Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The easiest tricks always turned out to be the simplest, which Shadow Milk Cookie found incredibly insulting to his masterfully concocted lies. Cookies were much too trusting, following each other blindly as long as they shared enough meaningless pleasantries back and forth. It was fun to slip into his meticulously crafted personas, but he rarely got a chance to show off just how elaborate each one truly was when no one bothered doing a double-take at the new cookie who had appeared in their town out of nowhere. It made his job easier, in a way, but by the Witches it made it much more boring— especially in the Vanilla Kingdom.

The whole reason he wandered the Vanilla Kingdom was to plant the seeds of chaos within its sturdy walls and sow half-lies into the hearts of the citizens before finally reaping the reward of Pure Vanilla Cookie trying tirelessly to restore his weak, distrusting kingdom. But for whatever reason, those bright Vanillian citizens insisted on following their half-blind king’s teachings to a fault, valuing the Truth above all else. His rumors never spread far, as the targets of his gossiping would resolve the conflict through conversation as soon as they caught wind of the story. He carefully framed cookies for petty misunderstandings, but there was nothing these cookies loved more than talking through their issues. He tried to stir up conflict with one of his many aggravating personas, but the citizens remained ever-polite to every persona Shadow Milk adorned, no matter how rude or disingenuous he tried to be.

So, Shadow Milk focused his efforts elsewhere. He may not be able to spread rumors and cause distrust like he hoped, but the joys of classic pettiness and mildly inconveniencing others never failed. The cookies may not hold grudges, but seeing the twitch in the shopkeeper’s eye as he mansplained the process of growing fruit for the second time that week was delectable nonetheless.

There was one form he constantly found himself drifting into while on his sprees of mild mischief. The form was of a young boy, perhaps six or seven, who he named Blueberry Cream Cookie. It was the perfect age for trickery, he had found: young enough to be charmingly naive and adorable while being old enough to not raise suspicion upon walking the streets alone. There was something cathartic about the form, though Shadow Milk Cookie couldn’t quite place why. He imagined it had something to do with being able to see the life drain from a poor, unsuspecting cookie’s eyes as he asked them an onslaught of increasingly annoying questions, knowing that they were all too kind to tell off a child.

The afternoon skies had begun their turn into evening and the streets were largely empty, leaving no one for him to taunt. But he found himself staying as Blueberry Cream Cookie anyway, even as his walk through the town turned into a stroll through a more scenic (and much more empty) patch of forest. The setting sun cast a warm, calming glow of pinks and oranges across the trees and the weather was perfect, settling itself around his dough in a way that eased away his lingering tenseness. Usually nice weather and pleasant surroundings did little to calm him, but today was… different somehow. Instead of trying to understand why, he took full advantage of the opportunity and allowed himself to fall into a rare state of tranquility.

He sat cross-legged in a particularly inviting patch of grassy wildflowers that lay just off of the main path, occupying his hands by mindlessly playing with the greenery and getting lost in the sensation. A cautious, unpleasantly familiar voice cut through the otherwise peaceful scene.

“...Shadow Milk Cookie?”

He tried to play off the way his entire body flinched at the noise. “Hm?” He turned to face Pure Vanilla Cookie, his voice ringing with childish spirit and a practiced display of innocence. “I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name, mister.”

Pure Vanilla stood slightly bewildered and wholly unconvinced, quirking an unamused eyebrow. “You don’t?”

“No, sir.” He hopped to his feet, brushing off bits of grass that clung to his shorts.

“Ah, of course.” Pure Vanilla said as he rolled his eyes playfully, a smile gracing his features. “My apologies, I must have mistaken you for someone else. What is your name then, if not Shadow Milk Cookie? I don’t believe I’ve seen you around.”

Shadow Milk had no idea what the point of this conversation was if Pure Vanilla was going to make it so obvious that he saw through the disguise. Was he trying to pick apart his character? Shadow Milk wasn’t one to half-bake his characters, and had no qualms spending all night playing along in order to solidify his act if Pure Vanilla was truly attempting to get him to break— especially after being found doing something as embarrassing as playing alone in the grass.

“My name is Blueberry Cream Cookie.” He smiled politely, hands clasped behind his back as he rocked on his feet.

The smile that graced Pure Vanilla’s lips was aggravatingly calm. “Nice to meet you—”

“I was on my way to run errands,” he blurted out. He wasn’t sure why he said that, suddenly so desperate to prove his dedication to the bit. And, infuriatingly, Pure Vanilla seemed incredibly amused by the interruption.

“Oh?” He made a show of looking up at the rapidly darkening sky, before locking his gaze with Shadow Milk, his eyes glimmering with amusement. The glint was almost mocking, making it abundantly clear that Pure Vanilla Cookie was seeing straight through the lies. “It’s rather late to be running errands, no?”

He shrugged, doing his best to stay collected even as Pure Vanilla’s gaze seemed to mock him. “The markets are open until the stars come out.”

“Did you, perhaps, forget that today is Sunday?” The amusement in his face was palpable, the glint in his eyes just as unwavering as his annoying smile.

Shadow Milk couldn’t help the way he scowled slightly as he mentally kicked himself. The markets weren’t open on Sundays, and he knew that. Even the dumbest of cookies would have been able to see right through that lie, and yet he said it anyway. Pure Vanilla was making it abundantly clear that he saw straight through the act, picking apart his lies as if trying to taunt him into showing his true face.

“Well, Blueberry Cream,” —he winked as he said the alias— “you should probably go home before it gets too dark, no?”

He tried not to let his annoyance show on his face, but Pure Vanilla’s gentle huff of laughter told him he wasn’t doing a very good job at it.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said with a slight mock, “but I don’t have a home to go back to.”

The words “because you crumbled it to the ground” lay unsaid, but Pure Vanilla caught them anyway, the slight wince of guilt in his face fading quickly, being replaced by a smile he couldn’t help but find patronizing.

