Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I love you,” Skeppy says again, for the millionth time. “I love you, I love you, I lo-”

“That’s it, I’m done,” Bad announces, hanging up the phone. He mutes his phone and puts it face-down on his desk, curling up into a ball in his office chair.

He buries his face in his knees, and sobs.

Today has been the worst day ever. It started when he woke up small at four in the morning. He had work to do, so he forced himself to be big and got out of bed. Forcing himself to be big has never worked that well, and always ends up with him being smaller later on. But he had to do it.

Then, he’d gone to get breakfast. He went to the kitchen, only to discover that he was out of instant oatmeal packets. And when he looked for cereal, he remembered that the reason he’d switched to oatmeal packets was because he was out of cereal. So he went to the fridge, and found out that all his fruit had gone rotten. The only option left was to make himself some cheese toast, which he did, and then forgot about and burned. Which left one in the middle that was slightly edible.

After that, he went to his room to finish editing a video he was 75% done with the night before. But when he pulled up the file, it had corrupted and reverted his progress. Which mean he had to start from scratch. He worked for twelve hours straight on that editing, finally getting to the end and saving it on two seperate hard drives.

He quite literally worked for twelve whole hours. No breaks for water, or food, or bathroom trips, he promised himself he could get things after he finished the video. So by the time he finished, he had to rush to the bathroom. And, unfortunately, he didn’t completely get there soon enough. He didn’t have a full-on accident (which would’ve been terrible, since he would’ve instantly gone extremely tiny), but it was enough that he had to change.

But when he went to his drawer, he was reminded that he hadn’t done laundry in multiple weeks, and was completely out of underwear. Wonderful. That left wearing one of his pullups. So he put one on, making it even harder than before to stay big.

Then he decided to edit another video, which went absolutely wonderfully. His hands were shaky from the lack of food and water, and from trying to not go baby all day, so he could barely hit the right keys. He kept screwing up trying to clip parts. He’d been working on one clip for an hour and a half, trying to get it to end at a precise moment, but he kept overshooting it or undershooting it.

That’s when Skeppy called.

Bad almost forgot Skeppy was streaming for a minute, but remembered just in time. He’d gone along with the bit, pretending to get angry with Skeppy, and then hung up.

That call came at the perfect time. Or, it would’ve, if Skeppy hadn’t been streaming. Instead of getting to let Skeppy help him feel better, Bad had to pretend he wasn’t about to break down.

Which led to where Bad is now. Curled up in his desk chair, sobbing his heart out into his knees because he really wants comfort, but the only person who can comfort him decently is fooling around in front of thousands of people.

Then, Bad has an idea.

bbh: geppy
geppy: hi do you need something
bbh: just wanted to message for a bit
geppy: oh no whats wrong
bbh: mmm bad day
geppy: ohhh
geppy: ohhh noooo
geppy: im ending stream as soon as i can
bbh: nonono dont do that for me
geppy: i want to do it bad
geppy: ill be there in a few minutes okay
bbh: i just wanted you to text and stay streaming
geppy: but then i wouldnt be able to fully focus on you
bbh: geppyyyyy
geppy: badddddd
bbh: ughhh
bbh: if you really want to
geppy: i really do
bbh: alright
bbh: see you soon then
geppy: see you soon

Bad sighs softly, almost choking at the first deep breath he’s managed to take since he started crying ten minutes before. He didn’t want Skeppy to end stream for him, he just wanted someone to talk to. Skeppy can message while he’s on stream, can’t he? But apparently he wants to be able to fully focus on Bad, and, obviously, he can’t do that and focus on the stream at the same time, even if his ADHD does make it easier to concentrate on multiple things at once.

True to his word, about five minutes later, Skeppy knocks on the door to Bad’s room.

“Bad?” he calls softly. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Bad whispers, and Skeppy, with his impeccable hearing, opens the door.

“Oh, angel,” Skeppy says softly, eyes flickering down to Bad’s pullup and apparently automatically deciding that Bad is small.

“I’m not small, Geppy,” Bad says, embarrassed, and still fighting off his regression. Skeppy isn’t making it easy in the slightest.

“Ah, sorry. But, then, why are you wearing a pullup?”

Bad sighs and relays the tragic tale of the day. Skeppy comes over and hops up on Bad’s desk while Bad is talking. When he’s finally finished talking, Bad finds that he’s crying again.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, hiding his face in his hands.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Skeppy says gently, putting one hand under Bad’s chin and tilting his head up, using the other hand to wipe the tears from under Bad’s glasses. “That’s a pretty terrible day, you don’t have to apologize for crying about it. Everybody needs to cry once in a while, it’ll make you feel better.”

Bad nods shakily, biting his lip to keep from sobbing out loud. He hates crying in front of other people.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Skeppy repeats, getting off of the desk to stand in front of Bad and pull him up so they’re standing chest-to-chest. “You can cry as much as you need to, and as loud, as well. I really don’t care, alright?”

Bad breaks. He wraps his arms around Skeppy and presses his face into the place where Skeppy’s neck meets his shoulder and sobs. Skeppy sucks in a breath, hugging Bad back tightly. Bad hangs on to Skeppy like a lifeline, and he wouldn’t let go if he had been promised a million dollars.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Skeppy murmurs, over and over and over again. “You can cry as much as you need to, angel. As much as you need to. You’ll be okay, it’ll all be okay.”

