Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sometimes, life just throws curve balls at you when you least expect it to.

… like right now, standing over the absolute mess that snot nose brat made while throwing a tantrum. Two overturned cups of coffee, now staining the floor with a caffeinated mess. Not only dealing with two spilled cups of coffee, But a hysterical father shouting in your ear about his precious son's poor hand and third-degree burns, he crys..... The little shit doesn't even have a mark on his hand.

But that's the reality of working in a bustling city coffee shop, especially during the chaotic rush hours of the day. You’ve been working at this coffee shop for a few years now. Since you’ve moved to the city actually. You get used to the daily spills, noises, smells, and tired belligerent parents who can't take care of their damn kids.

“I'm so sorry, sir! Is your son okay?”. You say in a worried tone, well, put on a worried tone. You can't bring yourself to care about the kid. Since he's done nothing but scream and shout until he's gotten his way.

“No he's not fuckin’ Okay! Can't you see his hand! What if he needs to go to the hospital you.. you'll be liable!!”. The man snarls at you, getting in your face and stopping you from cleaning the mess up.

This is new, though you've never had someone get in your face. Feeling the familiar bubble up of anxiety, you splutter and take a couple of steps back, eye narrowing at him. This bitch.... Before anything else can escalate, thankfully your co-worker steps in to deal with the angry customer. He gestures for you to go to the back to calm down, likely seeing the frustration on your face, and you do.

That's how your day went, dealing with customers and keeping your false peppy attitude despite the earlier confrontation. With a warning from your boss, Even though it’s not your fault the kid was over exited, and a few hours left of your late shift you finally get to go home.

You pull your apron off and pocket your name-tag, now in a sour mood from the confrontation earlier. Grabbing your bag and coat, and quickly making yourself a coffee for the journey home, You sigh and walk out from behind the counter. Just wanna get home and die on the couch...

“See ya later. Get home safe”. One of your co-worker’s says, despite the name tag on his chest you’ve never really been bothered to learn his name, Not out of impoliteness, you just hate you're job to much to care. Waving with a quick polite smile and nod you leave.

Finally fresh air, taking a deep breath and exhaling onto the cold winter air. The path you walk along is dark and kind of spooky. You tend to not like the later shifts due to this, the recent muggings in the area don’t put your mind at ease either….Cupping your coffee a little tighter than you need to, you walk a little quicker to your usual bus stop.

On the way to your usual bus stop, you watch some monsters walk by. Chatting among themselves and walking with one and other, There eyes briefly shift to you, glaring. You can hardly blame them though.

Its been a few months since monsters have resurfaced from there underground prison, apparently a kid freed them. Which was just as surprising as literal monsters coming up from a mountain....well it was just as surprising to you at-lest. There had been a fair few anti-monster protests that sprung from there sudden arrival, as-well as some violent attacks by anti-monster assholes. It makes you a little annoyed to think about, the poor fuckers just got to the surface and there already being attacked....that being said, the monsters aren't so innocent either. Apparently starting the war that got them locked up in the first place. But you aren't really sure whats true and whats not anymore. The amount of news stations and media saying there demons from hell. tch

you dont really get involved with politics...as along as your left alone you're content.

Finally you see your bus stop up ahead and sigh, the street lamps dim and flickering slightly. Once you get closer to the bus stop, you notice theres a dark figure there, holding a lighter in there hand. A hood covering up their face, wearing an old looking blue hoodie, hands in their black basketball shorts pockets. Smoke drifting from underneath the strangers hood, the smell of Tobacco and…dust? Coming from them. Strangely you notice a faint red glow coming from the strangers chest.

Tensing up and holding your coffee a tad bit tighter, you stop at a distance from the stranger. Fuck this…oh god this is where I die huh. You look forward pretending to ignore the stranger, drinking all your coffee in one go with shaky hands. For some reason, despite how dull they are, your instincts are telling you to RUN. But you being you, Curiosity gets the better of you, quickly take a side glance at the stranger......

......He's looking directly at you. A monster....he’s a skeleton monster. Eye sockets hollow, leaking some sort of black liquid down his cheeks and a... target? on his chest. That’s all you see before you whip around and face forwards. Now as stiff as a board. Finding the cars on the road a lot more interesting than the stranger behind you.

“Aye kid”. His voice is deep, hints of amusement in his tone, It cuts threw the mostly silent air. You can feel the smirk on his mouth.

A chill shoots right threw your spine, You were in a sour mood but now your nervous. You don’t turn around. Whether it’s out of fear or from how stiff you are right now, you stay very still. Trembling a little and not in the mood to talk to creepy men, you go to pull your phone out, pretend to text someone or maybe play one of those emergence tik toks of someone pretending to be on the phone with you, you have saved in your gallery. But a cold and boney hand on your shoulder stops you.

“you deaf or somethin’ kid?”. The strangers voice has a bit of a growl to it now, Not quite annoyed, Slightly mocking but...

Yup this is where you die.

"O-oh uh, hey....Can i help you?". You're voice is shaky and nervous, turning to face the stranger.....His hand doesn't leave your shoulder. The skeletons eye-sockets are crescent shaped, a grin almost splitting his face in half. He looks amused. The goopy black liquid trails down his face slowly....Is he upset? lost? "Oh, are you ok?".

The skeletons grin drops slightly in confusion, tilting his head slightly and finally letting go of your shoulder. Hes flicking the lighter open and closed, fidgeting with it. The clinking noise slightly annoying you.

"Your crying...Do you need help?". You explain, rummaging in your bag for a napkin, remembering putting it your bag a while ago. You feel tense and wildly uncomfortable with the situation. you are tired and quite frankly, feeling annoyed again.... But your not gonna sit there and not help someone who might need it, you feel a little more sympathetic for him since he's a monster, and well...monsters are not exactly liked at the moment. Some label your sympathy a weakness but theres already so much hate in the world. You dont help often so...Why not help now?

"...I ain't crying, heh. But I will take what a pretty lady offers me". 

yeah this is why you dont help

You give him a blank look, staring at him. His grin only getting wider as he winks at you, purposely grazing his fingers against yours as he takes the tissue, you inwardly cringe feeling bone on skin. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes you huff and Place the empty coffee cup onto the ground, stuffing your hands into your pockets. You eye him as he drys the black ooze from dripping down his cheeks with the napkin. The situation becoming a little awkward now.

He seems to notice your discomfort with his slightly flirty attitude but...doesn't care, In fact he looks more amused than anything else. "Thanks kid." He says, An easy grin plastered on his face, the black ooze drips down his cheeks once more, making you a little confused. Was there even a point in you giving him the napkin?  "So why you out here this late?".

His question sets off red flags in your mind, just incase you hold your keys between your knuckles in your pocket. Side eyeing the skeleton.

 A sudden jolt rips threw you, His sockets somehow feel like there looking straight threw you to your soul, his face blanks briefly, looking a little confused....you tremble a little.

"Waitin' for the bus." You grumble, really not liking this situation. "Why else would I be waiting at a bus stop".

The skeletons expression defaults back to laid back. He chuckles, Taking a drag from his cigarette...You...are not gonna question that for now. He blows the smoke away from you before shuffling his feet and huffing out another laugh.

"heh, Whats got you in a bad mood?" The skeleton raises a bone brow, again not questioning it, and starts to flick and fidget with his lighter again.

"Look I'm having a pretty shitty day okay? Im sorry if Im snappy or..or nervous or whatever." You grumble and start to feel a little embarrassed about being called out. 

He grins a little wider "eh s' fine. I expect this reaction from someone in a fellverse". Taking a long drag from his cigarette before extending his hand towards you, silently offering you a drag. You decline and manage to let a small appreciative smile grow on your face. "No, no thank you...But uh whats a fellverse?"

The skeleton nods in understanding and flicks some ash from his cigarette "dont worry about it, kid" He dismisses the question with a wave of his hand, making you frown in confusion. A sudden sharp laugh erupts from him making you jolt in alarm, he snickers and gestures to the coffee cup you placed on the ground. "The daily grind? sounds like a stripclub."

You blink in surprise and confusion until you cop he's gesturing to your coffee cup, letting a chuckle slip past your lips, you pick up the forgotten coffee cup and spin it around to look at the logo. You laugh a little louder. "phhff, oh my god I've never noticed that. h-hahah, its a coffee place i work at. The coffees mediocre at best but the atmosphere is nice". You'll have to tell some of your co-workers that one.

The skeleton snorts and takes the cup from your hand, turning over in his hands a couple times before looking back to you. "Coffees just mediocre huh? Well with a name like that I'd kinda expect it". He's tone a lot more playful than before.

"Hey Im no coffee connoisseur or nothing!-" you giggle slightly, his grin stretches upwards a tiny bit "-but i can say that this one kinda tastes like ass". 

The tension leaves your shoulders a little, feeling less on edge around the skeleton now that the situation feels more playful than threatening, your instincts around him are probably wrong anyways. They always are. He flicks his cigarette onto the ground and stomps on it, turning his attention to down the street behind him, before looking back at you.

"Well I better not take your word for it then". He says with a wink. You playfully roll your eyes at him and readjust your grip on your bag strap. A little cat paw charm dangles from the strap catching his eye(socket). Reaching forwards he grasps the charm and gives it a little squeeze. "cute". 

His gaze catches your attention, Its on you. Like he wants some sort of reaction from you. Like hes playing with you.

Hes closer to you now but you dont react, well negatively at lest. Raising an eyebrow at him you grin. "Do you usually grab at random woman's bags or just at mine?". That seems to amuse him and he lets go but doesn't step away from you. Lingering near you instead, you feel oddly small under his stare...

"hm, you said you worked at this coffee joint?". He holds the coffee cup up and shakes it around. his other hand resting in his hoodie pocket. "Would ya give me a free coffee if i stopped by?"

You roll your eyes again and shake your head, smiling. "I cant promise anything, got a pretty stingy boss," 

He huffs out a laugh and messes with the coffee cup before looking down the street once more. You follow his gaze, seeing nothing out of the ordinary....Maybe he's just as nervous talking to a human as you are talking to a monster, because to be quite honest, you haven't spoken to many.

"your bus is here" He suddenly says, snapping you out of your thoughts. You look back at him but....he's not there. You spin around, looking for him. But hes gone! like he was never there to begin with. Your head starts to hurt and you groan, exhaustion hitting you finally. But the strange skeleton wasn't wrong, your bus is here. 

Stepping onto the bus and getting your ticket, you take your usual seat at the back of the bus. Poping your head phones on and listing to some music, That strange skeleton still in your mind. Where did he go? how did he walk away so fast?

With a huff you will him out of your mind for now, watching the street lights fly by out the bus window.

Hanging up your keys with a heavy sigh, you let out a long and pained groan. Long shift at work, the confrontation and weird slightly scary disappearing skeletons? Man you need a drink... Making your way into the kitchen and pulling out a can of cider, you crack it open and take a drink, no work tommorow so why not!

Yawning you lean against the kitchen counter and look out of the window, up at the night sky. Theres a few stars out tonight, twinkling softly. You wish you could see more of the stars, but sadly theres to much light pollution to see them in their full beauty. Wanting to get a better look at them you walk towards your apartment's balcony, your drink hand, nice and relaxed, feeling cosy and content now that your finally home.

You get to the sliding doors, roll up the blinds and slide them open...

....

....

....

....

....

"What the Fuck".

Chapter Text

You stare blankly at your balcony, more specifically the ground, more specifically the skeleton laying on your balcony ground.

Your first reaction is to stare at...it. him? you aren't sure yet. Covering your mouth and furrowing your brows, you look around like there’s a hidden camera somewhere, or someone to look at, to see their reaction to this situation....

um...

....You shut the balcony door, put the can of cider down, and start pacing in your kitchen for a few seconds.... You really really don’t know how to react to this situation. All you wanted to do was have a drink, maybe turn on a movie or indulge in a three hour deep dive video on YouTube. But no, there’s a probably- well already dead person on your balcony.

After your initial shock you snap out of your confusion and dart back to the balcony, fling the door open in a panic, realising the seriousness of the situation. Looking down at the stranger on your balcony

Oh please don’t be dead, please-

The stranger has knocked over the few plants you have resting on the wall of your balcony, covering them in soil, your baby monstera plant resting on top of their skull. The intruder has landed weirdly on your lounge chair, looking like they tripped while drunk and has now passed out onto the chair. At least the skeleton is breathing, well a little ragged but breathing, which would surprise you if it wasn't for the eyeless jack knock off you met at the bus stop earlier in the day. Looking back over at the skeleton you can’t help but snort a little, being tempted to take a photo of them-

Why the hell am i thinking like this?! they could be a burglar for fuck sake, get it together!

Before stepping out onto the balcony, keeping your eyes on the mysterious skeleton, you reach over to the counter and grasp the handle of something to defend yourself with.

A spoon, Great.

With a deep breath you slink out onto the balcony, holding the spoon out in front of you, like its gonna do something if this guy tries to attack you. Your eyes scan over the intruder.

First thing that stands out in his bright yellow poncho...or shoal..cape? there wearing over their shoulders, a little star shaped button holding it in place. The strangers body is clothed in a black bodysuit, Covered little rips and tears. A yellowish-grey coat covering his bodysuit with a battered belt around his waist. What is this outfit… like a performance artist for children or some shit?

They’re covered in a bright, glittering yellowy-golden substance. Reminding you of honey but with glitter mixed into it.Yellow gloves that go up their arms covering their hands and arms until the bottom of their shoulder, leaving it exposed. The gloves are ripped slightly, showing skeletal fingers. phalanges? 

Shuffling closer to the skeleton you bend over them slight to see their face...They...Kinda look like a guy? strangely handsome, for a skeleton.

hes wearing a tiara, oh how cute.... he like a Disney prince you can rent out at a birthday party for your kids. Maybe one of the upstairs neighbours got him for their kids birthday, he got a little bit to drunk and climbed down here? Your head spins while trying to come up with answers to the situation.

With a sneer on your lips you nudge him with your foot.

…

no response.

you nudge him again and his finger twitches and he groans, you leap back and hold up the spoon to smack him with it if he try's anything funny with you.

"h-hey.....who the hell are you."

You curse at yourself for the stutter, not wanting to show your fear to the intruder. Even if he’s probably passed out cold.....ok he’s not waking up.

You panic a little, now noticing his porcelain looking bones have cracks and bruises littering them, That yellowy-golden substance is leaking out of the cracks. So skeleton monsters can breath and bruise. 

Your chest feels tight. You push the feeling down. Focus.

You suck a sharp breath between your teeth feeling very stressed, how are you supposed to deal with this!? Call the cops so the poor guy can be killed in prison, it's been happening a lot recently, News story’s using this to somehow further that monsters are bad and dangerous, that’s how you found out that apparently monsters turn to dust when they die....

Sure you’re a little cold hearted at times but you don’t think you can handle that much guilt on your shoulders. The knowledge of you sending this guy off the prison to be executed makes your stomach turn. Regardless of his intentions.

“ugh….I swear I’m living in the worst possible timeline”. You mumble to yourself sarcastically.

Nervously you put the spoon down, slightly mortified at yourself for actually thinking you could use it as a weapon, and creep over to him. You crouch down and take the plant off his head, placing it onto the balcony ground. You’ll re-pot it later. Next you turn his head slightly to make sure he’s actually knocked out and to see his injury’s better. You poke his cheek to see if he’ll wake up and…its slightly squishy?

This is a fever dream it has to be…

You poke his cheek again, this time the skeletons face scrunches up slightly and he whimpers. Huh. Your eyes lock onto his left eye socket, a painful looking crack stricken right down the middle of his eye. You wince and feel bad for the stranger, your eyes trail down his body, moving your hand to gently move aside a particularly large tear in the fabric of his bodysuit near his ribs.

Their cracked, cracked bad. That yellowy-golden goop, which you now decide might be blood or the magical equivalent to blood, is pouring out of his rips and sternum. You feel the grimace forming on your face.

Fuck

Looks like he got the shit kicked outta him. Maybe he climbed your balcony to hide from some anti-monster protester’s?

Again, your chest tightens with feeling. You shove it right down.

Now’s not the time to speculate anyways.

Hooking you're arm under his knees and around his back, you hoist him up grunting with effort. Strangely enough he kinda smells like apples..Well his blood smells like apples. Staggering a little and feeling your cheeks flush with strain, you start to make your way through the kitchen and to the livingroom couch. He’s made of nothing but bone! How’s he this heavy!

After borderline dragging him to the livingroom. You not so gently drop him onto the couch, grunting and rubbing your sore arm muscles. Still. You eye him closely, almost daring him to wake up from the rough handling he just got from you…

He’s as still as a rock, The only sign of life is his shallow breath.

Starting to feel like a creep for staring at him for so long you look away and swipe a hand over your face in exasperation. You catch a glance at the yellow brick road of sparkling blood he’s left across your floors. Looking like you slaughtered a damn minion…

you are gonna making him clean this place up once he wakes up, cuz you sure as hell aren’t in the mood to.

You hastily walk into the kitchen over to your 'medical cabinet' as you deemed it. Hoping up on the counter to reach the top of the cabinet shelf, you start pushing the out-of-date medicines out of the way, your goal shoved to the very back of the press. Hastily grasping the old box and hurrying back to the couch.

Your guest still hasn’t moved, his expression the same, slightly pained one. Opening the box, you start to pull out some medical bits and bobs. Bandages, cotton pads, disinfected, scissors and a ‘state of the art, FTA approved, magical healing gel’.

You huff a little as you hold the un-opened jar, remembering the huge buzz around the produced. Apparently the king of monsters started to share some monster made products they produced as a way to smooth over a deal with the government… and of course humans being humans, took what the monsters offered and monetised it without giving any of the cash made to the monsters. Instead labelling it as ‘A show of good faith on the monsters end’.

Shaking your head you shuffle over to the skeleton on your knees. Firstly taking his head in your hand and scanning over the massive crack. That needs to be dressed first….

You have no idea how to do that, They make it look so much simpler in the movies.

With a nervous breath you gingerly take his tiara off his skull, placing it onto the arm rest of the couch, and pour some disinfectant onto a cotton pad. Patting the cracked bone gently, trying to clean off the blood and dirt.

The skelly prince flinches a little and you freeze. Waiting a couple beats, he stays passed out, so you carry on. Wait skelly prince? You move on from that nickname with a snort and keep cleaning the tender area. You don’t exactly have the gentlest of hands but you take your time.

Scooping a generous amount of the gel you smear it onto the crack before sloppily bandaging his eye up. A very faint green glow shines from beneath the bandage catching your attention briefly. You grin a little, amazed that you can actually see the healing process, and brush a finger over the bandage before moving onto his other worrying injury.

You try to clean the wounds on his ribs through one of the bigger tears in his bodysuit, but its awkward and the fabric is brushing up against his other many cuts and bruises. Agrivating the tender bone further and pulling small grunts and whimpers of discomfort from the skeleton...... Your going to have to undress him huh.

You feel frustrated with yourself for being embarrassed about seeing his bare ribs, its not like he’s going to have to be fully naked! Get yourself together geez

Huffing you start to look for the end of his bodysuit to pull up over his chest, until you realise, Bodysuit. Your cheeks turn a little red from embarrassment and from how uncomfortable this situation is, you’re sure once he wakes up he’ll understand why you had to cut his clothes off…..god this sucks.

Gently you pull his poncho shoal thingy over his head and throw it onto the ground. Taking his coat off while trying not to jostle him around to much, same with his gloves and chucking them into the clothes pile without care. You pick up the scissors off the ground and shakily cut across the fabric of his bodysuit, just enough to expose his cracked up ribs…You feel your stomach drop at the sight. Nothing but pity filling your heart as you look at the extent he’s been hurt.

His ribs cracked, looking like a smashed tea pot made of fine China. Their thicker than human ribs, with smaller spaces in-between the ribs of the ribcage. The yellowy blood seems dry and sticks to his ribs making the wounds look more mangled, flacking off with the small movements of his breathing.

Your chest feels so tight now…this damn feeling. You know it to well, and you hate it. The pity, the urge to help, to nurture and protect. But you make yourself, no, will yourself to push the feeling down. Lock it away until its dead and forgotten. You can’t be feeling this way for a stranger. One that could potentially be in the middle of breaking into your home to steal things or…or kill you! Besides…every time you’ve felt this way towards someone in the past it ends up biting you in the ass.

Damn It’s a little late in the night to be feeling this edgy right now ugh.

Now, with more hastiness than before, you clean the wound, lather it in gel and slap a bandage on it, (having to try bandage it about three different times for the damn thing to stay on). You do the same to some other wounds and put plasters over the not-so-life-threatening-looking cracks, cleaning the blood off . You stand back to look at your handy work, not willing to cut the lower parts of his bodysuit off. Yeah he’s a skeleton and all but you don’t know if he has a ding-a-ling or not! Also you know you’d be pissed if someone cut your trousers off while you were passed out, being injured or not.

He looks a little….uncomfortable with the way he’s laying on the couch….eh, you’ve done enough. You throw a blanket from the back of the couch over him, tuck a cushion under his head and let out a tense breath.

You put away all the medical supplies and tuck the box away back in the cabinet. Almost slipping on the blood left behind on the floor. You just grunt, so done with the situation and walk bloody yellow footsteps passed the skeleton on the couch, down the hall and into your bedroom.

You have a baseball bat under your bed for self-defence, so you get it and pace it in bed right beside you before you flop down face first onto the bed. Just in case your bony visitor wakes up and chooses violence.

Tonight has been so so so chaotic and eventful and scary and…and…tiering and….. You slowly drift off to sleep, despite still being dressed in your work uniform and having your blood-soaked socks on… Your gonna regret that in the morning.

Chapter Text

You wake up. Your body strangely tense and muscles sore, with a strained stretch you turn over in your bed. Pulling out your phone and mindlessly scrolling on social media.

Heh, that’s a cute video of a dog.

scroll

Awwwww, That cat thinks he’s people.

scroll

….

Your eyes shift to a spot next to you in your bed…Your bat is there? Whys princess there. 

....

Oh yeah, you’ve a strange guy passed out of your couch.

You pick up your trusty bat, Princess, and raise it over your shoulder. Anxiety spiked and hardening your expression you slowly creep out of your room. Grimacing at your damp socks, once white now stained a glittery yellow. Gross

You quicky discard of your gross socks and proceed forwards now bare footed. Creeping as quietly as you can, bat at the ready. Sure its excessive, and his injuries are probably too severe for him to attack you. But you are not taking any chances.

Might as well make yourself look as intimating as possible right?

Tiptoeing into the Livingroom you instantly relax at the sight. He’s still passed out. You feel relieved for a brief moment, you don’t have to confront the guy. But now your stress is spiking again. He’s still he’s passed out. What if he has…er…brain damage or something.

Maybe you should call the cops.

You put your bat down and sigh deeply. Gently resting princess against the side of the couch. You extend your hand out and cup the skeletons head. Tilting it to the side to check the wounds.

Unwrapping the bandage that’s over his eye softly, you check his injury.

Oh cool it wasn’t a scam

His crack has lessened, The bone looking as good as new! Theirs still a slit over his eye but it looks less nasty. The gel did its job. At lest he’s gonna have a cool looking scar now.

You move onto his the bandages on his chest, There stained with his blood, loose and slightly falling off. You huff and pull the bandages off him, the wound looks…bad still. The healing gel really didn’t help with this one to much.

The slash in his ribs cuts across almost his entire chest, which you haven’t noticed since you didn’t fully undress him out of embarrassment. You stand back up straight and grimace, rubbing your arm.

This isn’t how you thought this week would go. You feel a slight tremble in your hands, a tug of your chest. Panic, you feel like your going to panic. You take deep breaths, calming yourself and staring at the sleeping skeleton.

You focus on his deep breaths, looking at his blank face. There’s no longer a pained grimace on his face attest. Looking at his face further you notice he somehow has bags under his eyes. He looks tired…Very tired. There’s small little nicks and scratch’s over his skull, they look old and worn. Slightly greyer against his pearly white bone.

You count the little nicks

…

Its to quite in your apartment

1..2…3-

Your hands tremble harder

4..5…6…7-

You can hear your breathing in your head

8…..9…11…14-

With a groan you shake your head and dart into the kitchen. Making a beeline to your fridge, pushing away the little food you have and going to grab the familiar coldness of your bottled water. Better than a can…

You take a couple swigs from the bottled water and lean on the counter, watching the shaking of your hands die down. Taking a brief breather before you make your way back into the living room. Squaring your shoulders, Harding your face. Alright, you can do this, address the wounds again then…call someone.

“ok mister skeleton guy, I know your passed out and all but its too quiet in here for my liking and its starting to get so fuckin’ awkward so-“

Hes gone

As well as your bat and his tiara

“oh hell no”.

You Look around wildly, Spluttering and tensing, God your muscles cant take this much abuse. This is bad, you don’t know his intentions or how aggressive this guy is.

You turn around to dart back into the kitchen, trying to go grab for a knife-

You feel a cool sharp object pressed to the front of your neck, a chest pressed against your back, something looming over you.

Oh shi-

“Who are you.”

His voice is deep, a lot deeper than you expected it to be, the under tone of a growl. Threatening… But smooth, velvety.

Your breath hitches and you swallow thickly, you start to shake. The harsh exterior you tried to put on absolutely crumbles. Your frozen solid, your mind in scrambles. The blade gets pressed closer to your neck and your flight or fight senses kick in…

FIGHT   FLEE   FREEZE

>FIGHT   FLEE  FREEZE

FIGHT

Remembering the nasty wound on his chest, you dig your elbow into it as hard as you can.

“ACK-”

The skeleton yelps in pain and briefly drops the…sword. That sends a panicked jolt up your spine. Were did this fucker get a sword from?!

You spin around and see him writhing in pain, holding his chest while coughing. He’s almost on the floor. He looks kinda funny in his cut up scruffy bodysuit, bandages hanging off him...

You dash into the kitchen and hear him yelp after you. Blindly in a panic you grasp the first thing with a handle. Turing on your heal and pointing it at your aggressor with the most intimidating sneer you can muster.

It’s the goddamn spoon. AGAIN.

“Where the hell did y-you get a sword from!” You shout, voice crackling from fear. And the fact that you literally just woke up. You brace yourself as he steady’s himself and picks his sword back up, holding his wounded chest.

Bright golden eyes bore into you, They glow softly. Soothingly. Yeah soothing eyes or not he held a goddamn sword to your throat.

“I cough… will not ask again. Who are you”. He growls again. Gripping his sword.

…who does this guy think he is. Barking orders at you in your own home.

Now feeling actually pissed off you jab the spoon in his direction making him flinch back slightly and getting into what looks to be a crooked fighting stance.

“Excuse-fucking-you. Don’t talk to me like that when you’re the one who came into my home. Disturbed my peace. Bled all over my goddamn floor, which for the record, I just mopped the other day!” You’re ranting. You know you are, but you're scared and confused. And very angry. “This is the thanks I get for bandaging you up!?”

The skeleton flinches slightly, his bone brows knitted together. He silently looks down at his chest, his eyes shift back you. You press yourself harder into the counter.

“You are the one who…who attempted to heal me?” He tugs on a loose roll of bandage that hands off his chest, it falls to the floor.

Attempted? Cheeky bastard.

You grunt in confirmation and eye him. He looks like he can barely stand, slightly crouched over himself and shaking. You shuffle on your feet and stop pointing the spoon at him.

“yeah, that was me. You were bleedin’ out pretty bad on my balcony…”

He blinks. Shifting his eyes to the balcony. He seems to take in the mess he’s left behind. Smashed plants, His now dried blood everywhere. He’s eyes soften briefly, giving you a once over.

Once again you feel that strange jolt rip through you, the same feeling you had with the other skeleton. At the bus stop. His eyes penetrating through your body, looking into your soul.

The sides of his mouth tug down wards briefly.

“Ah….I-I see. I apologise.” It sounds genuine. It probably is a genuine apology but you don’t care. Your still in defence mode, flinching at every movement he makes.

You eye him and gesture to his blade with your spoon. "not gonna try anything funny with that are you?"

He looks down at your spoon and raises a bone brow, a hint of an amused grin appears on his lips."Are you going to try anything with that?"

You glare at him and feel heat shoot up to your cheeks.

He smiles gently, its so sudden it takes you off guard, he places the blade down onto the ground, making a show of it to you, trying to put you at ease. Only then do you notice he has two blades.

“I do hope you can forgive the mess I’ve made. It wasn’t my intention to land in you’re dwelling." His voice turns smooth, handsome. Those big welcoming fuzzy eyes trying to coax you to let your guard down in his presence which....You simply ignore.

“mhm, sure. I will after you pay damages.” You step away from the counter and he tenses, those big welcoming golden eyes turned sharp suddenly. He looks confused for some reason.

He better not try get outta paying you back. Those plant pots where expensive!

But before you go ahead and tell him the damages or bombarded him with questions you grimace and look him over,

He’s barely standing now.

His legs trembling, holding his chest and breathing ragged. His eyes are fuzzy looking around the edges, the left eye socket still cracked. Half closed. But he’s keeping those hazy eyes trained to your figure. His smile is strained, like he’s trying to get you to relax and trust him.

You relax,

He mirrors your body language.

But you don’t trust him.

“Take a seat yeah? You look like you’re about to topple over.” You gesture to the couch he slept on last night. He nods but seems to not be willing to turn his back on you, choosing to back away from you rather than walk to the couch. You grin to yourself in amusement.

“My name is dream. Who may you be?” He asks, his voice a little strained as he sits down. He tried to sit politely on your couch but it seems to cause him discomfort, so he leans back against the couch huffing and rubbing his wounded chest.

Dream huh? Defiantly a Disney prince.

"i'm ____".

Chapter Text

“soooo…. Dream.”

“mhm?”

“You uh…. half dead on my balcony, care to explain?” You ask with a tilt of your head and a stern look in your eye. You come back from the kitchen with a cup of piping hot tea in your hand, handing it to a grateful looking dream.