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear of your struggles,” he said with sympathy. He leaned down to meet his eyes, that same glint from earlier shining brightly, conspiring. “But you do know the Vanilla Castle welcomes all into its gates, yes? If you are struggling so dearly, why don’t you come inside and have a meal? We would never turn away someone who needs help”

Shadow Milk set his jaw, eyes narrowed. Pure Vanilla had been asking him to join him in the castle since his awakening, believing that all he needed to renounce his ways was a gentle hand of kindness, which he had violently refused time and time again. Under any other circumstances, Shadow Milk would have laughed in his face as he snapped the olive branch he was offered, but he was nothing if not a dedicated actor. If pretending to be a child was how he got Pure Vanilla to lower his guard then so be it.

He slipped back into character easily, plastering an innocent smile on his face. “What a generous offer!” He happily grabbed Pure Vanilla’s hand. “Lead the way, sir.”

He blinked, looking between the boy’s glowing expression and their now-joined hands. Shadow Milk couldn’t help but smile— clearly the other cookie had underestimated his commitment to the bit.

Pure Vanilla recovered quickly, breaking out into a warm, genuine smile. “Alright, then! We better get going before the cake monsters come out, hm?”

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes. Blueberry Cream may be a child, but he’s not a toddler. If Pure Vanilla was going to humor his disguise, he needs to do a better job than that. “I’m not scared of cake monsters,” he said defiantly.

“Really?” The two began walking in step along the path. “Cake monsters are no easy feat.”

“I fought off a whole pack of cake hounds by myself with nothing but a stick just earlier today.” It wasn’t even a lie, really— though he failed to mention that the cake hounds in question thought they were playing a game, chasing after the stick happily while Blueberry Cream ran off.

“Wow,” Pure Vanilla whistled, his tone vaguely disingenuous, “that’s quite impressive.”

“I know,” he said snarkily. He found the other’s amused smile irritating. Pure Vanilla clearly wasn’t convinced of his character. Well, if he wanted the full, bratty Blueberry Cream Cookie experience, he was more than willing to comply. He wondered how long it would take for that precious smile on his face to twitch with annoyance…

He swung their combined hands in what he considered an obnoxious display of boredom as he looked around impatiently, huffing and sighing with dramatics. When he glanced at Pure Vanilla’s expression, though, it only seemed to grow more fond as he happily swung his hand in tandem with Shadow Milk. How annoying. If he had a child clinging to him, he would have shoved them to the ground by now, but apparently Pure Vanilla reacted to children with adoration instead of contempt like a normal cookie. Ugh. What’s something annoying that children do? Something that would make even a cookie of infinite care and patience start to crack? He smirked.

“Are we there yet?” he whined, his already childish voice raising another octave.

If anything, Pure Vanilla’s smile only grew at the childish comment. “Not yet.”

He let out a long, dramatic groan that trailed into an annoying squeak. He kicked a rock down the path. “Are we there yet?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Kick. “How much longer?”

“About fifteen minutes, perhaps?”

“Ughhhh.” Kick. “But that’s, like, forever.”

“Oh, I’m sure the time will pass.”

Shadow Milk groaned obnoxiously. Kick. The rock veered off path and he tugged Pure Vanilla harshly so he could reach it for another kick. Pure Vanilla’s irritating, unwavering smile made him kick the rock even harder.

“Are we there yet?” Kick.

Not even a flinch of irritation. “Not quite, darling.”

His next huff was entirely genuine, no act required. His performance wasn’t supposed to be cute, yet his audience was reacting as if he was just some harmless little kid acting in a school play. He could drop the act and set this kingdom ablaze, which Pure Vanilla knew. But… he also knew that Shadow Milk was at the mercy of the innocent Blueberry Cream Cookie until he decided to break character. And, by breaking character, he was indirectly admitting to playing in the flowers on his own volition. Hmph.

He groaned again, kicking the rock with even more fervor. He watched with dismay as the rock skid completely off path and lost sight of it within the tall grass. He scowled, trying to find a new rock to be the object of his anger, but all the remaining bits of gravel were too small to kick properly. The whine that left him was also embarrassingly genuine.

“Are we there yet?”

Pure Vanilla Cookie had the audacity to laugh at him. “I’m afraid not.”

He kicked at the ground, sending a few pieces of gravel spraying across the path. He watched with faint amusement as the stirred-up dirt settled onto the hem of Pure Vanilla’s otherwise pristine white gown. He kicked his other foot across the dirt and watched the cloud of dirt land, once again, on the cookie’s otherwise pristine gown.

He tugged on Pure Vanilla’s hand harshly. “Are we there yet?”

“Hm…” Pure Vanilla looked around, pretending to be genuinely contemplating the question, a familiar amused look in his eyes. “I don’t believe so. Why?” His voice tilted in a way Shadow Milk found patronizing. “Did you spot the castle already?”

He whined, genuine frustration continuing to build as the line between Blueberry Cream’s feelings and Shadow Milk’s started to blur. Surely Pure Vanilla was doing this just to get a rise out of him. He scowled, shoving another forceful kick to the ground, aiming the dirt for his robes again. He smiled, slowing down considerably so that he could slam his foot properly into the ground with each step and spray more dirt directly onto the other. Pure Vanilla’s smile didn’t falter, his only reaction to the dramatic dirt-kicking being to match the kid’s pace.

“How much longer?”

“Well,” he laughed, “the slower one walks, the longer the journey will take.”

Shadow Milk scowled. “I’m not walking slow,” he insisted, slowing their pace to a near-stop and shoving an accusing finger in the other’s face. “You are.”

“Ah, is that so?”

“Yuh-huh. Slow old man can’t even walk right.”

Pure Vanilla snorted and rolled his eyes, not bothering to humor the other with a response.

“I’m bored.” He lazily bumped into Pure Vanilla’s side, purposefully stumbling over his own feet. “And— and my feet hurt.” (Which wasn’t even a lie— the embarrassingly weak body Dark Enchantress had concocted for him was much more suited for floating than walking.)

Pure Vanilla laughed softly. “Don’t worry, we’ll be at the castle soon.”

His next whine had a particularly dramatic flair, designed to be as high-pitched and annoying as possible. He tugged on his hand impatiently, intentionally slowing their pace even more as he dragged his feet and kicked up as much dirt as he could with each step. After a few tantalizing paces, Pure Vanilla came to a complete stop. He couldn’t resist smiling as he looked up, sure that he had gotten him to crack, yet Pure Vanilla gleamed as happily as ever.

