Overridden: A Googleplier X Child! Reader X Bingsepticeye (Complete)

Chapter Eight

Soft music played from the speakers in the living room when Google left Bing's room. He frowned slightly, recognizing the song by X Ambassadors. It was often searched for in its prime-he remembered the fad. He didn't necessarily like it, but he didn't hate it. To him, it was just another song. Striding down the hall, he perked up, hearing a small voice, humming along softly, but almost happily. He crept down the hall, and peeked around the corner, into the living room, brushing a stray black bang out of his eyes.
   There on the floor (Y/N) lay on their stomach, writing in a small journal, legs bent up, kicking in the air softly, and smiling. Despite how tired they looked, their eyes were bright, happy. The song made them light up, made them happier. Google stopped at the end of the hall, watching with his arms crossed. Tim sat on the couch, reading glasses on, deep into a red bound book.
   Google smiled softly, then stepped into the living room. "What are you doing, (Y/N)?"
   They glanced up, their smile fading as they tensed. The looked back down at the journal, shifting. Google almost stopped, not wanting to make them uncomfortable, but crouched down anyways, hands resting on his knees. He reached forward slowly, tugging the journal towards him. (Y/N) made no move to stop him, but watched as the journal moved away from them.
    The hand writing was a messy scribble, barely legible. Google frowned slightly, peering at it. The writing went around a small drawing of a man in a blue shirt, and a small child holding their hand. Granted, it was hard for Google to identify that the man in the blue was him, and the child was (Y/N), but once he did, he smiled softly.
   "What does this say, (Y/N)?"
   (Y/N) shifted again. "It says that I wish that Google didn't say mean things. It says that it hurt my feelings, and that I'm worried that Google won't have any friends if he keeps saying those mean things. Google said that he doesn't need friends, but he does have friends, Bing, Tim, and Sam are his friends."
   Google studied (Y/N) for a moment, then looked back down at the journal in hand. "You need to work on your handwriting."
   (Y/N) looked down, then sat up, and left the room, rubbing their arms. Google sighed, setting the journal on the coffee table, then glanced up at Tim, feeling his stare. "What?"
   "You're horrible with kids, aren't you?" Tim asked, taking his glasses off.
   Google scowled, standing. "So? I was merely making an observation."
   Tim shook his head, brown hair falling into his eyes. "Kids don't need condescending observations, Google. They need to be nourished, and they need to feel loved. If you give them that 'you-need-to-work-on-everything-because-you-suck' attitude, they're gonna fall into a deep spiral where they feel as if they can't do anything right. They need to know that they are trying their hardest, and that's okay."
   "So then why are they so drawn to me? I've done nothing but that."
   Tim shrugged, slipping his glasses back on. "Who knows?" He looked back down to his book.        "Maybe its because you showed them some kindness by taking them in when their own parents abandoned them. You're really the next familiar thing."
   Google studied him as he fell silent, reading. He sighed, then strode outside, and leaned against his car, arms crossed, staring up at the morning sky. Even for mid-morning, it was warm, the sun's ray comfortable on his exposed skin. He leaned his head back, shutting his eyes, and allowed himself to relax, and enjoy the relatively quiet moment. Birds sang, driving cars could be heard on nearby streets, some kinds laughed and screamed at each other from blocks away, and the faint sounds of buzzing bees could be heard, moving from one flower to another. Google released a relaxing breath, before jolting, feeling a tug at his shirt. He glanced down, tense, not expecting someone to be out, and able to sneak up on him.
   "Oh, (Y/N)," he blinked, then crouched down to their height. "What are you doing down here?"
      (Y/N) looked down, still gripping the edge of Google's shirt. "Sam and Tim are busy... and Bing won't let me be in his room as he works... Can I... Can I be with you...? F-for a little bit... Please?"
   Google studied them, in there wrinkled clothing, messy hair, and tired, dark bags under their eyes. Their skin had a paleness to it that wasn't normal for them, and they looked wary-physically exhausted. The first step would maybe get them some more clothing, then a bath. A nap, then maybe some food would do some good. Or maybe food first, then nap? Physical care is more important than "fun". He stood, then went around to the other side of the car, (Y/N) following close behind, much like a lost puppy. He opened the car door. "In. We're going to the store."
   "O-okay," (Y/N) scrambled inside, in almost a panicked hurry. They sat, then held up their arms as Google reached in, and buckled them in. He frowned at how small they were, and wondered if maybe he needed to get a car seat, eventually, but cast the thought aside. Would he be actually driving them around too much? He should tell Bing he might need one if he takes (Y/N) out a lot. With a blink, Google shook his head, then stepped back, shutting the door. What was he doing? Bing can figure it out himself.
   Going around to the driver's side, Google got in, and started the car. "Okay," he reversed out of the driveway. "To the store for clothing, then back home so we can get you a bath-when was the last time you've been bathed?"
   (Y/N) looked up at him, hands clasped tightly together in their lap. "U-um... B-Bing did... I-I can't remember when... he said he was going to be busy for a while... And I tried to fill the tub myself one time, b-but I d-don't really know h-how..."
   Google sighed, turning towards the main road. "I'm going to have to teach those teenagers to do it... That's ridiculous." And ridiculous it is. Maybe... No, Google shook the idea away. They can barely manage themselves. How would they manage a child?