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DogDay is sick. That's the sad thing about still being mostly human; he can get sick.
And DogDay is sick.
He was fine, teaching, felt bad but continued. Then when it was recess, inside with all the other Critters besides CatNap, Hoppy, and KickinChicken, he was relaxing. Told the others he didn't feel good and to, “please not expect anything”, and, “sorry if I throw up”. Which they all said was fine; they’d help him. They didn't mind, not like it was often any of the Critters got sick, anyway.
All it was, DogDay tells himself, is bad timing. That moment CatNap rushed in and he threw up was bad timing… Really, it was probably the strong mixture of smells and adding lavender to the pile overdid it. That's probably it, really, truly, but DogDay will continue to blame bad timing to make sure CatNap doesn't feel worse than they do about the situation.
Because he won't let his baby feel bad about something that was, technically, their fault.
(Leaning on his chair, cold towel over his head, he listens to everyone softly talk. Bobby took his temperature and it's a bit high, so she's forcing him to rest, and also is going to get KickinChicken to substitute for him so he can go lay down.
He would argue, but he knows better than to argue with her motherly instincts. He tried before. He lost. Despite being a year older than her, she was scary, so he avoids upsetting her.
God, though, the amount he smells is making him nauseas. “Hey, guys?—” DogDay takes the towel off his head, and he watches the group look at him. “I'm really sorry if I end up puking. All the smell is nauseating.” He murmurs, and he watches Bubba’s facial expression change.
“No, no, you’re okay. You're still a child,” the forty year old says, and DogDay raises a brow, being in his twenties, “so it's okay. Do you want me to walk you back to your room?”
DogDay lays his head back down, toes curling. “I should be fine. Thank you, though.” He softly speaks, and Bobby makes a noise. A noise that makes him freeze.
“Are you sure?”
Bobby and Bubba are two people DogDay would rather not argue with. Not because he hates arguing, but because they're both parents. Both of them know how to dig into him to get what they want him to do, like lay down, drink water, and “by God DogDay you're hyper fixating on studying this new scientific report you stole from Pierre and it's been twelve hours since you last ate or drank either get something or else we’ll force you” as they whack him over the head with said stack of papers.
“Yes, mom, I’m fine—”
Suddenly, the door is open and another damn smell enters his nose, but unlike the others who kept their distance, it's right beside him, and he feels CatNap’s tail wrap around his hand—
He buckles over and throws up, with CatNap making an extremely panicked noise.
God, his throat burns.
God, he hates being sick.)
“Are you sure he isn't dying??”
And now, back at home, DogDay only vaguely listens to CatNap as they’re interrogating Bubba and Bobby. Bobby sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose as CatNap makes some more crying-whining-whimpering noises. “I’m fine, Kitty, just sick.” DogDay replies, scrunching his nose up at the medicine Bubba hands him. CatNap seems to tear at their hair, ears flat, long tail puffed up. DogDay isn't really sure if they're so freaked out because they're dating him and is seeing this sickness as some kind of “end all” to DogDay or if they’d be like this anyway, but he would rather not dwell on those thoughts.
“We don't get sick! We aren't human! We don't even have organs!”
Okay, the first two sentences DogDay gets. CatNap's been here for about two years, and the worst someone has been, as in how sick one of the Critters specifically has gotten, hasn't caused them to throw up. Maybe feeling like it, but they haven't.
But that last sentence?
“... CatNap. We have organs.” DogDay speaks, and CatNap shakes their head no. “Yes we do, Kitty. That's why we eat . Because we have stomachs. That's why we bleed. Because we have a heart ”
“Nuh-uh. They're fake!” CatNap hisses back, and Bobby pulls CatNap back, her arms hooking under their elbows for a better grip on them. “The Angel told me so! They told me that all my organs were replaced with copies!” CatNap rips themselves away from Bobby's hold, hopping onto DogDay’s bed and getting close to his face—that fucking lavender smell again, god damn—and stares at DogDay with narrowed eyes. “What did the staff do to you? That's the only solution!”
DogDay… sighs. Bubba and Bobby both look like they're about to play security guard and throw CatNap out of the room, so he nods at the door. “I'll deal with CatNap myself, you guys are free. Go.” The two blink, look at each other, and Bubba grabs Bobby's wrist and leads her away, leaving CatNap and DogDay alone. DogDay motions to the chair in his room. “Please, get away from me, right now lavender is not helping me at all.” DogDay murmurs, and CatNap, thankfully, oblige; plopping onto the chair.
