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lucyhblack · 1 year ago

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Summary: Dream is sick and his lovers take care of him (with the exception of one).

That's not the title I wanted to give... but unfortunately I couldn't think of anything better... T_T

This takes place in the wonderful Dragon Balance AU by @paintedkinzy-88 (if you don't know it I highly recommend reading it now!) and some time later, when everyone has been in a relationship for some time (but before Ccino joins the poly ).

The text between "" in XChara and Cross' conversation is a mental conversation, Dream can't hear them, but he knows that XChara is present at the moment.

XChara doesn't have any romantic feelings for Dream, he's there to support Cross and worried about Dream because he's important to Cross/and a good friend at that point.

Hope you like it!

Killer could hear the sound of the frying pan hitting the stove, as well as the clanking of dishes, the rustling of cutlery, and the small argument that was about to break out, before he even turned the corner. He smiled amusedly, already thinking about how to inflame the small argument into a fight of epic proportions!

Turning the corner he entered the kitchen to the sight of his lovers (his family) preparing for breakfast.

Cross pushed Dust's head, who pushed the monochromatic skeleton's head in return, both holding a glass and a cup respectively in their free hands. Horror had his back turned, ignoring them in favor of the pancakes he was preparing on the stove.

Killer opened his mouth, the words (like liquid fuel about to be thrown onto a fire) already on the tip of his tongue, when he noticed the two empty chairs.

Nightmare had gone to “take care of some business” yesterday, so it was to be expected that he wouldn’t be at the table, but the other empty chair was new.

-Where's Sunshine? – he asked, looking at the second empty seat as if it were going to answer him.

Dream was an early bird, not by choice, but by habit, and since he had moved to the castle, he had ALWAYS arrived before Killer at breakfast.

-His name is Dream. – Cross replied grumpily, moving away from Dust.

Killer (and Dust) made a sound of contempt at Cross' reprimand.

Turning around he raised an eyebrow at the ex-guard who after a little staring contest averted his lights to the empty chair and frowned.

Seeing that Cross was going to take over his role of threatening the chair for answers, he turned to Dust (who honestly wasn't much better at giving answers than a chair). As expected Dust just shrugged his shoulders without revealing anything.

Killer then turned to Horror, his last hope. The big guy was always the first person to enter the kitchen, maybe he knew where Dream was.

Horror flipped the pancake before placing it among the pile of others and poured more batter into the frying pan, only then spoke.

-He hasn't come down yet. – he then turned his skull so that his red eye was fixed on Killer. – I'm almost done. Go call him.

-I can...

-I go...

-Yes sir, captain!

While Cross and Dust glared at each other after having spoken at the same time, Killer quickly turned around and took a shortcut to Dream's room. The two could even try to follow him, but whoever starts first has the advantage.

He opened the door and hummed with all the sadistic joy he possessed in his twisted soul.

-Time to rise and shine!!!

Dream didn't like sleeping with the curtains closed (he didn't like not knowing when the day dawned, he found it disorienting, or so he said. For Killer he was just afraid of the dark) so his curtains were a thin thing that were rarely closed , so the room was quite bright (as much as Nightmare's dark world allowed) and he could see relatively easily.

A startled noise came from the bed, and the lump in the center thrashed like a drowning man trying to find the surface (if he hadn't slept with 2 duvets, a baby blanket, various cushions, pillows, and stuffed animals, maybe it wouldn't have been so difficult to find your way out of bed).

Killer walked over, almost vibrating with delight (so many jokes about early birds and lazy skeletons!), but all the joy was gone when Dream's head finally popped out from under the blanket.

It was always funny to see the guardian without his tiara, it felt like something was missing (like seeing Horror without the hole in his head. It happened once in an alternative AU that only lasted a few hours), but it wasn't the lack of the golden accoutrement that caught his attention.

Dream blinked trying to get his bearings, groaning as he turned towards the windows, only to quickly turn away with a groan and turn back to Killer blinking even more.

-Good morning, Killer.

If the yellowish appearance of Dream's skull wasn't enough (which had nothing to do with blushing, but the coloring of the bone itself), which in itself would be a warning for concern, as Dream had some of the whitest bones Killer had already seen it (which was something, since he had seen hundreds and hundreds of skeletons across the Multiverse), there were still the dark spots under the eye sockets and his voice that sounded absolutely destroyed.

(If it had been anyone other than Dream, he would have made a joke that last night had been "good", but he knew Dream well and knew that he hadn't been drinking or doing “other things” last night)

When the skeleton made to crawl out of the bed (or the plush trap that passed for a bed) Killer stopped him with a hand on his ribcage.

-Hmm? -Dream grumbled. His head bobbed like one of those spring-headed puppies that Farm insisted on putting on his brother's tractor, which would be funny if it weren't so worrying.

-You're not leaving this bed. - He ordered, and if it weren't for his concern for the sick skeleton, even he himself would find his serious and slightly nervous tone strange.

Dream's eyes widened. A golden blush appeared on his cheeks which lightened the yellow tone of his bones making them appear lighter in contrast to the shine.

-Hum... Killer... I'm not really in the mood...

This time Killer was the one who widened his eyes, realizing how his words could be interpreted.

(He would later have a little chat with Horror to find out exactly what expression and tone he was projecting to his lovers that Dream had so badly confused his concern with desire)

In another situation he would have jumped right at Dream's jugular and teased him to death for jumping to hasty conclusions, but worry made him lose his sharp tongue.

(not that he wouldn't save it for later when Dream didn't look like a Halloween skeleton that had been long forgotten in some musty basement)

Dream tried to get out again, but Killer pressed his ribcage again and as proof of how bad the guardian was, he gave in immediately.

-Ah-hã. Very funny, but you won't be leaving this bed and you certainly won't be doing anything more strenuous than breathing!

Dream blinked, seeming not to understand Killer's words.

-What?

Killer snorted.

-You're clearly sick. You're going to stay in bed today.

This time it was Dream who snorted and immediately started coughing. Killer sat next to him holding the other skeleton's shoulders as him was shaken by the coughing fit.

-I'm fine... – Dream croaked and Killer laughed humorlessly.

