Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello! Here’s a little introduction :D

I go by Tom online, sometimes Korwin and Jasper! So feel free to switch between the three.

My pronouns are She/They/He (all), and Philza is my favourite creator!

I have ADHD and sensory problems.

I enjoy writing and half the time projecting onto my favourite YouTubers to cope (oops), I’ve been in the DSMP fandom roughly since the beginning of lockdown!

Now, onto an explanation!:)

This is a oneshot book that focuses on age regression! Age regression is a coping mechanism in which someone regresses to the mental and emotional state of a child to deal with overwhelming emotions. There is nothing sexual about age regression, and I will not be writing anything that depicts such.  

With that being said, here are my rules for requests!

1) Please keep requests on this page! Do not leave requests on other chapters, or they may get lost in the many comments and I will not be able to find them.

2) Please do not leave a request without a prompt!

3) Do not make your requests incredibly detailed! If there are so many details, I have no freedom in the writing :’)

4) Please do not duplicate requests! Especially for a second part. Please look through the comments - if someone else has already commented asking for the thing you are about to request, do not request it, but boost it! Repetitive requests will be ignored/deleted.

5) If I like the prompt, but not the characters being used, there’s a chance I’ll switch it to creators I’m more comfortable writing about! Don’t worry, I’ll still give you credit.

6) I won’t always use requests, as I enjoy my own sometimes.

Disclaimer: Despite being a regressor myself, I’m not overly educated and I am still learning! If I misrepresent something or don't leave a warning that needs to be on a chapter, please let me know! I want this to be a safe place, and you guys are the ones that can help me create that environment.

Tags will be updated as we go along.

This is up on my Wattpad too!; @/clemomileee

That's all!

-Tom💕

Chapter Text

It was great at first, truly. Not only was he there with Wilbur, but Freddie had drove down from Nottingham, just to see him! Wilbur had also said he could invite another, so he chose Ranboo. Wilbur asked Niki if she wanted to join, and she said of course. And nothing was better than getting to see so few, yet the ones he was so close with, of his friends at once.

But after a few hours or so, Tommy understood why Wilbur had berated him for not regressing enough; because the fuzzy feeling since he arrived hadn't left him alone. It had probably been close to two weeks since Tommy last regressed, being so caught up with filming. And that night a particularly nasty storm had hit. 

Tommy couldn't hold off that comforting, numbing feeling as the lights flickered and went out. Now, his regression wasn't a secret amongst his closest friends, but everyone knew that Wilbur had the final say with anything regarding a regressed Thomas Simons.

So when Tommy began wailing in fear as the lights cut out, and Wilbur wasn't in the house in that very moment, it didn't hugely surprise them. They just weren't ready for it. It was certainly a startling situation.

Ranboo, as a frequent 'babysitter' of sorts, was quick to wrap the little one up in his arms and shush him softly. Freddie was surprisingly fast to rush off to the guest room Tommy's residing in for the night, and gather his baby bag - even though the little was adamant he didn't need it, Freddie was glad he did.

Ranboo carefully swaddled the boy up in a fuzzy blanket Niki had passed over, all while her phone was ringing next to her ear, calling Wilbur.

When Wilbur picked up, it was hard to hear with the persistent wind whipping past, and it was likely he was on the way back from the shops. 

"Hey..N-iki-" Wilbur, almost yelled out and went to continue, but quickly fell silent when he heard his baby's terrified cries in the background.

"Hey Will. The power cut out and I think it caused Tommy to drop." She explained to the other.

A bit of ruffling could be heard as Wilbur presumably readjusted the bags. "Can you put..-ommy on the ph-..one f-r me?"  Niki gave a hum in confirmation and turned to Tommy, holding the phone out. "Hey buddy, it's Wilbur. He wants to talk to you, okay?" She spoke softly.

Tommy peeked out from Ranboo's neck. Two shaky hands quickly grabbed the phone from Niki and the poor baby sobbed to his caregiver. 

"Dada!" He cried out, whining when Freddie returned and used a tissue to wipe up the snot running down his face. 

Wilbur cooed softly, holding his phone close as if it'd help the little hear him better. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't upset about Tommy's decision to not regress for so long - he missed looking after his baby!

"Hi there, sweetheart," Wilbur cooed out softly. "Can you-..tell Dada what all the-..tears are for?" He questioned softly.

Tommy choked back sobs, rubbing his eyes with curled fists. "Was wat'in fo' you to go home, bu' ou'side made'd a big ban', an' the ligh's turn'ded off, 'nd the dark scarin' me, Dada!" He cried out as clear as he could.  

The three, including Wilbur, pouted, feeling sympathy for the little one. Wilbur hummed quietly. "Oh, I-..know baby. The outside is being-..icky, isn't it?" He responded softly.

"Yeah! Wan' b'own bear 'nd 'inky!" Tommy responded, frustration seeping through his stumbling words. "Okay, alright darling, does-..-nyone there have your-..things?" He asked, and Freddie spoke up.  

"Yeah, I got it Will. What do I need to get out for him?" He asked softly.  

