Disclaimer: I don't own 'Brave Little Toaster' or any of it's characters… wish I did x3. Tim and Mike are mine though, so no steals! lol

Different title I know, but I thought it was the best one for this fic; much better than the old title.

Tim: oldest-7

Mike: second oldest-7

Robbie (young master): youngest-6

'I should've helped him. I should've let him hide in the closet. I shouldn't have snapped at him; he was just scared! He asked for my help and all he got were insults and the cold shoulder. Aww, I should'vehelped him!'

These thoughts, along with many other self-loathing ones, were swarming in Kirby's mind as he was propped in his dark, empty closet. He had been like this for who knows how long after discovering what happened to his friend.

It started just like any other day did for the friends in the master's home. The master, mistress, and the young master had finished breakfast; the mistress took the young master to his… school- whatever that was: the appliances had no clue- and the master had left for work.

And, just like any other day, Toaster, Lampy, Kirby, Blanky, and Radio set off doing their little chores to keep the place a little bit tidier, just as they did with the cottage. Today, Radio chose a nice, tap-dancing beat everyone could clean to. The only difference of the day so far was the fact that Kirby seemed to be a little bit grumpier than usual…

"Will you turn that racket off!?" Ah, here comes

Mr. Sunshine now.

"Jeez! What sucked up into your bag and died?" Lampy, the ever helpful one, complained.

"Yeah, we're just trying to make cleaning a little more fun." Toaster added before continuing his dusting, along side Blanky.

"Cleaning isn't supposed to be fun. It's supposed to be work."

"This is a sudden news flash from President Roosevelt himself: Agitated vacuum cleaner becomes the number one party-pooper in these United States." Great, Radio just had to have his input into this little conversation.

Luckily, all Kirby felt up to doing about that comment was give the talking nuisance box a heated glare and more grumbling before he zoomed off to vacuum the living room. Everyone else resumed their duties when he left their sight… well, all except one. Unnoticed by the rest of the appliances, a soft little blanket followed a grumpy Kirby out the room…

Kirby continued to mumble incoherent things to himself about 'mornings' and 'appliances'. It would only be a few minutes before the mistress brought the young master home from his place of learning-school-building-whatever and Kirby and his friends would have to resume their role as inanimate objects for practically the rest of the day.

He just hoped the young master wouldn't bring those two demons back with him, called Tim and Mike, like he does sometimes. Oh sure, when they were around the young master they were the best of friends and nice and junk, but when he left them for the slightest amount of time, they became little trouble-makers, always messing with the young master's stuff and- usually- breaking it. When the young one came back, Tim and Mike would make up some made-up crud ending with 'it was an accident'. Fuh, accident his rollers.

Still mumbling to himself, praying and pleading for a demon-free day, Kirby failed to see the little yellow fuzzball, slink up behind him. Blanky himself didn't really know why he left after his cranky friend, but he felt he should see what was making him so extra grumpy today.




Kirby yelled at the unsuspecting noise entering his thoughts and, in-turn, frightened the little blanket right behind him. Quickly composing himself, Kirby jerked around to face his new target for his misplaced agitation.

"What do want, ya little wimp?! Tryin' to give my warrant an early expiration date!?"

Blanky didn't react to Kirby's attitude; it was mostly taken out on him anyway.

"No. I just wanted to see if you were alright; you're grumpier than usual and I guess I'm worried about you."

"Well there's no need to worry. I'm just fine. So why don't you just get away from me!" There really was no reason to shout at Blanky, but he left that room to be by himself, not to have a little fuzzball trailing after him!

Blanky looked downcast and- what was that-hurt? Kirby couldn't tell, it passed by too quickly for him to tell as sadness overwhelmed Blanky's normally happy features. Oh, why couldn't the tiny baby have just stayed with Toaster instead? Kirby wasn't good at keeping people happy in his company like everyone else could.

"Ok just wanted to che-" A slam of a door once again interrupted Blanky's sentence.

"Robbie, will you help me with the dirty laundry for a quick moment? Tim, Mike, be careful playing ok?" you could hear the mistress calling to her son.

