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This whole situation is Bad’s fault.
Or at least, that’s what Skeppy tells himself, ankle deep in the sludge of some swamp in the middle of nowhere. Bad had asked for cocoa beans, and Skeppy was going to get them for him, even if the closest jungle was several biomes away, even if Skeppy was going to whine and groan and make a big deal about his laborious struggle when he got back.
His boots make a squelching sound as he trudges through the marshy water. In the distance, he sees tall jungle trees and vast greenery, and he picks up the pace despite his shoes filling with mud. Examining the landscape closer to him, he sees a witch hut and places a hand on the sword at his hip, creeping to the door. He hears zombie groans and skeleton rattles from the fog surrounding him, but the hut itself is empty, so he breathes a sigh of relief and goes in.
When he steps over the threshold of the house, the floorboards creak. The back of his neck prickles and he whirls around-
-only to come face to face with the witch, standing in the doorway.
In the end, he doesn’t get a single swing in. All he hears is the shattering of a splash potion and cackling, then he feels his body dropping as his consciousness blacks out.
--
Skeppy slowly awakens to see tall grass towering over him. Initially, he thinks he’s shifted back to his natural height. Things appear larger than usual, and his vision itself isn’t any different than when he becomes a tiny diamond gremlin, or Fun-size Skeppy! as Bad calls him. Skeppy tries to smile recalling the nickname, but finds that his mouth doesn’t exactly move that way. Abruptly, Skeppy realizes a number of things that are different about his physical form.
He crawls (walks?) over to a patch where the water is less murky and almost falls in when he sees his reflection. Instead of blue diamond and brown skin, he sees dirty fur, round eyes, and floppy ears. Whatever the witch had done had transformed him into a small, white dog.
“What the fuck,” Skeppy says. Or at least, tries to say. Somewhere along the way, the thoughts become barking, and he sounds like a certified canine. Okay, not a talking dog, then.
All his items, including his communicator, are completely drenched - fortunately nothing highly valuable, but a little inconvenient, since he would normally just be able to beg Bad to magic him back home. Bad would do it, just for him. Simp, Skeppy thinks, despite currently being thousand blocks out from spawn obtaining random foodstuff for Bad.
Well, it could be worse. Skeppy is glad that the curse didn’t affect his sense of direction, as he begins to run back the direction he came, now on four legs instead of two.
--
When he returns to the Badlands, it’s sundown. His pace has slowed from a brisk run to a ragged walk-- he hadn’t traveled too far for human Skeppy, but being a tiny dog made the journey back significantly longer. As he approaches the mansion, he sees Bad in the windows, cooking something for dinner. His ears perk up when Bad sees him through the window and begins to head to the door. Maybe the curse still left him recognizable?
Skeppy’s hopes are dashed when Bad begins to coo at him, like any other pet (or occasional inanimate object) Bad addresses. “Hi! Where’d you come from?”
“I’m Skeppy, dumbass!” Skeppy tries to say, but it comes out as three sharp yips instead.
“Aww.” Bad runs his hand through the fur atop Skeppy’s head, and Skeppy has to admit it’s a very nice sensation. “But how’d you get all dirty? Where’s your owner, bud? You don’t have a collar or anything…”
Skeppy barks again, resigned to the only method of communication he would have. Bad nods sagely, as if he had understood anything Skeppy said.
“That’s okay, it’s getting dark. You can stay with us tonight! I’m sure my friend Skeppy wouldn’t mind once he gets here.” Something twists in Skeppy’s chest upon hearing Bad refer to him as a friend. “He’s out on an errand right now, but he’ll be back soon. And your owner must be around here somewhere! This isn’t a very big server,” Bad continues, cheerful.
No, Skeppy thinks, as Bad leads him into the house, cleans the dirt out of his fur with soap and water, and prepares a little raw steak to set on the floor for him, Skeppy wouldn’t mind at all.