"Get him a dummy and-..-the stuffed brown..-bear that's in ther-.." Wilbur said softly as he could with the crackling. Freddie pulled out a pastel blue pacifier with a small, stubby raccoon clipped on. A tattered, yet well-loved stuffed bear was also grabbed.

"Dummy?" Ranboo sounded confused. "Oh! It would be pacifier for you." Niki giggled. "Tommy-..-alls it his-..-binky." His voice continued to break up ever so slightly, but he was still audible. "Oh, yeah. Totally knew that."

Tommy let out another strangled cry, and reached for his teddy. Freddie placed it in his arms and Tommy's mouth instantly latched around the pacifier - still whining. Wilbur softly hummed.

"I'm almost-..h-.ome. He seems pretty little—..-the moment, so I'll make him-..warm milk and it should..—help." Wilbur explained. And almost home he was. Five minutes later of stuttered cries, choked sobs and quiet mumbling for his Dada, the rustling sound of keys at the door made Tommy perk up.

The door swung open, the wind blowing through and making the two older boys shiver. But Tommy didn't care.

"Dada! 'elp! 'm 'duck!" He wasn't actually stuck, Ranboo had just kept a firm grip on him despite his wiggling and reaching for Wilbur.

He wasn't letting go until Wilbur had shut and locked the door, dropped the bags, shrugged off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. He rushed through the living room, and when Ranboo let go of the little one, he dived into his Dada's lap, wrapping him in a bear hug and sobbed.

"Hey, hey..shh. It's okay, you're alright darling." "Dada gon' so long!"

"Awh you sweet thing. I know, and I'm so sorry," He rocked the boy in his lap, running a hand through his hair. "But I'm back now, hm? And I'm not leaving you anytime soon sweetheart." Tommy nodded quickly into his collarbone, tears smudging against the skin. His head was hot compared to Wilbur's freezing neck.

"You're doing so well darling, deep breaths, I'm here." Tommy's breathing was stuttered, and he tightened his hold on Wilbur.

Tommy calmed down, slight sniffles here and there but he wasn't incoherently sobbing anymore. "Wan' 'ilk Dada."

"Of course sweetheart. Warm?" Wilbur's hand rubbed up and down his baby's back. "P'ease.." 

Wilbur pulled away, making Tommy whine. "I'll be back baby." He said softly, swiping a soft thumb across Tommy's cheek, before shuffling him off of his lap and over to Freddie, Niki and Ranboo. Tommy only let out a few frustrated whines, but let Wilbur walk to the kitchen. 

Niki carefully got the baby situated again with, the blanket, his 'binky' and stuffed teddy - which was a lucky replacement whilst Wilbur disappeared a second time. They engaged in small talk with the baby, asking what movies he liked to watch and such. They were met with happy babbles and excited squealing about his favourite movies.

When Wilbur returned with a bottle, he took over, cradling the baby in his arms to feed him the bottle while Freddie held the pacifier. Tommy had adorably demanded Niki played with his hair, which she had absolutely no issues doing. By 'demanded', it means that Tommy blindly searched for her hand, once doing so, dragging it up and into his hair.

After a warm bottle, the soft hand and his Dada's soothing voice, the baby was completely out like a light.

Chapter Text

It's finally happening! Tommy was finally meeting Dream. It took a while; hours of planning, content ideas, and it was finally being put into action.

Dream had a soft smile on his face, listening to the little blabber about how excited he was whilst packing his bags during call - more of Tommy just throwing clothes he didn't need into a suitcase and calling it a day. But that's a problem for bigger Tommy. Right now, the little was content, joy filling his body when Dream laughed at his small attempts of a joke.

"Oh! 'nd 'den Wilby was pokin' my side, 'nd I almos' tripped o'ber! Bu' I was super duper stron', 'nd stay'ded standin'!" The little used his hands to help explain what he was talking about, throwing them around with exaggeration.

Dream gasped, "Really? Wilby tried to push you over? Seems like I'm going to have to have a talk with him for trying to hurt my baby." He frowned, putting his hands on his hips as if a mother was scolding her child.

"Noo Dada! Wilby dids do dat, bu' don' be mad at him, be'tause he says sorry!" Tommy whined, rapidly shaking his hands at the screen.

Dream sighed, "Okay, alright. I won't tell Wilby off. Only because you said so." 

Tommy giggled, "Good Dada."

And it was then that Dream decided that this boy would be the death of him. He felt his heart break a little more with each interaction with the regressed teenager, overflowing with warmth and 'awh', - positively so.

—————

Tommy fiddled with the strings of his hoodie, trying to navigate his way through the crowd of people in the airport. It wasn't helping his nerves, and the loud chattering was soon replaced with static. He practically went on autopilot, swerving and twisting through the people as if he had memorised the place - despite never being there before.

And it was only when he got to the main entrance that he was able to come back to reality. Taking a deep breath, Tommy took a step out into the Florida air, a cool breeze compared to the hot flushes he was having.

His eyes scanned the parking lot, he had a mental picture of Dream;

6'3, brown hair (definitely not dirty blonde), a little bit of a stubble and terrible fashion sense. I mean, come on! Who on Gods Green Earth decided that a blue tunic and brown jeans go well together? Only a wrongun. The only good thing about the outfit was his cool ass looking shoes- even then he had to undergo a shit ton of judgement from the fans to even think about changing them. I should of brought a spare of my iconic red and white shirt. Now that's good fashion.