Bad cries and cries and cries. He forgets where he is, doesn’t know what’s going on, only knows that Skeppy is there and that Skeppy is holding him and that if Skeppy leaves, Bad is going to scream.

When he’s calmed down enough to notice his surroundings again, Bad discovers that Skeppy’s sat down on the floor, and that all of Bad’s limbs are wrapped around Skeppy in a death squeeze, and that his head is still pressed into Skeppy’s neck - except his glasses aren’t there anymore. Skeppy, for his part, has one hand on the back of Bad’s head, pressing it against his neck, and the other hand rubbing circles on Bad’s back. Bad’s still sniffling a bit, but other than that, he’s mostly calm now.

Skeppy’s cooing to him gently, though. Not talking, not soothing, cooing. Cooing all of the tiny words that Baby Bad loves so much, “baba” and “sippy” and “apple juice” and “bubble bath” and “paci” and “onesie” and calling Bad “angel”. And, of course, Bad is slipping. Fast and hard.

After a few more minutes of sitting and rocking back and forth, Skeppy stops cooing to ask, “You good?”

Bad shakes his head, not unlatching himself from Skeppy. Even if he’s not crying anymore, he’s still really upset. And, um. He doesn’t want Skeppy to see he’s small yet, because Skeppy, with those unfair caregiver instincts, will instantly know that he’s in the company of Baby Bad when he sees Bad’s face.

“It’s okay. Take as long as you need to. I can sit here as long as you want.”

“Why?” Bad manages, voice shaky from tears, so Skeppy probably won’t notice he’s small.

Skeppy’s arms tighten around Bad. “Because I love you, angel.”

Bad shakes his head again.

“What do you mean, no, angel? I do. I really do love you.”

Bad whines softly. “Bit.”

“Oh, angel. Sweetheart, the bit was that I was repeatedly saying it. I really, really, really do love you. Really.”

Bad hesitates. “Really?”

“Really, really, really. I love you so much, angel.”

Bad realizes suddenly that tears are streaking down his face again. He whines, hugging Skeppy tighter. He just wants all the icky feelings to stop! He wants Skeppy to make all the icky go away, Skeppy can do that, because he’s Bad’s Dada, and everybody knows that Dadas can do anything.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Skeppy cooes, kissing Bad’s head.

“Love’u,” Bad mumbles, followed by a quiet sob against his will.

“Yeah, angel, I love you too. Is something wrong?”

Bad nods, another involuntary sob slipping out of his mouth. “Love’u,” he repeats desperately.

“Bad, are you okay? Talk to me, angel.”

Bad shakes his head, repeating, “Love’u, love’u, love’u!”

“I love you too, angel, but you have to tell me what’s going on.”

Bad sobs again. He is telling Skeppy! He just wants to be told that his Dada loves him!

“Angel, please, what is it?”

Bad keens softly, hitting the heel of his hand against Skeppy’s back in anger. But that gets the opposite result from what he wants, because Skeppy pulls him into an upright sitting position with a half-stern look on his face.

“We don’t hit, angel,” Skeppy says firmly. Bad keens again, hitting the heels of his hands against one another. “Hey, hey, baby, stop. Hands aren’t for hitting, yourself or others.”

Bad clenches his fists on his knees, staring pitifully at Skeppy. Surely he knows what Bad wants, now that he’s looking at his face? But, no, Skeppy still looks just as confused as before.

“Angel, please tell me what’s going on,” Skeppy murmurs, cupping Bad’s face in his hands and wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “Even if you don’t know the words for it, could you try to explain what’s going on inside that baby brain of yours?”

Bad barely registers the fact that Skeppy realizes he’s baby, too busy focusing on the fact that he is using his words, Skeppy just doesn’t understand him! He whines again, fresh tears streaking down his face.

Bad finally has an idea. He points to Skeppy, then to himself. “Love’u.”

Skeppy’s eyes widen in understanding. Finally. “Oh, angel, you like it when I tell you that I love you?”

Bad nods, clapping his hands, even though he’s still crying. Everything will be okay soon, because now his Dada knows what to do so he can make it okay! And Skeppy does make it okay.

“Okay, angel, I get it. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Bad cooes, feeling his face flush in embarrassment and happiness.

“I love you so, so much, angel,” Skeppy says again, wiping the remaining tears from Bad’s face. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I have always loved you, and I will always love you.”

Bad cooes again, curling into Skeppy.

“Aw, is my love tired?” Bad nods. “Okay. Come on, we’ll take a nap.”

Somehow, Skeppy manages to stand up with Bad stil clinging to him without upsetting the baby. Before Bad fully realizes what’s going on, he’s curled up in his bed against Skeppy. Who’s staying quiet, just holding Bad against himself.

Bad whines softly. “Love’u.”

Skeppy laughs. “Sorry, angel. I love you. I love you so, so much. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Bad cooes, cuddling up against Skeppy.

Skeppy loves Bad.

And Bad loves Skeppy.