Daymares

Chapter One: Letdown (Stop Getting Up for the)

A/N: I saw some of my Foster's ideas were never finished on . I'm on a Foster's kick now, and I thought I'd pick an idea without my usual favorite pairings to guide myself back into the fandom.

I hope, for those of you who notice this that you enjoy! This is a continuation of "Dreaming of You".

"He's late," Bloo remarked, yanking a paddleball around. Mac noticed idly none of his swings struck their intended target. The eight year old boy flopped back on the couch, groaned, and sat up.

"He'll be here," Mac insisted.

"Or maybe he won't because he's a big fat loser," Bloo replied.

Mac grimaced. "Do you have to say that every other week?"

"Yes," Bloo said. "I do. Do you really think he's going to want to stick around when he already abandoned you the first time?"

Mac glared daggers at his best friend. When it came to tact, Bloo had none. He folded his arms across his chest and sincerely wished his imaginary friend hadn't tagged along on his mini adventure last week. The bond between them was stronger than ever, though it hadn't surfaced much in the past few days. Madame Foster had explained Bloo only saw Mac's activities while the imaginary friend slept and his creator continued being awake. Mac, knowing Bloo's bedtime, had opted to go to bed before it. True, nothing he did in his waking life was as interesting as it had been a few days ago, but it didn't stop Mac's resentment Bloo had peered so far.

"I don't know," Mac said tersely. "He was supposed to pick us up at Foster's."

" 'Us'?" Bloo repeated suspiciously. "You invited me along? Without asking me?"

"Yes, I did," Mac said. "And since Mom doesn't know about my visiting you, it had to be here."

"Who said I wanted to waste my evening with that deadbeat?" Bloo said, tugging the paddleball along. It smacked him in the face and Mac raised his eyebrows.

"We're going to the video game arcade," Mac said. "I'll let you play your favorite game."

"Really?" Bloo said, forgetting his previous anger. "Why didn't you say so earlier?"

He jumped onto the couch beside Mac, who looked again at his watch. The video game arcade date depending on his father arriving, and he was already half an hour late. Foster's had clocks everywhere in the house, thanks to Mr. Herriman's anal retentive nature and strict adherence to rules and deadlines. Every tick of the clock reminded Mac his father was late and he ignored Bloo's new brimming enthusiasm.

"I'm going to go for the vampire teeth again," Bloo informed him and Mac nodded, not caring. He groaned, staring at the clock.

"What?" Bloo said, annoyed his creator wasn't paying attention to him.

"Mom said he might not show," Mac said quietly. "And Terrence..." Terrence had been a pain in the ass. He doubted their father would keep his promise to see the boys and was waiting for him to slip up. He especially hated the idea of Mac having alone time with his father, even if it included Bloo, and thought it distinctly unfair when Mac didn't even remember what it was like to have a father. Terrence did. Therefore, in his older brother's opinion, he was entitled to have time with him, despite his ambivalence toward him. The only reason his father had agreed to an outing with his younger son (and Bloo) was because their mother had interceded for Mac.

His poor overworked mother...Mac's and Terrence's argument had interrupted her from paperwork long enough to break it up. Terrence had leered at his sibling before punching him in the gut and disappearing into his room. Mac's stomach throbbed in recalled pain. And now his father was a half an hour late. He glanced at Bloo, the brimming blue blob that he was, and wrapped an arm around him. No wonder the imaginary friend had had abandonment issues.

"What are you going to do if he doesn't show?" Bloo said nonchalantly. "Wanna beat Coco's top score on pinball?"

"No," Mac said flatly. "I'm sitting here and waiting."

Bloo jumped off the couch. "Suit yourself. Come down when you've given up waiting and bask in my glory once I finally beat Coco's score."

"You can't even beat Eduardo's score and he jumps every time the ball hits the bumpers," Mac pointed out.

Bloo scoffed. "That pinball machine will rue the day it ever took on Blooregard Q. Kazoo!"

"Yeah, sure," his creator said. "Whatever you say." He rolled his eyes and looked back at the clocks. Thirty five minutes.

"Maaaac," Bloo whined. "It'll be epic."

"I'll see you later," he promised.

Bloo snorted. "Whatever."

Yet he lingered, watching his creator stare at the clocks. After a moment's thought, he hopped back on the couch beside him and rested a hand on his back. His brilliant azure eyes watched Mac intently.

