Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You are not going to that fucking prison, Tommy,” Tubbo asserted. “And that is fucking final.”

Tommy glared at him. Then at Ranboo, who shrunk in on himself and avoided eye contact. Then at Jack, who looked both awkward and angry to be there. There, at the Underscore-Beloved mansion in Snowchester.

An intervention.

There was even a banner.

It was misspelled.

Prime, he didn’t want to be here.

“You are fucking kidding me. I thought we already had this conversation?” Tommy grumbled, arms crossed as he leaned further back on the way too comfortable couch. He wasn’t used to soft things. He slept on the ground more often than in his own bed, had been doing so ever since Pogtopia.

“You ran off halfway through,” Tubbo reminded him.

“Off a cliff,” Ranboo helpfully added, only to shrink in on himself again at Tommy’s glare.

Jack only raised a brow.

Tommy scoffed. “So what? It’s my life. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“And as your friends, we support you,” Tubbo said and pinched the bridge of his nose. Jack scowled at the ‘friends’ bit. So did Tommy. “But when what you’re doing is clearly not fucking good for you, it’s our job, as your friends to put a stop to it.”

Ranboo looked like he wanted to say something, either against what Tubbo just said, or to add nuance, neither of which Tubbo allowed, shooting it down with only a sharp look. Instead, Ranboo said, “We worry about you. You’ve been… difficult to reach.”

Understatement of the century. Tommy had, in fact, been avoiding both Tubbo and Ranboo… and Jack apparently, why-ever the fuck he was even here. “I’m busy,” Tommy said plainly.

“Busy with Dream,” Jack said snidely, rolling his eyes, “Honestly, I don’t care that you keep visiting him-”

“Jack-” Tubbo warned.

But Jack continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “I’m just surprised it didn’t happen sooner. With the way you two were obsessed with each other, I’d have thought you’d have fucked earlier.”

Tommy froze. How did he– No. He had to turn this around. Fast.

“JACK!” Tubbo yelled, outraged. Ranboo looked at Jack with shocked wide eyes and Tubbo was about to reprimand Jack further, but he, and everyone, was caught off guard by the sound of a muffled sob.

They turned to Tommy, whose eyes were tearing up, staring at the ground, mouth hidden behind his hand, trembling. He hiccuped another sob, his whole body shook by it. Their eyes bulged with surprise.

They had never seen Tommy cry.

“Tommy?” Ranboo ventured carefully. Even Jack looked put off.

Tommy shook his head. “Yeah, no- I figured-” he stammered. “I figured that’s how you- you felt.”

“Tommy, no-” Tubbo said, sounding helpless for a second there, “Jack’s being stupid, that’s not what we think-”

“Yeah right,” Tommy snarled through tears, ripping his hand from his mouth. He continued through a sob, “Because why else would TommyInnit possibly want to visit Dream? It’s not like, for the first time in ages, it wasn’t up to anyone fucking else where he could go! Or that he had any control over whether Dream got to see him! Or that he got to do what he wanted without being exiled over it!”

Tubbo looked like Tommy had slapped him in the face. Ranboo looked at him with worry and pity (fuck that). And Jack- Jack looked like he was fucking sorry for once in his miserable little life.

Tommy hadn’t wanted to do this. He hadn’t wanted to pull out the waterworks. Hadn’t wanted to throw the past into their faces. But he knew they would not have let him go otherwise. He felt bad, but he pushed all those feelings into keeping the tears and sobs realistic.

“Tommy, we didn’t-” Ranboo tried, but Tommy shook his head.

“You think I don’t know Dream is a terrible person? You think I don’t know he’s awful? I’ll tell you a secret: I know! I know first-fucking-hand how fucked up he can be! But for the first fucking time, he has no control over me! I- I still can’t believe it sometimes…“ his outburst trailed off into quiet sobs that he hid behind his hand again, hunching over.

Ranboo came to sit down next to him, wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace. Tubbo was still frozen in his spot, stricken.

“It’s all right, Tommy. He doesn’t have control over you any more. You’re in charge of you. If it helps you heal, I’m for your visits,” Ranboo said, voice low and soothing, rubbing Tommy’s back as he kept crying, kept trembling.

“Ranboo-” Tubbo tried, but shut up at Ranboo’s pleading look.

