#minific asks

It took a long time, unbearably long really, for Neve and his mother’s breathing to become even and slow. It had taken so long he’d nearly fallen asleep himself, and probably would have if the turning of nerves in his stomach hadn’t helped him stay on edge.

Tonight was the night.

He was a little terrified. But he couldn’t wait, either.

Caius carefully maneuvered out of the bed he shared with his younger sister, mindful as he always was to avoid anything that might wake her up. Neve was a frustratingly light sleeper, and he didn’t want to be late just because he’d accidentally jostled her.

When he finally made it to his feet, he paused, staying still as a statue, until he was certain her breathing had stayed at that slow and steady pace.

In and out.

He slipped his bed robes off, congratulating himself for thinking ahead and leaving his trousers on beneath as he did. One less thing that might rouse someone.

Maker’s arse, was sliding on his tunic always so bloody loud? Caius glanced over at where his mother lie — utterly unconscious, as usual — and then back at where Neve slept apparently without worry.

But of course. What did she have to worry about. Had her life set, didn’t she? He’d probably sleep easy too, had he been the one who’d gotten lucky.

He hadn’t though, which was why tonight was so important.

Caius tip-toed through the room, pausing only long enough to pick up his shoes at the door. He’d put them on once he’d made it outside. He opened the door just enough to slide his body through the gap, and then quickly spun on his heel to soften the door closing.

It was dark outside, and wet. Raining. It was always raining. By the time he got where he was headed he’d probably look like a drowned mabari. He hadn’t stopped to grab a cloak; wasn’t one to grab, other than Neve’s. And she’d noticed if she woke to a damp cloak, he was certain.

Caius slipped on his shoes and headed swiftly out to the road. They’d said not to be seen, not to draw attention. So he kept to the shadows, using the darkness to hide himself as he went closer to the docks.

Nothing reputable happens after working hours near the docks, he heard his mother pronounce in his mind. You’ve no business being there.

He wasn’t sure he’d had much business being anywhere else, though. What was there to lose?

He crept down rough hewn step, hoping be was keeping them light enough, and then kept his body near to the rock face until he’d reached the tunnel entrance he was looking for.

Elek was already there, and nodded. Caius hadn’t know with certainty the younger boy would show but he wasn’t surprised either.

“So.” They both started and spun to face the voice. A man, older than them but younger than Caius had expected stood on a ledge above them. “You two think you have what it takes to be Threads.”

But, despite that.. Dream didn't want to let go. He didn't want to let go of his brother. Not again. Never again. Dream doesn't have a lot of regrets. He only carries the burden of one.

And that was the loss of his brother on that fateful day.

Dream didn't mind that.. he was hated by the village. He didn't mind how he was disabled by a few of the residents.

Dream truly couldn't care less about them.

He sighed, peering up at the leaves of their tree. Their mother. Although.. Dream wasn't sure if this Nightmare considered her a mother. He's never heard him refer to her as such..

It was starting to become late. The once blue sky settled into a more orange hue as the sun was setting.

Dream wondered where Nightmare was. He should have been back already. Did he get into trouble? Dream hopes not. He really hopes not. Nightmare had been with him ever since the.. incident. It was the first time he left Dream's side and it made him so restless and anxious.

Was this how his brother used to feel when waiting for him? He's never had to be the one on standby. Dream would leave, then come home, and his brother would be there. It was comforting. To have someone to return to.. he took advantage of that comfort. Dream didn't appreciate what he had then.

It's torturous being the one to wait. Dream hadn't even thought of how his brother felt waiting. To sit here, to be constantly on the lookout for even a glimpse of his brother... it was hard. Dream didn't realize how hard it would be.

Dream just.. wanted Nightmare here so badly. He knows he should be more patient. This Nightmare was beloved here, he wouldn't be 'mysteriously' harmed like his original brother. His arrival should be more than anticipated but Dream feels like somehow it's less and less probable with each passing minute.

He was so worried. Dream didn't know what was going on in that village. What if someone was hurting Nightmare? Dream didn't care about what happened to him but he couldn't bear the thought of his brother being hurt.

Dream was about to stand up and head into the village but as he turned the corner of the tree.. he saw someone approaching. It was hard to make out the figure. It was dark now and especially given his... other eye, or rather..lack thereof. Simply put, Dream couldn't see all that well.

Dream decided that it may be better to just sit down and wait. If it was Nightmare, then he'll obviously stay. If not, Dream will run to the village to avoid being hurt prior to his search for his brother.

Luckily, Dream hadn't any need to run. He gazes up at the figure, his eye drawn to the familiar purple. "Ah.." Dream felt like crying. He didn't think he would be so.. emotional about Nightmare finally coming home.