You bought lavender tea awhile back to try and…it was forgotten in the back of your food cabinet. Now finally finding a use for it. You lean against the living room wall as you watch him, leaving a lot of space between you two. His eyes are soft and friendly as they lock onto you. Despite your instincts telling you to ease up on him you don’t. their wrong most of the time anyways. He literally pulled out a sword on you and you wanna trust him? Come on now…

“oh! Right.” His hands tremble slightly as dream takes a sip from his tea cup, a long sip from his tea. Looking around the living room silently, seemingly inspecting random objects you have littered around the room.

Wonderful he’s stalling.

With a sigh he holds the teacup in his hand and finally looks at you with a curt smile. “….i had a bit of a…wild night out with some of my friends last night. We were celebrating a milestone in our work. I do apologise for being a little out of hand-“ phf, A little huh “- and appearing on your property. It was not my intention.” His voice is sincere and his sad golden puppy dog eyes bore into you.

…....

Does this guy think your stupid or something?

Suddenly that same warm and welcoming air sweeps over you. Welcoming and safe, inviting you to trust him. His smile is soft and sweet, you can almost see a calming aura radiating off him, almost glowing.

You, once again, ignore it and scowl a little bit. Dreams soft and mellow smile become tight, he’s eyebrows screw slightly in what looks to be confusion and a little bit of irritation.

“hah, yeah sure. Ok. How’d you get so banged up then?” You prod and gesture to his wounds with an open palm.

He silently takes another long sip from his tea, all the while staring you down. But this stare is different…Its, not aggressive per say, or judgmental. Its analytical, sharp, guarded. He gives you another mistrustful once over. Ok…not creepy at all dude…

“Bar fight.”

Lie

“you didn’t get that banged up from a bar fight. It looks like you were cut with a sword, hang on, where did you even get them from?-” You gesture to the swords laying on the ground near his boots. 

Huh he has little sun charms on his boots.

Dream shifts slightly but keeps the smile on his face. “- also, what’s up with the cape and body suit you were wearing to?” You walk over to his cloths pile and pick up his shoal-cape-thing. You miss the way he tenses.

“a-ah if you would just let me expl-”

“and what’s with the tiara?”

….

He looks at you and his nose scrunches up, eyes narrowed. “It is not a tiara.” He says ‘calmly’. You notice a tad bit of irritation in his eyes.

You grin a little and cross your arms. “than what is it?”

“it is my circlet.”

You huff out a chuckle under your breath. He seems to be pretty defensive about his tiara. You’ll pocket that information for later.

“anyways, you haven’t answered my questions.“ Your eyes narrow and his smile gets more strained. “ Who are you? What are you wearing? What happened? Whats withe the fantasy swords and tiara” (You dont miss the eye-roll from dream once you call his ‘circlet’ a tiara again) You list the questions with your fingers and keep your eyes on him. “You a performer or something?”. You say while eyeing him analytically. 

His tense shoulders loosen and his eyes go a little wide. His eyes suddenly brighten, sitting up a little straighter looking somehow relived, He all but beems at you. You make a face and he chuckles.

“why yes! Yes I am a performer, that is exactly right. That’s why I was at the bar and how I became injured!”

You knew it. He’s a pretend prince. It explains most of why he looks like that. But not why he’s so fucked up.

As if dream can read your mind, he leans forwards with a sheepish grin. Tilting his head and idly rubbing his thumb over the teacups rim.

“you see I was at my normal establishment preforming my usual routine, a….a p-prince-“ He looks somewhat embarrassed admitting that “- fighting off the evil villain and saving the day, again.…. Ahem, afterwards me and my colleges decide to get a few drinks as a celebration. As you can see we got a little…violent within our group.”

You look down at his real blades.

“….We use authentic blades in our performance’s”

“wow geez.” You knew monsters were on the more violent side but you never knew they even got violent with performance’s. “That’s kinda intense”.

Dream nods softly and sighs, looking off into the air and grinning. Why does he look so proud of himself.

“The underground was not the kindest to monsters here. Violence seems to be par for the course for some, if not all, monsters—both in everyday life and on the theatrical stage.” Dream says, bring the teacup to his mouth and taking a drink. A distant look in his eye.

You hum at him and look him over. You don’t know much about monsters, or too much about the underground. When they first surfaced, sure, you were interested in them. Curious. Believing it was some sort of publicity stunt, but come to learn they were real.

“But not you huh?” You ask. Noticing he seems to speaking about his experience being locked in the underground in a distant sort of way. Like he wasn’t there for it. Must be a coping mechanism, there’s no way monsters aren’t traumatized from their ‘kill or be killed mindset’.

You know the basics like everyone else, it was ‘kill or be killed’ down there.  

You couldn’t even imagine it, you already have a bit of an anxiety issue let alone trust issues, but always looking behind your back? The thought of friends or even family not being people you can trust, people getting close to you just to kill you or use you?…makes you sick thinking about a life like that.

After the first month the monsters were freed, and you meet a few of the more…friendly ones? Non-human hating ones? you kinda…lost interest. Still being weary of monsters, despite feeling bad for them. Your interactions with the few you’ve met weren’t exactly positive, but they weren’t negative either. Just like interreacting with humans to. You saw no difference anyways.

Were all assholes at the end of the day anyways.

It didn’t affect your life badly. So you just lost interest and carried on with life.

“no, I am…aggressive when need be.” Dream says with a content smile, again, too sharp at the corner of his mouth. He seems a little more on edge after telling you his story, taking another long sip of his tea. Dream, as warm and friendly as he lets on to be, is starting to slowly close himself off a little. That assertiveness creeping back into his tone.

“Look, I get that coming to the surface must be a big culture shock to you but uh…..you can’t really just bleed out on peoples balcony's. Regardless of why.”

Dream nods his head and looks very apologetic, genuinely feeling bad for trashing your apartments balcony. He places the cup down onto your coffee table and rubs his forearm, standing and limping over to the pile of his scruffy clothes. He’s doing a pretty good job of making it seem he’s not in pain, but the slight tremble to his tone and the way he crouches over ever so slightly, limp in his step, tells you otherwise.

“I am so very very sorry, I’ll pay for any damages that I’ve caused you.” He sounds a little dismissive, irking you but you keep your mouth shut since he offered to pay for damages. Dream picks up his trench coat and frowns a little, looking at all the rips and tears. He scratches at a few of his dried blood stains with a hum, he try’s to put his coat on but hisses in pain.

“I appreciate that, really I do, but maybe you should sit down for another little while. Your injuries are still raw.” You walk over to him and extend a hand to him- he flinch’s back a little, eyes shift to his sword than back to you…. So you back off.

You have no idea why you’re so insistent for him to stay and rest. You just don’t want the guys dust on your hands you think.

With trembling hands dream brings one hand up to his wound, gently placing it over his wound. He face scrunches up in concentration which…confuses you slightly, until a faint yellow gleam shines from his fingertips. Your eyes widen slightly as you silently watch him. Magic!

He grunts and mumbles under his breath before facing you with a sickly sweet smile. "it seems i haven't got enough magic in me to heal myself. No matter, I can’t stay her for too much longer but your company has been lovely. Thank you for hospitality." He shrugs on his jack without care, forcing himself to yank his cape over his head.

An audible crackle sound suddenly comes from his ribs and he ignores it. Instead gritting his teeth and grunting a little. What is this guy a monster?!....oh yeah.

You certainly don’t ignore the cracking sound.

“FUCKING CHRIST YOUR RIB JUST SNAPPED?!?”

You scramble over to dream, ignoring the panic flashing on his face. You grasp his wrists and pull them away from his shoulders. Pulling the slit in his body suit you cut open and sticking your head near his chest.

Your chest feels tight again.

You ignore his surprised spluttering and gasp. A hair strand sized crack has trailed down from the big wound across his ribs and sternum to his lower ribs. His yellow blood slowly seeps out of his wound once more.

He manages to pull away from you with a sort of exasperated look on his face. His eyebags look heavier somehow, more tired.

Jesus Christ this guy is gonna give you a hernia from stress.

“ok, I'm, not taking no for an answer. You are in no condition to be moving around”.  You say hurrying to your kitchen and climbing the counter to reach the medical cabinet once again. Clumsily grasping the supply box and running back the living room. Taking note you still need to mop up the dried blood everywhere. Sigh.

“Oh no no- wait please- listen to me! I am perfectly fine and capable of taking care of myself i-“ You interrupted dream by pointing at him, a snarl on your lips. Not letting him talk his way out of help,

“There’s no way you’re going out on the streets like this, especially not around here” You back him up until he stumbles and sits back onto the couch with a groan or pain. His eyes go back to sharp and he tenses.

“look human, I do appreciate the help you are trying to offer. But I don’t want it. You have done enough! I need to be off. I am a very busy skeleton and I-“ Without thinking you slap a hand over his mouth and he jolts.

You look at him very intensely.

“You should know more than me that going out there in the open weak is not a good idea.” Theres no way hes this daft!? Going out with a gaping wound, with all the anti-monster attacks and random muggings?!! hell even his own kind would pick him off looking like this!

He all but glares at you silently.

You glare right back.

.....

His shoulders slouch and he groans into your hand, looking away from your intense stare.

Ha

You get dream to stay still enough for you to silently bandage up his ribs, lathering that same healing gel onto his bones. Now that he’s conscious he cringes slightly at the coldness and texture of the gel against his bare bones.

“…I know this is whole situation is like, really weird and…not ideal for both of us but uh…. I have the couch for you to sleep on again until morning, only until morning. Do you have a phone or need a phone to call your friends to come pick ya up?” You ask while bandaging him up.

He suddenly softly grasps your wrists.

His finger bones feel wild against your skin. The sensation completely new to you. You didn’t notice he has little…claws(?) at the ends of his finger bones. Kind of like nails except they're attached to the bone. His finger bones are much thicker than a humans, His hands are bigger too, much more sturdy than you would first expect. The next thing to catch your attention is the faint yellow glow between the joints that you only notice when you really strain your eyes. maybe you would see the glow better in the dark?

He clears his throat once he catches you staring.... You flush a tiny bit in mortification. Still not gonna ask how he can clear his throat as a skeleton.

"Let me apply the bandage, your method last time was....commendable". You can feel the cheekiness radiating from him.

ooooh this guy... 

He gently pushes your wrists back away from his ribs and takes the bandages from your hands. Shrugging off his clothes and his mangled bodysuit. Letting the top half of it drop down to expose his ribcage and spine…..You feel a little…intrusive looking at him so you look away.

You hear his soft grunts of effort and the scuffling of the bandage being applied. You stand up from your crouched position and dust off your trousers. Swiping a hand down your face.

“and no. I do not need a phone to contact them thank you. I'll be able to get a hold of them soon enough.” Dream says you can hear the amusement on his tongue, finding your embarrassment funny. It pisses you off.

You glance at him and nod.

“welp uh. Ill let you sort yourself out, bathrooms down the hall to the right, you’ll be sleeping on this couch, and…. I'll see if I have some clothes for you.” You look over his half-naked form and look back up at his face. He has a sweet smile on his face. For some reason this one feels more genuine than every other ones he’s had on his mug. “I need to go out shopping for a few things so ill be back soon

“Thank you ____. You are very kind”.

You wave him off and grunt, giving him a stern look. "dont gimme a reason to mistrust you".

psh kind, what a joke. This is the bare minimum.

Chapter Text

You feel so icky walking around the store. You’ve been wearing your work uniform for about three days straight now and you feel so gross. The only thing you’ve changed are your socks. You kinda had to, they were covered in magical blood.

Dealing with the whole dream situation is a good excuse for not being able to change you think. But it doesn’t stop you from feeling gross… you probably smell like sweat.

You walk around the store pushing the three wheeled shopping cart, huffing as it randomly gets stuck while pushing it, ‘looking’ down isles and shelves. Your fully spaced out in reality, in auto pilot mode.

You feel a little stressed… well very stressed about the whole dream situation. You kind of realise now that you’ve let a strange man stay in your apartment, alone, with your valuables. Not only that but you promised him he could stay a night on your couch. You shake your head and curse at yourself for being so stupid.

The cart gets stuck again, you walk into it and groan, shaking it to get it unstuck with a little more aggression then necessary. You turn down to the pasta and sauce isle, thinking about making some pasta foe dinner, but you freeze.

Yet another skeleton stands there, glaring at the different types of pastas like they’ve insulted his mother.

your being pranked right? You didn’t even know skeleton monsters were a thing until now.

This skeleton was different though, he was taller than the one at the bus stop and dream, like, way taller, about 6’3 maybe 6’4. He wears a bright red scarf, the end of it shredded up and flared out like a cape. What looks to be some sort of black armour and black jeans, a red belt around them. He wears red gloves and….red leather stripper boots, black buckles and all. Interesting fashion choice.

He seems to be daring a package of spaghetti noodles to insult him, or speak to him. His sharp teeth pulled into a scowl and mutters something about it being the ‘inferior pasta noodle’. His head suddenly snaps to your direction, his scowl still present and somehow his eye sockets narrow, you notice he has a scar over his left eye which for some reason intimidates you further.

You quickly look away and turn your cart the other way, it makes a loud awkward screeching noise as the wheel gets stuck once again and you cringe. Pushing it away from the pasta isle you hear a loud scoff. Yeah you aren’t touching that.

You forgot to make a list so you aimlessly walk around the store, looking for the basics you think you might need like; eggs, milk, bread, soup, chocolate…more chocolate. Filling the cart about less than half way, making sure you pick up the cheap stuff.

The clothes section catches your eye, you did tell dream he could borrow clothes if you had any, and you truly don’t think you have any that would fit him since his a good bit wider and taller than you.

You huff feeling sick of yourself. You’re really about to by a random skele-dude that ruined your floors with his blood clothes? Well…depending on the price of the clothes you would. Seriously you are getting soft. You have walls up for a damn reason!

Walking over to the clothes section you leave your cart at the side and have a quick look at the men’s section. You look around aimlessly and head to the hoodie section since that’s usually the safest type of clothes you can get someone, there warm and cuddly and you can wear them in any weather! You spot a yellow hoodie that would match dreams whole aesthetic, perfect!

39.99

You supress the scowl that try’s forms onto your lips. That much for a plain yellow hoodie?! Hell no. you hang it back up and look over at a plain back hoodie. He probably won’t care about aesthetics, and if he does he can just cope.

You gingerly unhook the hoodie from the metal bar its hung up on.

49.99

You outright scowl and blink, throwing it back up onto the metal bar. How the hell is it more expensive!

Your about to give up, cursing at capitalism as a whole before a bright red sign catches your eye. (up to) 60% off sale. Bingo.

You speed over to the metal rack near the sign and shift threw the clothes with some other people, sieving threw the clothe on the rack. It’s mostly full of summer dresses and t-shirt since there out of season. You snort at the ugly bright yellow crop top that you pick up. Maybe dream would like this, its technically yellow..

You decide to take mercy on him and keep looking.

That’s when you spot on old looking zip up hoodie. It’s a greyish blue colour with a grey hood, the pockets at the front are pretty deep to. You hum in satisfaction, looking it over. It’s a little big, an XL size. But you’re sure it would be fine, oversized hoodies are better than fitting hoodies in your opinion anyway! And as a plus its only 10.00!

“Taking inspo from my style, huh bus girl? Have I been on your mind that much?”

You jump out of your damn skin from a deep purr that suddenly invades your ear. You spin around on your heel and stumble, hand over your mouth to suppress a scream.

You come face to face with a familiar looking skeleton, red target over his chest, same hoodie, black tears dripping down his face. That smooth voice right in your ear…

“oh it’s you”. You take a breath and glare at him after the initial shock, huffing and pursing your lips. “mind not standing so close…and talking literally right in my ear?”. Despite the unexpected meeting you don’t mind meeting him again. It feels a little more awkward for some reason….“and bus girl? Really?”

He snickers and stuffs his hands into his pocket, looking down at you and grinning. “what else am I supposed to call ya? Grind girl sound any better?”

You dead pan at him and throw the hoodie over your arm. “anything but ‘bus girl’ or fucking 'grind girl'…. Goopy man”. You snark back playfully.

“goopy man! I'm offended! I might start actually crying after that horrible insult!”. Goopy man says in mock offense, he grips over where his heart would be and scoffs.

You chuckle tiredly at his silly display and roll your eyes, going back to look through the sales section for some bottoms for dream the wear. “you called me bus girl soooo, guess where even.”

He scoffs with that same cheeky grin plastered on his face. “killer, names killer”. He suddenly says. Hes right next to you, right in your personal bubble…still grinning, except it’s a little eery now. It really gives off uncanny valley vibes.

You clench your teeth and shuffle away from him slightly, messing with the hoodies sleeve that’s laid across your arm… only for him to shuffle with you, staying glued to your side.

“uhhhh…nice to properly meet you, killer…” you say, a little awkwardly, not quite believing his name is actually killer of all things. Then again it would make sense since the underground was pretty violent.

You tell him your name and he nods, looking down at the hoodie in your hands.

You catch him looking at the hoodie and huff, looking away, much to his continued amusement. “no you didn’t influence my fashion sense, it’s for someone else.” You look through the sales section until you find some grey tracksuit bottoms, you think their long enough for dream, killer is about the size of dream, him being a tiny bit shorter, and the bottoms look like they would fit killer…

“well I think you should take some inspo from my fashion sense, wearing the exact same outfit for two days straight ain’t exactly sanitary.” Killer says, his eyes trailing over your form.

Ok, you could drop dead at this moment and be completely fine with it. Actually, you would rather that than continue this conversation.

“wha- hey! you can hardly judge! You were wearing literally that exact outfit when in met you!” you huff and glare feeling your cheeks tingle, supressing a grin now that you caught him out.

“you kinda smell to, kid.”

Fuck this guy man.

You feel heat shoot through your cheeks and splutter in pure embarrassment, you can’t even snark back at him because he’s telling the truth. You glare at killer, opening and closing your mouth like a fish out of water.

Killer only bursts out laughing, more like cackling, and rests his arms over his eyes. He wipes a fake tear from his eye (ending up smearing that weird black goo across his cheek) and grins at you.

You glare at him and walk away from him, fuming. Humiliation across your cheeks you speed walk around the railing to your cart-

“oh come on kid I'm only messing with ya”.

Killer is sitting in your cart. The smuggest look donning his stupid, boney face…. You take a breath and cross your arms over yourself to look stern. Defiantly not because you feel insecure about the ‘smell’ and are trying to keep it contained to you…nooope defiantly not…

It actually surprises you how fast you’ve just accepted that this strange skeleton is just weird and kinda…. Just there.

“out.”

Killer hops out of the cart and stands near it, looking at you and snorting before looking away, much to your mortification. “calm down kid, ya don’t smell to bad.”

Well that doesn’t make you feel better at all. Why is he smelling me?

You grumble and grab your cart, pushing it away from killer. You don’t owe this guy your time anyways.

While walking away from the nuisance named killer you see the newly added ‘exotic monster food’ section and it catches your interest, needing something to distract you from that humiliating experience. You walk over to the isle and peek over at it, tilting your head, you head over to the first product that catches your eye.

A bottle of hot sauce, it’s a little purple bottle, the name ‘Grillbys Blazin Hot sauce’. It looks interesting enough, the sauce inside is purple with little swirls of orange that shimmers. The bottle itself looks like sort of potion from an adventure fantasy game. Man magic is cool.

You spin the bottle in your hand and think about getting it, you do like spicy food but you catch a warning plastered on the bottle. ‘Grillbys Blazin Hot sauce isn’t responsible for any human injuries involving body or mind’. Maybe I’ll pass up trying this, besides it’s a little price for a bottle this small.

“Aye a gal after my own heart, grillbys ain’t a bad choice, a little too spicy for my taste, but that’s pretty common for these verses’.”

This rat-

You sigh and feel your shoulders sink in exasperation, turning around and facing killer, he looks very happy with himself. Your eyes trail down to the stupid amount of chocolate bars that’s in his cart. There’s only chocolate bars in his cart, with a single butchers knife on top of all the chocolate. When did he… why a knife? The Chocolate?? It’s all the same brand!

You stare silently at him and make a ‘why’ face.

Killer just grins wider somehow, and chuckles. “what can I say, I gotta pretty bad sweet tooth.” He completely ignores the butchers knife sitting on top of the mountain of chocolate bars.

You just shake your head and push your cart along the monster section, killer following beside you with an easy, aloof grin. You sigh and just let him follow along, really too tired to fight with him.

You look at all the weird and wonderful products, echo flower cakes, mean creams, monster candys….and some sea tea? You walk over to the shelf and pick it up. Looking at the box, its mainly meant for healing. Huh.

Killer, once again completely invading your personal bubble making you tense, walks up right behind you and looks at the tea over your shoulder, he bends down till his chin is almost resting on your shoulder. He swipes the box straight from your hands- “hey! Killer!” -standing up straight and reads the box.

“this’ll taste salter then a mermaids shit kid, I wouldn’t recommend it.” Killer hands the box back to you, you snatch it back with a leer and look back at the box.

“it says it’s good for healing though? Would you recommend it for as a good healing method?”. You ask, popping it in your cart anyways.

Killers grin tightens a bit and he seems a little more tense than his usual aloof self. “…why, you planin’ on fightin’ somebody?”. for some reason his whole vibe switches from aloof to aggressive but you do what you do best and completely ignore it

You look at killer and raise an eyebrow, grinning a little and rolling your eyes. “do I really look like the type of person to like confrontations? Or like even look for that shit?” You look away from him for a second as you remember how you were in the past. A pathetic and scared little girl, thats what you were. Still are.

.…

…

…

…

“your human”.

The way killer says human, with such…conviction. It makes you shiver a little, those black eye sockets piercing through you.

“…yeah that’s fair, but no, I don’t plan on getting into a fight. I'm getting It for more of a safety precaution than anything, it’s getting more aggressive around here in general.” You explain, being…half truthful.

Killer stares at you blankly for a bit, before shrugging and pushing his cart back alongside yours. “whatever you say kid”.

Killer stays oddly silent as he follows you around the store, hitting you in the back with his cart ‘accidently’.

You pay for your stuff and cringe at the price. How are you even supposed live when everything is so expensive! The sea tea ending up being the thing making your bill skyrocket up in price, you sigh and have half a mind to add the clothes and healing items onto his ‘bill’ you’re going to make him pay for. The plant pots, the floor, clothes and healing shit now.

You bag your groceries and carry the plastic bags in your hands struggling a little. You turn around and see if your annoying little nuisance is following you…

You see killer look at you, grin with a wink, walk straight past the poor cashier, who yells after him in defeat and dash as fast as he can out of the store. Straight past the security guard. Yelling over his shoulder, “see ya around kid!”

You are left completely slack jawed by him once again and standing there as the security guard chases after him around a corner.

Huh, you actually have a little respect for him doing that.

You get out of their as fast as you can, not wanting people to associate with that complete psychopath. Feeling exhausted from today you decided to just take the bus home, despite your apartment being a 10 minute walk away. Dragging your tired body onto the bus and falling lax against the seat you look out the window watching people and monster alike go about their day. Pulling out your phone you scroll on tik tok for a while before the bus pulls up outside your apartment complex.

now, time to deal with tiara boy.

Chapter Text

"Don't gimme a reason to mistrust you". 

Finally.  

You shut the closed after saying those parting words, though it doesn't have the threatening effect you were hoping to accomplish on dream. He relaxes back onto the couch and throws an arm over his face, he's been in so much pain this entire time, but he refuses to let his guard down. Especially when you were 'healing’ him up. 

Nor does he let his guard down when you leave. 

With more effort than he's used to- dream pushes himself off the couch and groans. Standing as straight as he can with his cracked and weakened bones, he makes his way around your house, just to make sure he was actually safe with you gone. 

“First, I should check the kitchen. Maybe there are some healing items I can borrow...”  

He thinks back to when he first awoke, he was confused.  

Very confused, and very panicked.  

He wasn't in the Altertale variant he was defending anymore. His broth- nightmare. Nightmare wasn't there when he woke up, instead of that damned crescent-shaped grin taunting him, he was met with a cream coloured, cracked ceiling. Instead of the ice-cold temperatures in Snowden, he was surrounded with a warmth, a very familiar spicey type of warmth.  

He was in an underfell variant. 

He didn't mean the grimace that overcame his face, not really. It wasn't the surrounding inhabitants' fault he didn't take kindly to these particular type of AUs auras. Well, it was their fault but it's unintentional, it's in their code. They can't help it. 

After his quick analysis of his surroundings and realizing he is not on the battlefield anymore...he lays back on the comfortable couch, shutting his eyes. 

.... 

He jolts to life, 

He isn't on the battlefield anymore.  

ignoring the burning feeling across his chest, blurriness in his right eye and the fact that he feels ready to dust on the spot. He summons his twin swords with the last bit of magic he has left. He feels an intense amount of panic coming from the room across from him, so naturally he gets drawn to it. 

...and then his eyes land on you. 

Dreams shakes his head, sighing in frustration as he opens all the kitchen cabinets, his fingers twitching in frustration .  

There's something about you. 

He doesn't trust you. He’s well aware his feelings are irrational, mostly irrational. He has never been one to judge, no matter the AU or person, (To the point it used to be quite the flaw) But he can't help himself. He trusts his gut more than he trusts his brain, and right now his gut is demanding him not to trust you. 

He couldn't perform a CHECK on you, which was deeply troubling to him. He couldn't check your HP or LoVe, so naturally he guarded himself as if you had high LoVe. His aura didn't seem to work on you either, usually it calms people. Sooths them, makes them feel welcomed and like they can open up to him....its something he can't control sometimes. But you were unaffected.

Then again, he was dangerously low on magic. His aura is so weak that its being suffocated by the dominant emotion/emotions of this universe. 

“An unsettling disquiet, a restless unease that stirs at the depths of the AUs core....”  

Well. Maybe he's being a little dramatic but that's what he senses!  

...you were also from a fellverse, so naturally you were going to be a bit of a negative person, and have some negative traits...maybe negative isn't the right word.... Passionate? In-your-face type of personality?

Dream huffs slightly and keeps digging around your kitchen.

His aura doesn't work too well with underfell inhabitants when his magic is low anyways. But it should have at least calmed you down slightly, that is where he doesn't understand.  

Nightmare really messed him up this time...  

So messed up he could barely decipher your intent he was that weakened. Which normally was second nature to him.  

“Ah, finally”. 

Dream finds and grabs the healing gel you used on him when you tried to heal him. Your intent (of what little he could sense) had been too unsure, too nervous, to activate the healing gels full potential. He looks down at his exposed ribs and carefully unbandages them, slathering the gel on generously, grimacing at the texture and pain, before re-applying the bandages. He leans against the kitchen counter as the cracks across his scarred bones glimmer with green light through his bandages.  

Looking down at the ground and observing the mess he made in your home. He feels guilty about it. He will clean it up for you before he leaves, the plant pots will be replaced to. 

Lightly, dream traces a finger over the little crack in his left eye socket, applying some of the gel onto it, less than he applied to his ribs. 

“Maybe I will get an exciting scar like cross had under his eye...”  

Dream chuckles remembering the time cross flushed bright purple when blue complemented his scar, saying he looked ‘insanely cool and manly. Like one of undynes anime protagonists’. 

"Oh cross.."

.....

Cross and blue

Dreams' eyes widened, and he scrambled back into the living room. He can't believe himself, he forgot about them. Limping to the mini pile of his discarded clothes, he snatches his trench coat up and pulls out his phone. It’s shattered.  

The only thing that seems to be undamaged is the four little star charms ink had made him. Yellow, blue, purple and rainbow in colour, completely untouched. “Oh of course this would be the only thing that has survived untouched”.  

He winces as his phalange presses the on button. 

..... 

Nothing 

..... 

Fuck.  

Dream's frustrations bubble further, he tries a few more times to turn it on before giving up and chucking it onto the couch. Holding his skull, he concentrates on his magic. 

His last hope at contacting his teammates. He needs to create a portal back to Altertale, or a riskier option, teleport through the void, taking a ‘shortcut’. 

His soul tightens and burns as he tries to squeeze any magic he has left into making a portal, teleporting, anything to get back to his friends... but he can't. A grimace forms on the guardian's face as he thinks about blue, cross and ink. Being left alone without him. A pang of fear rips through him as his eyes narrow at the broken phone, what if something happened to them? What if they got hurt worse than he is... It would be his fault for being so weak.  

Dream's sour face worsens when he realizes he can't absorb enough positive emotions to replenish his wasted magic, finding it hard to find any positive aura at all .  

This AU is so deprived of it he's hesitant to allow himself to absorb the faint spark of happiness he feels from the apartment next door, not wanting to deprive the individual of the joyful emotion they faintly feel themselves. 

He can't take that emotion away, he won't. He’s not like nightmare.  

“Besides, it's not enough to aid in teleporting. It would do more harm than good”.  

Dreams panic worsens as his thoughts spiral, he doesn't know why or how he's in this AU. What if his friends were hurt? Blue isn't as strong as him or ink, he's still a mortal after all, as well as cross. What if nightmare got his claws on them? He would mock and torture them... What if... what if he's already gotten to them...what if there dea-  

“Yo dream, I'm back.” 

Dreams walls go right up as he pushes the worry down into the depths of his soul with every other worry he has. Hiding the trembling of his hands behind his back, he turns towards the hallway to the front door. With a softly tilt of his head he plasters a pleasant smile on his face. 

“ah, welcome back”. 

Chapter Text

 Dream has been acting...weird since you came back from your shopping trip. Well, you don’t really know him well enough to know if this is weird or not, he seems tenser.

Maybe he’s only now realising how weird this situation is.  

When you enter your apartment dream helps you carry the shopping bags into the kitchen, averting his eyes, shoulders squared, stiff. You briefly look him over, sneaking side glances at him every now and then as he figures out where each item goes. You half expect him to pull out his blades again he looks so tense.

An awkward tension surrounds you both as you shuffle around the kitchen.

Oh god you cant stand this..