Well. On the armrest, but on the chair.
Now, how the fuck does he explain sickness to someone that can't get sick?—... Well. He should probably start with 1006.
“Kitty, what did 1006 say about you? Your organs are fake?” He asks, watching CatNap nod quickly. DogDay sighs, kissing any chance to get some sleep goodbye. CatNap may hate bothering people, but they hate being in the dark more, and clearly, this is something CatNap doesn't understand.
To get sleep, he needs to get rid of CatNap.
To get rid of CatNap, he has to explain that he’s still partially human, and because he's still partially human, he can get sick like all other humans.
To explain being partially human, he has to get CatNap on the same page—which, all in all, means he has to dance with the idea that 1006 somehow ruined CatNap's body. And that's not a fun thought. “Okay, but you have to understand that 1006 made you, and the staff made us. We were created by separate beings, separate people. Do you know exactly what 1006 did to you? What are your organs made of?” He asks, grabbing the glass of water on his bed and downing it, but looking back at CatNap, he stops. CatNap's face is extremely pale, and their claws are gripped into the armchair, the fabric ripping up due to the sharp black claws. The white pupils in their eyes are small, eyebrows knit, and he can't see the bottom of their face thanks to the gas mask.
They’re scared. Scared by the question.
DogDay gets up, slowly walking forward and wills himself to ignore the strong smell of CatNap, looking at them with concern as CatNap looks away. “Do… Do I have to answer?” They whisper, shaking in place, voice hushed and whimpering.
“Do you want to?” Answering with a question. DogDay does that a lot, usually a way to make a child more comfortable, letting the kid know that they don't have to answer the question, putting that choice in the child’s hands. CatNap blinks before rapidly shaking their head no, and DogDay nods. “Okay, then we don't have to talk about it.” He whispers, reaching up and ruffling the purple locks on their head and kissing their temple softly, attempting to comfort them and making a mental note to talk with 1006. That's not a normal reaction for CatNap. Being terrified—he has never seen that from CatNap, not once. He pulls away, deciding to just end the conversation and say fuck it and go to sleep. CatNap grips his hand, following him back to his bed, but DogDay can't find it in himself to care as he curls up in his bed, the black and gold blanket comfortable but the strong smell of vanilla and lavender still makes him sick.
Stupid nose.
Stupid senses.
Fucking him over.
CatNap seems to look around, standing up and dusting their hands off, ears flat as they look at him. “Do you at least need anything so I can help you?” CatNap quietly asks, and DogDay grunts, moving so he isn't facing CatNap anymore.
“Unless you're gonna be in a sexy nurse outfit, no, I don't need anything.”
“Sexy… Nurse outfit? Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
The sound of a shutting door; DogDay blinks.
CatNap's not gonna be able to find that down here, he tells himself, CatNap physically cannot be in a sexy nurse outfit. Those don't exist down here.
But the thoughts and images keep him company as he attempts to sleep.
.
.
.
.
“But DogDay said—”
“CatNap, oh my god, if you say “sexy nurse outfit” one more time I am going to scream.”
Bobby stares up at CatNap, face laced with concern. She saw CatNap in a tree, looking solemn, so she went over to see what was wrong. And knowing it was trying to figure out where to get this type of outfit was it. That's what they're so concerned about. Finding it.
Wearing it.
“CatNap, I’m saying this as someone that has a son,” or, well, had, but she doesn't mention it, “you are too young to know what that is or wear it.” Bobby explains, crossing her arms at them. CatNap freezes in place, more than likely processing the information given, before their ears move to the side.
“I'm an adult!” They argue back, and Bobby shakes her head, disagreeing. “I am! The Angel told me I am!”
“Are you under twenty five?” It's a simple question, and CatNap slowly nods. “Then you're still a child, CatNap. The human brain stops developing during mid to late twenties, and if you're under twenty-five, then, sweet little lavender baby, you're a child.” She snaps at them, a quiet huff leaves CatNap as they cross their arms angrily before their ears slowly raise. Bobby knows that if they ask the others, they’ll tell them, “no, you're over eighteen, so you're an adult”, but for now it's a good enough excuse to not explain this stuff to someone with a child-like mentality. Because that's where she draws the line. CatNap groans, hitting their forehead to the branch.
