#dtk

au; Kid is a bit less orderly than how Death made him to be. Or Kid and Blackstar are mad

Day 173!

𝘋𝘌𝘈𝘛𝘏 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘒𝘐𝘋 𝘹 !𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱

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warnings: none!

literally just dtk being and wanting to be babied

fluff 🤍

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𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: After a disastrous training session leaves Death the Kid overwhelmed, he immediately seeks comfort in the only place he feels balanced, your arms.

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At first, it felt like you had to sit properly. Speak properly. Exist properly. Like the symmetry of the place itself might judge you if you slouched too much or left a glass slightly off center.

Now?

You’re sprawled across one of the long black couches in the main sitting room, one leg thrown over the armrest, a book resting open on your stomach that you haven’t turned a page of in the last ten minutes. One of Kid’s perfectly aligned throw pillows is currently being used as a headrest at a very non symmetrical angle.

If he saw it right now, he’d combust.

The mansion isn’t quiet. It should be but it isn’t. Because the second the doors swing open, it’s not just one set of footsteps echoing through the halls.

It’s three.

“I’m telling you, it was fine—”

“It was NOT fine, Patty, you were leaning again—”

“That’s a stylistic choice—”

“There are no stylistic choices, there is only symmetry!”

And then, he appears.

Death the Kid walks in like he’s holding himself together out of sheer willpower alone. Shoulders tight, jaw set, composure barely intact. Right behind him, still mid argument, completely unbothered:

Patty and Liz Thompson.

You barely have time to glance up from where you’re lounging on the couch before Kid sees you. And everything about him shifts. The tension in his shoulders falters. His expression softens. And without hesitation he comes straight to you.

Fast.

“I can’t deal with this right now.”

It’s quieter than his usual voice. Lower. Not meant for anyone else in the room. Then he reaches the couch and just kinda flops into you.

No warning, no buildup just immediate, full-body closeness as his arms wrap around your waist and he leans into you, burying his face against your neck like it’s the only place he can finally relax. You let out a small, surprised breath, but your hands come up instinctively.

“Well hello to you as well.”

He doesn’t answer. He just presses closer. His grip tightens slightly, not in a desperate way just grounding. Like he needs to make sure you’re actually there.

Behind him:

“WOW,” Patty says loudly.

“He didn’t even last five seconds,” Liz adds.

You glance over Kid’s shoulder. Both of them are standing there, watching like this is the most entertaining thing they’ve seen all day.

“You guys broke him,” you say, half amused.

“We did NOT break him,” Liz replies immediately.

“He was already fragile,” Patty nods seriously.

“I am not fragile,” Kid mumbles into your shoulder.

You smile a little, lifting a hand to the back of his head.

“Yeah? You seem pretty okay to me.”

He makes a quiet sound, something between a sigh and a protest but he doesn’t move away. If anything, he leans in more when your fingers slide gently into his hair. And that’s it. That’s the moment.

His shoulders drop completely, all the leftover tension draining out of him like he’s been waiting for exactly that.

Your fingers move slowly, carefully, brushing through his hair, tracing along the neat lines he’s so particular about but right now?

He doesn’t correct you. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t adjust. He just melts.

“They ruined it,” he murmurs, voice muffled.

“Ruined what baby?”

“Our pose.”

He says it like it’s obvious. Like there is only one pose in existence that matters.

“The one we practiced for thirty seven minutes this morning?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Thirty nine,” he corrects immediately, voice tight with distress. “And yes. That one.”

Of course he counted.

Your fingers gently slide into his hair, slow and careful, tracing along the familiar pattern he’s so particular about. That does it.

You feel it instantly the way his body finally relaxes, shoulders dropping as he exhales more fully this time, leaning into your touch without hesitation. Your fingers move through his hair again, softer, slower. And this time? He doesn’t correct you. Doesn’t adjust. Doesn’t even think about symmetry for a second. He just lets you.

Behind you, Patty shifts, watching closely.

“Do that again,” she says.

You glance over.

“Do what?”

“The hair thing,” she says, pointing. “He stopped being upset.”

Kid makes a quiet, irritated sound, but it lacks any real bite.

