Dustberry stuff.

Inspired

@reapergodsans

I think that's it. Sanses get sick. I commented for a dust AU, but I've decided to take matters into my own hands as well.

You get the idea.

Dust POV

I woke up shivering and coughing. I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but my head hurt too much. I stared blankly at the ceiling for a while until once in a while I would sneeze, and it would hurt so much I'd scream. Then strangely, a blue glove felt my forehead. I flung myself up again, only to instantly regret it and go back down coughing. 

I went back to sleep then.

Blueberry POV

I went to check on Dust again. He was boiling, and he had his sweater on. Papyrus gets sick sometimes, so I put some ice on Dust (whoops), and he tried to attack me, only to flop back down and wince. I didn't like the look of this. This time I got a towel and some ice water. Not very magnificent. I didn't mean to hurt him! He wasn't even reluctant to being touched. That was kind of bad, I think. He's always annoyed when I even felt him, but this time, he smiled.

                                                                                         ~

Dust woke up at dinner. I had made some soup because it's pretty easy. You throw stuff into a pot, then set the pot on fire. But Dust disagreed; he wouldn't eat it. He mumbled to get some ketchup, and I reluctantly agreed.

Dust POV

I had a terrible headache. I woke up in bed with Blueberry putting a cold cloth on my forehead. This is so humiliating! I noticed I was starving again. Blueberry was so vulnerable right now... It was funny. But I was frozen in place. I couldn't do anything. Blueberry was like another brother. Another chance. But Frisk and Chara would be coming back for another genocide, of course. I needed all the LOVE I could get.

Just saying the word LOVE, I felt a jolt.

Over LV18. Very powerful.

You should be burning in hell.

You gave up on everyone, even Papyrus, and you saw Toriel die like that. But all you cared about was power. Preparations? No. Go to hell. Blueberry will never love you.

Love me? What the heck does that mean, and why does it mean so much...

Nevermind. My thinking was too clouded. I dozed off.

I woke up in the evening with my soul pounding like a drum. My head hurt, and I felt cold. I felt a jolt of pain as I sat up. I looked in the mirror and discovered my whole face was purple. Great. Just great. I hobbled over to the kitchen to grab some ketchup, but Blueberry was already there preparing some food. I think whatever he was making, it was food. But to me, it looked more like coal, even though he told me it was soup. He demanded I get back in bed. He pointed out that my whole face was a dark purple, and I was sweating. But I couldn't worry him, and I didn't want him to know how weak I was right now. I was burning up in my sweater, so I took it off only to realize that underneath looked terrible. I was in my pajamas which were damp with sweat, and I was still purple all over.

I shoved on my sweater shivering and pulled my hood over my face to hide how ridiculously bright purple it was.

Blueberry looked at me, very concerned. At this point, I ran away, coughing and sputtering like a broken-down car. I felt so heavy I collapsed in the hallway. But Blueberry found me and haphazardly dragged me to the bed. I struggled to stand up and limp back to the couch, to plop down with a random book I found. But everything was so blurry I could hardly focus on the words. Finally, Blueberry spooned some ketchup in my mouth (I grumbled about this in a croaky voice for some time) and put the cold cloth on my sweaty skull. With that, I could focus on the words a little better. It was an entry about monster funerals. I chuckled to myself and immediately regretted it. I felt as though I had been stabbed in the chest.

I flipped the page over and hobbled over to the freezer to get some ice water since the ice had already melted. Slowly re-soaking the wet towel every 45 seconds or so, it started taking longer for all the water to warm up. I hurt a little less, and I could steadily flip the pages. It was one of Papyrus's books about puzzles. Looking closer at it, I noticed there were notes in the margins about fixing each diagram, solving each example, and so much more. He really was a genius... and the only reason his puzzles weren't so hard was that he couldn't bear the thought of hurting any human. Wow...

I had forgotten to replace my cloth for a while, so I started feeling like crap again. I replaced it painstakingly and fell asleep on the couch. But the cloths were still cold. A small gloved hand would put the