-I am seeing. You just sound like you swallowed a blender and look like a cross between an old, half-melted candle and a panda. – Letting go of one shoulder, he brought his hand to Dream's cheek, happily noticing that it wasn't much warmer than normal.

(Dream was always warm, almost like fresh blood... or a mug of warm tea on a cold day)

-Killer, I'm....

-I'll sit on you to keep you in bed if I have to! – Killer threatened and this silenced the guardian for a few seconds before he retorted.

-Hum... depending on where, I won't complain...

The smart answer (and clearly double meaning) hit him like a punch and he looked in astonishment (and embarrassment). Dream let out a wheezing laugh and Killer had to hold him again while he was hit by another coughing fit.

Well, at least his mood hadn't been affected.

***

Dream made himself more comfortable on the bed (as much as his aching body would allow) and sighed. He had promised Killer he would stay in bed, and honestly? He thought he couldn't fail to keep his promise, even if he didn't want to.

His whole body hurt, especially his joints. His head felt like it was full of cotton, at the same time very heavy and very light. Even the inside of his eye sockets hurt (how was that possible when there was nothing there?!).

The worst part wasn't the pain, he thought, staring at the ceiling. The pain was something he could bear, the worst was the feeling of exhaustion, the feeling of “something wrong” and mental lethargy. He seemed to be thinking normally, but he knew better. His thoughts were slower...almost in a loop. He was thinking about something and suddenly found himself repeating “I don’t feel well” or “there’s something wrong with me”.

He had woken up feeling that if he breathed a little harder his body would collapse like a jenga tower. He lay there, without opening his eye sockets and trying to figure out why he was feeling so tired and weak.

Something was wrong, he thought hazily. Even so, he made an effort to gather the strength to get up and get ready for the day... but he was so tired... it wouldn't hurt to sleep for another 5 minutes, right? Just 5 more minutes... (or 10... maybe 15... no more than 20!) and then he would get up.

He had fallen asleep again and his 5 minutes had long passed if the fact that Killer came to wake him up meant anything.

Now he regretted it. He should have gotten up. His “5 minutes” not only did nothing for him (he felt even more tired) and also caused concern for others.

Speaking of others...

The door opened with a bang and Dream woke up with a start realizing that she had dozed off. Blinking, he stared at the three skeletons piled up on the floor. Horror growled and walked past the three (who began to curse and fight with each other while rolling around on the floor), being careful with the tray he was holding. The smell hit him almost at the same time as the sight of the still-steaming pancakes.

Clutching the duvet in one fist he forced himself to keep his face neutral. Normally just the thought of pancakes, especially those made by Horror (or anything he cooked) would be enough to make him salivate, and although the sight made his non-existent stomach tighten, it wasn't in a good way.

He sat down (or rather shuffled and rocked until he could lift his upper body) as the tall skeleton placed the tray carefully beside him. There was a plate with a stack of golden pancakes covered in syrup, a glass of milk, and even a small vase with a red flower.

The gesture alone warmed Dream. He smiled genuinely at Horror who returned it. Seeing that the other didn't move and was looking at him expectantly, Dream picked up the glass of milk and held it, but made no move to bring it to his mouth.

To distract himself (and the skeleton that was staring at him like a one-eyed eagle) he looked at the door where the other three had gotten up but were still fighting. He couldn't define his feelings (only feel the discomfort they caused), but he didn't need to be an empath to know they were about to fly at each other's throats. To avoid future fights, Dream cleared his throat (very carefully so as not to fall into another coughing fit) to get the attention of the brawlers.

It worked really well.

Killer jumped up and turned to Dream, completely forgetting about the other two. He approached quickly, calming down when he saw that Dream didn't have an extreme reaction this time. Dust and Cross followed closely behind, heaping next to the bed.

Dream was touched, really, but this reaction only made him feel worse.

-I am fine....

All 3 skeletons, with the exception of Killer, widened their eye sockets.

-You didn't say he sounded like a frog! – Dust accused.

-I said he was sick, what did you expect?

-Do you have a sore throat, Dream? – Cross asked in a tone that mixed sympathy and concern.

-Ginger, garlic, lemon... – muttered Horror.

Dream grimaced. His throat didn't hurt and he honestly didn't understand why his voice sounded so horrible.

(Well, actually he could guess an answer. He didn't have vocal chords or a throat to inflame. As a skeleton his voice was generated by magic, and since his magic was affected by the disease... it was pretty obvious why his voice was sounding like he spent all night in karaoke singing havy mettal)

(a very fun experience, but with unpleasant consequences for those who had no experience, even for people without vocal cords, he knew from his own experience)

-I am fine. – he said, trying to modulate his voice better this time.

-Only if it's the role of a zombie in those series that Killer likes. – Dust mocked.

-Dust! – Cross scolded.

-What? He's terrible! He's the color of those old papers (parchments, whispered Horror helpfully) that Nightmare collects and looks like Killer when he tries to wipe the goo off his face.

Cross opened his mouth to argue, but closed it and Killer just stared at Dust, the said black trails on his cheeks getting a little brighter the more liquid hate leaked out.

Dream thought about saying something to lighten the mood, but what came out was.

-Am I that bad?

The 4 skeletons turned to him with varying degrees of panic.

-No!

-Of course, no!

-You are great! I mean to say...

-Dust is exaggerating....

The 4 tried to argue at the same time.

Dream held back a smile. He hadn't expected to send them into a panic or anything, but their reaction was priceless.

He was sick. He admitted it, but it wasn't the end of the world or anything like that. He certainly wasn't going to die and it didn't justify their concern and especially their time wasted on him.

-Thanks guys. - he said, cutting off the verbiage. – I... I'm not well, – he corrected himself when he saw the 4 of them look at him with ugly faces – but I'll stay, I just need to rest a little.

-Yes!

-Clear!

-Undoubtedly!

And with that Cross started pushing the other two out of the room, promising that he would keep them out of the room so Dream could sleep in peace. Dust left without protest, but Killer continued complaining and acting limp the entire way.

