Overridden: A Googleplier X Child! Reader X Bingsepticeye (Complete)

Chapter Nine

(Y/N) sat on Google's shoulders, him being unwilling to hold their hand, and hold the basket. He kept his back straight, facing forward, scowling every time (Y/N)'s grip on his hair would tighten to an uncomfortable point. The customer's in the store would stare sometimes, stopping their shopping for produce, and other food items, quickly looking away when Google gave them an icy glare. (Y/N), for the most part, was too busy keeping themselves balanced to notice others, making sure they didn't hurt Google too much. The last thing they wanted was for Google to get mad at them, and leave them stranded in the middle of the store. (Y/N) didn't know if they would be able to hold it in if he did that.
   The nice thing to (Y/N) right now was Google's hair. It was silky, soft, and smooth. He obviously took care of it, compared to their hair, which always seemed oily, and full of tangles on a windy day. They reached up, lightly fingering a piece of hair, before quickly dropping their hand back to Google's head. They were dirty, they knew that. They felt it, and smelled it. New clothes and a bath were in order, much like Google said. (Y/N) ran their fingers through his hair gently, smiling softly at the soft, and cool texture. Google twitched lightly, but didn't object, or move to stop them. With a small, relaxing sigh, (Y/N) lifted the hair up, playing with it gently, making small, messy braids that would unwind upon being let go.
   "Alright. Clothes," Google stepped into the child's section, slowing his step to browse. He fingered a brightly colored garment. "It is going to be warmer soon. You should get some shorts, and light shirts."
   (Y/N) shrugged lightly, completely invested in playing with Google's hair. He wrinkled his nose distastefully, then sighed, and moved to the pants section. He slowly moved around the rack, going through memory of (Y/N) size. They were fairly small for their age, short, and a little skinny, which would make picking out clothing a little harder. He grabbed a few pairs of some shorts, one denim, the other's bright colors. He moved to the shirts, picking out some brightly colored tanks, some shirts with cute little logos on the front, and a jacket, just in case. All the while, (Y/N) continued to play with his hair, humming softly to them self. Google glanced down to (Y/N)'s feet, and sighed. Tattered, and dirty sneakers. Of course. 
   He strode out of the area, Mom's with their own kids staring at him with a small smile. To him, he looked like a new Father, either having gotten the child from some sort of divorce, or adopted the child. He was so lost, and seemed to challenge anyone who looked at him with a silent glare, as if to say "Try me." They've seen it before.
   After entering the shoe department, he quickly grabbed another pair of sneakers, then a pair of scandals. He stopped for a moment. Underwear and socks. He cursed himself, quickly moving to another section. Is this what shopping for clothing was? Moving from one area to the next? How annoying, and exhausting. After grabbing everything else needed, he checked out his things, all the while glaring at the poor cashier who didn't say a word, quickly ringing the items up just to make him leave. Google grabbed the things, then strode out, digging into his pocket for his keys. After a second of struggling, he tugged them out, and unlocked his car.
   He placed the plastic bags in the back, then lifted (Y/N) from his shoulders, catching a small, quiet sound of protest. He raised a brow, but set them in the front seat without a word. He shut the black door, then twirled his keys around his finger, and slipped into his seat. And without a sound, he pulled out of the parking lot, and started making his way home.
   (Y/N) watched him, frowning lightly. They just wanted to play with his hair some more. It was so soft, and sleek. Their hair probably used to be that soft, but they wouldn't remember. Maybe after a bath, their hair would, but they didn't count on it. They looked down at their lap, holding their hands together, biting their lip. Why didn't Google like them? He showed them what happened, so... shouldn't he care? Even just a little? They were just a waste of time, it seemed. (Y/N) sniffed softly, biting back the tears that pricked at the corners of their beautiful eyes. Why didn't anyone like them? They couldn't figure that out. It ate at them at night, made it hard to sleep. Parents are supposed to love their kids, right? So... what happened?
   "G-Google," they choked out, catching his attention. "I-I don't know why you don't like me... and I d-don't need to know, but if y-you don't... then why did you take me home with you...? I... I really want to know."
   Google glanced over at them, eyes wide, then quickly looked away, seeing their hunched shoulders, pale face, and shaking hands. He remained silent, but took a hand off the steering wheel, placing it on their shoulder. He felt them wince, and tense, waiting until they slowly relax before lightly brushing his thumb back and forth. He didn't know what to say, really. Did he hate them? He was sure he made it seem so, but was that really what he wanted to get across? He tensed when (Y/N) spun in their seat, hugging his arm, sobbing softly.
   "I'm so s-sorry," they cried out, tears and mucus sliding down their face. "I'm so sorry I make you hate me! I'm sorry!"
   Google pressed the gas down in panic, eyes wide, head spinning. He rushed home, listening to their sobs, and pleading screams, completely tense. He didn't move his arm, didn't move any part of his body except his driving arm when needed, zooming through red lights, almost making them crash multiple times. What was he supposed to do? His mind frantically searched for ways to comfort a crying child in the car, and each option was different than the other. He didn't know what to do with all of this information. He almost shut himself down in panic, but didn't. He was driving. He would be damaged if they crashed, (Y/N) would most likely die on impact, at the speed they were going.
   Eventually, he pulled up to Bing's house, and he stopped the car, throwing his door open, yanking his arm out of (Y/N)'s grip. He went around, grabbing (Y/N) from the passenger side door, carrying the screaming child up to the door. They didn't seem so apologetic now, and Google had a feeling that they kept scaring them self into panic, with their screaming, and sobbing, and breath hitching in their throat.
   Bing sprinted out of his room, hearing (Y/N). "What happened?"
   Google gave him a panicked look, holding them close. "I-I don't know...! They just... started to apologize, then started crying and screaming that they were sorry!"
   Bing stepped forward to take (Y/N) from Google, but he took a step back, turning his body away from Google. Bing stared at him in bewilderment. "Google, they need to calm down. Please."
   He shook his head, grip tightening on (Y/N). "No, you don't understand-!"
   "You're choking them, Google," Bing leaped forward, yanking Google's arm away from the suffocating child's back, which was pressing itself into Google's chest, and squeezing the air out of their small lungs. They went back to crying between large breaths of air, turning to reach for Bing. He took them in his arms, rubbing their back, shushing them gently. "He didn't mean it, dearest (Y/N). He didn't mean it."
   Google watched them interact in exasperation, running a nervous hand through his hair. "I... I just wanted to make them better..."
   Bing shot them a look, asking for him to be quiet, before going back to (Y/N), whispering reassuring things to calm them. He watched as they slowly stopped crying, blubbering quietly, roughly wiping their eyes. They leaned against his shoulder, sucking on their knuckle, watching Google through half lidded, and still tearful eyes. Google watched back, body tense, reaching to spring forward to help if he could, but it looked like Bing could take care of this.
   He leaned back against the back of the couch, suddenly tired. He couldn't help them when they needed him most... How... How utterly disgusting.