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themurphyzone · 4 years ago

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PatB Oneshot: Heartbeat

Based on @wimsiecal‘s wonderful Brain Meets Brawn AU...I might have a thing. for monsters...it’s bad...

There are some ideas from @thecutiewhoyaksandsnacks here too, namely Brain holding Pinky’s wrist for his heartbeat.

Summary: Brain Meets Brawn AU where Pinky drinks Dr. Jekyll’s potion.

AO3 Link

London was such a fun playground!

The horse-drawn carriages, the chimney sweepers, the marketplace!

And there was the lovely silhouette of Big Ben in the distance! Vaguely, he heard a voice call that he was going in the wrong direction, that he was supposed to hold the giant doohickey, that he was supposed to stop dilly-dallying and pay attention-

But why would he wanna do any of that? It all sounded so boring! He just wanted to play!

Bounding into the street on all fours, he took in the gray skies, coughing as a nearby factory spewed smoke from its stacks. No wonder the people all seemed drab and lifeless if all they had were gray skies and smoke.

They needed some fun fun silly-willy in their lives!

There was a man with long, funny sideburns walking arm-in-arm with a woman in a big, poofy dress! They were such a lovely couple, and they’d be perfect to play house with!

He bounded up to the couple, tail wagging in excitement at the very thought of having new playmates.

“Hellooooooo!” he said, and his voice was a lot hoarser than he thought. It was a lot harder to get the words out of his throat too. “Wannaaaaa plaaay?”

The woman screamed, and the man threw his arm in front of her.

Oh, did they want to scream instead? Okay, that was fun too!

He screamed right back.

The couple fled across the bridge, towards the other side of London over the Thames, shouting for a constable. Why did they want a constable? Unless...oh, the fashion police probably wanted him cause he wasn’t wearing anything except green fur.

He could’ve sworn his fur was a different color before this, but he couldn’t quite remember. Oh well! What’s the point in worrying over something like that?

The voice called again, harsh and scolding in that why-aren’t-you-doing-as-you’re-told sort of way. Too many big words. He didn’t want to hear big words. He only wanted to have fun!

Further down the road, a horse-drawn carriage rattled down the uneven pavement. The horses moved in sync, their hooves clip-clopping against stone. They were both large brown horses with white stripes on their foreheads, a short man with a pinched face driving them towards the bridge.

Horses were lovely, friendly animals. They’d play with him!

Clapping his hands with glee, he ran after them, nearly bowling over a group of children in his haste. They immediately scattered, yelling something about green monsters.

Once he asked the horses to play, maybe he could find that group of children again. He’d never heard of the green monster game before, but he definitely wanted to try it out!

The pathway was narrow, so he climbed on top of the stone archway that formed the sides of the bridge and switched to all fours. The horses trotted along at a steady pace, and he quickly overtook them, dropping in front of the carriage just as they reached the other side of the bridge.

He crouched down with his tail wagging, but before he could ask if they wanted to play, the horses reared up and batted the air with their front hooves. The short man screamed as he flicked the reins in an attempt to get the horses under control, but the horses shot forward instead, nearly tipping the carriage on its side.

He barely leapt out of their way in time, and the horses dragged the carriage past him and through the streets, ignoring the coachman’s shouts for them to slow down.

They didn’t want to play either.

Nobody did.

A raw, unfamiliar feeling settled into his stomach. It bubbled up to his chest, his entire body trembling. He didn’t like it. This wasn’t fun.

Why didn’t anyone want to play with him?

He screamed, sending an entire crowd scurrying for cover.

“That’s him! That’s the monster, constable!” a woman yelled before fainting in her husband’s arms. It was the couple who’d fled from him earlier.

A tall young man in a blue uniform broke free of the crowd, his arm quivering as he raised his billy club. His face was pale as he slowly approached. But he didn’t seem bad. Just looked like he needed to sit down for a bit.

