Summary: Dream gets in big trouble with his brother and the gang find out a little unknown fact about said little skeleton.
“Cross . . .” Horror said in a low, but level tone. “I said get them . . . not eat them . . .”
The monochrome skeleton froze, scrunching his shoulders. He removed his fist from inside the bag of chocolate chips as quietly as possible and quickly swallowed the lump of semi-sweet goodness. Only then did he step out of the pantry and into the kitchen.
“I wasn’t eating them, it just took me a sec to find them,” he huffed, walking over to the counter where Dream and Horror stood, his fist hidden inconspicuously behind his back.
The latter turned around and stared with a lidded-socket at the chocolate smear on the corner of his mouth.
“Just give ‘em here . . .” he said and held out his hand.
Cross reluctantly placed the bag in Horror’s palm, receiving a satisfied grunt for his trouble, and walked over to where Dream stood. The little skeleton between them looked up and fidgeted excitedly in place. Smirking, Cross unclenched his hidden fist, revealing the chocolatey stowaways.
Dream grinned even wider as Cross poured the chips into his cupped gloves and immediately stuffed them in his mouth.
“Barely any left . . .” Horror mumbled, emptying the bag into his bowl.
“Well I can run and go get some more. It’s no big deal,” he said and added with a wink at Dream, “you can never have too much chocolate, right?”
“Right!” the child repeated with a matter-of-fact nod.
“It’s okay . . . don’t bother . . .” said Horror, scooping out a ball of cookie dough.
Cross shrugged. “Fine. But I still think we should use two bags next time. Oh! And maybe add some-”
“Dream! Come to your room this instant!” screamed a deep, booming voice.
The tiny skeleton gasped and darted under Cross’s long scarf before either adult had a chance to react.
Cross glanced over his shoulder. “Dream, what-”
“Shhh!” Dream interupted, peeking out his skull, “Don’t let Nighty know I’m here!”
“I won’t,” he assured him, “but tell me what happened. What did you do?”
The little child gazed at the floor.
“I-”
“Dream, I know you can hear me. Come here,” the older sibling commanded.
But instead, Dream stiffened and huddled even closer to him. That’s when it clicked.
“Don’t tell me you broke the window . . .”
Dream nodded, pulling the scarf around him tighter.
Cross sighed. “Really, buddy? How many times have you done this now? Three?”
“Four . . .” Horror clarified to Dream's dismay.
“Four times!?” he exclaimed, causing the child to flinch. “I don’t understand- how do you keep breaking one window?”
“I don’t know! It- it’s just a stupid window . . .” Dream muttered sourly into the scarf.
“If you’re not here in three seconds, I’m going to drag you here myself!” Nightmare threatened, sounding very close to carrying out said threat.
“Yeah . . . maybe you should try telling him that,” said Cross, staring anxiously at the door.
“B-but he’s really mad!” Dream insisted.
“One . . . ”
“Then you better go talk to him before he gets madder,” he argued.
The child looked up with wide, pleading eyelights. “Can you go do it, Crossy? Please? I can- I’ll give you my cookie!”
“Two . . .”
“Two! I’ll give you two cookies!”
Cross folded his arms. “Sorry buddy, I can’t do it. You’re the one who broke it. Just tell him it was an accident. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“ . . . once he’s cooled off,” he added mentally.
“Three.”
Dream shrunk into himself, trying desperately to think of a way out of this that didn’t involve confronting his angry (and as a result, scary) twin, and coming up with nothing.
“But- but what if-”
“DREAMSCAPE!”
The tiny skeleton squeaked and suddenly bolted out from under the scarf.
“Coming!” he shouted as he disappeared through the door.
Cross blinked, then slowly turned towards Horror, who looked just as confused and shocked as him.
“Did he just . . . is the kid’s name really Dreamscape?"
The other made an “I guess so” noise and went back to his bowl, scraping the remaining cookie dough off the sides.
“Do you think the others know?” Cross added, already pulling out his phone.
Horror handed him the dough-covered spatula. “Probably not . . .”
“Heh heh, perfect,” he chuckled, sticking the spoon in his mouth. “Killer’s gonna flip when he finds out.”
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The noise was louder now, but he ignored it and looked up to see he was almost at the end of the hallway.