"Aww just what we need, the two demons breaking more of the young master's belongings!" Kirby groaned. He turned back to Blanky and was surprised a little to see fear clear across the blanket's face, but the vacuum quickly masked that with his usual cranky-ness.

"What's your problem, wimp?" He asked gruffly.

"Umm. . Kirby, c-can I come in-into the closet with y-you please? I do-don't like those t-two boys b-being here." Not only could you see his fear, but you could hear it clearly in his voice, but Kirby wasn't up for this right now; he just wanted to get to his closet and fume about what those boys'll wreak this time.

"No. Go away." and with that, Kirby zoomed into the living room closet right across from them and shut the door tightly behind him.

"But Kirby. . . "

"Go away." Kirby was very short-tempered towards the blanket right now and his last fuse was about to blow. If his target was smart, he thought, he'd better get away from the door, now. Unfortunately, Blanky couldn't catch on as well as others did when Kirby was about to blow.

"Kirby, please."

The closet door flung open wide enough to show the face of an angered vacuum as he spoke with such rage.

"What's the matter with you, huh?! Why can't you get the fact that I don't want you near me through that thick plating you call a head?! You're just a worthless little rag that no one wants around! I don't understand how the master, much less that stupid toaster, can put up with you!"

. . . Boom . . .

There was a tense silence; thankfully, Kirby knew just how to keep his voice down so none of the humans could hear him. During that whole speech, Blanky went from startled, and slowly diminished to depression and hurt. Now he was bowing his head, trying to hold back the tears that were already spilling onto the floor below him.

"Now get out of my doorway and out of my sight." Kirby practically hissed his sentence; ignoring Blanky's tears and closing his closet door-he'd slam if the humans weren't home.

Blanky stayed there motionless for at least five minutes before beginning to slink away. Footsteps halted his movement, however, and caused him to become frozen on the floor.

"Hey look, it's Robbie's stupid blanket."

"Yeah, it must want to 'play' with us again, ha ha!"

Fear gripped at Blanky's insides as he recognized Tim and Mike's voices.

Without any warning he was jerked upwards by Tim, the older of the two. Blanky could only tell it was Tim because he sounded much closer than before, his next sentence filling the little blanket with dread.

"Why don't we go play 'superhero' outside while Robbie's mom makes him help her with their yucky dirty clothes." Tim offered.

"Ok, the only thing I don'ts get is why they didn't includes this nasty, icky blanky with it."

At Mike's comment, both boys laughed and headed outside, oblivious to just how much those words hurt the fabric currently within their possession.

After they left, Kirby opened the closet door slightly 'What did he mean by 'play again'? He thought. Abruptly, Kirby shut his door.

"What am I doing?" he thought, " I mean, what could they do to a blanket anyway? Besides, after that little discussion, he probably doesn't want 'the grumpy vacuum' around him anyway. He'll be fine. Humph!" and with that, he fell asleep, trying to suppress the feeling that something bad was going to happen very soon. . .

"Mommy, mommy! Come help! Hurry!" The young master's screaming is what awoke Kirby from his slumber with a sudden jolt. Thinking he was hurt, the old vacuum quietly slipped out of his 'sanctuary' to lean against the hallway wall leading to the kitchen.

"What? What is it, honey? Are you hurt?" the mistress sounded worried at hearing her son's panicked voice, her husband's footsteps following close behind.

"If the master's home, I must've been sleeping for a long time." Kirby thought off-handedly. He continued to listen to the voices coming from the kitchen.

"No, but Blanky is!" Those words grabbed whatever attention Kirby wasn't using to hear the conversation towards every word being said; no doubt having the same effect on Toaster, whose home was the kitchen, probably using every once of calm he had to stay frozen and continue listening to the conversation.

Indeed, Toaster was trying very hard not to unfreeze and yell, 'What happened! Who hurt him! Tell me now!' Blanky and Toaster were very close to one another, practically brothers, and if Blanky was hurt, Toaster wanted to know every detail of the incident.