“How about this, hm?” He leaned on his staff as he crouched down to meet his eyes, squeezing his hand gently. “How about I carry you the rest of the way?”

“I’m seven,” he decided, pulling his hand free and crossing his arms with a huff. “You wouldn’t be able to carry me all the way there even if I wanted you to— which I don’t.”

“Oh, but I’m sure I could. I’m a lot stronger than I look.”

“Psh, I doubt it.” He looked Pure Vanilla up and down. “You’re a skinny old healer and I’m a grown kid.”

“Well—”

“And you’re old,” he added quickly.

“Well,” he continued with a laugh, holding out his arm in invitation. “Feel free to prove me wrong, hm?”

He narrowed his eyes. What a lame attempt at goading him. Him, the Beast of Deceit, falling for such a basic attempt at manipulation? It was a downright shameful attempt at provocation— nothing but a lazy ploy to bait him into giving Pure Vanilla exactly what he wanted. He didn’t need to prove anything, he knew Pure Vanilla wouldn’t be able to carry him all the way there. But… a childish part in the back of his mind did want to prove him wrong more than anything. And by the Witches it would be funny to watch Pure Vanilla struggle to carry him, wouldn’t it? How long would it take for him to give up, he wondered?

Pure Vanilla looked at him expectantly.

Shadow Milk huffed and shifted his weight between his feet once, twice— the motion reminding him how much his feet ached. Ugh. Why did he give his disguise dress shoes, again? With a huff and a roll of his eyes, he begrudgingly walked into awaiting arms, refusing to look at Pure Vanilla’s delighted expression.

Annoyingly, the weak, skinny old healer didn’t even have to set his staff down. With just his one free arm, he braced Shadow Milk’s legs and swept him up onto his hip as if he were a toddler. He had a snarky comment ready, but it died on the tip of his tongue as he got swept into the cookie’s arms, instead coming out as an adorable, indignant squeak as he wrapped his arms around his neck for balance.

Pure Vanilla stood up in full, smiling widely at the kid in his arms as he repositioned him. Shadow Milk was a bit too tall for the position to be completely comfortable, the action much more suited for a toddler than a child, but the gentleness in which Pure Vanilla held him wasn’t… entirely uncomfortable.

“How’s that?” he asked.

Shadow Milk crossed his arms and hoped his lack of eye contact would make the blush of his cheeks less noticeable. It seems he had underestimated Pure Vanilla’s strength, and was now going to have to either admit he was wrong and demand to be put down, or allow himself to be carried complicitly all the way back to the castle. Both options were equally undesirable, each a fatal blow to his precious dignity, which already grew thin thanks to Pure Vanilla’s teasing. So he opted to not say anything, and Pure Vanilla took the silence as an invitation to continue their walk.

He found himself relaxing deeper into his arms. It was all part of the act, obviously. The more he pretended to let his guard down, the more satisfying the betrayal would be. The comfort he found in the warm, delicate embrace of the other was nothing more than his world-famous method acting, choosing to slip deeper into character of his own volition. It was Blueberry Cream Cookie who was enjoying all the attention, not Shadow Milk Cookie. Obviously. Nevermind the fact that Blueberry Cream was originally supposed to be independent and adventurous— sometimes you have to tweak your characters on the fly, you know? It’s all part of the process.

While he was temporarily placated by Pure Vanilla’s sudden affection, he didn’t forget his mission to see Pure Vanilla break with irritation. He found, however, that his usual antics were a lot more difficult while he was confined to the other’s hip. He could swing his legs as much as he wanted (and he did— rubbing the soles of his dirty shoes on his white robes, to no reaction) but he could no longer drag his feet on the ground and pout obnoxiously. Well, he supposed that pouting obnoxiously was still an option, so he did— whining and huffing with dramatics— to, unsurprisingly, no reaction. After another kick to Pure Vanilla’s leg, he tugged on a loc of his golden hair.

“What’s a cookie like you doing out so late anyways?” he asked, lacing his voice with as much brattiness as he could. “It’s past your bedtime, old man.”

“I could ask the same for you.”

“Ugh.” He tugged on his hair again. “I already told you. I was running errands before I was rudely interrupted.”

“Oh, really?” he teased, unfazed by the pulling of his hair. “It looked to me like you were playing in the flowers.”

“Was not!” He frowned and hit Pure Vanilla’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he laughed. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Shadow Milk ignored the comment, pouting. “I was on a very important mission before you showed up, I’ll have you know.”

“A mission that involved braiding the grass?”

“Wh- I was not braiding the grass! That’s stupid.”

“Here, I have an idea.” Pure Vanilla laughed softly, changing the subject. “How about we play a game, hm? I know how much you love games.”

Shadow Milk bit his lip with suspicion, weighing the offer for a moment before remembering that he was supposed to be playing a character right now. His expression changed to one of offense. “And how would you know that? I’ve never met you before.”

“Ah, you’ll have to forgive me, Blueberry Cream.” He winked. “You remind me very much of another cookie I know. Was my assumption incorrect?”

Shadow Milk narrowed his eyes, scanning him for any hint of trickery in his offer of a game. Finding none, he carefully schooled his face into an unconvincing nonchalant. “Fine,” he said. “What game?”

He hummed in thought. “Well, what would you like to play?”

“You challenged me to a game without even knowing what to play?” he huffed in disbelief. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were just trying to placate me.”

His grin widened. “And would it be such a terrible thing if I was?”

Shadow Milk grumbled to himself, refusing the other’s fond gaze. “I’m not some lamb of yours in need of enrichment. You’re being very rude.”

“Oh, am I? My apologies.” He laughed softly. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind about a game?”

“No,” he explained. “I’m just saying that if we’re going to play a game, you better take it seriously. ‘Cause I’m going to win.”

“Oh, is that so? What should we play, then?”

Shadow Milk could not for the life of him think of anything that could both be played while walking and that he could cheat at.

