppy with the long and arduous process of enchanting it, after all.

A raspy, panicked sob escapes from Bad. He can't imagine why his true form would have attacked Skeppy. Sure, he may not be of his own mind for a few hours, but he still kept his emotions, his earthy attachments. Even his true form knows what’s important to him, and there is nothing more important to him than Skeppy.

He hopes beyond hope that Skeppy had run away and wasn’t dead or dying. Bad moves to get up, to search the house for either Skeppy or his… his remains. Bad swings his elongated legs over the side of the bed, dread filling his stomach and making him nauseous. 

Bad doesn't even manage to stand up before he hears a discontented whine from under the blanket that’s draped over him. Bad freezes, finally registering the arms wrapping around his midsection. He trembles slightly in anticipation as he lifts the blanket to see who lies beneath it, tentative hope rising in his chest. The thick red cloth is pulled back to reveal Skeppy, curled into his midsection, fast asleep. Bad goes boneless with relief, flopping back onto the bed, making it creak dangerously. The movement seems to wake Skeppy, as he rolls over so that he’s lying on Bad’s chest. His friend yawns widely, stretching out his limbs. 

Even with all of Skeppy’s limbs stretched out to their extent, he is barely half of Bad’s size. The sight causes protectiveness to swell in Bad’s gut, but he does his best to dismiss it for now, as it is likely his true form’s instinct trying to take over. 

Skeppy wakes slowly, as he always does, blinking his eyes open and moving as though he is submerged in molasses. Bad waits patiently for his friend to fully awaken, not speaking. He doesn't know if Skeppy knows it’s him. It is pretty likely that his true form strongarmed Skeppy into bed in some odd urge to protect him, and if Skeppy was unable to leave it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that he had just fallen asleep. 

When Skeppy wakes up completely, he tries to sit up. Bad puts a hand on his back without meaning to, bestial instincts still acting as a driving force, and Skeppy winces, making Bad pull his hand away. 

“You gotta let me up, bud.” He says, voice still heavy with sleepiness. “I gotta make dinner.” Well, that confirmed that Skeppy did know it was Bad and not some random monster. Bad moves his arm so that Skeppy can get out of the bed unhindered and Skeppy blinks up at him in surprise, suddenly looking more awake. 

“Bad? Are you back?” He asks, sitting up on Bad’s chest. The fact that his friend is light enough to sit on his chest and not hinder his breathing whatsoever almost makes a hysterical laugh bubble up in his chest, but he manages to push it down. Bad nods to Skeppy and he relaxes against Bad, looking relieved.
“Good, good. I was worried.” Skeppy says, and the room descends into peace once more. That peace breaks when Bad’s eyes catch on the blood on the floor once again, and he sits up without thinking, causing Skeppy to slide down his chest and into his lap. Skeppy opens his mouth, no doubt to ask what has Bad so spooked, but Bad speaks before his friend is able to. 

“ Did I hurt you? ” Bad asks, voice rumbly and stilted. He didn't often speak in this form, as it causes an instinctual fear in anyone that hears it, but speaking was going to be necessary if Skeppy really was injured. 

Skeppy startles at his voice, but calms down rather quickly. His eyes widen as he processes Bad’s question, and he looks almost comically terrified as he answers. 

“Uh, no.” He lies. Even if Skeppy weren’t Bad’s best friend, he would be able to tell when he was lying. Anyone could, his tells were almost hilariously obvious. 

“ There’s blood on the floor, ” Bad points out, leveling Skeppy with a stern look. Skeppy looks at the blood.
“Huh,” He says. “I kinda forgot about that.” 

Bad resists the urge to lightly punch the younger man on the arm as he would have had he been in his smaller form, not wanting to underestimate his strength and hurt him. 

“ Did I- ” Bad hesitates to ask, nausea already building at the thought, but the blood lies heavy on his tongue, not allowing him to avoid the truth. “Did I bite you?” 

Skeppy stares at him, eyes wide.  

“Uh- no?” He says again, and Bad can see the glint of sweat beading on his brow. Skeppy shifts nervously, and the blanket falls away from him completely, revealing his hoodie shoulder. Which is soaked in dried blood and has a clean bite mark in it. Bad jumps into action without thinking, holding his friend in place so he can get a good look at the damage without Skeppy trying to wiggle out of his grip with platitudes and insistence that he’s perfectly fine. 

