"Thanks dad, I'm glad you could make it before mom got home," Palette sighed in relief as he set Goth onto the newly repaired couch, tucking a blanket around him.
Ink flicked his paintbrush, repairing the last hole in the wall as he said, "No problem... just... make sure your mom doesn't know I dropped by... last I saw him, he was still feeling pretty sore about the whole multiverse thing."
"He's still mad?" his son queried.
"Enough to try to beat me over the head with his staff," Ink chuckled nervously, grimacing at the memory, "Look. You don't tell him I was here, I won't tell him you two trashed the living room, 'kay?"
"Okay," Palette replied, only to jolt at the sound of keys just outside the door.
"Shoot!" Ink cursed under his breath, throwing a quick salute to his son, "See ya, Pal. Also, eat something. You look like death."
In a blink, Ink lept through the painted portion of the wall as Dream opened the door, walking in with a bag of groceries.
"Hey mom, how was work?" Palette asked, working up a smile that he hoped didn't look suspicious.
Dream stood in the doorway for a moment, eyeing the living room as the evening sky framed his silhouette before deadpanning, "Ink was here, wasn't he?"
Palette tensed as he replied, "Why do you think that?"
Dream crossed the room, offloading the bag in his arms onto the kitchen counter as he listed, "One, your horrible at keeping secrets. Your reaction tells me I hit the nail on the head. Two, the room reeks of paint and I see no art projects in progress. Besides, Ink's paint smells a bit different from regular paint and I've spent enough time around him that I can tell the difference. Three..."
The Guardian swiped his finger against the wall, presenting it toward his son as he concluded, "... the paint's still wet."
Palette slumped onto the empty spot on the couch in defeat, "I'm sorry mom... I needed his help, and he asked me not to tell you because he knew you'd get mad."
"Well, you're not wrong... but I guess I can't be that mad at him since he apparently helped fix whatever happened," Dream groused as he wiped off his finger and approached his son, "But I'm not happy that you were planning to keep secrets from me. So, what did happen?"
---
"... and then you walked through the door. You know the rest after that," Palette mumbled, turning his eye lights toward Goth, who was still asleep on the left side of the couch.
Dream kneeled down in front of the unconscious skeleton, feeling his burning forehead and frowning, "From what you told me, it sounds like he overheated himself trying to hold back his magic and wore himself out once he released it. The fever should be temporary, so some food and a good rest will fix him right up."
His son sighed in relief at the positive diagnosis as Dream inquired, "The question is, what are you going to do with the information?"
Palette stared at his friend in silence before stating, "I caused this, so I have to help him. I didn't take Mister Reaper's warnings seriously and made Goth worry when something happened. Then I made him lose control when I pushed him... and now he's suffering for my mistakes. I'd be a pretty crummy friend if I abandoned him now, so I'll do what I can to help Goth feel better and put him at ease once he wakes up."
Dream smiled, but it held a wary edge to it. He was proud of his boy's upstanding morals, but at the same time, vexed at how stubborn Palette could be when he got an idea in his head.
The Guardian wanted to help Goth, but he didn't want his son hurting himself either. Even if Palette can't technically die from the energy drain, dusting is still a scary and somewhat painful experience.
Mulling over his options, his golden eye lights morphed into stars when inspiration struck. He grinned, placing a hand on Palette's shoulder, "Wait here, I think I have a solution to your problem."
Dream had already retreated to the kitchen before the young skeleton could question him. Moments later, he returned with a handful of snacks. Setting them out across the table, he grabbed one of the cinnabunnies and stuffed it into his confused son's mouth, "Eat."
Palette gave him a quizzical look but did as he was told.
As he swallowed, another was held out in front of him. "Keep going," the older skeleton urged, "The best possible way to counter the energy drain beside putting Goth down is to replace what's being lost at a faster pace."
The young skeleton's sockets widened, finally catching on to his mom's logic. He grabbed another item and shoved it into his mouth as Dream went to make something a bit more substantial than cinnabunnies and popato chisps for Palette.
Palette got himself settled on the couch as Dream brought out a pitcher of Sea Tea among other foods.
This plan would work two-fold: not only would Palette be able to safely handle Goth while taking care of him, but he'd be able to reassure the small skeleton once he woke up that his wayward ability wouldn't drain his friend dry.
His mom would also be present to keep an eye socket on the situation and make sure his energy didn't get too low.
It's perfect!
***
Word Count: 910