The next day, Bad goes looking for Skeppy’s owner. Being carried as a dog is different from sitting on Bad’s shoulder or head in his small form. Cradled in Bad’s arms, he can hear the steady thrum of Bad’s heart, and Bad always runs warm, so it’s cozy. It feels safe, or maybe that’s just how Skeppy always feels around Bad.
Searching is a futile task, but Skeppy has no way to tell Bad as he asks around, talking to the fiancés and Dream and even going to Purpled’s cave. Of course, all of them deny ownership of the dog. Skeppy gets some pets from Ranboo and Sam though, which is nice.
In the afternoon, they take a break, stopping by Niki’s bakery to pick up snacks. Niki stands behind the counter organizing the pastries while Puffy braids dough on a pastry mat next to her.
“Hello!” Niki says as Bad walks in, the little bell over the door jingling and alerting the two girls to their presence. She catches a glimpse of Skeppy at Bad’s heels. “Oh, your dog is so cute!”
“Thank you, but he’s not exactly mine-- I saw him wandering last night and I’ve been trying to find his owner all day,” Bad sighs. “I take from your reaction that you aren’t the person I’m looking for.”
“No, neither of us own a dog that looks like that, I’m sorry. I’ll definitely keep an eye out for anyone who comes by looking for him, though! If you don’t find the owner, Puffy and I would be happy to adopt him,” Niki says, placing a hand on Puffy’s back. Puffy looks up from the dough she’d been focusing intently on and they smile at each other, then Puffy turns to Bad.
“Hey, Bad. Speaking of pets, where’s Skeppy?”
“What?!” Bad sputters, his face glowing with embarrassment, and the girls laugh. If Skeppy were human, he’d be flipping Puffy off, but he has to settle for growling at Puffy instead.
“Aww, look, he’s defending you,” Niki giggles. She walks around the counter and crouches down to look at Skeppy, petting his back. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?” Feeling a little like a circus act, Skeppy turns around to get more pets, despite being a little miffed at the condescension.
“He’s adorable, isn’t he?” Bad says, sounding grateful for the opportunity to change the subject. Skeppy is suddenly grateful that his skin is covered by fur, because without it he would be visibly flushed at the compliment.
Bad ends up buying a muffin for himself (of course, Skeppy thinks fondly) and a bone-shaped dog treat for Skeppy. They sit down at one of the bakery tables. When Bad sets the treat down in front of him, it doesn’t look very appetizing to his human brain, but some part of him instinctually recognizes it as food and so he licks it with his tiny dog tongue. Whatever is in it must be good for dogs, because without thinking about it, he’s scarfed down the entire treat.
“Wow, you finished that fast, you must have been hungry!” Bad exclaims. “I should probably get used to feeding you regularly, because it doesn’t seem like you belong to anybody here, so I feel a little responsible for taking care of you.”
Oh, thank the gods, Bad is taking him in. Skeppy barks, trying to make it sound as affirmative as possible. Bad either understands or does a good job of pretending he does, because he nods and continues.
“You don’t look like you have a collar, or a nametag, or anything. You probably don’t even have a name!” Bad turns to Niki, who is washing her hands. “Do either of you have any name suggestions for this guy?”
“It’s your dog, you should be the one to name it. It’ll be more special that way!” Niki replies, wiping her hands on her apron.
“She’s just saying that because she can’t think of any names,” Puffy calls from where she had gone into the break room.
“I am not,” Niki denies. “I just think naming a dog is a very important exchange between a dog and his owner.”
“Whatever you say, Niki,” Puffy says, skeptically.
“Alright, alright, I won’t put that pressure on you guys,” Bad says, grinning. He leans down to Skeppy, who perks up his tail in anticipation. “I think I’ll call you… Mr. Barks!”
Skeppy wishes dogs were capable of groaning, because of course.
--
Skeppy accompanies Bad for the next few days as he goes through his daily routine, following him around on trips to their friends’ houses and supply runs. At first, it feels a little invasive to see how Bad acts when he’s not around, but Skeppy quickly realizes that since they already spend so much time together, nothing much has changed.
