#ambiguous morality

It was just a whim. A small little urge that Desire gave into because that was what they did. That night, they would place the feather in the cap of their wonderful plan, giving Unity Kinkaid a child and placing Dream on the express pass to a humbling downfall. 

Not to say their dear brother hadn’t already been knocked low. The brilliance of this plan came in the repeated hits. Over and over, Dream would be faced with the cold hard reality that he wasn’t any better than anyone else. Whoever thought Dream belonged on a level with Death and Destiny really was a clown. He was no better than them. 

But the thought came to mind of how funny it would be to see Dream locked in that glass cage. Naked. Trapped by mortals. Kept weak and powerless.

Oh, even thinking about it got Desire’s motor running, so if they saw him, if they looked at his bare humiliation before visiting the Vortex that wouldn’t be, that would just be the icing on their cake. 

Except -- it wasn’t. 

Trapped as he was, Dream couldn’t recognize Desire through their disguise. Standing out of sight, Desire studied Dream. Absorbed him. Obsessed over every inch of pale skin. Over the universes which his eyes contained. 

The Endless were beautiful. Each in their own way and Desire most of all, but they were all gorgeous creatures. Humanity loved to beautify even the worst of them. Even Despair in her gloom held a consuming depth to her gaze which drew humans in. They loved their sadness. Romanticized it as much as their destructive whims or impossible dreams. 

So, of course, Dream looked divine. Long-limbed and vulnerable. If he were anyone else, Desire would have taken advantage of the situation without hesitation, burrowing themselves so deep inside him that a piece of them would never leave. Unity Kinkaid was a task. A means to an end. If they could do that to Dream, well — this whole plan wouldn’t be happening, now would it? 

Or maybe it would. Lovers tended toward passionate ends, for better or worse, and Desire rarely lost themselves to a want with anyone else the way they did with Dream, so it would be a bloody end, and they would both be doomed for it.

Except a twisted little thought crept into Desire’s mind. It came from nowhere. Or perhaps simply somewhere so deep down that they would never give name to the horrible, putrid source. Either way, it sounded rather like Delirium — I could save him. 

Oh, wouldn’t that be a laugh? Desire saving Dream. No one would see it coming. Destiny hadn’t. Destiny said they didn’t have to worry. Dream would return and everything would be set right. Of course, Destiny’s apathy left Death concerned, but the look in her eyes — she knew something. She knew Desire would win even if she didn’t know that they were the ones behind this whole mess. This was just stage one. The prelude. The fucking opening act when Dream discovers the lowest he can be drawn to and makes it all worse over and over again because of the stick up his ass that made him so stubborn, so unmovable. Dream wouldn’t yield, so why should Desire?

But wouldn’t it be funny? Desire comes in and sweeps Dream out of his circle, catching their brother’s weakened form, cradling all that pale skin to their chest before setting the house on fire as the captors peeled their own skin in a mad orgy. Wouldn’t it be heroic? Wouldn’t it be so unpredictable if Desire collected Dream’s things and found Dream’s stupid raven, escorting them to Desire’s realm. 

Dream would protest, but how easy would it be to hush him? If Dream wanted to go to his realm, then Desire would go as well. Just to be safe. Just to be certain. Because they cared about Dream. 

Dream would never suspect them. If the plan continued and failed, then Dream would see Desire with all the strings, but this? For all Dream brushed them aside, his pride would never let him believe that Desire had the foresight to yearn for his destruction obsessively only to give up. 

But it wouldn’t be giving up. It would be a surprise. A fun change to their game as Dream continued on playing chess with nails and horse shoes. What would his expression be like? Before his power returned, would he cling to Desire? Would he thank them? 

Oh, even if he didn’t, Desire could lord that over him. Feign humility. Feign understanding. Feign that it was fine that Dream didn’t appreciate the rescue because all Desire truly wanted was their brother back.

A seductive smile and a little flirtation sent the guards away. Crossing into the room, Desire made their entrance. 

“Oh, brother-mine, what have these mortals done to you?” Desire crooned.

Dream sat up. Those infinity eyes narrowed, but it wasn’t his usual glare. He looked confused. Relieved. Frustrated. A thousand emotions danced in their brother’s hollow expression, but when Desire scuffed out the circle, shock took center stage. 

“Destiny said to not interfere. I know you had a plan to outlast them, so you don’t have to thank me,” Desire announced, purposefully preempting their brother’s broody grudge-holding ways. “This is for me. I missed you. I wanted you back. The world is so boring without you.” Oh, this felt too true. All that prideful distance cracked and something churned in Dream’s gaze. This was addictive. They wanted more. “Never fear, brother-mine, I’ll rescue the fair damsel and keep you safe. All for a kiss.” 

He wouldn’t believe Desire if there wasn’t a cost, but the amusement at the request as the sphere cracked was the most positive emotion Dream had shown Desire in eons. When he collapsed forward, weakened by his imprisonment into Desire’s arms, the careful winding of those thin arms around Desire’s neck was nothing compared to the soft almost smile at Dream’s lips. 

His smile was so beautiful. It was easy to forget how cruel Dream’s affections could be. Once burned, their brother never forgave. Not truly. His punishments transformed. The line between the perfection of the dream and the horror of the nightmare he could be — Desire loved that stark contrast, but they suffered the nightmare for so long that the smallest of gestures left them reeling. Dream’s head softly rested on their shoulder. The upward curve of lips grew as the house burned. 

“To my realm then!” Desire purred as the mansion burned down around them, people fucking even as the flames closed in. 