Dream grinned- he was gonna make it!
Now all he had to do was go around the corner and down toward the TV room and then he-
“Dream . . .” a deep, but unmistakable voice whispered angrily behind him.
He jolted with a gasp and was about to turn, when he felt the familiar feeling of a tentacle wrap under his arms and pick him up.
“. . . what are you doing awake and out of your room?” Nightmare demanded, glaring down at him.
Dream frowned, kicking his little feet. He had been so close! He could have made it if Nightmare hadn’t snuck up on him, but he didn’t even hear his door open- oh wait. He can do that shadow thing now, can’t he.
(He wished he could do that- then he’d be even stealthier!)
“You’re hungry?” his brother echoed, the half-lidded socket telling Dream he wasn’t buying it.
Still, he nodded eagerly, “Uh huh.”
“You just ate two hours ago.”
Oh . . . right.
“Well I’m thirsty too,” he argued.
“Really?”
“Really!”
Nightmare scrutinized at him a moment longer, then let out a long, heavy sigh, pinching his nasal ridge.
Dream’s smile faltered a little at that. His brother looked so tired all the time, and now he wasn’t getting any sleep because of him! Dream wanted to hug him, but settled for hugging the squishy appendage instead.
“I’m sorry I woke you up . . .” he said sadly. “I tried to be really, really quiet!”
“Are you serious?” said Nightmare, pointing at his feet. “You’re telling me you couldn’t hear those things?”
“I mean, they’re not that loud,” he mumbled, swinging a leg.
“Yes, they are. If you were trying to be stealthy, then why for stars sake are you wearing them?”
Dream beamed brightly. “Because Crossy got them for-”
“-shhhh!”
“ . . . because Crossy got them for me!” he repeated quietly. “So now I’m gonna wear them forever.”
“Forever?”
Dream nodded.
“For-ever!”
His brother looked . . . not exactly happy at that.
In fact, he hadn’t been very excited the first time Dream showed him his shoes. All he said was a short “nice” and then sternly told him not to come in his office while he was working today. Something about “needing peace and quiet to focus”.
Which was fine- Dream wanted to go show everybody else anyway.
Rory didn’t say anything. He just stared at them with a weird look and then left. Dream didn’t see him until dinner after that. And when he showed Kiki his slippers, he got mad! He said he was upset he hadn’t been there when Nightmare saw them, although Dream wasn’t sure why.
Only Dusty really liked them. He chuckled (well, it was two chuckles, but that’s one more than normal) and also made a few jokes like, “what’s got you in such a fowl mood, buddy?” and “don’t they just quack you up?”. Kiki didn’t laugh, but Crossy did, and so Dream did too (despite not knowing what was so funny).
He was just happy to have such super cool slippers to wear every single day!
Nightmare sighed again.
“Fine, have it your way,” he muttered, finally setting him on the floor.
Dream smiled and bounced on his heels, making his slippers quack, but after a stern look from his brother he stopped and stood still.
“Now go back to bed, and I’ll bring you some water.”
Dream pouted. “But I don’t want water!”
Nightmare crossed his arms. “Then you aren’t really thirsty.”
“Awww, come on Nighty,” he whined.
“Don’t “Nighty” me. Do you want water or not?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” said Dream, kicking his foot with a quack.
Nightmare shuffled forward, covering a yawn with one hand, and patting his head with the other as he walked by.
“Alright, go get in bed . . .”
Perking back up, Dream sprinted off towards his room.
QUACK!QUACK!QUACK!QUACK!QUACK!QUACK!QUACK!QUACK!
“Dream!”
He slid to a stop and looked behind him.
“Shhhh!” Nightmare hissed, glancing at the doors next to him.
“Sorry!” he whispered-yelled.
His brother simply rolled his eyelight as he turned away.
Dream continued walking again, making sure to be very, very quiet this time.
It was hard to walk slowly though- He was just so excited!
Sure, his well-executed plan to stay up and sneak into the TV room to play the movie everybody watched without him because he “wasn’t old enough yet” had failed thanks to his brother. But now that Nighty was awake and getting him a drink, he can read him the bedtime story he missed!
