Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is a child on the floor, witnessing what is possibly the worst day of Ink’s life.

Ink is used to bad days, to fighting and loneliness. He is not used to fighting with Dream. He is certainly not used to children spawning out of nowhere, growing from an ink splatter in a glow of golden magic.

Ink isn’t crying, but there are teardrops in his eyes as he gazes at the little skeleton on the floor. It blinks back at him, stars in their eye sockets.

Dream would know what to do right now. Dream was always good with children, with figuring out what to do with monsters in the aftermath of fights that devastated entire worlds. But Dream isn’t here right now. Ink is.

Ink, who is not good with people. Who never knows what to say, what to do, when others are upset, even people that he cares about.

And now there is a child sitting on the floor of the Doodle Sphere, looking at Ink for some reason. There’s something expectant in the gaze that makes Ink uncomfortable.

Ink wants to run away. He wants to fight someone, get rid of the red still lingering in his bones after the argument. He wants to hide and cry because his best friend hates him now and there is nothing he can do to fix it.

Instead, Ink crouches down in front of the kid because, despite what Dream thinks, he does care about others.

“Hey kid.” Ink says. It comes out quieter than he meant for it to. The skele-baby stares at him and Ink realizes that he has no idea how old this kid is. It doesn’t look like an infant, but that doesn’t help much with knowing how to talk to them. If the kid can talk at all.

A Check would be a much easier way to identify the kid. Ink could figure out how they got into the Doodle Sphere later.

Reaching out, Ink picked the kid up from under the armpits. “I’m going to Check you now.” Ink warns the dangling skeleton. The kid looks Ink in the eyes and smiles.

It’s a very familiar smile. One that Ink has seen many times, even if they have grown rarer recently.

“No way…” He mutters, pulling the kid closer to analyze the gold of their eyes, comparing it to another pair of yellow eyes that he knows well. Maybe too well. “Did Dream… have a kid?”

Something sharp spikes in his chest, a hurt that Ink can’t quite understand. Dream would have told them if he had a kid, right? They were friends, best friends even! And kids were really important things that friends should definitely know about.

Ink resolutely ignores the fact that Dream still didn’t know about ZephyrTop, or his dads. That was different - Ink had hidden them to protect them from the multiverse at their request. By the time he knew he could trust Dream, it would have been awkward to introduce him to Ink’s family. Especially with Dream having some very… complicated familial issues that he was dealing with.

But Dream and Ink had been friends for years, definitely longer than this kid had even been alive. Dream should know that he can trust Ink with his issues, especially considering that Ink is helping Dream deal with his brother.

Taking a deep breath, Ink sits and pulls the still smiling kid into his lap and tries to ignore the battling colors fighting for control. The kid cooed, playing with Ink’s fingers. Who was the other parent, Ink wondered as the kid stuck his thumb in their mouth.

Taking an unneeded but helpful breath, Ink sighed. The kid giggles as the air tickles the side of their head.

The kid is pretty young. Maybe, just maybe, they had been made around the time Dream and Ink had started having their arguments. Maybe Dream didn’t trust Ink around his kid because of that. As much as that would hurt, it would make some sense and it would be less painful than Dream having never trusted Ink at all.

Ink didn’t really feel anything when the kid bit down on his thumb, but he pulled his hand away despite the lack of pain. A small stream of ink was leaking from the surprisingly tough bite.

“Don’t do that.” Ink scolds lightly. “I don’t want you accidentally swallowing things you aren't supposed to." The kid looks up at him, eyes wide and mouth still open. They reached for Ink’s hand, but he pulled away. After a few moments, Ink decided the pitiful gaze wasn’t worth resisting. Wiping the ink off his hand, he returned it to the kid and allowed them to gnaw on his knuckles.

Making up theories wouldn’t help anyone. Ink knew this. The best thing would be to Check the kid and see if they really were Dreams.

Bracing himself, Ink Checked the kid, ready for them to start whining at the sensation and silently hoping they wouldn’t bite him again.

Ink freezes. The kid giggles around his knuckles. The Check hovers in front of them, mocking.

Because this isn’t just Dream’s kid. It’s Ink’s kid as well.

Ink yanks his hand away and turns, vomit already spewing out of his mouth and onto the floor. Nearly all his paint is forced out of his system at the shock.

Gasping, Ink turns back to the kid. His kid, who looks confused and upset as to why Ink had yet again taken his hand away.

Purple and yellow fill his bones, the only two colors left in Ink’s system. He knows that his eyes are probably switching between the two emotions like crazy. His kid seems drawn to them, forgetting his temporary displeasure to reach up to Ink’s eyes.

They aren’t wearing any clothes, Ink realizes as his kid grabs onto the bottom edge of Ink’s eye socket. They’re probably cold. Ink looks at the Check again - and yeah, still his kid, nothing has changed in the last thirty seconds.

It makes the paint well up inside him again, but he doesn’t have enough to throw up again. That’s a good thing - Ink isn’t sure that he’d be able to avoid getting any on the kid in his lap a second time.

His kid - his son, according to the Check - pulls on Ink’s face. Ink lowers his head, allowing his son to stick a fist into his eye socket.

His baby coos and giggles in awe. Ink thinks that this is the most scared he has ever been.

Ink stands, baby hand still in his eye socket as he carries his kid to his bedroom. The baby looks around, curious, as Ink walks through the house.

Out of everyone who ever stayed in the Doodle Sphere, Ink is the smallest. This means he will, probably, have something that could work as clothes for the kid. Maybe.

Ink opens the closet door.

“What do you think? Anything you like?” He asks, successfully keeping any purple from leaking into his words as he turns the kid a bit to let him see the contents of the closet. The kid turns towards the open door, pulling his hand from Ink’s eye socket and sticking his thumb into his mouth instead.

There isn’t much there. Ink can create his own clothes, so he usually doesn’t bother buying or keeping old clothes. Most of the things in here Ink either bought on a whim or are sentimental for some reason.

The kid sucks on his thumb. Ink waits for him to choose something.

His son turns back to Ink, and settles his head onto their shoulder, staring up at Ink, still sucking his thumb. Ink frowns down at him, confusion temporarily taking over as the kid’s eye sockets begin to droop. That makes a certain amount of sense - being born must be tiring.

“Oh.” Ink says, suddenly feeling very dumb. Newborns can’t pick out their own clothes, even if the kid looks closer to toddler age. Reaching out, Ink plucked a brown button up he had been gifted by Dream.

Setting his son on the bed, Ink carefully pulled his arms through the sleeves and began to button up the front of the shirt. Luckily, the kid was able to sit up on his own. Probably not an infant then, at least not physically.

Once he finished dressing his kid, Ink pulled back. The kid leaned forward as he did so, though Ink couldn’t tell if it was because he was put off balance once Ink stopped supporting him or if it was because he missed the physical contact.

Ink stared at his son, who had just been born and had only one of his parents there. The kid had come at quite possibly the worst time. Dream had been very, very clear about not wanting to see Ink again, and even after the fight Ink wasn’t sure if that was a temporary wish or not.

Purple began to overtake yellow. Ink didn’t want to lose his best friend, even if the past few months had been fraught with tension after their first argument. He didn’t want to raise a kid alone. He had never planned on having kids at all, hadn’t even known it was possible due to his soullessness-

‘Wait.’ Ink thinks. ‘Does he even have a soul? Or is he like me?’ Cold horror filled him at the thought that he could have cursed his son to an existence without a soul, washing away any and all remnants of his other colors. Ink wouldn’t wish that on any monster, but especially not this one.

“You laughed.” Ink said, and this time his voice did shake. The purple fear in him was too strong not to manifest in some way. “That means you have emotions. You have a soul. You… you have to have a soul.”

His son leaned forward, arms raising. Ink picked him up, bringing him close as he sat down on the bed.

“I have to check” Ink whispered, touching his forehead to his sons. “ I’m sorry. I have to check. It isn’t going to be comfortable, but I have to know.”

The kid didn’t react, just stared at Ink’s eyes in what he assumes is wonder. Carefully, Ink brings his hand up to his son's chest and pulled.

A small white monster soul appeared, floating between Ink and his son.

Tears well up in Ink’s eye sockets for the first time that day as he pulls his kid close, practically folded over him in a tight hug.

“It’s okay.” Ink says as the kid’s little hands latch onto his shirt, pulling him further into the hug. “It’s okay. You have a soul. You’re going to be okay- You have a soul. It’d be fine if you didn’t- I’d love you even without it- but I’m so glad you do. You don’t deserve to not have a soul.”

Ink realizes that he’s rambling when tears start to drip down his face and into his mouth. They’re a light purple color - a release of fear. Draining the purple in his system so that Ink can focus on the yellow.

His son has a soul. Ink has a son, who has a soul and is so little and who looks so much like Dream but also not at all because this is Ink’s son too.

A little late, Ink realizes that he had told the kid he loved him. It’s not untrue, but… Ink had never uttered those words to anyone before. Not to his dads, who understood that Ink had trouble with articulating his feelings sometimes. Not to Dream, whose relationship with Ink was so complicated that Ink wasn’t sure how love fit into it. Not with Blue, Dream’s new friend who Ink had no idea how to feel about.

But, despite this kid not even existing an hour ago Ink already knows that he loves them. Ink would do just about anything to keep this kid safe. He would die over and over again, would allow the whole multiverse to come to ruin, would even destroy it himself.

And, Ink realizes, he would never talk to Dream again if he rejected their kid. It would hurt. A lot. All of the things Ink had said he’d be willing to do would hurt, but all of it would be worth it to keep his kid happy and safe.

Except... Ink had no idea what was needed to raise a kid. He had jumped to extremes pretty quickly- it was unlikely he would need to destroy a single world, let alone the entire multiverse, just to keep his kid safe. Kids didn't need violence or destruction to keep them safe. They needed the opposite.

Kids needed families. Support and stability and safety. Ink wasn’t able to provide any of that. Monsters weren’t supposed to stay in the Doodle Sphere too long, not unless they were Ink. Even if the kid did inherit Ink’s powers or immunities, that didn’t mean the Doodle Sphere was a good place to raise a child. There were no other people living here, not to mention the floating islands with no rails and the amount of times someone who wasn’t supposed to be here got in.

The Doodle Sphere wasn’t a safe place to raise a kid. Ink probably wasn’t a safe person to raise a kid. He didn’t know what he was doing. Hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t had time to prepare. He wasn’t even good with kids. Ink was entirely out of his depth here, and Dream wasn’t around to help.

But… Ink knew of two people who did have experience with kids who weren’t mad at him. Honestly, they were probably the only two people he trusted with this.

Ink looked down at his son. The kid had fallen asleep sometime during Ink’s contemplation, drool falling from his mouth onto Ink’s sleeve. That didn’t bother Ink. Most messes didn’t bother Ink.

Briefly, Ink debated letting him sleep. Taking a sleeping kid through a portal, however, was a surefire sign for the kid to wake up upset. His son hadn’t cried yet, but Ink knew for a fact that he would have no idea what to do if the kid did become upset.