Dream frowned. “My things.” 

“I already sent them ahead of us.” 

Dream’s eyes narrowed. Always suspicious. Always blaming Desire for their fickle nature. If only he knew how it had saved him this time. 

“You still haven’t given me that kiss, brother-mine. A deal is a deal,” Desire teased, frustration mounting when Dream tried to move away — his all-consuming eyes catching sight of his stupid bird. 

Taking was fun. Pushing someone down and doing what they wanted, that was Desire unleashed, but sometimes they wanted to be given things, so they pressed, intending to spend eons teasing about an owed kiss only to have cold hands hold their face and soft lips press to their forehead like a benediction. Not lustful. Not covetous. Forgiveness. 

Desire bent to a whim. That was natural. That was their nature, but Dream? Dream should’ve been stubborn. Should have shoved Desire away and acted aloof. Acted the better. 

“Thank you, sibling-mine,” Dream whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “I am grateful for your aid.” 

Desire’s lips twisted into a salacious smirk. “Oh, Dream, that just won’t do.” 

Pulling the older down, Desire showed him how to kiss. Reminded him of wanting and passion. Reminded him of what Desire felt like, burning and all consuming — gentled by longing and eons tending a flame alone in the dark. Oh, if they could safely draw blood, Desire would become vicious. Would plunder and nip until red painted Dream’s lips, but sweeping the other into their realm, they set Dream upon their bed and sent the raven out to roost. Dream’s things sat upon the mantle, but instead of letting their brother collect them, Desire curled around him, holding Dream to their chest.

“I must return to my realm.”

Desire held tighter. “You can barely stand.” 

“Already, I grow stronger, and my strength shall return all the quicker in the Dreaming,” their brother stated, though he did not fight to get away. Undoubtedly, he knew he was still weakened, and here in Desire’s realm, they were as close to equals as they had ever been.

Pushing Dream down into the sheets, Desire crossed to the mantle, glaring over their shoulder. “Until you are well, I intend to be your shadow.” 

They tossed over the helm, toying with the sand before doing the same. Oh, that startled disbelief in Dream’s expression. He expected a fight. Expected somehow to be obeyed and disobeyed all at once. He didn't trust kindness. Not from Desire. He was smart that way. 

“My ruby.”

Putting on the necklace, Desire smirked. “It looks better on me, don’t you think?”

“That is not a toy,” Dream intoned.

He stood on lean legs. There was no need for modesty between them, though Desire would’ve loved to see Dream in the red shine of their sheets. 

Toying with the ruby, Desire gestured vaguely. “Well, open your portal, brother-mine. I intend to follow, and if I need to wear your ruby to ensure you don’t run off to lick your wounds alone, I will.”

“Why are you so insistent?” 

“You might as well ask me why I love you,” Desire retorted with a smile. 

Brows furrowing, Dream of the Endless took up his sand, opening the portal. He said nothing. Perhaps Dream was finally too tired to speak, or perhaps he was simply bored with Desire again. Everyone else longed for them, but Dream — Dream walked away first. Called them cruel first. Dream adored them as they were and then condemned them for their nature when it no longer suited him. Why had they saved him again?

Oh, that soft, reluctant almost smile. Distrusting but hopeful. Agonized by rules in a realm of impossibilities.

Dream didn’t keep the portal open for them, but he didn’t close it before they walked through either. Desire took it as a silent invitation, and for the first time in eons, they entered the Dreaming. Standing at Dream’s side felt like home. Endless possibilities. Everything offered before them. They could have it all. 

Why had Dream denied them? This was how they were meant to be. Desires and dreams went hand in hand, didn’t they? People desired what they dreamed of. They dreamed of what they desired. Only a callous heart would separate them.

Never look away. Look only at me. If anyone else enters your world, I’ll ruin them. Ruin you. 

Was it their fault no one longed for Dream like they did? That no one stood beside him unwavering in their desire? 

Yes. For all that Dream could be cruel, Desire ensured his lovers proved fickle. Then again, Dream did have a type. Strong-willed and passionate. Desire liked to believe they created that mold. 

Toying with the ruby around their neck as Dream’s attendants rushed to him in joy — as Dream prepared to set his realm to right — that traitorous frustration arose in Desire’s heart. If their brother had trusted them, none of this would have happened. They would have remained as they were. Desire would never have shown him that all love was fickle. 

Oh, Dream could have his affairs. Gratification, here and there. Desire did too. They came and went. Sex wasn’t the same. It didn’t mean anything. 

Dream should have known. Should have trusted that while Desire was fickle about many things, they were unwavering in their yearning for him. If they could not have him, nobody would. 

Crushing the ruby, Desire expected his brother’s ire, but power flowed, and Dream startled.

“I had forgotten how much of my power I placed in that,” Dream murmured, looking at his hands. 

Desire ached to play nurse. Of course, they knew they would grow bored, but seeing Dream weak always pleased them, so this sudden return to strength only stoked the growing discontent. They should have left him in the cage. Should have kept him trapped. Should have continued the plan and had him killed rather than see him turn them away again. 

Then a soft smile. Caught in the flame that was Dream, butterflies danced in Desire’s chest. Their wings left ash on Desire’s tongue, but the shift in posture — not a gesture, not a beckoning anyone else would recognize but the closest to an invitation Dream could manage (practically seduction, bending over and begging for it with the way his expression gentled) — that shift allowed Desire to open their hand, letting the remains of the ruby dissipate as they stood beside their brother. Impatient. Excited.