Horror also got up, following Cross's cue, but stopped at the door, and after a moment, he turned back to the bed. Dream looked at him expectantly and Horror leaned over pointing at the pancakes.

-This is making you sick, isn't it?

Dream faced the monster with his mind in a whirl, looking for an excuse. He didn't want to offend Horror by saying that the food (something so precious to him) that he had prepared so carefully was making him sick. He was about to deny it (and even force himself to eat some) when he stared into that red eye and found himself paralyzed.

Without a word he gritted his teeth and just nodded, unable to lie to him. Horror smiled and Dream felt like a weight had been lifted from his ribs.

The skeleton with a split head then gently took the glass from Dream's hands and placed it on the tray, then picked it up with just one hand. He caressed Dream's skull, who marveled once again at the other monster's delicacy, despite its size, strength and savagery that those bones could contain.

-Rest a little. I'll make something lighter for you.

With one last stroke he straightened up and left carrying the untouched tray, muttering about mint and rice.

Dream snuggled under the covers, feeling warm. Heat that didn't just have to do with the covers, much less with his illness.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face and a feeling of contentment.

***

Of all the things that could come with one of them being sick, he never imagined Cross would freak out.

They let Dream sleep until almost noon. By then, he had already set up two lunches, (sandwiches for them and a light, nutritious broth for Dream), as well as a special pot of tea. (an old recipe from his time underground with some additions of things he had recently learned from Life)

In the meantime they had to deal with Cross standing guard at Dream's bedroom door, breaking into Nightmare's library for medical books, throwing a "tantrum" because none of the books talked about monster illnesses (to which Dust reminded him scathingly that even if he had, it wouldn't be of any use since Dream was a “special case”), so he was looking for dragon diseases, and having another crisis after not finding anything useful despite the amount of books about the so-called giant lizards.

(many of Nightmare's acquisitions in his search for answers about his peculiar dragon nature)

Honestly, he was almost approving of Killer's idea of tying him up in one of the castle's scenic dungeons. It was only the fact that he knew it was worry for Dream that was leaving him like this that he held back, but his patience was wearing thin.

-Here! Do something useful.

Horror placed the tray in Cross's hands and watched the skeleton struggle to balance everything for a moment. As soon as the liquid stopped oscillating inside the containers, Cross turned his mismatched lights on Horror with a silent question.

Raising an eyebrow (and ignoring Killer and Dust who had lifted their skulls from the table like hyenas at the smell of blood) he glared back before shooing him away.

-Let's go! Before it gets cold!

With a start Cross turned and disappeared. Smiling, he turned to finish tidying up the counter and found himself facing the other two skeletons.

-What? –he asked when he saw the twin looks of disbelief..

-Why, Brutus?! - Killer whimpered dramatically.

Horror turned his only light and went to put away the remaining items.

-Did you want to deal with another one of his crises or brilliant ideas? Because I wanted a break.

Furthermore, he imagined that Dream could intuit Cross's mood and would be the only one who could calm him down (since Nightmare wasn't there).

Not that he wasn't worried. He was! Monsters didn't get sick easily. Viruses, worms and bacteria could not affect them. Of course, they were susceptible to poisons and diseases of the soul and mind. Since he was the one preparing everyone's meals and Dream didn't have strange eating habits like the others to blame, he was sure he hadn't been poisoned.

More or less.

He had a good guess as to why Dream was sick, and he knew that the others were thinking the same thing too (except Cross who in his panic hadn't come to the obvious conclusion) and if he was right, worrying or getting angry wouldn't help Dream in nothing to improve.

Dream needed peace, rest and good feelings. With that in mind he left the other two skeletons with their sandwiches (and an express order that they eat everything without whining) and left to visit a specific AU in search of the perfect items for the meal he was planning for later.

***

Cross fumbled as he balanced the tray with one hand and knocked on the door with the other.

“You should just go in! He must be asleep and won’t hear you.” – complained XChara.

Cross ignored him, watching carefully as the liquid in the containers wavered until it stopped before trying again. When no one responded a second time, and XChara had stopped huffing, he turned the handle and entered.

(No one could accuse him of having no manners!)

The room was exactly the same as when he left it that morning only this time he could hear Dream snoring softly. He approached silently and peeked at the sleeping skeleton.

Dream was wrapped in his sea of blankets, with only his face out (the fleeting image of a caterpillar in a cocoon flashed through his mind).

He didn't look much better... In fact, he looked even more yellowish in contrast to the colors around him.

“We should let him sleep.” – suggested XChara, looking over Cross's shoulder.

“But Horror said he should eat....he also needs energy to fight...whatever that is.”

Despite his words, Cross hesitated.

What if he couldn't eat?

What if it was something serious?

Dream let out a soft moan and it brought him out of his paralysis.

Placing the tray on the nightstand (it was lucky that Dream only kept the lamp and a glass of water there) he leaned over Dream to wake him up.

-Dream? Dream?! – he called, but Dream just groaned and turned around, burying himself in the blankets. XChara said nothing, but Cross could almost hear the “lazy skeletons” he thought.

(and if Cross felt amusement oozing from the other soul, he chose not to comment)

Cross then held Dream's shoulder so he wouldn't run away and called him a little louder. Dream woke up blinking disoriented, turning to Cross with a sleepy smile.

-Hi...-he said hoarsely.

-Hey. – Saldou Cross moved away and gave Dream space to get up, but staying close in case he needed help.

Dream managed to position himself sitting on the pillows, although the act took longer than usual. It squeezed something in Cross's soul.

"Wow! That’s a reheated shit face!”

“Shut up!”

Dream winked at Cross and then turned to the nightstand and Cross jumped up to grab the tray.

-Horror prepared lunch.

Dream looked appraisingly at the tray and Cross felt something inside him plummet as he saw the already pale yellow lights become even paler.

-Ah, gosh, thank you! But you could have called me, I would have come down... Where are the others?

Cross felt a pang at the thought that he wasn't enough, being promptly discarded.

“He’s trying to distract us.” – warned XChara.

"I know!"

-Aren't you hungry? It's already past noon...

Dream looked away.

“He didn’t have dinner yesterday either.”

Three skipped meals... not good.