Bad pins Skeppy’s arms down, pressing them against his torso and wrapping his hands around the man’s waist so he wouldn’t be able to push Bad away. He inspects the wound carefully, only relaxing when he sees that it is not deep enough to do any real damage. It would ache for a few days, that was all. Bad wants to check Skeppy for other injuries but hesitates when he finally registers that his friend is trembling slightly in his grip. Bad immediately lets go, cursing himself for forgetting his strength and using it to restrain his best friend. 

“I’m so sorry Skeppy,” Bad says emphatically, white eyes wide with horror, resisting the urge to reach out and hug him, as he is not completely sure he can control his own strength enough to hug the human without injuring him. 

“It’s fine,” Skeppy says, the slight hoarseness to his voice making Bad’s stomach twist with guilt. “I know I shouldn’t be scared of you, but… you know.” Bad frowns at the guilt on Skeppy’s face, surely matching his own. 

“Skeppy, that’s not your fault at all,” Bad says imploringly, reaching out for his friend, stopping just short of brushing a hand over his cheek. Skeppy takes the offered hand and leans his face into the touch. The contact breaks the tension, and both of their shoulders relax. 

“ This form- my true form, it triggers fight or flight in humans.” Bad explains softly, though his voice still rumbles deep in his chest. “ You’re actually reacting better than most.”  

Skeppy huffs softly in amusement into Bad’s palm, the air from his breath tickling Bad’s sensitive paw pads. 

“Well yeah. I trust you completely, even if you are way too tall now.” Skeppy jokes. Bad frowns, realizing his friend is deflecting his original question. 

“ Hold on, ” Bad rumbles lowly, “Stop avoiding the question. What happened? Did I actually bite you?” Bad asks. Skeppy rubs his neck, looking guilty. Bad can't imagine why he would be guilty about this.
“I don't want to tell you,” Skeppy says finally. “It’s just going to make you feel bad.” 

“ Skeppy, if you don't tell me I’m just going to assume it’s something worse than it is and freak out even more,”  Bad says, crossing his arms sternly. Skeppy can't argue that point and relents with a long-suffering sigh. 

“Well… yeah, you did bite me,” Skeppy admits, not looking at him. Bad inhales sharply, which makes Skeppy start waving his hands in front of himself frantically. “But I don't- I don't think you were trying to hurt me!” He amends hurriedly, grabbing Bad’s hand and pulling it away from his mouth where he had started to anxiously chew his claw. Or, at least, he grabbed a finger. There was no way for him to grab his entire hand with their current size difference. Bad allows Skeppy to guide his movements without question. 

“It was really more like a love bite!” Skeppy says cheerfully, making Bad groan and hide his face in the younger man’s uninjured shoulder.
“ Geppy, don't say that!” Bad whines, face flushing imperceptibly against his void-black skin. Skeppy pats his chest with a teasing chuckle. 

“It really didn't hurt that much,” Skeppy reassures him. “It was really more of a surprise than anything.” 

Bad sighs deeply in relief and begins to relax against Skeppy like he had so many times before, but stops dead when he hears Skeppy’s strained voice. 

“Bad, Bad ! I can't hold you up!” He says hurriedly, and Bad sits back up immediately, hands moving without his command to check on his friend.
“ I’m sorry ,” Bad groans, hiding his face behind large, clawed hands. “I’m not usually around humans when I’m like this, I’m not used to monitoring my strength.” 

Skeppy, to his credit, doesn't seem too upset that a twelve-foot-tall demon had nearly just put all of its body weight on him, instead just leans against Bad and yawns widely, still shaking off the sleepiness from his long nap. Bad narrows his eyes at the way his friend is moving. He has known Skeppy for a very long time, and he knows when his friend is hurting. Skeppy never moves this stiffly unless he’s in pain, and the wound to his shoulder wasn't deep enough to make him ache like that.
“ You got hurt somewhere else, ” Bad says accusingly, knowing he hit the mark when Skeppy’s eyes widen nervously. “ There’s more blood than could come from that shoulder wound, and you're moving like you're hurt,” Bad says, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh, look at you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes over here!” Skeppy jokes. 

“Skeppy,” Bad says in what would be a lighthearted warning growl in his other form. He realizes too late how threatening he sounds in his new voice when his friend’s dark eyes tighten with instinctual fear. Bad clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.” 

There is a tense silence for a few moments, the two of them just leaning against each other. 

“A skeleton got in,” Skeppy says finally, something like resignation in his voice. “It shot me in the back.” 