He stretched one long arm and pushed the constable down. The constable’s eyes widened with terror, and he yelped as his bottom hit the pavement hard.

He hadn’t meant to push the guy down with that much force.

The crowd shuffled back, their whispers loud and accusing. Many watched him with fear in their eyes.

He whimpered and carefully held out his clawed fingers to see if the man was hurt. This wasn’t what he wanted. He just wanted someone to play with.

Before he could touch the man’s shoulder, he heard heavy boots thunder against stone. The constable beside him suddenly shot up, nearly knocking himself in the head with his own club. A red-faced man with an equally red mustache stormed across the bridge. His blue uniform was crisp with hardly a wrinkle.

He squeezed something small and white in one gloved hand while gripping his billy club with the other hand.

“OI, GET OFF YOUR LAZY BUM AND DEAL WITH THAT CREATURE ALREADY, HENRY!” the newcomer bellowed. Henry fumbled for his club while trying to stand. As he scolded poor Henry, he lost his grip on the small white thing, who tumbled to the ground in a heap.

It wasn’t a thing. No, it was a very familiar mouse.

“Pinky?” he murmured, rubbing his large head as he sat up.

Though just a tiny voice, the fog in his mind began to clear, and he remembered things like tomorrow nights and worlds and clocks. And with all that was a name.

His name.

And another too, one that belonged to his best friend in the whole world.

“Buh-raaaaaain?” Pinky said, and it was hard to get the word out when it should’ve flowed off his tongue like butter.

And there was another word too, one that brought him much joy.

“Naaaaaarrrrf,” Pinky warbled, and it was finally a word that came easy to him. It was simple and right, like a lost friend he was just reconnecting with after being apart for so long.

Brain sighed, and Pinky giggled at his funny scowl. “Of course you’d retain your nonsensical vocabulary.”

How he could sound disappointed and relieved at the same time, Pinky didn’t know. But he was here, and that was all that mattered in the end.

Pinky gently pressed the side of his finger against Brain’s cheek. Even one finger was much bigger than Brain. He was just so itty-bitty, like the spider who climbed up the waterspout!

Brain’s face turned tomato-red. “Not in public, Pinky!” he hissed, trying to shove Pinky’s finger away from his face, though he was too small to accomplish that. He stumbled with that particular action, wincing as his hand flew to a spot just above his left hip.

Though Pinky didn’t see why he couldn’t show affection, he removed his finger from Brain’s cheek. Brain quickly glanced at the crowd, but they were much too focused on how the mustached constable was berating the younger one for not doing his job properly.

The younger constable had gone paler, if that was even possible.

Brain flicked his finger. Pinky laid his head on the pavement, turning a large ear toward the smaller mouse.

“I would’ve caught up sooner, but that brutish oaf of a constable captured me,” Brain said, gripping the outer edge of Pinky’s ear as he spoke. “He knows we’re...associates, and unsuccessfully tried to interrogate me for any information I knew about you. I, of course, gave nothing away about my plans for Big Ben. Speaking of which, we’ve been delayed for too long. No more...ow, no more distractions, Pinky.”

There was a tiny hitch in Brain’s voice. The one that always appeared if he was hurt and trying to hide it so he could move on with a plan.

Pinky stood up so quickly that Brain was left dangling from his ear, feet kicking out in an attempt to find solid ground. Carefully, Pinky brought one hand up to his ear, securing Brain in the palm of his hand before bringing up to eye level.

“Enough, Pinky. Let’s depart before-what in Ptolemy’s name are you doing?” Brain protested as Pinky gently pushed him down, using his free hand to check Brain over injuries.

He rolled Brain onto his side. He winced even though Pinky used the lightest of taps above his left hip.

There was a purple bruise, visible against the white fur.

Hurt. Brain was hurt.

Fog clouded his mind once again, and this time, it was red. The city was blanketed in a crimson haze.

Part of him feared it. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, this deep urge to hurt and maim and kill.

It was wrong. It was evil.