So after magically finding your blog, then finding your story, then binge reading your entire story (including at work, cuz it's that good!), I thought of a super cute scenario for this weird family. How would each of the boys react to little Dream getting sick? I'm a sucker for fluffy comfort stuff like that :)
Well do I have some good news for you, because I am a sucker for fluffy comfort as well! So here's a little drabble I wrote for your suggested scenario. Hope you enjoy!
Dust slouched in his chair, one arm dangling over the back of it, while the other rested out on the table. He flipped his last card back and forth between his fingers, teasing the other skeleton to try and peek. But Horror kept his glowing eyelight fixed firmly on the full deck in front of him, refusing to play Dust’s little game. It was taking every bit of mind power to concentrate on winning the game he was already playing.
Unfortunately for him, that concentration snapped at the sound of little feet shuffling their way.
Both of them looked up and glanced over in time to see their suspicions confirmed as Dream stepped into view. They immediately knew something was wrong when the young skeleton didn’t energetically bounce toward them and greet them with a cheerful “hello”. Rather, he stopped and leaned silently on the door frame, staring back at them with a petulant expression.
“Hey kid. What’s up?” Dust drawled, pretending not to notice Horror slip a card or three under the table.
Dream gripped the corner of his cape to his chest. “Do you know when Nightmare is coming home?”
“Soon . . .” said Horror.
“Is there something you need?” Dust added.
Dream furrowed his brow at the floor. “I . . . I feel really bad . . .”
The hooded skeleton crooked a finger at Dream.
“Come over here.”
As the child obeyed and walked across the room, Dust studied him closely with a sharpened eyelight.
Slow, sluggish steps.
Flushed golden cheeks.
Fuzzy, unfocused eyelights.
“Kiddo’s got a fever,” he said, his lazy grin thinning.
Horror held out his hand toward Dream and, when he was close enough, pressed the back of it to his forehead.
The one-eyed skeleton stiffened. “You’re right . . .”
“What’s a fever?” Dream asked, his eyelights darting to each of them anxiously.
“It’s what happens when your magic is out of whack. Makes you feel all hot and stuffy. We all get one once in a while,” Dust answered.
“I thought . . . they didn’t get sick . . .” Horror muttered to him.
He shrugged. “Must be the you-know-what.”
“I’m scared, Rory,” whimpered Dream, drawing their attention back to him. “I- I want Nighty.”
The moment the older skeleton saw his wobbling eyelight, he scooped the child into his arms, letting him burrow his face in his jacket while patting his skull gently.
“It’s okay . . . you’re fine . . .”
Dust pushed his chair back and threw his card on the table. “I’ll go find medicine. You get him to bed.”
Horror nodded, and in the blink of a socket, his companion was gone.
Cradling Dream tightly to his chest, he got to his feet and headed for his the sick babybone’s room. Horror was tempted to teleport as well, but he didn’t know if it would aggravate his feverish condition, so he opted for the slower, safer route of walking. Dream certainly didn’t protest, and only clung tighter to Horror, taking comfort in his firm but gentle hold.
At last he entered the room, cautiously side-stepping around the mess of scattered toys and books in his path. He made it to the bed in one piece and, pulling back the star-printed quilt, laid the small skeleton on his pillow. Dream groaned at the movement, but kept still as Horror tucked the fuzzy fabric around his shoulders.
“Stay little chef . . . gonna get some water . . .” he said.
Dream nodded and watched Horror leave the room, closing the door behind him.
He sunk into his pillow and squeezed his sockets shut, hoping it would make the pounding in his skull stop. When it didn’t, Dream let out another groan and turned over on his side. He laid still for a few seconds, but continued to feel uncomfortable, so he turned over on his other side.
Only that wasn’t any better.
Dream kept squirming and twisting under the covers, trying to find the right position, but no matter what he did, the yucky feeling continued growing worse. Every bone in his body felt too hot, like something was smothering them. He started to kick whatever it was, trying to get it off him.
After struggling for a minute, Dream managed to shove the blanket Horror had wrapped him in off and felt it tumblr to the floor. He lay there panting a little as the cool air washed over his now free bones. The itchy feeling was fading, but it wasn’t enough. Sitting up, he pulled off his gloves and boots, unlatched his cape, and chucked the items to the ground.
Dream then fell back on his pillow and breathed a sigh of relief.