"When I finished helping you with the dirty clothes, I went outside to play with Tim and Mike, that meanie Tim had Blanky wrapped 'round his neck! I tolds them all those other times that Blanky waddn't meant for rough-playing-" At this, Kirby felt that same feeling from earlier, and now knew why he felt it in the first place. What other times was the young master talking about? Why didn't the little wimp tell him and the other appliances about these 'other times'? Kirby continued to listen intently.

"I tried to tell the Tim meanie to give Blanky back, but he ignorded me and went downs the slide. That's when Blanky got hurt! Blanky gots caught on something really sharp that caused a hole this big!" Curiously, Kirby turned the corner. . . and wished he hadn't.

There was Blanky, fabric torn at almost every angle the vacuum could see, along with what Kirby could only guess were the wires the blanket needed to heat up. What hurt more to look at, was the missing upper-right corner of what's supposed to be Blanky's face. Next to Blanky was Toaster, looking at Blanky with shock and such a sadness never seen before on the toaster's face. Kirby couldn't bear to look on any longer and hid behind the corner once again to listen on.

"And-and-and those wires came out of his boo-boo and-and-and. . ."

"Son, how did this crack happen on its controls?" Toaster quickly froze at the master turning his head to point out what he meant.

"Oh, when the Tim meanie got stuck, Blanky must've undid-ed itself so Tim meanie wouldn't choke, but not before Tim meanie's head fell hard on Blanky!"

At this point, Robbie- or the young master, as the appliances referred to him-was close to tears. He really loved his blanky and now it was hurt and he didn't know what to do but ask for his parent's help.

"Well," the mistress cut in, "where are 'the Tim and Mike meanies' now?"

"They ran home when they hurt Blanky. Please! Mommy, Daddy, you gots to help my Blanky! Please!" Now he was crying, something Toaster wanted to openly do very badly at the moment.

"Ok, ok honey, don't cry. Your dad and I will see what we can do. Leave Blanky here and you go get some sleep." With a kiss on the cheek, she sent him down the hallway to his room, Kirby quickly freezing until the young master's door was shut with a resounding 'click'.

"So, can you fix it, Rob?" the mistress asked of her husband, Kirby continuing to listen.

"I'm not sure, Kris." Master answered, "I mean, sure, I can sew it back up as long as I have another patch of fabric, but the heating system looks totally shot. It wouldn't be safe to leave the remaining wires in it. If any of them cross-wire with each other, it could start a fire. I can't re-glue the pieces to the controls, either. They're too small and not all of them are here anyway."

Kris looked down sadly at the little cloth and spoke quietly, "Should we take the main controls off, then?" Kirby certainly hoped not; if the master did, he'd be beheading a close friend of the rest of the appliances within the household.

"No," the master's voice cut through Kirby's thoughts like butter, "it's better if Robbie thinks there wasn't much damage to his blanket. I'll patch him up first thing in the morning, right before I head to work. For now, let's just go to bed. "

"Ooo! I swear, in the morning I'm gonna call both of those little brat's parents and give them a piece of my mind. This wouldn't be the first time they've broken something of Robbie's. I should've told him that they weren't allowed around the house anymore!" With a grunt, she stormed off to bed, the master following shortly after his wife.

When Kirby was sure his owner's were in their room, he zoomed into the kitchen and jumped onto a stool to be above eye level of the counter. Blanky looked even worse up close. Toaster's face showed devastation and sorrow.

"Blanky?" he whispered so softly Kirby almost didn't hear him, "Blanky? Can you hear me? Blanky?"

Kirby choose to remain silent as Toaster continued his futile attempts at waking his 'brother'. It was at that moment Lampy and Radio came in with sad faces as well; apparently, they also over-heard the conversation. Kirby hopped onto the counter so Lampy and Radio could come up as well to check on their fellow appliance's current state.

"Boy, those kids really messed him up." Lampy was soon quieted by the murderous gaze Kirby sent him; it clearly spoke 'Shut. Up.'