“I’ve seen what Dream did to Tommy,” he admitted quietly. “Not everything, but… Dream had a lot of control over everything he did in exile. I can’t imagine what it must be like to suddenly be… free from something so oppressing. To finally feel like you have control again.”

Tubbo looked unhappy, but he couldn’t think of anything against what Ranboo just said. After a tense moment of silence, he sighed and sagged in his seat, hunching over and holding his head in his hands, defeated. “Fine,” he breathed, “But on one condition.” His back straightened again and he looked sternly at Tommy, briefly meeting his eyes. “You go to therapy on top of that.”

Tommy swallowed. He knew Tubbo – stubborn to a fault Tubbo – would not negotiate on that front. This was final, truly. If Tommy wanted his friends, and Jack, off his back about this, he had no other choice.

Haha. Funny. No choice. No control. Like he hadn’t just cited that as the core problem. The irony seemed to be lost on Tubbo, but not on Ranboo, who tensed and grimaced, but ultimately didn’t say anything against it. Spineless coward.

Jack mumbled awkwardly, “Uh… Puffy’s opened a therapy office…”

Was… was that an attempt at being helpful just now? From Jack? Wow, Tommy must have really laid it on thick for Jack to feel so terrible about what he ‘caused’.

Tommy sniffled, slowly letting the sobs subside, letting Ranboo believe he was doing a good job at comforting him. He glanced at Jack, who flinched and looked twice as sorry now. Tommy must be a sight. Then at Tubbo, whose mouth twitched into a scowl. Then at Ranboo, who shot him a reassuring smile.

“… Okay…” Tommy replied, sounding small.

Everyone noticeably relaxed and let out a sigh of relief. This was followed by a long, awkward moment of silence.

“Sooo, I made cake?” Ranboo offered awkwardly and the tension was eased.

--------------------

When did this happen?

Dream didn’t know

Tommy hadn’t visited in… days, he hoped. At first, Dream hadn’t worried. He’d known Tommy would come back. He always did. They’ve done this song and dance so often now that there could never be a question of if. But now… things had changed.

“So quiet all of a sudden,” the voice echoed, despite the lava curtain swallowing noise up, or maybe it was a trick of the mind, “Have I broken you already? Pity.”

Blinding pain. He heard himself scream.

When did this happen?

--------------------

It started two cycles after Tommy left their last visit, promising to be back. (And oh, hadn’t that been so sweet to hear out of Tommy’s mouth? They’d come so far.)

Dream was eating the raw potato that had been dispensed when the sounds of the door mechanisms rattled through the cell, drawing his eye to the lava curtain, regarding it with confusion and suspicion. Tommy had left not too long ago, he was never back within fewer than fives cycles, so this could not have been him.

And it wasn’t.

As the curtain fell, granting Dream precious few moments of a different view, he saw not the familiar blond on the other side, let in by a reluctant warden, but rather… Quackity? Dream hadn’t known Sam allowed anyone but Tommy to visit him. (If so, then why hadn’t George or Sapnap ever visited? The implications stung more than he allowed himself to admit.)

Quackity, with his usual raven hair hidden under that obnoxious red beanie, but that was about where the familiarities ended. He was dressed very differently, much more formal, but with a casual touch; his wings which were once a vibrant yellow looked dull and barely cared for; but it was his face that unnerved Dream the most. Quackity’s left eye was shut, with a large scar connecting it to his mouth, making one golden tooth permanently visible and making Quackity look like he was snarling.

The sight of him, so changed, so marred and tainted by the past, sent a shiver of unease down Dream’s spine, despite himself. He had never clocked Quackity as much of a threat, if any. He’d always found the man annoying, if vaguely amusing and possibly charming, the latter only on a good day. But this Quackity was a far cry from that.

And Dream didn’t like change. Not when it snarled at him from across a lake of lava.

Quackity crossed the lava to Dream, and the trip seemed to take forever, with Quackity never breaking eye contact with Dream. Unnerving fucker.

But Dream wouldn’t be Dream if he let anyone’s off vibe make him cower. He sat on the floor, back against his chest (brushing against the memory of Tommy kneeling for him, looking up at him, his mouth-). Casual. Like he wasn’t going wild with theories on what Quackity was doing here.