“So how am I supposed to make DogDay feel better?” CatNap whines, drawing their voice out as Bobby softly sighs, crossing her arms as she watches CatNap limbs dangle from the tree, resting their chin on the branch they were laying on. “That's the one thing he said. Sexy nurse outfit or nothing.” They once again whine, pupils slowly looking over at her. Bobby's lips from a straight line as she stares at them, weighing her options internally before she sighs.
“Okay. Fine. We’ll do something kind of like that. We’ll wing it.” She grumbles, crossing her arms as they shoot up, tail raising and curling around, happiness in their eyes. “Okay? We’ll make it ourselves. CraftyCorn is going to end up being our best friend…”
“So we can put me in—”
“CatNap. Say those words one more time and I’m gonna ground you. I’ll get Bubba to ground you. I’ll get 1006 to ground you. I'll get the staff to ground you. You will be grounded.”
CatNap jumps down off the tree, tackling Bobby in a tight hug. Bobby sighs, running her fingers through their hair as they follow her out of the park, gently holding her hand. Going to CraftyCorn’s orphanage and telling herself to make sure not to say those three words when any kids are present.
And when they get there, getting into CraftyCorn's room for privacy, Bobby takes a breath to explain—
“CraftyCorn, do you have a sexy nurse outfit?”
—but CatNap beats her to it.
“CatNap!”
CraftyCorn chokes on her water, harshly coughing as CatNap tilts their head at Bobby. It's evident with the look in their eyes they still don't understand fully, and that's frustrating them, but Bobby cannot care less. “Wait, what? Why are we putting—? You know what. This is DogDay's fault, right?” She mutters, tail swishing, and Bobby nods slowly, leading to CraftyCorn groaning and rubbing her face as things levitate around, magic from CraftyCorn invisible to everyone's eyes. “Let me see if I can get something created. Not like I have anything better to do.” She mutters with a red face, a measuring tape going around CatNap as they squeak, jumping in place before their eyes fill with fascination and begin playing with the measuring tape, a soft laugh leaving CraftyCorn. “Go grab the others. Making an outfit like this is going to take a lot of hands… As well as keeping this one still enough to measure.” CraftyCorn murmurs, and Bobby dutifully nods, patting CatNap's head.
“Okay, then I’ll be right back. Just keep them busy.” She speaks, quickly leaving and deciding to not grab Bubba for this activity.
If she hates this, he surely will, also.
She does, however, go to KickinChicken, PickyPiggy, and Hoppy. The three were hanging out and helping some kids with lessons they didn't understand, and it was easy to let them go have fun. Just a quick dismissal, and Bobby looks them in the eyes;
“DogDay told CatNap that he didn't want help from them unless they’re in a sexy nurse outfit. CraftyCorn needs help making it.”
KickinChicken snorts, quickly falling back and laughing his ass off as Hoppy chokes. PickyPiggy, however, quickly stands up. “Nope, nuh-uh,” PickyPiggy shakes her head, “not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Are you actually going to allow CatNap to do something like that? I thought DogDay knew better. That rat.” She growls as KickinChicken finally sits up after his fit, taking his gas mask off as more soft laughter leaves him. He jabs Hoppy with his elbow and leans on the desk as Hoppy looks away.
“I… I'm with PickyPiggy on this one. It’s weird that we’re doing this…” Hoppy trails off, and the smile on KickinChicken's face is replaced with a scowl.
“What? CatNap’s old enough to wear one. You guys just see them as a child due to how they act.” KickinChicken mutters, eyes narrowing as he looks at the two beside him. “I guess it's a matter of morality. How old is CatNap anyway, almost twenty? Literally like two days away from turning twenty? DogDay is twenty-five. So, is it wrong? No. Not necessarily. But you add their childlike antics into this and suddenly—” KickinChicken waves his arms in the air in a frantic manner, “—everyone is rioting! You people didn't say shit when DogDay told us he was going to ask CatNap out, but by God he says something like that to CatNap. They're both adults, one just doesn't understand. That's an easy fix with this thing called teaching, you ever heard of it? I'm sure DogDay's willing to teach them everything. I knew the dude in college. He always asked before even touching his brother for physical contact. Even asked for permission for hugs.” He mutters as he leans over to Hoppy, and Hoppy sighs as she looks away.