"In all my years of being a war veteran, I've never seen anything like this." Of coarse no one believed he was part of any war, but choose to stay quiet and look over their wounded friend. Taking in a huge breath, Toaster spoke in the calmest voice he could muster,

"Come on guys, let's go to sleep. The master said he would fix Blanky in the morning, so we'll just have to wait until then. " Without another word, Lampy, Radio, and Kirby hopped quietly down to the floor and left the kitchen. While Lampy and Radio went back to their respective spots in the living room, Kirby stayed behind in the hallway for only a moment, but hung around long enough to catch the sound of Toaster's soft sobs; he quickly made his way back to his closet.

This is how Kirby got to where he is now. He didn't have the heart-. . . the guts to tell them what happened between him and Blanky. Although, it wasn't even any of their business, anyway, was it? With all these thoughts racing through his brain, he barely registered the fact that his eyelids were getting heavier and with a final yawn, went into a restless sleep.


Again jolted from his sleep, Kirby opened his eyes and looked around in his dark 'sanctuary'. From what little light flooded through the bottom crack of his door, he guessed it was morning; his wake-up call must've been the master leaving for work.

'Wait a minute!'

Kirby sped out of his closet (after opening the door, duh!) and down the hall towards the kitchen, only to find a Toaster-less and Blanky-less room. Heading out of the kitchen to the living room, he noticed Lampy and Radio watching TV, though from the looks on their faces, it looked like their minds were far from what was on.

"So, how's he look?" Kirby mumbled to them as a morning greeting.

"Which one," Radio answered, "Toaster or Blanky?"

"Yeah, Blanky hasn't woken up yet-if he ever does," at this Radio bonked Lampy on the head with his antenna and continued on with what the 'bright' lamp was saying, "Toaster hasn't left his side since the master got done patching and de-wiring him three hours ago."

"Three hours?" Kirby questioned in grumpy shock, something only he could pull off.

"Well," said Lampy, "it was a pretty big rip, and master got up really early to fix him up before having to go to work."

"Huh," was the vacuum's only reply.

. . . . . . . . . .

"So, uh, where they at now?"

"In the young master's bedroom. The master put Blanky there when he was done and got ready for work. We snuck in and visited while the master took a- took a- what was it again? A shower? Or a bath? Both? Neither?" Lampy got confused.

Not bothering with the two appliances on the couch or their current topic change, Kirby made his way to Robbie's bedroom. 'What if Blanky wakes up? What will I say? He might not listen to me at all after everything I've said to him . . . I'd deserve it, though.'

Stopping any further thoughts from entering his weary brain, he entered the young master's bedroom. There was Toaster, sitting (it looked like it to Kirby) next to Blanky, absent-mindedly patting the blanket's head, though being careful of the missing upper right side.

"Toaster?" Toaster jolted up and around in a second, looking as if his worst fears were right behind him, before realizing who it was and calming down.

"Oh, Kirby, it's only you. Hey, what are you doing here?" Toaster asked; he sounded so tired.

"Just came to see how he's doing." was all Kirby offered as a reply.

"Still hasn't woken up yet" A moment of silence, then. "What if he never does, Kirby? What if Lampy was right when he said 'if he ever wakes up'?" Kirby looked confused until Toaster explained,

"He said it while he and Radio were visiting. I'm guessing he told you the same thing?"

"Yeah." Now more than ever, Kirby wanted to hit that clueless lamp occupying a spot on the couch in the living room.

"I know I shouldn't say or even think like this, but it gets harder not to after every passing minute he stays this way."

It was quiet for a minute or two before Toaster became very surprised at the feel of Kirby's cord wrapping around his chrome, as if the grumpy appliance was hugging him, which is what he actually was doing.

"Don't worry yourself with thoughts like that. I may call Blanket a wimp sometimes, but he's stronger than I give him credit for. He'll make it through this, just watch."

Kirby looked at the kitchen appliance's shocked face for a second before becoming irritated at the fact that Toaster was staring at him.

"What?" Kirby asked grumpily. Toaster formed a small smile, before chuckling a bit and answering.

"There you are. For a minute there, I thought Lampy and Radio switched the real Kirby with a fake one that was nice."