With a sigh, Ink stood up from the bed with the kid still in his arms, nudging his son a bit to wake him.

“C’mon bud. We’ve got to go visit your grandparents.”

Chapter Text

‘Really,’ Ink thinks as his kid sobs through gags, ‘I should have expected this.’

Most monsters disliked going through Ink’s portals. Claimed it made them nauseous, or dizzy. Several had even gotten sick afterwards.

Ink should have realized that his kid would dislike it too, but he hadn’t been thinking. Hadn’t expected his son to not have the same immunity to the liquidy transport that Ink did.

Ink grimaces with as much sympathy as he can muster considering how low his paints are and looks around. They had portalled to Ink’s room inside his parent’s house. A good thing too, as the baby had started coughing and crying as soon as they had popped out of the portal.

The kid hadn’t eaten anything yet, but Ink can tell from experience that he would have thrown up if he had. Which means no more taking the kid through his portals and also figuring out what his kid could eat.

Rubbing circles on the kids back the same way they saw Dream do when Blue first went through one of Ink’s portals and got sick, Ink tries to comfort the kid. They shush him, say little promises and affirmations that they have no way of guaranteeing in the softest voice they can muster.

It sort of works, as the kid’s harsh whines turn to little whimpers. The kid keeps a tight hold of Ink’s shirt though, shoving his face into Ink as if they can take away his pain and protect him from the world.

Ink will try. Stars above, Ink will try his hardest to protect his kid, but he’s already messed up and he hasn’t even been a parent for an hour yet. This is why he needs his dads. Ink needs help.

Going through the portal was necessary, Ink reminds himself. There is no other way to ZephyrTop, Ink had made sure of that.

Still, the kids' sniffles are horrible to listen to. If Ink had a soul, it would probably be breaking. As it is now, his limited color palette is mixing in a very unpleasant way and he’d really like it to stop.

Ink stands from his seated position on the floor. His kid buries his head into Ink’s scarf at the movement, but does not start crying again. Making his way out of his room, Ink heads toward the kitchen, looking around the house as he does so.

Top and Aster are not here. It makes sense - if they had heard the kid’s sobs, they likely would have come running. A part of Ink wonders where they are. At the circus, maybe, or visiting Top’s kids. Maybe they’re even right outside on the house porch.

It doesn’t particularly matter where they are right now. Ink can tell from the sunlight streaming in the windows that it’s nearing late afternoon, maybe even sunset, and his dads’ will be home soon.

Entering the kitchen, Ink tries to set his kid on the counter, but the little thing just whines and refuses to unlatch from Ink.

Ink doesn’t huff in annoyance. He doesn’t have the paint to muster up the feeling, and even if he did he wouldn’t. It’s strangely… nice, to feel wanted, needed, by someone. And if he’s being completely honest with himself, Ink doesn’t really want to let go.

What Ink needs, though, are paints. Making the portal had drained him and taken up too much of the paint left in his system. The faint remnants of purple and yellow clinging to his bones are making him clingy and anxious, but even that is fading rapidly. He’s starting to feel the tired pull that being low on paints gives him, the one that makes him want to sink to the ground and curl up and wait, forever and ever, until he’s finally allowed to rest for good.

But Ink can’t do that. He has a kid now, who he needs to feed, and so he needs to take his paints so he can be a good, present parent.

“C’mon pal.” Ink says. The grip doesn’t loosen, so Ink gives up on detaching him. Instead Ink shifts from holding him in a hug to resting the kid on his hip.

The kid accepts this compromise, settling his head on Ink’s shoulder.

“Thanks kid.” Ink smiles, reaching for the vials on their sash. Their hand closes around empty air.

Ink looks down. His sash is not on. He does not have his vials.

Ink does not have enough paint to be upset, or annoyed, or even just slightly miffed. He does, however, have enough to frown slightly as hazy memories lace through him.

Right. He had taken his sash off in the Doodle Sphere. He never needed it immediately when he was there, and he had wanted to be more comfortable for Dream’s visit.

In all the chaos, he had forgotten his sash when he came to ZephyrTop. And, Ink realizes, he had forgotten Broomie. There was no getting back to the DoodleSphere like this.

“Well bud, it looks like we’re going to have to break into the backup stash.” Ink says. The kid just sleepily blinks up at him.

If he could muster the will, Ink would coo at the sight. As it is, there are more pressing things that need his attention.

Ink pulls open a very specific drawer in the kitchen. Inside sits a box that Ink knows has neatly organized vials of paint in them.

This little box is the only one of its kind. There are two vials of each type of paint inside it, a backup just in case anything goes wrong. His dads are the only ones Ink has ever trusted enough to give it too - most of his paint stays safe and protected in the DoodleSphere.

Pulling out cyan and orange first, Ink takes a decent swig of each. He needs the calming blue before he adds to the rest of his palette. The liquid courage is nice as well - it washes away the lingering purple and mixes nicely with the cool cyan.

Ink breathes in and out. The faint shake his bones have been carrying since the fight fades away, leaving calm and collected confidence in its wake.

Pulling out his yellow vial, Ink notices his kid tracking the little container with his eyes. Strange. Had he been doing that with the other two colors as well? Ink can’t remember.

Ink moves the vial back and forth slowly. The kid’s eyelights follow it, albeit slowly.

“Huh.” Ink says. “Is this interesting to you?”

The kid does not respond.

“You do need to eat at some point.” Ink points out oh so insightfully. “I wonder if you need paints like me or positivity like Dream? Maybe…”

Ink uncaps the vial and holds it up to the kid. Nothing happens. Ink moves the yellow filled container closer to the kids mouth.

“Ink?”

Ink looks up. Aster is in the doorway looking very, very confused.

Pulling the yellow away from his kid, Ink swallows some and smiles.

“Hey-a, Aster! How’s it going?”

Aster blinks, then enters the room to stand next to Ink and the kid, tail swishing.

“I’m doing fine. We just picked up some new teas that I’m excited for you to try. Though, I’m not sure your guest will be able to have any.” Aster says, leaning down a bit to get on eye level with Ink’s kid. The kid stares at Aster in return. “Speaking of, who is your little friend?”

Ink’s smile widens as he holds the kid out a bit. His yellow and orange are mixing to make a wonderfully bold pride, and quite frankly Ink is excited to show his parents his new baby.

“This!” Ink announces, “Is my kid!”

Ink waits for the appropriate congratulation that the few new parents he’s seen always seem to get. Aster frowns, his tail stilling.

“Your kid?”

“Yes.” Ink says, drawing the kid back towards him. He doesn’t understand the look on Aster’s face. This is a happy thing, so why is he not happy? “My kid. He’s- he’s new.”

“I see.” Aster says. “And what is your kid's name?”

All of Ink’s bright and vibrant colors fade into an ugly brown mess. He does not have the right emotions, the correct paints, to feel panic or shame or guilt, but there’s a faint horror thrumming through him and that’s all that is needed to bring Ink back to their senses.

“I don’t know.” Ink says, wilting in on himself. “He just appeared, after… I haven’t had time. To think of a name. I’m… unbalanced.”

Aster likely didn’t need to hear Ink confess to his out of tune emotions, but he still listens to Ink finish speaking before he reaches for the open box.

“What colors do you need?” Aster asks, though Ink notices him looking at the half full vials already splayed out on the counter.

“Green,” Ink starts. “Then blue and pink. I’m… I think I need a minute before I take any red or purple though.”

Aster nods, carefully picking out each color and setting them out. He hands the green to Ink and then, to their shock, makes a gesture for the baby.

“Would you like me to hold them while you do this?” Aster asks. Ink feels frozen, because he doesn’t want to let go of his baby. Not yet, not when he just got him.

But Ink trusts Aster. Aster, who picked out his paints and asked for his baby instead of demanding to hold him. Who makes Ink tea and helps him with new art projects and always listens to Ink when they talk and is one of the two people allowed to handle Ink’s vials.

Slowly, Ink hands his baby to Aster. The speed has less to do with trust and more to do with Ink not knowing how to hold a baby. As low as his purple is right now, it’s more than enough for Ink to exercise caution when passing around a very droppable baby.

The kid doesn’t fuss. Ink probably wouldn’t have been able to give him away if he did.

Once the kid is settled into Aster’s arms, Ink uncaps his green vial and takes a careful sip. One after the other, Ink measures his paints and stabilizes himself as much as they can in this situation.

Ink reaches out and Aster hands his son back without protest.

“This isn’t how I wanted to introduce him to you.” Ink says, lip wobbling. They can recognize Aster’s slight frown as concern and confusion, now. It helps.

“You said he was new.” Aster prods gently. Ink nods.

“I don’t know how he happened. I got into a fight with Dream, and then he left, and the kid was just there.” Ink says. “I didn’t realize that he was- I mean, I had to Check him. I thought he was some random kid, but he’s mine. Mine and…”

Ink trails off, swaying in place to rock the kid as he tries not to think about Dream. He can tell Aster is putting the pieces together though.

“He needs to eat. I just… don’t know what.” Ink says. Aster runs a hand over Ink’s skull, cool and comforting. Ink leans in as Aster wipes underneath his eye sockets.

A bit late, Ink realizes that the purple tears might have left some slight stains. Quite frankly, Ink probably looks like a mess. That explains some of the worry then.

“I could try and find something the kid can eat.” Aster suggests. “You can go find your father and tell him the news. I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic at the news that he’s a grandfather now.”

Ink giggles a bit at that. Top liked to claim that he wasn’t that old, despite having three full grown children, two of which he raised from infanthood. A grandchild would just be a further argument against him.

“Where is Big Top?” Ink asks.

“In the study. He got several new books that he was very excited about. All about ethics and morals and whatnot.” Aster says.

Ink smiles again. If he knew Top, the skeleton was already engrossed in one of the books.

Ink turns to go, then turns back to Aster. Hesitates, before asking “I think I might get a little emotional. Could you take the kid again?”

Aster blinks, then smiles softly before reaching out and lifting Ink’s son from his arms. Ink waits a beat before turning away, wanting to make sure the kid didn’t fuss.

He doesn’t, so Ink walks out of the room and towards the office. It’s a quick walk, and Ink knocks on the doorframe as he steps inside.

Top looks up from the book he had been reading.

“Ink.” He smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hey Big Top.” Ink says, entering further into the room and plopping down on the couch next to Top.

Ink slumps and leans against Top. An arm wraps around his shoulders, steadying and soft. Ink closes his eyes and just… stops for a moment. He doesn’t think or worry, he just allows himself to exist in the moment.

He’s with his dad. Aster is making dinner in the other room with Ink’s new son. Now, Ink has to tell his family about said new son.

Gaster’s voice cuts through the silence. “Are you alright, Ink?”

Ink opens his eyes. “Dream and I fought.” He confessed.

“Oh dear. Again?”

Ink tries not to feel shame at that. He and Dream had been getting into arguments ever since Ink wasn’t able to make it to a fight against Nightmare a few months ago. Several important characters had gotten killed and though Dream had driven off the Bad Sanses with the help of Blue, the world had been left in near ruin. Even worse, Blue had gotten hurt.