“I am still upset.”

“You don’t sound like it,” Liz mutters.

You smile a little, not stopping your movements.

“Maybe it’s working, then.”

Kid doesn’t argue. If anything, he leans into you more, his arms tightening slightly around your waist as your fingers continue to comb through his hair in slow, gentle motions.

After a moment, he shifts just enough to breathe more comfortably, but he doesn’t pull away. His face stays tucked close, his presence heavy in that quiet, clingy way he only ever lets himself be with you.

“Stay,” he murmurs.

“I am staying,” you reply softly.

There’s a pause.

Then…

“…I still require symmetry.”

You almost laugh.

“Of course you do.”

Carefully, you guide him just enough so you can reach his face.

He lets you move him without resistance, completely pliant in your hands right now eyes half lidded, expression softer than usual.

You cuff his face gently. Left cheek first. A soft kiss. He closes his eyes. Right cheek next. Same pressure. Same timing.

Perfect.

He exhales. Not tense this time. Not frustrated. Just relieved. Behind you—

“OH MY GOD—”

“I am not reacting,” Kid says immediately, though he doesn’t move away.

“You totally are,” Liz replies.

You smile faintly, brushing your thumb along his cheek.

“Better?” you ask quietly.

“Yes.”

A beat.

“…Again.”

You huff a quiet laugh.

“You’re serious.”

“It must be consistent.”

“Uh huh.”

But you lean in again anyway.

Left. Then right. This time lingering just a fraction longer.

When you pull back, your hand returns to his hair, fingers sliding through it again in that same slow, soothing rhythm. He melts into it instantly. No hesitation. No tension left. Just quiet comfort.

Minutes pass like that.

The room settles, the earlier chaos fading into something softer Liz leaning against a wall, arms crossed but calmer now, Patty lounging nearby, still watching but less loud.

And Kid?

He stays exactly where he is. Curled into you, breathing even, one hand loosely gripping your sleeve like he just wants to make sure you won’t disappear. It’s peaceful. For once.

“…So,” Patty suddenly says.

You already know this isn’t going to be good.

“Yeah?”

“I’m hungry.”

You blink.

Liz groans.

“Of course you are.”

Patty sits up, pointing directly at you.

“Can you make us snacks?”

The room goes quiet.

Slowly…

Very slowly…

Kid lifts his head. His expression is no longer soft. It’s not even upset in the same way as before. It’s deeply annoyed.

“No.”

Flat. Immediate.

Patty tilts her head.

“Why not?”

“Because,” he says, voice tightening as he shifts closer to you again, one arm wrapping more securely around your waist like he’s physically claiming your attention, “she is currently occupied.”

“With what?” Patty asks.

“With me.”

You bite back a smile.

Liz snorts.

“She’s not your personal caretaker, you know.”

“I am aware,” Kid says, not even looking at her. “That does not change the current situation.”

Patty crosses her arms.

“But I’m hungry.”

“And I am recovering,” he replies.

You can feel the faint return of tension in him not the same as before, but protective this time. Possessive in that quiet, clingy way. Like he just got comfortable, and now someone’s trying to take it away.

You gently run your fingers through his hair again. He relaxes instantly.

“You’ll survive a few minutes,” you tell Patty lightly.

She pouts.

“Lizzz, she won’t make us snacks.”

“I’m not making you snacks either,” Liz says.

“Wow. No one cares about me.”

“You’ll live,” Kid mutters.

Patty sighs dramatically, flopping back into her chair.

“This is so unfair.”

You laugh softly under your breath, shaking. your head. Then you glance down at Kid.

“You okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifts closer again, if that’s even possible, resting his head back against you, eyes closing as your hand continues to move through his hair.

“Stay,” he repeats quietly.

You smile, softer this time.

“I told you. I’m not going anywhere.”

That’s all he needs. He settles completely again, all irritation fading as quickly as it came, attention fully back on you. Patty groans in the background. Liz tells her to get her own food.

And Kid?

He ignores all of it.

Perfect symmetry long forgotten. As long as he gets to stay right here.

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Another one done 😙

Relatively short but this idea was toooo cute

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