Chapter Text
Becoming a skeleton isn’t the worst thing that’s happened to you.
However, you greatly protest becoming Ink’s newest fascination.
The tell-tale drip of Ink’s arrival is all the warning you get before the demon himself reforms on the pristine tile of your home lab, staining the soft blue with black ink.
You drag a hand down your face as the man flounces across the floor with his usual beam. Every footstep leaves a footprint and mushy noise like a stamp. You feel the headache that follows Ink begin to grow behind your eyes as you imagine the hernia the new mess will give your housekeeper.
“Sci, number thirty-one!” Ink sing-songs. You lean away from him. “How are you, my newest and most long-lasting scientist!”
You grimace at him, your tiredly lidded eyes gracing his pointed face. “Horrible, now that you’re here.”
Ink giggles in the same fashion as a young girl. You shudder a little. “Oh stop it, you.” He fans his hand at himself. “Your attitude is just as cool and aloof as I remember!”
“Please,” you cut short whatever nonsense might fall forth from his tongue. “Please, just tell me what you want. You said you’d give me two weeks of off-time, without bothering me at all.” There is a trace of misery in your voice.
Your ‘employer’ adopts a facsimile of a frown, placing his hands on his hips. “I did say that, but this is actually really important!”
You feel dread creeping along your back as you stare up at him from your chair.
“You!” He pokes your forehead, pushing back your head a little. Your expression scrunches. “You haven’t left the building at all since I gave you your break!” He exclaims. The shapes in his eyes spin counterclockwise. “So we’re going to go out, and you’re going to see the outside for at least an hour before I let you back in the building!”
You press your mouth into a thin line before conceding. “I guess it has been a week or so since my break began.” Ink’s expression lights up. Suns and stars shine in his eyes, set in darkness like two garnets. You feel briefly confused at the way this makes him so happy.
“But don’t make me talk to anyone, I’m bad at talking to people.” His expression does not falter.
“I’d never!” Ink lies, to your face. You palm his face with your hand and push it away from yourself, standing up in a smooth motion, looking down at Ink. You casually wipe the hand you touched his face with on your lab coat while you speak.
“You’re going to introduce me to at least five people before I get exhausted and run away.” You predict. You organize some of the blueprints on your desk before Ink can get distracted by them. “This is going to be even worse than just having you and my housekeeper know I even exist.”
Ink shrugs, smiling guilelessly. “It will probably be worse for you.” He admits without a shred of guilt. “But at least you won’t spend the day in the same spot every day, in a dimly lit room, working each day away until you dust!”
You wrinkle your face at him again, knowing he’s right, before striding towards the elevator leading back up to the house. Ink gleefully prances alongside you, chattering about where you both can go, and what places you need to see. “You’d probably like Outertale a lot, but we should do that one last.”
He nearly slips on the puddle he made getting in before you catch him with a hand on his back. Ink plays up a damsel in distress voice as you rise up to the ground floor.
“Oh Sci,” Ink sighs dreamily. “If only you weren’t a total shut-in! You’d do so well as a knight in shining armor, or something. Become a superhero with me! They love tall guys who are stoic and mysterious!” He nudges you with his sharp elbow.
You flick his skull, leaning against one of the banisters while the elevator shudders. Ink rubs the spot you flicked with a pout, though one of his eyes remains a happy yellow. “I’d really rather not.” You dryly reply. “Saving people isn’t my thing, especially because I have to get directly involved with them.”
Ink sticks his multi-colored tongue out at you as the doors open. “You’re just like Error!” He pouts. “Both of you are such shut-ins!” You walk around the couch and the freshly vacuumed rug, briefly picking up Ink to keep him from staining the carpet before putting him back down again as you make your way to the kitchen. This happens regularly when Ink comes over.
“I don’t see the issue with it.” You pour a glass of water from the fridge before Ink opens the doors to stick his head in and grab a nice refrigerated cup of pen ink. You watch dispassionately as he pours the thick fluid into his mug (once one of your numerous plain white cups before Ink smeared his grubby fingerprints all over it) and drinks the tar with a greedy smile. Your stomach roils. Whatever you were going to say immediately evaporates in your mouth watching Ink happily guzzle pen ink.
“When did you put that in my fridge,” you manage after Ink is halfway through his mug. The shorter man takes a moment to remember and pops his mouth when he’s done thinking. “About a week or two ago!” The two of you have a staring contest.
Eventually, you break off, shaking your head while Ink snickers. “That means you either haven’t been eating or you’re just as observant as I am.” He points out. “Even though I don’t eat, I’m pretty sure monsters like you still need food.”
You give him a side-eye as you finish off the cup and rinse it, before sticking it in the dishwasher rack to dry. “Take me somewhere to eat, then. You have to pay.”
It was a joke. Ink gasps and asks if you were asking him out.
The two of you had bickered a bit over where to go eat before finally settling on an Italian restaurant neatly settled on the Surface timeline of some cyberpunk-inspired AU. You had spent an embarrassing amount of time drooling over the gadgets and technology before Ink dragged you away to the table, ordering off of a strangely solid hologram menu. You fold up your own menu and hide it in your inventory with an impassive face. There was nothing wrong with taking home souvenirs.
“Oh, you must be Sci!” A skeleton in casual clothing approaches the table, wearing a thin yellow circlet. You nod at him, though you feel a little bit confused as to how he knows who you are. You guess that Ink probably talks about you with his friends. Maybe this is one of them.
“That’s me.” You confirm. “I assume you’re a friend of Ink’s?”
Ink had left a few minutes ago to take a call or something. You spy the phone in the stranger’s hand and distantly curse Ink’s name. “Correct!” He cheers. “I’m Dream.”
He seats himself at the table. “What are you ordering?”
“Pasta.” You shrug. “I don’t normally eat out, so I don’t know what most of these are.”
Dream makes a sympathetic noise. "I normally cook at home, so we're in the same boat. Do you cook?"
"Not really." You wryly answer. "I burnt soup last time. I usually eat TV dinners. Microwavable frozen food."
Your new acquaintance gives you a pitying expression before Ink plops down in his seat. "Hellooooo!"
"Who else did you ask to come?" You immediately poke. Ink looks sheepish as he answers. "Um… like two or three more people. I doubt one of them will show up."
Your expression is deadpan enough for Ink to chortle while Dream looks on in familiar exasperation.