While putting some chocolate away in the sweet press you clear your throat and turn to dream, who’s putting away a tub of strawberry’s into the freezer. You huff and walk over to him, correcting his mistake and putting them in the fridge.

“sooooo….uh, I gotcha a little something since your basically wearing tattered rags”. You keep your tone casual and unbothered as you walk over to a plastic bag on the kitchen counter. Dream slightly brightens and tilts his head as he follows you with his eyes.

“A gift?” He says in an interested tone.

“Well I wouldn’t say a gift… I would hate to see ya walking around in dirty rags, I'm not cruel dream”. You say in a slightly teasing tone, a small wry grin finds itself on dreams skull, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

You cant helping the amused smile spread on your lips when you see the curiosity in eyes, you pull out the bluish-greyish hoodie and grey sweat pants, chucking them on the table and grinning proudly.

 “ta-daaa, your new look.”

…

…

…

…

Snort

Dream looks very amused…and slightly…Exasperated? Which intern makes you feel insecure about your fashion choices. You feel your cheeks burn as you tense and curl in on yourself slightly.

“W-what! Why’d you laugh like that?! Is s-something wrong??” You are aware of how defensive you sound right now but you absolutely could not care less, you know your face is red. Dream covers his mouth and picks up the hoodie, looking to you with an amused gaze.

“oh no, I am not laughing at you….It just reminds me of some people I know. Thank you for your gift, I really do very much apricate it.”

Reminds him of people?

Dream smiles as he pulls the zipper down and shrugs the hoodie on. It’s a lot bigger on him than you thought it would be. Its length is to just right for his body, since he’s pretty lanky. But its to big on him, the sleeves going over his knuckles, making his legs look scrawny.

“You can go change in the bathroom…s’ down the hall.” Your voice is muffled slightly as you turn around and hide your face in your jacket slightly. Dream chuckles softly as he walks past you to the hall, his footsteps strangely light.

Letting out a breath you put the rest of the groceries away, you find it weird that dream said he knows people with that style. Killer has worn a hoodie similar to the one you gave dream. Maybe they know each other? There both skeletons to….You cringe slightly at the assumption dream would know killer because their both skeletons. Obviously they wouldn’t know each other just because their skeletons dumbass! That’s like saying you know every human because their human!

You feel more embarrassment pile on top of the embarrassment you felt from today. You groan and shake your head, ruffling your hair.

“Well, how do I look?”

You turn around to see dream and hum, he looks more put together. He looks nice and snug in the grey sweats and hoodie. The sweats fit him alright, a little short around his ankles, but their better than a ripped bodysuit. “There a little baggy, but it suits you. Bet it feels better than a tight bodysuit on the wounds”.

Dream nods, zipping down the hoodie show his bandaged up. Oh right, you forgot to get him a shirt.

“Yes, they are healing up quite well, still tender, but the healing gel you applied is helping a lot. Yet another I must thank you for.” He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, a little yellow tint to his cheek bones. You can’t help the smugness swell up in your chest, you grin and nod. “I know, I'm so great right?”

Dream huffs out a laugh and you feel the tension in the air start to leave, unfortunately the slight unease doesn’t dwindle.

“oh and I must ask for your help with something”. Dream makes his way into the living room, taking a seat on the couch. It irks you slightly when he sprawls out on your couch. Damn, such a hater today.

But that annoyance disappears the second dream takes the hoodie off fully, you can’t help but stare at him. Getting an eyeful of him now. You already knew that his bones were thicker than human bones, less of a gap between each rib, his spine is thicker, more sturdier.

His arm bones are thicker than your own arms. Skin, muscles and all. Same with his hands and fingers. You look at the scares littering his bones, small and big. The biggest on his spine, it leads down into his sweat pants. Its weird seeing a full on skeleton walking around now that you can fully see his top half. His performance’s must be really dangerous to give him a scar like that…or maybe the underground was harsh to him.

 Your eyes trail back up to his arm to where his shoulder is, what seems to be a tattoo of the sun etched into the bone, elegant but simple. How did you not notice that?! wait how did he even-

“if you are quite done ogling at me-“ wait no you didn’t meant to come off as a creep! “-would you be so kind as to help me re apply some bandages?”

You actively want to throw yourself out the window. You feel sooooooo….

“I do know your last application was… commendable, but unfortunately I can’t apply them to my spine by myself”.

The slightly smug look in his eye makes your cheeks burn brighter, his grin widens as you splutter and turn hotly on your heal, speed walking into the kitchen to get the med kit back out. Your hands rubbing your cheeks to calm down the flush before facing dream again.

He still looks smug.

“I wasn’t ogling at you, I was just- uh…your body should be inside me, that’s all”. You say trying to explain yourself, pulling out the bandages once again. When you look back up at dream his eyes are the size of plates, his face the colour of a damn minion, titling your head you glare at him. “what?”

...

“U-Um y-you me-mean…uh.” Dream averts his eyes as you look down at him, you make gesture for him to turn around. “I mean what? Turn around so I can get to your spine”.

Dream turns his body away from yours, the yellow on his cheeks glowing, it travels down to his shoulders. He seems to take a bit of a shaky breath before chuckling and clearing his throat. You really need to ask how he can even do that.

“you may want to think about your wording”.

Your hands freeze, heart drops as your face goes right back to red once again. For the thousand time this day. You feel mortified and your about to start panicking when dream interrupts your spiralling thoughts.

“But I do understand what you mean, it must be quite confusing as a human to see a skeleton walking around.” His tone is soft and understanding, not teasing anymore. Which your thankful for since your cheeks feel like they might melt off.

“hm, i-it is. How do you even, like, breath? Do you need to breath? How are you being held together?” Your hands work steadily as you wrap bandages around his spine, feeling him go ridged you go slower than you normally would. Dream grins and looks up at you from over his shoulder, cheeky look in his eyes

“magic”

That is such a cop out answer…

You glare at him silently and he snorts, further confusing you and frustrating you. “can you give me an actual answer please. Do you need to breath?” You tighten the bandages just a bit and he grunts with discomfort.

“well, no, I have no need to breath. But I do so anyways-” “I'm counting that as a non-answer!” “-as for being held together…”

Dream gently raises his wrist up to your face, with his other hand he points in-between his bones, his joints. You lean down, wanting to look closer, a faint yellowish gold glow emits from his joints. It’s hardly there, shimmering slightly, you imagine that you’d see it better when its darker. You feel dream looking at you but your way to distracted by the glow. You can feel a faint buzz coming from him now that your closer to him, kind of like static.

“The yellow glow your seeing is my magic holding me together, it’s the magic running through me, my bones, holding me together”. Dream explains, his voice suddenly way closer than before, you can feel his breath hit your shoulder lightly. “kind of like human blood in veins.”

“you got a whole yellow vibe going on huh?” Thinking back to his outfit and his tiara.

Dream chuckles lightly and nods, pulling his arm back and tilting his head to face away.

“I suppose your right, I do”.

You continue to idly chat with dream as you patch him back up, enduring his little jabs about the bandages being  to lose, than to tight, than to lose again. With dream fully clothed now, you sit beside him on the couch, propping your feet up on your coffee table. Groaning when you see his dried blood on the floor. Eh, you’ll get to that eventually.

You pull out your phone and open up Uber eats. Time for dinner. “You got any preferences on what food you eat?” You ask dream, scrolling through all the different options. Dream looks slightly surprised when you ask him this.

“ah, I am not hungry.” He says, looking down at his hoodie sleeves and rolling them up slightly to fit him better.

“False, I know your hungry. After being all banged up. Might as well get something well both enjoy”. Your eyes land on your usual default option when you cant be bothered to cook your food. Mc Donald’s. “never mind I'm getting McDonalds”.

Dream scowls a little and huffs, you side eye him with a raised eyebrow.

“…..I’ve seen the way they make the chicken nuggets. It is slightly grotesque.”

You snort at him and put in an order of chicken nuggets, 9 piece, sweat and sour sauce and ketchup. Along with a burger and a drink. “nuggets is my usual order, here” You hand dream the phone to put his order in.

“you would like the chicken nuggets.” Dream murmurs, you narrow your eyes at him playfully. Dream puts in his order and hands you back the phone. “thank you”

“no bother.”

You place the order and lean back into the sofa. You should have a shower. Looking over dream it looks like he needs to have one too. With a sigh you get up and walk over to your hot press, getting out some towels, you throw one over dreams head, he jumps and quickly takes it off. Looking alarmed. What a baby.

“I'm gonna go have a shower, you can have one straight after me if you like. Wash off all the dried blood on you.” Dream nods and stands up, walking over to you. He walks up to you hesitantly and places a hand on your shoulder, making you tense.

“I really do appreciate you doing all this for me, after I come barrelling into your home like this.” His genuine tone and his soft look makes your chest clench. You grin and roll your eyes at his mushy gushy talk. Patting his hand.

“As long as I get compensation, we're all good”. You wink and turn around, walking down the hall into the bathroom and shutting the door. Sighing, you shut your eyes taking a breath, calming your beating heart. The events from today has been too much for you, and it's not even 4 o’clock yet. You strip your uniform off finally and welcome the feeling of warm water washing over you, your feelings pooling away with the water.

Cleaning your body and hair, you decide you’ll dress in your pyjama’s for the rest of the day. You are not doing anything, for anyone.

When you come back out, dressed in your pajam’s with damp hair, you see dream on his hands and knees, scrubbing his dried blood off the floor. Looking like an undead Cinderella. His tiara just makes this even better.

“you know, mops exist right?” Dream jolts and turns to look at you as you lean against the door way. He looks down at the floor and stands up holding his chest.

“yes well, I could not find it. I didn’t want to root around in your kitchen, it would have been rude”. You walk to the kitchen, in the gap between the wall and the fridge were you keep your broom, mop and dustpan handy.

“here you go Cinderella”. You hand dream a mop and a bucket, taking the rag from his hands and chucking it in the sink.

Dream sighs and nods his head in defeat, looking slightly annoyed. He walks to the sink and begins at fill the bucket up with water, pouring in some soap. You hear a buzz come from the doorbell, foods here! You jog past dream and down your hall way.

“That tiara really suits you now Cinderella”.

“oh for the love of- It’s a circlet!”

Chapter Text

You sit on the couch, the dim light from the television flickering across the room, casting shadows against the walls. A half-eaten McDonald's meal rests on your lap, the familiar smell of fries and nuggets hanging in the air.

Mettaton's messed-up cooking show plays on the screen. His gleaming red eyes and sharp, practiced smile draw you in, as they always do. His over-the-top charisma commands attention, even now, as he tears through a blood-soaked spectacle. Humans are being slaughtered left and right—by, what, three chainsaws?

The absurdity of it all unfolds in vibrant colours and exaggerated screams, zoom-ins making the scene almost comical. The gore is fake, obviously, but still—it looks Hella real for a cooking show. Beside you, Dream frowns slightly. He’s been quiet since the scene on the screen took a darker turn, which is kind of surprising since you thought all monsters adored Mettaton. Well, obviously not ALL monsters…but still!

You glance over as Dream places his burger on the coffee table, his expression showing slight discomfort despite his efforts to hide it. It’s funny, watching his eye sockets scrunch closed whenever the show’s gory bits flash across the screen.

He has taken his tiara off to fiddle with in his hands. A few times he’s taken out a weird looking phone, trying to turn it on, hitting it, pressing random buttons. The thing is shattered, the screen so cracked you can see threw it, in to the phones circuit boards. Eventually he just puts it away.

He’s had his shower, finally washing away all the blood from cleaning the kitchen. He came to sit and eat with you… after you teased him relentlessly for scrubbing the kitchen tiles with nothing but a rag, calling him names like Bone-derella, Cinderskella, Bonylocks...

*snort*…. Cinderskella…. You are an absolute genius if you do say so yourself. 

The silence between you both is strange, not as tense as it once was, but still heavy. It’s bearable now. Not so awkward when he isn’t half naked on the damn couch getting patched up.

For a good while, neither of you speaks, letting the chaotic sounds from the TV fill the space.

You stare blankly at the screen, the absurdity of your situation starts to really sink in.

What are you even doing?

The situation feels more surreal the longer you think about it. Here you are, sitting in your own living room, eating fast food with a magical skeleton who crashed into your back garden after celebrating with one too many drinks. Typical Monday afternoon, right?

It sounds like the setup to some kind of shitty joke.

The whole thing is bizarre. How did you end up letting this stranger crash in your home? How did you wind up bandaging him up without even questioning him. And now you’re sitting here, eating dinner with him, as if this is your new normal—like he’s been living with you for months.

Maybe you’ve lost it. Maybe that’s the only logical explanation.

You pop another chicken nugget in your mouth, ignoring the spiralling thoughts, living in the now.

“So dream, uh…” You try think of something to talk about. Curiosity eating away at you. “you said you were celebrating with your friends, yeah?”.

Dream looks over at you, mid bite into his veggie burger. He hums and covers his mouth as he swallows the burger. “yes, my colleges. Blue, Ink and cross”

Turning to face him you turn the tv volume down a little, much to dreams visible relief. “Well, sounds and looks like yous had a wild night. Were yous celebrating in the bar across the way? Doyals I think its called..” Dream smiles a little and takes a second before he responds.

Dream smiles softly and pauses, as if choosing his words carefully. “Well, no, not that particular establishment. We were… more so drifting from place to place.” He glances away, clearly avoiding specifics, which you don’t push him on. After all, you are still strangers. “Shame with your phone, all smashed up” You say, changing the subject to make him more easy to converse with.

Dream frowns and pulls his phone from his pocket, holding it delicately between his skeletal fingers. He sighs, brushing his thumb across the cracked screen. “Yes, it is unfortunate. I’ve never been great with technology, but… I think it’s safe to say this one’s done for.” He chuckles softly, waving the shattered phone toward you.

You notice the small star charms dangling from the phone, swaying gently as he moves it. One is a light blue, another purple, then yellow, and finally a rainbow-colored one. With a hum of interest, you gesture toward them. “Cute.”

Dream looks down at the charms and smiles a little, he lightly touches the starts with his finger. “ Ah, my friend ink made these for me. He has quite the talent.” They are well made.

Bravely, you lean forward and gently run your fingers over the star charms, letting them rest in your palm as they look like they have a small bit of magic within them. Each one has a unique charm, their colours distinct. “Do they have any particular meaning?” you ask, curiously.

Dream nods, his gaze settling on you with an air of quiet contemplation. He doesn’t pull away when you reach for the charms, which you take as a good sign. He’s a lot less jumpy than he was. Instead, he takes the stars from your hand, holding them up delicately as he begins to explain.

“These stars,” he starts, “are representations of my closest companions. This one,” he gestures to the blue star, “represents Blue, naturally.” You nod, unsurprised. “The purple one symbolizes Cross,” he continues, “and this vibrant rainbow is Ink.” Of course the creator of the little charms would have the brightest one represent him. Makes sense.

You glance at the last star, a bright yellow one, glimmering in the light. Dream pauses for a moment before twisting it between his fingers. “And this, represents me. Though, I imagine you may have guessed.”

His tone carries a subtle warmth as he speaks, childlike affection as he lists each of his friends through the charms. The way he points them out, his careful mannerisms and the fondness in his voice, makes the moment unexpectedly sweet. Wow…that’s so disgustingly sweet.

“I like the purple one the most,” you say idly, flicking the little star and watching it swing on its chain.

Dream hums thoughtfully, watching the charm sway back and forth. “Yes, Cross himself has that effect on people,” he says, his tone a little wistful. “He carries a certain intensity with him, always. Fierce, protective. But underneath that exterior, He’s quite shy.”

He chuckles, before continuing. “He can be difficult to read at times, But you’ll always know where you stand with him, even if he doesn’t say much. He expresses more through actions than words.”

The way Dream speaks about him, with subtle admiration and understanding, makes you curious about his other friends, as much as you don’t want to admit that. “Sounds like someone you’d want on your side.”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of Dream’s mouth. “Absolutely”.

He pauses, before his fingers brush against the rainbow star, spinning it lightly. “And Ink, well, Ink is…. He’s the creative one, always full of energy and ideas. There’s never a dull moment when he’s around... He also does not know when to keep his mouth closed.” Dream says with an affectionate huff.

Oops- you think you’ve started a monologue.

You raise an eyebrow.

Dreams smile grows a little wider. “He creates, expresses, brings life to things most of us would overlook. But, he is quite chaotic…forgetful and annoying at worse.”

You chuckle and take a bite from your chicken nugget. “sounds like a fun guy”

Dream rolls his eyes and tuts at the small star, much to your amusement. “yes, but annoying people for your own amusement who are much more stronger than you is, in fact, not so fun”.

You defiantly started a monologue.

His fingers move to the blue star next, and his expression softens further. “Then there’s Blue. He’s... the optimist. He’ll always find a reason to smile, even in the darkest situations. His energy is contagious, though it can be a bit overwhelming at times.” Dream chuckles softly. “I can’t help but admire it. Blue has this... resilience. No matter what happens, he’ll keep going, always believing things will work out”.

You nod, beginning to understand the dynamic among his friends. Dream speaks of them like family, and it’s hard not to feel the warmth in his words. “Sounds like you’re lucky to have them.”

“I am,” Dream says, his voice softer now. “They’ve been with me through so much. I wouldn’t be who I am without them.”

Dream has softened up a lot since he started talking about his friends, and it’s... nice. The tension that clung to him seems to have melted away, which in turn makes you feel more at ease. But there’s something in his eyes—an underlying worry that lingers just beneath the surface. You don’t know what it is, and frankly, it’s none of your business, but it’s noticeable.

He hesitates, like he wants to say something but is holding back. Instead, he simply smiles, a warm, familiar look crossing his face. You’ve come to realise he does this when he wants to avoid something. A warm feeling spreading through you, trust him it sings relax. But like last time you ignore it.

“What about your friends?” He says changing the subject.

You shrug “Eh, I haven’t got to many”. It’s the truth, you haven’t got much. You wouldn’t really count your co-workers at your job, you have to be nice to them. So they stay as co-worker’s. You have one close friend but she’s in a different country studying for collage. But you don’t mind, you like your own company… at least, that’s what you think you like..

Yeah, you don’t need anyone to depend on.

"One or two close friends—that’s all you need, right?" you add, your tone indifferent as you shove another chicken nugget into your mouth. Dream glances over at you for a moment, then turns back to the TV, his expression thoughtful.

"I meant to ask," he says, shifting his body to face you fully, his golden eyes locking onto you. "Why did you... decide to help me?"

The question hangs in the air. You pause, nugget halfway to your mouth.

“I don’t know man”

Dream blinks, clearly not expecting such a blunt response. Than he lets out a bark of laughter, sharp and genuine. You jolt a little at the sound, but his amusement softens the moment. He covers his mouth, trying to stifle the snickering, but you can still hear the quiet chuckles slipping through as he shakes his head. Your nose scrunches up as you feel a little defensive. “What!”

Dream takes the last bite of his veggie burger, whipping his hands in a tissue before replying. “Nothing, truly. You are just funny”.

….you can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.

Gradually, the quiet turns into idle conversation, starting off with harmless small talk. You find yourself asking about Dream’s friends, curiosity getting the better of you. As he talks, his tone softens, becoming warmer as he begins to recount stories of his closest companions. You notice the slight tiredness in his voice when speaking about ink.

You wanna meet this guy.

Dream explains how Ink has a wild streak. He tells you about the time Ink conjured a life-sized cow using his magic paint just to torment Cross, a grin pulls at your lips. Dream seems to find the memory amusing, You can tell he’s dealt with a lot of Ink’s antics before.

As the conversation drifts, Dream shares more stories—some light-hearted, others more personal. You get the sense that he deeply values his friends, each one bringing something different to the dynamic. Cross, it turns out, has his own quirks and fears, and while Ink’s pranks might push the limits, it’s clear that Dream is always there to mediate when things go too far.

The more Dream speaks, the less tense you feel, the awkwardness between you melting away as he opens up. You listen intently, occasionally nodding or chuckling at his stories, finding yourself more invested in these strange, magical skeletons. Dream, for his part, seems content to talk about them, his earlier reserve giving way.

Time slips by without you realizing it. The clock on the wall ticks closer to 10:30pm, and you find yourself leaning back into the couch, more relaxed than you’ve been all day, thank god for that

The conversation has started to lull, naturally winding down. Dream falls into a comfortable silence, and you follow, the soft hum of the television filling the room once again.

You break the silence by standing with a stretch, yawning and walking down the hall to the hot press, pulling out a blanket for dream to sleep under. You pull out a ragged thin blanket, its gone itchy and a washed out grey colour with its old age. Eugh... Grimacing you look up and see your favourite comfort blanket is the only one left in the hot press.

…

He’ll manage

Walking back down the hall, you take the grey blanket and throw it over him, he makes a surprised noise at the back of his throat.

“here, keep ya warm since it gets cold at night here. You know where the bandages are, take whatever food you want from the kitchen…er…you know where the bathroom n shit is. Night” With a yawn you turn on your heel, waving him off when he tries to speak. Saving yourself from the ‘I am eternally grateful’ speech you know he’s built up in his head. It takes the wind out of his sails it seems as he deflates and gives you a dumbfounded look.

You stagger back into your room, falling face first onto the bed. Usually you would mull over everything that’s happened today but you are too damn tried to care right now. With a groan you take your trousers off, just in panties and a shirt and almost immediately pass out on the sheets.

You wake up groggily, the weight of sleep still pulling at your limbs as you sit up, rubbing your eyes with a grumbled sigh. Pulling the hair out of your mouth you turn your phone on and turn the alarm off. Scrolling on your phone for about 20 minutes, after having your brain rotted by social media before you start the day.

Putting your phone down, the events of last night drift into your mind as you swing your legs out of bed. Dream. You’re not sure what to make of him still, but for once, it was kind of nice having someone to talk to, Which kind of makes you feel a little pathetic. But you brush it off.

You yawn, dragging yourself through the hallway, still trying to fully wake up. Groaning as you get to the Livingroom, the blinds already open and the sun shining through.

“christ dream I should have guest you were a mornin’ person”.

…

Blinking, you glance around when you get no response, expecting to see Dream lounging on the couch like last night. Dream is nowhere to be seen.

You frown, eyes scanning the couch where he had been. The blanket he used is neatly folded and placed on the armrest, the pillows arranged and even the coffee table whipped clean. It’s unsettling, it was like he was never here to begin with.

Your tired brain tries to catch up. Did he leave? You rub the back of your neck, feeling an odd pang in your chest. You shuffle to the kitchen, eyes still half-lidded, a little annoyed at yourself for feeling... something about this.

As you turn into the kitchen, the sight stops you in your tracks. The entire room is spotless, not a single sign of last night's chaos. The counters gleam, and even the dishes in the sink have been washed and stacked to dry. You glance through the balcony door, and sure enough, the shattered pots and the dirt that had been scattered across the floor? Gone. Cleaned, as if nothing had ever happened.

Cinderskella

Your confusion deepens as you move toward the counter, spotting something out of place. Resting there is a small stack of cash, neatly placed in the center. No note, no explanation. Just the money. The moron actually took you seriously.

You pause, staring at it for a long moment. Dream didn’t say goodbye. No thanks for the conversation or even a cryptic note like you half-expected from someone like him. Just... cash.

You shrug your feelings off and pick up the cash, counting it…. There’s enough to cover like two of your more expensive pots. Pocketing the cash you walk around your newly cleaned house. Princess, your trusty bat, lays out on your balcony. Ahh he gives my only weapon back once he leaves. Smart.

You sigh and go about the rest of your morning getting ready for work, changing, packing lunch and scrounging for change for the bus. Grabbing your keys you walk out the apartment door and to the bus top. Earphones blasting music to drown out the world around you.

What an odd side quest you just went through.

Chapter Text

Tick, tick, tick

…

The slow, rhythmic ticking of the wall clock fills the empty space, the only sign of time moving forward in this drag of an afternoon.

You rest your head on your palm, leaning against the counter, eyes lazily scanning the deserted coffee shop. It’s one of those sluggish days where the usual stream of customers has been reduced to a trickle.

A light hum from the espresso machine breaks the silence, though it hasn’t been touched in a while.

Your manager has already came by twice, throwing you side-eyed glances with the usual complaint: “Find something to do.” You’ve heard it all before. But you’ve already swept and mopped the floor, meticulously stocked the shelves in the back room, and wiped down every inch of the counter and tables until they gleamed. There’s nothing left to do.

He’s just being a dick for the sake of it, needing to feel in charge. Big man bullying someone half his size.

With an over dramatic sigh, you push yourself away from the counter feet dragging as you make your way to the far corner of the shop. Your eyes catch the occasional flicker of motion outside the window, people rushing by living their busy lives, but none of them step through the door. Not that you blame them. Its scorching out today surprisingly.

Dinga’ling!

A familiar old man, one of the regulars, shuffles in clutching a well-worn newspaper. He orders his usual order. Black coffee, no sugar, and a powdered donut, You get started on the order before he even reaches the counter.

With a lazy smile, you quickly prepare his cup as he makes his slow way to his favourite table by the window.

“Good afternoon, dear.” he says in his usual gentle tone. He places a few crumpled bills and coins on the counter, more than enough for his coffee. William’s tips are always generous, a habit he’s kept up since he first started frequenting the shop. Not that your complaining… Such a cute old man.

His wife passed away years ago. He had told you that in one of his quieter moments. They never had kids, and now, William is mostly alone. His days blur together he once said, but the coffee shop has become something of a second home for him. A place where he doesn’t feel quite as lonely.

You hand him his cup, your hands wrapping around his unsteady ones to help him. “You know, I was thinking about Alice again this morning,” he says, referring to his late wife. He’s told you countless stories about her. The way she laughed, the way she danced. The way she had once scolded him for spilling coffee all over a brand-new shirt. "She always had the brightest smile. Even when she was mad, a spitfire of a girl. Like you." he chuckles softly.

You lean against the counter, happy to listen. William spends most of his time here, chatting with you about little things—stories about Alice from ‘the old days,’ or some new article he’s discovered online. He’s surprisingly tech-savvy for his age and often shares random trivia with you, things he’s stumbled upon while browsing the internet… a few times you’ve had to explain a meme to him. Trying to explain why ‘kids these days’ keep saying skibidi was a struggle.

William's presence, His stories, the warmth in his eyes as he talks about his wife they make the hours pass just a little faster.

After a while, he makes his way to his usual seat by the window, the one with the perfect view of the street. You watch as he settles in, unfolding his worn newspaper, the familiar routine comforting in its predictability.

With nothing else to occupy your hands or mind you slip into the back room, pulling out your phone. There’s no point waiting around out front looking board, its ‘unprofessional’ as your boss puts it.

Leaning against the storage shelves you absentmindedly scroll through social media. It numbs your already rotted brain. A momentary escape from the quiet buzz of the shop that surrounds you that you’ll take.

You think back to dream briefly. That whole random situation making your brain hurt when you think about it, how he just up and left. You feel a pang in your soul and grunt. You prefer it that way, honestly you do. No awkward goodbyes or un-needed thank you’s.

Yeah, you prefer it this way…

…

Tick, tick, tick…

“Ughhhhhh…. I can’t do this”.

You bash your head against the metal pole of the shelf, groaning in frustration as the dull thud reverberates through the room, and your stupidly empty brain. "Ugh," you huff, massaging the spot with your hand.

Slipping your phone back into your pocket, you take one last glance at the empty shop through the storage room door. Time is dragging, and the familiar weight of your shift seems heavier than usual, even after talking to William!

You decide to trudge back to the counter out front. Maybe a quick cup of tea will help wake you up, give you something—anything—to break the silence.

You pull your usual chipped ceramic mug from under the counter, its surface smoothed from countless uses. With practiced movements, you fill the kettle with water, the stream hissing softly as it hits the base. While waiting, you reach for the tea tin, opening the lid to the comforting scent of Earl Grey.

You drop a teabag into your mug, watching the water start to boil, steam curling from the spout.

The rhythmic bubbling sound is oddly soothing.

Once the kettle clicks off, you pour the water over the bag. You stand there for a moment, letting it steep, the warmth of the mug spreading through your fingertips.

The shop is still empty. It’s just you, the faint scent of brewing tea, and the soft ticking of the clock. You lift the mug to your lips, inhaling the comforting warmth of the steam.

"Fancy meeting you here," a voice purrs from directly behind you, smooth as silk but laced with something... unsettling.

You don't even bother jumping this time. That purr is unmistakable.

Sigh.

"Hello, Killer," you respond in a monotone voice, not bothering to turn.

You can already picture him leaning there with that smug grin plastered on his face. Sure enough, when you finally glance over your shoulder, there he is, resting his arms on the counter, his head tilted slightly to the side, wearing that signature eerie smile. That strange, inky goo is already dripping from his sockets sliding slowly onto your freshly polished counter.

Double sigh.

"Heya, kid," he says, his voice filled with amusement. "I'm here for my free coffee."

You roll your eyes as he leans even further onto the counter, messing with the sleeve of his worn-out hoodie.

“Thought I told you my boss was stingy,” you say with a weary exhale, turning your back to him as you make your way to the coffee machine. His presence is unsettling, stalkery… but at this point, it’s becoming normal, in a bizarre way.

Or maybe your just becoming desensitised to skeletons.

Reaching for a takeaway cup, you start pouring the coffee. He didn’t specify what he wanted, but you decide to make him a wanting to show off your latte art skills. Besides it’s not like he’s paying for it, so he gets what he’s given.

“Oh, come on,” he says, sauntering over to the pickup counter with that same irritating confidence. "There's gotta be some kind of family and friends deal, right?" He winks.

You scoff, shaking your head as you steam the milk. "I literally met you, like... three days ago. And I’ve seen you twice since then."

Killer smirks, his mouth quirking slightly as he pretends to pout, though there’s a mischievous gleam in his (non-existent) eyes. "I thought we were besties," he says, sighing dramatically and obnoxiously loud. "Guess I was wrong..."