"Hey!" Kirby spoke agitatedly, as Toaster laughed softly, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Toaster replied honestly, "You just never gave off a supporting side of yourself to anyone before, so I was a bit surprised, that's all."


They fell into another silence for a minute before Kirby finally spit out the question he wanted to ask.

"Uhh, Toaster?"

"Yeah, Kirby?"

"Would you mind giving me and the blanket a minute? I. . . kinda need to. . ." Kirby was still having a tough time forming the words into his mouth. Toaster gave another small smile.

"Sure, take all the time you need."

". . . Thanks." And with that, Toaster quietly left the room, but stayed close by; he didn't mean to be within earshot of Kirby's speech, he just couldn't be too far away from Blanky right now.

When Kirby was sure he and Blanky were alone, he took a few long breathes and turned to look down at the sleeping appliance.

"Blanket?" He hoped for a response, but didn't expect one. He didn't get what he hoped for.

"Blanket, I. . . I know you can't hear me, but there's something I need to tell ya." He paused, trying to stay calm enough to continue; after putting barriers all around his mind, it was hard to just try and break them all down with a few words.

"The stuff I said to ya. . . about being a worthless old rag. . . they. . they weren't true. I was just angry and grumpy and. . ." Kirby felt something that he couldn't remember feeling before- the sensation of tears welling up in his eyes. He forced himself to hold them back as he continued.

"If I'd have known what those little demons were going to do I-I-I would 'a. . . ugh! Why didn't you tell any of us about these 'other times' with those two? You could'a said something and we would've hidden you or-or I even would'a. . ." Kirby grunted as he felt the first tear leave his eye to trail down his chrome face, but still tried his hardest to hold in the rest.

"Nothin' they said about you was true either. You're not dirty or-or nasty or . . . anything like that. You're great an-and nice and. . ." Kirby knew his tears were cascading down his face by the time he got near the end of his sentence, but spoke on.

"I'm sorry, I-I'm-I'm just really sorry!" He was sobbing now, but made it muffled by burying what he could of his face into the slumbering blanket, whispering little things that sounded vaguely like 'I promise to be nicer to you if you just wake up!' and 'You don't have to forgive me, just open your eyes and wake up!'.

Toaster couldn't believe what all he heard. He wanted to go in ask what exactly happened the two household appliances, but decided against it when the sound of muffled sobs reached his non-existent ears. Was Kirby actually crying? All thoughts stopped at the sound of one small voice.


It was barely above a whisper, but Kirby heard it all the same. With a quickness he didn't know he possessed, Kirby lifted his face from where it rested to look at the now one-eyed blanket's face, his eye looking at him lazily.

"Blanket? Blanket, are you ok?" Kirby asked with worry laced in his voice.

"What happened?" was all Blanky had to offer, "the last thing I remember, Tim had me around his neck, went down something-a-a slide. Yeah, it was a slide. Then. . . I felt pain- a lot of it. Half my body stayed somewhere it wasn't supposed to while the other half kept going down, and I. . . and I thought 'I must be stuck'. . . so . . . so I undid myself from his neck then. . . then. . . everything went black."

Kirby was silent, amazed at how Blanky could think back on everything that happened to him so quickly after waking up.

"Why does my body feel so heavy? It never did before. And why can't I see anything in my right eye?"

The vacuum remained quiet; he didn't want to break the bad news to Blanky and see him upset. Thankfully, Toaster chose to come in at that time. Standing at the doorway for only a second before dashing towards Blanky and putting him in a loving hug, tears of happiness falling down Toaster's chrome.

"Oh. I'm so happy you're awake! Don't you ever scare me like that again, you hear me! I thought. . . I thought I was going to lose a brother. I. . . I thought you'd ne-never wake u-up!" Toaster cried.

"Hey what's the matt- Hey Blanky you're awake! Radio! Get in here! Blanky's awake! He's alive!"

Soon Radio was in the room along side an excited Lampy and looked about as happy as one could when they were face-less.

"Hey there little trooper. How ya feelin'?"