Could he get sick from not eating? Monsters were different from humans when it came to food, but even they needed food to survive.

“Give him the tea.” – ordered XChara.

"There is?" – he thought foolishly.

“The tea, your empty head! It’s with mint, to alleviate discomfort!”

Ignoring XChara, Cross picked up the tea.

(It wasn't his fault that he didn't pay attention to Horror's ramblings when he cooked. He was busy cursing the doctors and healers who never bothered to study dragons!)

-Can you at least have tea? Horror said it was a special recipe...

It was cruel to manipulate Dream like this when he was in such bad shape, but he needed something to eat.

Taking the cup, Dream brought it to his teeth and under the supervision of the other skeleton and the disembodied human, he took a sip. The former guard and the human's soul held their expectations until Dream swallowed. With an expression of relief, Dream took another sip and Cross's shoulders sagged.

-Thanks. – he blurted out and Dream flashed his lights at him.

-Hm, I think I'm the one who should thank you. – Dream smiled – But I must warn you that you are going to make me ill-accustomed... bringing me meals in bed...

-If you let us, we would always bring it.

As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. Feeling his face heat up, he tried to fix it.

-I mean, it's Horror who prepares it, but he certainly wouldn't mind bringing it, nor would the others... I mean... - he fell silent when Chara's laughter became too loud in his mind.

Dream blinked and a light golden blush bloomed on his cheeks. He looked healthier (and handsome his foolish mind offered) like this. He hid his smile in his cup as he took another sip.

“We need to improve your lines, boy in love. And your time too! The guy dying and you flirting....”

-He's not dying!!!

He only realized he exploded when he saw Dream's shocked expression. He immediately flinched, letting his collar cover his teeth as he felt his skull heat up. Dream placed the empty cup back on the tray and straightened up to face Cross seriously.

-No, I'm definitely not. - Dream spoke very calmly. Although his voice still sounded a little strange, he was a little better than he was when he first visited in the morning.

Cross lowered his face even further, staring at his feet until he felt a pair of hands grab his wrist and force him to face those bright yellow lights.

-Listen... – requested Dream in a tone that would not accept arguments - I'm sick, but I'm not dying. It's just a silly cold or something. It's not the first time I've been sick.

-No? – Cross said excitedly.

-Of course not! I remember a storm once... it soaked me and Nightmare to the bone! – he paused and Cross snorted at the stupid attempt at humor. XChara mumbled something like “skeletons and their bone puns” – I was shaky and feverish the whole next day. Nightmare wrapped me in my cape and made me chew an entire head of garlic!

Cross grimaced and Dream nodded in agreement.

-Yes, he was a sadist from a young age. There was his fellow guardian, delirious with fever and he does what? Urgh, I don't think I ever completely got rid of the taste!

“That explains why he doesn’t like garlic bread.”

Cross ignored XChara's remark in favor to confirm.

-But you got better...

Dream considered.

-Well, yes... but I'm not sure if it was the garlic... so please don't make me repeat the feat.

Cross chuckled at Dream's grimace.

-What I mean is that even guardians, dragons or not, can get sick. So don't worry, I'll get better. – after a considerable pause he continued - Have you never been sick yourself, Cross?

-Oh yes! There were a few times.

-And what did you do?

Cross tried to remember what had made him better when he was sick.

-I... I'm not sure... I think... I think XGaster just... “fixed it”.

The few times he felt bad he remembered being hot and dizzy, but continuing to study, or train until his body gave out and he passed out. He would then wake up in his bed, completely recovered the next morning.

(or maybe it wasn't really illness, but just exhaustion)

He didn't remember if Papyrus or Alphys had ever been sick, but he remembered Frisk catching a cold once. XGaster had forbidden them from visiting him, so he also had no idea how the human had reacted or been treated.

The silence became heavy.

“Toriel would put a cold compress on our foreheads and feed us in our mouths and Asgore would pick us up and rock us until we fell asleep.”

Cross startled, having forgotten about the human. He glanced sideways and saw XChara sitting with his back to them, floating about 10 cm above the mattress. His tone was as always when he spoke of long-rewritten memories. A mixture of nostalgia and longing, seasoned with pain and anger.

-I... I think I could have some soup...

The hesitant tone broke the awkward mood and Cross turned to Dream with renewed hope.

-Serious? – he wanted to confirm and Dream nodded.

Cross hurried to take the bowl, but hesitated when it came to handing it over.

He paused for a moment, revisiting the borrowed memory, realizing that both the former monarchs' care and the young Nightmare's attempted care may have done nothing to cure the illness, but served to soothe and even make them feel better. Filled with determination, he made up his mind. Dream didn't have a fever and he couldn't rock him to sleep (not if he wanted him to eat first), but he could feed him.

-Here!

He dipped the spoon into the broth and offered it to Dream who stared at the spoon in confusion. Dream tried to take the spoon, but Cross refused, taking it away carefully so as not to spill it. The two looked at each other (Cross was in a cold sweat and ready to give up, hand over the spoon and then go bury himself in shame in the gardens) and with a glow of amusement and a very slight blush, only noticeable due to their proximity, Dream opened his mouth.

Cross wasn't doing anything more than a job that Dream could do on his own (even when sick) very well, but this simple silly act filled him with satisfaction. He was doing something for Dream, even if that something did nothing to effectively cure his illness.

“Pftt! You guys are ridiculous!”

It was easy to ignore XChara's comment, mainly because the words were filled with mocking affection, but also because of the renewed glow in the ailing guardian's lights.

***

After Cross left him, carrying the almost empty bowl and a smile that would go from ear to ear (if he had ears) and a blush of satisfaction, Dream lay back on the bed feeling light and full at the same time. Despite it being just liquid (and not having consumed the entire bowl) the meal satisfied him as if he had eaten a banquet and the relief and happiness of the two half souls left him warm and relaxed.

He lay like that, in a state of calm contentment and imagined that he would soon fall asleep (and hopefully be well enough to leave the bed when he woke up). As expected he fell asleep quickly, only this time he didn't sink into a deep sleep like before. Her mind seemed to keep working, even if he couldn't identify what she was working on.