The theatrics are laid on thick, and it’s hard not to roll your eyes again. You finish up the latte, expertly pouring the milk to form a perfect heart on the surface. You slide the cup toward him across the counter.

He picks it up, inspecting the latte art with a grin. "Oh, look at that! A heart! You do care," he teases, reaching over the counter and pouring a mountain of chocolate powder into his latte.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter. “Just don’t make a fuckin’ mess alright? I just cleaned.”

As he takes a sip, still grinning. Weirdo

Grabbing a cloth you wet it under the sink, the warm water soaking into the fabric as you bring it back to the counter. You scowl as you wipe up the sticky, black substance that Killer left behind, trying not to let the goo spread further across the counter. "Gross..." you mutter under your breath, grimacing when some of it smears onto your hand.

Sighing in frustration you look up at him and ask "So, why are you here, anyway, Killer?"

Before you can even finish wiping the counter clean, he's suddenly in front of you again.

Your heart leaps into your throat, your hand instinctively flies to your chest in shock. “Motherfuc-!”

"For my free coffee, obviously," he says with that ever-present smirk. Its slightly tight, you notice "and to see my favourite human."

After your heart stops hammering in your ears you pull a face at him, unimpressed.

The goo is dripping from his eye sockets more than usual, and it's starting to make you uncomfortable. Grimacing, you walk back over to the sink and grab a roll of kitchen paper, ripping off a few sheets. Wordlessly, you hold it out to him, gesturing toward his face, hoping he'll take the hint and clean himself up.

"Favourite human, huh?" you say with a raised eyebrow as you hand him the paper. "I'm flattered, really. Being the favourite to some random ass creepy skeleton guy."

Killer just stares at you, his grin stretching tight across his bony face. There's something off about the way he's looking at you now. Hes too still, too focused. The unnerving intensity makes your skin crawl, but you force eye contact to mask your discomfort. His hand is gripping the flimsy paper cut, it curves under the pressure of his grip.

"...Oooookay..." you mutter, breaking the awkward silence. Trying to lighten the mood you blurt out, "Want a cookie?"

His expression doesn’t change, but he nods slowly, the eerie grin never fading. You shake your head slightly, turning away to grab a cookie from the display case.

Noticing Killer’s odd tension, you study him for a moment looking over your shoulder, sensing something is off.

His shoulders are squared, posture unusually stiff. His grin seems tighter than before, less playful and more... forced. The strange black goo drips steadily from his hollow sockets, spilling down his face and staining his hoodie, the fur on his hood more of a grey colour than a light cream that’s underneath.

He dabs at his cheeks every now and then but it’s no use. The tissue is quickly soaked in a mix of black and grey slime, and he has to wipe his face repeatedly, tossing the ruined paper aside. Even though you’ve grown somewhat accustomed to his presence, this... this is different.

The red target emblazoned on his chest, which normally pulses gently, seems to twitch and flicker. The glowing lines wavering unnaturally. Every now and then, it flares, glowing brightly before dimming back down.

You feel slightly intrusive staring at it so you look back at the display case, grabbing a chocolate chip cookie.

"Killer... you alright?" you ask, your voice tinged with nervousness as you hand him a chocolate chip cookie.

He doesn't answer right away, just keeps wiping his face, the eerie grin still plastered on his face like a mask.

"Yeah, kid... just feeling a bit... off today."

You nod slowly, unsure of what to say, and find yourself glancing at the glowing target on his chest again, wondering what it means when it flares like that.

…

…

…

“S…shitty day at work, huh?” you say, your voice faltering slightly, the tension of the room pressing down on you.

This is getting awkward as hell…

He's oddly quiet all of a sudden. No sound, no movement, just the faint ticking of the clock. The eerie silence stretches thin as he leans against the counter.

Slowly, deliberately, he lifts the mug to his lips and takes a sip of coffee. He hums.

“Yeah,” he finally responds, his voice as flat as the silence that preceded it. “Guess you could say that.” His sockets look down to the cookie on the counter, before he tucks it into his pocket.

He dabs at his cheek with the crumpled tissue again, but all he manages is to smear more of the thick, dark ooze across his pale bone.

You swallow nervously, watching the black slime drip down his cheek, your mind scrambling for something to say. Something normal. Something easy to talk about. Something that would break this fucking tension.

“Have you... ever tried to, like, stuff tissue in your sockets? Or, uh, maybe put a… a tea towel in there?” you stammer, the words spilling out before you can stop yourself, the absurdity of it hitting you a moment too late.

Killer stops, as he slowly turns his head toward you. His hollow sockets are leaking again. His expression unreadable, but the weight of his gaze is heavy. For a moment, he just stares, unmoving, his sockets glistening under the dim light, the room growing colder with each passing second.

You feel a cold sweat under his gaze.

…

He barks out a laugh.

Short. Harsh. Abrupt. It slices through the quiet like a knife.

You flinch, your face flushing with embarrassment at your awkward words. Your arms cross over your chest defensively with a huff.

“What! I- shut up man, your being weird today!” Your face burns bright red again and you quickly stride over to the coffee machine, picking up a cloth and grumpily ‘cleaning’ the nozzles.

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, glancing up at him. The sharp tension that seemed to coil in his frame loosens, just a little. His shoulders relax, you can see a hint of amusement creeping into the voids of his sockets.

“Relax,” Killer drawls, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m not gonna bite ya I'm only messing with you.” He wipes the corner of his lip with his sleeve, more goop smeared carelessly across his bone. “But seriously, a tea towel?” His laugh bubbles up again.

You huff, trying to look unbothered as you clean the clean counter again. "I dunno," you mutter, "I was just trying to help." You flush harder when you realise you sound like a pouty toddler.

He leans forward and his grin spreads a little wider, almost predatory, but something about it feels less threatening now, more… teasing. "Oh, I bet you were," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You always this helpful?"

You glare at him. "Well, someone’s gotta try help you. Ya look like a hot mess dripping all over my counter!" you snap back, trying to regain some of your dignity back.

He chuckles again and he takes another sip of his coffee. Then, with a mock thoughtful expression, he glances down at the cup and raises an eyebrow. “You call this a latte?” His voice is light, but you can hear the teasing edge. “I mean really, how do you manage to screw up milk and coffee? It’s not rocket science.”

You blink, your mouth opening in indignation. "Wha- why are you being such a prick tod-“

He cuts you off, waving his hand dismissively. “Nah, it’s pretty bad.” He leans back again, casually resting against the counter.

Your face goes redder. “I don’t see you making one!” you huff, throwing them up in frustration.

Hes such an insufferable brat!

Killer just grins wider, his bony shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. “Nah, I wouldn’t want to put you out of a job.”

You narrow your eyes at him in irritation. In a quick impulsive move you flick some of the dirty water from your fingers in his direction.

He screeches, flinching back like a startled cartoon character, his exaggerated reaction so ridiculous that you can't help but crack a small smile. The corner of your mouth twitches as you suppress a snicker.

"Oh, come on! That was unnecessary" he grumbles. Ignoring his protest, you grab a nearby tea towel, one with little cats lining the edges, and walk up to him.

“Hold still,” you say under your breath, raising the towel toward his face. His cheeks smeared with dark goo and it’s starting to piss you off. Dripping down all over the counter.

Before you can even touch him his hand darts out and his fingers wrap around your wrist in a firm grasp. You hiss in surprise, glaring up at him, meeting the emptiness of his sockets.

“What the hell?” you snap, your voice low, but not without frustration. “It was just a bit of water.”

He doesn’t respond.

His silence thick, but not in the way it usually does. It’s not oppressive or looming…just strangely muted. You give a short, annoyed sigh, twisting your wrist free with a sharp pull, more irritated at the interruption than anything else.

“Oh will you calm your tits,” you mutter, shaking your head. “It was only a bit of water, Let me clean you up…Such an embarrassment”.

 Without waiting for his approval, you bring the towel to his face and start wiping away the dark ooze that’s smeared across his cheek.

He watches you like a hawk as you clean the goo off his cheek. You don’t notice it at first, too focused on the task, but his hollow sockets are unblinking, his attention sharp and fixed on your face. The usual sarcasm or snide comments don’t come.

With the last bit of goo cleared from his Bone, you finally step back, tossing the tea towel onto the counter. “See? Was that so hard?” you ask with a little huff, more to yourself than him.

Still, no response.

You glance up at him briefly, expecting some retort, but he's as silent as ever. You roll your eyes and shrugging it off.

“eat your cookie by the way, don’t just keep it in your pocket”.

The day dragged on, but eventually, the last few customers trickled out and the coffee shop began to quiet down. Though it wasn’t that busy to begin with.

 You wiped down the counters one last time. The dim overhead lights flickered softly, casting a warm glow over the empty tables. It had been a long shift, but it was finally coming to an end.

Thank Christ.

Killer remained in the shop for a while. leaning casually against the counter with his coffee cup still in hand, switching from table to table.

Its strange. You feel like you should be really weirded out that he’s stayed the entire shift, casually making conversation with you randomly…. You learned he has 7 cats.

His earlier mood had softened considerably, his sharp-edged sarcasm giving way to something a little more relaxed and casual, like back at the super market.

"You done playing barista?" he teased lightly as you wiped down the final table, his voice free of its earlier bite.

You rolled your eyes, throwing the towel over your shoulder. "Yeah, finally. And you’re still here, stalker."

He chuckled softly, taking another sip from another one of his cups.

“stalker? This is probably the best shift you’ve ever had- you’ve been blessed by my presents.” He held the cup up, inspecting the remnants of your earlier handiwork. “Yer hot chocolates are much better than your lattes”.  he mused “Needs more cream though.”

You chuckle at his put on sass. But before you could respond, his phone buzzes in his jacket pocket. He pops the remanence of a cookie you gave him in his mouth as he pulls out his phone.

Killer’s grin faded instantly, his posture tensing. His gaze flickered briefly to you before he answered, his voice dropping to a more serious tone as he stepped away.

You couldn’t hear much of the conversation, just the low murmur of his voice and the occasional grunt of acknowledgment. But whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t good. You’ve noticed its not good if he doesn’t fidget, and currently he’s as still as stone.

“Yes sir.” he muttered sharply into the phone, then clicked it off without another word.

"Guess I’m outta here," he said abruptly, turning on his heel as he stuffed the phone back in his jacket. "Duty calls."

Before you could even respond, he was already halfway out the door, leaving the mug on the counter and the door swinging shut behind him. You stared after him for a moment, blinking at the suddenness of his departure.

So hot and cold with this guy…

With a sigh, you grabbed your bag from the back room and locked up the shop. The surprisingly cold night air greeted you as you stepped outside, the chill of the city seeping into your bones. Pulling your jacket tighter, you made your way to the bus stop.

The bus pulled up with a low rumble, the hiss of the brakes breaking the silence. You climbed on, swiping your card and finding a seat near the back. You sit down and sigh, popping in your headphones and staring out the window at the passing cityscape. The buildings blurred by, bathed in the orange glow of the streetlights. Seeing the occasional monster and human pass by.

Its late once the bus pulls up to your stop, the streets mostly empty, save for a few stragglers here and there. Your thoughts drifted back to Killer and how quickly he’d left, the way his mood shifted with that phone call. You want to know what that phone call was about….and why he was so…so still this morning, but knowing him, you’d probably never find out.

Stepping off the bus and into the cool night. The street was eerily quiet now, the only sound the distant hum of traffic a few blocks away. You started walking, your apartment only a few minutes from the bus stop.

You passed a few closed shops and dimly lit windows, your footsteps the only sound echoing down the empty street.

Your headphones switch to some cringy song you used to listen too when you were like 13. You cringe but listen to the nostalgic music.

They could never make me hate you living tomb stone.

As you neared the alleyway that you always passed on your way home, something made you pause. A muffled shout echoed from the shadows, followed by the sound of something, or someone, being shoved against the wall.

You froze, your heartbeat quickening as the distant voices grew louder.

“What the fuck...?” you muttered under your breath, peering down the alley from around the corner.

In the dim light shines from a far-off streetlamp, you could just make out a group of figures.

Three, maybe four.

One of them was pinned up against the wall, and the others were circling him like predators closing in on their prey.

You squinted, trying to get a better look.

Dread filling your gut.

The figure being pushed around, the one slumped against the wall, was unmistakable.

The pale white bones, that ethereal glow from golden eye sockets and marrow.

it was Dream.

One of the monsters, a gruff looking dog with a bone shaped smoke in his mouth, slammed him back against the brick wall,

hard.

So hard he bounces. A breathless sound leaving his open mouth.

His attackers jeered, their voices rough and mocking.

“What’s the matter? Not so tough now, huh?” one of them sneered, landing another harsh punch to Dream’s skull.

“Can’t believe he ain’t got no gold.” Another sneer, holding dreams tiara. Spinning it around his finger.

"Extra EXP and nothin' more".

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched, frozen in place.

The way Dream’s frame crumpled slightly with each hit, the cold, calculating looks on the faces of his attackers, the rising tension in the air.

....

....

....

....

Run (get help)               Fight                     Ignore

Chapter Text

RUN (get help)         FIGHT          IGNORE

RUN (get help)        >FIGHT          IGNORE

FIGHT

Freezing, an ache in your chest starts up seeing Dream so vulnerable and….and hurt.

You weigh your options. 

There are three of them. And one of you.

One unhealthy and not very athletic you. Against three dog monsters. You aren't sure you will be even able to get dream out of this. Doubts swim around your mind, heart racing. 

You need to act….

So you pick up a pebble….and throw it

sigh, you're about to get your ass whooped.

It smacks the closest dog monster on the head. He yelps and rubs his head, his ears flick, and with a low growl, all three monsters swivel to face you. 

Their hackles rise and their eyes gleam maliciously as they take in your frame. You manage to square your shoulders and shout out to them.

“Oi, dickheads!” The words cut through the air sharply.

They mutter to each other nodding towards me and making ... .violent gestures. A white dog, with the friendliest looking face yips at you. You almost think it's cute until they start to stalk towards you.

Oh fuck

You feel the weight of your own heartbeat in your throat as you swallow, stomach twisting in unease.

"The hell are you doing? I've called the police, and they're on their way!”

The words ring out. 

Brave but desperate, and for a brief hopeful moment, you pray they’ll buy it. 

But your hope shrivels as the lead dog monster huffs out a cruel, wheezing snarl, its lips curling to reveal fangs that look sharp enough to tear metal.

“What do ya want human. This don't concern the likes ‘a you”. The one with the bone cigarette in his muzzle Says. The white fluffy dog tilts his head and yips again. Picking up dream by his hoodie. 

Dream looks up at you with a confused but horrified look. Then a slightly embarrassed one, he stutters but flinches when the third dog- well, wolf, snaps at him. 

Dream looks oddly drained, sure He was and still is terribly injured when he fell into your balcony…he was still dangerous, but now he just looks drained.

“Get your paws offa him. He's helpless- you cowards! Picking on someone who can  defend themselves.”

Dream gets a slightly annoyed look on his battered face. 

Your words only seem to enrage the leader it seems. He snarls again and points at you, the two others baring their teeth.

Your bluff was nothing but noise to them.

They lunge, all three at once.

Your gut screams at you to move, and you manage a frantic dodge to the side, rolling out of the way just as one of them, the burly looking wolf, snaps at your arm, jaws clamping inches from your shoulder. Grazing it.

Pain stabs through your shoulder as you hit the ground hard, and you scramble to your feet, barely keeping your balance as the creatures circle, closing in tighter.

They're supposed to pull you into an encounter- why aren't they doing that? There's rules monsters follow…at least…that's what you were taught!

One leaps forward and you swing, a fist colliding with his muzzle. There’s a moment of shock as he yelps, more annoyed than hurt, and you try to press the advantage by jabbing at his face again. 

But he's faster than you.

With a snarl, he sidesteps and drives his head into your stomach. The impact knocks the wind out of you, and you crumple, gasping as the ground rushes up to meet you again.

“that's it human. Stay down” the wolf rumbles.

The dog with the cig grins as he looks over your trembling body as you try get up from the ground.

“two sacks o’ EXP, aye ice wolf? What a lucky day for us.” he sounds giddy…

“They're tryna play hero? I'll never understand humans” ice wolf says with a laugh.

The white fluffy one yips as he holds dream in his paws. Dream looks way out if it, his eyelights are fizzling as he bares his teeth.

The words echo in your head. Sacks of EXP.

What does exp mean again…?

The wolf’s rumbling voice is almost taunting, and the way the three of them watch you, like you’re nothing more than prey.

It sends a surge of pure petty anger through you.

Yes, you're not that dangerous. But you sure all hell aren't helpless either.

You grit your teeth, adrenaline numbing the ache in your ribs as you push yourself up from the ground.

You swear to whatever being is incharge of life, this skeleton better make this worth your while.

From the corner of your eye, you spot a busted wooden chair sticking out of a nearby dumpster. Its leg is long and jagged, looks like it could serve as a decent makeshift weapon. You stagger over to it, fingers curling around the wood, then tighten your grip.

“Hey fluffball!” you shout, waving the chair leg at the white, fluffy dog holding Dream. 

The dog’s ears flicker, and he glances over, still gripping Dream by the hoodie. 

You don’t wait for him to react.

With all the strength you can muster, you launch the chair leg at him like a javelin. 

…..

*miss*

You miss completely and the chair's leg spins Through the air before clattering on the ground at the end of the alley.

“Ah…”

“ahaha! you stupid bit-”

The white dog perks up and to your surprise, drops dream and darts towards the chair leg with his tail wagging happily as he runs on all fours.

“Wha- Hey! Lesser come back here!” The ice wolf growls and lunges after the fluffy dog, their focus briefly pulled from you as they bark and snap at each other, having the leg in each other's mouths and playing a very violent game of tug and war.

You don’t waste a second.

You sprint over to Dream, who’s struggling to get up, blinking blearily. “Dream! C’mon man it's not even been a full day yet and im helping your nonexistent ass. AGAIN”.

A low growl freezes you in place. 

The dog with the cigarette clamped between his teeth steps forward, eyes narrowing as he stalks toward you, slow and deliberate, his gaze locked on you with a dangerous glint. 

You hold your breath, heart racing as you try to figure out what to do next. 

Shitshitshit

Your mind’s racing through every scrap of advice you’ve ever heard about handling monsters, but none of it’s helping.

You stand perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe, and to your amazement, the dog’s gaze seems to slide right past you. He sniffs the air….looking around you and spluttering

Dream pants softly and holds his side with his hand, golden blood leaks from him again. I grunts and pushes his face onto your shoulder to whisper in your ear.

“Be still…. He can-cannot see you if you do not move”. Dream sighs and looks back at the monster. Gritting his teeth.

“Eh? Where’d they go?” he mutters, glancing around. “Ice Wolf! Where’s the sacks o’ EXP?”

“You lost em?” Ice Wolf snarls back, frustrated, as he finally tears himself away from the fluffier dog. “Well, get lookin’, will ya?”

You stifle a nervous laugh, at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

Like seriously he can't see you because your not moving??

The dog sniffs around you, completely missing both you and dream. He takes a drag of his dog treat before eating It. Dream leans more against you, seemingly getting weaker.

“Psst, Dream,” you whisper, reaching out to shake him softly. “Get ready to run… Can you even run right now?”

Dream groans, his eyelights flickering as he manages to focus on you. “I… I’m fine…” he mutters, but he’s clearly anything but fine.

“Fine?” You shake your head. “You’re barely conscious!”

“You are not exactly the picture of strength right now either…” he mutters back with a very brattish but pained looking pout.

“Touché,” you admit.

But you don’t have time for banter right now.

The white fluffy dog is on his back chewing on the chair leg while the wolf tries to drag him away. The one that can't see non-movement is currently nose first in a bin. 

Carefully, you slip your hand around dreams waist, his arm slumped over your shoulders. You wince as you haul him to his feet. Your own injuries sting under the strain.

“Alright, we’re just gonna… quietly walk away…” you whisper, taking small steps, hoping the monsters are too distracted to notice. For a few tense moments, it works.

But then Dream stumbles, leaning too hard on you, and your foot slips on a stray rock. 

You gasp, the sound too loud in the silence, and the dog with the cigarette snaps his head around, eyes locking onto you.

“Oi! There they are!”

“Run!” you yell, practically dragging Dream as you break into a sprint. The dog monsters are right behind you, their snarls and growls echoing through the alley as they chase you down, their heavy footsteps pounding against the concrete.

You shove dream out of the alley way and sprint up the apartment stairs, he stumbles slightly but pushes himself to hurry. The dog monsters stop chasing us when we leave the alley way. Barking out curses and threats…..then it just devolves into barking.

The second you slam the apartment complex door shut, your chest heaves as you lean against it, panting like you’ve just run a marathon. Dream stumbles in behind you, his arm still draped over your shoulder, his weight threatening to pull you down with him. You grit your teeth and adjust, half-carrying, half-dragging him toward the staircase.

“You… really know how to make friends, huh?” you huff, side eyeing him as the both of you begin the slow climb upward. 

Each step feels like scaling a damn mountain, especially with Dream’s lanky, nearly-dead weight dragging against you.

Dream doesn’t respond, save for a low groan. His eyelights flicker faintly, casting weak golden glimmers against the dim stairwell walls. 

His golden blood drips in little spatters on the steps, leaving a breadcrumb trail you desperately hope your landlord won't see on the cameras and decide you need to clean up.

By the time you reach your floor, you’re ready to collapse yourself. “You better appreciate this,” you mutter under your breath as you shove your apartment door open with your shoulder, hauling him inside. 

You kick the door shut with your foot and guide him to the couch, where he practically collapses. Trying to become one with the couch 

You can relate to the feeling

You plant your hands on your hips, glaring at him. 

He looks….surprised? Horrified? Deep in thought at least. His leg bounces as he mulls over his thoughts. Stress in his eyes as he worries his hands together.

“Seriously, Dream? AGAIN? What is it with you and needing to be saved? You’re supposed to be like- good at fighting since you're from the underground or whatever.”

Dream snaps out of his daze and winces, his face twists with humiliation, golden blooms over his cheek bones.

 His eyelights shift up to yours before he looks away again, he mutters, “I… I do not intend to be a burden. You should not have-”

“Don’t even start,” you interrupt, waving a hand at him.

“I’m just saying, if I’m going to keep saving your bony ass, you owe me. Big time. The money ya left on the counter is nulled now.”

Dream lowers his skull, his fingers weakly writhing and hooking against each other as he messes with them.

“I am… sorry,” he murmurs, voice so soft it catches you off guard. “I… I truly did not mean to cause you trouble again.”

His tone makes you feel kinda bad for him now. 

The snarky retort you had ready dies in your throat as you watch him. His shoulders slumped, his whole posture radiating exhaustion and guilt. 

You sigh heavily, running a hand through your hair.

“Alright, alright, don’t look so pathetic,” you grumble.

You walk into the kitchen and hop onto your counter to reach back into the cabinet For the healing salve you used on him last time. Looking back over your shoulder, Dream looks….genuinely upset.

He has his hands balled into fists on his knees. His shoulders squared and his mouth pressed into a thin line. His eyes are intently staring into the wood, you have expect it to catch fire

That clenching feeling starts up in your chest again. The familiar feeling of something squeezing your soul…

Ugh

“I’m just giving you shit. I don’t actually mind, okay? It's not like you asked to be attacked…..But seriously, you owe me a day of no sarcasm and comments on my healin’ at the very least.” you say in a definitely mature and calm voice and not in a huffy juvenile tone.

Dream glances up at you, a flicker of relief crossing his face. “I… I shall try.” A shaky wry grin makes its way onto his face.

That's better.

“You better,” you mutter, pulling out some gauze and antiseptic. “Now sit still and let me patch you up before you leak all over my couch n’ floor again.”

He winces but obeys, letting you clean and bandage the gash across his ribs. It’s not pretty, all his ‘older’ wounds have been aggravated and agitated. The cracks haven't spread thankfully. You try your best to rebandage him. 

It’ll hold for now.

As you work he’s uncharacteristically quiet, only grunting softly when the antiseptic and salve stings. He looks upset.

By the time you’re done, you collapse onto the floor next to his legs, exhausted. Only when you look down at your own wounds do you start to feel the dull aching and stings of them.

“You’re lucky I don’t charge for this,” you mutter, letting the healing supplies sprawl on the floor. “But seriously… try not to die next time you decide to leave without telling me”.

Dream looks even more guilty now, sheepishly smiling.

“I shall… endeavour to survive. For your sake.”

“Good,” you reply, leaning your head back against the couch. “Because next time, I’m charging you for all of this”.

You sit at your small kitchen table with your phone in hand, watching Dream out of the corner of your eye. 

He’s perched on the couch, his posture stiff, staring at a blank spot on the wall. You’ve tried, several times, to get him to talk about the monsters that hopped him, to explain why they attacked, if he even knew them. You tried to ask him why he left so fast too…but all you’ve gotten are curt, one-word answers.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps.”

It’s so frustrating.

 His silence only fuels your worry, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the faint way his shoulders tremble. He looks upset, and pressing him further feels like the wrong move.

Too bad you don't care if it's right or not. You'll Be getting answers out of him one way or another.

With a huff, you turn around and toddle up to the cutting board. If words aren’t working, maybe food will. 

You chop up the last of the fruit you had lying around. apples, oranges, some grapes. Oh! Your strawberries aren't mouldy yet! Tossing them together into a makeshift fruit salad.

Simple, but food is food. It's enough to lighten the mood, you hope.

When you set the bowl in front of him on the coffee table, Dream blinks, as if startled out of some deep thought. 

His eyelights flicker as he glances between you and the fruit, his hand hesitating before picking up the spoon.

“Fruit salad,” you say lightly, trying to keep your tone casual. 

“Figured you could use something to eat…. Uh yeah so- eat”.

Dream stares at the bowl for a moment longer before giving a faint nod. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly, and for the first time since the incident, you see a hint of relief cross his face. 

He takes a bite, then another and another. He seems to relax a little bit more, his eyes less hard and soft again. He looks a little less weighed down, a little more present.

You sit beside him, resting your chin in your palm, watching as he eats in silence. 

You want to ask again. About the monsters. About why they were after him. But the furrow in his brow and the way he avoids your gaze stops you.

Instead, you say, “So… your swords… why didn't you don't them?” You try to keep it light, but your voice betrays your worry. “I mean you weren't fighting with them when you- uh-”

Dream pauses mid-bite, his eyelights narrowing faintly. 

He sets the spoon down carefully, his fingers lingering on the edge of the bowl. 

“My magic is how I summon my blades, and It is… diminished,” he says slowly, weighing each word. “Negativity poisons the air here. Corrupts it. My magic… it thrives on hope, on positive feelings. And when such things are absent…” He trails off.

You feel a nagging feeling in your soul, like something is trying to ease you. But it doesn't work.

His jaw tightens, he looks reluctant to speak more. “...It is difficult for magic to work.”

You lean forward slightly. “So, the monsters—”

“I do not wish to discuss them,” Dream interrupts, his voice quiet but firm. His gaze finally meets yours, and there’s a heaviness in it that makes your chest tighten. “They were able to overpower me in ways that they should not have been able to. But that is all I will say.”

His tone makes it clear the subject is closed, and you bite back a frustrated sigh. 

“Alright,” you say softly, leaning back. “I won’t push.”

Dream picks up the spoon again, but there’s a faint tremble in his hand. “You should not worry yourself over this,” he murmurs, not looking at you. “It is temporary. I will recover.”

You aren’t sure you believe him, but for now, you let it go. 

“Fine,” you say after a moment. “But if you get up and leave again without telling me i'm ignoring your ass if you get attacked again”.

Dream huffs softly and stuffs fruit into his mouth. “I shall endeavour to avoid disappearing acts in the future”.

It’s not much of an explanation, or conversation at this point, about what happened. But it’s something.

The two of you sat in the quiet for a while after that.

 You found yourself glancing at Dream more than you'd care to admit, trying to gauge his mood or his health, or maybe just trying to understand why you cared so much. 

He was practically a stranger, after all. 

A cryptic, yellow, frustrating stranger who for some reason you feel responsible for.

Maybe it was the way golden eyelights aren't as bright as you remember, or how his tiara is crookedly sitting on his skull…. the way he seemed almost  lost. 

Or maybe you just couldn’t stomach the thought of anyone else finding him in the state you had.

You sighed, shaking your head at yourself. Whatever the reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to kick him out.

“Hold on,” you said suddenly, standing up and heading to your room. Dream looked up, confused, but didn’t say anything as you returned a moment later with a proper blanket and a pillow. 

“Here,” you muttered, tossing the pillows onto the couch beside him. “That grey blanket sucks. It’s scratchy. Use this one instead.”

Dream blinked, his eyelights flickering faintly. “You did not have to—”

“I know ,” you interrupted, throwing your favourite fluffy blanket over his skull. “Just take it, alright? No arguments.”

He hesitated but eventually nodded, pulling the blanket over his lap. His fingers brushed the soft fabric, and for a moment, his face softened, some of the tension easing from his posture. 

You sit beside him, leaning back with your arms crossed.

“You know,” you began, trying to keep your tone light, “if you’re planning on sticking around for a bit, maybe you should stay longer than a single night. Give yourself time to actually, I don’t know, heal .”

Dream stiffened, his gaze snapping to you. “I cannot impose on you any further—”

“Oh come on,” you cut him off again, leaning forward with an inquisitive look. “You’re not imposing. I’m the one offering, aren’t I? Besides, you’re in no condition to go anywhere right now. You'll just get your ass handed to you again the second you leave.”

Dream’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his fingers clenching the blanket. “It is… not that simple.”

You frowned, sensing his hesitation. “What’s not simple about it? You stay here, rest, recover. I’ll even let you have the couch. No strings attached this time.”

He still didn’t look at you, but his hands relaxed slightly, the tension in his shoulders ebbing. “I… appreciate your concern,” he said slowly, his voice low. “But I do not wish to be a burden.”

“Dream,” you said firmly, and he finally glanced at you, his expression uncertain. “You’re not a burden alright? And if you really feel bad about it, you can pay me back once you’re better. Deal?”

