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"Oh, come on now, Tommy. You know I only do this because I care about you," Dream lilted, tone soft despite the harsh nature of the words he spoke.
Tommy really didn't want to give up the tools and armor he'd worked so hard for the day before. He had even found diamond! His hands were still wrapped in dirty, torn bandages from his hands cracking and bleeding from how long he'd been mining with a splintered, dull pickaxe.
But, Dream was his friend. Dream wouldn't lie to him. Dream took care of him. Dream just wanted to protect him.
Tommy put his armor in the hole, his new, diamond pick and shovel following close behind.
"Can I at least keep a bit of my food?" He whimpered, voice smaller than he'd ever admit to. "I promise I worked for it. I stalked the chicken for hours." He kept his eyes trained on the ground, knowing Dream didn't like it when he made eye contact without prompting. Tommy wasn't worthy of that. He gripped his torn sleeves in his claws tightly, ears pressed flat against his head.
"Alright, Toms." Tommy hated that the nickname made him feel are warm and fuzzy inside. It made him feel childish. "But you can't eat anything tomorrow, okay? You can't even gather anything."
"Thank you, Dream," he gasped, eyes filling with gracious tears. Dream was so kind, really. He got to keep his food.
He was pulled forward, his face met with a plush, green hoodie. Arms were wrapped around him, one hand on his back, the other cradling the back of his head, gently scratching at his scalp. He purred, unable to help himself, reaching up and hooking his claws into the clean, lime fabric.
"You're a good boy, Toms. Thank you for asking and for not fighting back."
"You're my friend. I trust you," he mumbled, the words muffled by the cloth in front of his face, but he hoped the man heard them. He supposed he did, as the arms that held him squeezed him tighter.
He let himself sink into the embrace, closing his eyes and relaxing all the muscles he hadn't realized were tensed. Dream always made him feel so safe. (He ignored the parts of his mind that screamed at him, warning him that Dream was no man, but a creature of the darkest caliber- a Dreamon- set out to demolish everyone they could get their hands on.) Dream was taller than ever Wilbur and Technoblade, towering over him, but here, wrapped up in his hold with a clawed hand scratching so soothingly against his scalp, playing with his hair, he couldn't help but find comfort in it. The fact that he was covered head to toe in fabric, hiding the inky void of his form, was just one of the things that made Dream, Dream.
"You know what, little one?" Tommy chanced a look up, ignoring the way the nickname curled around his mind like a warm blanket in front of a fire. He was met with the same, smile face as always, but it seemed kind this time, instead of the usual menace it presented- the terror it tended to provoke.
"How about we spend the day together- just you and me?" Tommy tilted his head to the side, confusion evident in his features. They spent practically every day together, didn't they?
"I mean, no work today. Just you and me, hanging out like a family." Perhaps, if Tommy was in his right mind, he would have heard the honey that dripped off of his words, and the venom that hid behind them, but, he wasn't. He was so, horribly, desperately alone, and every emerging instinct he refused to acknowledge craved a pack more than anything.
"Really?" He was in disbelief. He didn't believe that he was worthy. Tommy deserved to be alone. That's why he was in exile, after all. He expected to be hit for questioning Dream's judgment, but instead, Dream just tugged him impossibly closer, tucking his head back into the green cloth that covered his abdomen.
"Of course, little one. You've been a good boy, and good boys deserve nice things."
"Thank you." He always made sure to thank Dream. (He had to.)
Suddenly, he was being scooped up, one hand still cradling the back of his head, but Dream's other arm was under his backside. He made a soft chitter of confusion, not realizing he had made such an animalistic noise.
"Families take care of each other. Let me take care of you, little one." Maybe Dream was laying it on thick with the nickname, to Tommy's still developing hybrid mind, it was a blanket of warmth and safety, and before his conscious mind even knew it, his subconscious had claimed the Dreamon as his protector- his guardian. (His pack.)
He wrapped his thin arms around Dream's neck, purring as he nuzzled his face there. The Dreamon just chuckled, continuing over to Logstedshire.
"So, what do you wanna do today?" Tommy paused, thinking about how he usually spent his day, but he couldn't come up with anything. He usually just... worked.
"I- I don't know. I'm so-sorry," he stuttered, tensing in preparation for the strike he knew was coming. Dream hated when he stuttered. He said it was undignified. However, the man just cooed, scratching ever so slightly in the spot where his fuzzy ear met his scalp, and Tommy melted.
He fell limp in Dream's arms, grip slackened and eyes shut. He paid no mind to the purrs and trills, and whines and chitters that escaped his lips, too focused on the wonderful sensation the action produced. It was as if the world around him had disappeared, narrowing down to only him and Dream.
"L've you," he mumbled, pressing his face impossibly closer to Dream's neck. The lack of scent bothered him, but not enough to throw him off. It was just another thing that made Dream, Dream, he supposed. (He ignored the hybrid part of his mind that still screamed danger. That screamed that only the most foul and vile creatures lacked a scent- one that was found on every other being: living, dead, or otherwise.)
"Of course, my darling," Dream rumbled, voice echoing far more than any man's ever should.