Dream had been upset. Had asked Ink why he wasn’t there, and when Ink couldn't give a good enough explanation, got angry. Had told Ink that they should take their job more seriously, that people had died because he was absent, before storming off.

After that, it felt like Dream was always watching for Ink to mess up again. Every missed battle, every time they failed to save someone, Dream seemed to grow more and more irate with Ink. No matter how Ink tried to calm him down or lighten the mood, his best friend seemed to only get more and more wound up.

It was only a matter of time until something broke. Ink just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Hadn’t expected their fights to blow up so bad that Dream left him completely.

Unwanted tears spring to Ink’s eyes. “I tried to fix it, Dad.” They say. “I thought, maybe if we hung out together again just like old times, he’d remember that we’re friends. But we just started arguing about stuff again and then he left. And I don’t think he’s coming back this time.”

“Perhaps he just needs time.” Top says gently. Ink can’t tell if his dad truly believes that or not.

“That’s not the reason I’m upset.” Ink says. And honestly, it wasn’t. Fighting with Dream had become uncomfortably familiar. Ink was sure that they’d be fighting together against multiversal threats again soon enough, even if they weren’t talking.

If it wasn’t for the kid, Ink would let Dream come around on his own time. He trusted Dream and knew that the guardian would still work with Ink for the good of the multiverse. Ink would have still been able to see him occasionally, and that could have been enough for Ink. But now…

“When we fought, something happened.” Ink continued. “Our magic- or maybe our emotions- mixed. I’m still not sure. But we have a kid now.”

Gaster’s hand nearly falls from Ink’s shoulder. “You have… a kid? With Dream?”

“He’s with Aster in the kitchen right now.” Ink says. He knows it’s harder to believe without the kid present. He hears Top take a deep breath. It sounds mad, Ink thinks, but that doesn’t make sense.

“And Dream left you. And your kid. Alone.”

“No!” Ink says, defensiveness creeping in. It makes sense why Top would be mad if Dream had abandoned their son, but that wasn’t what had happened. “Dream doesn’t know. I only noticed the kid after he left, he was so quiet and was hidden by the furniture, so Dream wouldn’t have seen him! He didn’t know! He- he didn’t- he couldn’t have known. He wouldn’t have left if he knew.”

The room is quiet. Ink thinks he’d be panting if they had lungs, but instead he’s just trying not to cry again.

“I’m sorry darling.” Top says, pulling Ink into a hug. Ink accepts it without complaint, wrapping their arms around his dad. “I shouldn’t have said that to you. I was just surprised.”

“It’s okay.” Ink says. He doesn’t comment on how Top doesn’t apologize for thinking badly of Dream, but they don’t have the energy to bring that up right now. There are more important things to do. “Do you want to meet him?”

Top pulls back from the hug. “Your son?”

“Yeah.” Ink shrugs, standing up. The action helps. Moving around usually helps Ink ignore emotions he doesn’t want to bother with.

“Of course I do, dear.” Top says as he joins Ink. They walk through the hall in silence, Ink leading the way. That’s okay. Ink appreciates the lack of questions.

When they reach the kitchen, Ink and Top find Aster with a pot of something on the stove.

“Ah, there you are!” Aster says, turning around. He’s holding a spoon in one hand and the baby in the other. “I’m making mashed potatoes. I feel like that’s a good start on figuring out what the kid can eat.”

Ink walks forward and holds out his arms. Aster hands the baby over carefully and plops a kiss on both Ink and the kid’s head.
“Thanks Dad.” Ink smiles. His yellow and pink are mixing right now into a wonderfully warm feeling that mutes the blue lingering in his ribcage. They turn to Top and offer up the sleeping kid. Top takes him, oh so gently.

“Oh Ink.” Top says, looking at the baby in absolute awe. “He’s wonderful.”

“He doesn’t have a name yet.” Ink admits. “I feel like I should wait until Dream can be here too, but…”

“But you don’t know how long that will take.” Top finishes for him, understanding as always.

“You know,” Aster says from the stove, “You don’t need to give him a full name right now. You can pick out his first name. Then, Dream can pick out a middle name when he’s available.”

“I…” Ink starts, then trails off. “Won’t he be mad? Names are important.”

Top shakes his head. “Names are only as important as you allow them to be. People change their names all the time, after all. Plus, he’s not just Dream’s kid. He’s yours. If Dream is going to be bothered about you naming the kid without him, then he should have been here.”

Ink wants to laugh a bit at Top’s anger. His dad is protective even after Ink insisted that Dream did nothing wrong.

The advice is sound though, so Ink focuses on what to name his baby instead. Something light, and happy. Art related, maybe. Something that could be shortened into a nice nickname. Ink has been calling the kid bud and pal...

“Palette.” Ink says, the name leaving his mouth as soon as it enters his mind. They don’t regret it though. Palette is a nice name. A name that just feels right, that seems to fit his kid.

“Palette.” Aster repeats. “That has a nice ring to it.”

Top smiles. “Well. Now that his name is decided, we have one thing left to do.”

“Huh?” Ink says, question marks in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You need to introduce him to your brothers.” Top says. Aster, the traitor that he is, laughs as Ink’s face falls.

~~

“You have a kid.” Sans says, shock coloring his voice. Ink nods.

“You have a kid!” Papyrus squeals, taking Palette from Ink’s arms. Ink lets him, trusting his brother enough to step next to Sans as Papyrus sits on the floor and stares at Palette in awe.

“His name is Palette.” Ink says.

“Palette.” Papyrus repeats. “Hello, Palette! I am your uncle Papyrus. It is a pleasure to meet you!”

Palette coos, grabbing onto Papyrus’s gloved hand.

“Wow.” Papyrus whispers in awe.

“Wow is right.” Sans says to Ink. “Since when did you have a kid?”

“About three hours ago.” Ink says. After naming Palette, Top had gone to dig up some of Sans and Papyrus’s old baby clothes for the kid while Aster finished cooking the potatoes. The mashed food had gone over well with Palette once he had woken up, and Top had called over his other sons as soon as Palette had finished eating and been changed into proper kid clothes. Both of his dad’s had excused themselves to let Ink introduce Palette to his brother’s while they made some tea.

Sans chokes on air, which is funny because skeleton’s don’t need to breathe. “What- what do you mean three hours ago? That kids like, a toddler. How did he even happen?”

“Dream and I fought.” Ink says. Sans’ deadpan look lets them know how little that explanation helped. Ink continues. “My best guess is when we were fighting we did something to combine our magic. Creation plus emotion equals baby I guess.”

“Right.” Sans says, confusion fading away for casual acceptance. It’s nice, Ink thinks, how accepting his brothers are of his oddities. “So where’s Dream then?”

Ink does not look at Sans. Instead he focuses on Papyrus, who has begun playing peek-a-boo with Palette on the floor. Palette giggles. Sans stares daggers in Ink’s skull.

“Ink. Dream is the other parent, right? Why isn’t he here.”

“He left.” Ink says, risking a glance at his brother just in time to see Sans’ eye twitch.

“He left.”

“Dream didn’t see the kid before he left. I didn’t either, or else I would have made him stay.”

Sans closes his eyes and exhales. “Okay. Sure. Are you going to tell him?”

“Yes.” Ink says. There’s no hesitation in the answer. Ink may keep secrets, a lot of them, but he also knows how important this is. Ink would never hide Dream’s kid from him.

Not when they know that he’d absolutely lose it if anyone tried to take Palette away from Ink.

“I just want to wait for him to calm down a bit. Aster suggested waiting for a week or so and then going to visit him.” Ink finishes. Sans thinks about the plan and then shrugs.

“Sounds good to me. Let me know if anything happens though. I’d gladly take a swing at the guy who knocked my brother up.”

Ink blanches. “What- ew! No! I was never- he just popped up! We never did that! Ugh, that's so gross!”

Sans laughs at Ink’s discomfort, the horrible brother that he is. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to not make jokes about this. I was running out of material, but you just birthed plenty of new jokes for me. Now move aside, I want to meet my nephew.”

Ink huffs, pouting, but he moves over anyways. Sans settles down next to Papyrus, who gladly raises up Palette to show him off.

Ink watches for a bit, warmth and positivity swirling around inside him as his brothers welcome their nephew with open arms and smiles. Ink isn’t sure what he was expecting from his family, but their easy acceptance has loosened the blue and purple from his bones a bit. Palette has people now, people who know what to do with kids or who care a lot even if they don’t.

If anything happens to Ink, Palette will be taken care of. And even if Ink is fine, it never hurts to have more people who love his son.

Hopefully, Dream will love Palette too.

Ink shakes away the thought. Whatever happens with Dream later doesn’t matter right now. Palette has a family now, a world where he can stay and be safe. Ink will have to stay in ZephyrTop more often to raise Palette, but they’re fine with that. It’s a change Ink is willing to make.

It’s not a sacrifice though, Ink thinks as he sits down on the floor with his kid and his brothers. Nothing he does for his family is ever a sacrifice.

~~

“You really should get some rest.” Top says, standing up front the couch. Sans and Papyrus had left not long ago after meeting Palette, and Aster had gone to bed after a cup of tea. Top, Ink, and Palette had been the only ones to stay in the living room.

Ink doesn’t look up for more than a second before their gaze returns to the sleeping kid in his arms. “I’m not tired.” Ink says. He’s never tired - a perk of not being able to feel anything.

Top laughs. “You will be soon. Trust me.”

Ink doesn’t respond. He does trust Top, especially when it comes to kids. That’s why he came to ZephyrTop. But it’s strange when it’s his own kid. Because Ink made him. He made life, in this little skeleton with starry eyes and a little hands and quiet snores.

Ink had never been sure that he could feel love, really feel it in the way that everyone else seems to. What they feel for Palette, though, seems to be what he’s heard described. It’s so much, the emotions that stir within him whenever Ink looks at Palette, but it’s perfect. Ink wants to keep these feelings, this love, this child, forever.

A gentle hand settles on top of Inks. He looks up as Top guides his hand closer to the small of Palette’s back, adjusting Ink’s hold.

“There.” Top says. “That should be more comfortable for both of you.”

Ink blinks. Vaguely, it registers to him that he probably hasn’t been holding Palette right. It’s all been tight air hugs and cradling arms.

“Thanks Dad.” Ink whispers, gaze returning to Palette. Top sighs, but there’s a fondness to it.

“Try and rest some, Ink.” He says. “We’ll get a bed for the kid tomorrow. For now, just keep him in your room.”

Ink nods distractedly. Top takes hold of his shoulder and pulls him forwards, careful not to jostle Palette in the process. Ink hardly looks where he is going as Top guides them to Ink’s room. At some point, Ink finds himself in bed with Palette next to him. It’s hard to tear his eye sockets away from his son, but eventually Ink’s colors fade into a dark cyan, allowing him to fall asleep to the sound of soft breathing.