Matter of morality, huh?...
PickyPiggy decides not to join, wanting to not get involved as Bobby leads KickinChicken and Hoppy straight to CraftyCorn and CatNap, who’s playing with string.
Because of course they are. Why wouldn't they? Why wouldn't they play with a single piece of string that's dangling from CraftyCorn's work table, as CraftyCorn watches interest, her head tilted to the side. Upon seeing everyone, she smiles, beginning to work and measure CatNap's body to make everything fit as Hoppy gathers all the necessary material.
Learning how to sew was always on Bobby’s agenda, she just never thought it’d be this way, making this type of outfit. While she, CraftyCorn, and Hoppy worked, KickinChicken kept CatNap occupied and played with them—a game he called risk, he’d lightly slap CatNap gas mask or lightly punch them on the head as CatNap tried to scratch him, which suddenly explained the amount of scars on his arms as the name risk was very much true—and would stop the game when they needed CatNap to try clothes on.
It took five hours of teamwork to get an outfit made. Which was pretty good timing, CraftyCorn said, and now Bobby watches Hoppy take the clothes and shove CatNap into the bathroom. “Hey, ‘Corn,” KickinChicken suddenly says as he looks at her, “you're the tallest one in the room… Do you have something to cover ‘Nap up for now-?”
“Oh! Good idea!”
She marches into her closet and digs around, pulling out a jacket coated in paint, and walks to her bathroom door, opening it slightly for the jacket to be grabbed.
Thankfully, when the door opens, CatNap walks out wearing the jacket. “Okay, go to DogDay.” KickinChicken says with a smirk. “God I wish I could see his reaction. Bet it’d be priceless.” He cackles, and Hoppy puts a hand on CatNap's shoulder, smiling weakly.
“Please make sure there's no kids and… Lock the door.”
.
.
.
“Mr. DogDay’s sick right now, he's in his room.”
CatNap strolls over to the door and knocks, rocking back and forth on their heels as a come in is spoken, so they happily march in. DogDay's gas mask is off and he sluggishly sits up. CatNap blinks, never having really seen DogDay without a shirt before, and instead of his usual greeting, DogDay skips it. “What’s up?” He mutters, and CatNap's ears flatten. “... What?”
“No hi?”
And DogDay sighs. “Hi, Kitty. What's up?” Still, not good, but better.
“I did it! I did what you asked!” CatNap chirps, and DogDay blinks a bit before his brows knit, looking at his blanket before slowly back up at CatNap. “... The sexy nurse outfit?” CatNap reminds him and DogDay chokes, a weak smile on his face seen.
“What?” He manages as CatNap promptly locks the door and struggles with the jacket before letting it fall to the floor. “My fucking God-”
CatNap twirls, the bottom having something like a skirt, and faces DogDay. “Tada! Bobby, Hoppy, CraftyCorn, and KickinChicken worked on it! Do you feel better?” CatNap tilts their head, and DogDay sucks a breath in.
“Yeah. Totally. Absolutely. Not even feeling sick anymore, c’mere, Kitty.” DogDay chokes out, and CatNap happily follows the rules, plopping onto the bed only to be brought onto DogDay's lap, which is confusing to CatNap, as earlier he didn't want CatNap this close. He seems to hesitate, not really knowing where to touch or hold CatNap, and he slowly, gently, puts his hands to CatNap's thighs and looks up at CatNap. CatNap only gives a nod of approval, feeling DogDay squeeze their thighs, and DogDay moves one hand up their body to the base of their neck and pushes them closer to his chest, and CatNap raises their hands to cup his face—
“You're burning up.”
“Ignore it.”
CatNap is silent for a heartbeat.
“Why a sexy nurse?”
“Don't matter. You're here now looking like this and I’m not focusing on being sick. Making me feel really nice looking at you, Kitty.” He whispers, once again squeezing CatNap's thigh, and they let their tail wrap around DogDay's wrist, securing his hold. “I’ll feel good as long as you stay right here.” CatNap giggles at that, moving to fully relax on DogDay's chest, tracing the spots of vitiligo.
“I never planned on leaving.”