He still looks hesitant, nervous. He messes with the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Look, dream. I know you met me like, actually 2 or 3 days ago. But I promise I'm ok with you staying here for a little while. Just do the basics like clean up after yourself, don't go into my room and tell me when you're heading out.”

There was a long pause before he gave a reluctant nod. “Very well. I… shall stay. For a week.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, nodding back.

Dream seemed to retreat into his thoughts again after that, his expression pensive. But this time, the weight on his shoulders seemed just a little lighter.

You sigh and stand up, picking up the fruit bowl and taking it to the kitchen to clean up.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see a dream gently cradling his broken phone and rubbing at his eyes…. With a frown you continue to clean to bowel

Chapter Text

The next few days have been a little bit weird.

Not bad necessarily, but definitely not normal either. Having someone else in your space, someone as reserved and carefully polite as Dream has thrown your usual routine off balance. You’ve gotten used to your relatively quiet evenings and the comfort of your own company, 

So sharing your home with someone is an adjustment even if it's only for a week.

Dream has been keeping mostly to himself. Sometimes it’s easy to forget he’s even there. 

He moves through the apartment quietly.

He's unintentionally scared the shit out of you while rounding a corner a couple of times. You've warned him again and again it will end up with your knuckles in his face accidentally if he keeps it up.

You’d catch him now and then sitting near the window, lost in thought, or tidying up something that doesn’t need tidying. 

It’s polite you suppose, but it also feels... fake. He’s trying to keep himself busy so as to not talk to you, or make himself as invisible as possible to not be detected by you.

Still, there are moments where the quiet breaks, little shifts that make you think he’s starting to ease up.

On the first day, though, those moments are few and far between. 

Dream is skittish again, like when you first met. The polite way he responds to you feels more like a defensive reflex than genuine engagement. He answers your questions with carefully measured words, offering no more than is necessary. 

You don't really understand why he's reverted back to being so on guard. You've literally bandaged him back together on the first meeting and rescued him on the second.

You asked if he wanted to watch a movie with you, hoping it might help him relax, but his body language said everything you needed to know before he even answered. Tense shoulders, averted gaze. He didn’t want to say no, but he also didn’t want to say yes. 

"Hey," you call softly, careful not to startle him. 

He sits by the window in the living room, the only indication that he's listening to you is the slight head tilt in your direction. but he doesn’t turn around. 

"I was going to watch a movie. Thought you might want to join me." You say awkwardly, internally cringing at the obvious tension still heavy in the air.

Dream hesitates, glancing over his shoulder with a polite guarded expression. "Thank you for the invitation," he says, his tone painfully formal, "but I wouldn’t want to intrude."

You huff, trying not to let your frustration show. "You’re not intruding. Just thought it would be a good way to, ya know, chillax a bit?"

He finally turns to face you. His shoulders stiffened a little and he clasped his hands together in front of him. "I appreciate the offer," he says, his tone is dismissive "but I think I’ll stay here."

For a moment, you consider pushing the issue, but the tense set of his posture stops you…..and the fact that he gets up and walks out to the balcony the second you open your mouth again.

“Fine ignore me then, not like I'm taking care of ya or nothing”. You mutter under your breath saltily. 

By the second day, there’s a subtle change in his behaviour. Dream still isn’t exactly comfortable persay…. but he’s less on edge!

 He doesn’t flinch at every sound anymore, and while he still keeps his distance, there’s something less standoffish about it. It’s like he’s testing the waters, figuring out where he fits. 

The two of you exist in a sort of quiet awkwardness

You find Dream seated at the kitchen table, hunched over a cup of lavender tea, absently flipping through an old book you’d left lying around. A book about bugs and plant life of each country.

He doesn’t look up as you enter, but you notice his posture is a little less rigid than the day before.

"Oh you found my old books huh?" you ask, leaning against the counter.

Dream hums in response, a small nod accompanying the sound. "It’s... interesting," he says after a moment. Looking up at you this time when he speaks to you.

You nod and move to the living room turning on the TV. scrolling aimlessly through the options you find a TV show you haven't watched in years. Grimm.

"I’m putting on something dumb and mind-numbing," you call over your shoulder. "If you want to join me, no pressure."

There’s a long pause, and you grunt grumpily, but then you hear the soft scrape of a chair against the floor. When you glance back, Dream is standing hesitantly in the doorway, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie.

He doesn’t sit, but he stays there, leaning against the wall with a faintly curious expression as the show begins.

It’s on the third day that you notice the walls coming down, just a little. 

You come home from work, tired and ready to collapse on the couch, only to be greeted by Dream in the kitchen. He’s standing there with a mug in hand, and for the first time, he looks relaxed or at least as close to it as you’ve seen.

The door creaks open as you step inside, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. The scent of something faintly herbal wafts from the kitchen, and you glance over to see Dream stirring a mug of tea.

"Welcome back," he says, his tone lighter than you expected. He doesn’t look at you immediately, but there’s a subtle warmth in his voice that wasn’t there before.

"Thanks," you reply, chucking your coat on a chair. "Long day."

Dream turns slightly, tilting his head in a way that makes you realise he’s actually interested. 

huh.

"What happened?" he asks casually.

You blink, caught off guard by the question. 

"Oh, you know. The usual nonsense… A customer came in tellin’ me about how our coffee is shit and the place next door has much better coffee. Like- What? How do I even respond to that? Dumbass". You go off on a little tangent, but the dream seems to keep listening.

He chuckles softly. "I imagine that wasn’t particularly enjoyable."

"Not even a little," you reply with a burdened sigh, grabbing a soda from the fridge. "What about you? How was your day?"

He hesitates, but then his expression softens. "Quiet," he admits. "I’ve been looking at more of that book you left out. It’s... pleasant."

The conversation drifts from there, an easy back-and-forth that feels surprisingly natural. By the time you’re settled on the couch with your drink, you realise Dream has followed you into the living room, taking a seat in the armchair across from you.

By the fourth day, He seems to accept your presence somewhat. 

You're sitting on the couch scrolling through your phone, the TV playing in the background for some white noise. 

When dream enters the room.

He hesitates, as ge always does, but this time its different. Instead of retreating to the armchair he's claimed as his own, he looks at the empty stop on the couch beside you.

You glance up and pat the cushion beside you. "There’s room here, you know. You don’t have to exile yourself to the corner."

Dream’s brow furrows slightly, but after a moment of deliberation, he nods. He sits down, keeping a polite distance between you, but it’s the closest he’s been since you've gotten him to stay.

Not one for being subtle, you look beside you and pop your phone in your pocket. Tilting your head and nodding at his chest. 

“How's the wound?” You need to remember to pick up more healing stuff next time you run to the shops.

Dream shifts slightly, adjusting his position on the couch as though the question brings the discomfort to the forefront. His hand hovers near his chest for a moment before resting neatly in his lap. 

“The wound is healing adequately,” he replies, his voice as measured as ever. “Your assistance has been most effective.”

You snort at his formal tone, leaning back against the cushions and grinning. “You could just say, ‘It’s fine, thanks.’”

Dream glances at you, the faintest flicker of amusement in his shining eye sockets. “Perhaps. But that would not properly convey my gratitude.” His voice has a playful quirk to it now.

“Gratitude?” you tease lightly. “For patching you up? or for me shoving you onto the couch every night?”

His brow furrows, but there’s no sharpness to it. “For both,” he concedes after a pause, his tone sincere.

You raise an eyebrow, not quite expecting that answer. “Well, I’ll take it. But seriously, if you need something for it—painkillers, more bandages, whatever—just let me know. No use sitting here suffering in silence.”

Dream shakes his head. “You’ve done more than enough. I do not wish to impose further.”

“Impose?” you scoff, crossing your arms. “You’re not imposing, Dream. You’re healing. Big difference.”

For a moment, he’s quiet, his gaze fixed on the TV, though you can tell he isn’t paying attention to the show. The soft flicker of the screen reflects in his eyelights, and there’s a faint tension in his jaw that wasn’t there before.

“You are very kind,” he says finally, almost reluctantly, as if the admission costs him something.

It throws you off for a second, but you recover quickly, offering a lopsided grin. “Don’t go spreading that around. I’ve got a reputation to keep, you know.”

Dream chuckles and relaxes back onto the couch.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence after that, the TV filling the space with background noise. It’s not much, but it feels like progress. Dream is here, sitting beside you instead of across the room. You feel happy…

Oh.

You feel happy that Dream is beside you.

….When did you not mind being close to Dream? being content close to him. You wouldn't mind being his friend you guess.

You take a peak over at Dream, who looks equally as content as you do. 

You smile a little

It had been lonely living by yourself in the apartment. You used to jump and get scared at every little sound. But now when there's a creak or a bump you feel a sort of comfort knowing its only dream. You are not alone anymore.

God your getting soft.

You go to bed that night feeling lighter than you have in a long time. The quiet of your apartment doesn’t feel so empty anymore, and the thought of Dream being just down the hall brings a strange sense of comfort. You fall asleep easily, a small smile playing on your lips.

The next morning, you wake up to the insistent buzzing of your phone alarm. You groan, turning it off with blurry eyes before finally dragging yourself out of bed. 

Your usual morning routine goes by in a blur.

A quick shower, a hasty breakfast of toast, eggs and tea, a frantic search for your keys. You’re running a little late, as usual, but you’re in a surprisingly good mood.

As you’re unlocking your apartment door, you hear a soft “Good morning” from behind you. 

You turn to see Dream standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets. He's still wearing the same damn hoodie you got him a while back, with some blood stains on them that didn't wash out in the washer.

You really need to get some new clothes for him. That's gross as hell

He's looking better and better each day thankfully. He doesn’t limp and the crack over his eye socket is almost gone, you aren't sure if it’ll scar or not.

The dark circles under his eyes are less pronounced, and there’s a faint flush to his cheekbones.

“Mornin’,” you reply, a lazy grin stretches across your face. “Sleep well?”

Dream nods, a small, almost hesitant smile mirroring your own. “Yes, thank you. And you?”

“Like a log,” you say, grabbing your bag. “Gotta run, though. Work calls.”

“Of course,” Dream says, he looks like he wants to say something important, but the click of the door seems to make him close his mouth. “Have…have a good day.”

“You too,” you call over your shoulder as you head down the stairs.

Fuck me its cold

You rub your hands together and blow on them as you spring down the stairs of the complex, looking for your bus card in your bag.

As you step out onto the street, you stop short. There is a figure leaning against the building across the street down the alleyway were you found dream, casually smoking a cigarette.

Oh fuck this

With your heart in your throat you hesitantly walk towards the alleyway.

Stupid god damn bus stop, why is it placed somewhere so sketchy.

The closer you get the more you can make out of the figure….it isn't dog like. 

There is a soft red glow over his chest, and thats all you need to see to know exactly who it is.

killer spots you and offers a lazy wave, a smirk playing on his lips.

You groan inwardly. “Seriously?” you mutter under your breath. “This guy is everywhere.”

You shake your head and start walking, trying to ignore him. But as you pass the alleyway, you hear a soft whistle. You glance over to see Killer gesturing for you to come over.

You hesitate for a moment, then sigh and cross the street. “What is it this time?” you ask, trying to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“Just saying hello,” Killer says, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Fancy seeing you again.”

“Yeah, real fancy,” you reply dryly. “It’s starting to feel less like a coincidence and more like you’re stalking me.”

Killer chuckles, a low, rumbling sound. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just happen to be in the neighbourhood.”

“Riggggght,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Well, I have to get to work. So, if you’ll excuse me…”

You turn to leave, but Killer steps in front of you, blocking your path. “Hold on a second,” he says, his smirk widening. “I was wondering… maybe we could grab coffee sometime? You know, hang out?”

Killer is fidgeting with a chocolate bar wrapper in one hand, the cig drooping from between his teeth.

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by the ‘casual’ invitation.

His eyes twinkle with amusement. “Unless you’re afraid?”

You scoff. “Afraid? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just… busy.”

“Come on,” Killer whines, somehow pouting. “It’ll be fun. I promise I won’t bite.” He winks, and you can’t help but humour him with a short chuckle.

“Fine,” you say, giving in. “I'm on my way in for work, It'll be a bit busier today but I don't think my boss is in so I can mess ‘round for a couple of hours.”

“Slay” Killer says, grinning.

“...did you just say slay?”

 He pulls a small piece of paper and a pen from his pocket and scribbles something down. “Here’s my number. Text me when you’re free.”

You take the paper and open your bag to drop it off, only then realising that you forgot your phone at home. You groan and give killer an exasperated look. 

“Left my phone at home” 

Killer chuckles and takes a drag of his cigarette before flicking it onto the ground, He….you assume rolls his eyes? You cant really tell. “ Sigh just like you.”

“How would you know?”

“You were always so forgetful!”

“You just met me”

“I mean all through…college…you were the exact same” Killer nudges your arm.

“Killer you don't even know my last name” 

The tone of your voice must have been particularly funny because he cuts himself off with a laugh. You shake your head and can't help but smile yourself. 

Your chest has been feeling lighter as of late.

“Ill meet you at the coffee shop, I gotta go back and get my phone”. You say to him.

He stands there with a grin. 

“Killer that means go away until I'm ready”. You say flatly, as much as you like this little playful banter with killer you don't want him to know where you live….he probably saw you come out of the complex but that's beside the point.

Killer pouts. “You hate me”

“What”

Killer starts walking down the alleyway.

“I know you hate me”

“Wh- killer I don't hate you?” You say with a laugh.

Killer simply waves over his shoulder and stalks off into the darkness.

Such a messer

You check the bus times on the stop, around 5 minutes until the bus comes. You hurriedly run back to your apartment, panting as you climb up each step.

Man you need to work out more.

Finally you get to your door and unlock it, walking in.

“Its only me! I forgot my phone”. You yell out to dream. “Now where the hell did i place my ph-”

*CRASH*

A sound like a thunderclap ripped through the air. 

It wasn't a rumble, but a sharp, shattering crash that seemed to vibrate through the walls of the building.

Aannnnnnd it came from the balcony.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat. For a split second, your mind struggled to identify the noise and if it actually came from your balcony

had a pot fallen?

Then, worry slammed into you. 

Dream is here. Had something happened to him? Had he fallen? You dropped your bag with a thud, your keys clattering to the floor, and rushed into the hallway.

"Dream!" you yelled, your voice laced with panic. 

You burst into the living room, your eyes immediately scanning for any sign of him. 

He was there, standing near the balcony door, his posture rigid, his eyelights wide with what you initially perceived as fear. But as you looked closer, you saw a smile. 

A wide, genuine smile that quickly morphed into a full-blown laugh.

“My plants!” 

"Cross!"

He was tall

Taller than Dream

With a broad build, He was dressed in a white jacket with straps that crossed his chest in an X. A black turtleneck-looking shirt under his coat. Black shorts with matching X’s.

But the most striking feature is the enormous sword he is wielding. The blade shines dully in the morning light, Sharp and clean.

It's as long as your damn leg!

It looked heavy and cumbersome, yet he held it with effortless ease.

This stranger's- well cross’s face was partially obscured by shadows cast by his hood, but you could make out that he was, in fact, another skeleton.

What is with you and attracting weird ass skeletons.

His eyes lock onto you. 

Turning from white to purple immediately and raising his sword.

…

And leaping towards you.

Chapter Text

The tension in the room is suffocating.

You sit stiffly on the couch, one hand clutching a mug of tea Dream had pressed into your hands moments earlier.

Across from you, Cross sits at the dining table, his arms crossed and his enormous sword leaning against his chair in full view, you know fully well he’s leaving it out in the open intending it to be threatening.

You’d do the same with your bat princess if you knew where you put it last…

 He hasn’t said a word, and honestly, you aren’t sure whether that’s better or worse.

The silence stretches unbearably, broken only by the occasional clink of Dream’s spoon as he stirs his tea.

He’s sitting beside Cross, far calmer than the situation warrants. Which is starting to really irk you.

He leans slightly against cross’s arm happily, as if that alone could make the chaos of the last ten minutes disappear.

You glance down at your tea, feeling the small cut on your cheek stinging faintly as you sip.

The way Dream had stepped between you so calmly like he’s done this exact thing countless. He moved you backwards so he was standing tall and unwavering in the face of Cross’s blade, He spoke in that weirdly soothing voice and Cross hesitated but stood down. you aren’t sure whether to be impressed or irritated.

Probably both.

You glare back up at Cross, who’s staring into your soul, his jaw tight and his glowing white pupils narrowed. He hasn’t looked away from you since Dream made him back off, and honestly, you’re not in the mood to play nice.

"So," you say, breaking the silence with a sharp tone that makes Dream’s head tilt slightly in your direction.

"Is normal for skeletons to break into people’s houses and threaten your life?"

Dream winces and looks sheepish while Cross’s eyes narrowing further, but he doesn’t

You don’t back down, raising your eyebrows in mock expectation as you lean back against the kitchen chair.

"Cross was...uh…he is very protective-," Dream says softly, his tone almost apologetic as he glances at the other skeleton.

"Protective," you repeat, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you tilt your head. "Right. That’s what we’re calling ‘trying to impale me with a sword’ now."

Cross’s scowl deepens, and for a second you think he might actually say something, but instead he huffs and looks away from you and looks at dream. The grip he has on his crossed arms tightens, his fingers digging into his arms.

"She is not a threat…" Dream says suddenly, his voice calm but carrying a weight that seems to pull the tension in the room tighter.

He leans forward slightly, his hands resting lightly on his knees as he addresses Cross directly. "She helped me when I needed it….She is really no threat to me-“ ok rude you’re maybe a bit of a threat “-she has been very kind, there is no need for..” He gestures toward the smashed pots on the balcony and the faint slash marks on the wall.

Cross stiffens, his glowing eyes flicking to Dream and then back to the floor. "I didn’t know who she was." he mutters, his voice low and rough making your hairs stand on end.

"And your first instinct was to swing a sword at me??" you snap, setting your mug down with more force than necessary, Making cross tense. "I mean, yes, ok, you came from an overly aggressive underground. I can forgive that. But breaking and entering? Is this a strictly skeleton thing?"

Dream awkwardly smiles and looks at the table, leaning back and giving you a glance that’s equal parts patient and weary. "He was just scared." he says, his voice softening slightly.

is he seriously defending the guy he has broken into your house, almost made you piss yourself and try to kill you?!

You roll your eyes, your frustration bubbling over. "Scared my ass," you mutter, folding your arms. "I don’t see how murder justifies almost turning me into a shish-kabab."

Cross’s jaw clenches visibly, his eyes flicking to you for a brief second before he mutters, "You were a threat."

You snort, shaking your head. "Oh, please. What do I look like, a sword-wielding assassin? With my flabby arms?"

Dream chuckles softly beside you, he pats crosses shoulder before looking back at you. "To be fair," he says, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of amusement, "you do have a sharp tongue."

Cross doesn’t seem to appreciate the humour.  He growls low in his throat, making your hair stand up, but doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he reaches for his mug of tea—still untouched—and wraps his large hands around it, his fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic.

You sigh, leaning back against the chair and letting your head cock to the side. The adrenaline has mostly worn off now, leaving behind exhaustion and a faint headache. The panic of getting to work on time has dissipated, even meeting killer, You start to feel weirdly numb…

 You’d deal with the consequences of that later. Right now you need to deal with whatever is happening here.

The smashed plant pots and scuffed walls in the living room feel like Déjà vu.

Dream turns his attention back to Cross, his voice dropping to that soft, soothing tone he always seems to default to. "Cross I'm… I'm happy you’re here now."

Cross’s posture shifts slightly at that, his shoulders loosening just a fraction as he finally raises his mug to his lips. He doesn’t say anything, but the faint tension in the air seems to ease. A slight purple dusts his cheeks as he nods stiffly.

You eye the both of them and narrow your eyes.

You glance between the two skeletons, trying to make sense of the unspoken conversation happening right in front of you. Dream’s gaze lingers on Cross, his expression gentle but firm.

“ok, stop undressing each other with your with your eyes. You’re not mysterious just weird”. You finally say with a huff.

Cross splutters and thumps on his chest while dream levels you with an unimpressed flat look. You give him a tight lipped sarcastic smile.

Dream sighs and turns to you "remember when I told you that I was a- erm…. A performer?" You give him a nod and cross gives him a look.

"When I failed to answer his calls, he grew concerned and took it upon himself to seek me out. He is not exactly comfortable in the presence of humans, and being startled, his instincts took precedence over reason."

Oh so instincts is an excuse to kill someone now huh.

He places a hand on Cross’s arm. Who looks at him with wide eyes.

"It was not a slight against you," he continues, his voice a perfect blend of politeness and placation. "An unfortunate response born of wariness rather than malice."

Dream is using that weird tone he uses sometimes, making you feel slightly fuzzy. Almost….coaxing. It calls to you to relax and to trust him, believe what he’s saying.

Cross relaxes further as dream speaks.

But you scowl at dream.

Before you can rip them both a new one, your phone buzzes loudly on the table. You glance down and immediately groan.

Boss: Hey. Need you at the café NOW. Emergency. Get here ASAP.

You clench your jaw.

Great. Just great.

Dream tilts his head at your expression. "Something wrong?"

You sigh, rubbing your temples. "Other than dealing with this fuck-face breaking into my home? my job’s calling me in. Apparently, it’s an emergency." You shove your phone back into your pocket and stand, your chair scraping against the floor. "I gotta go."

Cross growls at you almost immediately, you flinch back a little, and only now to you notice his left hand has gripped around the hilt of his massive anime sword. You level him with a look and dream looks very uncomfortable.

“don’t growl at me.” You growl back. Mature I know. With a sigh you grab your bag, keys and phone. Feeling stress build in your chest and your hands start to shake.

You turn toward Dream, narrowing your eyes as you gesture between him and Cross. "And while I’m gone, I need you to keep your murder-y friend here in check. No broken furniture. No broken plants. No bloodstains. The both of you better be fucking here when I get back. We are gonna have a long chat…”

Cross scoffs but says nothing. Dream looks like a kicked puppy and smiles nervously. "Of course”

You stare at him for a long moment, then at Cross, who looks one wrong move away from starting another fight.

Begrudgingly, you grab your bag and head for the door, casting one last wary glance at the two skeletons before stepping out.

You have a bad feeling about this.

The second you step onto the bus your shoulders lock up, an uncomfortable tightness coils in your chest. Your breath feels shallow, too quick, like you can’t quite pull in enough air. You blink rapidly, willing the burning in your eyes to subside, but the tears are already threatening to spill.

You press yourself against the cool bus window, staring outside so no one sees your face turning red and your eyes shimmering. Your knee bounces uncontrollably, hands gripping your bag so tightly your knuckles ache. The pressure in your throat builds as a  lump you can’t seem to swallow down starts to form.

Maybe it’s the stress of trying to get dream to open up, or the fact that you’ve been taking care of him and worrying.

Or the fact that another random ass skeleton has broken into your home, destroyed your property and pointed a deadly weapon at you. Yeah. That could be it.

You suck in a slow, measured breath through your nose, holding it for a count of four before exhaling through your mouth.

Steady.

You have to be steady.

You can’t show up to work looking like you just barely avoided a murder attempt.

The lump in your throat refuses to go away.

With a shaky exhale you pull out your phone, desperate for a distraction. You scroll mindlessly through TikTok videos, changing to Instagram reels to ‘change it up a bit’. Your eyes flick over videos you aren’t really watching, hoping the familiar comfort of mind numbing internet consumption will help ground you.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Ignore the shaking in your hands.

By the time the bus slows to your stop, the tightness in your chest has dulled into something manageable, but your nerves are still fried.

You step off, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, pushing your way through the evening crowd with your head down.

The café isn’t far. Just a few minutes away.

you’ll be fine. you can handle this.

The bell above the door jingles as you step inside, and the warm scent of coffee and pastries washes over you like a familiar embrace. The comforting hum of conversation, the whir of the espresso machines

it’s normal. Safe. Predictable.

You can do normal.

Even if your hands are still shaking.

“finally there you are- this is the second time this week you’ve been late. Its your responsibility to be-“

You tune your boss out that point, dully nodding your head and apologising in a flat tone. Your anxiety spikes with his degrading and demanding tone. You feel that sickness start to build in the back of your throat.

“ugh, look, Just get behind the counter there’s like a million people in here”. He stalks off with his phone in his back to his office. Everybody knows he’s not doing work in there and is watching greys anatomy. Dickhead.

You exhale shakily, forcing your feet to move toward the stockroom. The apron feels stiff in your hands as you tie it around your waist, but at least the repetitive action gives you something to focus on.

Just get through the shift. Don’t think about the random skeleton in your home.

You push forward to the counter, pasting on the best smile you can manage.

The next customer steps up, a nice woman with blondish hair. Shes becoming a regular around here, she starts rattling off their order: a mocha with oat milk.

Your hands fumble slightly as you grind the espresso, and the milk frother hisses too loudly when you start steaming.

You flinch at the sound, a flash of a sword coming towards you….dreams and cross’s

….you’re going to ignore that for now….

Hands unsteady as you pour the drink, It takes you a second longer than usual to drizzle the chocolate on top, but you manage, sliding the cup toward the customer.

“Here you go. Have a nice day,” you say, voice tight.

The next customer steps up.

And your stomach pinches a little.

Killer.

He leans against the counter, arms crossed, a slow grin stretching across his lips. He lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “Wow. Look who finally decided to show up.”

Your suddenly not in the mood to be speaking with him. Having it being surprisingly busy and what happened with cross….as well as your boss. Youre realy not in the mood for his shit.

But It seems you really don’t get a choice in the matter.

You swallow hard, trying to will your face into something neutral.

“What’ll it be?” you ask flatly, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as strained as it feels.

Killer taps a gloved finger against his chin, drawing out the silence. “Hmm. I was gonna get coffee, but considering how long it took you to show up, I probably shouldn’t risk anything too complicated.”

Your grip tightens on the counter. “Killer.” You warn with a strained tone, looking at the growing line behind him.

His grin widens at your exasperated tone. “Relax, I’ll go easy on ya. Just a hot chocolate like last time. But more chocolaté.” He says in a sing song voice, doing. A weird little shimmy in place as he says ‘chocolaté’.

You nod quickly and avert your gaze, turning toward the espresso machine,  pulling out the chocolate powder as you froth the milk with your other hand.

your desperate for something anything—to focus on. Your slowly realising your having an anxious episode.

Of course you didn’t think to take any sort of soothing item with you or your pills, why would you? It’s been a while since it’s gotten this bad.

“Hey.”

You hesitate, gripping the edge of the counter before forcing yourself to glance back at him.

His usual grin is still there, but his eyes… his eyes are different, those normally mooned sockets are now wide and rounded. He’s watching you too closely, like he’s piecing something together, like he’s noticing.

He always looks so self-aware. Too self-aware.

Noticing the way your hands haven’t stopped shaking. The way your posture is too stiff, too rigid. The way you still haven’t quite settled since you walked through that door.

For a second, you think he might say something about it. He hesitates and his grin dulls a little. His head tilts down to look at the soft tremble in your hands.

But then, just as quickly, the moment shifts.

“Don’t mess it up like last time yeah?” he drawls, his smirk tilting playfully. “Would hate to see you screw up something so simple.”

The tension in your chest doesn’t fade, but the gall of him to say that to you does work as a good distraction

“Here,” you say, voice clipped. “Extra chocolaté just for you. And extra cream, lucky I aint charging you extra…”

Killer picks up the cup, tilting his head as he inspects it. “Hmm. Not bad, not bad.” He takes a slow sip, smacking his lips obnoxiously before giving you a lazy grin. “Didn’t even screw it up this time. I’m so proud.”

You shoot him a flat look. “Wow. Your faith in me is overwhelming.”

He hums, tapping his fingers against the side of the cup. “Yeah, well, you do look like you’re about to pass out, so can you really blame me? You’re as pale as my bones are.”

You stiffen as your face scrunches in slight panic. “I-”

“Nah, nah, don’t go all defensive on me,” he interrupts, waving a hand. “I’m just saying, y’know, if you did pass out, I’d have to be all dramatic about it. Catch you in my arms, maybe faint a little myself for effect. It’d be a whole thing.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitch. “Uh-huh. Your so fucking weird.”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “Oh, you are just so mean to me.”

You roll your eyes but exhale a little slower, the tightness in your chest easing just a fraction. It’s so easy for him, pulling you into this ridiculous back-and-forth, steering you away from the gnawing weight of earlier.

Killer taps his fingers against the counter, his gaze never quite leaving you. “So. You gonna tell me what’s got you wound up, or do I have to start guessing?”

You frown, Grabbing the money from his outstretched hand after he pulls it back for the 3^rd time to tease you. “Nothing’s wrong- gimme that.”

He just looks at you. The kind of look that makes your skin itch, like he’s stripping you down to your thoughts and picking them apart.

“Lemme guess,” he starts, tilting his head. “Something went down before work. And judging by the way you look about two seconds from snapping, I’d say it was pretty fun.

Your stomach twists. You really aren’t sure how to feel about killer despite him being so friendly. Alarm bells rattle off in your mind but when has your mid ever been right about things? He’s just so……cynical and unsettling. But funny and kinda nice to hang around.

You really need to make more friends.

You huff, crossing your arms. “that’s none of your business.”

“Well, am I wrong?”

You glare. He grins.

“heh. Thought so.” He takes another sip of his drink, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You stress too much. Gonna give yourself wrinkles before your time. Well more than you already have.”

You scoff and almost stomp your foot down. “Gee, thanks for the concern.” You say through gritted teeth.

God hes got me baby raging

“Anytime.” He leans forward slightly, voice dropping just a bit. “Seriously, though. Breathe, yeah?”

You blink again.

As much as you hate to admit it, there’s something reassuring about that.

You take a slow breath, grounding yourself against the cool metal of the counter.

“Better,” Killer murmurs, his tone unusually soft. But then, just as quickly, the smirk is back.