"Not too good. I still don't get why my fabric feels so heavy, or why I can't see through my right eye. I asked Kirby, but he wouldn't say anything."

At this, everyone looked down. Kirby, realizing he still had some tears on his face, wiped them off quickly with his plug and hung around the back of the group, not wanting to see the sadness on the blanket's face when he was told the news of how damaged he was.

". . . When you got stuck on the slide, it ripped a whole in your fabric and. . . completely messed up your heating wires. I'm sorry Blanky, the master couldn't fix them; he could only patch you up with a piece of blue cloth from one of his favorite shirts."

For a second, Blanky looked about ready to cry. Why wouldn't he though, he was just told that he could no longer perform his function; he could cover people, but he couldn't heat them up as fast as he made to. But he remembered what Toaster also said-

'…patch you up with a piece of blue cloth from one of his favorite shirts.' The fact that the master ruined one of his best shirts for him, made Blanky feel happy and important.

Taking in a shaky breath, Blanky asked the other question on his mind, though somewhat fearing the answer.

"Ok. So what's wrong with my right eye?"

"What right eye-hmph!" Radio's snooze button was pushed harshly as Lampy jumped on top, instantly silencing the loudmouth. . .but a second too late.

"What?!" Now Blanky was panicked. What did Radio mean 'What right eye'? What happened?

"Idiot." Kirby mumbled to the radio; now looking a little ashamed of himself.

"Calm down, Blanky, calm down." Toaster said softly, patting Blanky on the head, causing the blanket to calm down almost instantly.

"Your eye. . . well, when you unraveled yourself from Tim's neck, his head had already been jerked back by the sudden stop and. . . crashed into the upper-right corner of your face and smashed it. . . There were too many small or missing pieces. I'm. . . I'm sorry, but the master couldn't fix that either." Toaster's face fell as tears started in Blanky's only eye. Silently, Toaster wrapped his 'hands' around Blanky as he started to cry, Lampy, Radio, and surprisingly, Kirby, soon joining in the hug using their cords.

After five minutes of quiet sobbing, Toaster remembered a piece of Kirby's earlier one-sided conversation.

"Blanky, why didn't you tell us about what those boys were doing? Why didn't you tell me? I- we could've helped you."

"Yeah," Lampy added, "why all the secrecy and all."

Blanky was silent for a few moments more before sniffling and responding, "I didn't want you guys to worry about me."

Not worry about you. Why, look at yourself. You look like Mrs. Roosevelt when she hasn't had her morning coffee or shower yet and you're telling us you didn't want to worry anyone?"

"I'm sorry." Was all the groggy blanket could spill out of his mouth.

"Well, he's ok now, and that's all that matters. Let's just let him get his rest. We'll visit him later on in the day." Man, Kirby was on a surprising record today! Lampy had his jaw hanging open; Radio's antenna looked like it had snapped off, it was falling to the ground so fast; Toaster only looked mildly surprised- Kirby already shocked him with the hug today, his words only added to the once-dulled shock from earlier; Blanky was the most shocked. Since when did Kirby care? Although, with that speech he overheard just a minute ago had him thinking more and more.

Kirby got irritated, once again, from the stares he was receiving.

"What? Jeez, you try to be nice and this is what you get." Laughter erupted at this comment. There was their Kirby, being his 'happy' self once again.

Through the laughter, a yawn escaped Blanky as his eye grew heavy, all the recent events finally catching up with him.

"C'mon guys. Kirby's right; let's let Blanky get some sleep. He's been through a lot." Toaster spoke quietly, and with a last pat, he, as well as all of the other appliances, left Blanky to his dreams.

It's been two days after Blanky found out his function no longer worked and everyone was heading off to bed. Blanky was still trying to get used to his body being heavier to move around- and only being able to see the left side of everything, unless he turned his head- but insisted that he try to get used to the new weight. What shocked him though, was whenever he was having too much trouble moving from one place to another, Kirby would offer him a ride on top of his head to where he needed to be. He still hadn't told anyone that he actually woken up sooner than they thought. All he could remember was that by the time reality finally hit him, he could hear Kirby talking about 'not hearing him' and listened to what the vacuum had to speak about. To say that he was surprised about all Kirby said and did would be the understatement of the century. Kirby, the appliance who chose to keep everyone away emotionally, crying into his fabric, actually made Blanky happy. It meant that Kirby really did care about him and that he didn't mean what he said to Blanky the day he was. . . de-functioned.