During his little mind spurt, he hadn't noticed the perfect description of the man creeping up behind him.

Hands gripped his shoulders, a shook them violently. "Boo!" 

And will Tommy ever admit that he let out a high pitch screech? No, never. But Dream will never let him forget it.

"Dream?! Oh my god you absolute dick'ead!" Dream doubled over in a coughing fit, trying to catch his breath.

"Oh my god you should have seen your face-" Dream wiped the built up tears from his face, and Tommy couldn't help but feel embarrassed. To be honest, he wasn't in the mood for jokes. He had just gotten off of a nine hour flight after waking up at stupid-o'clock in the morning, and not sleeping at all on the plane because of the excitement, and the annoyance of being split between the two headspaces the whole time was getting to him. You can't blame him.

So when he saw his caregiver doubled over, laughing at him, he couldn't stop the tears building up in his eyes and a heat of shame forming on his face. Dream was still laughing.

A sob bubbled in his chest. The fuzziness was building up, swarming his mind as he felt himself becoming more and more detached from his bigger self. Tommy looked over at the man with glossy eyes, his thoughts becoming jumbled and hazy with the need for the older to hold him close, the need to be taken care of.

Tommy was frustrated. Dream hadn't bothered looking up, and was still chuckling. With a soft whine, Dream finally payed attention to him. Tommy had unspilt tears hovering at the corners of his eyes, bottom lip trembling and eyebrows furrowed. If he looked close enough, he'd be able to see the very tips of the little's fingers shaking with nerves.

A choked sob, "Tha' mean, Dada." Balled fists rubbed vigorously as tears spilt from Tommy's eyes.

Dream's heart dropped. Dread filled his stomach. "Oh baby, I'm so sorry." He spoke softly, stepping towards his little.

Tommy desperately reached out for him, wanting nothing more than to be held and comforted in his caregivers arms. Dream was gentle but efficient, carefully lifting the baby into his arms, adjusting his grip. Dream gently rocked side to side, rubbing his little's back and placing small kisses on his head.

"You okay, bud?" Dream asked quietly, earning a small whimper in response as the younger shook his head. Dream frowned softly and held Tommy close, "I know, I'm so, so sorry sweetheart. I'm sorry I scared you like that. Can you forgive me?" Dream murmured.

Tommy gave a small nod, looking up to Dream with pupils wide, and slightly bloodshot. Dream had guilt chip away at him, and overall felt awful for having made his little so terrified. But, his self wallowing could come later, as he needed to focus on making sure his baby felt comfortable.

"Is there anything I can do to help, love bug?" Tommy squinted, and lifted a finger and tapped his chin.  "Oh! Wan' 'dawbry' 'ilk!"

"You want strawberry milk?" Tommy bounced excitedly on Dream's hip. "Mhm mhm! P'ease, p'ease, p'ease Dada?!" He was practically vibrating with excitement. "Well of course you can my love!"

—————

Tommy gawped at the house as they pulled into the driveway, "'m stayin' here?!" - pointing. Dream chuckled. "You are, you are. With Dada, Sappy and Georgie!"

"Sappy? 'nd Gogy?!"

"Definitely. They're currently out shopping, but I'm sure they won't be too long."

Tommy squealed for a second time, flapping his hands and shifting in his seat. This time Dream looked at the little with fondness in his eyes. Tommy lifted the sleeve of his hoodie up and into his mouth, "Hey, none of that sweetheart. Let's get in the house and make you that strawberry milk you wanted, hm?"

"P'ease!"

—————

Dream placed Tommy on the counter, gazing around with not a single thought and swinging his legs back and forth mindlessly. Opening the cupboard, Dream pulled out a blue baby bottle with constellations and a red sippy-cup with white polka-dots all over. "How old you feeling bud?" 

Tommy did the same as earlier, pursing his lips, and lifting a finger to tap his chin. Raising his brows, he held up 3 fingers, but paused and switched to 2. "So we got a little baby today?" Dream put back the sippy-cup, lightly tickling Tommy's waist, making the little giggle.

Dream grabbed the strawberry milk carton and filling the bottle up. He placed the lid on and lifted Tommy back up, carrying him to the living room.

He sat down, Tommy's upper-half sideways in his arms and his legs spread across the couch. A blanket was laying over Dream's shoulder and draped over the younger, snuggling as close to his Dada as possible.

"Dada?"

"Yeah?"

"I wan'."

"You want what baby?"

Tommy just huffed, sitting back up and looking around the room. "You have to tell me what you want, hun." Dream spoke softly. Tommy hummed excitedly, and pointed to a red backpack that he had been wearing. Dream stood, going over to the bag and opening it. "What do you want from in here love bug?"

Dream shuffled through the things, seeming to be Tommy's little gear. He saw a light blue pacifier, with a small raccoon clipped onto it. A brown bear was with it. "Wan' 'inky 'nd teddy p'ease!" He asked, rocking back and forth with a blanket wrapped around him.

