Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You felt you were doing fine in life: you had a decent job, lived in a nice duplex... The works. Sure, you were a bit of a recluse, but hey, you minded your own business and paid your taxes, so who cared?

The answer was you. You cared. Because as hard as you worked, it didn't stop the loneliness from creeping in at night when you came home from work to dead silence. Your friends suggested hobbies. Gardening, knitting, aerobics, and such.

But you wanted a companion to fill the silence.

And that was how you found 'Itsy Bitsy Bitties'.

***

If you were being perfectly honest, you had only gone there with the intention of window shopping. You didn't know the first goddamn thing about bitties, and the playpens full of skeletons and spiders and little fire-people was overwhelming, to say the least.

"The Blossom line is popular lately," the bunny sales associate remarked as they walked you over to the flowers-with-faces section. "Lackadaisies are very beginner friendly."

They never commented on the cage tucked off to the side, far away from all the others and partially covered by a blanket near the counter with a 'Do Not Touch' sign.

***

"Pansies are good as well, very self conscious, but-"

"Oh, now isn't that something," a raspy voice snarked, interrupting them. "Another garbage human looking to adopt worthless trash."

You stared at the dull, yellow flower that spoke from the cage.

It stared back, its hollow eyes glowing with pinpricks of light and its smile twisted into something that could only be described as 'demonic'. 

"Let me show you the Rose Buddies instead," the sales associate said, visibly sweating as they dragged you towards a group of pink blossom bitties.

You pointed right at the little bastard. "I'll take that one."

***

There was a pause of silence as everybody processed the sudden words that came out of your mouth. Including you, because you sure as fuck didn't expect to say that.

It blinked at you in surprise, then hissed, "Excuse me!?"

"That's a Thorny. Don't pay him any mind: look at how well mannered these Rose Buddies can be! They're quite friendly," the bunny hurriedly told you.

You let them manhandle you towards the rose-like bitties, all of which were giving you polite, but eager smiles. As they chatted you up, you occasionally cast glances back at the lone, glowering flower.

***

When all was said and done and you were asked which 'new friend' had caught your eye, you said, "I want to know about the Thorny, please."

"They're from the new line of Blossom Bitties," you were told in a quiet hush. "Most are returned because they're so... Prickly. They're not good for first time bitty owners. That's the only one we have in stock because..."

Undeterred, you waited for the bunny Monster to finish their sentence.

"He... Doesn't like other bitties. He has to be kept separate."

"That shouldn't be a problem since I only plan to have one."

***

They continued to halfheartedly try to convince you to get a Rose Bud. Maybe even a Nemo! Did you know a Prince is the most popular bitty because they're so gosh darn cuuuuuute?  

You still insisted that you wanted the flower that was calling you every insult under the sun.

Maybe it was the fact he was trying so hard to scare you off. Maybe it was a stroke of pure, dimwitted whimsy. Or pity. Whatever it was, something told you to stick to your guns as the employee finally caved and helped you gather the necessary supplies for him.

***

The only thing that made you stop and think twice about adopting the bastard was the bill. You wouldn't have thought that magic dirt and extra durable flower pots would cost so goddamn much, but it did, and oh boy you felt the doubt creeping in as the price only got higher.

"I'm going to bankrupt you," the flower screeched the moment he caught onto your hesitance. "Financially corrupt you! I'll ruin everything you know and love!"

"Are you sure about this?" the employee asked as they cringed while all the other customers stared.

You handed them your credit card.

***

When the cash register was done beating the shit out of your finances, the bunny donned a pair of thick, heavy duty gloves and plucked a plastic carrier out from underneath the counter. You followed them to the cage and knelt down in front of it as the Thorny ducked behind the cover with a hiss.

"What's up, Buttercup?" you hummed and gently moved the sheet aside so you could see him better. "Looks like you'll be coming home with me."

"Fuck you," he spat and you could see thick vines covered in razor sharp thorns coil around him defensively.

***

It took some finagling for the employee to get the Thorny out. Each time they'd try to grab him, he'd slap their hands away with the vines. It was only when he was completely cornered when they managed to grab him and use their free hand to uproot him before transferring him over.

"I'm going to kill you," he snapped at you as he was settled into the carrier.

Oddly enough, it made you feel a bit more determined. Everybody seemed so nervous with him, so maybe he just needed a bit of tender love and care. 

"Sure thing, Buttercup."

***

By the time you left the shelter with your arms overloaded with bags, your new Thorny - now actually named Buttercup - fell into silence. Hanging his head as you began the trek home. You felt a pang of guilt, but the pamphlets and books on his bitty type made you confident that maybe you could make him the happiest motherfucking flower in New Newest Ebott.

When you made it to your quaint little duplex, he tipped his head to side-eye you. "You'll take me back in a week."

His voice sounded so resigned.

You promised yourself you wouldn't take him back.

Chapter Text

Buttercup was a beautiful flower.

With an emerald green stem, munsell yellow petals, and ruby red thorns, he struck a pretty picture. Until he'd turn to glower at you with an expression that would scare the hooves off Satan himself. 

The first day of him being with you was certainly interesting. From fits of rage fueled screeching, lashing vines, and vicious bites, he definitely made it clear that he wasn't fond of his new living arrangements in the slightest.

But when he'd suddenly go silent and hang his head tiredly, you couldn't help but feel sorry for the little guy.

***

‘Blossom Bitties are excellent choices for those who do not have an active lifestyle, but still wish for the companionship that only a Bitty can fulfill! From Pansies to Rose Buddies to Lackadaisies, this guide will help you to make your home a petal-friendly paradise!

You thumbed through the table of contents as you searched for the section for a 'Thorny'... The only thing you could find was a blurb in the 'Other' segment.

‘Some Blossom Bitties are experimental, such as the discontinued Trapper and Thorny breeds. Due to their aggressive natures, they're typically not found in standard adoption centers.’

***

None of your books had a section dedicated to the grumpy bastard that was now your housemate, and the only times you did find information on him, it was to say that he was pissy. Something you were well acquainted with when you set him up with his pot of magic dirt as he bit the ever loving shit out of you.

It was a head scratcher. As far as you understood from the books, most Blossom Bitties required the same thing: lots of sun, moderate amounts of water... Easy peasy.

He just required extreme amounts of patience as well. 

***

On day three, you had come home from work and found the majority of your living room was in shambles. The bitty's vines were extended from his pot's perch in the window sill, and you could see that his face was twisted into a malicious expression.

When he noticed you, he grinned mockingly. "Oops! I'm sorry. It was an accident."

Your first instinct was to be mad, but you managed to reel in your frustration with a sigh and hung your purse up. Be patient...

He looked surprised when you set to cleaning it up with a quiet, "It's okay."

***

On the fifth day, you discovered the internet wasn't all that helpful either as you browsed forums while Buttercup moped in his flower pot.

From: bbybleulver

does anybdy remember the thorn bitties??

From: aMamaBitty98

Yeah, those aggressive ones?

From: lostinthought

The adoption agency I worked at had to put ours down because they kept Dusting the other bitties. Idk why they were released to the public because they always got returned. They're banned in most places.