Groaning, he opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling of his room.

(Nightmare had asked Ink to paint a clear sky in his room, since the real one could almost never be seen. Ink had outdone himself and painted a blue sky with beautiful, incredibly realistic white clouds. He will even include seagulls and an eagle in each corner - and a small self-portrait in his dragon form in a corner half-hidden by a cloud that brought an amused smile when Dream discovered it)

What time would it be? Normally he could tell the time by the position of the sun (which wasn't an easy thing with the always cloudy skies of Nightmare's world), but at the moment he could only see the light that was filtered through the curtain, and that didn't help him figure it out the hours.

(Looking for his cell phone on his bedside table seemed like a herculean task. He should buy an alarm clock like the boys)

It was still light, so he figured he hadn't gotten that much sleep. He pondered whether he should get up or stay in bed.

On the one hand, he still didn't feel well (better than in the morning, but certainly not 100%) and maybe it would be better to lie down and rest (no, it had nothing to do with Killer's threats to tie him to the bed if he dared to get up). On the other... his room was so silent and empty...

Hugging one of the pillows he turned around burying his face in it, trying to go back to sleep (resting would be the quickest way to recover, he imagined). He tried to count apples, but quickly lost count (his mind began to shuffle the gold from the black and he gave up), but sleep just wouldn't come.

Turning around he faced the ceiling and mumbled

-Booooredom....

As if his muttering was a summoning spell, Dust suddenly appeared in the middle of the room. Dream jumped in fright and Dust imitated him, both looking at each other in fear.

-Um... sorry... I didn't mean to wake you up... – Dust muttered, lowering his head and letting his hood cover his face.

-Everything is fine. I was already awake. – Dream ran to reassure him.

Both were silent.

Of everyone in the castle, Dust was the hardest and easiest to read. His expressionless face most of the time, like now, gave no clue to his thoughts, on the other hand, apart from Cross, he was the one who was least able to hide his feelings, and now there was a somewhat confusing mix of feelings.

Some he couldn't define, but he could capture a hint of pride and excited expectation. He smiled, waiting for Dust to finally speak.

-Sorry, invading... I just wanted to leave this here... – he raised his hands showing that he was holding something.

-What is it? – Dream asked, filling with curiosity.

Dust approached the bed and opened his hands. Resting in his palms was a sort of compact pyramid of light green sand with tiny blue, purple, and yellow dots. As soon as he exposed it to the air, Dream smelled a soft fragrance of cut grass, ripe apples, Life's fur in the sun and the tea that Horror had prepared for him.

Dream blinked in astonishment.

-What is that?

-An environment bomb.

-One...??? – he looked confused and Dust placed the small pyramid on his nightstand.

-An environment bomb. – he repeated before stopping and pondering – That's what I'm calling her. I made it like a bath bomb, but instead of dissolving in water it dissolves in air.

-Oh! Like an incense?

Dust pondered.

-Yeah, just without the smoke. I thought this wouldn't cause any coughing.

Dust's care not to further irritate his symptoms touched him. He felt his smile widen until his face hurt.

-Thank you, Dust! It's incredible!!

The skeleton nodded and looked away again, but Dream could still see the faint violet glow from within the hood as well as feel the rise of his pride and contentment.

The fragrance changed and he smelled the sea, violets, chalk dust mixed with fresh snow.

-That's very inventive, how did you do it?

Dust shrugged and in an indifferent tone he began to talk about how he prepared the environment bomb. Despite the restrained tone and indifferent expression, Dream could feel the other skeleton's satisfaction and happiness. Dream didn't understand half of the magical explanation and ingredients that the other had used, but that didn't matter.

He would have been content with just Dust's stoic company, so having him talk was a pleasure in itself. Even more so in the excited way (for Dust) he was.

His boredom dissolved immediately and he soon found himself jumping from the environment bomb, onto the next hooded skeleton project. He may not have contributed much to the conversation, but if his “Ah!”, “Hmm” and “Fascinating! Tell me more!" they were enough for Dust, so they were enough for him.

Some time later someone knocked on the door and Dream invited him in. Horror appeared with a tray and a smile. He raised a bony eyebrow at Dust who had fallen silent when he heard the knocks and just stared at the large skeleton in silence. Approaching, Horror placed the tray next to Dream.

On the tray was a plate of biscuits, a peeled and sliced pear, and another mug of tea. Dream's non-existent stomach growled and he realized that not only was he hungry, but that the sight and smell of food didn't make him sick. He took a slice of the fruit and ate it.

Horror purred softly beside him, his eyelids lowering as contentment rolled off him in waves. Dust smirked and stole a cookie from the tray, throwing it into his mouth at the same time as Horror's purr turned into a growl at the flagrant theft.

Dream opened his mouth to say that he didn't mind sharing (there were a lot of cookies and despite his hunger he suspected he wouldn't be able to eat all of them), but Dust choked and started coughing. Dream was alarmed while Horror laughed.

-Ew! Ginger! – Dust complained after controlling his cough.

Placated by the fact that it wasn't anything serious, he also ended up laughing at Dust's grimace, his violet tongue sticking out and his look of profound disgust at the plate of cookies.

-They are for Dream not for you.

Dust looked betrayed at Horror who held the amused look before relenting.

-There's a tray of butter and jelly in the kitchen...

With the mismatched lights shining Dust stood up. He hesitated, teetering on the side of the bed. Like a snake he swooped down and kissed the top of Dream's skull before turning around and disappearing into thin air.

Dream was still staring dazedly at where Dust was, trying to process what had happened. When Horror started laughing again, he snapped out of his surprised paralysis and smiled in amusement.

Picking up a cookie, he turned to the large skeleton he had sat where Dust had been. A warmth spread across his tongue conjured to match what was growing inside him.

He was definitely a lucky monster! Two displays of affection, one direct and one indirect from the stoic monster on the same day... he couldn't be happier.

***

Horror watched as Dream ate. He alternated the pear with some biscuits before drinking tea. He knew it wasn't Dream's preferences, so he didn't even complain that he didn't eat as much as he should have. At least he ate something solid and it didn't look like the meal was going to make a surprise re-appearance.

