Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Coming out the shower and noticing that you’d forgotten your towel shouldn’t have been such a big deal. It happens, just shake off as much water from your legs as possible, and then use that quick window of “not too much water running down”-time to run and grab a towel. Easy peasy. Some times that was the most action you’d get in a day, NGL. Thrill seekers make do.

Though the moment you open the door, you get a faceful of Pierrot. The poor guy jumps so high he almost hits the ceiling in surprise. You shall not question why he was camping outside the bathroom, not today.

He seems to be a moment away from apologising for his transgression, when he freezes. You’ve not moved since you opened the door, meaning you're still standing tall (debatable) and proud (eh)… and slowly freezing your buns off causing irreversible water damage on your floor.

There’s a beat of predictable silence as Pierrot takes all of you in, and then…

“One of yours fell off!!!” The sudden outburst of emotion startles you to the Hells and back. Though it’s not long lived as Pierrot immediately starts fluttering around you. Wavering between touching and not touching you, fingers always flitting away before they actually meet your skin. It’s like being attacked by a swarm of introverted butterflies.

Even though he’s clearly upset, his voice keeps the always present even tenor. “Should I call Jester? Doctor? They must know… no, they’re not human, what if they do something wrong?”

You watch with growing worry as Pierrot starts working himself into a frenzy running laps around you, throwing out ideas and "solutions" to your "problem."

You’re still not completely sure what said problem is supposed to be, but it seems serious. Though when looking down on yourself, nothing seems any more amiss than usual.

Though if the sniffles and ongoing panicked muttering is something to go by, he’s seeing something you’re not. You’re slightly worried about the repeated calls for “Doctor” not gonna lie.

As if hit by lightning he runs from one corner of the room to the next, allowing you a small reprieve from his swirling around you. In that window of opportunity you quickly snag up your phone dialling Harlequin.

You know they're not on good terms, but you're pretty sure that guy's the only one who at the current point in time isn't gonna do worse than mock the situation. Also, probably the only one who isn’t gonna go for your throat before asking questions.

"Hellooo?" A very smug voice purrs.

"Harlequin, I need..."

"To make better life choices? Agreed, but what has that to do with me?"

"No... yes. Not the point. Pierrot is freaking out, and I'm not sure how to calm him down. He's been inconsolable for the past 5 minutes, and I'm starting to get worried."
A beat of silence.

"Is it the snake thing again?"

"The snake thing?"

"Yes. When he first found out that snakes just look like... that, he wouldn't stop crying about their lack of limbs. Two hours… I don't know how Jester managed to calm him down, but I'm glad he did. I was one more sob away from strangling that fool."

"... So you don't know how to help calm him down."

The responding silence is deafening. Of course... Harlequin and Pierrot. If anything, Harlequin knew what buttons to push to make Pierrot even more upset. He probably didn't even have the necessary synapsis in his brain to even pretend like he'd ever wanna help Pierrot, much less 'calm him down'... Goddamnit.

“I you want to know how to make him more…”

“NO.”

Suddenly Pierrot dramatically falls to the floor. His muttering silenced, but damn that silence is fucking loud. Well, that and he’d just let his full 198cm slam to the floor, kneeling as if beseeching some invisible force.

From sheer surprise you drop the phone, kicking it aside as you run over to Pierrot. You’re not sure, but you’re pretty sure you hear Harlequin’s schadenfreudefull laughter ring from the fallen phone.

You try to help Pierrot back up, where he's kneeling on the ground; holding his hands to his heart, crying in complete and utter distress. Turns out that he has the weight to match his size, and he simply doesn’t budge, well besides leaning the slightest bit into your touch. Opportunistic fool.

Though, as if he’d suddenly had a revelation, his head snaps towards you with a speed that has you concerned how his cervical vertebra are still intact.
He jumps to his feet, grabbing you by the shoulders, face so close you breathe the same air. He smells sweet.