He was still too hot, but at least it was more bearable without the extra layers suffocating him. He wished he could do something about his headache, but he figured he would have to wait for either Dust or Horror to help him with that. Dream flopped over on his side again, thinking if he went to sleep, it would make his brother come home faster.
But before he could doze off, a knock on his door jolted him wide awake.
“Nightmare?” called Dream, pushing himself upright.
The door opened. “Sorry squirt, it’s just me and Crossy.”
“Oh . . . hi,” he said, slumping over as Killer and Cross approached him.
“You doing okay buddy?” the latter asked him.
Dream shook his skull. “No . . . ‘m too hot and my head hurts . . .”
“Tch’, it’s just a little fever, you’ll get over it,” Killer scoffed, plopping down on the mattress beside him.
Cross folded his arms. “Funny hearing you say that. Every time you catch a cold, you act like the entire multiverse is ending.”
“Shut up, I do not!” the other shot back.
Dream winced at the loud shout, causing both “adults” to cease their bickering.
Still, Cross couldn’t resist rolling his eyelights and adding a sarcastic, “Sure . . .”
When Killer didn’t respond, the monochrome skeleton bent over and gathered up the discarded clothing, deciding to do something useful (unlike his lounging companion.)
“Is Nighty home yet?” Dream asked, looking up at Killer.
His scowl softened. “Not yet, but we sent him a text, so I’m sure he’ll be here any minute now.”
“I hope he hurries,” the child said sullenly, staring at his boney fingers.
All of sudden, he felt a funny tickle in his nasal cavity. He scrunched his face as the tingling sensation increased and squinted his sockets. Then, before he could stop it, he sneezed so hard his little body shook.
“Ugh,” said Killer, grimacing at the glob of magic hanging down Dream’s face.
He looked around for a tissue or something, but of course there wasn’t any of that around. So instead, he chose the only other option left and grabbed the end of Cross’s scarf while the skeleton had his back to him. Killer wiped the kid’s face and smeared the sticky magic onto it.
“Wha- Hey!” Cross yelled, snatching his stolen scarf. “I just washed this!”
“Well it’s snot my fault there was nothing else to use.”
He stared deadpan at the black-eyed skeleton, unamused by the disgusting, albeit good pun.
“I’m sorry, Crossy . . .” said Dream, hunching his shoulders.
“It’s fine buddy, don’t worry,” he sighed, tossing the scarf away. “Like he said, it’s snot your fault.”
The pun went over Dream’s head, but Killer got it and glared up at him. “Really Cross? That was lame.”
Cross ignored the comment and smiled smugly as he picked the kids' comforter off the floor.
“Here,” he said, hanging it out to him.
Dream recoiled and shook his head. “I don’t want it. It’s too hot.”
“Well, it’s not good for you to be cold when you’re sick,” Cross explained, searching the room for a solution.
He then spied a blue sheet being used as a mini tent and quickly untied the corners from around the chair legs.
“Try this,” said Cross, draping the light fabric over the hesitant child.
Dream gripped the edges of it tightly, prepared to throw it back off, but when the sheet settled over him, he didn’t feel the itchy burn like he did earlier.
“I like this one,” he said, smiling up at him.
“Heh, I thought you would,” Cross smirked, side-glancing over at the other skeleton.
Killer huffed, “Whatever. He would have been fine without it. He’s a tough little tyke. Ain’t that right, Dream?”
He reached over and half-heartedly noogied the small skeleton, careful to not be too rough with him.
Still, it did the trick and Dream weakly giggled, “He he, y-yeah, right!”
Killer grinned to see the small, but genuine smile back on his the little squirt’s face.
“Alright, enough you two,” said Dust, sauntering into the room with Horror close behind.
“We were just keeping him company,” Killer said innocently.
“Back up and let me give him his medicine,” he ordered, waving him off the bed. “Unless you wanna do it.”
Killer instantly jumped up and walked over to Cross, holding up his hands. “He’s all yours.”
Taking his spot on the bed, Dust uncorked the medicine bottle and poured the thick blue liquid into a large spoon.
“Say ah,” he instructed, lowering the silverware towards his mouth.
“Ahh!” sang Dream as he opened his mouth wide.
Dust slipped the spoon in and out as quickly as possible, before pressing his mouth shut with a knuckle.
“Swallow.”