Dream grabbed the bear and pacifier, walking back over and groaning as he sat down, and Tommy wasted no time grabbing the teddy, crawling back into his caregivers lap and snuggling close to him.

The little reached for the bottle, but made no more move to grab it and instead latched around the tip, drinking it from Dream's hand.

The man softly patted Tommy's back with the arm he was laying on, finding amusement in the way his little looked up at him with such a mindlessness gaze. And once the bottle was finished, he placed it aside and plopped the pacifier into Tommy's mouth.

Soon after, his breathing evened out, the sucking slowly stopped and his eyes drifted closed. Dream leaned over, placing a kiss on the little's forehead.

This is what Dream had longed for. Cradling his baby in his arms, giving him the love he's needed for so long. He'll never wish for something different.

Chapter Text

Tommy's hands were beginning to sweat from how hard he was gripping the tripod of his camera. He had just left a 2 hour long conference; most of which, all of his ideas were being shut down and very few listened to him.

Not to mention, someone had commented on his body - saying how he quote-on-quote had, ‘feminine features'. And Tommy laughed it off, but who's to say it wasn't rattling around in his mind for the rest of the day?

So he was rightfully upset.

Tommy had called Ranboo as soon as he left, ranting and almost breaking down after retelling what occurred. Ranboo calmed him down, saying he would be there for when he got back. 

And after that, Tommy was left alone again, dwelling in his thoughts.

I'm a boy, right? I don't have 'feminine features'. That's practically calling me a girl! I'm a boy. Who in their right minds would call me a girl? I'm clearly a boy.

...

Right? I'm a boy, aren't I? I am. I'm a boy. I know I am. Wilbur uses 'he'. So does Phil, and Dream, and Ranboo. Sure, maybe my parents mess up and use 'she' sometimes, but that's a silly mishap. I'm a boy. I use he/him. Not she/her, or they/them. I'm a boy, right? For fucks sakes, I'm a boy god-damnit!

Whilst being stuck in his thoughts, Tommy hadn't realised he had made it home and knocked on his apartment door until a voice pulled him out.

"Tommy?" He looked up. But for some reason, his vision was blurry. "Tommy.. Why're you crying sweetheart?" I am? Hands came up to his cheeks, soft thumbs wiped away the liquid-salt. 

It was only then that Tommy could feel the built-up pressure in his chest, a common fuzziness clouding his grown mind. And he couldn't hold it anymore. Reality hit him like a ton of bricks, and everything seemed way too big all of a sudden. His lower lip quivered, and he looked into Ranboo's eyes.

Ranboo. Safe. Boo. Helps me. Takes care of me. Dada..

A loud sob, and he collapsed into his caregiver, who reacted quickly and swooped the little up and into his arms. He shuffled, kicking the door shut and rocked back and forth. "Shh.. You're okay, everything's going to be okay." Softly, he rubbed the youngest's back to help calm him down.

Tommy kept his arms wrapped tightly around Ranboo's neck, gripping the man's shirt and breathing in his deodorant to ground himself. His sobs were quietening, all that was left was small sniffles and a slight tremor. "There we go sweetheart.. You're doing so well. Keep breathing for me." The little huffed, "'m breathin', Boo!"

Ranboo smiled. "You are, just keep it at a steady pace love." He felt the little nod against his neck, and that's when he turned around and walked them both to the living room. He sat down, shuffling the little to lean against his chest and ran a hand through the blonde's hair.

Tommy began huffing, moving back and forward. "What's wrong Toms?" He whined. "My 'test!" Ranboo furrowed his eyebrows. "What test sweetheart?" Tommy sat up, and pointed to his torso. "Noo, Boo! 'test! Not test!"

"Oh! Your chest? What about it?" Ranboo rubbed Tommy's back. The little pouted. "My 'test hurtin'.." Ranboo sat up. "Why's it hurting, sweetheart?" Tommy didn't say anything, he just crossed his legs and began picking at his fingers. "Hey, none of that, bud." Ranboo pulled his hands apart, and placed his there instead. "Fiddle with my hand for the time being." And Tommy listened, bending Ranboo's fingers, poking lightly, etcetera.

"Now, why's your chest hurting lovely?" Tommy looked quilty. At what? Ranboo didn't know. He mumbled something inconsistent. "I need you to speak up so I can hear you Toms.." Tommy took a deep breath, but it stuttered and he faltered, clearly in pain. "I don't like seeing you in pain, sweetheart. Tell me, please." But all Tommy did was take another deep breath. Maybe he's gone non-verbal? The outline of his binder was showing- and that's when it clicked.

Ranboo sighed, "Tommy, sweetheart, how long have you been wearing your binder for?" Tommy seemed relieved, but swallowed and looked away. But Ranboo needed to know. He brung a hand up and lightly gripped the littles chin and made Tommy face him. "Please tell me sunshine." Tommy pulled back and gazed down.

Is Boo gonn' be mad if I say?

..

His voice was quiet. "..'didn' take it off last nigh'.." 