Well, except for one thing. Over the course of the week, Skeppy gets a taste of just how much Bad talks about him when he isn’t around. Everywhere they go, no matter who they visit, Bad finds a way to mention human him at least once per task. Even if no one else is around, Bad tells dog-Skeppy at least five times a day about his best friend Skeppy who is a great guy and his favorite person ever.
“Cornflowers always remind me of Skeppy!” he says, when he’s gathering flowers for their dining table centerpiece.
“Skeppy and I used to live in a treehouse in a tree just like this, before we moved here,” he says, when he’s chopping down trees to make planks.
“Skeppy once made me get him a bunch of sand. I don’t think he even ended up using it,” he says, when he helps Foolish gather sand to expand his summer home.
Even though it’s nothing Skeppy didn’t already know, it’s incredibly validating to know that Bad thinks of him as much as he thinks of Bad, and that the clinginess isn’t just a bit. It makes him hopeful that perhaps his feelings are reciprocated.
But the constant insight into Bad’s life without Skeppy isn’t always fun. Halfway through the week, Skeppy finds Bad gazing out the window of the mansion over the kitchen counter. He nudges Bad’s ankle with his head to get his attention. Bad starts and looks down, and Skeppy sees that the glow of his white eyes are duller than usual.
“I miss Skeppy, Mr. Barks.”
Bad turns around and slides down against the counter so he’s sitting on the bedroom floor, holding out his hands. Skeppy spins in a circle and crawls into his lap.
“He went to find me some cocoa beans, and I guess he must still be searching. I trust him to come back, but he usually isn’t gone for this long.” Bad sighs. “I really am clingy, aren’t I?”
Skeppy headbutts Bad’s arm and barks, in an attempt at reassurance, and Bad gives a hollow laugh. Skeppy hates seeing Bad like this.
“I guess I have you, Mr. Barks. You came at just the right time. He’ll be back soon, I know it.”
--
A day or two later, Skeppy learns something new about Bad for the first time in a while, and it is Bad’s habit of going up to their mansion’s roof in the middle of the night. In hindsight it makes sense; as a nether creature with skin dark as obsidian and batlike wings, Bad’s form is more suited to the night than the day, and even Skeppy can see the appeal in sitting outside in the cool nights typical to the Dream SMP’s climate.
Skeppy hears footsteps, and wakes up in the dark, in the makeshift pile of cushions Bad built for his bed. There is a figure in the hallway outside Bad’s door. Skeppy barks, two sharp noises that will surely make Bad aware of the intruder. The figure rushes over to him, and for a moment Skeppy rears back, preparing to attack whoever it is--
“Hey, no, no, it’s just me, Mr. Barks!” Bad says, scooping Skeppy up. Skeppy growls once, in irritation rather than anger this time. “I know, I’m sorry I scared you. But how about this-- I was on my way up to the roof, how about I take you with me?”
Skeppy barks again, affirmatively.
“Now, hold on, okay?” He walks out of their mansion, into the dark night, taking off as soon as the cool air hits them, and Skeppy’s stomach drops out at the sudden change in altitude. Quickly, they reach the roof and Bad sets Skeppy down beside him, while he dangles his legs over the side of the building.
“It’s nice up here, isn’t it?” Bad says, gazing up at the stars. Skeppy nudges Bad’s hip and wags his tail in agreement.
“I want to bring Skeppy up here sometime. I think he would like it, even though he’s not very much of a night owl.” Bad is right, Skeppy does like it up here, with the night breeze ruffling his fur and Bad dimly lit with starlight next to him, beautiful as ever.
“He means a lot to me, you know? I know I should back off and stop being so clingy, but he just— he just makes everything so much better when he’s around, can you blame me for always wanting to be with him?” Bad scratches Skeppy behind the ears. Skeppy would be a puddle on the floor right now if dogs could melt.
