Showtime Showdown (Reversed Story, BATIM + SB)

BONUS |☆| Out-of-tune

A/N: Merry Crimis and Happy Holidays! (Yes I meant to type Crimis!)
I hope 2022 has been treating everyone well so far; By the time I post this, it'll at least be past midnight over here.

Yes, I'm writing this on crimis eve; I wanted to get it out of my system even though I wanted to save it for when the holiday came full swing.

Anyways, just a little heads up; As obvious as it is, this isn't canon!!
I just wanted to write something cute between Sammy and Bendy because the batshit crazy cultist man getting calmed by a tiny baby version of his god is my lifeblood now.

On to the bonus! Showtime Showdown will return to its regular programming soon. :D

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Tappa-tappa-tap!
Through the empty halls came tiny steps, following the clumsy sound of plucking strings.

Within the office, Sammy found himself spending more and more time; The studio was oddly quiet these days, and it felt almost uncomfortable.

Though, his already clumsy song came to a halt when he spotted the little devil darling in the doorway.
"Ah- My lord!" Sammy started with a slight jump in his seat. "I'm sorry, I must have bothered you. I'll stop for-"

Shake, shake; The little devil shook his head, walking over to stare up with curious eyes before pointing to the banjo held in his hands.
"...I.. I'm sorry, my lord?"
"Whhat.." The demon squeaked out in a hoarse voice. "Playing?"

"Ah-" Sammy chuckled sheepishly, shifting his hold on the ink-stained instrument. "I... I'm not sure.
Though I am a humble musical director, I.. have grown rusty.
It's hard to read my sheets anymore, and I find it hard to play any instrument without sounding off-key."

He placed the banjo beside him, slipping his shaky hands under his mask to rub at his face with a sigh.

The man looked sad, but.. how could Bendy help him feel better?
With a pause to think and a tip-tap-tap of his boot, Bendy got an idea, walking over to the Banjo and struggling to lift it  before plopping down on the floor.

Sammy disliked his own music, because he felt discouraged by his rustiness; but what if the demon he worshipped played for him instead? Maybe he'd realize just how good his songs were!

Bendy took a deep breath, before starting to play.

It was a broken song; One clumsy, messy, but at the very least, it was one Sammy seemed to recognize, slipping his hands out from under his mask as they held idle in the air.

"...My Lord, You... don't have to hold back to make me feel better." The man started, Bendy shaking his head. "Nuh-uh. No hold... hold'un back."
Sammy tilted his head slightly as the little devil darling kept trying.

"This is.. one of my songs?"
"Mm-hm!" Bendy nodded proudly, not even seeming to flinch when he completely messed up a part.

"Hearing your songs... s'nice. Even when rusty. Songs bounce, feel like home." The devil darling croaked in his weak voice, Sammy's hands lowering to rest on his knees.

"I.. tried learnying. Thought maybe, I could make home sounds, too." Bendy added with a little smile. "But I didn' get good..
But issok.
'Cuz you make... home songs. Inspire!" Bendy finally managed to figure out what he planned to say, looking up with a big smile.
"An' even when they're rustily.... they're home."

Bendy paused for a moment, looking at the Banjo before holding it up.

Sammy Lawrence didn't like a lot about himself.

He was suffering, unstable. He felt like a husk of himself, and knew he might never change.
But his biggest disappointment was his lack of musical talent.

He used to win awards.
He used to be a music director, for crying out loud.

But... just this once..

Sammy Lawrence gently took the banjo from the little demon, holding his arms- and the banjo- up in surprise when the ink demon giggled and got up, walking over to his leg and grabbing the leg of his overalls.

Hop, hop- Fwumf!; The little devil darling leapt up, falling belly-first onto the man's lap.
"My lord?"
"Comfy!" Bendy chirped, wriggling a bit before sitting upright, like a child on their father's lap.

And, careful not to squish the little devil darling, Sammy hesitated before lowering the Banjo in a way where he could play.

He felt what remained of his music director self shrivel up, wincing as the notes came out broken and strange.
Yet, as he suffered inside, he spared a nervous glance to the smiling demon on his lap.

Even at the crystal clear sounds of him messing up songs he once had no difficulty with, Bendy was content with listening to Sammy play.

His faintly-featured expression softened, before cracking into a slight smile, as the little ink demon nestled closer with a big smile of his own, followed by a yawn.

Who cared if he was a little out-of-tune?
Sammy's entire life these days was spent worshipping, sacrificing, for a version of the ink demon he saw vivid images of in his mind.

Yet, right now, rather then sacrifice another being, an object or his life- He found himself sacrificing his time, and nothing more.

This was not the ink demon he knew.

But, all the same, this was his Lord.

And, with even the simplest, clumsiest song- He'd still learned today that his lord was happy with the songs he created, even though they had become rusty and stale.

Sammy Lawrence, the Music Director in Joey Drew Studios, would frown and scoff at his failures.
But Sammy Lawrence, the Prophet within the inky abyss....

Perhaps he could learn to accept his imperfections, and grow as he once did again.
For, if his songs could create a home for his lord, he would not settle for this home to be littered with doubts and fears.

It was only the best that would truly suffice.

Only the best for the Ink Demon, that now had started to fall asleep on his lap; And to create the best 'home' he could, he would need to cast aside his doubts and his fears.

Just for his lord, he would try.

Just for his lord, Sammy Lawrence would not pressure himself to be perfect. Would not fear or despair when his songs didn't come out quite right.

For his songs were his lord's home.

And so long as he built the home for his master, he would not allow himself to break; Bendy was his only audience, and for him, he'd put on the most fearless of shows.

Wait... the ink demon was falling asleep?

Sammy Lawrence snapped back to his senses, having gotten lost in his own thoughts as he played.
He returned to the soft sound of snoring; Not loud and obnoxious, but soft and quiet, and vaguely like a slide whistle of sorts.

And, cracking a wider smile he never knew he was still capable of, Sammy shifted slightly, before continuing to play.

Because, so long as he played, he could ensure his lord had the sweetest of dreams, and awoke to the same home he fell asleep inside of.

And so, peace returned to the halls of the music department. The only sound the inky ones could hear being the plucking of strings.

At first clumsy, though soon, a familiar shimmer entered the songs that played; A familiar talent just under the surface, buried through years and years of damnation.

It would take more then a few hours to return to his previous level of skill, but just this once, Sammy refused to think too hard on it.

Improvement, no matter how slow, was unimportant in his mind.

Sammy Lawrence had a home to build within this office of his.