Ranboo frowned. "Bud..that was at least a day and a half ago." He spoke softly. Is Boo mad..? Tommy's shoulders caved. An aching, fuzzy feeling wormed it's way throughout his body, forcing him deeper into his headspace. "Dada's mad, righ'? P'ease don' be mad Dada, p'ease?" Tears burned his eyes, and Ranboo's heart jumped out of his chest.

"No, baby. I could never be mad at you." He pulled the little close to his chest. "'didn' mean to, 'dus' wan'ed to be a boy!" Ranboo felt pity. "You are a boy, Toms. Nothing's ever going to change that. Only you can. You want to be a boy? You are. You want to be non-binary like me? Then you can. Only you can decide who you are. Not your parents, not any of your friends, not your fans, not even me. Only you can. You are a boy, okay?" Tommy sniffled, gripping his Dada hard.

"Bu' I don' look li'e a boy 'wiv' no bin'er, so 'm not a boy!" He sobbed. "Baby, listen. Your body doesn't equal what you are." Ranboo pulled away from Tommy, despite the little's complaints and wiped his eyes. "With or without the binder, you are a boy. And might I say, one of the darn cutest boys I've ever seen, okay?" He swiped Tommy's nose, smiling softly. Tommy giggled.

"'m a boy?"

"You're a boy, my love."

The little dived into the man's arms, squeezing tightly. "T'ank you, Dada." "Of course my baby. Now, how about we go take that binder off and get you into some comfy clothes?" "P'ease!"

Ranboo stood up, and held a hand out for Tommy. He took it, but once he rose to his feet, his legs shook and he almost fell to his knees. Ranboo caught him, and swooped him up and into his arms. "That was close, huh?" Tommy squealed, swinging his legs and holding on tight. "Oop'es!" Ranboo laughed. "Yeah, oopsies." Tommy giggled. "You're very giggly today, aren't you little one?" 

He clapped his palms together and nodded, a huge smile not leaving his face. Ranboo had his suspicions, but he still asked to make sure. "And I'm guessing we have a very little baby at the moment?" Tommy bounced up and down on his caregivers hip, "'mmm.." He held up one, slightly shaking finger.

Ranboo gasped dramatically. "We have a baby baby on our hands!" Tommy brought his hands up to Ranboo's cheeks, bringing their faces close enough their noses were touching. He giggled. "Dada!" "Yeah, I am Dada." "'n' me?" Ranboo closed his eyes.

"And you? You, my little love bug, are the sweetest, most loveable, caring, most handsomest baby boy in the whole world. You are my whole world, sweetheart."

Tommy happily squealed, bouncing in anticipation in Ranboo's arms.

"'lub 'ou, dada." 

"I love you too, baby."

Chapter Text

“Tsk, who does he think he is?”

Schlatt was currently gripping a bottle in his hand, half filled with a brown liquid that looked and smelt like nail polish remover, yet gave you a soft buzz as you drank it. He was stumbling against the walls, a disgruntled look on his face.

His husband, Quackity, had just walked in, making a remark on how he needed to, “-stop drinking so much, Schlatt. It’s not long before you have a heart attack or some shit, keel over and die!”

Schlatt scoffed, rolling his eyes and lifting the bottle to his lips. “What better way is there to go besides your favourite beverage?” And cackled at the disappointed look on Quackity’s face. He threw back a shot, and slammed down the bottle.

He stood up, holding onto the table as he staggered across the room. Once he reached his husband, he focused on his face and noticed the worried look. “Schlatt, you reek of alcohol-“, “Listen, Pumpkin, I know you’re worried, but I can handle it.” Schlatt smiled drunkenly, leaning in so he was just grazing Quackity’s lips.

Quackity looked into his eyes with a soft gaze, going to lean in before Schlatt pulled away abruptly. “And besides, who’re you to decide what I do or don’t?” His voice was gravely.

Quackity shook his head, walking backwards with a grim smile on his face. “Fuck you, Schlatt.” He turned away and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

Schlatt smirked, rolling his eyes before turning around. The smirk on his face faded as he drunkenly strolled back to his seat. Just getting there, he opted to lean on the table instead. His thoughts began to filter through his crowded mind.

Was I too harsh?

.. No, he doesn’t get a say on what I can and can’t do.

He blindly searched for the bottle behind him, and threw back another shot. The liquid burned as it sizzled down his throat, resting in his unsettled stomach. He slammed the bottle down and his uncoordinated hand wiped his mouth.

Should I go and apologise?

…

He won’t leave me if I don’t, right?

Hah, nah. He’d never. I need him, and he needs me. What good would he be without me?

…

What if one day he decides that you’re not good enough, Schlatt? Then what?

He wouldn’t.

How do you know? Your offensive language and attitude towards him could drive him away y’know? He’s going to leave you.

No, no he’s not. Shut the fuck up.

Whilst in a war against his thoughts, Schlatt hadn't realised he had crumbled to the floor and knocked off his bottle of alcohol, the loud crash had alerted the man in the other room.

"Schlatt? What’re you doing on the floor?" He looked up. But for some reason, his vision was blurry. "Schlatt.. Why're you crying dude?" I am?

Schlatt scoffed, using a shaky arm to push himself up into an upright sitting position instead of the slumped posture before.

“‘m not crying, you are.” A figure snickered and knelt down in from of him, hands came up to his cheeks and thumbs wiped away the liquid-salt.