"On second thought, let's see what's on TV," Bloo said and grabbed the remote from the table next to them. He flicked through the channels, not lingering on any of them, and his ploy didn't deceive Mac. He didn't want to leave his creator alone while he fretted his father might not come. The dream sharing had brought them closer and Bloo keenly felt Mac's anxiety. He patted Mac's hand while searching for something that didn't suck. Mac smiled weakly. Bloo hadn't found a channel he liked yet. His mad flicking through the channels always irritated Frankie.

"You don't have to do this."

"Yeesh, you'd think someone with their head bitten off by a gigantic dinosaur would stop screaming," Bloo said. Mac sighed, settling himself beside his imaginary friend. Bloo snuggled closer to him and Mac smiled weakly.

"Yeah..." Mac said. Bloo waved a stubby arm in front of his face.

"C'mon, buddy," Bloo said. "Gore!"

"Right..." Mac said. He sat and watched the rest of the awful movie with his imaginary friend. Bloo cheered at the wrong parts, insulted the actors, insinuated he knew better than the writers what was going on, and made completely insane calls. Mac wasn't sure Bloo was acting outrageous to cheer him up, or being his usual self. It didn't lift his mood. The movie had lasted another hour before it ended. His father was now an hour and a half late.

"Pinball!" Bloo announced.

"I'm going home," Mac said. Bloo stared.

"Why?" Bloo said. "The party's just getting started and the night's still young."

"I'm not in the mood," Mac said tensely. Bloo glanced at the clock and his creator's expression. His eyes widened.

"I told you he wouldn't come," Bloo said.

"Yeah, thanks," Mac said, in that same tense tone. He grabbed his backpack off the table and pulled it on his shoulders. Bloo tugged on his backpack straps and hopped onto his head. Mac glared, swiveling his head to stare at his creation, which blinked his eyes innocently and smiled at him. Mac glowered back.

"Frankie's gonna have a movie night!" Bloo said. "You gotta stay." He grinned evilly. "I'm going to swap the movies, so the house has to watch Saw II."

"Right," Mac said. "I really want to be left alone, Bloo. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Fine," the imaginary friend huffed. "Be boring." He hopped off his shoulders and scooted out of the room. Mac followed suit, shoulders hunched and head down. Bloo hadn't left the vicinity; he stared into his creator's eyes and Mac stared back.

"Stay. C'mon. It's better than going back to that dumpy apartment, anyway."

Mac heard what Bloo didn't say. Stay, because I don't like seeing you so miserable, but I'd never admit it. He nodded, agreeing with the sentiment, and scooped Bloo up in his arms. Bloo grinned, wrapping an arm around his neck, and bubbled to him about other mischievous activity he plotted, right under Mr. Herriman's nose. It rushed past Mac's ears without penetrating his consciousness and he didn't hear the phone until Bloo complained about it. He jerked his head up and Bloo scoffed, waving a stubby arm in front of his face again.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" Bloo whined. "That stupid phone interrupted me!"

Mac rushed to the nearest one, near the stairway, and picked it up. "Hello? Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends."

"Is it a telemarketer?" Bloo said, bouncing on Mac's shoulders. "Ooh, I like them."

"Congratulations," Mac muttered out of the corner of his mouth to him. "You're the only person in the world who does."

"Hello?" the man on the other end said and Mac almost dropped the phone, overeager.

"Dad?" Mac said. Bloo grimaced.

"Darn it, I was hoping it was a telemarketer," Bloo muttered.

"Sorry, I got tied up," his father said. "Can we reschedule?"

"Yeah, sure..." Mac said, fighting to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "What happened?"

His father sighed. "The Powerpuff Girls destroyed another building and caused a bunch of claims to go into effect. I swear, those girls ruin more than they save."

Bloo jumped from Mac's shoulders to the banister, back again, and settled on his head. He draped himself over him and stared at him upside down. Mac snorted, staring back at him. He really hoped he wasn't chewing gum. The last time Bloo had hung over him like that, he was, and Mac had spent the next few hours with Frankie trying to wash it out of his hair. Bloo had suggested Mac shave his head, a suggestion that hadn't met with much enthusiasm.

"You'll definitely be here next week, right?" Mac said, clinging to the hope.

"I'll try," his father confirmed. "I've gotta get back on the job."

"Yeah, of course," Mac said and after they said their goodbyes, he hung up the phone. Bloo rested his stubby arms on his shoulders...and promptly fell off. His creator caught him deftly and headed for the downstairs, where Foster's video arcade was located. Bloo was patient for a few seconds before jumping out of his arms and staring at him.

"Well?" Bloo demanded. "What did he say?"

"He said he'd reschedule," Mac said. "Let's go play pinball."

"I told you he'd wimp out."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"But I told you-"

"Stop."

"Okay, okay," Bloo said and scoffed. "Baby."'