“ WHAT?! ” Bad shouts, making Skeppy jump. “ You got shot ? Is the arrow still in? Have you done first aid?” 

“Bad calm down, the arrow got taken out.”

“ Oh, good. ”
“Yeah, you pulled it out like two hours ago.” 

Bad almost blacks out with shock.
“I PULLED IT OUT?” Bad shouts, horror bringing his voice up a few octaves. Skeppy nods solemnly.

“Yeah, with your teeth.” He says, miming someone tugging as he speaks. Bad’s vision goes hazy and nausea swells in his gut. 

“ Why would you let me do that?” Bad asks thinly. Skeppy rolls his eyes, which sort of makes Bad want to strangle him. When he’s back in his smaller form so it could be more of a fair fight, of course. 

“I didn't exactly have a choice,” Skeppy says, crossing his arms defiantly. “You held me down. You’re a heck of a lot bigger than me right now.” 

If Bad could cry in this form he definitely would be right now. Skeppy seems to read his body language despite his inability to produce tears, as he climbs into his lap with a small shushing noise. 

“Bad, it’s okay. You were trying to help.” Skeppy reassures, and Bad sniffles thickly. 

“ I’m still sorry,” Bad says miserably. “ You need to go do first aid. The kit is in the bathroom on the bottom shelf.” 

Skeppy scoffs playfully.
“I know where the first aid kit is.” He argues. 

“ Only because you get hurt so often,” Bad teases, making Skeppy shoot him an exaggerated pout over his shoulder as he walks to the bathroom. Skeppy stops in his tracks halfway there.
“Oh wait! I still need to make dinner.” He says, turning around to walk in the direction of the kitchen. Bad is on his feet in a second, only taking two large steps to reach his friend. He puts a hand on his lower back, careful to avoid the wound, and steers Skeppy back towards the bathroom. Skeppy, at half of Bad’s current size, can't do much to resist Bad’s ministrations besides whine childishly. 

“ No. Absolutely not. I will make dinner, you are going to go patch up your wounds before they get infected.” Bad says, his tone leaving no room for argument. Skeppy seems to sense that he isn't going to back down, and as he can't physically resist his actions, he just rolls his eyes and walks to the bathroom with exaggerated steps, making eye contact with Bad all the while, like a child challenging their mother. Bad huffs out a laugh at the analogy, watching Skeppy disappear into their small bathroom. 

Bad turns to the kitchen, blinking in surprise when he sees several dead sheep on the table. Huh, so he had managed to go hunting before he woke up. Bad rolls his neck, shuddering slightly as it cracks. Looks like they're having mutton tonight. His apron won’t fit him now, but he gets a good chuckle out of the mental image of his true form wearing a pink, frilly apron anyway. 

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He has just barely managed to finish putting the mutton in the oven when he hears footsteps behind him and turns to see Skeppy standing in the doorway to the kitchen, sheepishly holding a roll of bandages. 

“ Are you okay? ” Bad asks, tilting his head in concern. 

“I can't reach the wound on my back,” Skeppy says with a sigh. Bad mentally smacks his forehead. Of course, Skeppy wouldn't be able to properly clean a back wound by himself! Bad moves forward, instinctively trying to assist his friend. He takes a step before stopping, realizing he doesn't know if he is going to be able to help Skeppy without hurting him worse in this form. He won't be able to change back for another few hours, at least not without being in excruciating pain. Skeppy holds out the bandages expectantly and Bad shakes himself out of his doubts. Regardless of how much Bad trusts himself right now, Skeppy trusts him, and he is not going to betray that. 

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Skeppy is lying on his stomach so as not to aggravate the wound, hoodie forgotten on the floor so Bad can see the injury, his black undershirt pulled up around his neck to reveal the hole in his right shoulder blade, crusted with drying blood. 

The first thing Bad does is check for any debris that may be left behind in the wound, and because his true form removed the arrow with his teeth , there is quite a bit. 

Once Bad had removed the slivers of wood and bits of flint, murmuring hushed apologies whenever Skeppy tensed up in pain, he begins to wash the puncture wound of the blood that had crusted there, being as gentle as he possibly can in this form. His hands, if laid flat, could cover all of Skeppy’s back, so going slowly as he cleans the wound is a must right now. 