~~

The next few days pass by surprisingly quickly. Palette settles in well, fitting neatly into Ink’s family with ease. Aster and Top love carrying Palette around almost as much as Ink. Sans and Papyrus stop by every day to see their nephew. They slowly discover which foods Palette can eat and what he won’t. Yellow has become a dominating color of Ink’s own emotional palette, regardless of the amount of paint that he drinks.

It’s an amazing experience, watching as Palette learns new things. Everything is new to a baby, and Ink gets excited every time Palette gets excited about new things. Each day is full of new learning experiences for both Ink and Palette.

Each day is also full of stress and mistakes.

Ink, with his lack of appetite and regular meal schedule, forgets to feed Palette. His dads catch it the first time, but the second time it happens nobody notices until Palette is crying from hunger. Ink feeds the kid through tears of his own once he realizes, but only gets halfway through before Aster hands the spoon full of mushy carrots to Top and guides Ink away so Palette can eat in peace.

Top and Aster create a schedule for Palette after that, with meals and nap times planned. Ink sets daily alarms on his phone and prints out several laminated schedules. He decorates it with stickers and hangs it up on the fridge and in their room, with extra copies stored away with his paints.

Sleep is a struggle too. Ink doesn’t need it, not really, but he has grown used to it. It’s nice, a good way to unwind when stressed. With Palette, though, sleep does not come easily.

Apparently babies sleep all the time, except for when their parent wants to sleep. Then the baby is back up and crying. Palette looks toddler aged, but he alternates between being full of energy and absolutely exhausted so fast that even Ink can’t keep up.

When he does fall asleep, it’s often to movement. Palette loves being carried around and held. He sleeps best in someone's arms. As soon as he is set down, though, he’s awake again.

Ink thanks his lucky stars that Palette is a cheerful baby. Even when awoken unexpectedly, Palette just smiles and laughs. He only really fusses when he needs something or if he is set down for too long.

Palette’s constant need of attention and contact is fine until Ink needs to actually do his job and can’t take Palette with him. For all that Ink doesn’t know about kids, he does know that they can’t be left alone for long.

His brothers, the kind souls they are, had both offered to babysit for Ink after they met Palette. Ink quickly takes Sans up on the offer so that he can go steal some toys and clothes while checking up on the multiverse. Usually, Sans will cover for Ink and the various mishaps he gets into, no questions asked. This time though, he decides to be annoying about it.

“I’m just saying.” Sans says as he hands Palette over to Ink’s impatient arms. “You probably shouldn’t steal if you don’t want your kid to do it too.”

“Why wouldn’t I want Palette to know how to steal? It’s a good skill to have.” Ink snaps. He had taken a bit too much red earlier, making him irritable and snappy. Being separated from Palette to go take care of the multiverse had put him in an even worse mood.

“Sure,” Sans shrugs. “Not my kid.”

Ink scowls and turns away, stomping past the bag of kid toys on the floor. Trust Sans to be argumentative. He stops at the sigh Sans lets out though.

“Look, I’m not trying to start a fight. It’s not even really about the stealing.” Sans says.

Ink pushes down the irritation bubbling underneath his bones. Why couldn’t people ever just say what they mean? Why do they have to dance around the truth so much? “What is it about then.”

“Ink. I know you have a job to do, and that you have a lot of… wanderlust. But you’ve had a kid for less than two days and you’re already running off.”

All of the sharp red blades in Ink’s bones dulls into shields. “I’m not running off.” Ink argues, adjusting his hold on Palette to be more stable. “I had to fix some glitches and I decided to get stuff for Palette. I can’t take him through portals. They make him sick.”

“Okay.” Sans says, conceding. “I didn’t know that. But Ink, you didn’t tell me why you wanted me to come over. You just gave me your kid and disappeared.”

Ink opens his mouth to defend himself, but Sans doesn’t stop. “I knew you were going to come back - you always come back. And I know you care about us. But kids are different. They don’t understand things the same way adults do.”

“I know that.” Ink says, curling around Palette. The red had faded once Sans had told Ink he wasn’t worried that they wouldn’t come back, but there was still a strong desire for Ink to defend his actions. Ink had his reasons for leaving. Ink has reasons for everything they do.

“Ink.” Sans says. “Palette started crying as soon as you left.”

The hot, bubbling feelings in Ink drop away, leaving only a navy-purple guilt-horror-fear. “...what?”

“It was fine. He calmed down after like, five minutes. But Ink, you’re his dad. I know it’s new to you, but you have to figure out how you’re going to balance this.”

Ink swallows down the paint climbing up his throat. Palette is warm against his bones, even through his shirt. The kid is playing with the end of Ink’s scarf, babbling while he does so. There is no water in his eyes, no tears tracks on his face, but all Ink can see is how upset Palette had been after going through a portal for the first time. How the kid had reached so desperately for Ink, as if they could do anything to get rid of Palette’s pain.

“I… I can’t stay here all the time.” Ink says, but it’s not a defense anymore. It's a plea, an admission of guilt, the complete and utter truth. Because Ink does have a job to do, no matter how much he’d like to be in ZephyrTop more. It’s one of the few things about Ink’s life he regrets - just how little time he spends with his family now that so much is happening in the multiverse at once.

Sans pulls Ink’s scarf from Palette’s mouth. “I’m not saying you have to. Everyone has stuff to do, even parents. That’s why we’re here - to step up when you can’t. But being Palette’s parent means being here for him. He’s your responsibility now.”

“I know.” Ink admits, quiet and agreeable now that the red had been drowned by a cold ocean of shame.

“Okay.” Sans smiles, and for once it isn’t mocking or full of mirth. It’s kind, and a bit pitying, and Ink doesn’t know how to feel about this caring, protective side of his brother that he rarely sees.

“I’m sorry.” Ink says, because he didn’t just mess up with Palette. Sans wasn’t lying when he had said Ink had ditched both him and Palette for several hours without warning or explanation.

Sans blinks, almost surprised by Ink’s too easy admission of guilt. Ink’s brother knows just as well as anyone that Ink never apologizes. Sans moves past it easily though, shrugging off Ink’s guilt.

“No worries.” Sans says. “You got stuck with a pretty rough hand. I mean, seriously, no paternity leave? Not even for the protector of the multiverse? What has the world come to.”

Ink snorts, causing Palette to startle and stare at him. Sans laughs at the kid’s wide eyed gaze.

“C’mon.” Sans pulls Ink and Palette towards the kitchen. “It’s almost lunch time. Let’s see if Dad can whip up something Palette-able for the kid to eat.”

~~~

“This shouldn’t take long.” Ink mocks. Aster’s wings fluff, tail flicking in irritation. Papyrus laughs from where he is entertaining Palette while Ink and Aster try to build the toddler bed Top had found.

It had been difficult to get. At first they had tried a crib, but Palette was a bit too big for it. More importantly, Palette disliked it. Ink would have been content to just carry Palette around or let him sleep with Ink, but his parents had insisted that Palette needed his own bed. Something about learning to sleep on his own. Thus, the search for furniture began. It was a long, difficult quest, but eventually Top had found a toddler bed that was deemed good enough by Ink.

The only issue was that it had to be built from scratch. Top had gotten out of the torture of building furniture by virtue of finding the bed. Sans had fallen asleep only minutes in, and Papyrus had been tasked with entertaining Palette.

That left Aster and Ink to search through screws and piece together the bed. Aster had entered with a rather positive attitude that was quickly diminishing.

“We need a toggle bolt.” Aster says. Ink reaches into the pile of bits and bobs in front of him and pulls out the screw, tossing it to Aster. Palette giggles in the background.

Aster shakes his head, turning to Ink. “This is the wrong size. I need the smallest one.”

“That’s the only one we have left.” Ink says. Aster can’t move his arms due to how he is holding the bed frame together, but he leans back and looks through the screw pile the best he can.

Aster sighs. “We must have lost it. Ink, could you go try and find one.”

Ink holds out his hand, magic gathering. A bolt falls into it. “Here.” He says.

Aster takes the bolt and begins to screw it in. He stops. “Ink? Could you have just made the bed with magic?”

Ink blinks. “Oh yeah. I guess I could have.”

Sans cackles from on top of Ink’s bed. Ink glares at him.

“Brother!” Papyrus exclaims in indignation. “I thought you were asleep!”

Ink flicks a wrist, magic gathering around the bed and filling in the unfinished parts. A spot of ink just so happens to land on Sans’ face in a rather unflattering shape. Ink laughs as Sans yelps and tries desperately to wipe it off, Palette’s giggle joining soon after.

Aster stands, groaning and popping his back. “Ink, please don’t use magic against your brothers.” he requests, wings folding and unfolding in a stretch. Rolling his eyelights, Ink dispels the stain from Sans’ face.

“Thank you.” Aster says, picking Palette up from Papyrus’ lap. Ink hops up and grabs Papyrus’ hands, hauling his brother to his feet.

Aster approaches the bed, with its yellow and blue blankets and brown frame. Carefully, he sets Palette down on the mattress. Ink throws a few stuffed animals in, making sure to include a chicken the Palette has taken a strong liking to.

Everyone in the room waits for the moment of truth. Palette, perfectly content, begins to chew on the ear of a green stuffed dog.

Aster sighs in relief. “There.” He says. “Now he can sleep in his own bed.”

Ink doesn’t respond. All the frustration has faded from him, but so has the joy. Cobalt exhaustion begins to lace through him as lavender makes its way into Ink’s bones.

The room is quiet. Ink can feel eyes on him as he leans against the bed frame tiredly. Palette coos at him , and Papyrus turns towards Sans.

“Brother, you did not help with construction so you will help with dinner!” Papyrus scolds, dragging Sans out of bed and out of the room, ranting about how rude the shorter skeleton is for pretending to fall asleep in a low voice.

It’s sweet, how Papyrus has taken to quieting his voice around Palette. It’s also sweet how quickly he caught on to Ink’s mood switch.

Aster wraps a wing around Ink. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” Ink says. He is- everything is going so well. His family is happy and safe and together. Palette has his own bed in Ink’s room that he seems to like. Everything should be good. Ink doesn’t know why a persistent navy is insisting on clinging to his other emotions.

Aster hums. “You know, it’s okay to have mixed feelings about your kid. Especially if you didn’t expect them.”

Ink doesn’t respond, so Aster continues. “Ink, I didn’t get a chance to watch you or your brothers grow up. You’re my kids, but I missed so much of your life. I’m so proud of the people you are, I just wish I could have seen who you used to be. It’s something I regret, even if I can’t change it. Now, though? I get to watch you grow into a parent. I get to see Palette grow up and your brothers become uncles to him. It’s exciting.”

Ink leans into Aster. “I am happy.” He insists softly. “I just… feel sad too? I don’t know why.”

“Top may understand this better.” Aster says, “But watching your kids change? Grow into new people? That's pretty scary. Can make you feel nostalgic for something you had just a few weeks ago. You just got Palette, and things are already changing. There’s no shame in feeling strange about it.”

“It’s not that.” Ink says. “Well, it’s not just that.”

Aster hums again. It’s silent for a moment as he waits for Ink to continue.

“...Dream doesn’t get to see this.” Ink mutters. “Palette’s got a favorite toy. He has foods he doesn’t like, and has already switched where he sleeps twice. This morning, he started to babble. Top said that means he could be able to speak soon. If I can’t talk to Dream before that, he’ll miss Palette’s first words.”

At Ink’s confession, Aster pulls him into a hug. “I know it’s hard.” He says. “But it isn’t your fault that he left. You’re letting him have his space. That’s the best thing you can do.”

Ink tries not to let his eyes water, but the navy has started to overtake his other colors. “What if he doesn’t care? If he’s still mad, or if he doesn’t want a kid.”

“Then we’ll take care of it. You’re not alone in this - you’ll have us.”

‘But I want Dream too’ Ink thinks. He doesn’t dare say it. It feels selfish, wrong, to say that like his family hadn’t dropped everything to help Ink raise his kid. A dark, guilty plum starts to intertwine with the navy blue. Ink squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will the emotions away.

A little noise breaks through the silence. “Ba?”

Ink startles, pulling away from Aster to look at Palette, who is standing on his bed, leaning against the little side wall. There’s something like confusion on Palette’s face and there are tears in his eyes.

“Aw.” Ink coos, turning to pick up Palette. “Did we leave you alone for too long Pal?”

Palette grips onto Ink’s scarf, staring into Ink’s eyes as Ink adjusts his grip to copy what Top had shown him. Ink nuzzles into Palette’s forehead and the kid giggles, tears practically evaporating at the attention.

“Why don’t you lay down with Palette for a bit.” Aster suggests gently. “You haven’t been sleeping much- some rest might make you feel better. I’ll come get you when dinner is ready.”

“Alright.” Ink says, walking over to his bed. A nap does sound nice- Top had been right about Ink being tired more after that first night. Setting Palette down, Ink takes off his scarf and goes to hang it up.

Aster stops him before he can return to Palette. “Ink.” He says gently. “If things don’t go well with Dream, we’ll be here. No matter what. Top knows what you’re going through. He’s been a parent for longer than I have, and he was alone for most of it. He got through it, and you will too. Talk to him too, if anything happens.”

“Okay, Dad.” Ink says. Aster smiles and gives Ink one last hug before leaving the room.

Ink lays down. Palette stares at him sleepily.

“Don’t worry Pal.” Ink says, reaching out to swipe away some drool from Palette’s mouth. “I’m talking to Dream soon, and I just know he’s going to love you, even if he’s mad at me. It’s all going to work out…”

Palette grabs at Ink’s thumb and brings it to his mouth. Ink swallows down the dark purple worry and focuses on the sunny yellow emotions his kid brings out.

