#I absolutely adore lee Prismo 🥺💖💖💖

[veryblushyswitch]

LITERALLY SO ADORABLE 💖💖💖

A Little Dusty

AN: Again, I know it’s late but just be glad I’m still tryna pump these out. I’m literally sooo obsessed with Prismo, the flat boi needs to be WRECKED! Anyways, here’s day 14, enjoy!

The Scarab would never admit it out loud, but being stuck in the Time Room with Prismo wasn’t as asinine as he’d first thought. He’s still getting used to his new form, but he manages to get by. And his new roomie was chill, all things considerer. He let him pick out his own room, offered fresh pickles any time he wanted, and most importantly, he didn’t care if the Scarab was actually doing his job.

Despite the hot tub, TV wall, and the computer Prismo introduced him to, he found himself getting bored and restless as the days dragged on. Each day like the one before, more or less. He was starting to understand why Prismo went and made an unauthorized universe. He understood, but that didn’t mean he had to stop cursing the wishmaster’s name for putting him in this mess.

It was one of those days when he longed for the outside world- to hunt down violators across the vast multiverse. But noooo, there was a good chance that might never happen again. He was busy dusting, glaring at Prismo from across the room. He was oblivious to the stare, completely engrossed in his work. The Scarab would watch as he’s hum and giggle to himself before typing away on the keyboard. Some times he wore a more serious expression, typing something out before shaking his head and deleting it. And other times he just stared at the screen, hands unmoving and frown etched onto his face. The Scarab was a little curious what he’d been working on, but he didn’t plan on asking.

He slowly made his way around the room idly dusting at nothing. He’d dusted only last week, but he needed something to keep himself busy. Now he stood beside Prismo, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Could you move? I’m trying to clean.”

Prismo paused and glanced around the room with a shrug. “Looks pretty clean to me Scrabby. Why don’t you take a load off?” he asked, brushing him off and returning his attention to the laptop.

“Unlike some people, I don’t like to leave things unfinished.” Prismo seemed to miss the subtle dig tossed his way and the Scarab huffed in annoyance. “Look, I already cleaned over there, so why don’t you go sit on that wall?” he asked, pointing over his shoulder. Prismo’s gaze didn’t leave the screen. “Prismo!” he yelled with a stomp.

Prismo glanced up for a split second. “Yeah?”

“Move!”

Prismo groaned loudly, looking at the Scarab with annoyance. “Dude, I’m in the zone right now. I just wrote like 10 pages in five minutes!” he bragged, going back to typing. “If I move now, it’ll throw off the whole groove I’m in.”

The Scarab was done.

He threw his hands in the air with an annoyed huff. “FINE, be that way! I’ll just- I’ll dust around you since you won’t move,” he growled out, but Prismo continued to type away happily. It was infuriating, if not cute. Wait, he did not just think that about Prismo of all people…

He resumed dusting with a huff, sweeping the feather duster over his head, working his way down. He was lost in thought and didn’t pay much attention to where he was sweeping, and his general annoyance towards the wishmaster meant he didn’t necessarily care if he dusted him in the process. But he certainly noticed when his duster trailed too close to Prismo’s side, making him spasm and squeal, darting across to the opposite wall, laptop forgotten.

“Wohoah, hey, you could��ve just asked me to move, no need to start dusting me,” he rambled, hoping to mask his nerves. The Scarab just stared at him in wide-eyed shock.

“I did,” he said bluntly. Prismo chuckled nervously, rubbing his neck.

“Oh, y-you did? Sorry, I don’t remember I tend to zone out when I’m busy.”

“So it would seem.” He looked down to the soft tool in his hand and back at Prismo, a sly smirk hiding behind his mask. He noticed that his feet were now resting in the spot he’d previously been, seeing as he jumped to the opposite wall. Now, he wasn’t stupid, he knew what just happened. But he could play dumb.

The Scarab resumed his dusting, humming to himself as he brushed over the tops his feet. Prismo shrieked, yanking his legs away and tucking them close to his chest. He stared at the Scarab with a wide, unblinking eye and gulped.

“You uh-“ he cut himself off and cleared his throat when his voice came out too high. “You scared me.”

“Really?” he squinted at him, walking closer and relishing in the way Prismo was slowly backing himself into a corner. “Because normally, only ticklish people are afraid of feathers.”

He couldn’t hope to contain his nervous laughter or the obviously flustered stuttering. “W-wha whaaaat? N-no way bro, that’s just silly,” he tried to brush him off, waving a hand in the air. “I mean, I’m flat! So, there’s really nothing to tickle, haha! …Right?”

The Scarab arched a brow. “You’re asking me?” Prismo stuttered again and yelped when the Scarab was suddenly standing next to him. Quite frankly, he didn’t know what to say.

“You can go back to cleaning now.” The low chuckle the Scarab let out really wasn’t comforting.

“Okay, if you insist.” Prismo was given no time to ponder before soft feathers brushed over his belly. Bubbly giggles start building up in his chest as he curls in on himself, doubled over where the two walls meet. When the Scarab started swirling the duster in tight circles across his tummy, a loud snort broke the dam, allowing his high pitched laughter to fill the Time Room.

“Scrahahabby whahat are you dohohoing?” he asked, hiding his growing blush behind a hand as he weakly swatted at him with the other.

“I’m doing what you said: cleaning,” he teased in a deadpanned voice, trying to act as though this wasn’t the most fun he’s had since his punishment began.

“Nohohot mehehe!” he squealed when he began targeting his ribs, causing him to dart to another wall for safety. The Scarab tutted and shoot his head.

“Poor Prismo… it would seem as though you’ve nowhere left to turn,” he taunted, twirling the duster triumphantly. He laughed when he noticed him glance at the trap door for a split second. “You’re not really gonna run away from a few feathers now, are you?” he asked smugly. Prismo’s blush grew darker as he failed to speak, crossing his arms instead.

“Well that’s not very nice,” he grumbled.

“Good,” the Scarab said bluntly before sitting down on Prismo’s ankles, trapping them. He barely had enough time to protest before dozens of soft fibers swept over his feet. His giggles raised in both pitch and speed, a few more snorts managing to slip through.

The Scarab had always scared Prismo. He had such an intimidating aura, and everything about him screamed ruthless killer. After living together for a while, he thought maybe he wasn’t so cruel after all, but as he laid there laughing at his mercy, he thought that maybe he hadn’t been so far off with his initial judgment.