The bowl of clean water sitting on the bedside table is pink with blood by the time Bad is finished cleaning up his friend, and by that point, all there is to do is disinfect the injury and bandage it. Bad does just that, murmuring a warning before pressing the antiseptic soaked cloth to his friend’s shoulder. Skeppy, to his credit, doesn't do more than inhale sharply and tangle his long fingers in the sheets. Bad praises him for handling the pain, which makes Skeppy laugh and says it makes him feel like a little kid at the doctors. The comparison makes Bad chuckle a little as well. 

By the time Bad is done bandaging, cleaning, and disinfecting the wound, Skeppy has begun to doze off. Bad smiles softly at the sight, something in him soothed at the knowledge that Skeppy trusts him enough to doze off when exposed like this, even with Bad in his true form. The moment can't last forever, though. If Skeppy takes a second nap so close to nighttime then he’s going to be up all night. Bad shakes his friend’s good shoulder, causing the younger man to groan and roll over, away from Bad’s touch. The demon grabs his friend and carefully maneuvers him onto his stomach again, not wanting to let Skeppy reopen any of his freshly bandaged wounds. 

“Are we done?” Skeppy asks blearily, stretching his legs out and poking Bad’s arm with his foot. Bad bats the offending appendage away with a smile.
“ Yeah, we’re done.” Bad tells him, and Skeppy sits up, rolling his shoulders and wincing at the pain it brings him, making Bad tut at him disapprovingly. 

“Alright, thanks, man. I’ll make dinner now.” Skeppy says, moving to get up. Bad huffs in astonishment, grabbing Skeppy around the middle before he has a chance to wander off, tugging his friend into his lap with careful hands so as not to hurt him further. 

“ Absolutely not,” Bad says sternly. “ Even if you're not bleeding anymore, you still need to rest.”  

Skeppy squirms in his grip, but when it becomes clear that Bad is not going to relent on this point he goes boneless against Bad with a groan of annoyance. Bad freezes at the close contact, not wanting to make the wrong move and hurt his friend. 

Skeppy seems to notice Bad’s behavior, as he smacks the demon’s arm to get his attention. 

“Stop being all stiff. I can hear you angsting from here, you aren't going to hurt me.” Skeppy says, not moving from his relaxed position. Bad can read Skeppy like an open book, and this is quite clearly a casual effort to show Bad that he trusts him. Bad appreciates the gesture, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have concerns about the whole thing. He is a lot more dangerous in this form, even when he has all his mental faculties intact. He voices this to Skeppy, but the younger man only rolls his eyes and shuffles so that even more of himself is pressed into the demon’s lap. 

“You worry too much,” Skeppy says lackadaisically. “I’m not scared of you.” 

“ Maybe you should be, though. ” Bad mutters, the sadness in his voice making Skeppy look up at him worriedly. 

“Is that why you didn't tell me about this form?” Skeppy asks, voice hushed to accommodate for this new, delicate atmosphere in the room. Bad nods, not looking at his friend. 

“ I didn't want to scare you off, ” Bad admits quietly. “ You weren’t ever supposed to find out, but I was careless. I had been doing so well at keeping it hidden for so long… I lost track of when it was supposed to happen.” 

“Nothing you do could scare me off,” Skeppy says with a frown, adjusting in Bad’s lap so they’re face-to-face. Skeppy grabs Bad’s index finger and drags it down to his chest. Bad lets him. “I’m in it for the long haul,” Skeppy says, face uncharacteristically serious. Once again, if Bad was able to cry, he would be weeping right now. 

The two of them sit like that for a while, Skeppy holding Bad’s hand close to his chest, pressed against the demon, like he hadn't hurt the human only a few hours ago. Eventually, Bad breaks the comfortable silence. 

“ Would you mind if I took this form more often. It can be… uncomfortable to constantly be in a smaller form. It feels like my skin is too tight if I’m in it for too long.” Bad asks tentatively. He will, of course, oblige if Skeppy is uncomfortable with it. He wouldn’t blame him, though he would be disappointed. 

“Dude, of course I don't mind!” Skeppy says, as though the answer was obvious. “I would never want you to do something that makes you uncomfortable! And besides-” He tacks on with a teasing smirk. “It kind of makes me feel like a badass to have a twelve-foot tall, demonic best friend.” 

“ Language. ” Bad admonishes gently as he lies down on his back, adjusting the both of them so that Skeppy is lying on his stomach, his face tucked into the space between his shoulder and neck. 

Skeppy sighs in relaxation, his cool breath tickling the short fur on Bad’s neck. 

