Summary: Way to ruin a good time, Broomie.

A dopey grin laid across Palette's jaws while his yellow and green, star-shaped eyelights rested on the white-cloaked skeleton sitting in front of him- i.e., Goth, his boyfriend.

Stars, he loved calling the other that.

The artistic teen held his skull in his hands, elbows placed on the table (in a way his mother would no doubt scold him for), enjoying the calm atmosphere of the small, forest-themed café they had settled in for their study date.

Goth scribbled away on the homework sheet their Multiverse History teacher assigned them earlier in the week; His face set in a determination. The quiet scratches of his pencil against the paper hardly sounded above the light chatter from other patrons (humans and monsters, some of which belonged to different AUs).

Palette, on the other hand, had nothing since he already finished his and handed it in.

So no "unforeseen" paint splatters, dog attacks, thefts, or his bored father obtained a chance to ruin it.

He released a content sigh and relaxed in his seat.

This was perfect.

Just perfect.

For many reasons.

One, being the aforementioned completed homework.

Two, no monsters currently in the AU recognized him. Therefore there was no need to worry about his parents' creepy fans/stalkers.

At least, for now.

And three, not only did the starry-eyed skeleton not have to worry about his father abruptly popping in on them, but Goth's parents also left on a rather conveniently timed five-day trip.

Meaning the couple had some less-than-parent-approved plans for later.

Plans that might get him murdered by Geno if the deadly glitch were ever to find out.

However, that was something for his future self to worry about.

For several minutes, the pair sat in silence. All while Palette occasionally helped his boyfriend whenever he got stuck on a question.

Eventually, the artist reached for the half-filled, clear cup of the café's specialty tea at his side and took a sip.

That was when he noticed a flash of brown over Goth's shoulder before it disappeared behind a booth chair at the far end of the cafe, by the entrance.

Palette choked on the tea.

The lesser death god instantly looked up from his paper, expression quickly changing to a worried one as he asked in concern, "Pally, are you okay? What happened?"

"Nothing! Just my father's art supplies stalking me again." He nervously replied, quickly returning the drink to its spot and straightening his back.

"Oh. Alright..." Purple eyelights drifted down to the half-completed worksheet before snapping back up while worriedly demanding, "Wait, what did you say?"

"Uh- I... inhaled my drink the wrong way?"

Goth frowned but accepted the answer. "You really should be more careful."

Palette let out a fake laugh. "Heh-he... Yeah, I know. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have something very not suspicious and creepy to take care of over there."

"...O-okay?"

He silently exited his seat and made his way over to the last spot he had seen the familiar, ominous color. And, sure enough, it was precisely what he feared and expected: the bristly art tool his father lovingly called "Broomie."

"What are you doing here?! I'm trying to have a date." The teen whisper-yelled at the giant paintbrush strategically hidden behind the booth.

Bristles soundlessly flopped against the ground in reply.

He gave an exasperated groan and shouted, "That's not an answer!"

A monster shot him an odd look as they passed.

Palette paid them no mind and pinched the bridge of his nasal cavity, frowning.

Meanwhile, Broomie waved its paint-scented hairs.

"I don't care. Gothy and I are having- were having a good time. We were even supposed to go back to his place afterward since his parents are out of town on a business trip." He snapped.

The brush shifted, rolling on the ground slightly.

Palette bit back the frustrated growl, attempting to calm himself, and instead grit out a harsh "Why are you like this?" at the cause of his ruined date.

Broomie gave no answer.

But he wasn't expecting one anyway.

The sentient paintbrush seemed to live to mildly and severely inconvenience him in every way possible. Whether that inconveniencing be via creeping on him at night (more notably when he was a child), hiding his homework (which often resulted in failing to turn in assignments and receiving bad grades), getting wet/dry paint in his after school snacks, and et cetera. Which included so many things he couldn't even count them with one, let alone two hands.

And, of course, now the yellow/white-clad skeleton could add ruining dates to the list of ever-growing transgressions enacted by his mortal enemy.

Broomie rolled sideways, bumping against his foot.

"Ugh! Fine." The artist conceded.

Defeated, he picked up his father's accursed companion and completed a solemn trek - or a walk of shame, so to speak - back to the table where his boyfriend patiently awaited him.

Goth looked up upon his approach, glancing curiously at Broomie. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Gothy. It looks like Broomie got lost, so I need to go bring him back to my dad before he trashes any AUs during his search to find it." Palette sighed mournfully.

His boyfriend, being the wonderful saint he was, smiled sadly and offered, "It's okay, Pal. We can reschedule our date for tomorrow if you want. My house should still be quiet with my parents gone- Y-you know, if you'd like to come over afterward and... study."

A green flush dusted his cheeks, matching the strength of Goth's own purple blush before his wary eyelights found their way onto the brush clutched in his hands.

He clicked his teeth, hesitating.

After all, if Broomie knew where they were going to be next, it would take the chance to ruin their time together again. So he settled on, "Maybe next time?"

"Oh. Okay." The white-cloaked skeleton clumsily asked, "Do you need me to open you a portal home, or are you..."

"No, no- I'm good. Got- uh, plenty of magic for the travel." He internally facepalmed. Stars, why did I have to say it like that?

They stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds until Goth broke the silence with a hopeful, "See you around?"

"Yeah. Definitely!" Palette grinned. Then leaned down for a kiss only to cringed and gag alongside his boyfriend when itchy, paint-tasting bristles rudely intervened.

He settled for giving his boyfriend a hug, swiftly pulling away before Broomie could find a way to ruin that as well.

Being given a soft smile and a short wave of farewell, the artist went on his way; the café door's bell jingled behind him as he exited.

Once fully out of Goth's view, he leveled the giant paintbrush with the darkest, most hateful glare possible. One that would undoubtedly make his Uncle Nightmare (and, probably, his other uncles) extremely proud.

"Why do you hate me, Broomie?"

The paintbrush's bristles flopped to the side.

Palette growled. "You know, if my father didn't love you, I would turn you into firewood and dance on your ashy remains. Just like how mom taught me."