“ok now that you have your drink- piss off” You playfully swat him away with your tea towel and he loudly complains that he’s going to speak to your manager. You chuckle and take the next order of the next person.

The day drags on and on and on. Stress building now that rush hour has come.

The café is still buzzing, no scratch that, it’s swamped.

A line of impatient customers stretches almost to the door, and the register beeps in protest at yet another order coming through. You barely have a second to breathe before turning to grab the next cup, movements stiff and mechanical.

And Killer?

Killer is still here.

He leans against the counter, entirely unfazed by the chaos around him. His fifth time now lining up in line just to come harass you.

His half-finished hot chocolate sits beside him, forgotten in Favor of watching you fumble through the rush.

“Killer,” you hiss under your breath, barely dodging a steaming cup as your coworker passes behind you. “I don’t have time for this. Either order something else or move.”

He grins. “Nah.”

You glare at him, grabbing an extra hot coffee black and passing it to an old man who is standing behind killer impatiently, he mutters under his breath ‘fuckin monsters’ before shuffling away. Killer only seems to grin wider while you inwardly scoff at the man.

 “There’s a line.”

“Yeah, and?” He tilts his head, unconcerned. “They’ll live.”

You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat. “You will die if you don’t get out of the way.”

He chuckles, completely undeterred. Infact he leans against the counter and the ever bright target on his chest flickers. He has a mean looking grin on his face. “I’d love to see ya try sweetheart.”

Your fingers twitch around the cup you’re holding. You might actually launch it at his stupid mug.

“call me sweetheart again and ill break your arm bone and shove it up your ass.”

Still, even with the frustration simmering under your skin, you can’t ignore the way his presence keeps you distracted. The tightness in your chest, the weight pressing against your ribs, it’s still there, but it doesn’t feel as suffocating with him standing so close.

“oh by the way” he starts “I heard that there’s gonna be a new bar opening up around the corner from here-”

You roll your eyes. “Great. Now leave.”

“-Once it opens up we gotta go there, Have the BEST spicey burgers in the multiverse. I swear”

You completely ignore what killer blabs on about when another pick up order prints from the machine. You barely manage to keep yourself from screaming.

“heeeeyyyyy….are you even listening to me? Rude ass” Killer pouts at you like a child and pops his hip out to the side. The line behind him keeps getting longer and longer.

“You have to go at some point,” you mutter, hoping he’ll take the hint.

He hums like he’s considering it, then takes a long, slow sip of his drink. “Mmm. Nope. Think I’ll stay right here.”

You let your head drop forward against the counter with a quiet thud.

Killer laughs, nudging your arm with his elbow. “C’mon,, don’t be so dramatic. Just think, when your shift is over, I’ll still be here, waiting.”

You lift your head just enough to glare at him. “That’s not comforting.”

“Sure it is,” he says, all smug and satisfied. “ok ok look. The cool amazing bar that’s opening up? Agree to go with me and ill leave.

You groan, grabbing the next cup, Filling it with coffee before frothing the milk and making a little heart in the coffee.

“fine! Just move its rush hour”

Killer smirks like he’s just won a game, grabbing his half-finished hot chocolate and stepping aside. finally.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he teases, taking an obnoxiously loud sip.

You know that damn hot chocolate is cold to. Somehow making it more annoying to listen to.

“gimme yer phone” He says in a giddy tone. The target over his chest flickering rapidly and the ooze in his sockets seems to lesson.

You don’t even bother responding as you thrust your phone into his hand, already turning to the next order. The café is a war zone, shouts of names, the hiss of steaming milk, the rhythmic tap-tap of cups being set down. You fall into autopilot, hands moving faster than your thoughts, barely keeping up with the rush.

At some point, you hear your phone being put onto the counter and the door chime, Killer finally leaving, but you’re too buried in work to check. You grab your phone and shove it back into your pocket.

The line keeps growing, customers tapping impatiently at their phones, and the espresso machine lets out a grating beep that makes you want to throw it out the window.

It isn’t until the rush finally dies down, leaving you catching your breath and wiping down the counter, that your phone vibrates in your apron pocket.

You sigh, already knowing who it’s from.

SexySkelly: u miss me yet? 😉

SexySkelly: better not flake on our date, sweetheart

You roll your eyes so hard they nearly fall out of your head.

You: it’s not a date.

His reply is almost instant.

SexySkelly: aw come on, u get a free shot out of it😏

Bus girl changed SexySkelly to PainInMyHole

PainInMyHole: aw what

You: Why is my name bus girl still???

PainInMyHole: *Cat meme*

PainInMyHole: *Cat meme*

PainInMyHole: *Cat meme*

You: Def living up to ur name change

PainInMyHole: *Cat meme*

You groan, shoving your phone back into your pocket.

This is going to be so annoying.

The café is finally settling into a lull, the worst of the rush over. Your feet ache, your shoulders feel like they’ve been carrying bricks, and the thought of finally clocking out is the only thing keeping you from passing out right here.

As soon as your shift is over, you don’t waste a second. Coat on, bag slung over your shoulder, you push out the café doors, the cold air biting against your skin. The streets are busy, neon lights flickering to life as the city shifts into its nighttime rhythm.

Your phone buzzes again, and you already know who it is. You don’t check this time. Instead, you pick up the pace, heading toward the bus stop.

You feel sick with anxiety again. But you have to have a talk with dream and cross….

A calm civil talk.

Chapter Text

You've been standing outside your apartment door for the past five minutes, gnawing on your lip.

This is stupid. You own the damn apartment .

Still, the feeling doesn’t shake. 

The weight pressing against your ribs, the tight coil of unease winding in your chest. You take a slow breath, grunting as you finally slide your key into the lock. 

The door creaks open, and you hesitate for just a second before stepping inside.

Your eyes sweep across the apartment. Nothing seems immediately out of place. At least not in the way you feared. But the tension in your shoulders doesn’t ease.

Dream stands out on the balcony, glancing over his shoulder with a nervous, lopsided, smile. He’s holding one of your plants, carefully repotting it into a brand-new container, one of several replacements for the ones he’s broken. 

The sight is almost comical, he's attempting to make amends for his friend almost killing me.

Cute really.

Less amusing is the figure sprawled across your couch like he owns the place.

Your eyes look over to cross. And you immediately scowl.

He takes up as much space as humanly possible on your couch. His arms are draped over the back of the cushions, and his body is stretched out deliberately with lazy confidence. His legs wide open… 

Ugh men .

His eyes aren’t on Dream, though.

The moment you step inside, they snap to you, cool and unreadable. 

His whole frame goes rigid and his expression sharpens. He doesn’t say a word, just watches. His eyes flicker over you with a weight that makes your hackles raise.

It’s unsettling. This strange man acting like he belongs here.

“Ah! You’re back!” Dream calls, stepping in from the balcony with cheer. He sets the newly potted plant on the table, brushing his hands off as he moves toward the hall.

You don’t take your eyes off Cross. 

“How was work?” Dream asks.

“Not very eventful,” you say bluntly, still locked in a silent stare-down.

Cross doesn’t waver. You narrow your eyes slightly, letting irritation bleed into your voice. “Like what you see, pal?”

His face scrunches up in mild distaste as a glare slides across his features before he scoffs.

“S-So, uh,” Dream cuts in quickly, eyes flicking between you and Cross. “Me and Cross, we had a discussion while you were gone.” He gives Cross a pointed look.

Cross shifts, looking away at the last second. His jaw tightens. Then he shockingly pouts.

“Uh, yeah,” he mutters, voice gruff. “M’sorry. About the mess. And the damage, I uh... Yeah.” he doesn't look you in the eye, or seem all that interested in you.

Okay. That wasn’t awkward at all.

“right…well uh. Huh.” you aren't sure what to say. Too exhausted and quite frankly, scared of Cross. 

Dream thankfully cuts in with a flat look directed towards Cross. “We really do apologise, Cross here will clean up the rest of the mess while me and you have a chat. 

Before you can get a word in, Dream gestures to the hall, you follow him and cross your arms tightly.

Dream leads you down the hall, the tension in your shoulders refusing to ease. You cross your arms tightly, half expecting him to drop some more bad news on you.

You're Not sure whether you can take any more bad things to happen. Your heart is pounding out of its ribcage.

He turns to face you, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, I just… I really wanted to thank you.” His voice is softer now, lacking its usual weariness. 

“For letting me stay here. For putting up with me.” His fingers mess with the bottom of his blue hoodie, He still has it on. “You didn’t have to, but you did. And I-” He exhales, shaking his head. “I do not think I ever really said how much that meant.”

You shift uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. “Dream, what-”

“I know I’m asking a lot, but… can we stay? A little longer?” His eyes flicker with something hesitant. “Cross too.”

Your entire body stiffens. “ we? ”

“Just for a little while!” He rushes to say, waving his hands around. “Until we get things sorted out. Cross won’t cause trouble, I promise.”

You bark out a laugh, incredulous . “Won’t cause trouble? He broke into my home , Dream! He almost split me in fuckin’ half!.....and not even in the good way?!?!?” (Dream gives you a look)  Your voice rises, panic bubbling up from your chest. “And now you want me to house him? Are you insane? Are you mentally well??”

Dream doesn’t flinch, but his eyes hold steady on yours calm and unshaken. “I get it,” he says gently. 

“I really do. And if you tell us to leave, we will. But I would not ask if I did not think it was important.”

You shake your head, running a hand down your face. “Why him?”

He exhales. “Because he has nowhere else to go, as well as I. Something happened…bad. And now I do not-” dream looks upset and scared, he rubs the back of his skull and stress worries his brow “I do not know what to do….”

Your lips press into a tight line.

You look him over and cover your mouth with your fist anxiously, his body is coiled tight. It looks like he's trying not to panic himself. With a desperately pleading look. You want to ask why- you have a right to ask why. About his performance team, why he and Cross can't just go back to them.…

Damn it. You hate how that tugs at something in your chest.

Dream watches you carefully, then steps forward, lowering his voice. “You trusted me enough to let me stay, right?”

You glare at him, but it’s weak.

He doesn’t waver. If anything, there’s something almost patient in the way he looks at you, like he’s waiting for something.

“Trust me again,” he says softly, stepping just a little closer. His voice is warm.

Your body strangely loosens.

The frustration that was gripping your chest starts to dull, and the strain in your expression softens.

Your fingers twitch against your arms, and you swallow. You should be furious . You should be shoving Dream out the door and telling him to get the hell out.

“I know it is a lot to ask of you,” Dream continues, his voice flowing like honey, rich and warm. “But you have always been strong, have you not?”

A strange warmth curls in your stomach at that. Like a flicker of pride.

“You handled things when they got bad. You looked out for me. You helped me.” Dream tilts his head, expression open, earnest. “When i ended up splattered on the ground you helped!” He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck again.

Your shoulders drop slightly. He’s right, isn’t he? You’ve handled things. You’ve survived things. This is just another…. thing?

“And I have admired that about you,” he murmurs. “How you push through. How you do not let fear rule you.”

Something about his words coils through your chest. A small voice in the back of your mind says “Girl he is definitely trying to do something here….” , but it’s drowned out by the warmth spreading through your body, smoothing away the last shreds of doubt.

It kind of feels like honey, sickly sweet and sticky. You feel dull and a tingly feeling rushes from your toes to the tips of your fingers, then up to your neck. It feels like a buzzing…

You exhale, tension leaking from your frame like water slipping through cracks. “…This is insane,” you murmur, but the resistance in your tone is weaker. “I- ugh.”

A slow, curling calm wraps around your chest, replacing the frantic drumbeat of anxiety. 

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Dream continues, his tone now pleading. “I know what Cross did. I know how much I’m asking of you. But I wouldn’t be here if we had anywhere else to go.”

You should still be angry. You should still be afraid. But those emotions feel distant and dull.

You don’t even realise when you’ve already made up your mind.

“…Fine.”

The word slips out before you can stop it, and your stomach twists. Something about this feels off. But the moment you agree, Dream lets out a soft breath.

Just for a second he looks at you with sunken shoulders and a guilty look.

Then he smiles, but it’s small. “Thank you.”

Your skin prickles.

You should feel relieved, but instead, there’s a strange hollowness settling in your chest.

Dream grabs your hands and his smile snaps to its usual brightness. You jolt and grumble under your breath, feeling really really tired. Before you can even open your mouth, he is dragging you back into the living room where Cross is leaning as far over the couch as he can.

He sees us come back and quickly throws himself against the couch and rests his head on his fist, looking out the window. 

It reminds you of one of those Greek statues of philosophers.  

Dickhead

Dream has a fond smile on his lips as he bounds over to cross.

You feel way too tired to listen, the energy just sucked right out of you all of a sudden. You grunt at the two of them and rub a hand over your eyes

“Ok look, the two of you.”

Dream and cross perk up.


“I don't have a spare room, dream you still have the couch, and I doubt Skeletron over here-” Cross looks ready to kill you “-is gonna fit.”

Dream nods his head, deep in thought. He sighs and opens his mouth but you cut him off.


“I also can't afford the two of you here.” Awkward conversation to be having with your now, weirdly peer pressured roommates. “The food cost- the room. Sighhh. Need to hide you from my landlord too”. The more you think about it the more tired you feel


Dream is quick to jump in.

“We will pull our weight! It is- it is just until we can stand on our own two feet. It should only take a week. Maybe two. We will pay rent! Stay out of your way completely, Cross will respect you and clean up the mess he has made…..starting by plastering the wall.”


Cross grunts and frowns, but that's the only emote dream gets out of him.


It's convincing, but you're too tired to fully listen to him. And you're starting to feel irritated.


“Ok, ok… I guess you could sleep on the blow up mattress I have.” You half mutter to yourself, Trudging down the hall again to the storage closet. You see the old blow up mattress, its dusty and beat up looking but it'll have to do. Next to it is a pink frilly blanket….you grin


You drag the filthy thing into the middle of the living room and throw a spare blanket onto it. Looking at cross expectantly.


“Ya gotta blow this up lungless” You say blankly.

Cross bares his teeth slightly and Dream jumps in with a nervous smile. “O-of course! Of course he will.” He gives Cross a look, and Cross huffs as he gets up.


“Right, well, i'll leave yous to it then.”

Cross kneels on the ground and presses his teeth against the blow up mattress. He blows hard into the hole, eyes squeezed closed and crouched over. You snort as you watch him before turning to dream.

He watches cross with a big, fond grin before following you into the kitchen. He turns the kettle on and takes out three mugs “Thank you i- i cannot thank you enough for your kindness”

You feel all that mushy emotion now

You cough and ignore the heat blooming in your cheeks

“Yeah, ‘s only temporary. Remember .” You say waving a spoon threateningly at him. You watch him rub the back of his neck with narrowed eyes.

Dream pours out three mugs of tea, One with an absurd amount of sugar in it.

You both walk back to the livingroom to see Cross, his cheeks flushed purple and the mattress already halfway blown up.

You sip your tea while watching dream and cross, he happily accepts the tea, dream plopping down beside him. He seems really happy, way more relaxed now.

“Welp, I'm off to bed. Sort the sleeping arrangements among yourselves” Your mouth hitches up a little into a grin. “And uh, keep it down yeah?” 

Cross gives you a confused look while dream makes an outraged squeak when you wink at them.

You place your tea cup on the bedside table and rub your chest. It feels sore for some reason, your heart. You can feel the simmering anxiety in your chest, but you can't exactly…feel…it.

You're confused yourself.

Laying down you simply shut your eyes and simply

Pass out.

Chapter Text

You wake up slowly, stretching out with limbs popping.

No alarm. No garbage trucks. No neighbors screaming through the walls. Just… a nice quiet morning.

Something buttery and sweet, like pancakes wafts through the air making you crack open your eyes and makes your stomach grumble. 

You huff and snuggle back down into bed, another 5 minutes wouldn't hurt. You need the beauty sleep after the hectic night you've had.

Still it's oddly quiet

…

Which immediately sets off alarm bells in your head.

Your eyes snap open.

You flail a little and curse under your breath. You have WORK!

The clock reads 7:43 AM.

You were supposed to be up twenty minutes ago.

“Shit,” you hiss, throwing the covers off you with a groan. The floor is cold under your feet as you stumble toward the door, rubbing your face.

The godly smell of pancakes helps you wake up alot faster as you stumble slightly down the hall, hastily thinking and grabbing a hoodie to keep warm.

You pad down the hall, squinting as sunlight filters in through the kitchen window.

Your kitchen is sparkling clean.

The disaster zone from yesterday? Gone. No more smashed pots all over your balcony (though your plants are potless still). Your floor somehow looks cleaner than before these skeletons invaded your home.

Countertops wiped down, tiles moped….there's still a massive hole in the drywall from when cross attacked you, making you shiver looking at it, but a blanket is draped over it using picture frames to hold the blanket corners up.

You appreciate the gesture….sort of.

Turning your attention away from the mess you spot dream.

He's at the stove with his hoodie wrapped around his waist, he's wearing his scrap of a body suit, holes showing his thick ribbons and arm bones. He hums a soft tune under his breath as he flips bacon in the pan.

You roll your eyes over him briefly before looking away.

And Cross?

Cross is curled up like a dead spider on the blow-up mattress, the pink frilly blanket tangled around one leg while he rests bunched up on his waist. He's snoring like he hasn’t slept in a decade. His mouth is slightly open. 

It’s both disturbing and deeply satisfying to see someone that threatening look so deeply, profoundly unimpressive.

“dumbass” you mutter.

Still, as stupid as he looks, you feel a pang of anxiety looking at him.

“You are up earlier than usual!” dream chirps.

“I’m always up early,” you grumble rubbing at your eyes. “Some of us have jobs.”

Dream grins at that, sliding a pancake onto a plate and offering it up to you.“you will appreciate a nice sweet breakfast i am sure? I made the bacon extra crispy!”

You hum and take the plate from him with a nod as thanks, dropping into your seat at the tiny kitchen table. He's even made you a pot of tea.

“Oh wow, thanks cinderskella” You call out roughly.

You feel his side eye as he busies himself with plating the next pancake.

The food is actually… really good. You don't want to admit it, but Dream can cook. Not in the ‘survival rations and protein bars’ way you expected.

he just kinda gave you that vibe.

The pancakes are nice and fluffy, not too soaked in maple syrup.

You didn't even know you had maple syrup….you should probably check the date on the bottle now that you think about it…

Dream leans against the counter, watching you eat all pleased with himself. He plates some more pancakes and practically beams at you when you hum at the taste of breakfast.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that,” you grumble with your mouth stuffed full of pancake.

“Like what?”

You swallow and thump at your chest as the food goes down. “Like a puppy that learned a new trick.”

He laughs, low and warm. “Apologies, you have syrup all over your mouth….and I am just glad you did not kick us out.”

You make a face at him and scrub your mouth with a napkin. “Give me time.” you say and wave your fork threateningly at him.

A long groan comes from across the room on the floor and you jump.

ah..

You both look as Cross sits up slowly, from the blow up mattress. He's taken off his massive white over coat and thrown it onto the couch, left in his turtle neck to sleep in.

That can't be comfortable.

He untangles himself from the blanket and squints at the morning light like it personally offended him.

Dream comes over to cross with the plate of fresh pancakes in one hand and a plate of bacon and eggs in the other. “I made pancakes! And tea!”

Cross lets out a groaning sound.

He slumps off the mattress and shuffles to the table, he then spots you as he sits down and immediately tenses. Which in turn makes you tense up.

You swear he's like some guard dog

You shovel pancakes and bacon into your mouth while maintaining eye contact, chewing with your mouth open. He scowls and looks away from you.

Ha

Cross grabs some pancakes and goes for the bacon, but being as petty as you are, you slap his fingers away with your fork.

You offer him the ugliest, most dead-eyed smile you can manage. “No bacon until you patch the wall.”

Cross snatches his hand back like it burnt him and gives you a filthy look.

Dream makes a helpless sound and shoves a mug of tea into Cross's hands like a peace offering. “Just eat. And maybe apologize. Again. With words. That are meaningful.” It amuses you seeing mister sunshine getting annoyed but trying to keep his tone happy.

Cross slouches into the chair across from you and glares at his pancakes.

“I said sorry yesterday.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “It was the most half-assed non apology I’ve ever received.”

Cross mutters something in a tone that might be an insult, or a threat.. Either way, you ignore him.

Instead, you eat the rest of your food and hop up off the chair. You take up your plate and put it in the sink, washing the stickiness of the syrup off your hands.

You rush down the hall into your room, skidding a little on the hallway rug as you go. There’s no time for a shower. Which is gross, but being as late as you are you dont give a shit.

You yank on your uniform pants, hop a little as you wrestle with the zipper, and stuff your phone, charger, and purse into your bag in a frenzied blur. You snatch your keys off the dresser and glance at the slightly cracked mirror above it.

Reminder to self, new mirror

Your hair’s doing something weird. It looks like a ball of fluff, you grab a brush and untangle it the best you can before throwing your brush into your bag and accepting you'll just have to fix the rest in the work bathrooms.

Grabbing your jacket, you head back into the kitchen, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you go.

“Okay so, i'm gonna be working all day….i need you both to please not let another skeleton into my home” You are aware that it's probably not their fault but you seriously can't handle another one breaking your property. It's not even yours, It's your landlords. 

Your worries are valid too! He told you about his friends, he has two other ones… paint and uh, red? You can't exactly remember their names but it was an art supply and a colour.

Dream sheepishly nods and smiles at you and nods “We understand, no more surprises”.

You pointedly look at Cross.

Dream tugs on his torn up body suit to try to keep it onto his shoulder. You can see that some of his ribs are still bandaged up as well as his shoulder… which makes something in you soften. Sigh

“I'm not in work tomorrow so uh, hows about we go down to the store and get you some fittin’ clothes.” You stonewall your expression to look tough but your voice slightly shrivels near the end.

And you're blushing now. Great. You can't help it, Dream is looking up at you with those big gold eyes…..

There’s a short awkward silence before you look away and cross your arms.

Dream smiles and chuckles. “Thank you. I would love to.”

You nod and scratch at the uncomfortable heat in your cheeks.

Cross stays silent and stares over at you, for some reason this particular stare feels a lot more menacing. Your heart rate picks up again and you clear your throat, you get the same feeling you got a while ago when Dream first crashed into your apartment. The sharp invading look, like he's looking right into you.

You glance at him shakily before snapping. “This ain't a charity. I’m not buying you shit.”

He keeps staring.

Dream stops smiling and looks over at Cross before placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a look. It annoys you, you know they're talking about you with their stupid looks.

“Patch my damn wall,” you mutter, stepping back into the hall. “See you later, Dream.”

You don’t wait for a reply. You’ve already said more than you meant to, you speed walk out of the door and lock it behind you.

You're not sure if you're overthinking or not thinking enough as you walk to your bus stop. It's been an extremely stressful week with everything that's happened.

and your so so sick of feeling anxious

So, you decide at this point You just won't think about dream and cross while your at work….as best as you can. 

You pop your earphones into your ears and blast your new favourite song you're going to listen to death. 

The bus hisses as it stops at your stop, tapping your travel card as you hop onto the bus you take a seat in your usual spot at the back of the bus near the window. A guy with his hood pulled over his face sits on the opposite side from you. An old woman in a few seats in front of you and some hollering kids up the very front. 

New notification from PainInMyHole

PainInMyHole: hey ccyz les get drnks.

A small smile graces your lips as you read killers text, he's most definitely drunk. You envy him at this moment.

You: are u drunk rn?

PainInMyHole: ya!

Killer then sends you a very blurry image of his smug face taking a selfie with a…dark mass of black. You can make out a single cyan glowing circle within the blob.

Weirdo 

You: alri get home safe if your out. 

You put your phone in your pocket as killer spams you with random images and memes, and look out the window listing to your tunes 

Chapter Text

Once Off the bus you walk into the daily grind and yawn into your palm. You don't mind doing openings by yourself, keeping your earphones In with no awkward small talk involving. What a treat.

Your keys jangle as you dig them out of your pocket. One earbud stays in as you fish out the right key for the shop.

You have like, 5 unnecessarily big keychains on the key so you don't lose them.

The key finally clicks into place and you shove the door open with your shoulder, damn thing constantly jams. 

The smell of stale coffee, old pastries, a faint hint of lemon cleaner hits your senses, waking you up more. 

You flick the light switch by the door. Warm yellow floods the space in a slow blink. The coffee shop hums to life around you, machinery clicking and groaning as it adjusts to being awake again.

Slipping out of your jacket, you toss it onto the hook behind the counter and duck down to stash your bag beneath the register. You pull it over your head and tie it snug at your waist. The smell of milk and coffee clings to the fabric.

Gross, your coworker borrowed your apron again and coincidentally forgot to wash it.

Without needing to think about it, your hands begin their routine.

You move behind the counter, flipping switches, waking machines. The espresso machine hisses softly as it warms up, followed by the gurgle of the drip brewer starting its cycle.

The pastry fridge is stocked from the night shift, but you restock and rearrange anyway. Croissants, muffins, cinnamon rolls, the chocolate chip cookies remind you of the time killer came to shop. 

You wonder what was up with him that day, he really was acting so strange.

You line the pastries up neatly, flipping over the chalkboard tags that sit in front of each row.

You check the milk jugs, the cold brew levels, the sugar dispensers. Your body goes through the motions while your brain spaces out.

The sun rises higher outside lighting up the shop, you take your place behind the counter and lean against it with another big yawn.

The bell chimes.

You glance up from the counter to see William bundled up in a trench coat and scarf.

“Morning, hon,” he says in his usual warm tone.

“Morning,” you mumble back, giving him a half-smile as he breezes past you to his usual table by the window.

Without needing him to place his order, you pull a cup and fill it with black coffee, taking a powdered donut from the display case and walk over to williams table. You slide the tray onto the counter with a quiet nod. 

“Not in the mood to talk today?” William says cheekily, his shaking hands cupping the mug and bringing it up to his lips.

You tiredly smile and chuckle. “Sorry William, got a lot going on. I'm just tired I guess”.

He nods in understanding and hands you a five-dollar bill on top of the money to pay for his coffee with a wink, and you don’t bother to protest. He always tips like he's trying to make up for the rest of humanity.

From there, the quiet doesn’t last long. Another regular walks in, a college kid with headphones 

Then the construction guys with high-vis vests. they grunt out their orders and you hand them four large black coffees. No cream. No sugar. Just tar.

By the time you glance at the clock again, it’s half one, two of your coworkers come in as it gets busier and busier. With a quick greeting you make yourself a cup of tea and grab a probably stale sandwich to eat.

Now i need to think about what to do with the skeletons, sigh

As you eat you pull out your phone and look up google maps, looking at the closest thrift shops and inexpensive places for clothes. You want to bring dream shopping without Cross, but from the way he's acting you know that definitely isn't going to happen. Then again, you aren't sure you want to leave him alone in your apartment.

God, you actually can't do this.

Your head thumps on the table as you groan in mental exhaustion.

Desperate times like this calls for tik tok brain rot.

So, you scroll through tik tok for the rest of your break, chuckling at the mind numbing videos that quell the anxiety in your chest.

As soon as it hits 6 you are out the door.

You grab your bag and chuck your apron back on the hook, if the person that took your apron didn't wash it you sure as hell aren't going to clean up after them. 

You wave goodbye to your coworkers and pop your earbuds back in. Flicking through music as you walk down the street

Wait, you should probably go grocery shopping before coming home. You live with two other monsters now so food will run out faster.

You feel yourself scowling at the thought of money you're about to spend. 

You walk into a nearby market getting blasted by warm air.

Fluorescent lights buzz faintly above you as you scan over mismatched shelves, half-stocked with fresh produce and everyday essentials. The fruit is mostly local, in baskets and plastic crates, some bruised but sweet-smelling. The prices are handwritten on bits of torn cardboard.

You prefer shopping at little family owned places, you prefer to give them money rather than massive corporations. 

You grab a plastic bag and shake it to open it up, you place some of the apples and oranges into the bag along with a couple of plums. You hope dream likes plums, you don't usually get so many.

There’s a corner fridge humming softly stocked with milk, eggs, yogurts and butter. You grab a 2 litre carton of milk, some eggs and a tub of butter. Loaves of bread sit unevenly stacked near the checkout so you grab that too.

Attached to the side of the market is a small coffee shop, the walls are a dark blue colour and the furniture is miss matched, Still, there’s a cozy atmosphere about it. A couple of tables, a counter with an old espresso machine that sounds like it's coughing to life, and a barista who looks only half-alive. Been there.

You browse down the aisles, grabbing a few more essentials. Crackers, a bag of flour, some meat that looks decent enough, and a mix of vegetables.

A cheap chocolate bar makes its way into your basket too. You deserve a lil treat for the past week you've had.

By the time you get to the register, your arms are aching from balancing everything. You half-dump, half-slide your haul onto the counter. The cashier, a very edgy fish monster with long black hair, gives you a tired grunt, scanning everything in slow motions.

You nod back, too tired for small talk but not rude enough to ignore them. You pay with a wince, $5.50 for a 2 litre carton of milk is crazy, then stuff everything into the plastic bags you took and groan as they cut into your fingers as you walk.

Once outside, you shove your earbuds back in. Music drowns out the buzz of the street.

The sun’s already setting in a pretty pink and orange gradient, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. You wait under the flickering street lamp with three other people, none of whom you make eye contact with.

You get a sudden wave of déjà vu, glancing around the bus stop at the three other people waiting. They all seem human. One has his hood pulled up and gloves on, so it’s hard to tell but you figure he probably is too.

Eventually, the bus comes to a stop and you clamber aboard, tapping your card and finding a seat near the back as usual. You prop your head against the window and let yourself zone out, the city blurring past in streaks of dull light and noise.

You unlock the front door with hands and arms useless like overcooked spaghetti noodles. By the time you stumble inside, you’re panting like you just ran a marathon.

“I could use a little help here!” 

There’s a quiet scuffle from the living room, followed by the soft thud of socked feet against the floor. Dream appears around the corner, eyes widening slightly as he takes in your sweaty state.