“How about ‘I spy’?” Pure Vanilla offered. “I’m very good at that game.” He had that familiar glimmer of amusement in his eyes again, but Shadow Milk could not for the life of him figure out what was so funny. He looked into his gaze, trying to see whatever plan he was concocting, but for once he couldn’t see through him, instead getting lost in his sweet voice and warm embrace, the feeling of comfort making his critical thinking skills fuzzier than he would care to admit.

“Fine,” Shadow Milk spoke up, observing his surroundings with a determination to win the game he had accused the other of trying to placate him with just moments ago. “I spy something blue.”

Pure Vanilla laughed again— what on Earthbread was so funny? — and looked around, humming with exaggerated thought. He turned his head this way and that, squinting at his surroundings very seriously.

“Is it… a primrose?”

Shadow Milk smiled. “Nope!”

“Perhaps a bluebird?”

“Wrong again!” he declared, kicking his legs with amusement and practically squealing with childish delight.

Pure Vanilla kept guessing, Shadow Milk’s smile growing impossibly wide with each incorrect response. It wasn’t a flower or a bird, nor was it the sky or his soul jam. By the time he asked if it was Moonlight Cookie, Shadow Milk had dissolved entirely into childish glee, scolding him for such a ridiculous guess— “it’s not even a full moon!” he had said through bubbling laughter. Pure Vanilla’s subsequent guesses became intentionally more and more absurd in exchange for more of Shadow milk’s adorable giggles, who didn’t seem to realize that he had been successfully tricked into behaving.

The sky darkened quickly, the path ahead of them only illuminated by Pure Vanilla’s staff and the occasional glimpse of the half-moon through the canopy of leaves above them. Eventually the forest gave way to a path of gleaming white chocolate tile, lined with carefully-shaped almond shrubs and manicured lilies, as well as the occasional waffle-cone street lamp. But Shadow Milk didn’t register the change in his surroundings— now wholly enthralled in his new favorite game.

Shadow Milk’s amusement manifested itself as him shaking one of his hands in a repetitive motion— his mind too cloudy to feel embarrassed over the action like he normally would. “Do you give up?” he asked, followed with a delighted squeak.

Pure Vanilla gave a deep, sarcastic sigh as he came to a stop. “May I have one more guess?”

“You guessed, like, a hundred times!”

“I know, I know! But I have a good feeling about this one.” His eyes glimmered with amusement as Shadow Milk waited expectantly.

“Is it, perhaps—” he squished Shadow Milk’s cheek— “your dough?”

A triumphant smile crossed his face, eyes lighting up as he squirmed, throwing his hands in the air. “I win!” he declared, unable to contain his delighted, infectious laughter.

“Wait, wait—” Pure Vanilla looked at him with genuine bewilderment. “It’s not?”

He brought his hands back down, continuing his repetitive motion from earlier. “I thought you said you were good at this game.”

“What is it then?” He looked Shadow Milk up and down, scanning him for anything else that was blue. “Your clothes?”

“Nope!”

“Your eyes?”

“You’re never gonna guess it. I’m too good at this game!”

“My, it seems you are very good at this game. It seems I’ve been defeated fair and square.” He sighed dramatically, leaning in with a hint of conspiracy in his eyes as Shadow Milk’s excited giggling continued.

“I now turn to you, Blueberry Cream, and I must ask—” his voice lowered into a playful whisper. “What, pray tell, did you spy?”

“It was…” He paused dramatically, imitating a drum roll before poking his finger in the other’s face. “Your right eye.”

He stilled for a moment as he took in the answer, his bemused expression turning to complete adoration. “My!” he cooed, electing to ignore the fact it was, in fact, his left eye that was blue. “That’s hardly fair! How am I supposed to see my own eye?”

“It’s called I spy, not you spy!” he said.

“Ah, well.” He let out a gentle laugh. “Wear your title of ‘I spy champion’ with pride, little one.”

Shadow Milk’s beaming gaze faltered for a moment as he was set gently on his feet. He looked around, finally taking in his surroundings for the first time since their game began, now noticing the imposing gates to the Vanilla Castle gleaming down at him. Oh. He had forgotten that they were actually going somewhere. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the disorientation gathering in his cloudy mind.

“Darling?” Pure Vanilla’s smile wavered for the first time all evening, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Shadow Milk ignored him, staring at the front of the castle with a frown. Why had he agreed to come back here? Surely he had a plan for what to do when he arrived at the castle, right? He was… he was going to let Pure Vanilla Cookie fawn over him and carry him back to the castle, where he would spring back into his normal form and—! And… do something? Distantly, he recognized the weird haze clouding his judgement and knew that something was off. Why couldn’t he think straight? He opened his mouth to say something, but any intelligible words escaped him.

Pure Vanilla tentatively removed his hand from his shoulder, following his gaze to the castle and back down. “Have… have you changed your mind about coming inside?”

He blinked harshly. Did he want to go inside? He finally tore his gaze away from the looming doors and onto Pure Vanilla as he anxiously shifted his weight between his feet, considering his options.

His feet still hurt. He barely noticed the whine building up in his chest as he tugged on Pure Vanilla’s sleeve. Why wasn’t he being held anymore?

The cookie in question looked uncharacteristically lost until Shadow Milk brought his hands up in the universal “pick me up” gesture. And so he did, lifting him back onto his hip with a slightly bewildered expression as Shadow Milk wrapped his arms around him without a second thought and curled into him.

Pure Vanilla leaned his staff against the exterior wall, bringing his hand up to gently comb through the other’s hair. “Is that better?” he asked softly.

He nodded— completely forgetting what he had been contemplating moments before— and snuggled deeper into his collar.

Pure Vanilla took in a steady breath, quietly observing the peaceful cookie that was completely melting into him. A familiar, fond smile graced his lips as he carefully broke the silence. “Hey,” he whispered, brushing a piece of hair from the other’s face. “Do you want to come inside?”

He didn’t bother lifting his head, choosing to nod into the soft fabric of his robes.