Dream hadn't eaten much, but more than the last few meals and he was planning something more substantial and to Dream's liking for later. He took a good look at the guardian and was satisfied with what he saw.

His skull was clearer and its lights more vivid. There were still spots under the eye sockets, but these were also softer. His voice had returned to normal, thank the stars.

Apparently Cross and Dust's visits had done him good and the skeletons themselves too.

Horror might not be an empath like Dream or Nightmare, but even he could see how Dust wasn't as tense as he was leaving the room earlier as he was when he left for his “lab” earlier. And Cross certainly wasn't running around in circles like a caged animal anymore.

After Cross had returned with the half-empty bowl and a satisfied smile on his face, Killer had dragged him for a little training so that the other wouldn't have an idle mind and end up thinking about nonsense that would sour his mood. Dust had followed them, talking about not letting Killer end up provoking Cross too much and making the situation worse.

When Horror had returned from Farmtale, he had found the monochromatic skeleton sitting on the stairs to the gardens complaining about which donkey it was. Dust had passed him and just murmured “The penny has finally dropped!” before locking himself in his warehouse/laboratory. Horror had sighed with relief and a little exasperation and dragged Cross to the kitchen, where he had put the other's frustration to good use, forcing him to help him prepare the cookies.

(He had no sign of Killer, until the oven timer went off!)

Good very good.

If everything continued to progress well, the guardian would be well enough to get out of bed and have dinner with everyone. Just looking at him you could tell he was much better.

Dream asked how Farm was doing (“Quick-witted bastard!” Horror thought fondly) and Horror regaled him with the latest news about the farmer and his universe. They talked for a while, Horror internally calculating when the other would make his entrance.

He knew that Killer had stolen Dream's cell phone earlier (when and how he had no idea. He had long since stopped trying to figure out how Killer did these things) and was installing various silly games for the other skeleton.

(Dream certainly wouldn't mind. He, like Nightmare, wasn't very fond of technology – although he greatly appreciated some –, often using it only for communication, and most of the time in calls and not in messages. He didn't care about others messing with his cell phone)

Killer would soon show up and spend the rest of the afternoon showing them off and trying to teach Dream how to play them (with varying degrees of success) until the other ended up getting mentally tired or the repetitive movements made him drowsy.

As soon as he thought about it, the door opened and Killer walked in humming one of the silly nicknames he had given to his golden lover. Horror stood up, allowing Killer to throw himself into the newly freed space, leaving Killer to have his moment alone with Dream.

***

-Having fun?

(Nightmare didn't scream, no matter what Killer or Ccino said later)

He turned around and faced the skeleton without lights.

Nightmare wasn't used to being surprised. Being a powerful empath as he was, no matter how much they tried to disguise his presence or mask his feelings, Nightmare could feel them from miles away. The exceptions used to be Ink, Reaper, Fresh and Killer.

(Ink because he didn't have a soul. Reaper because of his “work” that allowed him to mask his existence. Fresh because the parasite didn't feel like other monsters and Killer because of his dissociation with his soul)

It had been a long, long time since Killer had managed to surprise him. As his relationship with him (and others) deepened, he became more connected to his soul and as a consequence, his feelings became stronger and more apparent.

Only now Nightmare didn't feel anything coming from the other monster. One look into his soul calmed and alarmed him in equal measure.

For one thing, his soul wasn't wavering like it did when he was dissociating, but it was in a perfect circle, a rare sight in recent months. He had gotten used to seeing Killer's soul in the traditional inverted heart shape and the sight of it back in the target shape made something inside Nightmare tighten.

-Hi, Killer. – Said Ccino in a probing tone.

-Good evening, Ccino.

Hmm... the voice was perfectly calm and even had the usual playful tone, but the words, too polite and the fact that he continued to stare at Nightmare, ignoring the barista, said that there was something wrong.

-Something happened? – he asked directly. The thought that something could have happened in his absence made his tentacles stir.

His boys were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves and he trusted that he would know if something happened (as had happened other times). Besides Dream being with them. But he still couldn't help but think the worst.

(you could say it was inevitable for him to think negatively)

-Oh yeah! It turned out that our powerful and dark “boss” decided to run away with his tail between his legs like a coward.

The tentacles on his back flailed and became sharp spears. His irritation was so great that he felt himself growing, his teeth sharpening and his claws emerging. Ccino took a step back into the cafe and Nightmare took a deep breath, controlling himself and reining in the transformation.

-Killer... - he growled in warning. He loved the sharp-tongued idiot, but he wouldn't tolerate such lack of respect and flagrant defiance.

Killer just smiled more and Nightmare cursed himself for falling for the other's provocations, realizing that irritating him was exactly what the other wanted.

-What? I am lying? Instead of going home, you've been holed up here all day, avoiding having to face Dream.

Killer almost hummed which made Nightmare's mood flare up again.

-I was just paying a visit... -Nightmare almost growled, trying to control his mood and keep the conversation civil.

-And I was going to go home now, I suppose.

Killer cut him off and Nighmare felt his temper immediately cool at the thought of returning to the castle and facing Dream and the others. He quickly tried to escape the conversation.

-I have some things to resolve...

In an instant Killer was on him. Nightmare took a step back and only vaguely registered Ccino's surprised gasp behind him as he stared into the empty, shadowy depths of Killer's orbs.

-You go home right now, even if I have to drag your sticky ass back to the castle.

The threat shook Nightmare out of his shock. The complete outrage he felt was mixed with astonishment. Killer had never been so fragrantly disrespectful towards him, at least not without the teasing or facetious tone to soften his words (and especially not in front of anyone other than one of his other declared companions). He opened his mouth, but Killer cut him off.

-Dream is sick.

The low-voiced sentence cut through the anger, as well as Nightmare's entire mental process.

Dream was sick.

Sick.

For his cause.

Nightmare backed away and slammed his back against the doorframe. Killer took a step back, no longer looming over Nightmare, but still close in case the sticky skeleton decided to teleport. Not that Nightmare was in a position to do so, as at the moment he was immersed in memories of the previous day.