~~~

Five days after Palette is born, Ink leaves him with Aster and Top to go and see Dream.

There’s more of a search involved than Ink was expecting. He looked for the guardian at his house in the Omega Timeline first, then the multiple hospitals and charities that Dream often went to. All of it was a bust.

Haventale was just as disappointing. Ink only had to stop by for a moment to see the Dream wasn’t there recharging on positivity.

His final option, before resorting to asking Core Frisk for help, was to check Underswap. Blue and Dream had become close friends surprisingly quickly, and Dream spent quite a bit of time with the Swap skeleton.

Ink wasn’t jealous of the friendship, but he was a bit perplexed. The Swap Sans was interesting, sure, and fun to joke with, but no more so than several other characters. Still, it was worth checking the world out, especially if Dream was still upset from their argument.

Popping up on the porch of Blue’s house, Ink knocks on the door and waits. He had been lectured enough about invading people’s personal space over the years, even more so when Blue had joined their little team. Ink really didn’t need to rehash that argument when there were more important things to discuss.

A faint sound of voices that Ink hadn’t really registered halted. Footsteps come closer, and the door creaks open.

Ink tries not to be too disappointed at the sight of Blue standing in the doorway.

“Ink?” Blue says, sounding very awkward and maybe a bit confused.

“Hi. Have you seen Dream?” Ink asks, cutting past Blue’s lackluster greeting. Blue seems to stiffen at that, looking back over his shoulder into the house. Ink tries to look behind Blue to see what is so interesting, but Blue swiftly steps out of the house, closing the door behind him.

“Ink, what are you doing here?” Blue asks, as if Ink hadn’t made it very clear why they were here.

“I need to talk to Dream.” Ink explains, trying not to feel irritated. It’s easy enough, as he had taken very little red that morning in the hope of staving off another fight when he did find Dream.

Blue winces, fiddling with his bandana. “Dream… doesn’t really want to see you right now.”

“He… doesn’t?” Ink says. The words come out much more uncertain than he would have liked. “Is he still upset?”

“Yes?”

“Oh.” Ink wilts as purple-blue disappointment eats away at his orange hope and courage. “Oh. Is- does he need more space? Because- I waited a week. To- to talk to him. I was told- I mean, I thought that a week was enough time for him to calm down a bit.”

Blue looks at Ink weirdly. Ink doesn’t have the motivation to decipher it. He’s spent days trying to both avoid thinking about the upcoming talk with Dream and imagining what might happen. It had left him exhausted.

“Hasn’t it only been a couple of days?” Blue asks.

Ink blinks. “It’s been five days. That’s a business week.”

“Okay. Well, waiting doesn’t really… fix this? And Dream doesn’t want to see you right now.”

Ink blinks, careful to keep his expression as blank as possible. Don’t cry, he thinks. Do not start crying on the Swap Sans that you barely know.

“Okay.” Ink says, and his voice is not thick with navy tears. It’s not.

Blue looks panicked. Ink isn’t sure why. He starts to turn away towards the remains of his portal, but Blue interrupts him first.

“I can give him a message?” Blue blurts out. Ink stops, head turning back to look at Blue.

It’s so, so tempting. But Ink has no idea what to say. He hadn’t planned on having to give a message, he had wanted to talk to Dream in person. This news was too big to hear secondhand.

“It’s okay.” Ink finally says. “Could you just… tell him I was here? And that I need to talk to him?”

Blue nods, looking like he was regretting this entire awkward conversation. Ink could relate.

“Thanks Blue.” Ink says, stepping into his portal back to the Doodle Sphere.

~~

“I suppose the fact that you’re out here means it didn’t go well.” Top says. Ink doesn’t look up. He just keeps drawing circles in his sketchbook

“He wouldn’t even see me.” Ink says. He had spent some time in the Doodle Sphere catching up on the happenings of the multiverse after talking with Blue, but the time alone hadn’t calmed him down much. Eventually, Ink had returned to ZephyrTop to retrieve his sketchbook.

Art has always helped Ink. It helps him remember things, helps him work through and understand his emotions, helps him calm down. But right now, there’s no inspiration. Ink had opened his sketchbook and been met with a complete and total lack of ideas. He had started drawing circles and lines to just fill pages and distract his mind, but it was inevitable that someone would eventually find him sitting out on the porch.

Top sits down next to Ink. “Did he leave when you found him?”

“No. I didn’t even see him. He was at Blue’s house, and I think he sent Blue to tell me to leave.”

Top hums. “So you didn’t get a chance to tell him about Palette.”

“No.” Ink says, curling up on himself, sketchbook falling to the wayside.

“Ink.” Top starts. “I know that you want Dream to be in Palette’s life, but that may not be feasible for a while. If he’s unwilling to even talk to you, how is he going to act around Palette?”

“Dream loves kids.” Ink defends. “He wouldn’t be mean to Palette. He’s not mean to anyone.”

“That’s not my concern. If you and Dream are constantly fighting, it’s going to distract from Palette and his well being. A kid shouldn’t see their parents fighting constantly.”

“So what do I do?” Ink snaps. “Not tell Dream that he has a kid? Tell him and then cut him out of Palette’s life? I’m not giving up.”

“I’m not saying to give up on Dream.” Top soothes. “I just mean that, if he refuses to talk to you, you may have to think about what options you have for raising Palette. Of course you should keep trying, but… pretty soon, you may want to start thinking about what you’ll do if Dream isn’t present in Palette’s life.”

Ink slumps against Top. “I don’t want that.”

“I know.” Top says quietly. “But it’s a real possibility you have to prepare for, even if it is a temporary one.”

Ink breathes. It helps to calm down the roiling colors in him. “I’m going to keep trying. But… I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.” Top says.

They sit in silence for a bit. The lack of judgement, of pressure, helps.

“I don’t know what to do.” Ink finally admits.

“Maybe seeing each other in person is too much right now.” Top suggests. “You could send him a letter?”