You frowned, though you could understand why they were banned as you recalled the way he had destroyed your living room with vindictive glee.

***

When you combed through the forums more, you only found more and more threads complaining about how mean a Thorny could be. From the looks of things, most people returned them when the bitty would attack them and they would be 'put down' for being too aggressive.

You chewed your lip and watched Buttercup shred a plush toy you had set beside him.

He was so certain that you were going to return him, but each time he lashed out, you only felt bad for him. You hoped he'd understand that really, all you wanted was to be his friend. 

***

It was day six where you got tired of him chucking his fertilization pellets back at you each time you'd try to water him.

"What can I do to make you more comfortable?"

"Hm. Fuck off," he cackled in response. "Do you really think there's anything that can make me feel better about being stuck with a pitiful, worthless meatsack like you ?"

"I don't know," you responded honestly. "Would you tell me if there was?"

That made him stutter to a halt, his expression twisted in confusion.

Eventually, he told you he preferred actual Monster food over the bland pellets.

***

"Hey, do you like... 'Cinanananimon Bunnies'?" you called over to your housemate later that day.

"It's 'cinnamon', dumbass," Buttercup retorted and he dragged his gaze away from the window to glare at you. "I don't know. What do your care pamphlets say?"

"Nothing-" You threw your hands into the air and accidentally chucked the package you were holding. 

There was a tiny snort of amusement as he watched you fumble to catch it and once you had it, you pulled a sugary bun free.

"Wanna try one?"

A vine swiped it from your hand the moment you finished your sentence.

***

When day seven rolled around, you had discovered that Buttercup liked sweet and savory foods, he preferred room temperature water, and wanted sunlight whenever the hell he felt like having sunlight. By that point, he had run out of insults to call you, but he made up for it with murderous stares and slaps that would leave your skin stinging for hours.

It felt like you were making progress though - the more you were around the hellion, the more you learned what made him tick. You knew it was going to be an ongoing process, but progress was progress, right?

***

"Why haven't you taken me back yet?"

The words were sudden and sharp, cutting through your nightly routine like a knife. It made you stop and blink at him owlishly.

You weren't sure what it was about the little flower that made you want the best for him. Nothing involving him had been easy, but you kept true to your personal promise - even when he did his best to make your life miserable. 

"You seemed like you needed a friend," you said without thinking.

He scoffed derisively, but the way he didn't snap back made you hope that he agreed.

Chapter Text

"So. What made an idiot like you decide to adopt a sentient pet that can kill you in your sleep?"

It had been two weeks since Buttercup was brought home. Things were still rocky, of course, but he was graaaadually  coming to terms with the fact you weren't giving up on being friends any time soon.

You stopped chopping onions and squinted at him with teary eyes as he casually inspected his leaves. "I wouldn't really call you a pet, but I guess I thought it'd be nice to have a companion to come home to."

"Gross. What's for dinner?"

***

Buttercup enjoyed poetry books and watching reality TV shows.

You had taught him how to operate the remote and got him an e-book reader in hopes that they could keep him entertained and prevent him from wrecking more furniture. By some miracle, it actually worked and he focused more of his time on those rather than breaking your stuff. There were still fits here and there, but you were overall happy with the conclusion: especially when you discovered he had taken to writing haikus.

You're an idiot

Go to the grocery store

We're out of hot dogs.

You loved them.

***

You fell into a new routine.

Wake up, get slapped for watering Buttercup, make breakfast, share breakfast with half-awake bitty, go to work.

You couldn't help but wonder how he was doing while you were mechanically going through your job. Was he doing okay? Did you leave him enough snacks? He wasn't trying to mix your cleaning supplies again, was he?

When you got home, it was; greet Buttercup, dodge slap, shower, make dinner, watch CSI reruns, get ready for bed, hope Buttercup doesn't murder you in your sleep.

He was still leery, but you were happy with his progress.

***

There were some days where Buttercup genuinely terrified you.

He’d be fine one moment: happily watching chaos go down on his favorite reality show. The next he would use his vines to slingshot himself across the room, his face twisted in fury as his thorny appendages lashed out at you.

"You really think you're something special, don't you?" He would mock in a voice that warbled between octaves. "How long is it going to take for you to break?"

The lacerations he'd leave behind always made you wonder if you were doing the right thing.

You had to be… Right?

***

Despite the ups and downs, you persevered and made it to week three.

He seemed more tired than anything now. More often than not, you would find him limply hanging his head as he sunbathed in the window sill, uninterested in his usual reading or TV shows. Even his slaps felt half-assed.

"Are you feeling okay?" you asked, afraid that he was getting sick. "I can call a doctor-"

He cut you off with a harsh whisper, "I’m fine. Why even bother dealing with me?"

"Because I want to help you, Buttercup. It’s what friends do," you gently told him.

***

I'll kill you someday

I don't know when, where, or how

But I swear I will.

You had come to look forward to the post-it notes containing death threats every morning. Which was weird when you stopped to think about it, but in regards to your housemate, you were starting to think "I'll kill you" was just a way for him to say "I appreciate you". 

Maybe? 

Hopefully.

Pick up some popcorn

There's nothing to snack on here

I will eat your face.

You didn't tell him that you were keeping each note in a shoe box under your bed.

***

You were beginning to wonder if Buttercup had ever been shown any form of kindness before.

I don't understand

Why are you so nice to me?

I hate you so much.

From how nervous the adoption center's employees acted to the forum posts bashing Thornies, it didn't seem like many people were in favor of him.

I can't understand

You should hate me, but you don't

Why are you like this?

The longer he was with you, the more you wanted to be the person who cared.

Why won't you hate me?

Everybody else hates me.

Please hate me, damnit.

***

One night, you went out drinking with your friends. You told Buttercup you would be home later than normal and that he shouldn't worry. He scoffed, of course, but didn't seem to mind.

Even when you were out having fun, you still found yourself worrying about the bastard and had a gut feeling that told you something wasn't right... You ended up calling it quits for the night after getting tipsy so you could go check on him. Better safe than sorry, right?

When you had made it to your doorstep, the knife pressed against your back begged to differ.

***

"Don't make a sound," a rough voice said behind you. "Open the door."

It took your tipsy brain a solid thirty seconds to comprehend the order, but when it finally got with the program, you fumbled to obey in stunned silence. The moment you managed to get it unlocked, you were pushed inside and once the door clicked shut, your only frightened, coherent thought was 'oh shit'.

"Don't fight," the intruder growled as they tugged at the back of your shirt. "If you scream, I'll slit your throat."

From across the room, you heard; "Oh. Is that so?"

Oooooh shit.

***

That was the night that you discovered Buttercup was protective to an excessive degree.

As soon as the bitty made himself known, thick vines had shot across the room, wrapped around the intruder, and slammed them around like a ragdoll. In fact, you had to get him to stop clobbering them before he murdered them in a fit of rage.

You definitely had a hard time explaining the incident to the police, but thankfully, the creep had been spotted scouting your home earlier that day and 'that was that'.

When you thanked your hero, he just snorted and demanded starfaits. 

Chapter Text

There was a noticeable shift in Buttercup after 'The Incident'. 