“Oh! I have it” Dream says quickly, rushing over and grabbing all the bags out of your arms.

“Thanks” You say while rubbing the red lines left on your hands and arms. You place your bag on a coffee table in the hall and follow dream to the kitchen.

Dream hums as he carries the bags into the kitchen, setting them gently on the counter. “I should call Cross down to help pack away.” Dream says while looking down the hall at the bathroom door.

“I’d rather lose circulation in both arms then ask him for help,” you say after him

He chuckles softly, already pulling out the produce and packing it away. Putting the strawberries in the freezer once again, But he stops and thinks before righting himself.

You catch yourself smiling at that.

You join in, unpacking the milk, eggs, and slightly squashed plums. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable. 

Thankfully.

It's an easy quiet settles in once you two started to fall into sync with each other.

As Dream places the apples into the fruit bowl, you glance over. You look over at his side and chest. His movements are still slow with pain, careful and graceful

You swear almost everything with this guy is graceful

You clear your throat and ask “So, how's the wounds? Shoulda’ asked sooner.”

He pauses for a moment, then lifts the hem of his hoodie slightly. The edge of white bandages peeks out on his ribs, it coils down around his spine. “Better. It dose not ache as much and I am not leaky anymore,” he adds with a sheepish grin.

You raise your brows. “Glad to hear you’re not bleeding out all over the place.”

“I know! Progress.” He chuckles and tugs the hoodie down. He leans against the counter after putting the bread in the press. “So, I was wondering about our little trip out tomorrow….”

You nod. “I was looking at thrift shops today, actually. See, I gotta get ya some yellow to wear. Bet you miss your costume” You jab playfully.

Dream looks over and huffs at you, he crosses his arms and looks to the side. “Yes, well, It does feel out of character to wear blue, and sweatpants.”

“I got you,” you say while chuckling. “s’ long as it's not mad money I dont mind fitting the bill”

You’ve started to feel a lot more comfortable around Dream lately. Sure, he’s always been kind and respectful of your boundaries, but he used to tense up and flinch whenever you were in the same room. And you weren’t exactly welcoming either. Uneasy, maybe even a little too hostile at first.

The memory makes heat rise to your cheeks, and your lips twitch into a small, sheepish smile.

Dream looks over at you and blinks in surprise, for what? You don't know. His eyes brighten and he's suddenly fixed his posture to stand more upright.

Just as he’s about to respond, when the bathroom door creaks open down the hall. Steam spills out into the space like fog rolling in.

Then Cross appears.

Towel. Only in a towel.

Slung low on his hips, water still dripping down his scarred bones, his spine slightly curved. His bones are thicker than human bones like dreams…. But his are bigger than dreams.

A lot bigger…

Jagged scars slash across his ribs and collarbones, a massive one cute right across his ribs.

Damn

For one second, you just stare. 

You take in the whole picture. 

narrow hips, broad shoulders, the way his towel is hanging on for dear life on his hips

You approve….

Wait what

You snap out of that train of thought when Dream clears his throat. Jesus there just bones, calm down.

“Hey Cross. Was your shower good?”

Cross gives a low grunt. His sockets flick to you and linger. His posture tightens, expression unreadable.

Dream busies himself with packing the rest of the food away, he shakes his head at cross. Who ignores him to just stare at you.

You are so so sick of these little intimidation tactics he's using. 

You've played these games before.

You shove a bag of peppers into the fridge a little harder than necessary. “Nice of you to put pants on,” you say flatly without looking at him.

He huffs out a humorless chuckle with a sneer. “What? You don’t like the view?”

You nearly choke on your own air. Dream facepalms.

You whip around with a scowl. “Trust me, you're nothing special.”

Cross snorts and walks past you both like he owns the damn place, and starts to help put the groceries away.

The air is extremely tense now.

He looks over dream before popping a granola bar into his mouth and chewing on it. You think anything this guy does annoys you now

Once he's done unpacking one bag he swaggers to the couch and takes a seat with his legs splayed out open, once again.  

“What.” Cross says while looking slightly smug

“Ugh! Your dick ain’t that big close your fucking legs!-” 

Cross tenses and splutters slightly and blurts out with a purple dust of colour on his cheeks “You- i- Why were you looking in the first pla-!”

Dream immediately jumps up waving his arms around. “OKAY, That is enough! Cross! Go and put some clothes on. Now!” 

For all the bravo and hostility cross has shown you up until now, he immediately deflates and looks like a kicked puppy when dream raises his voice, he opens his mouth to try retort but the look dream gives him makes even your heart stop.

“You are acting like a child , must I dress you like one?” Dream continues as he looms over cross with a very pissed off look. “I have had extensive conversations with you about respecting them, and you have disregarded me enough times. Now go.”

Cross sits up straighter and closes his legs, shaking his head no before tensely getting up and hurrying out of the kitchen to get changed

You look at dream in bewilderment and slight nervousness

“You should keep him on a shorter leash,” You try joke.

Dream just sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with a tired and annoyed look.

“He is unnecessarily trying to display his strength by being, for lack of a better word, a dick.” Dream says while crossing his arms.

“Yeah,” you mutter. Sighing before hesitantly admitting to Dream “He kind of makes my fight-or-flight trigger even when he’s doing nothing.”

“To think that he would treat you so discourteously, when you’ve been nothing short of an angel to us. Offering kindness, shelter, and care without obligation…” Dream trails off, his gaze softening. “It is more than most would ever do for any stranger.”

…you kinda flush when he compares you to an angel

Dream hums quietly, his expression softening as he resumes unpacking the last bag.

“He does not trust easily. Especially not humans.” He pauses. “But he will come around. You must believe me when I say cross is not like this....act he is putting on, at all. He is usually wonderfully kind”

You don’t believe it for a second. But you don't voice your opinion.

“You have a scary face when you're mad ya know” You accidentally blurt out.

Dream blinks and a bright smile stretches across his skull, he covers his mouth and lets out a soft ‘mewheh’.

“Yes, well, it has often been compared to my…” He stops himself and you can't help but notice the distant look in his sockets. “Anyways, I am off to bed”

You hesitate, wanting him to finish what he was about to say but stop yourself  

With a stretch and a yawn, you finally call it. “Right well, i'm goin’ to bed now. Don't stay up too late yeah? Night Dream.”

“Goodnight,” he calls back softly from the kitchen.

Your door clicks shut behind you and you immediately peel off your clothes. You toss them vaguely in the direction of the laundry pile and flop face-first onto your bed, groaning as your body sinks into the mattress.

You nuzzle your pillow  and grunt in satisfaction.

Your eyes flutter open in the dark, your brain is already doing that annoying thing where it waits until you’re about to sleep to bring up every anxiety in your life ever.

Shopping tomorrow.

With Dream.

Your chest tightens slightly.

You roll over onto your back, sighing into the ceiling. The idea sounded fine earlier. But now that it’s actually happening

You scrub your hands over your face.

What if he hates everything you suggest? 

You chew your lip.

That's not the thing you should be focusing on!

Still, a tiny part of you’s excited. Just a little. 

The idea of walking through thrift stores with Dream beside you, poking through racks, maybe teasing him about matching an outfit with his tiara he loves to wear.

You snort quietly into the darkness.

God, you're getting soft.

At least you don’t have work tomorrow. That thought alone gives you enough peace to unclench a little.

The anxiety still lingers, but it’s dulled down. More of a buzz than a weight.

With another tired groan, you tug the blanket up over your bare skin and let your body melt into the mattress. 

You shuffle into the kitchen in your socks and a big hoodie with rat nest hair.

Dream stands by the stove once again with a frying pan in hand. The smell of garlic and herbs wafts through the air

He's using the groceries you bought yesterday. Which in hindsight is kind of impressive since you mostly picked things at random and hoped for the best.

You squint at him from the doorway.

“You making breakfast again Cinderskella?” you croak tiredly.

“That is the fourth time you’ve called me that,” Dream replies, not looking up from the pan. “I still do not understand why you find that joke so funny.”

You smirk, dragging your feet toward the counter. “You’re a skeleton. You clean. You cook. It's easy pickings.”

“It is not humorous,” he says.

Which makes it ten times funnier to you.

“Isn't that a bone, are ya a fan of puns?” You grin and wiggle your eyebrows at him when dream gives you the blankest look you think he's ever made.

Cross is already at the table.

He doesn’t look at you when you walk in. Just sips his tea and shifts his eyes from the cup to dream.

You flop into the chair opposite him and start poking at the toast, bacon, egg and a bowl of fruit Dream places in front of you. 

“Is this from the stuff I got yesterday?” you ask, mouth half-full.

“Yes,” Dream says. “You chose adequately.”

“High praise,” you mutter, sipping from the mug of tea he pushes toward you.

“I am merely relieved you did not return with only snacks and instant noodles,” Dream continues. “ I have observed a rather large amount of instant noodles in the food press.”

You shrink a little and grin cheekily in his direction and wiggle your fork at him “They were on sale, easy to make and taste amazing!”

Dream playfully scoffs “You are worse than ink”

Cross looks up at Dream and smiles a little before looking out your window silently.

…anyways…

Breakfast settles into a quiet rhythm, punctuated by the soft clink of cutlery and the low simmer of the pan still on the stove.

Dream plates his own breakfast, you watch his movements, noticing his motions aren’t quite as stiff as before. Healing, slowly but surely.

“Yaknow dream you kinda act like a mam” you say between bites of egg.

Dream holds his hand politely over his mouth as he chuckles “Oh you have no idea,” Dream replies primly, sitting now with his own plate across from you. “If I do not, certain monsters would forget their manners-” Cross sinks into his chair slightly “-Ink will insist that  subsisting on coffee and dried noodles is normal, and blue will train until he drops.”

You snort into your tea. “Ink sounds like a college student.”

Dream hums in vague amusement. “I assure you, he has never studied a day in his life.”

The three of you eat in silence for a moment, the tension with Cross still lingering, but not as sharp. 

Maybe the food's helping in the early morning. 

Or maybe its because dream absolutely dogged on him.

You finish the last bite of your bacon, sit back in your chair, and clap your hands.

“Alright! Cinderskella, finish your toast- we’re goin’ shopping.”

Dream blinks at you, startled. “You are rushing me?”

“You can eat on the bus if you’re desperate, but I’ve got a schedule in my head and I wanna get you dressed in something other than trashy clothes.”

Cross shifts, elbows resting on the table. He hesitates as his eyes flicker from Dream to you, then back to Dream.

He quietly asks “…Can I come?”

You pause. Both you and Dream look at him at the same time.

Cross leans forward slightly in his seat, shoulders still tense. 

“Uh, Please.”

You blink. Please huh.

You sigh and give him a long, reluctant look, then glance at Dream

Who gives you puppy dog eyes and mouths, ‘he's learning’.

“ …Fine ,” you mutter. “But I'm not paying for your clothes as well as dreams, and no posturing. Or glares. Or brooding in corners like a bad anime character.”

Cross blinks and perks up “You watch anime?”

Oh boy….

Chapter Text

The morning air is cool and sharp as you step outside. The three of you fall into a strange line with Dream walking close at your side, bouncing with some energy, while Cross lingers just behind like a watchdog.

You Dream and cross head out to the bus stop after you peer pressure dream to shove his toast into his mouth. The bus shows up right when you cross the road. You pay for the boys and yourself before taking a seat down the very back of the bus 

And dream looks absolutely amazed by his surroundings.

“Why do you look like you've taken acid?” You say dryly, looking in front of you at Dream. 

His skull is nearly pressed to the glass, eyelights wide and shimmering as buildings slide past. His legs shift restlessly, feet tapping the floor.

Cross huffs and smiles. 

You didn't know he could do that.

“Ah! I have never been on a bus before.” His feet kick out a little.

“Well,” you lean back in your seat, tugging your hoodie tighter, “been taking the bus since I was like… thirteen. M’ too lazy to get my license.” You say while watching dreams, eyelights lock onto the passing scenery.

He's acting like he's never gotten on any form of transport at all….

Cross snorts.

You twist your head, glaring at him. “What?”

“Explains a lot,” he says with the faintest smirk.

“Shut up, What's that supposed to mean? ” you snap, but he doesn’t push further. He looks out the window with a guarded kind of stillness.

Bitch ass

The ride isn’t long, but Dream drinks in every second of it. His joy is so genuine it’s almost… disarming. You find yourself smiling despite yourself.

You notice people staring at you three the second you enter the Thrift store. It's quite a big one, but isn't extremely overpriced and labels things as ‘vintage’. The thrift shop smells faintly of dust and laundry detergent. The fluorescent lights overhead flicker annoying you as always, racks of secondhand clothes, towers of shoes, and shelves of knick-knacks that probably haven’t been touched since the 80s.

Sigh, your home. You love a good discount.

There aren't many monsters that come to this area to be fair. But still monsters have been on the surface for ages now, so you know they are hostile stares. 

Dream seems to not mind the stares and happily walks beside you, looking around with his hands behind his back like a grandpa. But Cross is extremely tense and looks at everyone like they just insulted his mother.

You huff, typical humans, and lead Cross and Dream deeper into the store to the clothing racks with noticeably less humans around.

“They always stare” Cross grumbles while pressing to Dreams side. Dream nods and chuckles, happily waving to an old woman who clutches her pearls and turns the other way. 

“You did that on purpose” You say. Dream looks to the side with a grin.

You drag him further into the store, toward the racks of shirts and jackets. “Alright. What’s the vibe, Casual? Classy?” you pull out a brown bomber jacket that's ....seen better days. So you hang it back up.

“Yellow,” he answers simply, his tone so serious it makes you bark out a laugh.

“ Yellow ? Just…. Yellow?”

“Yes.” Dream says matter-of-factly as he looks on another rack.

You rummage through a rack and yank out the most visually offensive shirt you can find, a bright yellow Minions graphic tee. 

“How about this, then?”

Dream scowls and glares playfully. “You jest!”

“You said yellow,” you smirk, holding it up against his frame. “Honestly? Kinda suits you.”

He makes a dramatic show of turning away. “ Absolutely not, I knew you had not a sense of fashion when you picked out this hoodie. But I did not know it was this bad.”

“Oh wooooow ok mister costume party.” That gets you a side eye and a huff.

You grin, tossing the amazingly ugly minion shirt back onto the rack before thumbing through again. “So what do you like? You’re giving me nothing here man.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully, sockets narrowing as he scans the rows of clothes. “Something light. Comfortable. And…. preferably yellow. Or orange, or a nice grey”

“Groundbreaking,” you mutter.

Dream chuckles under his breath as he watches cross stand to attention, eyeing anyone nearby. You assume cross is still half listening to the conversation though, since his permanent scowl twitches upwards slightly.

“Why yellow?” you ask genuinely curiously as you pull out a nice cream button up shirt with some delicate red and yellow flowers embroidered up the sides. Vines growing upwards.

You think that it would suit Dream…but you dont think it would suit him.

Dream hums as he stands beside you to watch you sort through the clothes. 

“Well, I've been wearing that particular colour since I was a child. It represents happiness and warmth, which I strive to spread-” your eye catches cross looking over at you both now “-it also happens to be the colour on my favourite flower, sunflowers.” Dream reaches up and touches his circlet. “It also matches my circlet”.

Dreams eyelight lands on a light pastel plain yellow hoodie, oversized, and holds it up. “Yellow also looks good on everyone I think.” he says as he looks at it in a full length mirror over his body. “I think you would look good in yellow as well.”

You…weren't expecting that to turn into a complement. You eye him a little and clear your throat, blinking at him. “What?”

Dream shrugs lightly, looking back at the rack. “You always wear dark things, but… I imagine brighter shades would suit you.”

Heat prickles at your cheeks before you can stop it. “Uh. shuddup”

Dream chuckles and puts the hoodie back, thankfully it was ugly in your humble opinion . “I am only being honest.”

You fumble with a hanger, shoving it back into place a little too hard, trying to shake the way your chest just tightened. “You’re insufferably peppy today.”

Dream just give you the brightest smile be can manage and you feel you cheeks darken

You purse your lips and immediately try to change the subject. “So i-Im guessing yellow is your favourite colour then?”

Dream huffs and his eyes soften “No, it is purple.”

That kinda throws you in a loop. Wasn't he just talking about how good a colour yellow is??

Before you can question him a snort breaks your concentration.

You both turn around to cross, he's holding up a plain white shirt that has ‘call me daddy’ on it in chicken scratch like font, with a daddy long legs spider underneath the text.

“That's crazy” you say with a very amused smile. “I want it”. 

Cross chuckles a little harder when Dream scoffs and turns his back to keep looking at the rack where both were sorting through. 

“How did you even find that?” you hold the shirt up to yourself in the mirror before taking a quick snap. You should definitely send this to Killer.

Cross shrugs and keeps looking at the shirts. “Im just good like that.”

Cocky

You shuffle further down the rack, looking over a mix of polyester horrors and worn cotton. until something catches your eye.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, tugging out a violently pink shirt. It’s frilly, lacy, and looks like it belonged to some cursed ‘80s doll. You hold it up and squint over at Cross. “This. This is so you.”

Cross looks over at you before looking very confused. “The hell it is….”

You grin and look him over, shaking the shirt so the frills wobble. “No, seriously. You’d kill in this. I mean, the lace really brings out your… bone structure.”

Cross gives you the flattest look imaginable, making you cackle.

He turns back, all you can hear is clothes hangers scraping on the racks metal pole before he stops and his shoulders shake.

He holds up a shirt. It's plain black, cracked lettering across the front ‘No Father Figure’ with an arrow pointing up towards the neck line.

“This one’s so you,” he says, shoving it in your direction.

You choke out a laugh, snatching it from his hand to read it again. “Wow. Low blow.”

Cross just shrugs, smug grin pulling at his mouth as he watches you half-try to glare at him through your laughter. “What? You don’t like the accuracy?”

“Shut up!” you snap, shoving the shirt back at him, though you’re still grinning despite yourself. “You’re such a dick. I actually love and have a great relationship with my father, thank you very much.”

That's debatable…

“You sure?” He smirks, folding the shirt over his arm.

This little fucker-!?  

Dream pointedly clears his throat a few racks over, pretending to be very invested in comparing a bright red and blue jersey and a knitted gray sweater. He doesn’t glance at either of you, though his eyelights flicker in a way that tells you he’s listening.

You grunt and deflate feeling scolded somehow before you glare at Cross and mutter “I’m buying this just to spite you, and then im gonna burn your fuck ass uniform your wearing right now so this is all thats left”

Cross glares back. “Then I’m buying that one.” He nods at the No Father Figure shirt. “And throwing your closet out the window”

“Yeah with what money?” you fire back, all self satisfied.

“The money I never told you I have”

You gape at him. “You- so you're not a broke hobo, you sure do look like one though.” Cross tenses and his socket twitches.

ha.

Dream finally lets out a very long, very patient sigh, pulling the neatly folded gray sweater off the rack. “If you two are quite finished,” he says calmly, “I have found something I will actually wear.”

‘You purse your lips, cheeks warm, while Cross grumbles under his breath.

“A nice pair of jeans would look good with that” You say and walk up to him while Cross trails behind you. It feels nice and soft and looks practically new. “Grab some t-shirts as well, and another sweater, it gets cold.”

Dream smiles and nods, turning to cross. “What do you think?” 

Cross nods, looking not too interested but indulges. “Youl finally not look like classic, it freaks me out a little” he grumbles under his breath. 

You have no idea what that means but dream grins cheekily at him and lightly taps Crosses arm. Huh . 

Dream hums to himself as he drapes the gray sweater over one arm, drifting to another rack. He sorts through the hangers, checking fabric with his fingers and turning items toward the light. He’s so methodical about it you almost laugh, but you bite your tongue.

You tilt your head as he tugs out a soft beige t-shirt, simple and plain. He runs his thumb over the cotton, nodding. “This one is… affordable.”

“Cheap,” you correct with a grin.

“Yes. Cheap.” He flashes you a smile before carefully folding it back over his arm with the sweater.

You find yourself weirdly proud. Dream isn’t gravitating toward flashy or overpriced crap, your purse is definitely signing his praises.

Cross, on the other hand, has gone stiff again.

He trails behind Dream like a shadow, shoulders squared and expression flat, though you notice he still has that cursed No Father Figure shirt tucked against his side. 

You’re half-tempted to snatch it away just to see him pissed off.

“You’re real quiet all of a sudden” you mutter up at him as you join in on becoming Dreams shadow.

“Mm.” He doesn’t look at you, only glances toward the nearest human browsing a rack a close to your group. His sockets narrow a little.

You roll your eyes. “Relaaaaax, watchdog. No one’s gonna jump us.”

Cross doesn’t answer, but his jaw tightens.

Dream, oblivious or maybe just ignoring the tension, perks up suddenly and waves Cross over. “Cross! Come here,look!”

Cross walks toward Dream, and you follow a step behind, curious. Dream beams and proudly holds up…well, you could classify it as a shirt you guess .

A crime more like.

A neon orange tee with Naruto’s face plastered across the front. Not even a good print, some blurry stretched-out screenshot where his eyes look slightly lopsided. In the background are some other characters but they are so small you can only make out what character is who you can only make out by the very specific hair colour.

“This is from the show you enjoy, is it not?” Dream asks earnestly.

For half a second, there’s silence. Then you absolutely lose it. 

You burst out laughing to the point it turns to an ugly belly laugh, you lean against a pillar and cover your mouth.

Dream blinks, confused, tilting the shirt. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Cross snaps before you can wheeze out another word. His sockets flare with embarrassment. He gently pushes the shirt back toward the rack, careful not to insult Dream directly. “Thank you. But… no.”

Dream looks slightly puzzled but nods, carefully hanging the monstrosity back.

You’re still cackling, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Cross, I can’t- your face- oh my god-”

“Shut. Up.” His voice is low, tight, and furious, but not at Dream. All his anger is laser-focused on you, and that only makes you laugh harder.

“Okay… okay!” you wheeze. “But holy shit, I’m never letting you live this down.”

Cross’s sockets darken, and he looks two seconds from snapping the hanger in half. Still, he says nothing. Dream watches you both, clearly baffled but not pressing further. He only shakes his head slightly and adds another plain shirt to his growing pile.

Eventually, your arms ache from carrying all the ‘final picks’, which isn't Dream's fault. You kinda like the way his face lights up every time he picks out an article of clothing. Still, your arms hurt so you herd Dream toward the register before he can pick up anymore. He’s still muttering about finding “just one more comfortable shirt” when you plant yourself in line.

By now, he’s collected a small wardrobe. A gray knitted sweater, two pairs of jeans, one black, one blue, a handful of plain shirts and turtlenecks. You managed to steer him away from buying only yellow, but you couldn’t talk him out of one particularly tragic yellow sweater covered in sunflowers.

Who knew shopping would be fun with him. You were so worried about it being awkward…

You dissociate a little while cross and dream talk about…whatever boring shit they're talking about, You’re standing in the middle of them. Dream to your right, Cross to your left. They're chatting over your head which, kinda rude, but whatever. They kinda loom without even meaning to over you. You catch sight of your reflection in the little convex security mirror near the ceiling.

You look so small next to the two of them, and you aren't that short. They're just tall.

Something sour crawls up your throat. You can't help it, you're just spiteful at heart you guess.

You straighten your back, try to square your shoulders, but it doesn’t change the fact you barely take up half their space.

Dream hums contentedly beside you, shifting the clothes into your arms without thinking. “Thank you for helping me,” he says warmly. “I, of course, will pay you back.” He looks a little guilty now.

You blink up at him, caught off guard by the sincerity, and mumble, “Y-yeah. Whatever. Don’t mention it.”

Cross doesn’t say anything, but you notice him still holding the No Father Figure shirt. He hasn’t put it down.

You glare at him out of spite. “You’re really buying that?”

“Yep.” His tone is smug, he knows it’ll annoy you.

The cashier gives you all a wary look, well, he gives the monsters beside you a wary look. But says nothing, scanning the pile of shirts and sweaters with robotic efficiency.

Dream carefully slides a few extra coins onto the counter, he looks very embarrassed when you pull out your card and tap the machine. You snort and pocket his contribution. 

The three of you leave the thrift store, Dream holding two bags filled with new clothes looking chuffed with himself. You pull out your phone and message killer the picture of you holding up the ‘call me daddy shirt’ up against yourself in the mirror. Knowing yourself to forget if you don't send it now.

He messages back almost instantly saying that he needed that shirt. You message back saying he's anything but a daddy. 

Cross tries to snoop by looking over your shoulder subtly but you shoot him a look and pocket your phone.

The walk back toward the bus stop is slower, more relaxed. Dream swings the bags in his hands, still wearing that ridiculously pleased smile. You shove your hands into your hoodie pocket and glance up at him.

“So,” you say, “when we get back, you realize you’re doing a fashion show, right? Like, full runway walk, poses, the whole thing. Otherwise, what’s the point of all this?”

Dream’s eyelights brighten, and he lets out a delighted laugh. “A fashion show? That sounds most entertaining!.” He actually straightens his spine and struts a few steps down the sidewalk like he’s already practicing, his hoodie slips off his shoulder, making Cross roll his sockets.

“You’re ridiculous,” Cross mutters, but a smile spreads across his teeth and he looks away with a snort.

You grin. “See, he gets it. Runway-ready.” 

You just stare at how he sways his hips because how the fuck can a skeleton have a waist like that.

When you all reach the bus stop, you glance at the screen overhead. Ten minutes until the next bus. Perfect. Your gaze drifts across the street and lands on a little plant shop with rows of greenery visible through the window.

“Stay here,” you tell the boys suddenly. “ I’ll be right back.”

Cross raises a brow but doesn’t argue. Dream blinks, tilting his head. “Where are you going?”

“somewhere” you say, already jogging across the street. Missing the way Dream hesitates to follow.

The shop smells like soil and green things, instantly calming.

Shops like these are also home to you.

You browse quickly, scanning past the familiar leafy stuff. Pothos, snake plants, succulents. All nice, sure, but you’ve already got plenty of those at home or have had them in the past.

Then your eyes stop on a small pot near the cashiers counter. 

Sunflowers.

You just stare at them and feel their yellow petals. Didn't dream say that they were his favorite flower? 

…

You hesitate, then grab the pot. Your heart does a weird fluttering.

Cancer maybe.

By the time you pay and hurry back across the street, you feel vaguely stupid for it. 

They’re just flowers. Totally normal purchase. Absolutely not because you’re thinking about Dream .

Dream and Cross are waiting right where you left them. Cross is leaning against the bus stop pole with his arms folded, while Dream sits on the bench, bouncing his leg.

You clear your throat and tuck the sunflowers into one of your shopping bags, careful not to let Dream see. “Sorry. Took longer than I thought.”

Dream just smiles at you. “Welcome back”

You nod, lips pressed tight, and sit down beside him, trying not to think too hard about the fact that you just bought flowers because he likes them.

That feeling gets a little stronger when you sit next to him.

Chapter Text

Dreams hands rest in his lap as his thumbs rubbing idly against each other, watching the street.

This world is still new to him. 

Not the world per-say, but this way of living. The smell of smoke from cars, the constant chatter of people. No screaming, no hurt, no nightmare. There's a calm slowness to it all that's just so odd. He is used to chaos. The chaos of being a guardian and being a friend of inks.

And yet, he finds it… interesting.

Cross shifts beside him, arms folded, his weight pressed against the metal pole of the bus stop. He hasn’t said anything since you darted across the road, he's tracked you with a hawk-like gaze until you disappeared inside the plant shop. 

Thank the gods that cross is here. He missed him more than he thought he would.

“Mm” Cross mutters finally. His voice is low, tight. “We can’t stay here much longer.”

Dream hums and turns to him.

Cross flicks his gaze toward the crowded street, then back to Dream. “You already know I can’t open a portal…. Not here, not in this AU. Something’s wrong with it.”

Dream’s eyelights narrow. He had suspected as much, but hearing it said out loud makes his ribs ache. His fingers still in his lap. “You have tried again recently?"

Cross nods. “Yeah I’ve tried. Every night since we got stuck here but nothing works. My magic just… dissipates. Like this whole place swallows it up before I can even tear a crack open.”

Dream exhales slowly as his shoulders drop. “I see.”

He knows exactly what Cross is talking about unfortunately, whenever Dream had tried to port back to their base, his magic turns oddly and flickers weakly. Still weak… he's still so weak.

He just hopes he can't port out because his magic is not cooperating with him… and not because this AU is weird. 

“I don't understand…I was able to track your magic to this AU, get in so easily. But now I can't leave. I cant even open a portal or- or access the damn code.” Cross grunts out in frustration. He fiddles with his golden locket over his neck. Opening and closing the little heart.

Dream tilts his head back, eye sockets half-lidded. His chest feels tight, and he does not need to name the familiar emotions. 

Fear, and dread. 

It's funny, being a being of positivity people would think he feels nothing but happiness. They would think that he loves his role in the multiverse but…

but

Cross notices Dream starts to spiral. “Hey uh… Ink and Blue are fine remember?” he says abruptly while picking at his fingers. Cross obviously is trying to comfort dream, but for the wrong issue.

Still he is appreciative of Cross's effort.

“Ink was already back to his usual obnoxious self. You know how he is. Running his mouth, drawing nonsense everywhere. No sign he’s even hurt.”

A small smile touches Dream’s mouth despite himself.

“And Blue…” Cross’s voice falters slightly, but he pushes on. “Was still recovering. But he’s awake now and he's stable. They both wanted to start looking for you right away…”

Dreams chest hurts a little thinking of blue. He can handle himself well, but Dream has always had a soft spot for him. The whole team does. “Oh Blue…”

“He’s strong.” Cross cuts him off. “He’ll be fine. You do remember he has beaten ink in training before right?” The memory makes Dream smile a little. Ink kept calling him baby blue, little blue, blueberry. 

Blue knocked him on his ass. 

“Both of them are probably up already looking for us.”

Dream sighs.“If only we could contact them.”

