Work Text:
Dandy is not a fan of being a little.
He tries to avoid it where he can. Easy enough, he supposes, being L1, but. Well. He knows it isn't the best in the long term.
At least he has a mostly-normal life, working as an elementary school psychologist, trying his best to help the actual kids who actually need it.
It's- it's fine for other people, of course. He's known lots of other littles in his time. He even works with them, because young as they are, L3s still become clear pretty early on. Every little he's ever met has been wonderful.
…But that's because they're rewarding to take care of. Other littles do things like love you back and call you mama and papa. Other littles aren't selfish like him. Other littles don't want to be cared for with nothing to give back.
Dandy feels all itchy inside his heart and he's about to cry. Seems like he's going to slip tonight, wether he wants to or not. He just got home, too.
He fumbles, pulling out his phone. He hates doing this. He feels like some sort of brood parasite every time he calls that number - something that evolved to look cute so it wouldn't be kicked out of the nest, so it could take take and take and give nothing in return.
It rings. Once, twice, thrice, and then the line connects.
"Dyle?" Dandy hates how his voice wavers, how it feels almost artificial. Just doing it for attention. He hates how the words are sticky in his throat. "It's, um, it's one of those small nights."
He hears some shuffling on the other end. "I see. Should I come over?"
Something gnaws in his gut. "…Are you busy?" Sometimes, anyone being in his vicinity makes him feel sick, and others, he needs to hold onto someone else like a lifeline. He never really knows until it happens.
"Not really, no." And he knows Dyle is probably lying, because Dyle always says that, and maybe it's sweet, the idea of a caregiver dropping everything for their little, but. It makes him feel worse.
Dandy closes his eyes. "uhm… please, then." But I might not want you, he could warn, I might tell you to go away. Dyle told him to stop saying that every time, though, so he doesn't.
"Alright. I'm on my way." Dyle's voice is always monotone, even further flattened by the speakers it plays out of. But it doesn't stop Dandy from imagining a hint of warmth in those words. It makes him sick.
"'Kay," He already sounds smaller. "Cya. Buh-bye."
The call ends.
He falls onto the couch and sobs.
Dyle is nice.
Dyle's the only one he's ever met who's… like him.
"Do you need help getting changed?" Dyle asks, standing over where Dandy lays on the couch. Dandy likes Dyle's voice, because he doesn't do the sweet-mushy thing other caregivers do, he just talks in his normal monotone way. "Those look uncomfortable."
Dandy grips the blanket tighter, thinking. "Mm…" He's still in his work clothes. "Maybe. A little."
Dyle nods. "Okay. What should I do?" That's another thing Dandy likes, Dyle always asks how to help. Dandy's needs change all the time, and he gets really hurty when they're treated even a little different, so it's nice that they get to avoid that.
"Ge' my jam-jams. Any of 'em." Dyle's been taking care of him long enough to know where they are, thankfully. "I think I can do it on my own, bu'…"
"It's fine if that changes," Dyle assures him.
Dyle knows him too well. He's always been insecure about that. "Thank 'ou."
He watches as Dyle leaves. He hates feeling like this, feeling wrong and evil and mean, but at least they're the same. (Other littles usually want to be loved by their caregivers.) Nobody wants either of them, do they? That's how they ended up together.
How they managed to find each other, he'll never know. All his life, he thought he was the only one, thought he was alone. (Funny. Being alone is usually fun.) Doesn't stop him from being grateful. He's very lucky. How many more people are out there, struggling like he has? Hopefully they can find each other. That's his only wish.
He hears footsteps. "I'm back." Dyle says. "I brought a paci, just in case. You want?"
Dandy sits up, excited. "Mm! Yuh please!" It's probably a little undignified, the way he sticks out his arms and makes grabby hands, but at least Dyle doesn't mind.
Dyle smiles one of those small half-smiles he does. "Here you go." He hands everything over, then sits down on the other side of the couch.
Thankfully, at least today, Dandy gets everything on no problem. As much as getting help really is nice, he's not sure if he'd be able to handle the touch it'd require.
"While you get changed, should I put on a show?" Dyle doesn't look at him, instead fiddling with his own buttons. It's nice. "Or should we do something else?"
"Ummm…." Dandy shrugs off his shirt, thinking. It's kinda hard to form words when he's small. "TV, please. Vee's quiz show?"
Dyle giggles, because that's what Dandy always asks for. "Of course."
In the time it takes for Dandy to get fully dressed, Dyle has navigated to his favorite episode. the opening scene fades in right as Dandy finishes, finally popping in his pacifier as they both lay back.
…That's another thing Dandy likes about Dyle. They don't touch each other very often. Sometimes, when he's really little, or when Dyle really needs to care for someone, they cuddle. But most of the time it's simple hand holding, if there's anything at all.
Maybe Dandy shouldn't like that. But he does. Because it feels like Dyle's way of saying I don't love you. And maybe that's not normal to like, but love has always made him queasy. Love directed at him always made him queasy, because it feels like there's always the expectation of loving back.
So that's why Dyle is so nice. I don't love you, he says, and Dandy gets to say back I don't love you either.
He pulls out the pacifier for just a second. "Thankies. Fo' bein here."
Dyle glances over. "You're welcome."