He carefully opened the door, taking his time to shut it behind him as gently as he could so as not to disturb the little cookie in his arms. He slowly made his way through the main hall of the castle, walking with gentle steps that lulled Shadow Milk into cuddling closer into him. The halls were largely empty, save for occasional cookie that crossed their path, who each would nod to Pure Vanilla politely while not sparing a second glance to the kid in his arms. The only light coming in was thanks to the magically-lit torches on the wall, basking the hall in a comforting, ambient glow as cookies began to retire for the night.

“My,” he whispered, rubbing a hand in soothing circles on his back. “Getting tired, are we?”

A blush graced his cheeks in a moment of clarity, sitting up straight. “No!”

“Oh?” he replied, unconvinced.

“I’m not tired,” he insisted, turning away from Pure Vanilla and instead inspecting the ornate wainscoting and occasional banner that lined the walls. His mind started to clear a bit— right, he was supposed to be bratty and annoying! …Why was he supposed to act bratty and annoying, again? He huffed with irritation— both at Pure Vanilla’s baseless accusation and his inability to think clearly. He felt like he should say something but all he could think about was the gentle lull of being carried and the embarrassment that came with it.

“Would you like something to eat?” Pure Vanilla interrupted his thoughts.

“I bet the food here isn’t even good,” he said with a defiant huff. He knew it wasn’t true— the Vanilla Kingdom was known for serving delicious (and free) meals from its kitchens every day. He honestly wanted to try it— wanting to see if it was truly more than just a glorified soup kitchen— but he was now very set on refusing every offer of Pure Vanilla’s. “You and your— your dumb handouts.”

“I’d hardly call it a ‘dumb handout’—”

Shadow Milk cut him off with a pinch to the face. “Dumb handout,” he repeated, smiling as his hand was swatted away.

“So that’s a no?” he asked, a familiar glint forming in his eyes. “What a shame,” he sighed, turning up the dramatics. “All those warm loaves of freshly-baked bread, the delicious cream soup—”

Shadow Milk eyed him suspiciously. This was a trick.

“Oh, don’t even get me started on the raisin buns,” he taunted. “The best in all of earthbread— cookies come from all over just for the raisin buns, you know.”

He crossed his arms, now very much aware that he had barely eaten all day but refusing to give in.

“Oh, and that’s not even mentioning the dessert.”

The way he subtly perked up at the mention of sweets didn’t escape Pure Vanilla.

“Oh, yes,” he teased. “I believe the patissier said she was planning on making schaum torte. I helped her harvest the blueberries fresh this morning.”

Shadow Milk considered this for a moment, eyes still narrowed with suspicion. Then, as Pure Vanilla turned a corner, he recognized the distinct sound of cookies chattering and silverware clinking. With a scowl, he looked behind him and realized that he was already being taken towards the dining hall.

“Hey!” he complained, kicking his feet. “I said I didn’t want your handouts.”

“Oh?” He feigned innocence. “So you didn’t want to try the schaum torte? You know, it’s getting rather late, actually.” He checked his wrist for a watch he didn’t have. “There might not even be much left. I imagine that if we wait—”

“Fine!” He couldn’t believe he was letting himself fall for the goading. “I’ll take your… dumb handout schaum torte,” he grumbled.

Pure Vanilla responded only with a smile as he continued to walk towards the dining hall. It branched off from the hallway with a set of grand double doors that were windowed with stained glass, letting the artificially bright light from inside spill into the hallway.

Shadow Milk winced as they got closer, the clamor of cookies from inside the room growing much too loud for his liking. He had to shut his eyes as Pure Vanilla opened the door to the dining hall as the bright lights from inside practically blinded him. They had only taken a few steps in when all Shadow Milk could focus on was how bright and loud everything was. It wasn’t even very busy tonight— the “dinner rush” having clearly passed— but the handful of groups that remained were chatting brightly, the overlapping conversations amplified and echoing thanks to the tall ceilings. The sound of metal silverware scratching against plates grated against his ears and the clang of a fork falling to the ground was the last straw. He slapped his hands over his ears, not caring that everyone in the room could probably hear the loud whine that accompanied the motion. It was all just too much— it was loud and bright and his mind was still swimming in that weird hazy feeling and he wasn’t sure he could stand another minute in that damned room, burying his face into Pure Vanilla’s robes to escape.

To Pure Vanilla’s credit, he read the situation very quickly— practically already back in the hallway by the time Shadow Milk buried himself in his robes. He walked a few paces away from the doors before gently setting him down. He crouched to his eye level, worry lacing his features, and tried to meet his eyes, but Shadow Milk had his head down and eyes squeezed shut, hands still over his ears.

Pure Vanilla hesitated, reaching out to touch him before putting his arms back down. “Are you alright, darling?” he asked instead.

Shadow Milk whined, shaking his head. “I don’t want schaum torte anymore.”

“That’s alright,” he said. “We don’t have to go back.”

Shadow Milk slumped forward, burying his face back into Pure Vanilla’s collar with another whine. He pulled him in close, hunched over him to try and physically block out the faint sounds coming from the closed door a few paces away. He rubbed his hands across his back, taking in deep, exaggerated breaths which Shadow Milk copied without thinking. After a few moments, Shadow Milk relaxed enough to pull back and tentatively removed his hands from his ears, opting instead to repeatedly clench and unclench his fists while he stared at the floor.

Pure Vanilla started to say something when the door to the dining hall swung open as a cookie exited, light and noise scattering back into the hallway. Shadow Milk wasted no time covering his ears again as he sunk to the floor, burying his head in his knees.Pure Vanilla must have gotten up to greet the cookie that exited the hall because he could hear the two of them starting to coverserve, making him press his hands against his ears even harder. He whined loudly to help drown out the noise, starting to rock himself back and forth. His whine trailed off into a whimper when the door to the dining hall closed once again, the unnamed cookie having gone back inside.He felt another pair of hands pressing into his own— the noise around him now falling into relative silence— and he peeked an eye open to see Pure Vanilla kneeling in front of him with a comforting smile, though the edges still tinged with concern. He let out another pathetic noise.

“I know,” he whispered, taking in a deep breath for Shadow Milk to follow. “I know, it’s alright.”

He barely noticed as the doors to the dining hall had opened slightly, the extra pair of hands over his ears drowning out enough of the noise to make the difference in sound negligible. He watched from the corner of his eye as the same cookie from before squeezed through the doorway, shutting the door behind her gently while she glanced at Shadow Milk with sympathy.