"Don't worry, Dear! I got a stapler, you can have one of mine, then we'll match, at least till mine grows back!"

Your grip on his arm falters.

"Wait, what?” It only takes a moment to connect the dots. You’ve connected the dots, and you’re not sure you like it. Especially not while still naked, because that means your "dot" caused this distress in him.

“Wait, Stapler? Wait, match? Wait multiple?! Wait!!! Yours grow back??"

Another silence, he starts shivering and shaking again. Terror. Tears. "Yours doesn't?" He falls to his knees. AGAIN. This time dragging you down with him -Oh drat, your knees- as he takes you into his arms.

A mumbled plea whispered into your ears. "Oh the cruellest jest has been played upon my most beloved. Tell me if there is anything I can do to help you carry this cruel burden."

"Why would they need to grow back?!!!"

From behind the two of you, your phone still on call: "He wouldn't know~❤"

Chapter Text

Showers. A great way to wash the hardship of the day away. Especially the hardships of your body. Man, it just had to be today, didn’t it? 

With a sigh you turn off the shower. Now it’s a race against time and biology and physics.

Though when you try to pull out your lil basket of period products you realise with an annoyed glance that it seems you’ve run out. 

Damnit… of course it’d be empty now. 

You feel almost reluctant to open the bathroom door, letting the steam and warmth escape! Sigh. Even wrapped in your tactical extra-large extra-fluffy black towel, you’d really prefer to just stay in that nice warmth for a few more moments.

Though you don’t have much time to mourn the heat, as the moment you open the door the steam dissipates, and with barely a handsbreadth distance Pierrot is already standing outside the door; Grin nearly splitting his face in two. 

Before you can even take a step outside, or even utter a single word, you feel Pierrot’s arms wrap around you. Placing his head at the crook of your neck with a satisfied little sigh. “I missed you.” 

“I was in the bathroom for like half an hour…” Wait “...who let you in anyway?”

A puff of air against your neck, you distinctly feel like it’s his silent way of laughing at you. 

If he could, he’d probably climb in your arms and have you to carry him. Though considering his not-insignificant height, and the weight you feel already leaning on your shoulders, you’re pretty sure you’d just end up on the floor, Pierrot sprawled on top of you. Give or take a few bruises. 

Though after about 5 minutes of Pierrot just holding you and rubbing his chin along your shoulders, neck and the top of your head. (You’re pretty sure you feel a bit of tongue along your ear as he moves around.) You start to loosen his grip by doing an abbreviated version of the stop, drop and roll, with less rolling and more shuffling while squatting down until you’re out of his range, before standing back up. He watches you with a slightly amused lovestruck smile.

There’s a beat of silence as you walk past him, into the next room, aiming for the designated supply closet; and opening the closet where you keep some of your refills for daily use articles; paper towels, wet wipes, and… oh… no.

Empty. How? You could have sworn you still had another pack leftover from last month… you already used that… you were supposed to buy a new pack… you forgot. Now you’ve got nothing -you’ve already wasted too much time- fuck. 

Stuck in your internal panic, you squeak as you’re spun around; face too close to Pierrot’s. His eyes wide, eyes shifting, quickly flitting over your body. 

“Pierrot what…”

“Why are you hurt?” 

He grabs you, twisting you this way and that. 

“Did you cut yourself?” 

“Huh? No, I’m fine.” At least you feel fine, sans the familiar inner cramping and the realisation of dread that you’re stuck here until you figure out where to get a new pack to staunch the red tide.

You watch Pierrot fluttering around you, fingers almost touching you before flitting away again, the worry on his face deepening with every second.

“You smell…Hurt.” Then more like speaking to himself; “why the smell of blood if…” 

As you try to calm him down with assurances of being fine, his panicked expression turns into one of realisation. Oh no, he better not be connecting the dots.