“We can’t” Cross says flatly, pulling out his interdimensional phone. Unlike Dream who has a star of all their magic colours on a chain, Cross simply has a star sticker stuck on the back of his. “Already tried. No signals get through, It's like this place is cut off or something.” Cross looks up at the sky with a grimace before side eyeing Dream.

“That’s why I said we can’t stay. We need to move, get you somewhere you can absorb some positivity and start planning how we can get out of here.”

Dream nods slowly, though his chest still feels heavy. “Yes. I understand.”

Cross is quiet for a beat, then glances sideways at him. “And that’s not all. You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you? With the Human.”

Dream blinks, pulled from his thoughts. “____ ?”

Cross’s sockets narrow. “I don’t trust them.”

Dream tilts his head thoughtfully. He likes you, you've been kind and attentive. Delightfully sassy. But…

“Neither do I.”

Dream, with all the flashy frills and whistle and bells of being the guardian of positivity, doesn't trust easy. He used to, when he was a child, when Ink found him. But not anymore. The more he explored the multiverse the more he had harsh lessons and even harsher realisations. You can't trust everyone. You can't trust almost anyone. It'll lead to betrayal, manipulation and almost always pain.

He is of course still kind to people, and gives them the benefit of the doubt most of the time. He forgives a lot. Being closed off is no excuse to be rude or mean! But he has become picky with who he lets in.

Cross’s expression flickers in surprise, but he hides it quickly. “Then you agree?”

Dream folds his hands neatly and signs. “When I was recovering, my aura did not work on them. At all. Normally, even in my weakest moments, I can feel positive energy. I can gather it, amplify it, and feed off it. But with them” He trails off, searching for the right words. “I could feel nothing at all. As if they have no aura at all. Which, even the most closed off monsters and humans have an aura. I couldn't even feel a…a neutrality from them. Just hollowness”

Cross frowns deeper.

Dream exhales, his eyelights dimming slightly as he rubs his cheek. “Even now, I can only touch the edges of their emotions. I have to concentrate very hard. And even then, it is like trying to grasp smoke. I cannot read them as clearly as I can with others. When I used my magic to um- to convince them to let us stay it barely worked.”

Cross’s shoulders stiffen. “So they're hiding something. I knew it when i couldn't CHECK them.”

Dream hesitates. “Perhaps. But it could also be something else. A quirk of this world, maybe. Or simply who they are.” Dream doesn't believe that.

Cross snorts. “You’re too forgiving.”

Dream doesn’t respond immediately. His gaze drifts toward the plant shop across the street, where they had vanished inside. The thought lingers in his mind, stubborn, unshakable.

“they are… strange,” Dream admits softly. “I do not understand them. And yet…” He trails off, a small smile ghosting across his features despite himself. “I find myself interested in them.”

Cross whips his head toward him, sockets flaring. “You what?”

Dream blinks innocently. “they are funny. Peculiar yes, but… they have helped me. Even when they did not have to.”

Cross growls low in his throat. “You’re too soft, what if they- i mean- nightmare has spies in almost every verse-.”

Dream only hums noncommittal “And you are too mistrusting. My reading on them may be weak, but my brother was not here. I would have been able to sense him.”

The sound of hurried footsteps makes both dream and cross look up. They are crossing the street again, a bag tucked under their arm. They clear there throat as they approach, slipping back into place beside Dream.

“Sorry,” they say quickly. “Took longer than I thought.”

Dream’s chest lightens despite himself. He smiles warmly. “Welcome back.”

The bus ride is uneventful

Though Dream finds himself sneaking glances at the human. They sit close, shoulders brushing his now and then, your eyes flicking between the window and there phone. 

Cross is stone-facedsitting across from them , arms folded. Dream has always thought he acts much too old for his age while in the presence of strangers. He is only 35 compared to dreams 625 years.

Dream thinks back to the conversation he had with Cross and tries to sense there aura again. To reach out. 

But it’s the same as before. 

Muted and quiet, A blankness where there should be vibrancy. It should unsettle him more than it does. But it just frustrates him. He can read everyone else on this bus. But not you. Normally he would assume that negativity has gotten a grasp of your soul, but even then he should be able to feel something. Sometimes he can feel sparks of emotion, quick tastes of it. But then its gone. The frustration he feels should push him away

Instead, it… draws him.

You are like a puzzle he cannot solve. Humans are usually so very easy to read, their emotions spill out in floods, messy and bright. But you are muted. He can see your emotions in your expressions, hear them in your voice. And yet, you remain closed off.

Dream turns his head toward the window watching the city blur past, but his thoughts linger.

You are a funny little human.

Sharp-tongued, quick to tease. You scowl and snap at almost everything, are quick to be confrontational before being nice. He isn't surprised since you are from a fell verse, but the kindness you have shown him? That is something he has not seen in verses like these.

And maybe that is why his chest feels lighter when you laugh at your phone.

He exhales, shaking himself free of the thought as the bus slows. 

“Off we get then!”

You had no idea how close you were to dying 

I mean- seriously you'd think you would have an ounce of self-preservation when kill or be killed is litteraly ingrained into your verses culture.

Killer sits in his, admittedly, grimy ass room. He hasn't picked up his laundry from his chair since it was given to him 3 weeks ago. Then the pile he got 2 weeks ago is strewn all along his room's floor, mixing with dirty clothes. He has bags of fast food that have just been...marinating, scattered in random corners of his room.

He throws his knife up and down in the air as he lays in bed. One arm tucked under his skull as he dissociates and spaces the fuck out.

He turns to face the 'daily grinds coffee cup he kept. Having it on his side table close to his bed. The very first one you had been drinking out of when he first met you.

He had the full intention to kill you on the spot that night at the bus stop. Of course he expected a smart ass response from a human in a fell verse but he wasn't expecting you to ask if he was crying. That was new.

And new things interest him, so he didn't kill you right away.

How merciful of him.

He has almost spilled your guts across the pavement muuuuuultiple times. And every single time you give him a new reaction that just draws him to you further. You are by far the most interesting thing he's met this month.

You are something new

…

….Its been a slow month in all fairness.

Boss has been losing his marbles ever since Dream disappeared. He was just about to kill the fucker but he slipped away with the last of his magic. Needless to say, Nightmare has been taking his frustrations out on almost everyone that enters his office.

Killer catches the knife by the blade in the air and huffs.

Boss hasn't sent them on a mission since.

So in his unusually free time he's either smoked like he has no lungs (zing!), drank like he has no liver (Double zing!), pissed off dust ball or go back to searching for Dream. That was his million dollar idea, look for Dream so Nightmare can stop sulking and let them go back to their routine of killing and destroying things.

To get back to balancing the multiverse.

But he found something so so much better than boring old Dream. He found something that keeps his attention, a puzzle he hasn't cracked, a thing that keeps on entertaining him. Something that has brought him down from level 3 that wasn't Nighty.

You.

Now, he isn't some basement dwelling little freak that's obsessed with you for your body and looks, As attractive as you are. No, he's just… simply interested in you. 

He watches the knife glint from the dim light in his room. Twirling it around is fingers.

How on god's green earth did you manage to calm him right down, to stop him from murdering everyone in that damn coffee shop. He was especially unstable that day since his LV was burning in his marrow, calling for him to kill something.

He stares at the roof of his room and huffs. A bottle of vodka right next to him, half empty. He picks it up and takes a long swig, embracing the burn that runs down his throat.

He's not obsessed. 

He couldn't perform a CHECK on you the first time he met you. It was… not that uncommon for high LV monsters. But a little pissy human? That's weird. 

He's not obsessed. 

He's tried to preform CHECKS on you every time he's met you since but still nothing. At one point he thought he would just pull you into an encounter and beat the information out of you. Have you killed before? What level where you? What trait was your soul? 

He hoped it was determination. Or maybe it was justice? Nah, you seemed like an integrity soul.

Gods, he needs to get a fucking life.

His soul does a wild twitch willing him to sit up with a long groan.

He should send you another cat meme.

He plucks his phone from his pocket and snorts opening your message. Call me daddy huh? On top of you being something new and entertaining you are humorous. He flops back down and replies.

Bus Girl: [Photo]

You: Bro I need that shirt

Bus Girl: u are anything but a daddy relax

Killer grins and drops his phone onto his chest before looking back at the ceiling.

He chucks a knife up at the ceiling and it lodges itself right in the center with a ‘bang’.

He won't kill you. Not yet. He does plan to kill you in the end but why not have some fun with it? Although it will be a shame once your gone. But he'll collect your blood in a jar with the rest of his trophies.

He looks at the display of dust filled jars on his shelf.

Right in the middle of all the other jars, front and centre.

Yeah

That sounds good.

Chapter Text

Dream stands in the middle of your hallway, tugging at the hem of the black turtleneck. He's looking down at his body and striking a small pose.

You kinda definitely forced him to actually give a fashion show.

He's 5 outfits in.

You squint at him from where you’re sitting on the couch, Cross sits on the arm of the chair while watching with interest. 

He looks like he’s about to start lecturing at a university. Or worse, like he’s about to unveil the next iPhone.

“Christ” you mutter as your lip twitches upwards. “You look like a monster Steve Jobs. All you need are glasses and a stage to pace on.”

Cross lets out a grunt that might be an approval? You aren't sure since he's in a mood right now. His sockets flicker with faint amusement and he tilts his head.

Dream on the other hand brightens instantly once he catches a glimpse of himself in the full length mirror in the hall. ignoring your jab completely.

“I like this style” he says warmly, turning around to see himself from behind in the mirror. “It is simple and comfortable. I feel scholarly.” He says matter-of-factly.

You roll your eyes, though you can’t keep the smile from tugging at your lips. “Yeah you look reeeaaallll smart alright.”

Dream chuckles and walks back down to change in the bathroom, to see the next outfit.

When he reappears, he's in a black polo with a mustard-yellow sweater layered over it. The collar peeks out above the neckline, and paired with baggy black cargo jeans cinched by a belt. 

He looks alright actually…

He stands a little stiffly, tugging at the sleeves while he looks at the two of you .

“Well?” 

You tilt your head, scanning him from head to toe. “Your posture is like, really good ya know that?”

Dream huffs at you and looks in the mirror, checking himself out. “Yes well, I need to have good form for my bow, that involves having correct posture.”

“Wait what?” He's an archer??

He ignores your very obvious curiosity in that little bit of information.

“I feel so youthful dressing like this” he murmurs, glancing down at himself. “Like I am dressing as a teenager would.”

That earns a bark of laughter from you. “Youth? fella you’re acting like you’re eighty… Wait how old even are you?”

Dream turns to you with a small smile and blinks at you. “Six hundred and twenty-five.”

You stare. 

…

Then stare harder. “Nah you’re lyin’ to my face right now.”

He only laughs and Cross’s smirk turns very smug as his eyelights drift to you.

“No really” Dream insists. “Six hundred and twenty-five. It is the truth.”

Cross backs him up with a shrug. “He’s not kidding. Old man’s ancient.”

Dream scrunches up his nose playfully at cross with a boyish grin. “Oh hush you.”

Your jaw drops. “You- what the hell? That’s… Can monsters actually be that old?? I thought you were like- I dunno 32?? 42?!” The words tumble out before you can stop them. Dream flushes and ducks his skull slightly.

From the way he talks, like in a really weird formal way, you knew he was on the older side. Even down to his mannerisms…. But 625 years old? You honestly cant tell if hes fucking with you or not.

Cross snorts “You broke the human’s brain grampa.”

Dream huffs as yellow dusts his cheek bones, glaring weakly at Cross with embarrassment.

Well that wont do.

You jab a finger toward Cross. “And I thought you were older, with how much of a grumpy bitch you are.” grumbling that last part with slight venom.

That wipes the smug look off his face. Cross splutters “I’m not-” He gets cut off when Dream laughs loudly and covers his mouth, he laughs harder looking at Cross's embarrassed face.

His laugh is very contagious.

You snort and look away when Cross’s face starts to turn purple.

The fashion show continues. Dream cycles through a bunch of different outfits. Another few sweaters, jeans, shirts and turtle necks. He's a real fan of turtle necks.

Any clothing he's in that isn't just a simple plain colour he thinks makes him look like ‘youth’. You chuckle and tell him that no, adding more colours to an outfit doesn't mean he's trying to look younger. When you ask him if that feeling applies to his costume he was originally in when he crash landed here, he simply says ‘that's different’.

Eventually, he returns to the black polo and yellow sweater combo. He adjusts the collar and nods. “I will wear this one for now, I look quite flashy.”

You’re lounging across the couch by now, legs hanging off one armrest, watching him fuss with the fabric. “Good choice” you say easily. “Better than Steve Jobs anyway.”

That earns you a playful glare. He walks over to you and tilts his head. “Where is my original uniform?”

You pause, original uniform?.... 

“Oh- uh.” You roll off the couch, shuffling to the coffee table and tugging open the little storage bin beneath it. 

“Here.” You hold up the crumpled clothes. The ripped to shreds body suit, belt, gloves, cape and all. “Needs a wash, and maybe a patch job.”

Dream takes the cape delicately, holding it up to let it fan out. It's ripped and has random holes scattered around the fabric, you only notice now but it looks like the end has been singed by fire? 

“This cape has sentimental value. I’ve worn it since I was very young, It feels strange without it.”

Cross stands next to Dream and presses into his side with a small frown, he brushes his hands over the symbol of the sun that's in the center of the cape.

He looks like a kicked puppy and it's tugging at your heart strings, just a little.

“Well. Hang on.” You duck into the side drawer, fishing out an old battered cookie tin. When you open it up it's actually a sewing kit you’ve had forever, you actually think it used to be your grandmother's. “Here, I know fuck all about sewing but If you want to fix it the option is there.”

His whole expression shifts, lighting up with gratitude. He holds out his hands for the box as you plop back down onto the couch, once he gets the box he sits cross-legged on the floor also immediately. “Oh thank you!” 

You feel the need to make a snide comment about him sitting on the ground like a child instead of sitting next to you on the couch. But his forearm and a bit of his back is leaning against your leg, and you wouldn't want to disturb his concentration or anything…

…He's warm for a skeleton.

You keep your mouth shut.

He opens the box and starts to colour match yellow threads to his cape. Pulling out a needle and hyper focusing on patching up the rips and holes.

Cross shifts next to you, looming over you a little with his arms crossed. His eyelights flick briefly to Dream, then back to you. For a while silence stretches, broken only by the faint scrape of thread through fabric.

You glance at Cross, arching a brow. “What?”

“Nothing” he mutters, though the corner of his mouth twitches.

The feeling of Dream’s arm brushing against your leg as he sews is distracting, heat pools at your cheeks. You force yourself to relax, searching for a distraction instead of doing the normal thing and asking Dream to scoot away.

You decide the best distraction is to piss off Cross. Yep, definitely the best way of dealing with this.

“You always ‘nothing’ everything, you know that right?” you prod, leaning back against the couch with a grin. “Bein’ tall, dark and asshole doesn't suit you.”

Cross shoots you a look sharp enough to cut. “Better than being a mouthy brat.”

You gasp and put a hand over your chest. “Wow! That's so hurtful. And here I thought bonded over our shoppin’ trip huh?”

He huffs at you with his mouth curled, something between irritation and dismissal. “Seriously, though” you say as you lean down and hook a finger under Dreams' circlet and tilt it crooked. “Do you ever lighten up?”

You just feel like being annoying now you guess.

Dream grunts and rights his circlet, tapping your leg sharply and muttering 'tyrant' in rebuttal. 

Cross exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s weighing whether you’re worth answering. That makes your grin sharpen. “Someone has to stay alert. He-” a sharp nod at Dream “-is still somewhat hurt and is very comfortable staying here.”

Dream smiles at him with a very sarcastic laugh.

“Y’know” you add slyly “for someone who pretends to hate everything, I'm sure you're secretly a softie. That's a cute thought.”

His brows furrow and he glares at you outright. “Cute?”

“Yeah.” You grin. “Big bad Cross being a secret mother hen. Adorable.” You purse your lips and pout at him “bet you secretly like me~”

He splutters again, which is becoming your new favourite sound to pull out of him. “I do not-” He snaps with a quite frankly, intimidating growl, but that intimidation leaves you when he looks away with gritted teeth.

You chuckle feeling very self satisfied. “God, you’re easy.”

Cross mutters something under his breath that sounds like a curse. But he doesn’t move away from your teasing. You let the silence stretch on when you pull out your phone to check if you have any new messages. Dream hums softly to himself as he threads another stitch, the rhythm steady and calming.

Dreams folded his cape neatly across his lap, his fingers running along a rip in the seam. He works in silence, the tv is the only thing you can hear in the background.

You're not actually watching it though, you just don't like silence.

You’re slouched on the couch, switching between watching Dream at your weird angle and scrolling on your phone. Cross has taken the armchair in the corner with his arms crossed, posture defensive as always. His sockets flick to you occasionally, but mostly he seems to be watching the tv or making faces at Dream who is completely absorbed in sewing. 

Which is unnerving. 

So you break the silence.

“So…” you say slowly, turning to Cross. “Gonna keep staring at me, or are you just hoping I die on the spot?”

“Not ruling it out.”

You roll your eyes. “Charming.”

He doesn’t reply, just smirks faintly. You’re about to press further when Dream hums quietly, absorbed in his sewing. Somehow he's shuffled without your notice, until now, and he has his skull resting against your thigh.

You are suddenly hyper aware of everything now, every little move he makes against your legs. The feeling of his hard skull against your soft skin.

Fuck- piss off Cross-

Your gaze darts back to Cross. “I-i don't think I’ve ever seen you chill you know. I aint gonna randomly stab you.”

Cross tilts his head, unimpressed. “Do I look like I ‘chill’?”

“Yes” you say instantly, just to mess with him. “I bet you secretly crochet blankets or some shit when no one’s looking.”

That actually gets a chuckle out of him. A low handsome sound as he rolls his eyes and smirks. “Oh sure.”

You smile triumphantly. “Caught ya. That’s the sound of a man who crochets.”

Dream chuckles under his breath without looking up, clearly eavesdropping. “I would very much like a blanket Cross.”

“You’re both insufferable.”

You lean back into the couch and relax best you can. “Could be worse, At least you're not a six hundred years old man sitting on the floor sewing an ugly cape.”

Dream shoots you a patient side-eye, needle sliding neatly through fabric. “Six hundred and twenty five actu-wait ugly!?” Dream sounds aghast and turns his head until his chin is resting on your knee. Glaring at you.

You stick out your tongue with a flat expression.

Cross snorts and picks at his phalanges. “You’re still stuck on that?”

“Yes!” you throw your hands up with sudden exasperation. “Because it’s insane! I thought you were, like 50 tops.” You can't help but wonder what the underground was like for him being that old! Was he around when they were driven underground? You wanna ask so bad but it's probably very traumatic for them…

Dream’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. “I told you the truth. I don't know why you insist on doubting me.”

“Because it’s bullshit!” you say, glaring at Cross. “And you acting like it’s no big deal is pissing me off.”

Cross shrugs. “Because it isn’t. He’s old, get over it.”

You point at him dramatically. “You’re telling me you’re not ancient too?”

Cross freezes just a fraction too long before scoffing. “Not like him.”

“Aha!” you crow, grinning. “So you’re an old man too!”

His sockets flare with irritation. “I’m not old per se."

“Yeah but you’re a grumpy fuck half the time and respond in grunts the other half.” you shoot back.

Dream cracks up and his shoulders shake silently. Cross scowls at him, which only makes him laugh harder.

“I’m thirty five” Cross says and looks to the side with a soft flush on his cheeks. He's starting to look genuinely a little annoyed and dream picks up on it as well. So you drop it and bite back any other comments you have.

Dream has finished up his cape and sets it aside on the coffee table folded neatly, holes repaired with careful precision. His hands linger on the fabric with a smile. “There, Good as new.”

The cape lies neatly folded on the coffee table. Dream smooths his palm across it one more time before he stretches out his limbs with a soft huff.

Meanwhile, you’re sprawled on the couch with your phone tilted above your face. You’ve been scrolling for like, ten minutes? Fifteen? without actually absorbing anything useful.

Ugh, you are bored as hell.

You mutter to yourself. “I’m hungry.”

Dream walks over to the couch and flops down onto it, smiling over at you. “Hungry?”

“Yeah.” You sit up, stretching until your spine pops, missing the way Cross cringes. “Gonna get some pizza maybe… yeah I want pizza. Yous want anything on it?”

Cross waves you off with a grunt, the universal language for ‘whatever don’t care.’ 

“Helpful” you say dryly, opening the delivery app. “Dream?”

“I will eat anything” he says 

You nod, tapping in the build your own pie section of the order. “Cool, pepperoni it is.” You don't feel like being fancy with the toppings tonight.

Dream hums softly. Then under his breath says “I could make us dinner instead, you know. Pizza is greasy.”

You shoot him a deadpan look. “That’s the point, Dream.”

“It is really not healthy-”

“Shut up.” You lazily fling a cushion at him as he turns his head to face you. He deflects it clumsily with a startled ‘hmph!’ sound. “Don’t ruin this for me, I want the grease.”

Dream pushes the cushion away from his face and throws it back at you. You chuckle and slip it behind your head while putting your card details into the phone. 

By the time the pizza order is confirmed, the sunlight outside has lessened and the sky turns a soft reddish orange. You push yourself up from the couch and glance toward the window.

You should probably get ready for bed soon, you've got work tomorrow. Ugh, hopefully it will be a slow day.

You mull over the idea of starting your nighttime routine.

Aka getting into your pjs on, brushing your teeth and diving straight first into bed.

But your body rebels instantly. You’re too comfortable and your limbs heavy, from walking all day long around the thrift shop. You also carried Dream's clothes around for a while making your arms feel like noodles. 

You feel… nice being next to Dream. You feel a fuzzy feeling in your chest which you don't want to address right now. He makes you feel kinda giddy. It's been a while since you have made friends, real friends. You've been in survival mode for so long you have forgotten what it's like to just relax with people. To even surround yourself with people you tolerate. So its easy to chalk up that feeling to your blooming friendship.

It's normal to want to be around someone your befriend…

…

So what if you stayed in the living room with Dream and Cross for a little while longer…. They wouldn't mind right? 

It's your goddamn house anyways, it doesn't matter if they want you there or not you'll be here! Well that's a little intense…

You also don’t want to move.

You glance at Dream, who has perched himself neatly on the couch, with his freakishly straight posture and his hands folded in his lap. Then at Cross, who still looks stiff.

You think of an excuse valid reason to stay. It's been awhile since you've rotted on your couch and done nothing, so maybe a movie night would be a good idea.

You suddenly feel a little shy to ask and blurt out

“Movie night?”

Way to go, you sound pathetic.

Dream tilts his head towards you before his face lights up. “Oh yes that sounds delightful!”

Cross rolls one shoulder with an unimpressed. “Sure.”

That’s good enough for you. 

You clap your hands together and bounce toward the kitchen. “Hell yeah, imma go make some popcorn."

You fish a dusty bag of popcorn from the pantry and toss it into the microwave. The hum fills the kitchen, then the sharp pop pop pop of kernels exploding one after the other. You stare through the microwave door watching the bag jump every now and then. You go to the fridge and grab some cans of soda.

You return with a big bowl in your arms and three cans tucked under your arm. Cross has dragged the inflatable mattress from in front of the couch, spreading it across the floor behind the couch out of the way for the movie viewing. Dream has brought his small stack of blankets, draping them over couch arms.

You stop in the doorway for a second, the sight tugging at something behind your ribs. 

It’s all… weirdly domestic. 

You are really getting used to having these skeletons in your apartment. Despite Cross only recently joining the fray.

You sound so cringy.

Shaking it off, you plop the popcorn on the coffee table. Dream, already curled in one corner of the couch, beams at you. You forget about the socially acceptable option of sitting on the opposite corner of the couch and leaving space and sink down right beside him.

Naturally. Totally naturally.

Except it’s not. Because you can feel Cross’s gaze land on you immediately. He stops for a moment before sitting down next to you.

Now you’re sandwiched.

You and Cross eye each other for a second, silent challenge sparking between you two. You have no idea what the challenge is but you sure as hell don't want to lose. He doesn’t move so you don’t either. 

Then you grab the remote ignoring him.

You open Netflix on the TV and log into your account. “So” you announce, “what’ll it be?”

After a few minutes of vetoes. Cross complaining that the movies you suggest are “too stupid”, you complain that his suggestions are “too boring”. Because you are very petty. Dreams two cents of “Twilight looks interesting” makes you put on the first thing you land on in the animation section. You land on Kiki’s Delivery Service.

Dream’s interested hum and cross’s settled silence settles the debate.

You click play and settle into the couch with a smile, you haven't seen his movie in awhile.

……

….

Now do you realise that the couch is way too small for three people.

How is a dream comfortable sleeping on this??

On the left Dream sits politely by your side with his knees together and his hands folded in his lap. He doesn't take up too much space despite how tall he is. But your arm is still pressed against his. On the right, Cross on the other hand sprawls out. His legs spread open slightly as he bounces one, his left arm draped over the back of the couch while his other rests on the couch's armrest. He has his arm behind your head so your arm is millimeters away from his side.

Amazing.

The blanket Dream threw over the three of you covers your legs and torso, shared half with Cross and half with Dream. Your leg occasionally brushes against dreams when you try to angle your body away from Cross.

This is fine.

The doorbell rings twenty minutes into the movie.

“Cross, get the door.” You don’t even glance away from the screen.

He only grunts at you. So you knock him in the leg with your foot. “Crossssss”

He growls at you but unfolds from the couch anyway. When he returns with the pizza box. You thank the heavens.

“Yessss.” You tear it open, steam and cheese scent flooding the room. “I am starvin’.”

Dream eyes it and deflates with a whine. “It is dripping with oil.”

“Exactly,” you say around a mouthful already. “Now shuddup and eat it, you' re not above eatin’ pizza, golden boy”

Dream sighs, long-suffering, but takes a slice anyway while sticking his tongue out at you.

You still aren't over the fact that it's yellow.

Cross takes a slice and leans back against the couch, He folds the pizza slice in half and chows down.

You all get back into the movie, Dream making little comments here and there about things. His favourite character so far is the little cat. Cross agrees with him and so do you.

Sometime after the credits roll, you realize your phone has slipped from your hand. The popcorn bowl is empty on the table, the pizza box discarded half-open on the floor. The TV plays the next recommended movie, but you can’t find the energy to move. Or register what the movie even is.

Your eyelids are heavy.

your body sinks deeper into the cushions.

You strain your eyes to try to keep them open to watch the next movie, pulling the blanket up over your chest and trying to sit up. The last thing you register is the weight of the blanket tucked under your chin. 

Then darkness.

You feel your body begin to wake up and groan.

Your head is laying on something uncomfortably hard. That's what she said heh.

Your eyes flutter open briefly before they close again.

….

Work

….

You whine and sigh before your eyes open to the sight of pale light seeping through the blinds. For a moment you're disoriented and you think you’re back in your bed. 

But the distinct smell of apples and pine wakes you up.

Your head is in Dream’s lap.

He’s slouched in the corner, still upright but clearly asleep, his skull is tipped to one side resting on his hand as he leans on the armrest. His other hand rests loosely on you

Specifically tangled in your hair.

What is happening?!

Your entire body goes stiff.

It gets worse.

As you look down you find that one of your legs has traitorously flopped across Cross’s lap while the other dangles off the edge of the couch. You don't out right leap off the couch, not because you don't want to, but because you can't. Cross’s hand has curled around your thigh, close to your knee. His grip is loose but still tight enough to keep it there in his sleep. His head has tipped all the way back against the couch, mouth hanging open. A faint snore rattles out.

You are caged. Absolutely, horrifyingly caged.

Your brain scrambles. Don't panic. Do not shout...... okay do panic, whatdoidoohmygo—

You gently wiggle your leg experimentally, and Cross’s grip tightens instinctively. Dream’s fingers twitch in your hair, tugging gently as he exhales a huff of contentment.

Every nerve in your body is on fire right now.

Okay Okay. Slow. Careful. Don’t wake the monsters.

You wait until you are sure they wont wake up, then inch your way out of Cross’s hold. His hand slides down your shin, still half-curled, and your heart almost leaps out of your throat. 

You twist, slipping off the couch entirely, landing in an awkward crouch. Dream shifts but doesn’t wake, his hand falling limp to his lap.

Free at last.

You stand there for a second, staring at the mess you’ve left behind. Dream’s skull tilted gracefully, Cross’s body sprawled out and the blanket tangled around both.

Your stomach does a flip, and your entire face feels like its on fire.

You were laying on the two of them, you were skin to bone, your head was in Dreams-

Nope. Not thinking about that.

You tiptoe to the kitchen, hands shaking as you yank bread from the press. You pop them in the toaster and freak the fuck out internally..

It’s fine. Totally fine. You’ll just forget all about it.

AS IF YOU COULD FORGET ABOUT THIS. 

You speed through eating your toast, downing a quick cup of water and fleeing down the hall to your room. You flail a little as your mind races. You throw on your uniform and put your hair in a messy bun, brushing your teeth and opening your bedroom door.

The feeling of Cross’s hand on your thigh, how tight it was-

NO! NO STOP!

You feel like your face is about to melt off as you shrug your jacket on and grab your keys, you left your phone in the living room. But it's really not worth going back in to get it.

“Good morning-”

You have a full body reaction and jolt, filinging the front door open. 

“GOTTO GO TO WORKOKAYSEEYOUWHENIMHOMEOKAYBYE” *Slam*

You practically scramble down the stairs and hold your hands to your cheeks. 

You have zero idea what you're acting like a blushing virgin, why your face is so so red, why your heart is pounding so hard in your chest. Its not like you fucked the two of them? You haven't felt this way since- 

…since.

The embarrassment you feel gets overshadowed slightly by a spike of panic. You lean against the bus stop and take a few calming breaths.

You push as much out of your mind as you can and swallow thickly. You'll deal with all these feelings later.

As you get on the bus and sit in the window seat you brush your fingers over your knuckle.

Going home after work is gonna be fun…