The cookie was carrying a large paper bag by the handles, which she placed on the ground next to Pure Vanilla. He smiled and whispered some kind of thanks that Shadow Milk (thankfully) could not hear. The cookie exchanged a few words of her own before bowing her head with a smile and walking past them. Pure Vanilla watched her leave, then turned back to the doors of the dining hall, standing up slightly to peek through the windows. Deeming the coast clear, he stood up and smiled gently down at the other, holding his arms out with an encouraging nod.

After glancing around for himself, Shadow Milk cautiously peeled his hands away and pushed himself off of the floor and into Pure Vanilla’s arms.

Pure Vanilla easily lifted him back up onto his hip, grabbing the paper bag with his other hand. Shadow Milk put his hands back over his ears, albeit a lot gentler this time. He wasn’t familiar enough with the castle to know where he was being taken but he didn’t really care, instead opting to shut his eyes and bury himself into Pure Vanilla, trusting that he would take him somewhere safe. There were, thankfully, no other loud noises or bright lights to annoy him as they walked through the halls.

Pure Vanilla climbed the stairs to the second floor and the atmosphere instantly calmed. These halls were a lot less grand, with lower ceilings and tiles that didn’t quite gleam as brightly from under the rug that stretched across the expanse of the hall. Eventually, he felt Pure Vanilla open a door, taking his time to shut it gently behind him.

Shadow Milk felt himself being gently set down and he peeked his eyes open to see a cream-colored bedspread beneath him. He looked around the room and— even through the dim torchlight— he immediately recognized where he was, as he had created an exact replica of it in his Spire for Truthless Recluse.

An odd feeling built in his chest as he finally took his hands off of his ears, idly running them along the soft duvet beneath him. He cautiously looked around Pure Vanilla Cookie’s chambers, eyes trailing across each detail carefully. He frowned, not being able to help the way he saw his own mocking eyes trailing in the shadows.

“We don’t have to stay in here,” Pure Vanilla said quietly, taking a seat in the armchair next to the bed. “I just knew it would be quiet.”

And quiet it was— the thick doors muffling the sound of any cookies who may be walking past, while soft rugs and furniture dampened any echo in the room. The only noise came from one of the windows, which was cracked open slightly and let in a faint whistle of evening breeze.

Pure Vanilla followed his gaze to the window. “Would you like me to close it?”

He shook his head. The breeze was nice, clearing his head and making the weight of his own emotions feel slightly less suffocating. But then, as he slowly allowed his gaze to meet Pure Vanilla’s, he felt his chest sink again. He… he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Sitting on Pure Vanilla’s bed, looking right into his soft eyes and unwavering, ever-comforting smile, Shadow Milk felt his eyes start to burn and looked away, biting his lip hard enough to bruise as he looked everywhere but the cookie next to him, who he couldn’t help but imagine was Truthless Recluse.

How could Pure Vanilla be so trusting, after everything he went through? Pure Vanilla let him of all people into his personal chambers without a second thought. Doesn’t he know that Shadow Milk could tear it all apart in a second? He could command the lilies on the nightstand to wilt and crumble, rip the pages out of every book on the shelf, and bury Pure Vanilla in the rubble while he made off with his Soul Jam. Surely Pure Vanilla knew that, right? Why was he letting him stay?

He rubbed his eyes harshly, refusing to let the tears welling in his eyes form completely. “You…” he started, breath catching. He had a lot of things he wanted to say as the fog in his mind cleared slightly. He wanted to call the other foolish and spring back into his normal form, laughing madly as he pinned the other with marionette strings and taunted him for falling for his trap. Yet he found himself doing none of that as a new want— this one much more persistent— formed in the front of his mind. He looked down at the floor, embarrassment biting through him as his tears formed in full despite his attempts to will them to disappear. He blinked harshly, trying to push them down, but they fell mockingly anyway. He turned his head, trying to hide his face in his own shoulder as he held out his arms in Pure Vanilla’s direction.

Pure Vanilla understood immediately, getting up from his chair and wrapping him in a hug. Shadow Milk shamelessly buried his face into the soft collar of his robes in what was probably his millionth moment of vulnerability in the last hour alone. Pure Vanilla was hugging him as tightly as he could, radiating warmth and comfort. He took in a stuttering breath, senses filled with the calming scent of vanilla. He felt so safe, and so, so guilty. He couldn’t stop the sob that escaped him as he gripped Pure Vanilla impossibly closer. It felt so wrong, crying in the arms of the cookie he considered his greatest enemy while his mind felt so hazy and weak. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care as Pure Vanilla held him close and whispered meaningless words of comfort.

For a brief moment, Pure Vanilla pulled away slightly to sit next to him on the bed, pulling Shadow Milk onto his lap and tugging him tight against his chest once again. He gently rocked them both back and forth, running a soothing hand through his hair, as if soothing a fussy baby in a rocking chair. The comparison didn’t hurt Shadow Milk’s ego as much as he thought it would, instead allowing himself to sway in the other’s arms as he sniffled pathetically.

The only indication of time passing was the way Pure Vanilla’s robes grew wet with tears. Eventually his tears ran dry up and he took in a few deep, shuddering breaths alongside Pure Vanilla as he tried to regain his composure. He pulled away from the embrace slightly, staring at the tear-stained spot on his robes instead of meeting the other’s eyes. He barely managed to find his voice. “I’m sorry,” he squeaked.

Pure Vanilla frowned with sympathy. “I know,” he said, brushing a stray tear from his cheek. “I forgive you, Shadow Milk.”

He didn’t even notice the name slip, too far gone to care about keeping up his act as Blueberry Cream. He rubbed harshly at his eyes, the gentle words threatening to bring back the tears. He occupied himself by looking around the room in hopes he could distract himself into keeping the tears at bay for the rest of the night. They sat in silence for a while longer, Shadow Milk not quite knowing what to say. He felt drained, unsure if he could handle any more of a serious conversation, but also wasn’t sure if Pure Vanilla would let him change the subject. He cleared his throat slightly, nodding towards the paper bag from earlier which now sat on the ground.