“Yeah okay, what’re you doing on the floor big guy?”

Quackity waited for an answer, not getting one. He squinted and took note of Schlatt’s behaviour. His eyes were glazed over, as if somewhere that wasn’t here, he had unspilt tears hovering at the corners of his eyes, bottom lip trembling and eyebrows furrowed. If Quackity looked close enough, he'd be able to see the very tips of Schlatt’s fingers shaking with nerves.

Now he was concerned. Quackity knelt down, and used a soft hand to hold and lift Schlatt’s chin so the ram was looking at him.

“Schlatt? You with me honey?”

Slowly, he looked up, and looked into Quackity’s eyes. Only then did Schlatt take notice of the built-up pressure in his chest, a common fuzziness clouding his grown mind. A sob bubbled in his chest. The fuzziness was building up, swarming his mind and overpowering the pounding headache he felt beforehand.

And he could barely hold it anymore. Reality hit him like a ton of bricks, and everything seemed way too big all of a sudden. His lower lip quivered, and he looked into Quackity’s eyes.

He felt himself becoming more and more detached from his bigger self. Schlatt blinked at the man with tear-filled eyes, his thoughts becoming jumbled and hazy with the need for the younger to hold him close, the need to be taken care of, to let all of the weight on his shoulders crumble down and discarded to the side to be dealt with later.

A sob tumbled through his lips, “Papa..” He used the strength he had to lift his arms, doing grabby hands at Quackity. Quackity, who was kneeling in front of his husband, who all of a sudden was acting as though he was a baby, confused.

What the fuck?

An upset whine pulled him from his thoughts, and looked down at Schlatt again. He was still making grabby hands, tears streaming from his eyes and sobs sounding throughout the office. “Schlatt, bud, are you alright?” 

Schlatt’s words were incoherent, spit forming around his mouth. Quackity’s eyebrows furrowed, “Okay, alright. Give me a sec, okay?” He spun around quickly running out of the office and down the hall where he left his communicator. I’m sure someone knows what to do..

He grabbed the communicator, scrolling through his list of contacts in hopes to come across someone familiar.

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon..

Schlatt’s cries were becoming louder from across the hall, sounding more desperate. Each wail left a pain shuddering through Quackity’s chest.

“C’mon for fuck’s sakes!” One solid scroll later, and he saw a contact.

“Phil!”

Phil was busy enchanting a piece of armour when his communicator buzzed. Quackity?

Why’s he calling? Weird. He answered it anyway.

As soon as he answered, Quackity spoke rather frantic, with what sounded like a baby wailing in the background.

“Phil! You have kids, right?”

Phil was on the other line, thoroughly confused by the duck’s statement. “I mean, yes I do, mate. Not sure I did a great job at it though.” Phil laughed at his own joke.

“Now is not the time for humour, Philza. I need help!”

Phil placed down the chest-plate, and shut off the grinder. “With what, mate?”

”Okay, how do I explain it..” Quackity was silent for a moment, and it was then that the cries were becoming louder and louder.

”Quackity, mate, who’s crying?”

”Okay urm, it’s Schlatt, I think? I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Is he okay?”

”I don’t know, Phil!”

Phil’s eyebrows raised, and he put his hand out in front of him in a calming matter as if it’d help Quackity’s disarray, before realising he couldn’t see him and spoke softly. ”Okay, alright. Take a deep breath and start from the beginning.”

Quackity took a deep breath and slowly spoke. “We had an argument, and I stormed out of the room. I heard a crash, so I went back and when I walked in, he was on the floor. I asked what he was doing and he just seemed distant. I knelt in front of him, asked if he was okay and he just started hysterically sobbing, and I mean hysterical. You can hear him now-“

He held the phone away and to what Phil assumed was the direction of the office, where the loud wails of, a baby?, Schlatt came from. “Okay, and what else?”

“And then he started grabbing at me, and called me Papa. Papa, Phil. What the fuck does he mean, Papa?”

It began to make sense. Phil made a realising noise from the back of his throat.

“Quackity, do you know how to take care of a baby?”

”You fucking what?”

Phil laughed, and repeated himself. “Do you know how to take care of a baby?”

”What the fuck do you mean, ‘do you know how to take care of a baby?’ no, Phil! I don’t! Sure I took care of Toby now and then but he was a pretty independent kid! I only had to give him a screwdriver and a pot and he was distracted the 5 hours I looked after him!”

Phil cackled at the thought. “Okay, alright. Can you do a favour for me?”

“Sure I can, but how the fuck does this correlate to Schlatt’s behaviour?” Quackity stood with a slant, his spare hand resting on his hip.

”It seems to me that Schlatt’s mental age might have decreased. It happens to Tommy sometimes.”

“How does that even work?”

”Alright, I’m not the best at explaining this so I’ll give it a go. When someone is put under immense stress, their mind finds a way to deal with that, which is usually regressing to a younger state. The argument you and Schlatt had could have possibly put Schlatt into a state of stress, which then caused him to regress as a way to protect himself.”

Quackity was quiet, taking it all in.

”Understandable?” “So, Schlatt’s like, a baby right now?”