When Quackity had crossed, he just stood there for a while, staring. Then, the lava curtain began to descend again, cutting off the cell from the world outside once more, locking them in. Locking him in. With Quackity.

Once the curtain dropped, Quackity took a single step forward, watching Dream carefully. Dream didn’t react. He let Quackity think he had the high ground. It would make him confident. Confidence makes sloppy. Sloppy means a slip up. And what that means for Dream… is still uncomfortably up in the air and out of his control. Control. Ha.

“Long time no see, Dream,” Quackity crooned with a strange tone of voice. Almost… eager. “Orange looks good on you.”

Dream resisted the reflex to look at his own clothes. The prison uniform Sam had forced him into when he had first gotten here. It was an eye-sore orange, or it used to be, because Sam didn’t bother cleaning it for Dream, and it’s colour was dulled because of it. He tilted his head to the side.

“I appreciate it. You know, I always thought it clashed with my eyes.” Eyes which Quackity couldn’t see. Eyes that were kept from everyone but Tommy behind a mask. (Because Tommy was special. Tommy was his.)

Quackity’s perpetual smile twitched. Good. It wasn’t lost on him.

“You know why I’m here, Dream,” Quackity rasped. “The only reason you’re here.”

And yet, somehow, it hadn’t occurred to Dream in the slightest. He hadn’t been asked for it since he was put in prison. His bargaining chip. He had nearly forgotten. He’d been so busy with Tommy… and Tommy with him.

“The revival book,” Quackity said after a dramatic pause. He’d really gained a taste for theater, hadn’t he. “If you were even speaking the truth about that.”

Dream nodded. He hadn’t proven his ability yet. The only reason he had been left alive. (The only reason that had gotten Tommy to pause before killing him one last time… was it strange that Dream fantasized about that moment? About the look in Tommy’s eyes that promised vengeance and pain?)

“Who do you want me to revive?” Dream asked. He could use this. Get Quackity to owe him. The fool probably wanted Schlatt revived, his dead husband, the blind-with-love idiot. Or Wilbur. If Dream recalled correctly, they’d had a thing in Pogtopia. Damn. What a terribly taste in men.

Quackity’s smile widened to a grin. “Who said I want anyone revived?”

Dream’s smile faltered at that. “Then… what do you want…”

The glint in Quackity’s good eye turned eager, his stance a bit wider, his body tremoring slightly with uncontained energy. “I want the revival book, Dream. And you are going to give it to me.”

Dream swallowed and straightened his back. “What makes you think I’ll do that? Nevermind that I don’t have it on me.”

“Then you’ll tell me where you’ve hidden it,” Quackity replied quickly, impatient. He took a step towards Dream, who started to get up from the floor. He didn’t like the way Quackity was stalking towards him.

“And what makes you think I’ll do that?” he repeated, more agitated this time. Everything about this felt off, he just couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t like Quackity had any power here.

“Oh, I think you’ll find I have a wonderful incentive for you.” He took another step closer. His eye promised pain.

That was ridiculous. He couldn’t. “Sam wouldn’t allow you to harm me,” he reasoned. “And besides, you can’t beat me in a 1v1-”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. You’ve been here – how long – five months?” Oh. Good to know. “You don’t exactly have any means to exercise. Nor nutritional meals… nor weapons. Whereas I…”

Quackity pulled out a sword. Then put it away. Then pulled out an axe. Put it away. Then pulled out a trident.

Now Dream fully stood up, shoulders tense. “How- how did you get that past Sam.”

Quackity laughed, “Oh, you still think big warden Sam is gonna protect you? That he gives a shit about what happens to you?”

“He said nothing would kill me in here. He wouldn’t let you kill me!” Dream snarled, hackles raised.

The dark chuckle out of Quackity’s throat did not bode well for Dream, and what Quackity said next made his blood run cold.

“Now, who said anything about killing you?”

Chapter Text

When Tommy visited the prison for the first time in three weeks, Sam looked at him with surprise and guilt. Now, Tommy knew he hadn’t visited in a while, despite saying he would visit often, last time he was here, but Puffy was adamant about talking to him every day for the past three weeks for therapy. Don’t get him wrong, Puffy seemed like a cool person, and seemed to actually want Tommy to get better, whatever that meant, but it also kept him from visiting Dream.

