***Writing oneshots for a little instant gratification? Yes, please. I put so much work into my books, but oneshots are where I don't have to meet anyone's expectations. It's invigorating.

This one is based on the following wonderful (yeah, right) prompt my grandmother told me about:

Okay, but are you actually scared yet-

This will be part of a two-shot, and it takes place several years in the future from S13. Let's just say Jay and Nya are married at this time and in their mid-twenties.***

***(Jay's POV)***

I readjust my pillow over my head, stifling a groan. I try to cuddle under the blankets further to escape that awful noise coming from...somewhere. I don't know what it is, and I don't care.

Nya rolls over next to me, obviously sensing my change in positions. She snuggles against my bare chest in her half-asleep state, mumbling something indecipherable under her breath.

I sigh miserably. I can't move anymore - I'll wake her up. I'm stuck lying on my side, pillow tucked oddly over my head, resting my hand on the hip of her fleece pajama shirt.

"How can you sleep through that sound?" I hiss. "I know you were out the past two days on a mission, but you're usually a little more mindful than this." 

"Hmm?" she mumbles, warm and comfortable in her dream world.

"I - " I stop myself with a sigh, running a hand over her dark locks to pull them from her face. Nya's exhausted from her mission. She needs rest.

"Nothing," I whisper. "Go back to sleep, honey." I press my hand against the back of her head, focusing on the pleasure of her breathing against my chest. At least it gives me something to dwell on other than that uber-annoying, muffled noise.

Eventually, the combination of the perpetually irritating sound and Nya's rhythmic breaths lull me to sleep. I let my heavy eyes close, resting my chin against Nya's limp shoulder and allowing my mind to drift.

That's when my mind snaps back to alertness. It dawns on me that the pitch of that muffled noise...

Makes it sound like a baby's voice?

I stifle an angry breath. I must've left the TV on while I was waiting for Nya to get back from her mission. We decided we'd spend the weekend at my dad's mansion, just the two of us. However, I got bored while I was hanging around here waiting for her to get back, and I like my cartoons. Boredom and Powerpuff Girls sounded like a match made in heaven at the time.

Now, it just sounds like a very annoying baby.

A very annoying, very persistent baby. The sound has not stopped.

I gently extract myself from Nya's grasp, reaching for the lamp on the bedside table. It's a little difficult to navigate my dad's house in the dark.

I find the lamp switch and flip it.

Nothing.

"Huh," I mutter, flipping the switch the other way. Nope - nothing happens.

"Must've come unplugged," I realize. I roll out of bed, planting my feet on the ground and stumbling toward the light fixture. I search for its cord in the dark, feeling the chill of the room kiss my bare skin and create gooseflesh.

"Jay?" Nya mumbles.

"Everything's fine," I reassure her, locating the cord to the lamp. I trace it to the wall...where it's plugged in.

The lamp should've turned on, unless there was a...

Power outage?

But...the TV...it couldn't still be on with a power outage. Maybe a breaker flipped.

"Jay, can you get up with the baby?" she murmurs.

I spark the lamp, and it surges to life, illuminating the room.

I rise, chuckle softly, and stroke my hand over her hair. "I'll take care of the baby, Nya." Not that we have one. "Go to sleep. You clearly could use some."

A garbled sound is my only response.

I slip on my blue bathrobe to stave off the cold, then pad toward our door, opening it quietly so as not to disturb Nya. I poke my head into the darkness, hearing the noise coming from my left.

That's...the opposite direction of the room where I was watching television earlier.

And why does the baby's chatter suddenly sound like laughter?

As a shiver races its way down my spine, I feel along the wall outside our bedroom for the overhead light switch. As soon as I touch it, I push the fob upward, and the hallway is filled with bright light.

The baby's laughter suddenly stops.

"That's...slightly terrifying," I laugh nervously to myself. "I've never been afraid of babies before, but this might just change things."

Sparing one last glance at Nya's sleeping form, I head in the direction of the former laughter. I mean, a baby laughing can't mean anything bad, right? Maybe the house next door accidentally left their child at my dad's place for the night. Maybe they stashed their baby here because they thought to themselves, "Oh, we need to clean baby's room", but they forgot to pick back up their little guy when they were done.

Yeah, because that makes sense.

One door stands slightly ajar, and I cautiously approach it.

That's when I hear a wail from inside - a terrified wail.

Something protective in me rises above fear, and I form my lightning element in one hand. With the other, I swiftly reach past the opened door and flip on the lights.

The room illuminates immediately, and I shove my way inside, ready to fight.

All I hear are the continued frightened cries of a baby.

My eyes widen when I realize there's a bassinet in the corner. And...why is this room decorated in pastel blue and yellow?

I swallow hard. "I must be in someone else's house. Or I'm dreaming. Hey, maybe I'm dreaming! I'm definitely dreaming." I shudder, trying to relieve the tight feeling in my stomach.

The baby's sobs continue, and my heart pangs. Even if this is a dream, I can't stand to hear a baby crying.

I walk toward the bassinet, and for some reason, my heart thumps wildly in my chest. I'm kind of scared of what I'll find in there. What if it's a baby bomb - maybe a creepy doll disguised as a human that's set to blow in fifteen seconds?

Nah. That's crazy. I'm just dreaming, so everything's okay.

I steady myself, then look over the edge of the bassinet.

To my surprise - and relief - there's a normal baby inside, dressed in a pale blue fleece. He doesn't look all that old. I'm not a good judge of baby ages, but he's maybe four months? Five? Somewhere in that range?