But the urges only grew stronger.

Hurt Brain. Make man pay. Make man suffer!

He growled and doubled over, and he felt something slip out of his hand. Something important, but he didn’t remember what.

There were scary noises coming from his throat, loud and ominous and terrifying.

“He’s dangerous!”

“Kill him!”

“No! Can’t you idiots understand you’re only agitating him?”

That last voice was the loudest and clearest of all, though it was quickly lost in the cacophony.

Something struck his back multiple times.

“Why isn’t this working?” the constable screeched. The billy club thumped against thick, green fur. But the blow didn’t hurt at all. His fur was too thick.

“S-sir, m-maybe the little big-headed guy is right?” Henry stammered. “Wh-what if you make him mad?”

But the older constable didn’t listen, though he gave up trying to break through the thick fur. His sharp gaze fixated on a small, white-furred mouse.

“Sympathizer,” he snarled, as the mouse hurled long, big-worded insults at the crowd. He didn’t notice the constable’s heavy footsteps, the raised club, the shadow falling across him-

Hurt Brain! Make man pay! Make man suffer!

The mantra once again encompassed his mind, his hand striking the pavement behind Brain just in time to block the club with his wrist. Brain leapt back at the noise, clutching his zigzagged tail close to his body to protect it.

His bare wrist throbbed, unprotected by thick fur.

But he didn’t care.

Hurt Brain! Make man pay! Make man suffer!

He roared, and the constable’s mouth opened in a soundless scream as he dropped his club. Drawing himself up to full height, he towered over the man and snatched him up by the waist. His hand wrapped around the man’s chest, claws digging into his uniform.

The man whimpered, frozen to the spot as he stared right into sharp, long fangs.

You hurt Brain! You hurt friend!

He snarled, claws tightening, pricking the man’s skin. Just a little more...sink the tips in…

The man begged for mercy.

Oh, now he’d beg when it was his own life on the line? He didn’t deserve mercy at all.

He squeezed. The man’s eyes bugged out of his head, his limbs stiff and useless.

Stop this! A voice inside pleaded. This isn’t right!

Shut up! he snarled, and the man made a pathetic, muffled noise.

He wouldn’t be weak ever again. From this point on, he’d be strong enough to protect Brain from the humans.

In the corner of his eye, someone moved. He snarled in their direction, warning them to stay back or else.

The movement stopped. But he was still being watched.

Irritated, he turned to whoever dared to interrupt.

And he saw loose, drooping ears. Unsure hands caught between reaching out and protecting a soft, vulnerable body.

A pair of rose-pink eyes that were round and wide with fear, shining with a sadness from deep within.

Pinky? A trembling mouth whispered. Nobody else heard.

The red haze tainting his vision lifted. Within his claws, the man choked for breath.

Pinky dropped him.

The man crumpled to the ground, and the crowd fearfully watched Pinky. Henry dragged the man away, several people breaking off the staredown to check the man over for injuries.

He...he just wanted him to stop hurting Brain. He didn’t mean to almost kill the man!

He tried to apologize, tried to say sorry, but it wouldn’t come out. Why wouldn’t it come out?

Why was it so hard to say anything?

Only one thing came to mind.

He ran.

All he did was hurt everyone. All he did was hurt Brain.

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky ran until he was completely out of breath. Maybe it was a cowardly move, maybe he should’ve owned up, but some instinct told him to flee before he was attacked with fire and pitchforks.

He took all the twists and turns he could, trying not to think about anyone he nearly bowled over in his path.

What’s one more person? some dark part of him chuckled.

A howl tore from Pinky’s throat, the only protest he could make from that bad, evil voice. He didn’t want anything to do with it ever again.

He came across an empty alley, surrounded by tall buildings that blotted out what little natural light trickled into the depths of the city. He could crawl into the darkness and never hurt anyone else.

It was perfect.

