Work Text:
logophile
(n.) a lover of words
The present was perfect, the atmosphere soft, and the timing was right on schedule.
Nightmare was in a good mood today, reading over the reports by the crackling fire you had started in the hopes of his notice and attention.
His favorite armchair was drawn up in front of the fireplace, the living room quiet with the absence of his subordinates.
Besides your upcoming entry.
You knocked on the wall to alert him of your presence.
"Ah, Y/N, is there something you need?" He asked, sparing you a glance. A grin threatened your lips, the attempt at staying serious going poorly.
"I was told today is a... special day;" he tensed and you hurried on "namely the fifth year anniversary of the team! Minus my presence," you joked. Nightmare relaxed. You rolled your eyes. "You'd really think I'd bring up that?"
"What is it." Nightmare huffed, cutting off your words.
"I got you a gift," you offered the thick present to him, the skeleton taking it with some hesitancy.
"How much do I trust you," he mused.
"Hopefully a bit," you teased, plopping down near his feet.
He sighed and began to delicately unwrap the present, the fragments of wrapping paper set neatly in a pile.
"It's a... book?"
"AH! Not just any book, a dictionary!" You cheered, grinning at Nightmare's puzzled face.
"A... dictionary."
"Well, you are somewhat of a logophile, so I thought I'd get you a book with thousands of words. You can find all of the words used in the English language in this book, some having history and an explanation for the word. It also has some antonyms and synonyms listed for a few of the big ones." Nightmare stared at the book.
And stayed like that for a while, till you began to fidget, uncertainty rooting in your soul.
"Do you... like it?"
A sudden hug enveloped you, hands clutching your back as he fell on top of you, holding you tight.
"Thank you, moonbeam," he whispered, his skull buried into your shoulder.
"Er, no, no problem b-boss," you stammered, patting his back in an effort to comfort him. He didn't let go, only squeezing tighter. "Nightmare, um, are you okay-"
"OoooooOooo, what do we have here?"
CRAP
"Killer! Good to see you," you squirmed underneath Nightmare, flushing as the prince of darkness made no effort to move. "I was just about to leave and tell Nightmare to come down for dinner later but I got a bit-"
"Preoccupied?" Killer teased, sauntering in to nudge your arm with his foot, casting a glance at the goopy skeleton wordlessly hugging you. "Maybe you broke him."
"I can still hear you," Nightmare finally relented his hold, leaning to gaze down at you with a look of... it disappeared before you knew it, changing back into the composed face that you were so used to, picking up the dictionary and tucking it under his arm as he nodded to Killer and you before dissolving, assumedly to his chambers.
"You got him a dictionary."
"Yeah..."
"That's so cheesy."
"Whatever, what did you get him?"
"You mean who did I get for him." You stared at Killer, racking your brain for who Killer could've possibly captured before Killer revealed a tube of ribbon.
"Wait NO-"
----
Nightmare paged through another section of the dictionary, staring down at the words dotting the page in crisp font, clean and orderly, when he heard a thump outside his chambers as if something was dumped on his (figurative) doorstep.
He opened his door to see you, struggling in tight teal ribbon, trying to bite the fabric apart as Killer and Dust ran laughing off into the distance.
Taped on your forehead was the word nyctophilia.
Nightmare grinned as he paged through his dictionary.
Nyctophilia.
The love of darkness or night; finding relaxation or comfort in the dark.
"It's a good thing I have a love for the one who adores the dark," he murmured, bending down to press a soft kiss against your lips.
You grumbled, as the skeleton picked you up, shaking his skull as he began to unwrap the best present he had ever received.