He continues to shriek, horrified of some unseen danger. I bite my lip, simultaneously concerned and terrified. I reach out my hands to pick him up before abruptly stopping myself.

It just seems kind of wrong to pick him up. I mean, I may be dreaming, but I don't even know whose kid this is in my dream. What if his dream parents freak out because a strange man is comforting their child?

I shake off the notion, reaching out to hold the child. Even dream babies don't deserve to be frightened like this.

"Hey, little guy," I say softly, pulling his squirming body toward myself. "Don't be scared. I've got you."

I don't even know how to hold a baby, but I rest him against my chest, supporting his bottom and rubbing his little back. He'd better not fill up his dream diaper while I've got my hand down there.

His chubby hands clutch my robe as he continues to sob. Maybe the little guy had a bad dream.

"It's okay," I comfort him, keeping my tone low and soothing. "This is just a dream, which means you, dream baby, are in no danger."

He tightens his grip on my robe, his wails not diminishing.

"Shh." I nestle him against my chest, pulling one side of my robe around to help cover him. "Everything's okay. I promise you're safe with me. I know everything seems scary right now, but I won't let anything bad happen to you. Say, where are your dream parents? They aren't going to be happy I'm up with you."

I continue to ramble on in reassuring tones, and his cries begin to quiet. He hiccups softly instead.

"There you go," I smile. "All better, huh? There's nothing to be scared of...well, besides the fact that this dream has gone on way too long. Say, what were you laughing at before I turned on the lights? That's a little creepy, you know. Are you just a creepy baby?" I look down at his chubby, reddened face, and he gazes at me with slightly disturbed brown eyes.

I frown. "You know, you look kind of like Nya. You have her eyes - the shape, the dark color. Not to mention your hair."

That's when it hits me. I'm not dreaming about any baby - I'm dreaming about my baby.

"Oh my gosh," I gasp. "I - I am officially weirded out. Somehow, my brain came up with a child for Nya and me to have, and you're him, and - oh my gosh. You laugh like me, and you look like her!" I shake my head. "I need to wake up."

I gingerly carry the baby back over to his bassinet, laying him down inside. His bottom lip trembles, and he reaches up his arms for me.

"Dream baby, you are low-key freaking me out," I apologize. "Sorry, bud, but I'm not picking you back up."

He lets out a pleading cry, and I give him a sympathetic look. "Little dude, I can't pick you up. I need to snap out of this crazy dream. You're not real!"

He holds out his arms for me beggingly, as though he's horrified of being left in here alone. His cries heighten in pitch and volume.

"Baby, I - oh, fine." I pick him back up, this time cradling him in my arms. His cries begin to subside when he realizes I'm not leaving him.

"Maybe I should hand you off to dream Nya, huh?" I suggest, looking down into his distressed little face. "She probably knows more about this crazy life I've dreamed up than I do." I run my index finger over his pudgy cheek.

He whimpers, and my heart constricts.

"Aww," I whisper. "Don't be scared. I'm taking you to your dream mama. She'll know what to do with you." I blow a raspberry at him, trying to distract him from his fears.

His eyes are drawn to the movement of my face, so I do it again. And again. And again. It's amazing what a person will do to cheer up a fussy baby, I guess.

Eventually, his face breaks out in a smile, and he releases another high-pitched baby laugh. I grin, too, tapping his tummy with my fingers and crossing my eyes.

He laughs louder, and I swell with pride and glee.

"Guess I'm funny enough to make scared babies feel happy again, huh?" I grin.

That's when I hear a distinctive click.

I recognize it as the sound of a cocking pistol.

"Put the baby down," warns Nya's low voice.

Frowning, I look up to see her standing in the doorway, clothed only in her loose fleece pajama tunic. Her eyes are hard.

"Nya?" I gape. "What - oh my gosh. Put that thing down!" Even if I'm only dreaming, I don't want to die in my dream! Why can't she just have her dream elemental power instead of a gun?!

She shakes her head. "Set the baby down next to you. I don't know who the heck you are, but that's my baby."

The baby whines when he notices the tension between us, and I shush him gently, never taking my eyes from Nya. "I'm Jay. Look, I know this is some crazy dream, but I really don't want to die right now, okay? Everything started out creepy, and then I actually started enjoying this dream, and then you showed up with a gun. That's all I know." I carefully lift the baby out of my arms and set him in his bassinet.

"You are not Jay," she says adamantly, gun trained on my chest. "Step back from the child, please."

I slowly raise my hands in the air, doing as she says. In response, the baby begins to cry again.

"I am Jay," I reassure her. "This is just a really bad dream, and my dream version of you doesn't recognize me. I can assure you, though, that I am Jay."

Her mouth turns down in the only indication that her world is crumbling. "This isn't a dream, you psychopath. Now you're going to stand right there, not moving a muscle, while I call the police. Understood?"

"Nya, this is a dream. You're my mind's projection, and for some reason, my brain has decided that you're not going to recognize me in dream form. Rest assured, I'm not some strange psychopath here to steal our dream baby."

She shakes her head. "This isn't your dream, which means you are a psychopath for suggesting that. You're certainly not Jay."

"And how do you figure that?" I ask cautiously. "If this weren't my dream, you'd be using your elemental power on me instead of a gun, and there would be no baby, and - "

She advances on me, stopping me from finishing my reasoning.

"Jay died over a month ago," she hisses, drawing her phone out of her pocket.

***So that happened-***