“You run hot,” Skeppy says distantly. Bad hums in agreement, too comfortable to bother coming up with a real answer. He runs a gentle hand down Skeppy’s back, careful to avoid the fresh bandages. This goes on for several seconds before Skeppy starts trembling under Bad’s touch, making him snap to attention, worried he had hurt or scared his friend somehow. When he looks down at Skeppy, however, he sees that the human is merely holding back peals of laughter. Relief washes over Bad, enough that he can hold off being annoyed at being laughed at. 

“Were you petting me?” Skeppy asks, the laughter he had been trying to repress showing in his voice. Bad would be bright red if he was a human right now. 

“ No.” He lies. Skeppy just breaks down into giggles again, putting his head down on Bad’s chest.
“You totally were!” Skeppy says.

“ I wasn’t thinking! ” Bad groans. 

After a few minutes, Skeppy gets bored of teasing  Bad for petting him like a cat, and his eyes land on Bad’s horns instead.

“Can I touch your horns?” Skeppy asks, eyes bright with curiosity. Bad hums his assent and tilts his head downwards so the human won’t have to strain himself to reach.
“ Just don't touch the tips,” Bad says, drawing a chuckle from Skeppy. Bad lifts his head again, brows furrowing in confusion.
“ What?” He asks, squinting suspiciously at Skeppy’s amused face. “ The points are sharp and I don't want you to cut your hand.” 

“Nevermind,” Skeppy says, reaching up to prod at Bad’s horns again. Bad ducks his head obediently. 

Skeppy runs gentle fingers along Bad’s horns, humming in fascination. Bad’s head dips more, eager for the feeling. 

“Oh!” Skeppy says, sounding pleasantly surprised. Bad binks open his eyes. “They’re felted like a baby deer! That’s kind of adorable.” Skeppy says. Bad registers that his friend is trying to tease him, but he is still running a hand over his horns, so he doesn't have a lot of brainpower to come up with a retort right now, he just hums in response instead.

Skeppy seems to notice the fact that Bad is trying to become a puddle in his arms, and chuckles a bit.
“Does it feel good?” he asks, the teasing lilt to his voice still present. Bad makes a sound that could be seen as a yes.
“ Soothing. Like how it would feel to have your hair braided.” Bad tries to explain. He doesn't think the analogy is very good, as he doesn’t have enough hair to braid, but it’s what he imagines it to feel like. Skeppy doesn't say anything, but he brings up another hand so he can pet two of Bad’s horns at once. Bad makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat, and it is only when Skeppy starts laughing quietly that he opens his eyes.
“ What? ” Bad asks, a bit annoyed that the petting had stopped. 

“You're purring, ” Skeppy says, his eyes warm despite the amusement in his voice. Bad only has a second to feel embarrassed before Skeppy carries on. “Why didn't you tell me demons are basically just overgrown cats?” 

“ Hush,” Bad mutters, though there’s no heat behind it. Skeppy reaches up for Bad’s horns again, and they lay like that for a while. 

Until Bad smells smoke, his senses stronger than they would normally be. Bad jumps of the bed immediately.
“ Shoot! ” He says loudly, the closest he is going to get to cussing. Skeppy falls off of Bad and onto the floor, and Bad grabs the back of his hoodie and hoists him up before speeding off to the kitchen. He throws his oven mitts on in record time, before remembering that they don't fit him at all. He has a moment of panic before realizing that his threshold for heat is much, much higher than any human’s, and the oven mitts are mostly for Skeppy’s sake. 

He throws the oven open and pulls out the forgotten mutton chops, now resembling the remains of a campfire more than any edible food. Bad only has a moment to be annoyed at the wasted meat before he hears Skeppy laughing beside him. Bad looks over to see his friend dangling in the air by his hood. In his panic to stop any potential housefires, Bad had forgotten to put Skeppy down after picking him up, his friend’s weight against his true form’s impressive strength so little that he hadnt noticed it. Bad wants to apologize, but Skeppy’s laughter is infectious, and before he knows it, the two of them are lying on the kitchen floor, doubled over with peals of laughter. 

Once their mutual giggle fit has died down, Skeppy suggests they just go out and steal food from someone. He also suggests pranking people with Bad’s true form. Normally, Bad would object to this vehemently, but he is feeling particularly mischievous tonight. He is going to choose to blame this on his true form affecting his mind, but he and Skepppy both know he loves pranks just as much as the next person, as long as he isn't the target. 