He looks at you with wide eyes, eyes quickly trailing over your body before landing on your face again. Determination. “There is no need to suffer this week on your own!” He connected the dots. Fuck.

You’d be a lot more mortified about the fact that Pierrot apparently has some innate ability to not just deduce but also sniff out the fact that you’re on your period. But somehow you’re not, mostly considering that when it comes to Pierrot, it feels more par for the course.  

Pierrot simply pushes you on the sofa, softly whispering: “Ask the Doctor for help? No, no… you’re fine… but…” He looks at you from the corner of his eye. Expression carefully blank, though you’re pretty sure you see the vague shape of hearts in his pupils. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, my Dear.” A little bit too excited, and blushing, he spins around.

You watch him run past you to the kitchen, hear the waterkettle being turned on, in the next moment he’s back with a much bigger fluffier blanket. Wrapping it around you like a burrito. 

“The tea will be ready soon! And a warm waterbottle!” Oh ok, that’s nice, but time’s running out.

“Thank you, but I forgot to get…” you’re about to say that you need to drop by the store, but Pierrot quickly interrupts, overly eager to help you. “Oh, I know. I’ll get that for you.” 

Before you can say another word he’s already turned heel, sprinting out and away.

“Pierrot, wait.” You jump up after him, only to hear Pierrot run into the bathroom, slamming the door into the wall with a bit too much force. 

Why the bathroom? Out the door and the nearest convenience store should have been his goal.Not like he seems to know how to use your front door though. You’re pretty sure you don’t have a secret stash of period products hidden in the vents. That’s where you keep your secret stash of ramen noodles and your drink of choice. 

As you bumble after him, still burritoed up, you just so happen to witness Pierrot’s eagerness to please becoming his downfall.

Pierrot, who normally has the elegance of a wild cat, apparently met his match in your bathroom: the slightly wet floor tiles. 

It’s almost like watching it happen in slow motion; trying to slow himself down by him grabbing and pulling at your shower curtain, his foot slipping, him falling forward. Trying to stop himself by grabbing the curtain with his other hand, he instead does half a turn, the curtain wrapping around his arm and shoulder, and while still motion and with all the momentum of his attack, forcing his legs go up in the air, perfectly straight for a moment, before one wraps itself around the shower-rod, and the other starts flailing helplessly around midair. 

You’re honestly not quite sure what you just witnessed, if this was a routine at his show you’d be clapping right now, though judging by Pierrot’s restricted twisting and turning this wasn’t actually his plan. 

You do indeed try to help get Pierrot out of his self-inflicted bind, but it seems that with each attempt at helping, Pierrot just gets tangled up more and more. He also seems to flinch a bit any time you get too close to his hat, so after a few minutes attempting to help you have to make the difficult decision:

You’d both be best served with some help. Only one option. 

“Wait here… I’ll try to get help.” 

Pierrot stops all his flapping and swinging for a moment, giving you a quick completely blank expression before he immediately starts flailing with renewed vigor. It seems almost a bit more intense now, wide eyed, as if he’d just realised what you’re planning on doing… or he’d inferred who you’re about to ask for help.

“Please do not…” but his voice fades as you run back out, diving for your phone and the only person who’s daring enough to sneak his name into your contacts, and who’d not flinch at a clown stuck in your shower. 

The phone rings twice, before it connects. Before the person on the other end can utter a word you already interrupt him; 

“Harlequin I need…”

“A therapist? A better one? In either case, I’d agree. Good evening to you too.”

“No… wait… Ugh. Pierrot is in a bit of a situation.”

“Oh, is he having a little tantrum?”

“Don’t call it that… he managed to get stuck in the shower curtains and is tearing my bathroom apart.”

“Your shower? Why? Did the spray bottle not stop him anymore?”

“He’s not a dog.”

“No, you’re right. A dog would be better behaved.”

“Can you just tell me what to do? I think he’s overwhelmed by the situation.”