Sam almost didn’t want to let him in, which was weird, only because he seemed very insistent. But then Tommy pulled the same strings he had last time, added some tears on top, and Sam bent.

Tommy was giddy with excitement and anticipation. His every bone was humming with energy. If he didn’t have a woe-is-me vibe to keep up around Sam, he’d be jumping and flapping his hands. He was already going red, imagining everything they could get up to, but he blamed it on the heat of the lava when Sam threw a questioning-worried look his way.

And then the lava curtain fell. And something wasn’t right.

Dream was huddled next to his chest, knees drawn up, back to them. His hair was a mess, moreso than usual, and his uniform was… unrecognizable as such. Tommy’s brows furrowed in confusion and worry, and he hurried across the lava, every step taking forever. Finally, he was over and the lava curtain descended behind him.

It didn’t seem like Dream had even noticed him. This close, Tommy could hear the heavy, laboured breathing, intermingled with gasps and- sobs? He took another step closer, the sound echoing off the walls, somehow, and Dream flinched and spun around so fast that he fell over. His mask was missing.

The sheer, unadulterated, uncontained terror that drowned out Dream’s eyes was enough to make Tommy stumble back.

“Dream?” he ventured, quietly, softly, disbelieving what he saw.

“T-Tommy?” Dream asked, his wild eyes gaining focus, seeing him for the first time. “Tommy.”

Dream was a mess. A wreck. Fresh cuts littered his face between not so fresh cuts; he was missing half his left ear; his nose was bruised and crooked and blood had dried underneath it; his fingers, reaching out to Tommy with the desperation of a dying man, were littered with wounds, abrasions, dried blood, a fingernail ripped out, a finger broken and healed wrong-

Everywhere he looked, he wanted to look away, only to find another horror in another spot.

“Tommy,” Dream repeated, with the reverence of someone seeing a god, salvation. “Are you really here?”

Tommy’s world was shattering around him. Dream had always been untouchable, undefeatable, unbreakable. It had taken the entire server to defeat him and lock him up. Never in his wildest dreams could Tommy have fathomed the idea of Dream being anything but the calculating, put together, unstoppable force of nature that he was. Even when he had pleaded with Tommy, when Tommy had had his life in his hands, it hadn’t felt true, hadn’t felt real. But this was real.

And why did the knowledge that Dream could be broken not bring him relief?

“T-Tommy?” Dream stuttered, voice hoarse and so small, that it jarred Tommy out of his head. “Am I imagining again…”

Tommy dropped to his knees, on the floor with Dream and held his hands in his own. Then he guided one of Dream’s trembling hands to cup Tommy’s cheek, leaning into it, putting weight on it. The only thing he could think to do.

“Hey, Dream,” he said, his own voice trembling.

Dream’s whole body shook at the sound of his name. His eyes slipped shut in blissful relief and a tear slipped out that Tommy brushed away with his thumb. “You’re real…” His heavy, laboured breathing started to slow down. Dream’s entire being seemed to relax and melt into Tommy’s touch.

But Tommy still had to ask the uncomfortable question, “What happened?”

Dream tensed up and his grip on Tommy’s hand tightened. His breath stuttered again. Tommy brushed soothing circles with his thumbs over Dream’s cheek, over his knuckles.

“No- No, no-”

“Shhh, it’s all right. I’m here,” Tommy soothed. “I’m here.”

And wasn’t this twisted?

Dream relaxed a bit again, but his shoulders still shook. “Mh-Mh.”

Tommy snaked the hand on Dream’s cheek around to the back of his head and pulled him closer, wincing at the feel of dried blood in Dream’s hair. He pulled Dream close so Dream could bury his head in the crook of Tommy’s neck.

“Who did this, Dream?” Tommy asked carefully. Dream shuddered and didn’t answer for a minute, struggling to form words.

When he finally could, he started shakily, “Sam...-”

Tommy’s fingers twitched, reflexively wanting to reach for a weapon. Child soldier through and through. He would grapple with the reason for his protective instincts flaring up around Dream of all people at another time.

“Sam hurt you?” he asked softly, despite the urge to yell and scream in outrage. Hadn’t Sam made it his mission to keep Dream in the prison, protected? Perhaps not in a sympathetic sort of way, but certainly in a ‘harming prisoners is against my core morality’ sort of way. Human rights, and such. What the fuck!