Ink flies up, lightbulbs and sparks in his eyes. “Oh! Blue offered to deliver a message for me! If I write a letter and Blue gives it to him, maybe Dream will read it!” Ink turns and wraps his arms around Top before running off. “Thanks Dad! I’m gonna go find Papyrus!”

~~~

Ink taps his pen on the blank piece of paper in front of him.

“Maybe you need to be less formal.” Papyrus suggests as he throws away Ink’s latest attempt at a letter.

“Okay. That shouldn’t be hard. I’m great at being informal.” Ink says, placing the tip of the pen down.

Papyrus sits back down and waits for Ink to begin writing. The pen starts to bleed onto the paper.

“Should I start with his name? Or just skip it entirely?” Ink finally asks. Papyrus raises his hand to his chin as he tilts his head and thinks.

“His name.” Papyrus decides firmly. “He should know that this is sincere and meant just for him.”

“Okay.” Ink says, writing ‘Dream’ at the top of the paper before moving down to create a new line. He hesitates. “What now?”

“You could say that the fate of the multiverse is at stake. Or that you have a terminal illness.” Sans suggests as he walks into the kitchen, a sleeping Palette in his arms.

“No!” Papyrus yells. Palette whines and begins to stir. Papyrus freezes.

“Look what you did.” Sans hisses, pacing back and forth to try and soothe Palette back to sleep.

“Sorry.” Papyrus whispers. Sans huffs, slowing down as Palette settles again. He turns away from Ink and Papyrus.

“I am going to go sit down somewhere quieter.” Sans says, glancing at Ink. Ink doesn’t protest, so Sans takes that as consent to leave with Palette. “You nerds have fun with your letter writing session.”

Papyrus and Ink wait until Sans and Palette are out of the room to turn back to their latest draft. Ink sighs.

“It wouldn’t work anyways.” Ink says. “Dream knows I don’t get sick, and I can’t exactly make up a new multiversal threat. Not one that’s believable.”

“Do not fear, brother!” Papyrus says, careful not to raise his voice too loud. “We will find the perfect way to convince your friend to talk to you! We simply need to convey that if he does not see you soon, the rest of our family will break down his door and make him!”

Ink laughs. “You know I haven’t told him about you yet, right?”

“Yes.” Papyrus nods. “And we all respected that decision, even if I do very much want to meet him. However, I believe that our parents are getting very impatient with him. As are Sans and I.”

Ink laughs. Papyrus grins even wider at the sound, before returning to the serious business that is letter writing.

“Are you sure you do not want to simply tell him everything over a letter?” Papyrus asks. Ink shakes his head.

“No. I need to tell him about Palette in person.” Ink says. Papyrus nods solemnly.

“I understand. Maybe…” Papyrus stops, glancing at Ink in hesitation. “Maybe you could apologize?”

Ink’s paints, which have been an uncreative mess of murky gray all day, start to rile up. Red, which has been rather weak recently, starts to battle against strong blue and purple. Above it all, Ink can taste the guilt that he has been trying so hard to suppress. Ink takes a deep breath to steady himself and lets out a sigh.

“I can’t.” Ink says.

“But why not?” Papyrus pleads with him. “You need to talk to him - tell him that you want to apologize, or that you regret what you said.”

Ink shakes his head. “I can’t say those things. They wouldn’t be true. I don’t…” Ink hesitates here, before confessing. “I don’t really remember what our fight was about.”

Papyrus blinks. “You… don’t remember?”

“Well- I remember the gist.” Ink shrugs. “We fought about the multiverse again, and what we should do to help it, and how our jobs technically go against each other. But… I don’t remember what I exactly said. I was riled up, my red had taken over everything, and then Palette happened right after. Most of the fight is just blurry now.”

“Do you regret it though?” Papyrus asks. Ink curls up, pulling his legs into the chair and wrapping his arms around them.

“Yes.” Ink whispers as he rests his face on top of his knees. “I don’t like fighting with Dream. He’s my friend and I… care about him. And I know that he cares about other people a lot, but I can’t afford to focus on little things or unimportant characters like he does. I’d lose sight of the big picture. That doesn’t mean that I don’t care- I just have to do my job differently than he does his.”

Papyrus claps his hands together. “That’s what you tell him!” He says excitedly.

“What?”

“You need to tell Dream that your job and responsibilities are different from his, just like you told me!” Papyrus explains happily. “From what I’ve heard, everytime you fight, it’s because Dream is upset about something that just happened, so his emotions are clouded. He gets emotional, and so then you get all closed off and defensive!”

“I am not defensive!” Ink defends. Papyrus raises a brow bone. Ink huffs and crosses his arms and legs in defiance.

“We are not talking about your coping mechanisms right now.” Papyrus says firmly, holding out Ink’s abandoned pen to him. “We are writing Dream a letter that says that you care about him, and that you don’t want to fight. You are going to explain that your job means you have to focus on the big things, but it doesn’t mean you don’t care about the little things. And then, you are going to ask to meet up because you have something important to tell him.”

Ink huffs and grabs the pen, trying not to let the bright hope in him grow too much. Papyrus smiles and leans over Ink’s shoulder to read as they write.

Papyrus winces. “Oh- Maybe you shouldn’t say that part about unimportant characters.”

Ink groans and thunks his head on the table as Papyrus crumbles up yet another draft.

“It will be okay Brother! We just need to revise a bit, and everything will work out!” Papyrus cheers as he slides a new piece of paper in front of Ink.

Ink raises his head at the encouragement and starts to write his final draft.

~~

To Blue’s credit, he doesn’t flinch when Ink pops up in his kitchen.

“Hello, Ink.” Blue says without turning away from the counter.

“Hi.” Ink responds over the dull thunk of a knife slicing through vegetables. Blue gathers a handful of diced onions and throws them in a pan on the stove before turning to Ink.

“Dream isn’t here right now, if that's what you’re here for.” Blue says plainly.

“Oh. No.” Ink feels suddenly out of place. “You said you could give him a message for me?”

“Sure. What do you want me to tell him?”

Ink shakes their head, pulling the letter out of his pocket. It’s folded carefully in a neat envelope with Dream’s name written on the front. A small pink star sticker holds the envelope’s flap closed.

“I have a letter.” Ink says. “Could you… deliver it for me?”

Blue wipes his hand on a towel and reaches out to take the letter. Ink lets him.

“I can’t promise that Dream will read it.” Blue states, tucking the letter away. “But I’ll give it to him. Do you have anything that you want me to say? Just in case he doesn’t…”

Blue trials off, but Ink can pick up the hint. If Dream is mad enough, he’ll ignore Ink’s letter, and there won’t be anything that Blue can do about it.

“I’m not sure.” Ink admits. An idea comes to mind, one that Ink doesn’t know how to articulate. He tries anyway. “Could I come back?” Ink asks. “If Dream doesn’t read the letter, I can think about a message. For you to give him.”

Blue looks at Ink, that strange emotion in his eye that Ink doesn’t know how to identify. Before he can respond, though, an alarm blares from Ink’s phone, causing the two skeletons to jump. Ink hurriedly pulls his phone out and swipes the dinner alarm away.

“What was that?” Blue asks, concerned. “Is something happening?”

Inks blinks at him in confusion. “No?” He says, tilting his head as he puts his phone away. “It’s just my dinner alarm.”

“Your… dinner alarm?” Blue asks. Ink nods.

“Yeah! I forget to eat sometimes, so I have an alarm. To remind me!” Ink explains. A little warm burst of emotions pops in his chest. He knows that, right now, his dads are probably feeding Palette and waiting for Ink to get back. Ink hadn’t meant to leave so close to dinner, but the letter writing had taken a lot longer than expected and Ink had wanted to deliver it right away.

“Have you not eaten yet?” Blue asks, glancing between Ink and the kitchen.

“No.” Ink shakes his head. “I mean, I will. Probably. I just wanted to deliver this first.”

“Do you… want to stay?” Blues gestures towards the stove and the simmering food. “I’m making tacos.”

“Sure!” Ink says, skipping towards the kitchen. “I love your tacos!”

“You do? Why- I, I mean, most people don’t like them.”

Ink scoffs at that. “Please, your food always has so much texture! And flavor! It’s amazing!”

“You like my tacos.” Blue says. He seems to be in a state of shock. “Even the glitter ones?”

“Duh? You’re basically the only person I know who can use glitter well in food.” Ink says, excluding himself from the list. Blue looks at the meat and onion mixture on the stove, then back at Ink.

“I was going to try and add pasta to my tacos for the next council meeting.” Blue says, steely silver determination in his voice. “Do you want to taste test them for me?”

Stars fill Ink’s eyes. “Do I!”

Blue pulls a pot out of a cabinet. “Fill this up with water.” He says. “We’ll cook the pasta and then add it to the filling.”

Ink fills the pot as Blue grabs loose spaghetti sticks from a bag. Soon, they have a mixture of taco meat, onions, and spaghetti inside a crunchy taco shell.

Ink takes a bite and considers it. Blue waits for his opinion like a nervous chef on a cooking show.

“It’s good.” Ink says. “But there’s something missing. I think you need more stuff.”

Blue considers this. “Maybe a tomato sauce? Tacos and spaghetti can both have tomatoes in them, that could tie them together more.”

Ink nods. “That would definitely help! But I think it needs more chunks of stuff too, not just a sauce. Or something spicy. Mexican food should be spicy.”

“Oh!” Blue exclaims, snapping his fingers. “I could add peppers! That would add more of a crunch and a spicy kick.”

Ink is practically salivating at the thought of it. “That sounds good!” He says, finishing off his spaghetti taco. Blue beams at him.

This is nice. Ink wonders why he hasn’t hung out with Blue before- he’s pretty fun, even if there are a lot of him. This Blue, though, is definitely Ink’s favorite version of Underswap Sans so far. Dream had made a good choice, befriending him.

Ink decides to say so. “We should hang out more!” He says, kicking his feet back and forth as he waits for Blue to finish his own taco. Blue startles, looking at Ink in surprise.

“Hm?” He says through a mouthful of food. Ink laughs- it’s nice to know he’s not the only one who tries to talk while eating. Screw what everyone else says about manners. Ink and Blue are clearly superior to them.

“You’re fun!” Ink compliments. “You should come by the Doodle Sphere more. I could show you my art, and we could cook stuff together.”

“I- um.” Blue pauses to wipe his mouth. “I can’t get to the Doodle Sphere.”

“You can’t? Why not?” Ink asks, tilting his head.

“I can’t make my own portals.” Blue says. There’s a faint cyan blush on his cheek bones, and he looks almost ashamed to admit it. “I can access the Omega Timeline because of the teleporter Core gave me, but if I want to go anywhere else then I have to ask Dream to take me.”

Huh. Ink considers this, not bothering to hide his slight surprise.

“Oh!” He exclaims, lightbulb going off in his mind. He holds out his hand, inky magic gathering. A small cyan star pin falls from the little ink blob. It’s a pretty color that matches Blue’s eyes and will contrast nicely with the darker cobalt of his bandana. Ink tosses it to Blue. “This can take you to the Doodle Sphere! I can give you access to the worlds there, and then you can go anywhere you want!”

Blue fumbles a bit, but manages to catch the pin. He stares at his cupped hands in awe. “You’re… giving this to me?”

Ink shrugs. “Yeah, why not. We can talk more and you can go places without relying on Dream.”

“Wow. Thank you, Ink.” Blue says, pinning the star neatly onto his bandana. Ink was right - it does contrast nicely against the cloth.

“Sure thing.” Ink says, hopping up from his seat and picking up Broomie. “I need to head out, but feel free to stop by whenever.”

“You too, Ink.” Blue says softly. “And not just for Dream. You should visit for yourself. I’d be happy to hang out more.”

“Thanks pal.” Ink says, smiling as a yellow-blue swirl of oceans and stars fill him at the words. Ink isn’t sure when he last felt this affectionate about someone outside his family. With Dream, probably, but even that had been different.

Ink summons a portal. The last thing he sees before returning to ZephyrTop is Blue’s beaming face.