A beat of silence from the other side of the phone, but a distressingly loud crash from the bathroom. Almost as if Pierrot was listening in, trying to make himself and his protest known. Oh good, maybe you won’t need Harlequins help after all. 

“Why’s that?” 

“He thinks I’m… hurt, and wants to help…” you bite your teeth together, it’s as much of a truth as any.

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Hurt?”

“No.”

“Oh? No wounds? Broken bones? Bruises? Scratches? Blood?”

You respond annoyed; “No. No. No. No…” The last No stays stuck in your throat, and you feel your face heat up.

When Harlequin responds to your silence you want to throw your phone out the window.

“Ah hah… no wounds, but blood? Let me guess, he thought you’re hurt, then realised you’re on the rag. Instead of letting you tell him what you need he ran off to help, and now he’s stuck upside down in your bathroom?” 

Holy Hell, he’s good at deduction.

Harlequin slyly continues in an amused tone “Hmmmm, you know, Pierrot really has a thing for trying to be helpful. But also a thing for failing spectacularly at it.” A jeering laugh rings through.

You simply sigh in response, “How do I get him out of the shower curtains? Or at least to calm down? I think he’s having a panic attack.”

“How would I know? Jester or Ticketaker normally have to deal with any performance malfunctions, and Doctor obviously with any injuries. Just leave him there, maybe he’ll figure it out eventually.” 

Just as you’re about to beseech him to please help, Harlequin, the motherfucker, simply ends the call. A loud crash quickly distracts you from cursing out the green menace, and you turn your head towards the direction of the bathroom again. 

With an annoyed groan you throw the phone on your bed, turning heel and running back into the bathroom.

You’re positively surprised, apparently your call with Harlequin was the motivation needed to get Pierrot out of his self-inflicted restraints, though that seemed to just have caused another problem. Namely: Pierrot’s wild hunt for pads, tampons, or whatever else he’d expected to find hidden in the depths of your bathroom.

Technically it was less bad than what you’d expect from someone like Pierrot, but not by much. Your dirty clotheshamper up-ended on the floor, every closet door opened, and all your items scattered on the floor. You also notice the suspicious lack of your bathmat and an even more suspiciously open window. 

And right in the middle of it all, the man, the legend: Pierrot!!! Who’s standing victorious above his fallen foe: your shower curtain torn to shreds, the curtain rod bent in half, and lying in the corner. A tale for the ages, but maybe not the neighbours.

You look at Pierrot as he turns towards you, he looks so worried. “I wanted to help you.” 

“Ah. Yeah I guessed as much.”

“But I couldn’t find the…” He waves his hand at the chaos he created in the bathroom.

“Yeah… I ran out… last month…”

… Pierrot looks at you, then back at the mess. 

“Oh.” He looks quite dejected. Ditto my dude. 

You both stand there for like 5 minutes looking over the mess, Pierrot sheepishly placing the clothes hamper back up, and putting your dirty laundry back inside. You keep an eye out, just to be sure that he doesn’t “borrow” one of your dirty shirts. You can’t really help considering that you have to hold your towel with one hand, and avoid sitting with your legs.

Blessedly the both of you’re interrupted from your messy situation by a slight knocking at your… door? That better not be a robber, it’d be really embarrassing for everyone involved. What if the robber thinks you’re messy? Or into some weird kinks because your visitor is dressed like he escaped the circus? Which, to be fair, Pierrot did escape the circus to come visit you, and you’re also kinda into the whole bells and funky hat thing. But no robber or neighbour should need to know or see that.

Pierrot’s eyes immediately narrow, though he seems more annoyed than angry. That has to be a good sign?

Before either of you can go check it out, you hear the sound of your sliding door, and a quiet jingle of bells, and light footsteps coming towards you.

“Oh my, you really did it now.” Harlequin smiles casually walking up close, before leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom door. Looking for all the world -you and Pierrot- like the cat that ate the family’s favourite goldfish. 