He slapped you less, only doing so when you really annoyed him. He let you pet his petals one (1) time. When you would awkwardly start conversations, he'd humor you a little more - though his responses were still... Interesting, to say the least.

"Do you think these spider donuts are actually made with spiders?"

"I hope so. I like the crunch of spider bitty legs."

He was definitely a murderous little psychopath, but hey, he was finally warming up to you. You could address the 'eating other bitties' thing later.

***

You got a phone call from 'Itsy Bitsy Bitties' two months into having Buttercup in your care.

"Our records show that you purchased a Thorny bitty from us a while ago," the voice drawled on the other side. "That was an accident. The new hire didn't know any better, really. He wasn't for sale, and we were wondering if you'd be willing to bring him back."

It was a surprise, but you politely declined and told them that they could have him back never. When they hinted that they really wanted you to bring him back, you kindly hung up.

***

Overheard the call

They wanted me to come back?

I'm. Glad? You said 'no'.

The flower bitty avoided looking at you after you found that particular haiku stuck inside the fridge. For once, he didn't question the reasoning behind your action and was content to just accept it for what it was. Though you couldn't help but wonder why you had gotten a call from the 'shelter' now of all times.

Not that it really mattered in the long term. You had no intention of ever giving him up, especially not when you were finally doing something right.

***

Time continued its trek forward.

Summer gave way to Fall, and you marked the five month anniversary of bringing Buttercup home on your calendar. The two of you grew more comfortable around each other: he had decidedly taken a chill pill and you didn't think he was going to murder you in your sleep anymore. He didn't mope in the window sill as much, and he had stopped taunting you about returning him to the shelter.

He barely had his emotional (and terrifying) outbursts anymore, and even when one happened, you always caught a regretful glint in his eyes afterwards.

***

The Thorny bitty woke you up one night by wrapping you up in his vines like a cocoon: startling you into consciousness thanks to the thorns jabbing your back. You blinked at him groggily, and he only stared back at you with a blank expression.

"I'm a killer," he deadpanned. "Did you know that? I've Dusted every other bitty I've encountered. I'll kill you too, someday."

You sleepily grumbled, "Just do it before my alarm for work goes off."

He didn't respond. You'd never know if it was because he had nothing to say, or because you fell back asleep.

***

Buttercup began making your lunches for work.

They started off simple. Just sandwiches made from random bits of food that he slapped together. You'd never forget how awful the peanut butter, mayo, and garlic abomination tasted, but you forced yourself to eat every bite. He tried and that's what mattered. It made you happy, even if it was disgusting.

Fortunately, he started finding recipes on the web and stepped up his game. Your coworkers were always jealous of the elaborate bento boxes he'd make you, though you couldn't figure out where he got the damn box in the first place.

***

The first night it started snowing outside, he picked up a fun (and cute) new habit. 

More often than not, he would uproot himself from his dirt and wrap himself up in your hair the moment you got home. He said your head was warmer than a measly pot of dirt, and that it was to get a better view of the TV. You doubted those were the real reasons, especially since you had dumped a buttload of money into getting him a fancy, heated flower pot, but you didn't complain as he took up the role of a headband.

***

The number of options for pasta was daunting sometimes.

You stood there in the noodle aisle of the grocery store. Praying. Hoping to god the one you needed would jump off the shelf and bitch slap you already. Buttercup specifically asked you to pick up rigatoni, but all you were seeing was motherfucking penne and if you grabbed the wrong one again, you were (vaguely) worried he might actually beat you to death with it-

"doughn't think too hard on the pastabilities there, lady," a gruff timbre chuckled beside you and a skeletal hand plucked up a box of macaroni.

***

You blinked at the stranger that just cracked puns at you, taking in the skeleton Monster's sharp-toothed grin, ruby red eyelights, and fur lined coat with the tact of a toddler. Then eloquently said:

"What?"

He snorted and dropped the macaroni into the basket hooked on his arm. In the fur of his hood, you saw a pair of teeny, cherry red eyes peek out at you. "sorry, i'm fresca out of puns. hope ya have a pici day though."

You just awkwardly gawked after him as he waved you off and sauntered away: leaving you to your fruitless search.

***

"What took you so long?" Buttercup muttered when you finally returned home with your purchases.

You pulled out the box of penne noodles to hold them up like a flimsy shield. He narrowed his eyes at you but remained silent as he waited expectantly for an answer. 

"All I could find was penne, but at least they're tubular this time?"

He let out a huff and swiped the box without further complaint to begin making dinner. 

And that was when you found the newest haiku.

This is hard to say

Thank you for bringing me home

You're, somehow, my friend.

Chapter Text

There was a chill that seeped into your bedroom one winter morning that made you want to stay curled up in bed. The munsell, yellow flower on your window sill unfurled his petals, stretching his leaves before he twisted his head to give you an unimpressed stare with his grey toned face. 

"It's going to rain. Again," Buttercup intoned neutrally, but you could tell from the way thorny vines peeked out of the dirt of his terracotta pot that there was a spike of irritation in his words. "Don't forget your umbrella today."

You smiled at how domestic it was.

***

"I need poppy seeds, turkey, swiss cheese, worcestershire sauce, and dijon mustard," Buttercup told you, though he was also smart enough to write that list down because you were dumb enough to forget. "If you can't find dijon mustard, then spicy brown mustard will suffice."

You nodded along and you had to wonder if you adopted a Thorny or a mother hen. No care pamphlet or online forum prepared you for this once you had finally gotten to a friendship status with the bastard.

"Wait!" You paused on your way out the door and he huffed, "Don't forget your umbrella."

***

Armed with your umbrella, you entered the grocery store expecting a perfectly normal and average experience. 

What you didn't expect was for some asshole to have completely wiped out the mustard section. Honey, dijon, regular, spicy brown: all of it. Gone. And you'd be a goner too if you didn't find a solution to this fast. 

As you searched the aisles for an employee, you ended up finding something else: the source of your current problem. 

A familiar skeleton bastard with two grocery carts overloaded with every bottle and jar of mustard in the whole goddamn store.

"Oh, you sonuvabitch."

***

As soon as the words tumbled out of your mouth, the skeleton turned to face you, his brows furrowed, but his shark-like mouth bared in an intimidating imitation of a grin. You would have been scared of his narrow eyed stare had you not built up a tolerance by dealing with Buttercup's mood swings.

"eeehh... care repeat that?" he chuckled and scratched his chin. "don't think i heard ya right."

"Are you really gonna be that person and hoard all of the mustard?" you snapped, already imagining your death if you came home empty-handed. "Don't be a dick, you dick."

***

It made him laugh and you watched him dip his hand into the hood of his jacket as if to pat something reassuringly. "must've been hard for a human like you to mustard up the courage to ketchup to me and say somethin', huh?"

The puns almost flew completely over your head, but when you noticed them, you almost threw your jar of poppy seeds at him. "Oh my god. You're not funny. Whatever, I just need a jar of dijon."

He placed his hands on his hips and scrutinized you. "i might give ya one... if ya ask nicely."

***

You glowered at him and his grin only grew more wicked: his gold tooth shining like an ominous 'fuck you' in the fluorescent light. It made you want to tackle him and you wondered just how much Buttercup was starting to rub off on you.