“He’s my other half, I think. I love him so much. And he’s my best friend, but—“ Bad’s voice gains an edge of wistfulness— “sometimes I wish we were more.” What. What. “But we’ve been together for so long that I think it’s not worth risking messing things up between us over my… feelings.” Skeppy has never wished to be human more than right now. He wants to be human, he wants to be able to scream in frustration at his own ignorance and he really, really wishes he could kiss Bad. He resorts to chasing his tail really fast. He hopes it conveys his highly conflicted emotions.
“I really, really miss him, Mr. Barks,” Bad says, finally, completely oblivious to the dog chaos occurring next to him.
“Gosh, I’m rambling again, aren’t I? I’ll stop now, you probably don’t care about all these human problems,” Bad says. He looks tired. “I wonder if you understand me at all.” Skeppy makes a huffing sound with his nose, in place of a laugh. If only Bad knew how much Skeppy understood.
“We should probably be getting back to bed, huh?” Bad scoops up Skeppy. “I don’t know how much sleep dogs need, but I’m sure being awoken in the middle of the night is inconvenient for you.” The way back down is just as fast as the way up, but Skeppy doesn’t even notice the drop, lost in thought at all the new information. Bad carries him into the mansion, into his bedroom, and then sets him on the floor.
“Oh, wait! I need to put you back in your own bed. I’m sorry, buddy,” Bad exclaims, then goes to pick Skeppy back up.
Skeppy does not want to go back to his cold bed in the hallway. He eludes Bad’s grasp and embarks on a mission to climb up the side of Bad’s bed using the comforter.
“Are you trying to get on the bed? Do you wanna stay here?” Bad says, amused. Skeppy yips agreement and continues trying to gain purchase on the side of the bed. “Okay,” Bad laughs a little, grabbing Skeppy and depositing him on the bed. He gets under the covers, and rolls over and curls up around Skeppy, and maybe it’s selfish, but suddenly Skeppy is okay with being a dog for now if it means getting more nights like this, where he gets to drift off wrapped up in Bad’s arms, knowing how loved he is.
--
Skeppy wakes up slowly. At first, his sleep-addled mind freaks out because this is not his bed, but then the events of the previous night come rushing back and he relaxes. Bad loves him, Bad wants to be more than friends, even, Skeppy thinks giddily. He begins making plans to ask Bad out once he’s human again. Would Bad want something flashy? Something romantic? Both, probably.
Bad’s body heat is a comforting, heavy presence next to him, and he stretches out his limbs, lulled back to sleep--
Wait. His limbs ?
Skeppy’s sleep-addled mind promptly goes back to freaking out. Somehow, he’s become human again sometime over the course of the night, and now he’s next to Bad in Bad’s bed, and oh gods Bad is moving, Bad is throwing an arm over Skeppy, don’t move don’t move don’t move. Skeppy belatedly and gratefully realizes he had kept his clothes in the transformation.
Bad purrs and shifts again, stretching and yawning, and Skeppy scrambles out of Bad’s arms to sit on the edge of the bed. Well. So much for not waking him up.
“Mr. Barks?” Bad asks, eyes still closed. Skeppy winces at the name, and figures it’s probably best to get this over with as soon as possible.
“No, uh, it’s. It’s me,” Skeppy corrects softly, his voice hoarse with disuse. He clears his throat, and continues, louder this time. “I was Mr. Barks, but… now it’s just me.”
“Skeppy…” Bad murmurs sleepily. Skeppy wonders at the amount of adoration poured into that one word. Then something seems to sink in Bad’s brain, and his eyes fly open. It would be funny if Skeppy wasn’t currently seized with panic. “Skeppy!?” Bad sits up, distancing himself from Skeppy.
“Yeah,” Skeppy says, sheepishly.
“Skeppy, I swear, if this is another one of your trolls-- it’s not funny.” Bad says, and the hurt in his face makes Skeppy’s stomach turn.
“It’s not. I promise. A witch cast some curse on me while I was gone, and I came back as soon as I could, but I didn’t have any way of telling you. If I could have turned myself back, I would’ve, Bad, I swear.” Bad scans Skeppy’s face, and sighs when he can’t find any dishonesty there.
