"Giddy Giggly Ghost"
A/N: This took longer than I would've liked, but I hope y'all enjoy anyways.
This fic is based off of the Spooky Month: Tragic End AU, originally by @eunchancorner. Thanks for letting me write for your AU! =)
Summary: Dexter's having one of many "lows" thanks to their current situation, but then Skid discovers a very fun way to cheer them up.
Trigger warnings: angst, mentions of death
Reminder: These stories are not built on logic. They're made to entertain, not to make sense. Also, be prepared if the characters here are out of character completely (again, the intention is not to be perfect).
All credit goes to @eunchancorner for their AU!
(fic below the cut)
The sun had painted the sky pink and orange, but now the moon was rising and the sky was turning over to its usual ink-black void. The stars glittered like diamonds far in the distance, watching over the town with its stern focus.
Unfortunately, the stillness of the evening did little to help Dexter’s throbbing anger.
Their emotions had fluctuated over the last few days, ranging from them wanting to burn the house down to them wanting to curl up in a ball and cry until they disintegrated. Either way, they weren’t okay.
How had everything gone badly in such a short time? The leader of the group they’d tried to join hadn’t just stopped at rejecting them - he had decided that just knowing about the group’s existence warranted a death sentence. That memory was still painfully clear in Dexter’s head - they’d fled to the roof of the highest building in town, an unorthodox safe space they’d used over the years, feeling particularly sorry for themselves. They’d barely heard the sound of someone coming up behind them before they were trying to stand up…
…and subsequently experiencing a mild free-fall for about ten stories until they’d met the pavement. Thankfully, they hadn’t suffered for very long.
The quiet creaking of the stairs snapped them out of their brief trip down memory lane. Sometimes, Dexter would forget they weren’t alone in this house. This particular house belonged to a young woman and her nightmarishly hyperactive son. Ever since Dexter’s unfortunate “accidental” fall, they’d found refuge with the boy.
How that happened was actually pretty crazy. For the first little while, they’d been so confused about what had happened. Once the realization hit, so did the rage and vengeful feelings, but those had been briefly quelled when Dexter had stumbled across the group leader’s son.
Or, to be more specific, the leader’s son had found them first.
Dexter had been trying to come up with an elaborate and notably anger-fueled revenge scheme, before some kids on the street had tried to strike up conversation by telling them it was “Spooky Month”. First came the shock of realizing that the kids could see them even though they were not alive, and next thing they knew, the kids had convinced them to follow them. They had listened to the kids on a whim, and followed them to one of their houses. The pictures around said house delivered yet another hard truth to Dexter - they’d been picked up by the son of the man who had had them… taken care of.
Some may say this was bad luck, others may say this was good fortune. For Dexter, it had been the former first, but then the latter later on. If they were going to stick to their original plan of getting revenge against the kid’s dad, then staying close to the kid may prove beneficial. You may say this is insensitive, given that the boy genuinely saw Dexter as a friend, but try to consider Dexter’s position.
Moving on, Dexter had actually gotten a bit attached to the boy. They hardly left the house, even when the boy would. They’d always have to give some sort of excuse when the kid asked them to come with him and his friend. The kid wouldn’t really like their answer, but would accept it anyway and leave them alone. Most of this “downtime” would be spent either being angry or trying to figure out the best way to show the boy’s father exactly why screwing around with Dexter Erotoph was the worst mistake he’d ever make.
But there was no time for anger anymore, now that the boy was home. Dexter still didn’t know the boy’s real name, if he had one. The child had referred to himself as Skid on more than one occasion, but Dexter highly doubted that was his real name... again, if he even had one. And the boy’s mother wasn’t much help either - she’d only refer to him as “son”.
That was something else - Skid’s mother. Dexter’s saving grace was that the leader’s wife hadn’t been able to see them - she’d simply assumed that Skid was making things up when he’d told her about them. Under normal circumstances Dexter would’ve been offended, but now they felt nothing but relief. Her ignorance of their existence would make it easier to stay hidden.
“Hi Dexter!” came the cheerful voice. “Look at all the candy I got! Do you see how much I have??”
Dexter sighed. “That’s nice, Skid.”
A beat of silence. “Are you okay?”
How were they supposed to respond to that? Skid didn’t seem too bothered by the fact that his new friend was a ghost, but Dexter knew it’d break the kid’s heart if he found out how Dexter got to be that way. They’d deliberately neglected to tell him their story, and they weren’t going to start now.
Instead, they said, “I’m not having a good day.”
“Why?”
“You’re too young for that conversation. Just trust me. Okay?”
Skid folded his arms with a pouty look. “I still wanna know.”
“Let’s just say… don’t piss off cult leaders. Okay, kid?”
Skid huffed in childish annoyance, but didn’t question them further. “Okay.”
Dexter returned their gaze to the endless night sky. Whenever they’d stargaze, they were always overcome by the unsettling feeling that something out there was watching them…
“Do you want some candy? That usually helps me feel better when I’m sad.”
Once again, Skid’s voice caught their attention. Dexter turned their head over their shoulder to see Skid holding out a piece of candy to them. The gesture was sweet, even though Dexter couldn’t actually take him up on it.
“I’d love some, but in case you’ve forgotten, I’m dead. I can’t eat.”
“…oh. Sorry.”
As Dexter glanced out the window once more, they felt something pass through their shoulder. The sudden contact was accompanied by a very strong - and very familiar - sensation, which made them squeal loudly.
Another beat of silence. Probably with a spooked look on their face, Dexter once more glanced back at Skid, who looked surprised. The boy had his hand held out, a few inches from Dexter’s shoulder.
Had he…?
“Did I hurt you?” Skid questioned meekly.
“N-no, not at all! I’m fine. It just kind of ti-” Dexter quickly caught themselves before they spoke. That was close. They’d almost admitted something embarrassing to a kid they hardly knew.
Suddenly they shrieked again, cutting themselves off with a snort. Skid had curiously poked a finger into their ribs, once again passing right through them, and bringing about that ridiculous sensation.
Skid giggled delightedly. “You’re ticklish? I didn’t know ghosts could be ticklish!”
It seemed that even in death, Dexter couldn’t escape being tickled. It didn’t happen often in their previous life, but when it did, it was bad. They’d shriek and squeal their hearts out, and don’t even get them started on how much they’d snort. But now, even as a ghost, they were still cursed with being deathly ticklish.
Skid reached for their sides, and Dexter didn’t bother trying to stop him. As that tingly feeling took hold, it seemed like Dexter’s ebbing rage just miraculously melted away. There weren't any thoughts of revenge, no roller coasters of emotions - just laughter. Nothing but genuine, happy laughter.
After a few minutes, they sank to the floor, giggling to themselves while Skid stood above them. “I’ll have to remember that for the next time you have a bad day!”
The doorbell rang downstairs. Skid grinned. “I forgot - Pump went home to drop off his candy but he wanted to come over and play. I’ll have to tell him all about your tickle spots!”
“W-wait!” Dexter called after him as he ran downstairs. “Don’t-”
But Skid was already gone. What could Dexter do to stop him anyways? It wasn’t like they wanted to. It felt nice to not be bitter for once.
Being a ghost wasn’t great, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad anymore.
-END-