"Give me the fucking mustard or I'm going to shove my fist so far up your nonexistent ass that people are going to think you're my sock puppet."

That sent him into a fit of hysterical laughter, and he leaned on one of his carts as he tried to recover from your apparent comedic genius.

***

As he wheezed like a dying old man, his hood spoke to you, "J-just say please, you dumb bitch."

You had heard more impressive insults from Buttercup when he was half asleep, so you only gave the fur of his coat a dead eyed stare. "Please give me the fucking mustard or I'm going to shove my fist so far up your nonexistent ass that people are going to think you're my sock puppet."

The skeleton was practically in tears at this point, so you just shoved your hand in his cart, swiped the jar of dijon, and walked off.

***

You were squinting at your options for swiss cheese when something came up and bit your ankle. It startled you more than anything, especially since you had grown accustomed to getting bitch slapped into next century by Buttercup, so all you did was blink down at whatever the fuck just bit you.

A skeleton bitty with cherry red eyelights and a black hoodie glared up at you: shaking like a leaf and ready to burst into tears at any moment.

You looked around, very much confused. "Are you lost?"

"You- you should learn manners," he squeaked; prepared to bolt away.

***

You recognized the voice as the one that had come from the other skeleton's hoodie and put two and two together. The asshole had a bitty too? You supposed that wasn't too surprising.

"I said 'please'," you responded and grabbed a package of cheese. "Maybe don't hoard all of the mustard next time."

"eeey, lil buddy, where'd ya go?" you heard the skeleton call out from a few aisles down.

The bitty jumped and gave you another glare before he flipped you off and hurried away. You felt dead inside as you went to pay for your shit and leave.

***

When you got home, Buttercup was more than pleased to see you had found everything on your list. On the other hand, he zeroed in on the bite mark on your ankle like a fucking heat seeking missile and he stared at it for several long moments.

"What happened there?" he asked in a deceptively pleasant voice.

"That? It's no big deal. There was an asshole trying to hog the mustard to himself," you shrugged. "His friend got protective, but I barely noticed it, so whatever, right?"

"Riiight… 'Whatever'. No big deal."

His vines twitched irritably as he made dinner.

Chapter Text

Vines coiled around the back of your skull, and roots threaded through your hair to help Buttercup remain securely perched on top of your head. You sleepily hummed and opened an eye to see if the TV was still on, finding that Cutthroat Kitchen was still playing. Shifting, you propped your elbow on the arm of the couch to keep yourself from flopping over and squishing your bitty.

"You're gonna fuck up your back if you sleep on the couch," he muttered, but he was already dragging a blanket over you.

"Aw, you do care," you murmured.

He scoffed. "Idiot."

***

Burnt chicken nuggets

Are not a well balanced meal

How are you not dead?

You were definitely spoiled by his cooking now, though you were mostly just glad that he had picked up a hobby that didn't involve murdering or beating someone up. Even if he thought you were a terrible cook due to your occasional mishaps or when his haikus questioned your survival skills, it was worth seeing him make so much progress in being sociable. It was months of slow progress finally coming to fruition.

It made you wonder if he would tolerate other people someday as well.

***

Another week had passed, and it was, once again, time for you to hit up the grocery store to gather supplies for Buttercup's concoctions. You wouldn't normally think twice about it, but...

"I'm coming with you."

You had to actually do a double take, and when you saw the bitty was serious, you snorted, "Buttercup, you tried to beat the shit out of the mailman yesterday, you can't come to the store with me. Plus it's snowing. You'll freeze."

His face twisted into a demonic smile, and you think he hoped it would look 'innocent'. "I promise I'll be good."

***

You had never seen Buttercup so determined to leave the house before. 

He insisted that he wanted to go, promised he would be on his best behavior, swore that he was only curious! It instantly made you suspicious when you considered how the thought of dealing with people made him retch loudly in protest the week before. The only thing that made him give up was the prospect of dealing with the snow, but he certainly wasn't happy about it judging from the way he moodily hissed as you went out the door.

It was weird, but no big deal.

***

When you entered the store, you were bombarded with decorations that reminded you that Christmas was coming soon. Or was it Gyftmas? Was that the same thing as Christmas, but with less 'Christ' and more 'Gyft'? The fuck was a Gyft anyways? You needed to do more research on that.

Buttercup didn't seem terribly interested in the holiday himself, but as you looked over the tins of frosted cookies, you wondered if you could put together something special for him. Maybe a cute tree, a few presents-

"eeey, if it ain't the sock puppet lady," a horribly familiar voice snickered.

***

You slowly swiveled your head towards the goddamn mustard hogging skeleton. He was seated on the bench near the front of the store, holding that ballsy little bitty in the cradle of his hands, though you noticed that said bitty was quietly sniffling and trying to hide behind the larger Monster's claws.

"Mustard guy," you greeted neutrally, still very much salty about the whole ordeal.

He guffawed and you decided to forego the cookies to get away from him before he could initiate further conversation with you. The sound of sneakers scuffing on the tile followed you.

"now hol' up!"

***

You did the exact opposite and power walked faster. Nope. You didn't know what he wanted, but you knew you weren't dealing with this. Not today, motherfucker.

Hoping to lose him, or at the very least weird him out, you turned down the aisle that had sanitary items and busied yourself by looking at pads and tampons. A solid thirty seconds later, he came to a stop beside you and scanned over the condoms with a knowing smirk.

"sooo... come here often?" he drawled as the bitty in his hands looked at you like you were Godzilla about to rampage.

***

Instead of answering, you responded with, "Do you live here? It sure as hell seems like it since you're always around."

"nah," he laughed and from the corner of your eye, you could see he was petting the bitty soothingly. "we just show up at the same times."

You shot him a look that screamed 'doubt' , but didn't say anything else as you turned on your heel and went about finding the stuff on your list. He continued to dog your steps.

"what's a skeleton gotta do ta get a moment of yer time?" 

"You've taken multiple moments already, asshole."

***

He persisted with his 'mission'. "now, ya seem like a fun lovin' kind of gal-"

That made you whip around to gawk at him.

"You are not trying to pick up chicks at the grocery store," you stated in disbelief.

"i ain't the kind of guy that enjoys heavy liftin'," he winked, though the joke flew over your head. "don't worry, i ain't interested in fuckin' ya. i just thought ya could help me since ya got such a sparklin' personality."

"Get bent."

"see? you're a real star. won'tcha at least hear me out?"

You went back to ignoring him.

***

"just one eeeensy weensy favor," the skeleton pleaded as you stuffed mushrooms and carrots in your basket.

"No."

"i just need someone ta help me get my bitty used ta humans," he continued as if you weren't giving him the cold shoulder. "he's real shy."

You shot the crying bitty a look. "He bit my ankle."

Oh, he looked thrilled to hear that. "that's why you're the perfect candidate! ya made him step outta his comfort zone."

"You really want me to help socialize your bitty?"

"yeah! i can sweeten the deal for ya too. howzabout a coffee date-"

"No."

Chapter Text

The skeleton was persistent, you'd give him that much. 