Dream shook his head. “He- he let- Qua-” his breathing picked up speed again. “Qu-”

Tommy couldn’t believe it. “Quackity?!”

Dream flinched and the most broken sound tore from his throat, raw and prey.

That reaction alone violently slaughtered any disbelief Tommy had about the matter.

“He- he came ev-every day. And he-”

His grip around Dream tightened. He didn’t need to ask what Quackity had done; it was plenty visible on Dream’s battered skin. He couldn’t imagine it- or rather he didn’t want to imagine it. Tommy hadn’t visited in three weeks. For the past three weeks, Dream had been tortured every day. 21 days of torture. From the looks of it, any major injury had been treated, in the loosest meaning of the word, by instant health potions, causing instant scarring – and meaning he hadn’t ‘needed’ rest between injuries. It was vile.

Dream melted into his embrace like ice in summer. His face rested against Tommy’s bare skin, his breathing slowing down again until Tommy thought he must have drifted off to sleep, but when he felt the all so familiar sensation of Dream’s lips on his skin, he knew that wasn’t the case.

“Dream?” he stuttered, “What are you-”

“I need this. Please, Tommy. I need- I need-” Dream pleaded between kisses, his hands roaming down Tommy’s torso, down to his hips. “Please- I promise," he sobbed, " Promise I’ll be good…”

Tommy’s brain short-circuited at that. He had enough sense to be shocked at Dream’s phrasing before all the blood from his brain rushed south. He swallowed hard, unsure of himself, unsure what to do.

“What- what do you want me to- to do?” he stammered, lightly pushing at Dream so they could look at each other. Tommy was almost overwhelmed by the sheer desperate need blurring together with yearning in Dream’s eyes. And all directed at him.

“Anything- please- touch me, fuck me- just-” Dream gasped, “I just need it to stop hurting for a-”

He didn’t even let him finish before he connected their lips in a sloppy, wet kiss. He tasted dried blood, felt the absence of a tooth in Dream’s mouth and felt a spark igniting inside that fed the beginning of a fucking inferno.

He was angry, borderline furious. What the fuck was Quackity’s fucking problem, messing with what was not his to fuck with?! How fucking dare he even so much as look at Dream– no less touch him– no less hurt him?! He had no fucking right!

He was bubbling, boiling over with fury that sprang forth like a vengeful river from a place inside that he dared not think about. A fury he could not direct against the one who caused it. So he had to settle for something else.

He removed his coat (courtesy of Tubbo and Ranboo for Snowchester’s climate), and laid it on the floor next to them, all the while not letting Dream’s mouth rest. Then he gently maneuvered Dream onto it and began to remove his tattered clothing, eliciting gasps and flinches with every brush of skin, but he knew most of those were in reaction to lingering pain. An image of Quackity’s wings, ripped off his back and bleeding came unbidden in his mind.

“Relax. I’ll take care of you,” Tommy promised softly after he removed the last torn piece that had stuck to Dream’s skin with blood. He gently made Dream lay on his back, kissed him deeply, then trailed soft kisses down his jaw, his throat, to his chest. He didn’t care about the blood (besides the anger that blazed inside him), his only goal was to make Dream feel good, make him forget what happened to him.

For the first time ever, Dream looked unsure of himself, but it warred with the blatant yearning in his eyes, the need for soft and gentle. Tommy was ready and eager to give him what he needed. His hands roamed over Dream’s body, careful to avoid the bruises and fresher cuts, settling on his hips. His every little touch was tender, feather-light, gentle. He suckled on Dream’s nipple, playing with it with his tongue, eliciting the sweetest little gasp from Dream, a trembling hand coming to rest on the back of Tommy’s head.

“Please,” Dream whispered. Tommy came back up and kissed him softly.

“I know,” he whispered against Dream’s lips, pressing their foreheads together briefly. “I know.”

Roles reversed, his turn to comfort, to be what the other needed. He was ready, eager, determined to be that. Whatever Dream needed, he would provide. He kissed him again and Dream moved with him, his eyes closing shut softly, shutting out the world for this moment. Tommy’s left hand trailed from Dream’s hip a bit lower, to the right, curled around his cock, which was half hard. Dream whined into the kiss and bucked his hips into Tommy’s hand, seeking friction, pleasure.