Things had gone better this time, Ink thinks as he pops back up in ZephyrTop. Ink and Blue are maybe friends now, at least more so than before. Dream hadn’t been there to ignore him and Papyrus had been sure that the letter was perfect. Hopefully, Blue can make Dream read the letter and it will be able to convince Dream to meet with Ink.

All that’s left is to wait for Dream’s response.

Chapter Text

There’s someone in the Doodle Sphere.

Ink can feel the portal being ripped open, knows there’s someone in his home, but he doesn’t leave right away. He can’t.

“I love to share the magic of the shining skies above.” Ink reads aloud, giving Palette a moment to look at the photos in the kids book they’re reading before turning the page.

Palette sucks on his thumb, fully engrossed in the picture book. Just a moment ago, Ink had been to. Now, though, Ink’s mind is torn between two places, lavender and crimson interrupting the cerulean-sunflower moment. He tries to focus on the moment, to continue reading to Palette, but he can’t help but shift his attention to what is happening in the DoodleSphere.

Whoever is there has no ill intent, Ink can tell that much. Their magic is familiar too, so it’s likely someone Ink knows. Those two details are what keeps Ink in ZephyrTop, reading a children's book, instead of running to kick some intruder out of his home.

It could be Blue, Ink thinks as he reads absentmindedly. The Swap Sans hadn’t visited the DoodleSphere yet, but Ink knows his magic fairly well. It’s the most logical explanation too.

It’s also the outcome Ink is hoping for. It had only been two days since he had visited Blue and given him free access to the DoodleSphere, but Blue could have news from Dream.

Even if he doesn’t, Ink is a bit excited to see him anyways, yellow and orange bubbles dancing in his rib cage at the idea. As far as Ink is aware, Blue hasn’t actually explored much of the multiverse outside of the Omega Timeline and a select few other worlds. Ink would love to share more of the multiverse with his new friend, to show Blue all the amazing things that it holds.

Luckily, Ink doesn’t have to wait for much longer to go to the DoodleSphere. Palette yawns as they reach the end of the book, and a quick look at the color coded schedule Ink has pinned on the wall shows that it is nearly naptime for the kid.

Settling Palette into his bed, Ink changes out of the more casual clothes he’s started wearing into his normal outfit. He hums as he pulls on his scarf and waits for Palette to fall asleep. The bed has been working well, allowing Palette to sleep longer stretches of time without him waking up or throwing a fit.

Only a few minutes pass before Palette seems to drift off. Ink slips out the door and shoots a text to Top before portalling to the DoodleSphere.

Popping up inside of his living room, Ink rights himself and settles Broomie against a wall. He hasn’t been to the DoodleSphere very much since Palette was made, but the place doesn’t look any worse off for it. It still looks and feels like home.

Still humming a bit, Ink turns to go looking for Blue elsewhere, warm excitement and content flowing through his bones. A yellow clad skeleton blocks his way.

Ink freezes mid step. Dream stands in his doorway, looking nervous, a piece of paper gripped tightly in his hands.

“Ink.” Dream says, hesitation in his voice. “I… got your letter.”

Ink stares at Dream in shock, emotions flaring as he tries to figure out what to say. They hadn’t been expecting him, hadn’t been able to prepare.

Dream shuffles in place as Ink fails to do anything.

“Can we… talk?” Dream asks, breaking the silence. It knocks Ink out of his stupor, as startling shock and hope and panic flood his system.

“Yes!” Ink says, too fast and desperate. Dream looks a little surprised, like he hadn’t expected such a reaction. Ink tries to calm their emotions for him.

“Yes.” Ink says, quieter. He steps aside, shuffles his feet a bit, before deciding to sit down on the couch. Dream hesitates for a moment, then stiffly walks over and settles next to Ink.

The silence is uncomfortable. Ink isn’t used to not knowing what to say, especially when it comes to Dream. Usually Ink would just start rambling, would throw himself over Dream to get the guardian to relax a bit.

He can’t do that now though. The things they need to talk about are too big, too important, for Ink to be careless. So Ink waits for Dream to speak, allowing the guardian to start their conversation.

“Ink, I appreciate the letter, and the apology. I do. But, I don’t… I don’t know what you want from this. How we’re supposed to work together.”

Ink blinks. There’s something cold and painful slithering behind his ribs, trying to smother the hope that had bloomed when he first saw Dream. He ignores it, placing a hand on one of Dream’s clenched fists. “We’ll figure it out. We’re friends.”

“Are we?” Dream asks, soft and quiet. Ink reels back.
“Yes!” Ink says. “Of course we are, Dream you- You’re my best friend! Just because we’ve been fighting doesn’t mean I don’t care about you!”

“What about everyone else?”

Ink blinks. “What?”

“What about everyone else?” Dream repeats. “You care about me, sure, but you’re constantly ignoring people who need help. Even people we know, people I care about.”

“I- I have to focus on the big picture.” Ink says, stumbling over the words as he recites what he knows was in the letter. “I have different priorities, sure, but I still care, even if I can’t do as much as I want to. Why would- why do you think I don’t care?”

Dream is silent for a moment. Ink waits for him to say something, to calm the aching pain circling where their soul should be.

“You stopped showing up to fights.” Dream finally says. “Do you even remember when Blue first got hurt a few months ago, because you weren’t there?”

“Yes.” Ink says. Dream finally tears his gaze from his hands and looks at Ink.

“Ink, you- you just joked about it afterwards. Blue almost died, and you didn’t care.”

Ink shakes his head desperately, one hand grabbing Dream’s arm. “I did care! I just- worrying wouldn’t do anything, it would just stress you out!”

“Stress me out?” Dream repeats. Ink nods, hoping Dream will listen and understand.

“You literally feel other people's emotions! I know that it’s a bit different with me, but I want you to be happy when we’re together.” Ink explains, as best he can. Dream is staring at him with what Ink thinks is surprise, but their emotions are too frazzled for Ink to properly figure out Dream’s emotions too.

Ink waits for a response, but Dream seems speechless. Dream starts to say something, then cuts himself off.

They need to have this conversation. Ink knows this. But there’s an even more important thing that they need to talk about, and Dream doesn’t know about it, so it’s up to Ink to redirect the conversation.

“Dream, you read the whole letter?” Ink says. Dream seems startled from his stupor.

“Yes.” He answers, and Ink can see the moment of realization. “You… said you had something to tell me.”

“Something important.” Ink elaborates. He hesitates, suddenly afraid, but he needs Dream to know about Palette before anything else happens. Just in case anything else happens.

“When we fought last, something happened. I’m not entirely sure what or why, but our magic- it mixed, I guess. Created someone new.”

Ink watches as confusion then realization comes over Dream’s face. There’s shock, Ink thinks, and maybe denial.

“Ink… What are you saying.” Dream asks, but Ink already knows that Dream has started to put the pieces together.

“I named him Palette.” Ink says, pulling out his phone. He needs to look at something that isn’t Dream. “He’s almost two weeks old, but he looks like a toddler. Top says he may be around a year old developmentally.”

Finding a good picture that Papyrus had taken of Ink and Palette napping on a couch together, Ink turns the phone to Dream. Dream takes it, hands shaky. Tension hangs in the air, sharp and heavy.

Dream stares at the photo. “We have… a kid.”

Ink nods, but he doesn’t know if Dream sees it. His attention is focused on the picture with an intensity Ink isn’t sure they’ve seen in him before.

“Would you- I can take you to meet him.”

Finally, Dream looks up. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to let go of Ink’s phone anytime soon, and shock is still painted all over his face. There’s something else though, desperation and hope and worry.

“Is he here?”

Ink shakes his head. “No. The DoodleSphere isn’t really child friendly.”

“Then where is he?” Dream asks, lurching forward towards Ink, cradling the phone close to his chest.

“Back home,” Ink tries to reassure, placing his hands on Dream’s arms to brace him. “I left him with my parents to come talk to you.”

“Your- parents?” Dream asks.

Ink laughs and nods sheepishly. “Yeah, I uh, I’ve got a family. Surprise? My dads are pretty cool though, I think you’ll like them. They’ve been helping me with Palette a ton.”

“Your dads have been… helping you with our kid?” Dream says. Ink thinks that maybe Dream is panicking.

“Here.” Ink says, standing up. He grabs Broomie again, making a portal on the floor.

Dream stands while he is doing so. Carefully, Ink takes one of Dream's hands and smiles at him before pulling him through the portal.

They more fall through the portal than pop out of it. Ink stumbles a bit, and by the time they right themselves, Dream is already staring at Palette’s crib.

Ink waits silently. This is an important moment, one he doesn’t want to interrupt. Dream approaches the bed, phone slipping from his hand onto the floor. Ink watches carefully as Dream leans over the mesh rails and stares at their son.

At a glance, Palette still seems to be asleep, but Ink can tell that he’s stirring. Palette seems to know when magic is used around him, so he probably felt the portal and woke up even though no one has made any noise yet.

Dream reaches a hand down and delicately strokes Palette’s cheek. The baby’s eyes flutter open, stars bright and clear even behind the half lidded gaze.

Dream jerks back as if burned. Ink rushes forward as Palette begins to whine at the loss of contact, scooping him up with little shushes.

“It’s okay.” Ink says, soft and low. He looks at Dream, who is standing frozen with his hands clutched to his chest.

The words are as much for him as they are for Palette. If Ink knows Dream, the guardian is likely blaming himself for waking up Palette, and that just won’t do.

“Would you like to hold him?” Ink asks, rubbing circles on Palette's back as he begins to chew on Ink’s scarf.

Palette had picked up the bad habit of putting anything he can in his mouth, though Ink isn’t sure where it came from. It calms him down, however, so Ink hasn’t tried too hard to dissuade it.

Dream stands there, looking stricken.

“It’s okay.” Ink repeats, directing it at Dream more firmly. “He always notices when I portal around him. I think he can sense it or something. He’s just a little upset that he woke up, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Dream’s eyes meet Ink’s own. Ink isn’t sure what he sees in them, but it seems to give Dream the nerve to step forward.

“Okay.” Dream says. “Okay.”

Carefully, Ink settles Palette into Dream’s arms. Dream is much better at holding the kid properly than Ink was at first. Palette settles quickly, used to being passed around, though his eyes do dart between Dream and Ink’s faces.

Top had explained at one point that Ink was Palette’s anchor, his comfort and safety. When stressed or unsure, Palette would refer to Ink and see what his guardian was doing. With this in mind, Ink tries to make himself seem calm. He relaxes his shoulders, lets a smile take over his face, softens his eye lights.

The pastel pinks and cyan and yellows swirling through him help immensely with this. Despite the wisteria purple that rooted deep within him when Palette was born, there is no fear in this moment. Just a soft and gentle joy.

Palette turns away from Ink, staring up at Dream. Somehow, he had gotten to Dream’s collar and began to chew it. Ink tries not to giggle at that, but a laugh slips out anyways.

Dream doesn’t seem to notice. He’s staring down at Palette as if he’s the most precious thing alive.

Good. Ink knew this was the right choice.

Palette raises a hand towards Dream's face. Dream stands still, hardly breathing, as he waits to see what the kid will do.

Palette sticks a hand into Dream’s eye socket, grabbing at his eye lights.

Ink lets out a surprised laugh as Dream freezes, but rushes forwards to remove Palette’s hand from his fathers eye.

“No, Pal. We don’t do that.” Ink tries to scold, but his laughter makes the reprimand less strict. Carefully, Ink pulls Palette’s arm down and grabs a plush chicken from the kids bed. Settling the toy into Palette’s arms, the kid happily moves to messing with that instead.