He continued to follow you around the store, relentlessly pestering you to help him with his bitty. You had no idea why the skeevy bastard who couldn't even be bothered to tie his shoes was insisting you help him with the crybaby. Sure, you were able to work with Buttercup's mood swings, but your pure stupidity gave you an advantage there.

Eventually, you gave up, told him you had to pee, and had him hold your basket as you 'secretly' left to just go to the other grocery store in town.

***

By the time you got home, it was late and you found Buttercup with his face pressed up against the window as he waited for you. It would have been cute if you didn't know that he was very likely to go on a 'slap a bitch' spree if you hadn't shown up when you did.

"It takes you so long to go to the store," he complained, though you did catch the hint of relief in his voice. "Maybe I should start going with you in case something happens."

"Oooor I could get you a phone," you offered instead.

***

The ups and downs were still there, even when the two of you fell into routines. Things couldn't always be perfect: that was just asking the impossible. Sometimes his temper would get away from him, or you would get fed up with snappish remarks and burst into tears. You understood that he couldn't help it, and he didn't really fault you for crying, even when he'd weakly make fun of you for it.

I still don't get it

Why are you so nice to me?

I don't deserve this

You knew he'd continue improving - you just needed to support him.

***

The days you didn't have to go to work were the best.

You got to sleep in, sure, but you always enjoyed seeing the subtle way that Buttercup would perk up when he saw you weren't going anywhere. The mornings were spent having idle conversations, and the day would evolve into whatever fit your combined fancy.

Sometimes, you'd binge watch shows together, other times you'd challenge each other to board games. He was a sore loser, but seeing him furiously write a haiku was hilarious.

You're a fucking cheat

That's not how you play Jenga

I will kick your ass.

***

Buttercup would occasionally get nightmares.

You only noticed when he had moved from sleeping in the living room to sleeping in your bedroom. His petals would be curled around his face - the tell-tale sign that he was asleep - but his vines would be moving on their own accord. They'd lash, thrash, and crack through the air like whips, attacking invisible enemies while he would mutter about 'doctors' and 'pits' under his breath.

You tried to wake him up once: you ended up needing 13 stitches in your arm.

He quietly told you to just hide the next time it happened.

***

You started decorating for Christ-Gyft-mas. 

Sure, you still had no idea what the difference between the two holidays was, but it was the thought that count! Buttercup watched you with a bored expression the entire time, unwilling to help you out, but ready in case you toppled off your stepping stool. It was like having a grandpa in flower form: grumpily sitting in his flower pot as the 'grandkid' made a mess of the house.

"I'm excited," you told him as Christmas music played over the radio.

"I'm dying," he said after 'Frosty the Snowman' came on the sixtieth time.

***

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Buttercup asked the next time you had to go to the store.

"I'm gonna try out the new one across town," you responded easily and zipped yourself up. "I don't know if they allow bitties, so not this time."

His vines twitched like he wanted to protest, but he eventually nodded and relented. You waved at him cheerily, knowing that he was just being a worry wart in his own, pissy way.

The new store was decidedly mustard guy free, so you counted your trip as an overall win.

***

"We never see you around anymore," your friend's voice whined through the phone you were balancing between your chin and shoulder. "I was starting to think you were tryin' to ghost us."

You cast a glance towards Buttercup as you mixed up the cookie dough ingredients. "Sorry, things have been hectic. I got a new roommate too."

"Shit, really? In that tiny duplex? If you were strugglin', you could've asked for help."

"Naaah, I'm fine. Just needed a change of pace."

" If you say so... Anyways. Are you coming over for Gyftmas? We're hosting this year. "

"I'll ask my roommate!"

***

"You want me to go to a Gyftmas party."

You used an ice cream scoop to put the cookie dough on the sheet in even lumps. Buttercup gave you a deadpan stare as you pointedly avoided looking him in the eye.

"Yeees?"

That made him roll his eyes. "Oh yes. Bringing your pet Thorny-"

"'Friend', not 'pet'."

"-That's anti-social and violent to a social gathering. I don't see how this could go wrong."

He had a point, but you weren't going to tell him that. "It'll be good for you to meet new people, and I trust them!"

"Hmm... No."

***

The conversation only confirmed that there was some odd reason that Buttercup wanted to go to the store and you couldn't figure out what it was for the life of you. If it wasn't for the snow and freezing weather outside, you'd definitely have a harder time with getting the grumpy bitty to stay home.

Either way, you texted your friend that your 'roommate' was a 'maybe' and promised them you'd bring a cheese board if you showed up. You were hopeful that he'd be willing to socialize with them by then, but knew better than to get too excited.

Chapter Text

It was just a regular day. 

A light dusting of snow outside. Christmas music playing over the store's sound system. There was a special on eggnog flavored ice cream and you were trying to figure out if it was boozy or not.

Things were going great!

Until you were greeted with the sound of sneakers scuffing on tiles as someone approached you from the side.

"eeey, if it ain't lil miss ditcher."

Once again, you found yourself slowly turning your head to glower at the grinning mustard hogger. His bitty glared at you from his hood.

"Mustard Guy," you growled.

***

You stuffed the maybe-boozy ice cream back in the case and turned to power walk away from the situation: fully prepared to just ditch your cart entirely. When you turned around, the skeleton was somehow in front of you and you let out a startled yelp as you tumbled backward into the coolers.

"whoops, did i scare ya outta your skin?" he chuckled, drawing a small snicker from the bitty hiding in the fluff of his hood. "my bad. just, heh. ya tend ta ditch people if they're not careful."

You gulped thickly and unwittingly blurted, "Are you stalking me?"

***

His cocky grin dropped instantly and he took several steps back as his red eyelights shrank into panicked pinpricks. Holding his hands up in surrender, he laughed nervously and said, "whaaa?? nah- no. no. i ain't stalkin'- are ya crazy? why would i stalk you?"

"I don't know, why are you stalking me?" you accused, seizing the chance to make the weirdo back off by spouting nonsense. "Are you after my purse or my puss? Which is it?"

"what the fuck- neither! holy shit," he snorted incredulously, though his head looked around to make sure nobody was watching. "calm down."

***

Not taking your eyes off him, you grabbed your buggy and moved it so it was in between you both. "Yeah that's what they all say, then the next thing I know, I'm locked up in some sex dungeon in the middle of goddamn nowhere being starved to death."

"jesus." You could see his shoulders were quivering with barely restrained laughter. "that's a lil fucked up, lady."

"I'm not taking any chances, bucko."

He snickered, but kept his hands held up in a placating manner. "i promise i ain't gonna swipe ya. too much work for a lazybones like me."

***

You doubted that the motherfucker could swipe you. He was a solid head shorter than you and you knew that you had a good set of lungs that would alert the entire store if needed. No, you just wanted to spook the jackass into leaving you alone and you'd start speaking in tongues if you had to.

When you opened your mouth to spit a retort, his bitey bitty gave a watery sniffle that immediately drew his attention away from you. He plucked the little fella out of his hood and rumbled out reassurances to him that gave you whiplash.