Tommy languidly moved his hand up and down, slow, gently, steady, while his right hand trailed up to Dream’s chest. He gently pinched the left nipple and rolled it between his fingers. Dream’s breath hitched at the dual stimulation, breathing picking up, skin flushing red in response.

There was something stuck in Tommy’s throat at the sight of Dream like this: pliant and needy under him, desperate in a way he understood too well. It was-

“Gorgeous,” he breathed against Dream’s lips, whose brows furrowed and cheeks flushed a deeper red at the compliment. Tommy’s eyes widened. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. That was supposed to stay an inside-thought. But now that he had said it, it broke the dam and he was spilling. “So pretty like this.”

He let go of Dream briefly to pull out the lube he’d smuggled in and pulled off his own pants (he hadn’t bothered with underwear), his own rock hard dick springing to attention. He poured a generous amount of lube onto Dream’s cock, whose breath hitched at the sensation. Tommy then tenderly took hold of Dream’s left hand and guided it to one side as he put their dicks together, making Dream hold one side while Tommy wrapped his hand around the other half. Tommy sighed at the feeling of his dick resting against Dream’s cock, surrounded by their hands, delicious pressure applied. He began rocking his hips, rubbing dick against Dream’s cock while Dream mewled and tried to copy the movement, albeit with less energy. Tommy moved his hand up and down and Dream was encouraged to do the same, doing his best to match the rhythm that Tommy set for them.

It was a lewd display, but Tommy loved the sight, the sounds, the feeling of this moment.

“So fucking pretty. Look at you,” he whispered and sped up the pace around Dream’s cock. It had Dream keening, squirming beneath him, eyes scrunched shut in concentration. Sweat collected on his brow and Tommy licked it off and trailed open mouthed kissed down to his throat, where he started sucking on a spot that made Dream make the sweetest little moan, like he was shy.

“Mhmm, and you sound so pretty, too,” he rasped. His fingers pinched Dream’s nipple a bit firmer, rolled it sweetly, enticing a gasp. A symphony to Tommy’s ears. “Such beautiful noises.”

“C-close-” Dream stuttered and cursed, “F-fuck!”

Tommy’s flexed his hand around their dicks, adding a delicious pulse to the already overwhelming stimulation. “Go ahead. Cum for me. Be good for me, yeah?” He moaned into Dream’s ear and rewarded the following shudder with a kiss. “Be good and cum for me, darling.”

Dream’s eyes shot open wide, his mouth forming an O and he moaned loudly as he came hard into Tommy’s hand, who worked him through the orgasm with deft movements, praising him every step of the way. Dream’s back arched and he grabbed onto Tommy’s back so tightly with his free hand, digging his nails into the fabric so viciously that Tommy was briefly concerned he’d rip it open. It was painful, but it was what tipped Tommy over the edge and ripped an orgasm out of him. His cum mixed together with Dream on their hands, stomachs, chests.

“Well done, so good for me,” Tommy purred breathily as Dream came down from his high and relaxed. He removed his their hands from their dicks and Dream’s nipple and opted for holding him in his arms. Then he settled down on Dream gently, putting his weight on Dream in a way he knew would be grounding, and he watched with purring satisfaction as Dream melted. His breathing was still heavy, but it was the good kind. His eyes closed again and his other arm slipped off of Tommy’s back to lay by his side, his other hand resting in the cum on his stomach. What a sight.

“Thank you,” Dream mumbled after some time, his voice broken. Tommy felt him start trembling. “Thank you-” A sob tore through his throat that shook his body and when Tommy looked up, tears were spilling from Dream’s closed eyes. “Thank you- thank you- thank you-” he babbled, gasping for breath between words.

Tommy gently cupped Dream’s cheek and brushed a tear away with his thumb, kissing the other cheek and nuzzling close. “Shhhh, you’re all right. I’m here. I’m here for you.”

And it was true.

“Don’t leave me,” Dream begged.

“I couldn’t.” And it was true. “I couldn’t. It’s awful. I need you, Dream. I need you. But you wanna know the worst part?”

Dream made a pathetic little, high-pitched noise in question. Tommy’s hold on him tightened instinctively.

“I need you… and the worst part is…” he pressed himself even closer, “I want you.”