“Sorry. He does that sometimes.” Ink says, letting one hand rest on top of Palette’s skull as he meets Dream’s still shocked eyes. There’s a bit of a blush on the guardian’s face. He must be embarrassed. Ink probably would be too, if anyone had been around when Palette did the same thing to them.

“It’s fine.” Dream says, pulling his eyes away from Ink quickly to look back down at Palette. “He’s- Ink, he’s wonderful.”

Ink beams. “I knew you’d think so! Oh, I was so worried because we were fighting, and Top kept saying that it was fine to be a single parent. But I knew that you would love him as much as I do!”

Dream looks at Ink again, brow bones furrowing in contemplation. “Top?”

“My dad!” Ink says. “Or, one of them. Top is great. He raised my brothers all by himself for the most part, so he has tons of good advice about kids..”

Something in Dream’s face shatters at Ink’s words.

“Your… brothers?”

Oh. Shoot.

Ink freezes. This was supposed to go well. He had wanted to introduce Dream to Palette in a nice way, and bringing up his brothers was a great way to ruin that moment.

“Yeah.” Ink says finally. “I, uh, I’m not actually related to either of them really. Same with my dads. But, you know, found family and all that. I consider Top and Aster my parents, even if they didn’t raise me, and Sans and Papyrus are my brothers, even though we didn’t grow up together.”

Ink runs his thumb over Palette’s skull, back and forth and back and forth. Dream doesn’t say anything, but Ink can’t bring themself to look at their friend's face. Instead they focus on Palette, whose eye lights are slowly looking between Dream and Ink.

Ink swallows down some paint rising in his throat.

“I um…” Ink starts, then stops. He takes a deep breath and clenches his free hand into a fist. Honesty. Communication. Things Ink isn’t always good at, but has been trying to learn. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. But I want you to know that, that you do mean a lot to me. You did even before Palette. You’re one of the most important people in my life, and- and-”

Ink is cut off by an arm wrapping around him. Dream buries his face into Inks shoulder, somehow managing to tightly hug Ink with Palette in between them.

All of Ink’s colors start bubbling, but confusion is the most prominent of them all. Right up until Ink notices Dream’s little shudders, liquid seeping into Ink’s shoulder as Dream cries.

Dream had alway been a quiet cryer. He stifles his sobs, bites his tongue, anything to make it so no one else would see him sad and upset. The few times Ink had seen Dream cry, it was always because the guardian could no longer hold back his tears, and even then it seemed as if Dream was ashamed of his sadness.

Softly, Ink wraps his arms around Dream in return. He runs a hand up and down Dream’s spine in a comforting move he sees Dream himself do to others in distress often. Dream sniffles, and Ink is careful not to shame him for it. They don’t hush Dream or tell him to stop. Ink just stays with him.

“I’m sorry.” Dream eventually chokes out. Ink blinks, but manages to stop himself from pulling back.

“What for?”

Dream pulls away instead, still cradling Palette between Ink and himself. “I left you. To deal with our kid, alone, for weeks. I ignored you on purpose because I knew it would hurt you, just because I was mad at you.”

“But you didn’t know about Palette.” Ink reminds Dream. “And you deserved to be mad, if you thought I didn’t care about you or anyone else.”

Dream starts to say something, then stops. His mouth wobbles, and Ink hears a little whimper. It’s not from Dream though. Glancing down, Ink sees Palette also crying.

A rare moment of realization hits Ink. They aren’t sure if Palette is an empath like Dream or not, but the kid is rather perceptive of when others are upset. On top of that, Ink knows that Dream can feel another’s emotions most strongly when making contact with them- having Palette in his arms is not the smartest thing right now.

It’s a bad feelings feedback loop, and Ink needs to break it before Dream or Palette get any more upset.

“Dream, can I see Palette real quick?” Ink asks, trying not to let his panic show.

Dream shudders and presses Palette into Ink’s arms. Shaking, Dream stumbles over and settles into Ink’s bed.

“I’ll be right back.” Ink promises. Dream doesn’t respond. He just buries his face in his hands.

All but running out the door, Ink hurries downstairs in search of a family member. He sees Top and Aster sit in the living room, and quickly sets Palette down in Top’s lap.

“Dream is here.” Ink says hurriedly at his dad’s surprised face, already turning to run back up to his room. “It’s going fine, please watch Palette for me. Thanks!”

Ink doesn’t wait to hear a response. He’s back to his door as quickly as he had left, practically barreling into the room.

“I’m back!” Ink blurts, shutting the door behind him as gently as he can manage.

Dream looks up, tears falling again. Ink walks over to the bed and sits beside him. “It’s okay.” Ink tries to soothe. “I think Palette was messing with your emotions, so I handed him off to my dads for a bit. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Dream chokes out. “I don’t- Ink, I can’t do this.”

Ink’s stomach sinks. “Can’t do what?”

“This! Be a part of a family, raise a kid!” Dream says, voice raising. “I mean, look at how messed up my relationship with Night is! I don’t know what to do with a kid!”

“That’s okay, no one does!” Ink says, their hands coming up to grasp Dream's own hands. Dream shakes his head.

“You do. You- you were so good with Palette, and all I did was make him upset- I- I can’t…”

“Dream, I’m only good with Palette because I’ve had him for two weeks. I made a ton of mistakes- my dad had to show me how to even hold a baby that first night we had him. It’s fine if you don’t know what to do immediately, you literally just learned that Palette existed!”

Dream pulls his hands away. “Ink, I’m no good at being part of a family. I’ll just ruin it.”

“No you won’t!” Ink pleads. They can hardly see Dream through the tears that have risen in their eyes. “Dream, you and Nightmare’s relationship doesn’t change your ability to be here, to at least try! Please, I can’t do this alone!”

“You won’t be alone, you have your dads and-”

“I want you!” Ink yells, desperate and pleading. “I don’t want to raise Palette alone, I don’t want to end our friendship, I don’t want to have to explain to him why he only had one parent! I want you to be here for his first steps and words, I want you to be a part of my family! Dream, please.”

Ink’s voice stutters and he curls inward, clutching at his arms. He can feel their claws digging into his bones through their shirt, but they can’t bring themself to care.

Warm hands unclench Ink fists. Ink looks up just in time to see Dream as they are pulled into another hug, this one gentler and less desperate than the earlier embrace.

“Okay.” Dream says, voice soft and shaky. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- I didn’t think-”

“You never do.” Ink tries to joke. It falls flat, but Dream laughs wetly anyways. Ink closes his eyes and hugs Dream back.

“I wasn’t trying to leave you.” Dream says, rubbing gentle circles into Ink’s back. “I just… don’t want to mess up with Palette.”

“You won’t.” Ink reassures.

“I don’t want to mess up with you either.” Admits Dream.

Ink shakes his head. “You haven’t. We just had a little tiff, it’s fine.”

Dream snorts. “A tiff?”

“A row.” Ink says pulling away. “A squabble, one may say.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Dream says. Ink smiles.

This is comfortable. This is familiar. This is what Ink had been missing for weeks.

Dream takes Ink’s hand, gently, and leans against him. Ink leans back, even though he knows that it’s going to allow Dream to rest his head on top of their own, the tall bastard.

Dream does exactly that, and Ink isn’t even miffed about the obviousness of the height difference.

“Stars, we’re a mess. We’re going to be awful parents.” Dream says, voice still choked from tears and laughter.

Ink shrugs. “We’ll learn. And we’ll have support. My family’s been great, and I was thinking we could introduce Palette to Blue soon.”

“Really?” Dream says, surprised. “I didn’t know you trusted Blue that much.”

“Blue is great!” Ink defends. “I just didn’t know him that well, but we cooked together so now we’re friends forever.”

Dream hums, smiling. “I’m glad you're getting along.”

“Excuse you, we always got along. We’re just closer now.”

“Uh-huh.” Dream says. “Sure.”

Ink giggles, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really want to start a fight, even if it’s just a pretend one.

It’s silent for a few minutes. Ink closes his eyes and basks in it.

Dream breaks the silence with a little sigh. “Ink… We still need to talk about our roles in the multiverse. I… I don’t know how we’re going to work together going forward. I’d still welcome your help in defending the multiverse against Nightmare, if you’ll offer it. We just… may have to do the other parts of our jobs more separately.”

“But we’ll still be friends?” Ink asks. “Even if we fight, we’ll still be together and raise Palette and hang out?”

“Yes.” Dream says. There’s determination in his voice, laced with regret. “We’ll be friends no matter what.”

“Good.” Ink says, sunflowers blooming behind his closed eyelid, pink bubbles dancing with cyan butterflies in his chest. “Then we can figure the other stuff out later, when we’re less emotional. I can introduce you to my family, and Palette can meet Blue, and we can talk about how to be friends and work together.”

“That sounds nice.” Dream says. Another beat passes before Dream jerks up.

“Wait- is your family here!”

Ink opens one eye. “Yes? I mean, my brothers aren’t but this is my dads house. They’re downstairs watching Palette right now.”

Dream stands suddenly, causing Ink to fall sideways on the bed.

“Hey!” Ink complains, though he doesn’t bother moving.

“Ink!” Dream says, peering into the mirror on the wall as he fusses with his outfits and wipes tears from his eyes. “I look horrible!”

It’s kind of true, Ink thinks. Dream has bags under his eyes and tear stains on his cheeks. His clothes are messy, baby slobber still visible on his collar. Even Dream’s circlet is a bit askew. Still, Ink doesn’t think Dream could ever look horrible.

“You don’t look that bad.” Ink says, mostly because it’s polite. Dream shakes his head and straightens his crown.

“I’m going to make a terrible first impression!” He practically whines. Ink laughs.

“You do know you don’t have to meet them right now, right?”

Dream doesn’t stop fixing himself up, but his movements do slow. “Well, yeah but… I’m going to see them if I’m helping raise Palette, so I’ll be in this world more often. Unless you’re raising him somewhere else?”

“No.” Ink says, shaking his head. He stops when he realizes that Dream isn’t looking at them. “I’m raising Palette in ZephyrTop- oh, this is ZephyrTop by the way.”

“ZephyrTop…” Dream repeats the world name in a quiet whisper, the way he does when he’s processing something he deems important. Ink isn’t sure he was supposed to hear it. Oh well.

“Mhmm. I’m planning on making a place for us soon, so that my parents can have their house back and you can be more comfortable.”

Dream turns, a question in his eyes. “Us?”

“Yeah!” Ink says, shooting up. “I was waiting until we talked to design it, but I’m thinking a little one story place close to here would be nice! We can each have our own room, and I can make a new art studio for me and a garden or something for you! Plus a baby room for Palette, but I don’t know what he likes yet so we’ll have to wait to add anything else for him.”

Dream’s hands clasp together in front of his chest, shaking. “You want me to live with you and Palette?”

Ink tilts his head. A wave of worry goes through them. He hadn’t thought about what to do if Dream didn’t accept. “Yes? Do you not want to?”

Dream shakes his head quickly. “I do! I do, I just… didn’t think about it. So much is changing so fast, I…”

Dream pauses, looking up from his hands to meet Ink’s eyes. He lets out a breath and smiles. “Ink, I’d love to live with you and Palette.”

“Oh, good!” Ink says, ignoring the strange heat in his face, their pink and yellow paint winding a blazing path around their ribs and skull. “Well, there’s no house yet, but I’m sure you can stay the night here. We can just grab some of your stuff and then come back. Maybe you can meet my dads after you’ve changed.” Ink nods towards the baby slobber that seems to have stained Dream’s shirt.

Dream looks down, and Ink tries not to laugh at the slight panic in his eyes. He doesn’t do a very good job if the glare Dream gives him is any indication.

Dream sighs, then smiles at Ink, soft and warm and caring. It’s sunrays and honeycomb and dandelions- everything that Ink has been missing for the past few weeks.

“That sounds good, Ink.”

Ink smiles back, a rainbow of love in his chest, and for the first time in a long time, everything is good.