***

Mustard Guy cradled the little bitty like he was the most precious thing in the world, rubbing his thumbs soothingly against his back as the tiny skeleton wheezed and hiccuped in what you assumed was a panic attack. It made you pause and glance between the two as you debated ditching them again.

"s'alright, buddy," he crooned. "the human's just playin' 'round, no need to get all worked up."

"W-we- we're going to get- to get in trouble," the bitty gasped out between his cries. "We sh-should go."

You felt more awkward as the seconds ticked by. "I should go."

***

You started to back up, not taking your eyes off the duo for a second as you plotted your escape.

Which is why when you blinked and they were gone, you about lost your goddamn mind like a dog that just got bamboozled by a tennis ball. "What the fuck-"

"nah-uh-uh, ya ain't ditchin' us again so soon, human," the skeleton's voice said behind you. 

You jolted and kicked your cart by accident, sending it flying down the aisle and straight into a display of wine bottles. The three of you stared in horror as it wobbled, then collapsed.

CRSSSSSHHHH!

***

There was a terrible beat of silence as the dark red wine spread across the tile like a pool of blood at a crime scene. Customers and employees alike stared at the disaster, the cart, then the two obvious culprits. 

You were frozen in a Velociraptor pose with a face that looked like you sucked the dick of a lemon.

A manager came around the corner, red-faced and furious. "You-"

You didn't get to hear the rest of his sentence as Mustard Guy suddenly grabbed your wrist and the world went dark around you.

When light returned, you instantly vomited.

***

"ah shit-" 

Mustard Guy jumped back as you spilled the contents of your stomach onto the concrete and you distantly thought what the actual fuck? The frigid night air bit at your cheeks and your vision swirled as you blearily gaped at the alleyway you were in. Somehow.

What the fuck just happened!?

"deeep breaths," he coaxed, and you weren't sure if he was talking to you or the bitty. "hate ta wine, but i think we may have broke some poor bastard's spirits back there. maybe, heh. don't go back ta that store?"

You spat and snapped, "You think!?"

***

After you ripped him a new asshole, the skeleton eventually explained that he more or less teleported you both to the other side of town.

"i panicked," he muttered and his bitty looked like he wholeheartedly agreed.

Ignoring the fact he defied the laws of physics and teleported you, you chewed him out more and stomped your way to the grocery store you normally went to. Resigned to the fact that he ruined the new one for you.

He followed behind you like a lost puppy, still determined to pester you for some fucking reason.

"so... howzabout that coffee date?"

Chapter Text

It was hard to shop for groceries when you had a smartass and his wheezing bitty following you around.

You were vaguely concerned for the little dude and the way he hadn't stopped bawling for a solid thirty minutes, but you also told yourself that it wasn't your problem. Your worry was eclipsed by the pure, unyielding rage you held for Mustard Guy and his stupid, shitty puns.

"oh, that's an eggscellent choice," he mocked as you grabbed a carton of eggnog from the cooler. "can't nog it till ya try it."

You were impressed you hadn't killed him yet.

***

"nice, olive those."

"eeey, it's impastable to go wrong with that."

"really milking it, huh?"

" lettuce start over. your death stares are gonna make me kale over."

You whipped around and curled your fingers in a choking motion. He just grinned and continued petting his bitty like he was a fucking supervillain stroking their cat.

"herb your temper there, toots, it's just a joke."

He's not worth it, he's not worth it, he's not-

He glanced at the melon crate he was standing next to.

You gave him a glare that screamed 'don't fucking do it'.

" honeydew ya know-"

"UAAAAGGGHHH!"

***

Mustard Guy fell into a fit of laughter and cupped his hand over his bitty as the other customers in the store goggled at you for your shriek. At this point, you didn't care if you made a scene anymore as you draped yourself over your cart like your soul had been sucked right out of you.

"What will it take for you to fuck off?" you groaned miserably. Buttercup was going to be pissed that you were late coming home again.

The skeleton's grin grew victoriously. "i told ya; i just want ya ta help me with my bitty."

***

You lowered your gaze to the crying skeleton bitty. He cringed back and burrowed his face in the larger Monster's claws to avoid meeting your eyes.

"Okay, but why are you bugging me about that?"

He tipped his head and his red eyelights trailed up and down your slumped over form. "ehhh, i'm a good judge of character, heh. ya seem like a nice lady, and i don't know any other humans personally."

It was a piss-poor excuse. Only an idiot would take that at face value.

"If I say 'yes', will you let me shop in peace?"

***

Mustard Guy stared at you blankly for a moment as if he hadn't quite expected that to work. When he recovered, he shook his head and that stupid fucking grin only grew as he sauntered closer.

"angel-" 

"Call me that again and I will beat you with your own pelvis."

"babe-"

"Never mind, you're intolerable," you grouched and went back to minding your own goddamn business and doing everything you could to ignore him.

"well, what am i supposed ta call ya?" he asks exasperatedly.

"Nunya-"

He snorted, "oh i ain't fallin' for that, sugar tits. what's yer name?"

***

"Odis," was the first thing that came out of your mouth, which was weird because your name was decidedly not ' Odis ', but it was also a matter of your tongue flapping faster than your brain cells processed information.

The skeleton and his bitty looked very unimpressed with your offered moniker. "odis."

You didn't really have a choice other than biting the bullet and rolling with the punches, so you nodded in affirmation and repeated yourself. "Odis."

They stared at you for an uncomfortably long time before they seemed to silently agree that you were a massive moron. "okay then... odis."

***

"all i want is for us to meet up every now and then to help get my lil buddy here-" The skeleton motioned to the crybaby and the crybaby cowered when you gave him the evil eye. "-used to big scary humans like yourself. call us friends with benefits-"

"I will kill you," you blurted and if Buttercup had been here, he would have been proud of the venom you managed to spit.

"-but the benefit is socialization for him and free coffee for you." He eyed you with an amused grin. "easy, odis. i don't wanna fuck a meatsack."

***

You weren't sure if you should be offended by that or not, but you ended up sniffing snootily anyways. "Would you just give me your damn number so you can fuck off? You're already making me late as it is."

He held out his hand instead. "name's sans, pal."

For a hot minute, you just stared at him like he was the goddamn idiot because why the hell would you shake his hand when he can teleport you across town by touching you? Nay nay, you picked up a bottle of ketchup and used that to shake it instead.

"Odis."

***

After 'Sans' had yet another laughing fit that probably should have put him in the hospital for busting a rib, he finally insisted you give him your number and proceeded to send you a text right then and there. Just to make sure you weren't 'japing him', as it were.

From: Unknown Number, 8:57 PM

why did the skeleton cross the road

You stared him dead in the eye as you typed a response.

From: You, 8:57 PM

To get hit by a bus.

With that, you flipped him off and rushed through getting your groceries in sweet, blissful silence.

***

You came home to find Buttercup in the process of trying to calculate how he was going to waddle his flowerpot through the snow to drag your ass back. His eyes darted suspiciously between your face, the wine stains on your boots, and the grocery sacks printed with the wrong store's name.

"You're late," he said in a deceptively quiet voice as you nervously grinned and kicked off your shoes to go put away groceries.

As you walked by, you offered your arm to let him crawl up it, then lied. "Traffic was killer."