"..Dream? What's wrong?" Nightmare asked quietly, kneeling down in front of Dream. He carefully cradles his brother's face, very mindful of his.. injury.

If Dream wasn't crying before.. he most certainly was now.

Dream whimpers, placing his hands over Nightmare's own. "Y-You were gone.. s-sso long..." He replied brokenly, tears streaming down his face now.

Dream felt pathetic. He was technically centuries older than Nightmare. But here he was. Crying. Like a baby.

"Oh.. oh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be gone so long." Nightmare apologized, pulling Dream into a hug. His voice was soft when speaking to Dream. Like Dream was fragile. Like one word spoken too harshly would break Dream.

That wasn't far from the truth.

Dream only felt more guilty and pathetic when Nightmare apologized. Dream didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve any sort of apology.

"S'okay.." Dream mumbled, nuzzling into Nightmare's chest. He liked the way his brother's arms were wrapped around him. It felt..incredibly loving.

"It's not okay.. I shouldn't have left you now that you're.."

"..Disabled?" He wasn't sure if that was the word his brother was looking for. It might have just been better to say 'hurt.'

"...I.. yes."

Nightmare felt ashamed of himself, it showed on his face. Dream didn't like that expression. Nightmare took a deep breath, his hand moving to rub Dream's back—promptly distracting him from his previous thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I truly should not have left you for that long."

"It's okay.."

"It's not, Dream. What if someone else had come here? What if someone had come to hurt you again while I wasn't here to protect you? What if someone had ki—..."

The words Nightmare wanted to speak seem to have died in his throat.

Dream stared at his brother, watching how his face scrunched up as he tried not to cry. Tears building up in his eyes and slowly rolling down his cheeks. Nightmare was avoiding his gaze, looking down at his lap as he sniffled.

It was at this moment that Dream had a realization.

Nightmare was scared to lose him too.

It never occured to Dream before. He never thought that Nightmare might have been just as afraid of leaving him alone as Dream was. That if Nightmare had let go of Dream's hand for one second..he might be gone. Forever.

Dream didn't think of it.

He's spent so long missing Nightmare that.. he never thought he could be missed too. Dream was so grateful to have this surreal chance that he didn't care what might become of him. He didn't recognize how Nightmare might have felt if he lost him. If one day he came back and Dream wasn't there anymore.

"Oh.. oh. Night.." Dream cups his brother's face with his hands, just like he had done to him earlier. "You don't need to cry.. I'm right here." Dream would always be here.

The strong facade that Nightmare had been putting up before immediately began to crumble at those words.

Nightmare holds Dream's body even closer to his, hiding his face in Dream's neck. His form was trembling like a leaf in the wind. Dream's hands moved to rub his brother's back, seeing as he couldn't cup his face anymore.

Nightmare's cries were soft, barely audible. It ached Dream's soul. It made him want to cry too.

But he had to be strong, for Nightmare.

Nightmare's cries ceased after only a few minutes. Dream was going to tell him he could cry more but he was brought down onto the grass after Nightmare pulled away.

"N-Nighty??" Dream was so confused… why was Nightmare essentially pinning him to the ground?

Nightmare's face seemed displeased and Dream hadn't even a moment to question it before their positions were flipped. Nightmare was now laying on the grass beneath them and Dream was laying right on top of him.

"Ahm.."

"This is better." Nightmare said with a tender smile, kissing Dream's cheek. It made Dream's face flush. He still was not used to the affection.. not when he wasn't a sobbing mess, at least.

Dream hums, his eye boring into Nightmare's own two. Maybe he should..

"..You know I love you?"

Nightmare blinked, a snort escaping him. His hand went up to cover his mouth as he laughed.

Well, Dream felt a bit offended.

He pouts, "Why are you laughing?"

"I-I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at you. I swear. You just.. caught me by surprise." Nightmare reassures, petting Dream's little head.

"I love you too, Dream." Nightmare's smile made Dream so.. sentimental. He loved his brother's smile so dearly. Dream wanted to protect that smile.

"..You know I won't ever leave you, right?"

It wasn't simply a statement. It was a promise. Nightmare would never lose him. Dream would never lose Nightmare. Their fears and anxieties will remain as just that. They would never come to fruition.

"..I know."

Nightmare was smiling at him, his face still flushed from his earlier sobbing session. The response had Dream.. incredibly relieved. Dream was glad Nightmare knew. He needed to know that Dream was always here for him.

Dream couldn't help but grin. His brother truly was far, far too precious for his own good. Dream leans forward, kissing his Nightmare's forehead.

"Good, don't forget that."