He collapsed on his stomach, too exhausted to move to the farthest spot in the alley. Then he tucked all his limbs in so he wouldn’t hurt anybody. As he curled his tail around himself, he felt something odd on the tip.

Did he catch it on something?

He turned to look, finding Brain balancing on the crook of his elbow, clutching the tip of Pinky’s tail against his chest. They stared at each other for a long moment, Pinky’s tail sliding out of Brain’s grip.

“Buh-raaaaaaain?” Pinky asked. His words just weren’t coming out right.

“I grabbed your tail when you fled,” Brain explained, awkwardly shuffling his feet against Pinky’s fur. He winced and rubbed his left side, where the constable had bruised him. “Um, how’s your...condition?”

“Hurrrrrrts,” Pinky whimpered. It hurt to even force that out.

Worry flashed in Brain’s eyes, and he patted the thick fur on Pinky’s arm. Pinky couldn’t feel the soothing motion at all. “Pinky, you don’t have to worry about it. Nobody’s dead, so-”

But they were still hurt because of him!

Pinky couldn’t tell Brain that. It was too long and he could barely say single words.

He wanted to thrash around, to take it out on everything he could reach, but he dug his claws into the ground underneath himself instead, letting the asphalt take the brunt of the scary anger that overtook him.

The feeling soon passed.

Brain’s ears drooped. “That was foolish of me,” he mumbled, not meeting Pinky’s eyes.

And there was silence. Pinky cried, too afraid to move. What if he hurt Brain? He didn’t bother wiping the tears away. Brain made some odd sounds, like he wanted to speak words of comfort but couldn’t.

Then he settled for pondering quietly to himself.

“Show me your injured wrist, Pinky,” Brain said, in a tone that left no room for argument.

Obediently, Pinky stretched out his arm.

Through the tears that fell fast and free, Pinky watched Brain crawl down his arm and into his palm. Sitting there like he wasn’t surrounded by claws that could hurt him.

Brain carefully pushed on the bare skin, watching Pinky as he did so. Truth be told, it didn’t hurt much. Then Brain pressed two fingers on a spot below Pinky’s thumb.

“Strong beat,” Brain murmured, like he was trying to assure himself along with Pinky. “Means your heart’s good. That you’re here. With me.”

Brain looked up, and he was crying too.

Brain truly thought so? After all Pinky did?

“Heart’s...good?” Pinky repeated, carefully rubbing Brain’s damp cheek with his thumb.

“In a purely anatomical sense, of course,” Brain coughed. “And what’s more, I...I shouldn’t have put you through this.”

Brain pushed Pinky’s thumb away and slid off his hand, turning his back to Pinky, afraid to let him see his face.

“...I’m sorry.”

With those two simple words, an entire burden lifted off Pinky’s shoulders. Easier to move and breathe and talk. No more worrying about claws and hurting someone with a strength nobody should have.

Snowy white fur replaced green. No more claws and fangs. A size where he could properly wrap Brain in a hug and tell him everything would be okay.

Shedding the last of his extra height and muscle, Pinky walked up to Brain, resting his jaw against the top of Brain’s head like he’d done so many times before.

“Poit,” Pinky whispered, wrapping his arms around Brain. He was careful to avoid the bruise. “It’s okay, Brain.”

Gently, Pinky took Brain’s wrist in his hand. There was a sharp intake of breath from Brain, like he couldn’t believe Pinky was at a normal mouse’s height now. Pinky felt the skin just below Brain’s thumb, resting his fingers just over Brain’s pulse.

It was a strong, steady heartbeat.

“Good heart. And you’re here with me too,” Pinky said.

“...I’ll concoct an antidote when we get back to the lab,” Brain whispered. For once, he didn’t shove Pinky off. Instead, he turned around and nuzzled into Pinky’s chest, clutching his fur tightly like he was afraid Pinky would leave if he let go.

In the distance, Big Ben chimed four.

#pinky and the brain #brain meets brawn au #patb fanfiction #hello my mind's monster obsession we meet again

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