“What—” He winced at the sound of his own voice. “What’s in the bag?” he asked.

Pure Vanilla smirked. “Handouts.”

That got a quick laugh from Shadow Milk, who finally looked up at the other after trying to avoid his gaze for so long. His features were as fond and relaxed as ever, the smile he once found patronizing instead bringing him comfort.

He gently combed a hand through Shadow Milk’s short hair. “Are you hungry?”

“I was promised schaum torte,” he said, his smile starting to come back.

Pure Vanilla laughed. “I suppose I did promise dessert, didn’t I?” He gave Shadow Milk a gentle squeeze before gently sliding him off of his lap. He grabbed some sort of tray table from behind the bed, brushing some dust off of it before placing it down. He pointed a finger at Shadow Milk, a familiar glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Don’t tell anyone I’m letting you eat on the bed, you hear me?”

Shadow Milk bit back a laugh as he broke out into a grin. “You want me to lie?” he teased.

“It’s not a lie,” he said with a smile, taking containers from inside the bag and placing them on the tray. “Just…” He shrugged. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Shadow Milk fell backwards onto the bed comfortably, rolling his head to look at Pure Vanilla as he giggled to himself. “Isn’t this your room? Why would anyone care?”

“You know,” he said, placing down the last of the containers, turning to give Shadow Milk his full attention. “I brought a meal up to my chambers, once, and made such a mess that they told the cafeteria staff that I wasn’t allowed to leave the dining hall with a tray in my hands.”

Shadow Milk eyed him with suspicion. “You’re lying.”

“Nope,” he said. He sat down on the bed, folding his legs under himself.

“I don’t believe you.”

“What can I say?” He shifted the tray table to sit comfortably between the two of them. “I was trying to eat my jelly stew in the peace and comfort of my chambers—” He paused as Shadow Milk giggled. “And, well. Someone must have moved my chair while my eyes were closed.”

Shadow Milk laughed at the mental image— a stew-stained Pure Vanilla falling to the floor after missing his chair and immediately getting scolded by one of his staff members. He calmed down for a second, only to immediately start laughing again.

“Here,” he said, rolling his eyes fondly. He held out a roll of silverware to Shadow Milk. “Sit up so we can eat.”

He complied, taking the utensils and looking over the containers laid between them. Pure Vanilla’s description of today's menu seemed to be accurate. In between them were two lidded cups— presumably the cream soup, a paper bag with a few pieces of still-steaming bread, and two small raisin buns. The last two boxes were opaque, but— thanks to his amazing deductive reasoning skills— he knew they must be holding the slices of schaum torte he had been taunted with earlier. He immediately brought one of them into his lap.

“Oh, come on,” Pure Vanilla chided lightheartedly. “You’re going to get sick if you only eat dessert.”

He stuck out his tongue, opening the box anyway. “Am not.”

Pure Vanilla looked at him pleadingly. “Please?”

Shadow Milk glared at him.

“Just a few spoonfuls of soup, then you can have dessert.”

Part of Shadow Milk wanted to say “you’re not the boss of me, old man,” and shove the entire portion of schaum torte into his mouth anyway, but Pure Vanilla’s dumb, motherly look in his eyes made his brattiness start to dissipate.

“Fine,” he groaned, setting the container down.

He smiled. “Thank you.”

The soup was definitely a step up from what he was expecting. It tasted fine, but he didn’t really want to keep eating it after the second spoonful— his appetite shot from his little crying session— but he was overcome with an embarrassing desire to keep doing whatever Pure Vanilla asked of him, not wanting to give him a reason to change his mind about… all of this. And it seemed to be working. Every time he glanced up at Pure Vanilla, he was all but cooing at him, looking proud every time he opted for another spoon of soup instead of reaching for the dessert box. Although, it seemed like Pure Vanilla was spending more of his time staring at him and idly swirling his own soup instead of eating it. Shadow Milk usually loved being the center of attention, but he was already being more vulnerable than he ever has and having Pure Vanilla’s eyes so focused on him— no matter how lovingly— was making him squirm.

“Hey,” he complained. “You have to eat, too.”

“I am!” he insisted with a laugh, tilting his cup towards him to prove it. Unfortunately, without the help of his seeing-eye staff, Pure Vanilla severely misjudged the amount of soup remaining in the cup and proceeded to spill it and— in his haste to straighten the cup— ended up knocking it over completely, soaking the entire tray in cream soup.

Shadow Milk erupted into loud, boisterous laughter, watching as Pure Vanilla frantically searched the discarded paper bag for napkins as the soup threatened to spill onto the bed. Shadow Milk was finding it hard to catch his breath between his fits of laughter, clutching his sides as he fell back onto the bed and kicked his feet with pure, unbridled delight.

Pure Vanilla was visibly annoyed, but couldn’t help the slight smile that made its way through thanks to his infectious laughter. “Well, I’m glad you’re finding this funny,” he said through a thick glow of embarrassment.

Shadow Milk managed to take in a breath between his fits of loud, snorting laughter. “Ooo!” he teased. “Nilly’s gonna be in trou-ble~!”

Pure Vanilla let out a noise of exasperation as he picked up the tray, accidentally sloshing soup directly onto the duvet as he moved it to the side table. Shadow Milk was entirely unhelpful, wiping tears from his eyes as the other ran around to try and clean up the mess before it stained.

“You could help, you know,” he said, scrambling to his on-suite and throwing a few towels onto the bed, one of which hit Shadow Milk square in the face. He let out a loud snort and threw the towel uselessly to the side instead of attempting to wipe up the mess.

Pure Vanilla tried to save the rest of the dinner the best he could, moving the bread off the tray and onto a towel.

“You’re laughing awfully loud for a kid with his schaum torte on the line.”

Shadow Milk stopped laughing after a second, now realizing the dire severity of the situation, and immediately jumped off the bed. Pure Vanilla started laughing in turn at Shadow Milk’s look of genuine horror as he hurried to save one of the dessert boxes from the evil pool of soup.