"I won't."

~~~

I was lowkey in a drunken haze as I was writing this. I started then somehow ended up here.. hope it was good tho!! :3

He did not like the way that Nightmare was looking at him. That half-lidded, almost coy appraisal made his hackles raise, although he did his level best to ignore it and continue his work.

"I've been pondering how your magic works," Nightmare drew Baggs' attention back to himself the instant it forcibly left.

"I've no doubt you have," Baggs returned airily, focusing on his work rather than the uneasy feeling that his benefactor's attention presently inflicted.

"How does a human trait bond with monster magic in order to create an entirely new type? If we consider how perseverance affects the soul normally, it creates the ability to restrict movement to only a few avenues. With the holding ability of patience, to force damage unless one is completely still, it makes a certain amount of poetic sense. Restricted and forced to remain still or suffer the consequences."

He feigned disinterest, but Baggs was actively listening. He'd thought about this a number of times and come to the same conclusion Nightmare was approaching; the latent patience in his system attached to the foreign perseverence and crafted a new magic that utilized traits from both. The stillness of patience and the rigidity of perseverance literally swirled together to create his unique brand of magic. Since both traits affected the soul and its movement, it was little wonder it leeched into affecting the mind as well.

"Not to mention the almost Determination-level of focus it grants-- it's more than evident in the way that yours is more pink than purple. It dances a fine edge that I'm sure very few can escape."

"If you are getting at something, sir, it would behoove you to get to it rather than waste my time." There were rare occasions Baggs felt comfortable in pushing his boundaries with Nightmare. This was one of them. Nightmare was actively distracting the doctor from his work, and Baggs was already irritated and verging on overtired again. When Nightmare had initially shown up, he'd assumed it was to herd him to bed... but no. The Guardian of Negativity had simply stayed and watched. Baggs thought he might, perhaps, be watching his work for a while, until he saw how frequently Nightmare was watching him specifically.

"Oh my, we are getting cranky, aren't we?" Nightmare cooed in a voice thick with amusement, "I've a point, doctor, but it bears explanation."

Baggs leveled his best unimpressed, expectant stare at Nightmare, who only smiled serenely at his underling.

"And that explanation is...?" Baggs prompted, sitting down at his desk to transcribe his notes for the evening.

(He subtly checked the access records to make sure that no one had come snooping while he wasn't here and is relieved to see he has nothing to worry about today.)

"I believe I've broken down the specific way your magic resonates." Nightmare took up a seat near his desk, "As everyone's magic passes on their own unique wavelength, yours, likely by nature of perseverance, acclimates quickly to an individual's unique magical wavelength. It's how you can seize control-- you work instantly on the same individual wavelength... or more accurately, your magic attunes everyone else to yours. I have seen how you can command an entire room at once. Each soul in that room attunes to you."

Baggs paused and steepled his fingers.

"Those more in control of their magic and more attuned to their souls have more capability to resist that call." He hummed, "And the presence of Determination makes it easier to maintain one's own unique magical resonance. Interesting hypothesis."

"Indeed." Nightmare nodded sagely, smile still eerily composed, "And any good hypothesis should be tested to ensure its validity, wouldn't you agree?"

Baggs eyed him out of the corner of his socket.

"What are you getting at?" He said slowly, not entirely certain he liked the tone Nightmare took up.

"I've a very fine control over my magic, doctor Baggs." Nightmare stood, and Baggs shifted back minutely, "So much so that I can control the resonance of my soul consciously. It makes cloaking my presence to those who know it very easy. It is how my brother oft times does not know something it transpiring in another world until it is too late."

He was putting on theatrics. Baggs resisted the urge to roll his eyelights and elected not to comment. Best to let Nightmare get it out of his system.

"I've a theory that my control is even fine enough to force other souls onto the same resonance."

"Like my magic does, in theory."

"Yes, precisely."

Baggs screws up his mouth.

"You want to test this theory."

"I do."

There is a very heavy silence that follows, and Baggs finally breaks it after a moment with a callous snort and toss of his head.

"Go bother Killer with it."

"Oh, but doctor, where is the fun in that?"

Baggs did not like where this was going. He slowly pushed himself back from his desk to face Nightmare, scowling.

"No."

"What a pity, I'd assumed an academic like yourself would have welcomed the opportunity for hands-on research regarding your very unique ability, and to understand how it works better." Nightmare idly inspected his phalanges, "...Aside from the fact that I wasn't really asking."

Baggs was very suddenly no longer sitting in his chair-- he was struggling against tentacles, kicking his legs fruitlessly and squirming to no avail.

"Unhand me!" He barked, and Nightmare only chuckled.

"What ever is the matter, doctor? You trust me, do you not?"

He was beginning to rethink that stance.