"You don't drive, idiot."

Chapter Text

It was the day of reckoning.

There was a heavy blanket of snow outside that gave you the excuse needed to dress yourself in a tacky Christmas themed sweater. You had the charcuterie board prepared with the fanciest budget friendly cheese, meats, and nuts you could find at the store.

And most importantly: Buttercup was complaining loudly about the scarf you were wrapping him in.

"This is stupid. You're stupid. Why are we doing this, stupid?"

"Because," you cheerily started as you tucked the ends into his heated flower pot, "You have no friends."

"I have you. Isn't that enough?"

***

You dramatically clutched your chest at his words and doubled over as if you were dying. Buttercup's expression transcended past a "thousand yard stare" and into the "I have witnessed infinity and hated it" realm.

Even though you were touched by his accidental confession, you were still dead set on having both of you show up to your friend's Gyftmas party. Really, it was the ultimate test of whether or not Buttercup could tolerate people outside of you for more than twenty minutes.

Determined to find out, you tucked Buttercup into your coat and waddled out into the snowy night.

***

As expected, the flower bitty did nothing but bitch the entire way to your friend's house as he hid within the warm confines of your coat. It was cold, you smelled like cheese and jalapeno summer sausage, why was that car honking at you when you were on the fucking sidewalk: the list goes on and on. To your credit, you took it all in stride until you got up to the brightly lit home of your friend and stopped walking once you hit their driveway.

"Buttercup?"

"What."

"Promise me you won't maim or murder anybody while we're here."

"No."

***

Not to be deterred, you carried on. "I know it's a lot to ask when you don't like people-"

"That's an understatement," he grumbled.

"-But I know that you can do it! And it would mean a lot to me if you could try to get along while we're here. If you decide it's unbearable after twenty minutes, just tell me and we'll leave: no questions asked. All I want is for you to try."

He was quiet for a long pause, and then he let out an annoyed sigh.

"Twenty minutes. After that, I promise nothing."

You beamed. "Great!" 

***

When you finally knocked on the front door, you were greeted by your friend: a three foot tall bunny monster with sand colored fur who kept her ears tied back with a ribbon. She gave you a once over and made a face that was a cross between amused and disgusted when she saw your leggings said "Santa's Got That Booty" with gloved Santa hands printed on your butt.

"Why do I invite you places," she groaned and stepped aside to let you in.

"Because... Uh. Actually, I don't know," you answered. "But it's nice to see you too, Bunnie!"

***

Bunnie Bunny, at a glance, was your average monster.

She dressed however she wanted, said whatever she wanted, did whatever she wanted - all while giving zero fucks about the opinions of others. Life was too short for her to give a shit, as she'd always say.

She also had thirty-eight siblings, which made for the biggest family gatherings you had ever been invited to in your life - something you were soundly reminded of as the two of you dodged around children to get to the kitchen. 

You could practically feel Buttercup transcending into the 88th dimension inside of your coat.

***

"I didn't expect you to show up," Bunnie casually said over the Christmas themed death metal being played in the other room. "Did your roomie bail on you?"

Several of the kids recognized you as the human that sometimes brings snacks and swarmed your legs, prompting you to hold the board above your head so they couldn't snatch it.

"He's here! Buttercup, say hello," you told your cleavage and your friend stared like you've gone crazy. "Buttercup."

With a heavy sigh, he poked his head up beside yours and plastered on the equivalent of a Satanic smile. "Why, howdy, friends!"

***

The grating warble of the bitty's voice made it sound like he was speaking in tongues, which effectively sent the children swarming you running in the opposite directions. Bunnie blinked owlishly as you remained frozen with your hands above your head and a vacant smile on your face.

Buttercup was pleased with himself though, especially since the immediate area around you was significantly quieter as the children cried in the other room.

"Ooookay. You know what? I'm not even surprised. It's you," Bunnie muttered and rubbed her temples. With a shake of her head, she waved you into the kitchen.

***

Once you the three of you were in the relatively safe confines of the kitchen, you wandered over to the island counter to find a spot to place your cheese board. Your awkward smile was still in place even as you turned back to your friend, who was giving Buttercup a run for his money in terms of thousand yard stares turning into "Come To Buddha" moments.

"Do I want to know the story?" she asked blandly.

"It's none of your fucking business," Buttercup snarked at the same time you blurted, "He was too cute and lonely to leave alone!!"

***

Your response earned a hiss from him and Bunnie simply stared at the two of you like the idiots you were. You might have been embarrassed if you weren't used to disappointed stares from both her and Buttercup.

"She just wants to know how we became friends," you soothed.

"Yeah, cutie. Shut up and let me hear it."

You braced for him to snap and to your surprise, he could only sputter incredulously at her lack of fucks to give.

You seized the moment and pounced on the chance to tell the story of how you met your Thorny friend.

Chapter Text

Bunnie steepled the tips of her paws together as she regarded you like one might regard a raccoon trapped in their trashcan.

You grinned. Nervously.

"I have no words for how stupid you can be sometimes," she deadpanned.

"I like to think it's been working out for me so far."

She pinched the bridge of her nose, but when she lowered her hand you noted there was an unusual glint of nervousness in her eyes. "I really don't think you understand what you got yourself into, hun."

Buttercup twitched inside your coat; his vines coiled like snakes readying to strike.

***

You rolled your eyes to hide the confusion rising in the face of the sudden serious talk. "I'm not that stupid, Bunnie. I did my research."

"Apparently not if you're letting that thing crawl all over you."

You were taken aback, then flinched when thorns dug into your arms mercilessly. "I don't-"

"That's rich coming from a furry's wet dream," Buttercup shot right back. "What's the matter, Lola? Did Warner Bros fire you after your cameo in Space Jam Season?"

"You-"

Bunnie barked out a dry, mean laugh. "Adorable! Did they let you watch YouTube videos at the bitty farm?"

***

A murderous snarl erupted from the flower bitty - a furious sound that you hadn't heard in ages - and the bunny in front of you held her hands up in a placating manner as she backstepped several feet. You were absolutely bewildered by the sudden animosity that sprung up between the two after you had told what you had thought was a heartwarming tale of friendship.

The silence was stifling, so you broke it with a hesitant, "'Bitty farm'?"

Neither one of them spoke and instead glared daggers at each other.

You started to bristle, only to be interrupted again.

BANG!

***

The house's side door, conveniently located in the kitchen, slammed open to let another adult rabbit inside; this one bearing light blue fur as he wrestled several grocery sacks inside.

"Asgore's cocksucking whore, it's cold out," he grumbled as he kicked the door shut.

You recognized him as your friend's older brother, and pitied him as the one who just walked in at the world's most awkward moment.

"BB," Bunnie hissed, prompting him to turn with an equally disgruntled look.

"What-" He froze in place when he finally noticed you. Or rather, Buttercup. "Holy fucking shit look at those STATS."

***

Before you could even think to open your mouth to question it, Bunnie sucker punched him right in the kidney. BB doubled over with bulging eyes and a heavy wheeze, but the action had effectively silenced him so she could whirl back towards you.

Vines began to peak out from the ends of your sleeves, and you distantly wondered if your arms would lose circulation.

