Chapter Text
Doctor Beanies sat on his sofa, boxers and a wifebeater the only thing to cover him as he settled down next to Stacy #29310. The whiskey in his hand was already warm and half-drank by the time he was finally done disposing of all the failed experiments this week. The harshness of the whiskey bit the back of his throat and made him emit a sickly noise, something between a throat clearing and a sneeze. He was tired, that's for sure.
B: "What a day, Huh, Stace?"
He leaned over his kitty dotingly, but Stacy #29310 simply stared at him with those eyes. Those beady, soulless eyes that weren't really Stacy's.
B: "Stacy-poo...? Oh, don't give me that look."
If he took his glasses off he wouldn't notice, though.
The glasses come off about as easily as his slippers, and eventually turns into him tossing the half-drank bottle at the wall just to watch it shatter. Stacy #29310 jumped up at the sound, trudging up to lick the alcohol she could get off the ground. Beanies quickly sweeps up the cat before she can manage to get herself killed for the 29,311th time and turns off the television. He didn't even wanna be in the living room anyway. Whatever. It's late.
Beanies walks down the hallway, passing several experiments and scooping up a few extra Stacies roaming around the lab.
B: "Time for beddy-bye for my faaaaavorite daughter...s!"
About a dozen of them were huddled in Beanies's bed. All of them wander about, getting comfortable, making biscuits, loafing about. Beanies is very skilled at contortionism, fortunately, both from living with so many cats and his embarassing contortionist gig in college... He manages to get comfortable betwixt the onslaught of Stacies, holding one in his arms.
It was never easy for Beanies to get to sleep. His nightmares were worse.
And unfortunately, his nightmares are just about all the amount of dreaming he gets nowadays. Including tonight.
It's him. Younger... 40 years younger. God, no. Not again. Don't make me relive this again, God, he pleaded to his mind. But God does not show up. The only one in his home with him is...
There she was. It was Stacy.
This was going to be a bad one. He knew it.
Stacy looked sick. Sick as she was when he had to let go. The world was cruel to his poor Stacy.
DB: "I can't do this again."
But you have to.
DB: "Stacy..."
She mewls at him, but he doesn't hear it. He can't remember who he hears. It's not Stacy. Was it Stacy #22819? #2193? It almost sounded like Stacy #2, if he thought about it.
Doctor Beanies had no time to think. He reached for Stacy, but she backs away. Hisses when he reaches out. Tries to claw when his fingers touch the tumor on her head.
A strange, black figure materializes into the television behind him, having found his newest target to torment. It seems too caught up in its own schemes to read the room for a few seconds. Slowly, carefully, it slithers out of the television and creeps up behind Beanies.
Beanies eventually backs her into a corner, and the second his hand touches her, she decomposes. His touch brings worms up to her skin, her flesh melts, her body deteriorates. In Beanies's panic he scrambled faster, trying to put Stacy's newly necrosed flesh back on her carcass, not realizing it is him causing the damage. By the time he's able to gather all of her in his arms, the damage is done. He's rocking a pile of viscera and bone.
Stacy is gone.
Stacy is gone. Life is over. Why, God? Why did you do this to me? Why did you-
S: AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
The figure waves its arms out like an idiot to add scare-emphasis, nearly giving Beanies a heart attack in his sleep. Then, it sees Beanies's face covered in tears, the corpse in his hands, and realizes he's fcuked up in the most terrible manner possible.
S: Uh... Um... Heh. Did I scare you? Hope I did. I'm a... Professional scarer. For grief support. Stop that crying!
DB: You suck at your job, dickwad! I hope you quit.
S: HEY! You can't call me that! That's really mean! Don't you know you can't be mean to me? You can't be mean to Steven!
DB: I'm trying to grieve my daughter here!
S: Okay, Okay, I'm not a professional scarer! I'm... A time god... I guess you could call me that. And I was here to come and kill you for your aggressions against the timeline! But you got sidetracked with all this crying nonsense... What's the matter?
God. That word means he knows something, right? Could he get Stacy back?
DB: ...A God you say... I should kill you for taking Stacy from me!
Beanies got up, gently placing Stacy's corpse down onto the ground, still careful to keep her compact. Steven was too disgruntled at the sight of such an odd thing to dodge Beanies socking him in the face and pinning him to the door, ready to hit him again. Steven pushed him off, waving his hands in an attempt to stop the next punch winding up.