Probably only because it doesn’t match with Harlequins usual presentation do you notice him holding a cutesy basket with a few pink ribbons threaded through the branches. Did the guy bring a picnic? At this hour?

Before either Pierrot or you can react, Harlequin simply pushes the basket towards you.

“Here you go, Dearest one~.” From anyone else you might have taken this as a kind gesture of gift giving, from Harlequin you feel the very much mocking nature of it, though you’re just the collateral, because his smug smirk is definitely aimed at Pierrot. If you could put words into Harlequins smile it’d probably say “Look at me, I’m doing something actually productive, you messy squirrel. Are you mad?/”

You quickly look into the basket and you notice that it’s filled with at least 15 different types of period products, and dang, even a chocolate. Quality stuff right there. 

“First of all, thank you. Second of all fuck you. Thirdly, is one of your hobbies running around with a basket full of tampons and pads like some kinda period-fairy?”

Harlequin just looks at you with a raised eye…brow? “Quiet you. Of course not. I was simply close by. How could I not help my faaaaavouriteeeee little guest with something so simple as a quick little errand?”

Hmmm, that call of “favourite” sounded a bit too sarcastic. You’ll let it slide this once, since you just found another few hidden snacks. The dragon is appeased, also the mental image of Harlequin in a convenience store raiding one of each period product on offer, picking out snacks, and the casually and stonefaced standing in line as the cashier scans each and every one of the items comes to mind unbidden, and you have to admit, as horrifying as it must have been for the cashier, it does amuse you a bit.

Pierrot quickly steps between the two of you, glaring daggers at Harlequin, clearly feeling hurt in his honour as your personal period-fairy. Harlequin simply gives a toothy grin back.

The staring contest between the two fools continues on as you walk back to your couch, rummaging through the basket until you find what you need. Hahaa! Victory.

You’ll just leave the two to deal with each other, the bathroom is a lost cause anyway, and maybe they’ll manage to get stuck in there somewhere and leave you alone for the rest of the night.

Though you’re not lucky enough for them to be distracted long, as you don’t even get the time to finally get your PJs, before Pierrot and Harlequin both quickly start following you again like two overgrown ducklings. Still shooting daggers at each other, and… wait, is Pierrot holding his actual daggers? 

“No knife throwing in the apartment!”

You don’t know much about the mysterious “The Jester” but if this is what he has to deal with daily, you’re really feeling a strange sense of sympathy. Though, you’d be more willing to sacrifice yourself and play babysitter any other time of the month. Damnit. 

“How about a little thank you? Dear.” Harlequin voice rings out towards you.

You don’t have much time to react as you feel a hand on your shoulder, and in the next moment you feel a quick wet slithering run from the side of your cheek up to your temple. 

Your head snaps to the side, watching wide eyed as Harlequin’s forked tongue disappears behind his lips again. 

“You’re quite cold, maybe you should get dressed. Even if that towel suits you nicely.” The hand squeezes your shoulder before letting go. 

It’s not you who reacts to Harlequins teasing, instead Pierrot grabs the basket from your hands and with a speed you can barely follow, throws it, aiming at Harlequin’s head.

Harlequin dodges the basket, a mocking laugh chiming as he jumps out over the balcony.

The basket luckily doesn’t break, nor does it hit anything, but now everything that was inside is strewn out on the ground. Including your snacks! 

It’s quiet for a few more moments, and you watch as Pierrot quickly grabs some of the items from the ground.

You’re looking over to Pierrot holding out several of the boxes. He looks a bit unsure.

“Are these good?”

You nod, and take one of the proffered boxes.

“Want me to bring you the tea and waterbottle?” 

You nod again.

“Blanket?”

Another nod.

“Hug?”

You simply raise your arm, and Pierrot takes that as invitation enough to wrap his arms around you in a big warm soft hug.

You do not comment on the fact that you feel his tongue on your neck.