"Okay. No. You definitely don't know what that thing is," she started, and you finally put your foot down.

"Stop calling him a thing!"

"Oh, but your friend is right, you know," Buttercup cackled mirthlessly.

***

Oh man, mistakes were made, you despairingly thought as the bitty's voice warbled between octaves like he was going through an exorcism.

"Poor, stupid human," he continued, and you jolted when he used the vines circling around your arm to direct the limb to hold your chin in a mocking pose as though you were a puppet. "You clearly can't tell a real bitty apart from a manufactured one, but monsters sure can. They're the reason things like me exist!"

Bunnie slowly inched closer as though she were approaching a wild animal. "Okay, let's just. Calm down there. Alright, buddy?"

***

"Why? So I can't give away your dirty little secret? Sorry, Bunnie, but everybody knows freaks like me were created by you monsters."

Your irritation and confusion started to evolve into panic as you saw where this was going; specifically with Buttercup once again ragdolling someone all over a room.

We shouldn't have come, he didn't want to be here, and I made him come anyways-

Maniacal laughter cut through the air; sharp and warped in a way that made it feel like your teeth were vibrating. The Bunny siblings flinched back and clutched their ears at the offending noise.

***

"You're all the same: disgusting, worthless-"

Unable to bear the way your fingers were going numb and how your ears felt like they were going to start bleeding if he continued his tirade, you stumbled towards the kitchen sink. The motion alone was enough to make him squawk from being jostled from his perch at the top of your head but you took it a step farther by turning on the sink and seizing the spray nozzle.

"What are you doing now?"

Holding your breath, you proceeded to unceremoniously hose him in the face and doused yourself as collateral damage.

***

Buttercup sputtered indignantly as his words were drowned out (literally) by the spray of water and you didn't let up until he had ducked back down to hide within the confines of your coat. As soon as he was out of sight, you dropped the nozzle into the sink, shut off the faucet, and wrung your hands together to try and work some feeling back into them.

The silence of the aftermath felt like it was going to choke you and you tried not to start crying in front of everybody.

"I-I think," you mumbled, "We've been here twenty minutes."

***

Bunnie blinked, still in the process of reorienting herself. "Huh?"

You shook your head to rid yourself of the water that clung to it and pivoted on your heel to start power walking to the door. The children that had swarmed you on your arrival were still hidden away, and you noted that the heavy metal music had stopped by now.

Don't cry. Don't cry-

"Hun, wait-"

"I'm sorry for crashing the party. I'll text you later," you said through clenched teeth and hurriedly shut the door before she could protest further.

Buttercup was suspiciously quiet on the way home.

Chapter Text

Not a word was spoken as you trekked your way home with your arms wrapped around your chest to trap in warmth to keep Buttercup from freezing.

Even when you stumbled into the house and struggled to remove your still-wet coat due to the fierceness of your shivering, the Thorny did little more than take it off for you and hang it on the hook. You didn't know why he was being unusually quiet but ultimately decided it didn't matter as you dumped him onto the couch and retreated to your room to bawl your eyes out for the night.

***

When you woke up the next morning, you expected your head to feel heavy and your nose to be stuffy from your crying session and had made your peace with it.

What you didn't expect was the headache trying to split your skull open or the feverish chills that had you shivering so hard you deliriously wondered if you were becoming one with the Speedforce. 

You laid in bed trying to comprehend why you felt like trash that had been festering in a summer dumpster for a month and could only assume it was karma for ruining the Christ-Gyft-mas party.

***

You wanted nothing more than to be a depressed lump as hazy memories of the night before filtered in between thoughts of "oh god I'm dying", and "oh god kill me".

After a quick text to your boss informing them you were taking a sick day (only for them to confusedly remind you that you had already taken the day off), you tossed your phone aside and cocooned yourself in your blankets.

"You clearly can't tell a real bitty apart from a manufactured one, but monsters sure can."

You squished your pillow over your ears to block out your thoughts.

***

You tossed and turned, falling in and out of fitful sleep states while the fever made you sweat profusely and soak the sheets around you. Sometimes you would blissfully dream of nothing, and other times your overcooked brain imagined scenarios where your friends battled to the death that would force you to wake up in fits of tears and dry heaves.

Time crawled by, though you were too incoherent to process it until your bedroom door creaked open to let a Sunflora knockoff peer inside.

"Are you dying?" it asked.

"Whhhuuhhere's my ultra ball," you slurred and rolled back over.

***

You were distantly aware of something coiling around your body in the midst of your sleepy coughing fits and there was a precarious churning in your guts as you were jostled around that threatened to wake you fully. However, a groan was the only complaint you made as you drifted back to sleep and had a nightmare of a skeleton whispering the dumbest fucking jokes in your ear.

The next time you woke up, you were on the couch with a fresh quilt tucked in around you while the DVD menu of CSI: Miami played on loop in the background.

***

It didn't take much processing power on your end to determine that you were very much confused, especially because you were tucked in so tightly you couldn't move your limbs. Not that you did much more than give a pitiful attempt at wiggling, mind you, but you were just beginning to wonder how you would escape to go pee when you heard an ominous scraping on your wooden kitchen floor.

If the fever hadn't already made you sweat up a storm, the sudden mental image of a psychopath butchering woodland critters at your counter would have definitely done the job.

***

As you laid there, trapped in a quilt and contemplating the many gruesome ways you were about to die, you did the only thing your feeble mind could come up with as a defense mechanism.

You held your breath.

It made your head pound harder and it amplified the slight tickle that itched at the back of your throat, but you stuck to your guns. If the ax murderer couldn't hear you breathing, then surely you'd make it out unscathed, right?

What you didn't account for was the growing need to cough. Or the need to breathe, for that matter.

***

Needless to say, your genius idea quickly evolved into regret that came in the form of a hellacious coughing fit that had you inhaling loudly and hacking even louder as you struggled to breathe normally. Even when you managed to stop coughing, you still noisily wheezed like a dying accordion.

"For fuck's sake," you heard Buttercup mutter from behind the couch, and you had the sudden epiphany that you lived with someone.

The scraping rounded the corner and once it reached the carpet, it turned into a soft scrrttch-scrrtch as you dumbly watched the Thorny scoot his flowerpot into view.

***

Vines stuck out of his flowerpot like spider legs to pull his ass across the floor while his oven-mitt clad leaves held what looked to be a bowl of soup between them. He eyed you warily when he saw your eyes were open, but the dazed look on your reddened face probably told him that the lights weren't on upstairs.

You blinked as he scooched close enough to push the bowl up onto the table, and then you started wheezing for a whole different reason as you cracked up in hysterics.

"Y-you—HACK—you look like a fucking hermit crab-!!!"

***

Buttercup's pale face started to turn as red as his thorns as you laughed your ass off between desperate breaths of air and violent coughing fits. He didn't deign it with a response and instead let you ride it out while he used his vines to perch himself on the arm of the couch.

Once settled, he slapped a wet washcloth onto your forehead and manhandled you into an upright position so he could fluff your pillows. "I should've let you drown in your own bodily fluids."

You still snickered as he fussed, grateful to forget your worries for now.