It had been a quiet day...a quiet week. Maybe that was why the boys were so restless. At the end of the day, Cross and Killer had cornered him and, through pleading and provocation, dragged him outside the castle where the transformed Dream was waiting for him.

Dream had only given him time to also transform before launching himself at him. They bumped and squirmed (more play fighting than actually fighting), while the boys booed and cheered in equal measure.

Despite being smaller (and with fewer limbs), Dream had managed to wrap himself around the other dragon and immobilize it. It would all have been nothing more than a playful joke, a “noodle fight” as Killer had shouted when he convinced him to leave the castle, if his competitiveness hadn't reared its ugly head.

Seeing himself immobilized and hearing the cry of victory and the boos of the “fans”, the feeling of anger and wounded pride clouded his mind and without thinking he turned his neck and launched a puff of his toxic cloud of negativity straight into Dream's face.

The yellow dragon released him immediately. Coughing and choking and Nightmare rose triumphantly only to freeze when he noticed the silence around him. Turning to the other dragon he froze.

Dream was curled up, his scales so pale they looked almost white. His eye sockets were wide open and his lights were tiny colorless dots. As he watched he gasped once, twice, and began to shrink.

There was commotion and footsteps running across the grass. Cross and Horror stood next to Dream and waited for him to shrink enough to throw Horror's coat over Dream's changing form.

Nightmare caught a brief glimpse of a gray skull before being covered by Horror's faded blue coat. As the two tended to Dream, Nightmare heard his name being called. With great effort he detached his light from his fellow guardian and turned to Killer and Dust. The skeleton with two-colored eyes had a scolding face and Killer looked at him with concern.

(and fear, no matter how much Killer was trying to control him)

Nightmare shook himself. He turned and disappeared into the shadow of a nearby tree. He spent the next few hours hiding in his quarters martyring himself.

He replayed the events in his mind, angered by his lack of control, terrified by what he had done and the consequences of his thoughtless act.

He monitored Dream and his boys from afar. There was more worry than any other feeling, but he could feel small sparks of irritation and anger, as well as disappointment and a lingering spark of fear.

When it was close to dinner time he heard a knock on the door. He thought about ignoring it, but he knew that Horror wouldn't go away (stubbornness, persistence and resilience, he thought with fondness and exasperation at the time). He invited him in and the skeleton with the head wound did so. Before the monster spoke he asked about Dream and Horror informed him that he was fine. He had retired to his room and was sleeping.

The relief he felt was overwhelming.

(he had spent hours reliving that last vision of his fellow guardian, trying in vain to convince himself that the other was just pale and not turning to stone again because of him)

He opened his mouth to say he was sorry, that it wasn't his intention, it was an accident! Instead he found himself saying he was going to leave. He needed to resolve some pending matters that could no longer wait. Before Horror could protest he melted into the thick shadows of his room and was gone.

He went to Ccino's universe and spent the night in the shadows of the barista's roof until the cafe opened. He had then spent the day haunting a dark corner of the café, being tormented by Ccino's long stares and a sunny yellow cat who had taken to sleeping on his lap and an irritating white and black and gray brindle cat who had spent much of the day playing with his tentacles limp on the ground.

Ccino wasn't able to fully tease out what was bothering him (but he managed enough to conclude that he had done something he regretted and didn't want to face the consequences), but he managed to alleviate some of his bad mood.

When the day was over, and Ccino closed the cafe and finished cleaning, Nightmare got up (picking up the yellow cat and placing it on the sofa next to a black who stared at him evilly with his one turquoise blue eye) ready to leave, but he still did not intend to return to the castle.

He was thinking about going to Mafiatale, getting something personalized for Dream as an apology (the Egyptian cotton robe with gold filigree embroidered on the chest that he had given Dream for Christmas was much appreciated. Both by Dream, for its luxurious softness, and by everyone else since the golden guardian loved to use it (and nothing else) after a shower, when Killer had surprised him.

Now he knew that his act of wounded pride had caused as much harm as he had initially imagined.

A hand landed on his shoulder and it was only out of some kind of instinct that he didn't attack Ccino. Turning his face slightly he faced the barista with his only working light. He didn't know what kind of expression he was making, but when he saw him, the barista smiled his patented “Everything will be fine after a good cup of coffee” smile. Squeezing his shoulder once again, he told him to wait and disappeared into his Coffe shop.

Nightmare remained rooted to the spot, staring into the darkness which was the coffee shop seen from outside. He would have stayed there for who knows how long if the sound of Killer pulling out a knife and throwing it up and spinning it before catching it back by the hilt without even looking at it hadn't caught her attention.

-Save this! – he demanded. Killer smiled and put away the knife.

Swallowing hard and turning his face away to look at the cement between his feet, he finally asked what was tormenting him.

-How is he? – He asked his feet. There was a crack in the cement and some kind of weed was growing out of it.

(Nightmare absently made a mental note to get someone to repair the sidewalk. Keeping the facade well-maintained was essential to the success of the Coffe Shop)

-Who? – Killer asked the question mockingly and Nightmare growled.

-Dream, of course!

-Oh! Now do you care about him?

This time it was Nightmare who advanced on the other skeleton holding his coat and growling in his face.

How dare he?!

He hadn't done anything all day (his entire life) to worry about. With Killer, with Cross, Horror, Dust and especially Dream.

(Hell! He cared about Error, Ink and Reaper and even Geno who he barely knew and had only seen a few times)

Killer's eye sockets softened and his smile lost its sharp edge.

-Ah! Here it is. – Indifferent to the growl that still came from the back of Nightmare's throat, Killer tilted his head and placed his forehead against that of the guardian of negativity. – You worried me.

The words cut through the growl and the contact made his tentacles relax. He hadn't even realized he had them ready to attack. (This alarmed him a bit. He wasn't normally a hothead, why was he acting so viscerally?)

-Worried? – He asked confusedly. Killer scoffed.

-When we get back we're going to have a long talk. You can't just run away every time you make a mistake. – Nightmare opened his mouth to protest, but Killer continued. – You shouldn't leave your feelings in the dark to rot your thoughts and sour your perception, Nighty.