"Besides, I would never do anything to hurt you. That much you can be completely assured of."

Baggs quick kicking his feet and frowned.

"Beyond all of that, it is high time that you cease your work for the evening."

He glanced sideways at his computer screen, squinting faintly at it. He'd saved... and if the computer just went to sleep it would require a password to get back into.

Something... something strange squirmed against his soul, and Baggs recoiled with a bark of indignation. He tried fruitlessly to get free again, but the more he struggled, the more it felt like something was trying to work its way in.

A heavy feeling settled on his shoulders, and he struggled against it, shaking his head fitfully.

It did nothing. The feeling of something working its way past his defenses, to the very innermost parts of his mind and soul was pervasive... But at the same time, strangely... not unwelcome?

Was this truly what it was like?

Struggling grew more and more difficult as his limbs began to respond more slowly. His head felt heavy, difficult to keep aloft, and when it tipped to the side, it was righted with a tentacle.

While Nightmare's eyelight didn't swirl and pulse like his own, it did seem very difficult to look away from. It held an unearthly, beguiling light that seemed to leak into the farthest reaches of his mind and quiet the relentless buzzing of his thoughts.

...It felt kind of nice to not think for a bit.

Nightmare chuckled softly. Baggs tried to return some witticism about his self-satisfaction, but nothing came but a weak, feeble moan that tailed higher at the end in almost a questioning manner.

"Hm. That hypothesis seems rather firmly proven correct." Nightmare observed airily, "And an interesting new utilization of my own magic. Really, I ought to thank you. Had we not met, I doubt that I would have thought to try this."

The words sunk heavily into Baggs' mind, followed by the feeling of both amusement and genuine gratitude. Nightmare might be having fun toying around with him, but he was, at the very least, truly thankful for the insight.

Still, it was getting harder and harder to keep his sockets open. This was not an unfamiliar feeling-- He was quite used to the sensation of Nightmare forcing his unruly magic into submission so that he could sleep. It was slightly different now, though. His magic did not try to retaliate. It complied easily-- almost as easily as Nightmare himself carried Baggs away from his lab and to his quarters.

He tried again to vocalize the faintest flicker of a thought, but it was snuffed out, and the words came out as a quiet, nonsensical mumble. The flash of unease that accompanied the realization that his acute mind was succumbing to numbness lasted only a moment before he was hushed-- hushed in the same way he so often hushed his own patients-- and then all was quiet.

"There, now. Nothing to fret yourself over." Nightmare's voice was a low, sweet lull, and Baggs finally lost the fight with his sockets, letting them fall closed with little resistance. The gentle sway of Nightmare's gait was pacifying as well, and he teetered on the edge of consciousness, only rousing slightly when he felt the softness of his mattress beneath him. He tried to stir out of it, but felt a tentacle smooth almost soothingly over the top of his skull.

Sirius sways a little as he rises from his seat. The flute of champagne clasped loosely between his fingertips, obviously, isn’t his first. By the looks of it, it’s not his second or third, either. 

“May I propose a toast?” He slurs loudly, hitting the flute dramatically with the side of his butter knife. As if they’re in some sort of muggle film. The sound rings out noisily throughout the venue, catching most everyone’s attention.  

Regulus would be more than happy to shut that particular request down, had it not been for the affectionate smile planted firmly on Sirius’ face. His brother looked thoroughly excited, and even he didn’t haven’t it in his heart to stamp that out. 

James looks to him for an answer, brow raised in silent questioning. He gives him a slight nod in return. There’s nothing that could possibly ruin his day, not even a drunk Sirius.

“Go for it, mate.” James says, grinning over at Sirius. 

“As most of you already know, three years ago I married the love of my life–” He starts, eyes shifting down at Remus before he’s back to addressing the room as a whole. “That day, I thought to myself; this is my happiest moment… And while that’s still true, this is at least in the top ten.”  

Regulus rolls his eyes, though there’s no denying the grin he’s got his lips pulled up into. 

“How generous of you, Pads!” James yells, sarcasm dripping from his voice. 

“Anything for you, Jamie.” Sirius says with a wink. 

“Okay, on a serious note. You both went through so much to get to this day, I’m so fucking happy for you two. I want to wish you both many great years to come.” He adds, holding his glass out to the rest of the guests. “And, I just wanted to tell you, Reg, that James said he’d name one of his kids after me and I’m holding you both to that promise. –Cheers to the happy couple!” 

James snorts, raising his own glass in the air before drinking a sip of it in unison with Sirius. 

“Thanks, Siri. But, there’s not a chance in hell that’s happening.” Regulus says. 

“Y’know, James said he’d name a kid after me too.” Remus cuts in with a grin, drinking down his own champagne before setting the empty glass back on the table in front of him. 

“Me too.” Peter says, chuckling to himself.

Regulus looks at James with furrowed brows, who just shrugs.