The Mortal Babysitter: A Dark Deception Fanfiction (Agatha x Reader)

Episode 6: Monster Girl Doctor

"I'm gonna say it."

"Don't say it."

"I'm gonna say it."

"Don't say it."

. . .

. . .

. . .

"Told you so."

Thump!

"Ow."

We rode the ascending elevator—myself (the new and not-improved mortal!) and the smol demon Agatha (who apparently had the meanest right hook in all of the monster dimension).

"It didn't have to get physical," I told her, rubbing my arm.

"I gave you the warning," she replied, smug. "Iz not my fault you— Achoo!"

There it was: the third or fourth explosion of germs in the past ten minutes alone. 

I fished out a tissue from my pocket and covered Agatha's nose.

"Gimme a blow," I said.

And she did, blasting one side of the paper with droplets of snot.

"I'm tired," she groaned. "I wanna take a nap."

I know that feeling.

"Should've listened to me," I pointed out. "I said go home after a few levels, but noooo. You wanted to clear every inch of Super Mario before the sun could come up."

"But we were kicking serious butt," Agatha argued. "The goombas couldn't touch Banda!"

"Yeah? Well, it looks like the goombas had the last laugh."

More drippings leaking from her nostrils.

I offered another tissue.

"Blow."

More snot to cling to my fingertips.

"It's your fault," Agatha said. "You're a mortal. Your sickness shouldn't have touched me."

"Yes, of course. I should've told my flu to stay down. 'Down boy! Down!'"

You sound just like your dad.

I rolled my eyes, remembering the earful Papa Malak hammered into me.

"How could you do such a thing to my sweet angel!?"

"You should be ashamed!"

"I'm docking your pay!"

Apparently, I'm the one to blame, even when I was at home minding my own business.

And I can't stress this enough: You can't dock my pay IF YOU'RE NOT PAYING ME AT ALL.

You ruddy jack*ss.

"You should feel lucky," I said. "I was so sick that I nearly passed out trying to make a ham sandwich."

"You sure you just weren't super hungry?" Agatha asked.

"Believe me: the day you catch me starving, you will not find me struggling for a sandwich. Chicken alfredo to the rescue!"

"Was that what was in the cups you gave us?"

". . . No. That was Top Ramen. A peasant's bread and butter. Still good, though."

Ding!

Right on time, the elevator doors slid apart, revealing a hallway whose rails overlooked the main lobby down below. Elegant lamps hung from the beige walls, accompanied by various chandeliers clinging to the ceiling like pompous clouds.