The truth of the words (an echo of what he and Dream kept hammering into them) as well as their affection made Nightmare remain silent and, after a pause, nod his head. Killer suddenly straightened up and Nightmare swayed before steadying himself. Ccino appeared with a cardboard bag in his hand and a cat at his ankles.

(he wondered “who” the tricolor cat was)

-Is he really bad? – Ccino asked, handing the bag to Killer, who dismissed the other's concerns with his hand.

-Nah! He is fine! We made him spend the day in bed, but he came down to have dinner with us. It was just a vegetable and cereal soup, and Cross insisted on carrying him to the kitchen. How much Dreambot complained you couldn't even suspect that he was feeling bad a few hours before.

The words calmed Nightmare's internal turmoil a little more (it would only completely calm down when he personally verified Dream's well-being).

With a last thank you to Ccino and a promise to give news, the two returned to the castle.

***

After dinner was over (and Killer was gone), Dream managed to stop the other three from immediately taking him to his room (he had slept most of the day and now he wasn't sleepy at all). After a short discussion, the three agreed to watch a video together.

They moved to the TV room and Dream found himself wrapped in one of the blankets (strategically left on the back of the couch for him) sandwiched between Horror and Cross with Dust sitting on the floor leaning against his leg, while Horror and Cross made fun of antics main characters of the comedy that Horror had chosen for the night.

Despite what he had said, he soon fell asleep, lulled by the laughter of his three companions and the pleasure that their happiness gave him.

(and if the void left by the other 2 stung a little, he tried not to notice, focusing on Horror's low chuckle or Cross/XChara's biting comments and Dust's constant presence)

When he woke up again he was back in his bed. The light from his lamp illuminated the room enough for him to make out the dark figure of Nightmare sitting in an armchair next to the bed.

-Nighty! – he shook happily, struggling to sit up (not because of the pain in his joints that had almost disappeared, but because he was tightly wrapped in the blanket). The sight of the other guardian caused the knot he had been ignoring since he woke up and hadn't felt it in the castle to loosen.

Nightmare got up quickly and went to him with the intention of forcing him to lie down, but Dream wasn't going to lose this battle this time. Enforcing his will, he sat down and held both cuffs of the dark monster's coat, afraid that it would disappear like a fever dream.

Nightmare didn't disappear nor did he make any move to let go or move away. In fact, he sat on the edge of the mattress. The two stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Dream wanted to erase that worry line on his partner's sticky forehead.

-I'm sorry, Dream. – Nightmare asked, looking at him.

-Hmm? Whereby? – he blinked in confusion.

-For attacking him with my fog of negativity (Killer called him Dark Breath, and despite the name being consistent with what he was, Nightmare refused to call him that) and not even having the decency to have come to see how was.

Sliding his hands through the hilts and into the former guardian's hands, he intertwined their fingers and squeezed them.

-I know it wasn't intentional, Nighty. It was an accident.

-No! I... – Dream pressed his fingers once again and Nightmare fell silent.

-It's okay, Nighty. I accept your apology. – Dream cut him off with a big smile.

He was being sincere. He had felt when the triumph of victory had died away, giving way to dark feelings that he could not define (but which only made the pain he felt at the time more intense).

Dream had forgiven him immediately, knowing it wasn't intentional and that Nightmare hadn't meant to hurt him. Despite having mastered their draconian forms for some time now, sometimes both would forget something obvious and essential about their reptilian forms.

Nightmare's shoulders sagged and his tentacles hung lifelessly around him.

-Damn, Dream! Don't be so forgiving. – Nightmare scolded, although his light and posture showed his relief.

-I can't help being the way I am. – Dream joked, shrugging.

Nightmare snorted and Dream smiled and after a minute he smiled too.

-You are impossible! – The sticky skeleton's tone was exasperated, but his light was affectionate.

-I am, and you love me for it. – Dream hummed.

-Yes I love.

The confession caught Dream by surprise, his eyes widening before his smile widened and a golden glow colored his cheek.

-I love you too, Nighty.

-I know.

-Pfft! You could sound a little less smug!

Nightmare released one hand and brought it to Dream's forehead.

-I am fine! – Dream groaned, running away from the hand. Nightmare studied him for a moment and then nodded, lowering his arm and accepting his words.

-You should still rest. Ccino sends "get well" and one of those buttercream cupcakes you like. If you want, I can get it for you. – he added, amused when he saw the yellow lights become stars.

-No!

Dream's denial made Nightmare flinch and Dream himself shrinking at his intensity. Blushing harder he squeezed her still captive hand and asked shyly.

-No, thank you, leave it for tomorrow... I... I would prefer you to stay a little longer... If you can, of course!

-Okay, then get there. I spent the whole day in a chair, I need to stretch my legs.

Moving to make room, Dream felt himself vibrate as Nightmare crawled up beside him. It took a long time for Dream to get used to (create antibodies, as Cross said) with the liquid negativity that surrounded Nightmare and this being more open with physical contact, afraid that it would somehow harm him. After yesterday's incident, Dream had feared that he would go back to his old habits of trying to avoid him.

-Are you sleepy?

Dream denied it despite the yawn he had just made. With a playful sound Nightmare slid a tentacle under Dream's bed before picking him up, bringing with him a book.

(Dream wondered if he had used the shadows to catch him in his study or if there had actually been a book under his bed this whole time)

Adjusting himself better on the pillows (having a handful of tentacles on his back sometimes made getting comfortable a laborious feat) he leaned back and supporting the book on a tentacle, he leafed through it looking for something. After a few pages he stopped and then began reading aloud.

Dream settled down next to him, placing his skull on the arm of the other guardian, who wrapped one of the tentacles around him in a loose hug. His voice was somewhat different from his youth, but the cadence was the same and just like so many times in his youth, his voice lulled him to sleep.

His companion might be called Nightmare, but by his side, he was sure that his sleep would only be disturbed by the most beautiful and peaceful dreams.

And tomorrow would be a new day, one, hopefully, without illness and mishaps, with just the presence of her sweet, warm lovers (and a cupcake or two with buttercream).

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