Why Not?

[GET CLEANED BIIIIITCH]

October 10, 2024

Guess who just got jumpscared by my own fic being recommended to me.
This guy <---

- z z z -

Seeing the sun shine through the large, polished windows feel a lot more uncommon than it actually is. Living here probably pushed that kind of mindset into him without even realizing it, but that'll be a thought for another time.

His smile softened, allowing himself this small moment of basking under the rays without any other eyes to see the difference in him, continuing his decisive strides with a slight hop in his steps.

Today, Nightmare tasked him with a mission, one that Killer and Horror also requested a while ago so this one is pretty important.

"Oh? What kind, bruh?" He asked, tilting his head, mimicking that of a curious puppy.

Nightmare scowls at the sight.

"We need you to get Dust to clean his nasty ass scarf. Anymore longer with this and I'm actually going to barf." He demanded with urgency. He's never heard Nightmare this desperate before.

"You've all already tried-"

"YES, we've all fucking tried to do it, but with no luck. He's too stubborn."

"Oh. Then you can leave it to me!"

Nightmare could've been more polite about it but he has to admit, the stench IS getting pretty bad, and Dust is the one experiencing it all first-hand.

He stops in his steps, finally spotting the man he's been looking for. Really, he should've known Dust would be in the theater room, watching some drama he can vaguely understand, it would've saved some time from wandering the halls for literally 20 minutes.

His smile returns to its originally wide and gleeful look, his leisure pace speeding up to a full on Naruto run as he calls Dust's name.

"Bruh! Dusty! Snowball! My good ol' dandruff cotton ball!"

To the sound of the last sentence, Dust quickly turns to Epic with the most confused and offended looking expression he has ever seen, if anything, he almost looked distraught.

"Don't call me that, ever again."

"Yeah, yeah, taking things seriously and all that, but-" He waves off Dust's words, "I'm here to get you to clean your scarf!"

Dust is silent for awhile, processing both the most offensive nickname he has ever heard and the most offensive action someone could do to him. Eventually, a gaster blaster is summoned as he clutches his scarf.

"Bruh! Chill, its just hygiene!" He cries, jumping back and waving his hands around more wildly as if that would protect him from an undeserved death.

"What makes you think that I'll put him in the laundry?" Dust scoffs with a roll of his eyes, getting back into his sitting position on the couch, fully intending on ignoring him.

"Well of course not the laundry, but I'm still gonna make you clean him." Epic shrugs, keeping his hands raised to placate the gaster blaster pointed at him.

With that answer, Dust slowly turns to look at him again, confused, but not as aggravated as before.

"I mean, I don't think he likes being that dirty." He points out, watching both the gaster blaster and its owner soften at the mention. He feels a little bad about using that against him but, hygiene...

Hygiene is important, kids.

"Sooo- I have a solution, without the washing machine being apart of it!"

Dust squints his eyes, his gaze slowly trailing back to the material of his scarf. The grasp he had on it loosens to something lighter, like a gentle caress, like an apology for gripping it too tightly.

Cleaning him would be nice..

Seeing that Dust's resolve has almost completely disappeared, Epic gestures to the theater's room exit, a reluctant smile of something tender showing up on his face.

"Could we use your bathroom?"

- z z z -

The bathroom's counters look as clean as it did in the beginning, mostly because Dust hasn't been using it outside of locking himself somewhere that isn't his dirty ass room.

Maybe he should get Dust to clean himself as well today. Force him into the tub or something.

"Okay! So, how does Papyrus usually like his showers, bruh?" He turns to look at him, gesturing to the white and gold tub to hopefully encourage Dust that he isn't gonna grab the scarf and clean it himself. There is no way he is going to touch that thing anyway, it looks like the worst panic-attack-causing-material ever. He could already feel the overstimulation from over here.

Dust slowly shuffles over to the tub, staring at it like it personally attacked his own brother. Though, glancing to Epic's encouraging smile, he reaches down to turn the knob, setting it to the warmest temperature.

Epic hops onto the counter, watching Dust do his thing. The bruh seems familiar with how to do this and it doesn't surprise him. Papyrus, in his own universe, likes keeping that kind of routine the same even when he isn't there. Papy is in the stage where he's learning to do it all himself and he couldn't be more proud. His brother is so cool.

He's glad that Dust caught on to what he originally planned. Why couldn't he have done it sooner? Fear must have been keeping him away from that if the way he fought for his life to keep the scarf safe wasn't an indicator.

Bubbles formed and frothed over the rim of the tub, and with a gentleness you would rarely see, Dust slowly unwinds the scarf from himself, hesitating to place it into the water. But, there's a thought that goes through his mind on how Papyrus wouldn't want to stay that dirty for that long. Uncared for and neglected, collecting more and more dust and dirt the longer he leaves it there.

Dust places it into the water, letting the scarf soak as he takes off his gloves and pulls up his sleeves. Staining the water with his sins isn't practical, Papyrus deserves so much more better.

Minutes of silence passes by, Epic is passively watching the scene. The clean water is becoming stained into a disgustingly dull brown, contrasting greatly to the clean environment it once blended into. Yet, the scarf is becoming as vibrant as it used to be. Bright, soft, and... just like him.

Dust's shoulders shake for a moment, muttering something he's too far to hear, but he has a feeling he knows exactly what is said.

Sliding off the counter with a grace you would only see in a tuxedo cat, he shuffles over to the haunched man, crouching down beside him. He doesn't know whether this would be appreciated or not, but he rests his hand on Dust's back anyways.

Not caressing him or anything, just letting the weight of his hand comfort him. Sometimes that's all anyone ever needs.

- z z z -

I just became the very thing I swore to destroy. I'm crying.

Sorry for dumping an Alternate Multiverse on you with no explanation at all, but basically, this is a 'what if Epic joined the Bad Sans?' thing.

I'll leave it at that until I get the motivation to write more for this.

Goodnight! :D

Words: 1202.