”Yeah! Basically.”

”Phil I am literally a terrible person. Oh my God I left a baby on his own, Phil.”

Phil cackled, “Mate, I’m sure he’ll be alright. Go comfort him, figure out what’s got him so upset and go from there, alright? Just remember to treat him like a baby, or child. Maybe ask him how old he feels, that should help.”

”Alright, thank you so much Phil.”

”Course, mate. You’ll be a great Dad I’m sure.”

“Fuck off, old man. I hate you. I hate you so much. You are literally the worst person ever-” Quackity paused, hearing Schlatt borderline screaming and was quick to hang up the call. He pocketed his communicator and ran as fast as he could back to his husband.

He quickly arrived at the office, and was glad he did at that moment, as Schlatt was trying to stand up. His legs were shaking harder than a Bambi’s and was close to falling. Quackity sped over, wrapping his hands under Schlatt’s arms and slowly lowering them both to the ground.

Once the man realised who was holding him, he immediately clung to Quackity like a lifeboat. Schlatt had never ever been this way before, sure he was clingy with the partial hand holding and little kisses but not huggy-clingy. It was practically like Schlatt had been replaced by a child, just like Phil said.

”Hey, shh, you’re okay big guy- or little guy, I suppose.” Quackity felt awkward, rubbing Schlatt’s back, rocking them back and forward. This felt oddly domestic, and he didn’t know how to feel about it.

But, in that moment, I suppose my feelings don’t matter. What does is how the fuck am I going to be able to take care of the big guy?

Quackity held onto Schlatt tightly, a big warm hug. Which seemed to help, as the cries grew quieter, and the time between them grew longer. Quackity took this time to look at where Schlatt was earlier. There was a bottle of Whiskey now smashed on the floor, the liquor spilled. As he took note of that, he realised how dangerous it’d be if Schlatt had fallen on that.

I need to clean that, now.

“Hey, honey?” He pulled Schlatt back a little. “I gotta clean the mess up so you’ve gotta let go.” Schlatt had a look of panic, before shaking his head and holding tighter onto Quackity, straddling his thighs and wrapping his arms around his neck. He buried his face into Quackity’s shoulder, and he began to feel wet spots forming on his suit-shirt.

“Do you want to be held?” A nod. “Well, I have to put you down to clean up the glass, ‘cause you could get an ouchie. You don’t want an ouchie, do you?” Schlatt’s grip loosened, and he rapidly shook his head no. “Exactly, so, if you want cuddles, I have to clean up the ouchies.” Schlatt thought before letting go, enough for Quackity to pick him up with a strain on his muscles and place him down on the oak table.

Quackity took a deep breath, “There we go, let me clean this up and we can go upstairs, ‘kay honey?” He softly smiled at Schlatt’s innocent look, who’s bottom lip was tucked under the top and nodded quickly.

Quackity grabbed the bin from next to the desk and knelt to the floor. Now how can I pick this up without getting hurt myself? ‘Cus I can’t leave the little guy without him breaking down.

…

I suppose I can surrender a blazer.

He shrugged his blazer from his shoulders, and used it as a makeshift glove. One by one, he picked up the glass, even the teeny tiny minuscule pieces that you couldn’t even get hurt on if you tried, yet Quackity wasn’t taking a risk.

Schlatt whined and stuck his bottom lip out. “Quack..” Quackity looked up, and saw Schlatt holding his hands out. “Just a sec, bud. I just gotta soak up the liquid then we can go honey.” Schlatt huffed, but didn’t complain anymore. He swung his legs to emphasise his boredom, but instead got distracted by the hypnotic movements.

Quackity picked up the dripping blazer and threw it in the bin, wiping his hands on his dress pants before standing up. He looked over at Schlatt to see him kicking his legs above the floor with an oddly mesmerised look on his face. It made him chuff a laugh.

He walked over to him, “You ready to go upstairs sweetheart?” Schlatt shot his head up, and began shuffling in his spot, quickly nodding. “Okay honey. Quick question beforehand,” Quackity walked in between his legs and held his face in his hands. Schlatt seemed to keen at the contact.

“How old you feeling, bud?” Quackity gazed into his eyes. Schlatt squinted, looking down at his fingers before shoving three fingers in Quackity’s face. Quackity’s eyebrows raised, “Holy shit, Phil was right.” Schlatt’s mouth dropped, “No! Bad word, Quack!”

Quackity’s eyes widened in realisation and slammed a hand over his mouth. “You’re right, honey, I’m sorry.” “Is otay! ‘Tan we go ‘stairs now? ‘m s’eepy.” Right on time, Schlatt yawned, fists rubbing his eyes. 

“Yeah, let’s go to sleep sweetheart. Can you walk?” Schlatt shuffled off the table, standing shakily before looking up at Quackity with a smile. “Yep! ‘m a big boy.” “You are, honey! The biggest guy ever!” Schlatt’s smile widened, happy with the praise. 

Quackity began to walk off, and Schlatt’s smile dropped. “Quack?” Quackity stopped and turned. “Yeah buddy?” “Um..” Quackity raised a brow. Schlatt’s cheeks grew red, and he looked at his hands in embarrassment. “Tan’ you, um..”