S: Hey, calm down! I didn't take your stupid Stacy, okay? In fact, there's a thousand timelines with you and your Stacy still intact! Alright? So don't get mad at me!
Beanies's heart loses its sting, if only a little. The thought that Stacy is still well cared for and happy... Just not here... Maybe that's okay. He sniffles, wiping his face on his sleeve.
DB: So... My daughter? She's out there?
S: Yeah... I can't just take one out the timeline, that would wack up everything, but y'know... I think she'd be happy knowing how much you cared for her.
The words surprised Steven and Beanies both. Steven had never said something so caring toward another individual, and Beanies had never heard something so reassuring to him. His heart felt steady for the first time in the night.
DB: You know... Maybe you're not the WORST at your job.
It wasn't a compliment, but Steven still let it feed his ego(es). The little Stevie on his head blushed, which earned it an embarrassed smack from Steven. Control yourself!
S: You're not the worst at your... um... grieving.
God damn it. What the hell was that, Steven? That line sucked. You suck.
Beanies let out a giggle that made Steven's hearts(?) race. It sounded cute, for a strange, old smoker pill-popper with a degree in balding. Jeez, even at 35 his hair was thin. He was cute, though. A good build, pretty features... The little Stevie wonders what it would be like to be held by him, but it earns him getting knocked back inside Steven's cranium to hide his blush.
Beanies leaned into Steven, unconsciously. He needed this, the relaxation. Steven could feel how stiff Beanies was and knew he hadn't felt relaxed in a long while.
Steven fought with himself. The embarrassment, the ego, he choked them down along with his pride and wrapped an arm around Beanies's flank. It was warm and fleshy and alive, even if this was only a dreamscape. Steven's hands were cold and somewhat tacky, but Beanies didn't mind. he was the only one who hadn't minded in a long time, really.
DB: Your hands are cold...
S: It's kinda hard to maintain body regulation when you're in an infinite hivemind. Why can't you be of help and warm me up, huh? At least be useful in your dreams, gosh!
Beanies hugs onto Steven tighter, and it feels as if the whole world falls away between them. The void stares at them, but it does not deter them. Doctor Beanies's warmth on Steven, his arms wrapped around him is a feeling Steven hadn't ever had the pleasure of feeling. Lightning passed through his gut as his composure buckled.
S: You.. Didn't have to be a smartass about it.
DB: Nonsense! I went to school to be a smartass.
Damn it, stop being funnier than me! Steven was already blushing embarassingly enough, so the smile cracking across his face wasn't aiding his case at all. There was nothing to look at but each other, so Beanies decided to look at him while Steven decided the void looked quite interesting in all its nothingness.
DB: Anything on your mind, Steven?
Steven stammered under his breath, which made Beanies lean closer.
S: Nothing. You're too damn close.
DB: Am I?
Their faces were close, and all of his minds were fighting a losing battle. He can't take it anymore!
Steven's mouth met Beanies's, if only for a few moments in this stupid dream. Steven's saliva burned, but in a way that Beanies had come to crave from years of drinking and substances. Beanies wasn't the poster child of a healthy maw, but it was better than the constant taste of Steven on your tongue all the time. Steven's hands floated over Beanies's back awkwardly, unsure where to place themselves. Beanies was already deepening the kiss, knocking the two of them to the floor before they break apart.
Beanies was panting, attempting to catch his breath as Steven began rethinking all of his life decisions he's ever made. He's in too deep. The second Beanies sits up and recuperates, he takes the little Stevie out and whacks his dream self as hard as possible. Reverse logic, right? If you knock out someone in a dream, they should wake up.
Beanies wakes with a gasp, surrounded by Stacies as usual. There is no charming time god in his home, his Stacies are safe. What a weird dream.
The television in his living room flickers on, and Steven looks around for a bit. He spots Beanies starting his morning routine, starting a brand new day with a shot of vodka as his usual Monday breakfast. That's about enough Steven needs to see before getting embarrassed and running off again.
Beanies has already started forgetting his most recent dream, but Steven has not. He plans out his next time to haunt Beanies's dreams, starting tomorrow.