Summary: Blue learns how to use a bucket of water.
A/N: Just some crack conceived by a sleep-deprived human.
Water splashed to the ground. Blue grimaced as it narrowly missed his dry armor and halted all movement, swiftly steadying the metal bucket clutched between his hands. The wet, soapy contents inside gradually became still. Thus, causing a relieved sigh to brush past his jaws. Then he resumed his harrowingly slow-paced journey through the Doodlesphere by taking one step at a time.
Thankfully, the unique realm had ample beauty to admire during the trek.
Its warm orange-tinted sky stretched far and wide. Hints of yellow, pink, and light purple hid within its depths, adding more color alongside the pale blue and white clouds drifting by; additional hues laid on neighboring floating islands. From green to brown to every color flower under the nonexistent sun- it held the vibrancy of a painting not even the most seasoned artist could conceive.
Well, no artist aside from the resident one.
While the Underswap Sans traveled the dirt path leading to Ink's awkward yet creative dwelling, he thought back to what brought him here: a text from Dream. It was more than just any text, however. It contained an urgent request followed by a code word, cyan, which remained to date one of their most serious color codes.
Though, Blue had no clue how a bucket of soapy water would help the situation. Or why the Guardian of Positivity needed it. Each text sent to inquire about the matter got left unread and unanswered- another indication of how severe the circumstances must be.
A multicolored door belonging to an equally colorful skeleton brothers'-styled house soon entered view. Despite being the appointed location, no noticeable signs indicating any activity - criminal or otherwise - were visible. Neither a single arrow nor paint attack littered the surrounding area, and the Doodlesphere's deafening silence seemed to be missing the howl of evil cackles; Not to mention the good-natured, friendly banter of his fellow Star Sanses.
Did I arrive too late, or is Dream just overreacting, he wondered. The frown marring his skull deepened. No. No, Dream wouldn't have used that code unless something serious is going on here.
...But what caused him to?
A heavy feeling coiled in the pit of his nonexistent stomach at the mere possibilities.
So Blue cautiously approached his artistic friend's front door and readjusted the bucket in his grasp to dangle from its handle, freeing up his other hand to knock on the painted surface. When gloved knuckles met wood, only a light thump sounded before the force pushed it ajar. His body froze instantaneously. Eye sockets widening and bone lightly trembling. Then a foul scent wafted through the crack. Something far worse than the least visited parts of Waterfall's dump (and his brother's unwashed hoodie collection).
Slowly, the armor-clad skeleton nudged the door open all the way. Light from the Doodlesphere spilled into Ink's living room/kitchen, illuminating piles of trash and rot; a true gag-inducing sigh to behold.
He took a tentative step into the filthy space, hesitantly calling out, "Dream? I have the bucket of water you-"
The words got cut off when a tan and black blur bolted from one of the trash heaps in front of him, moving far too quickly and too close for comfort. It pleaded in desperation, "Save me!"
Though, its pleas went unrecognized.
"Ah!" Blue shrieked, instinctively throwing his arms forward in defense. An action that inadvertently sent the contents in the bucket sailing toward the creature. Loud splashes followed by a startled yelp confirmed a direct hit.
"Betrayal!" A familiar voice howled. The sound of staggering footsteps and a thud soon echoed through the room.
He lowered his arms, eyelights drifting down to his scarer. There sat a filth-covered, dripping wet skeleton surrounded by all manner of garbage (paper, plastic, cans, and- soiled fruitcake?). Pouting, they gazed up at him with a blue teardrop and a grey, broken heart housed in their eye sockets.
The young Star Sans instantly recognized the owner of the shapes, mildly embarrassed he hadn't before.
"Gosh, Ink! I'm so sorry! You startled me." Blue cried, throwing the bucket aside and walking over to his friend. Careful to avoid the new slippery area and hazardous waste (i.e., fruit cake).
Ink, to his credit, seemed to take the apology well; Hardly wasting any time before pushing himself to his feet (though not brushing away the residual trash) and giving a nod of understanding. Possibly already forgetting why he was being apologized to in the first place.