“ That sounds like fun,” Bad says, and Skeppy lets out a delighted whoop, pumping his fist into the air. 

The heat coming off of the furnace, nor the fact that he is Nether-born has anything to do with the warm feeling curling in Bad’s chest.

Chapter Text

    Quackity is a bit of a night owl. He always had been, even when he was very young, reading comics under the blankets, hiding books under his pillow when his mom would come in to check on him. That habit of staying up late never left him, which is why he is alone in a forest at night, chopping wood. 

Normally, he would have taken back up, someone to watch his back for creepers that wandered a little too close, but no one had wanted to go with him, all saying it was stupid to go to the forest at night. Well jokes on them, he’s not sharing the wood he gets. Quackity huffs a bit in exertion as he drives his ax into the trunk of a towering spruce tree, wiping his brow as he watches it fall. 

The tree smashes into the forest floor with a satisfying thud, sending pine nettles flying up into the night air. One of them gets in his mouth, he ducks his head to spit it out with a quiet huff of disgust. Had his friends been here, he would have played up the moment, but alas. 

When he raises his head again, his eyes meet two white glowing dots in the treeline. He immediately shoots his gaze down to the mulched leaves, cursing quietly. An enderman, certainly. Nothing else had eyes like that. Well, besides Ranboo, but his distinct coloring ruled him out. 

He brings out his sword slowly. He doesn't know if he held eye contact long enough with the creature to provoke it, but he’s not taking chances. Slow, deliberate steps crunch in the leaves, walking directly towards him. Quackity keeps his gaze trained on the ground, eyes twitching with the urge to look up. 

He closes his eyes. 

Whatever is walking towards him is too heavy to be an enderman. 

Quackity’s gaze snaps up at the realization and he stumbles backward at the sight he is met with. A creature the likes of which he has never seen before in his life stands with its face inches away from his. It has huge white eyes that cover the majority of its face, and spiraling horns that curve up and into the darkened sky. Quackity steps back, but is swiftly knocked to the ground by the creature, pinning him to the forest floor easily with a massive paw to his chest. Quackity wheezes at the pressure, clawing at the paw desperately before it manages to suffocate him. As soon as the pained sound leaves his mouth the pressure lets up, and the creature is barely holding him down. Of course, there is still no way for Quackity to get up, but he is no longer in danger of having his chest caved in. Quackity reaches for his sword, but the creature bats it away with its free hand. 

Quackity makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat that he will never, ever admit to, as he stretches out to reach for it. The creature increases the pressure on his chest, ever so slightly, and Quackity freezes, not wanting to prompt the creature into crushing the life out of him. The creature leans in so that its face is only inches away from Quackity’s, and the young man tenses in preparation to have his throat torn out or his face ripped off or something, but when the creature opens his mouth, it isn't to bite into him. 

“ You need to stop swearing so much, you muffinhead .” The creature says in a voice that is much deeper and more echoey than he is used to, but still familiar. Quackity stiffens.
“ BAD?! ” He shrieks disbelievingly, his struggling starting up once again. The creature- Bad lets go of him, rearing up onto his hind legs and throwing his head back in laughter. Quackity sits up and shuffles backward, out of Bad’s reach. Now that the panic has receded slightly he can see Skeppy sitting on Bad’s back like a knight on a particularly uptight horse, looking more pleased than he had any right to be. 

“But- what?- how did you- how? ” Quackity finally manages to choke out, legs still too shaky from residual adrenaline to even try standing up. Bad cackles wickedly, or at least as wickedly as Bad is capable of cackling. Skeppy is laughing too, and if Quackity wasn’t the target of the joke he knows he would be too. 

“ HA- ” Bad chokes out, voice echoing unnaturally. “ Gotcha!” 

The confusion, while still very prevalent in Quackity’s mind, clears slightly to make way for annoyance that he had been pranked. By Bad, of all people. 

“ Oh, that was beautiful,” Bad sighs blissfully, wiping away a fake tear with a long claw. “ Do you wanna know what the best part is, Quackity?” Bad asks, and Quackiy is immediately set back on edge by the mischief in his tone.
“...What?” He asks hesitantly. 

“ No one will ever believe you.” Bad whispers, and with that, he is bounding off into the woods, Skeppy letting out a victorious whoop from his friend’s back. Quackity stares after them, blinking quickly.

“What the fuck.”