The box was made of thin cardboard and the bottom was already completely damp and beginning to fall apart. He opened the box and lifted out the meringue, carefully inspecting it for signs of fatal soup damage while Pure Vanilla tried to wipe up what was spilling off of the tray and onto the floor.

After a careful inspection, Shadow Milk let out a relieved sigh at the unharmed schaum torte and immediately started to shove it in his mouth.

“Could you not wait a moment?” Pure Vanilla asked with an exasperated laugh. “I can bring you a new fork in a minute.”

“No need,” Shadow Milk replied, taking a much too-big bite and smearing whipped cream on his face. “I don’t need one.”

Pure Vanilla bit back another laugh as he finished soaking up as much of the soup from the tray as he could and threw the soiled towel onto the bed. “Goodness,” he said, wiping Shadow Milk’s face with his sleeve. “I have a feeling you’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

Shadow Milk flushed at the insinuation that… this— whatever that may be— would be continuing past this strange, one-off evening. He didn’t hate the idea, but he had a hunch that he would feel a lot more conflicted once he turned back to his normal self and shook the fog from his senses. Instead of dwelling on it, though, he shoved the other half of the schaum torte into his mouth.

“Maybe,” he answered with his mouth full. “But you’re the one that let me in.”

“Of course I did,” he said idly, wiping down the table tray. “I told you as much— that you’d be welcome within the castle no matter what. I’m glad you finally took me up on the offer, even if it was under… unusual circumstances. I enjoy your company greatly.”

Having his presence acknowledged so blatantly made him fluster a bit. They hadn’t really talked about the elephant in the room, have they? He wasn’t sure that this was a conversation he wanted to have right now.

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” he said. “I’m not sure who you’re talking about.”

“Oh?”

“Blueberry Cream Cookie accepted your offer, and no one else.”

“Ah, I see.” He avoided Shadow Milk’s gaze, trying to hide his disappointment. “Well, I hope that you come visit me again, Blueberry Cream.”

Shadow Milk turned away, trying to push down the guilt in his chest. He liked Pure Vanilla. Well, at least the current version of himself did. He wasn’t completely overtaken by the childish fog in his mind— he knew that he resented Pure Vanilla more than anything and this… brief evening of vulnerability was a fluke. He knew he’d probably go back to trying to kill him after he got a good night’s rest if Shadow Milk didn’t die of his own embarrassment first.

He eventually busied himself with getting a wet rag, joining Pure Vanilla in his endeavor to clean up the mess. Pure Vanilla tried to stir up the conversation again, but he was too busy gnawing anxiously on his lip as he ruminated to bother with a response. It didn’t take much longer for the two of them to finish cleaning, as most of the work was already done. Pure Vanilla wrapped the rest of the dirty towels up in the duvet, making his way to the laundry chute on the other side of the room before… well. Shadow Milk tried to warn him, but he was a moment too late. His foot caught on the towel Shadow Milk had carelessly discarded a few minutes ago and he tumbled to the ground, his landing cushioned by the pile in his arms.

Surprisingly, Pure Vanilla was the first to double over with laughter, snorting as he threw the clean towel in his direction. “Did you do that on purpose?” he said with a playful scoff.

Shadow Milk caught the towel, letting his own laughter bubble up as well. “No!” he insisted. “It’s not my fault you can’t see.”

He continued laughing, bringing himself back up to his feet. “I suppose it’s not.”

Shadow Milk smiled to himself before he noticed Pure Vanilla patting the ground blindly trying to grab one of the towels he had dropped. Oh. The comment was supposed to be a quick jab at his clumsiness, not his literal half-blindness. Shadow Milk laughed at his own joke, which he was now realizing was much funnier than he originally intended.

“No wonder you can’t see,” he said, looking around with confusion. “Where’s your staff?”

Pure Vanilla grabbed the last of the towels, throwing them in the laundry chute. “Back by the main entrance.”

“Wh—” he shook his head. “Why would you leave it there? Don’t you need it?”

Pure Vanilla walked up to him and pinched his face. “I needed both hands to carry you.”

“You carried me the whole way here with only one.”

“It was nice to have a free hand.” He shrugged. “Plus, this is my home. I know where everything is.”

“Except for that towel.”

“Yes, except for that towel,” he laughed. “I’m sure someone will spot it in the morning and set it outside my room.”

“Why don’t you just go get it yourself?” he asked with a smirk. “Making your servants do all your dirty work?”

“Well.” He ran a hand through Shadow Milk’s hair. “Would you like to come with me to get it, then?”

Shadow Milk smiled and threw himself down on the bed dramatically. “Oh, how I would love to,” he said sarcastically. “But you’ve kept a little kid up way past his bedtime and I am much too tired to accompany you.”

“Ah, well,” he said, paying Shadow Milk no mind as he walked past. “Guess I’ll just have to get it all by myself.” He reached for the door handle, turning it tantalizingly slow as Shadow Milk glared. “Wouldn’t want anyone else doing my work for me, would I?”

“You’re so annoying,” he huffed, rolling off of the bed.

He smiled, opening the door and letting Shadow Milk walk out before him. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Shadow Milk huffed. “Annoying.”

“Would you prefer it if I carried you there?” he asked with a glimmer of amusement.

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was being mocked by the man that tripped over himself, like, 2 minutes ago. Despite his desire to show no weakness to Pure Vanilla— not wanting to give in to his cruel teasing— he once again found himself wrapped up in the other’s arms, being swung onto his hip as if he weighed nothing.

The hallways were much darker now, the ambient glow of torches being used solely as night-lights to stop one from running into a wall. It didn’t bother Pure Vanilla, who knew the castle like the back of his hand— but it was doing a very good job at making Shadow Milk tired. He had no idea how late it was, the hours all blurring together, but he had a feeling that his joke about being up past his bedtime had a hint of truth to it. His eyes grew heavy as Pure Vanilla carried him gently down the stairs. He curled himself deeper into the comfortable, vanilla-scented robes. He attempted to stifle a yawn, which Pure Vanilla noticed immediately and responded to with an amused huff. He couldn’t find it in himself to be offended, instead letting himself slip his eyes shut, the only thing keeping him tethered to reality being the safe warmth of the cookie who held him.