Suddenly the overhead light flicked on. Its warm, yellow glow showered the room in artificial light and fully revealed the previously unseen terrors in Ink's unclean home. A dark fuzzy substance crept up the walls, trash mounds were scattered everywhere, and what was quite possibly once a regular pizza scuttled under the couch like a feral possum.
But neither skeleton focused on that.
Blue even active looked away. In an attempt to not ruin Ink's carpet further and to prevent witnessing something else disturbing.
So, alongside the artist, he jerked his head toward the staircase, which led to a surprisingly cleaner, more pleasant to gaze at section of the house. Dream stood on the bottom-most step bearing an expression best described as a mix of fury, disgust, and concern. What appeared to be a disposable face mask covered his mouth and nasal cavity, and his left hand brandished a floor scrub brush while the other contained a spray bottle filled to the brim with soap.
Beside the Underswap Sans, a horrified murmur of "He found me." was drowned out by the yellow-clad guardian's commanding voice. "Blue! Quick, block the door. Don't let him escape."
And he almost did just that. However, two hands quickly latched onto both his shoulders and spun him around, forcing him to meet Ink's desperate eyelights. "Don't listen to him; Let me out!"
Blue stiffened, confused. Who was he supposed to listen to? Ink? Dream? The odd, living pizza that scurried through the papers and plastic somewhere behind him? Knowing the situation would certainly help make the decision easier.
Alas, his own conclusion on the matter would have to do.
"I-ink? Maybe you and Dream should work out your issues instead of fighting?" Uncertainty laced his voice as he glanced between his two tense friends. "Somewhere neutral. Less smelly, perhaps."
"No! I am the Stink Guardian, Guardian of the Stink. And I shall not succumb to the sanitary power of-"
A growl emanated from the left, making Ink flinch back ever-so-slightly. Loud footfall accompanied by paper/plastic rustles drew closer and closer. Finally, Dream stepped into his peripheral vision and pointed the long handle of the scrub brush threateningly at the other. "We talked about this. Either you are taking a bath, or I am giving you one!"
"You'll never defeat my stench!" The Guardian of AUs (Stink?) proclaimed. Defiance laced his features up until Dream slowly raised the spray bottled and pulled the trigger, sending him to the ground howling, "Ahh! Soap in my eyes!"
Blue watched in mute horror, unable to help when the other's yellow-clad assailant continued the soapy assault. Finishing up the treacherous task by turning to him, stating, "I would ask for the bucket of water, but it seems you already used it."
He blinked. Blue eyelights flitted toward the wet ground, and then the empty bucket making itself at home amongst the trash, ultimately landing on Dream. "W-well, yeah? But- uh, that's not important. What- what is going on here? Why are you two fighting? Why is there trash everywhere, and what's with Ink and his war against cleanliness?"
A mighty sigh echoed through the air while Dream shook his head in exasperation.
"He decided it was time for a change in his guardianhood and - for reasons I can't possibly fathom - chose to dedicate his life to protecting the smell of trash instead of the AUs." The Guardian of Positivity explained unhappily. "Needless to say, he has been ban from quite a few AUs since then; Gotten more than a few complaints too. Sci is livid that he 'accidentally' contaminated a bacteria-sensitive project, and he certainly won't be welcome back in Underfell any time soon."
In other words, he got bored, Blue's mind helpfully supplied. He opened his jaws wanting to touch further on the subject. However, a vengeful rumble sounded first.
"You may have cleansed me, but the stink will live on in my memory." Ink glared up at Dream with a red target and blue teardrop in his eye sockets, looking somewhat reminiscent of a cat who had just gotten an unwelcomed bath.
The yellow-clad skeleton responded by wordlessly leaning down and wrapping a hand around the artist's beige scarf. The owner's hiss of warning did little to deter the hand from tugging the article loose before dropping it into the soapy water pooled on the ground. As the liquid seeped in, the inky lettering lining the interior bleed, becoming smudged beyond recognition.
"No, my memory!"