Toaster had hung out with Blanky almost constantly, even sneaking into the young master's room and snuggling up next to him; he'd always wake up before Robbie because Radio would stir him up with music or a broadcast, but kept it soft enough so the young master wouldn't hear it and wake up.

It was Friday now and Robbie was staying over at Michael's house- a really nice boy and Robbie's best friend, according to the mistress. Usually, Blanky would've taken this opportunity to sleep with Toaster in the kitchen, but tonight. . .

"Toaster?" Blanky asked innocently, perched on the stool with Kirby's help; he climbed up Kirby's pole and set himself there. The master and mistress were already asleep, something about a 'busy weekend' and having to wake up early.

"Yeah Blanky? What do you need?"

"Umm, if it's alright with you and Kirby, could I stay with him tonight?" This question surprised the lamp and radio; Kirby. . .well, Kirby was shocked, to say the least. Why would Blanky want to bunk with a grumpy old vacuum cleaner?

"Well, it's ok with me. What about you, Kirby?" Toaster looked at him expectedly for his answer.

"Uhh, sure, I guess." Blanky formed a big smile at this and gave a little 'yay'. Carefully making his way down the stool, the blanket situated himself on top of Kirby's head. With a final goodnight to everyone, the two appliances made their way to the closet.

Opening the door and zooming his way in, Kirby used his cord to crack the door instead of closing it, so some of the hallway light could shine in; Kirby knew Blanky wasn't a fan of the dark, and at the same time, kept up with his personal promise to be nicer to the little blanket, now quietly yawning while remaining on Kirby's head.

They were silent for a while, until Kirby finally asked what he'd wanted to ask since Blanky made the decision to bunk with him tonight.

"So. . .why'd you want to sleep in here tonight?" He asked, trying to look over his forehead at the little fabric lying upon his noggin. Blanky gazed down at Kirby's upside-down face and answered simply,

"Because I felt like it."

". . Oh. . ." With that, the vacuum closed his eyes, content with the answer given.

"…And to tell you that I forgive you." Kirby's eyes shot open wide at this and he looked up at Blanky, surprised.

"You forgive me… what are yo-" he stopped as his little heart filled chat suddenly popped up into his brain. With a light blush, he spoke,

"Oh you umm, you heard that?"

"Well, I woke up to saying something about me not hearing you and it went on from there. When you started crying, I had to say something; I didn't want you to keep on being sad."

With his blush a little deeper, Kirby realized something.

"Wait a minute. If you woke up that early, why didn't you say anything to stop my blubbering?!" Kirby got a bit miffed near the end of his sentence. How could Blanky let him say all that. . . that mushy stuff when anyone could have overheard it?!

"Because it sounded like you were having a hard time saying what you wanted to and I didn't want to make it any harder by talking. Plus, I wanted to hear your apology; it sounded nice and. . . honest. Did you really think what those guys said about me wasn't true?" Blanky voiced his question with an unsure tone, fearing the vacuum's answer a teeny bit.

"… Yeah, I did. They got a brain the size of my rollers, anyway; maybe even tinier." At Kirby's comment, Blanky laughed, causing a small smile to form on the vacuum's face.

"Goodnight, Blanky." Kirby said with a yawn, for once using Blanky's short name.

"Night. And Kirby, thanks."

"… Anytime." And with that, the two friends fell asleep.

A/N: Well there you go. I owe my bravery for putting my 1st fanfic up to AketA from deviantart & from here so thnx AketA! I'm planning on typing another blt fanfic but it'll take a long while. I'll try to keep the courage up & post some different fanfics though & even thinking of adopting one from somebody who has quit working on it, not sure. Type to ya later and please NO FLAMES!