”Buddy, I’m not gonna make fun of you if that’s what you’re on about.” Schlatt looked up at Quackity and scanned his face, checking for any hints that he was lying. He found none, Quackity supposed as he took a deep breath and broadened his shoulders. “Tan’ you hold’ed’ my hand? P’ease?” Quackity smiled.

”Of course I can, little ram. C’mere.” Quackity held his hand out, and Schlatt ran to hold it. “‘Tank you, Quack.” “Course, bud.”

They passed the kitchen, where Quackity noticed Schlatt kept his gaze for a while. “You hungry, honey?” “Mhm..” Quackity was glad he told him. “Okay! C’mon, what do you want?” Quackity let go of his hand to search through the cupboards. But when he wasn’t getting an answer, he turned around and saw Schlatt yet again looking at his fingers.

”Sweetheart, what would you like? I’ll gladly make it for you.” Schlatt sighed and walked to the cupboard furthest away from Quackity, where he opened it and in there was a few baby bottles and sippy cups. Quackity’s eyes opened in realisation. “Oh, right! Would you like milk? Or juice?” He joined the little and picked out two cups.

A brown tinted baby bottle with little sheep and a dark blue sippy-cup with yellow ducks all over. He looked at Schlatt, who seemed to be stumbling a little. He quickly put down the bottles and lifted Schlatt onto the counter. Quackity thought to earlier, how Schlatt stumbled as he tried to stand. "How old you feeling bud?" 

Schlatt did the same as earlier, pursing his lips, and lifting a finger to tap his chin. Raising his brows, he held up three fingers like last time, but paused and switched to two. "So you’re feeling little little?" Quackity put back the sippy-cup, lightly caressing Schlatt’s cheek, which Schlatt leaned into with a shy smile. 

“Alright, milk?” “Mhm!” Schlatt nodded eagerly. “Sounds good!” Quackity pulled the milk from the fridge and poured it into the bottle, “Warm or cold sweetheart?” “‘mm.. warm! P’ease..” Quackity nodded, shutting the lid and placing it in the microwave where he put it in for a minute. In the meantime, he looked over at Schlatt, who’s face seemed scrunched up in pain.

”Schlatt? You okay honey?” Schlatt shook his head, but wailed in pain. “Okay, try not to move your head hon, is your head hurting?” “Poun’in’!” “Pounding?” “Mhm!”

“Oh baby, it’s okay. I’ll give you some medicine to help it, okay?” “P’ease.” Quackity knew it was a headache, and so he pulled out the milk and grabbed an Advil, which he ground up and poured into the milk. He shook it, and gave it to Schlatt to hold. “You ready to go upstairs now honey?” “Yeah..” He nodded, and Quackity lifted Schlatt into his arms. 

He realised how odd it must seem to the workers, a 5’7 man carrying a 6’3 man. But, Quackity had the muscles for it believe it or not! Schlatt nestled his head into Quackity’s neck, as much as he could without his horns in the way. They slowly made their way up the stairs and down the hall, before reaching the bedroom and shutting the door behind them both. Quackity placed Schlatt onto the bed, the little looking half asleep as he did so.

”Buddy, I gotta get you into more comfy clothes. Do you have any?” Schlatt drearily looked over to a chest in the corner of the room, and pointed. Quackity went over to the chest and opened it, where he found tons of children’s toys, a few large, yet soft outfits and a pacifier. He pulled out a fluffy sheep onesie, seeing it’s the one to match his own that Slime had gifted them as a marriage gift. He softly smiled at the memory, before standing up and walking back to the little who had already shedded into just his boxers. Quackity snickered.

Without much help, the duck shuffled the onesie onto the half-asleep man. Which believe me, it’s harder than it seems. Once he buttoned the top button, he decided to change into his onesie too. So he walked over to their shared closet and changed out of his sweaty clothes, swapping them for the fluffy material.

He went back to bed, and climbed in next to Schlatt. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Schlatt cuddled into his chest. Quackity grabbed the bottle, and brought it to Schlatt’s lips. He latched around the tip, drinking it from Q’s hand.

The man softly patted Schlatt’s with the arm he’s laying on, finding amusement in the way his little looked up at him with such a mindless gaze. And once the bottle was finished, he placed it on the bedside table and plopped the pacifier into Schlatt’s mouth. It was a brown pacifier, a mixture of brown and white beads decorating the clip and a little sheep bead on the base of it. Quackity smiled, so on brand.

Soon after, his breathing evened out, the sucking slowly stopped and his eyes drifted closed. Quackity leaned over, placing a kiss on the little's forehead. Now the little was asleep, it gave Quackity time to think.

This.. this is what I needed.

This is what Quackity didn’t know he needed. He was glad that he could be there, cradling his husband in his arms, giving him the love he didn’t realise he had been starved of for so long. He didn’t know how long Schlatt had been regressing beforehand, but he knew that he wanted to be the one to look after him for all the times to come in the future. 

“I’ve got you, little ram.”

And with that, Quackity himself began to drift off to sleep, his hold on Schlatt firm, but not without sending a message to Phil, thanking him.