“I missed you so much, and you were right here the whole time.” Bad sounds like he’s still in disbelief. He sighs again and pinches his nose bridge. “So I’m guessing you heard everything on the roof last night?”
“I did,” Skeppy says. Bad winces. Skeppy climbs back onto the bed, so he’s sitting facing Bad. “You know, when I was a dog, I learned a lot of Badboyhalo facts I didn’t know before, and that was really funny.”
“Skeppy,” Bad says, drawing out the y, half-embarrassed and half-warning.
“No, hear me out here.” Skeppy can hear his smile in his own voice. “Even though being a dog was great for eavesdropping, I would never want to go back. You wanna know why?”
“Why?” Bad asks, simply. He still looks a little confused as to where all of this is going, although his shock and disbelief has melted into faint amusement.
“If I had stayed a dog, I wouldn’t be able to do this,” and Skeppy leans in, grabbing Bad by the shoulders, and pulls him into a kiss. At first it’s awkward and Skeppy’s stomach drops in doubt, but then Bad melts against him, and it’s warm and natural and right ; less of a bold revelation and more of a gentle understanding, and nothing exists outside of the sensation of Bad’s mouth on his.
They break apart, and everything is quiet and bright, and then Bad opens his mouth. “ That was the point of your little speech?” Bad says. “That was so cheesy.” His insults are softened by the absolutely besotted grin on his face, but Skeppy still feels the need to retaliate.
“Better than you could do, I bet. Also, your breath is terrible,” Skeppy complains, leaning back. He loses his balance and nearly falls off the bed, but Bad grabs both his wrists before he does.
“That’s rude,” Bad says, faux-offended, pulling Skeppy back up to a less dangerous part of the bed. “I should have figured out you were Mr. Barks from the attitude.”
“This was all your fault, you know. You were the one to demand I get you cocoa beans. I expect full compensation for all the stuff I lost in the swamp.”
“I miss when you were a dog.”
“Oh, maybe I should just go back to that witch’s hut then and get myself re-cursed, then, how would you like that?”
“ No! ” Bad says quickly, and Skeppy laughs. It’s hard to tell when Bad is blushing, but Skeppy’s been around him long enough to recognize it when he sees it. Bad lifts the blanket up and climbs under the covers. “I’m going back to sleep,” he says, hiding his face with the blankets.
“Okay. Me too,” Skeppy says, following Bad under the covers, and immediately puts his cold feet on Bad’s bare calves, making Bad yelp and roll away.
“You’re an absolute menace,” Bad groans.
“But I’m your menace,” Skeppy says.
“Yes,” Bad admits begrudgingly, “you are.”
--
A few weeks later, over their late breakfast, Bad asks, “Can we get a dog?”
“Missing Mr. Barks, huh?”
“No,” Bad denies. “Well, yes. But not the part where you were missing for a week! Just… you were such a cute dog, and it made me think that we should get one!”
So they go to a shelter and adopt a dog, small and white, just like Skeppy had been. She’s tiny and incredibly precious and Bad teases Skeppy, saying, “She’s even cuter than you were!” Despite his protests and indignation, Skeppy sort of agrees-- she has big dark eyes and a little fluffy tail, and she takes to Bad immediately. Like father, like daughter, Skeppy thinks.
When they bring her home, Bad is cooing to no end over the dog, which had already been named Lucy. Skeppy is a little grateful for that. If she hadn’t had a name, they might have another “Mr. Barks” situation on their hands, maybe even a “Miss Barks” or a “Barky” situation.
“Skeppy, look!” Skeppy looks over to see Bad holding Lucy up. Lucy is licking Bad’s cheek with her tiny, tiny tongue. “She’s giving me kisses.”
“No fair, I'm the only one who’s allowed to do that.” Skeppy sets down the supplies they had brought home, takes Lucy from Bad’s arms, and starts planting loud, wet kisses on Bad’s other cheek.
“Skeppy, stop!” Bad shriek-laughs, and Lucy leaps onto the floor and starts to paw at their ankles, and Skeppy’s life is so, so good.