Dream puffed out his cheeks, his face souring at the bitter flavor, but after a moment he sucked it up and gulped the nasty liquid down.
“Good job,” he chuckled as he screwed the lid back on.
“Blegh!” Dream shuddered. “That tastes awful!”
“Drink this . . . it’ll help . . .” Horror said, handing him a glass.
The child grabbed it and eagerly sipped the water, his body relaxing as it dripped down his hot, dry throat.
When he drank about half, he stopped and lifted the cup back to Horror, only for the older skeleton to nudge it back.
“All of it . . .” he told him gently. “Gotta stay hydrated . . .”
Dream didn’t know what hydrated meant, but it sounded important, so he finished drinking the remaining water.
“Thank you,” he said politely as Horror took the empty glass from him.
Pulling the sheet up to his face, Dream laid back down and snuggled into his pillow.
“Tired, bud?” asked Cross
“Mmhmm . . .” he yawned.
As much as Dream enjoyed the attention he was receiving, it was getting harder and harder to keep his sockets open.
“Come on guys,” said Killer, walking away while motioning for the others to follow.
Cross and Horror smiled sympathetically at Dream before joining the other skeleton, but Dust lingered behind for another moment and rubbed his shoulder
“Get some rest,” he said softly, standing up to leave.
“Okay Dusty . . .” Dream mumbled, the lids of his sockets drooping.
When he was finally alone, the tiny skeleton yawned again and cupped his hand next to his face. Despite how uncomfortable and sore his bones felt, exhaustion eventually overcame the discomfort and lulled the child into a restless sleep. Within twenty minutes, Dream had tossed and turned so much that he tangled the sheet around all four of his sprawled out limbs.
Nightmare would have found the sight amusing if it wasn’t for the pained frown on his sibling’s face.
Silently, he made his way over to Dream and began unwrapping the sheet. Carefully, he maneuvered the little limbs into a more comfortable sleeping position, trying not to disturb his sick brother’s rest. But despite his efforts, the jostling still ended up waking Dream.
“Ngh . . . Ni-ghty?” he croaked, squinting up at him.
Nightmare fluffed the sheet and tucked it under his arms. “Yes, it’s me. I’m here now.”
“You took forever,” Dream pouted, stretching out his arms.
“Sorry about that,” he said as his brother pulled his bigger hand up to his face and nuzzled it. “I came as quickly as I could.”
He made the mental note to give Ink a good reason to puke his vile vomit next time for keeping him from Dream.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, running a thumb over his flushed cheek.
It didn’t burn like it used to when his magic wasn’t being severely dampened, but it was still too similar for Nightmare’s liking.
“It’s okay Dream, you’ll feel better soon,” Nightmare said calmly.
Inside though his soul was aching at the state of his little brother’s pitiful condition. He felt a pang of guilt as well, knowing he was indirectly responsible for it, since it was the potion that left Dream susceptible to illness. He was thankful it was only a mild fever and not something worse.
Not to mention his brother would recover quickly, thanks to his boys taking such good care of him.
Dream gripped his hand tighter. “Please stay with me . . .”
Nightmare smiled softly.
“Of course, brother,” he said, sitting down next to him.
Dream’s dim eyelights shone a tad bit brighter to hear the goopy skeleton call him that.
“Thanks, Nighty.”
“Just go to sleep,” the older skeleton whispered. “You’ll feel better afterward.”
Curling a cooling tendril around Dream’s sweaty forehead, Nightmare began rubbing small circles up and down his little back. While he couldn’t force his twin to fall asleep, he remembered the old ways he used to soothe him back to dreamland. And sure enough, after a few minutes, Dream’s breathing evened out, a peaceful expression resting on his face.
Nightmare slowly stood up, leaving his brother to rest and recover.
He didn’t see the slight stirring under the sheet, or the hazy eyelight peeking up after him.
As soon as he was gone, Dream smiled sleepily. Even after Nightmare left, the refreshing feeling that his cool and calming touches had given him stayed behind. And even better was the warm feeling in his soul. It wasn’t hot and itchy like the feeling in his bones. It was nice, like the nice feeling he got when his brother and his friends hugged him.
Dream couldn’t wait to get better so he could give all five skeletons the biggest and bestest hug he could.