"How about we..." Dream started, immediately gaining Tommy's attention. "Play some board games? I have some stashed in my ender chest."
Tommy nodded, a smile on his face and a giggle falling past his lips. He, to be honest, wasn't really sure what a board game was, but it sounded fun! Anything with Dream was fun! (Arrows and swords, bruises and brutal slashes flew through his mind. Dream wasn't fun. Dream terrified him.)
The hand in his hair tightened, pulling on the blonde stands, bordering on painful. He held back his instinctual whimper, gazing warily at the mask that grinned down at him.
"Use your words, baby boy."
"Of course, Dream. I'm sorry, Dream," the practiced response rolled off of his tongue on command. "It sounds really fun!" He tried to put a little more excitement in his voice, knowing that while Dream appreciated how well Tommy conformed, he didn't like him sounding so robotic.
"Perfect boy," Dream purred, releasing his harsh grasp and returning his previous gentle scraping. Tommy purred back in response, his stormy eyes slipping closed as chitters escaped his throat once more.
He heard the door to Ghostbur's hut open, the hinges creaking noisily, having not been used often. Ghostbur didn't tend to use doors, and Tommy never really had the heart to approach Logstedshire on a regular basis. It wasn't long before he was being sat on the ground, Dream leaving him in favor of placing an ender chest down. He watched with lidded eyes as the Dreamon pulled a couple of boxes out of storage, setting them beside him before plucking the chest back up and storing it away in his inventory.
"Now, Toms," Dream began, turning to face him once more, a box in each hand. "What do you want to play first?"
Tommy looked between the two boxes. One was an eggshell white with the word 'Monopoly' written out in big, bold letters. The other was a maroon with lots of colorful squiggles, a bright 'Pictionary' typed out in thin but large font. He... he had no idea. He'd never played a board game before. Nether, he'd never even heard of them before now!
"I- I'm sorry. I- I don't- I've never," he stumbled over himself, the familiar sting of tears burning behind his eyes.
"That's alright. How about Monopoly. It's not too difficult, I promise." Tommy nodded, feeling horrible that Dream had to go even further out of his way to accommodate him.
"Thank you, Dream," he whispered, turning his gaze to the floor as he hung his head.
~
They had been playing for a little over an hour when, once again, Tommy had to fuck it up. He didn't mean for his stomach to growl, it's just that he didn't really have the time to eat yesterday because he was busy with stalking that one chicken, and then he hadn't eaten today because he was too busy having fun with Dream. (He ignored the way he could feel his ribs through his shirt, and the way his fame hugged his skeleton like tissue paper. It had been far longer than two days since he had last eaten.) He immediately tensed, dropping his gaze to the floor as he hunched his shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Dream. I'll be better," he gasped out automatically.
"Oh, none of that, now, Toms. It's okay. You can't help it." Dream snapped his fingers and the cooked chicken that Tommy had been allowed to keep appeared in his grasp.
"Here," the green clad man held the meat out in offering. "You've earned it, bubs."
Tommy stared wide eyed at the offered sustenance, a hand hesitantly outstretched towards to. He couldn't believe it. He hadn't done anything today to earn it- he hadn't even worked! But, he knew better than to go against Dream, so he took the chicken, making sure to take great care in case the Dreamon changed his mind.
"Thank you, Dream," the phrase fell out of his mouth with more reverence than intended, but he was still stuck in a state of utter disbelief.
"Go on, bud. It's alright," Dream encouraged further, words dripping with the same, acidic honey as always.
Hesitantly, he raised the meat to his mouth, the thought of ripping it into more manageable, bite size chunks never crossing his mind. Eventually, though, he knew he either ate, or pissed Dream off and lost the opportunity, so he bit down.
Immediately, he regretted it. He unclamped his jaw and dropped the chicken as white, hot agony shot through his gums. He whimpered in response, hands shooting up to cover his mouth, as if it would do anything to relieve the pain. He was mortified at the tears he could feel making their way down his cheeks, but the fire that still throbbed in his gums took precedent.
"Oh, what's the matter, little one?" Dream cooed, cupping his cheek softly, gently tilting his head up to face him.
"Hurts," he whined around the hands that still covered his mouth.
"Here, darling, let me see." Dream moved them away with his free hand, forcing his jaw open with the other. He prodded around with his clawed fingers, moving his lips out of the way occasionally and tilting his head side to side.
"I can't say for sure, but I think it's just another trait coming in," the Dreamon hummed, finally letting Tommy's face go.
Tommy stared, still wide eyed. What did he mean by 'trait?' Tommy was human. Humans don't have traits. (His claws dug into his palms from where he had his fists clenched far too tight, and his elongated, fluffy ears were pressed back into his skull. His legs still ached, their very bone structure changing to accommodate their new, digitigrade form.) He could feel a fresh wave of tears pour down his cheeks.
"But... human?" he tried, the words hardly intelligible from his badly his voice shook. Dream just sighed, pulling his back against his chest, cradling him close.
"Of course, Toms. Sweet Dreams."
A snap, and then his world went black.