Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Really Dream should have seen this coming. From the moment he became fully entranced, or bewitched some may say, by the love of his life. The love of his life that lives in two worlds. One separate from his own. One Dream knows he’ll never fully understand no matter how desperately he wants to. One he can simply watch from far away even when he holds its source close in his arms feeling light puffs off air dance across his skin.

Even though he was not born from it the magical world has seeped into his skin. It’s a part of him. Present in his husband. And surprisingly, in his son. To say he never saw it coming is an understatement. Yet even so it’s shown itself right from the beginning.

Dream slips away from the current scene unfolding in his kitchen as memories wrap around his mind transporting him to the past.

Transporting him to the beginning of his world being completely intertwined with the other. The unknown.

Dream sits on the couch with a laptop on his lap longing to discard it, forgotten, and leap up yet holding back afraid to upset the scene in front of him. Something he’ll never forget.

George is sitting on the floor. Toys scattered all around him ranging from cars, stuffed teddy bears, to some barbies noticeably missing their heads. A regular occurrence in the household around playtime.

A couple feet away stands the center of attention. The reason the two parents have gone dead still. Their hearts beating in tandem as their gaze is laser focused.

Laser focused on their son who had been plopped down on the carpet in his usual fashion. Fumbling with a ball with little spikes in his small, yet strong, little hands. Truly neither of them are sure how they missed the beginning.

Yet there stands their one year old son. Blond curls shifting against his forehead as his small legs wobble struggling to hold his weight. His eyes hold a determined spark as he lifts his little chubby fists in the air seeming to steady himself. His feet pitter patter in place, lifting up and down. The fabric of his fox decorated onesie meeting the soft carpet below.

Dream can’t tear his gaze away but he knows George is doing the same. Tearing at his lip in anticipation with his arms hovering. Arms of hope to catch his little light.

Dream watches carefully as Tommy lifts his gaze from his feet to his Papa. To George.

Dream softens, a familiar warmth spreading through his chest, as Tommy’s eyes light up. An immediate smile forms on his face. Cheeks puffing out and button nose scrunching up as a peel of giggles escape his lips.

He starts clapping his hands growing more and more excited. Dream inhales abruptly. Fearful that the movement will result into Tommy losing his balance. Of course, the carpet will soften his fall not hurting the child in any way. Yet Dream knows his boy. He knows Tommy. And if any baby can first stand up to then wobble across the room it’s his son.

As if hearing his words Tommy remarkably moves himself forward. His right foot lifting from the ground for the very first time. It’s wobbly yet the child manages. His eyes are sparkling with adornment as giggles continue to escape him. His arms are reached forward.

For the first time Dream allows his eyes to dart away to his husband. It makes Dream want to scoop him up and hold him forever. Never letting George go. There’s nothing more ethereal in the world than George. No one more ethereal in Dream’s world.

George’s eyes shine with rapt attention. Face flushed as his arms are lifted in the air just like Tommy. Stretched ready to catch his baby and pull him close. Peppering kisses all over his face as Tommy squeals at the action. Prepared to lift him in the air as praises flow like a rapid river from his mouth. Stirring the deepest love present in his soul. A love solely reserved for Tommy and Dream. For his son and husband.

Dream’s quick to return his gaze to Tommy who’s

Dream places his laptop to the side. He more crumples than allows himself to kneel on the floor. Eager to be level with his family.

It’s as if Tommy found his groove. Like he’s been walking for eternity. The wobble is completely gone as if it were never there in the first place. His arms are reaching for George but they’re not flailing in the air. Not being used to steady himself.

If Dream wasn’t so caught up in pure amazement perhaps he’d pick up on it.

He can’t tell how long it truly takes. Possibly five seconds to a full minute but Tommy makes it. He stomps his little feet in a beeline to George. Feet moving swifter than they should at his age.

The moment Tommy is within reach George scoops him up lifting him from the ground. He pulls Tommy right against his chest in a firm hug. Tommy continues to happily clap his hands, blowing bubbles of excitement aware of his success.

He’s not the only aware of said success. George grins down at his child, quickly hauling him up so they’re face to face. George sitting with his legs crossed as Tommy stands on his knees, chubby hands gripping George’s shoulders.

George reaches forward gently brushing a stray curl from Tommy’s face revealing his bright blue eyes burrowing into George.

George’s grin grows tenfold along with the swirling warm adornment spreading from his chest to the tips of his fingers and toes.

Like Dream knew he would, he peppers little kisses all over Tommy’s face resulting in an ear piercing squeal emitting into the living room. It’s magical in Dream’s ears. Dancing and ringing like the bells of the fae.

George finally pulls away having mercy, the grin remains, pride strong as he addresses his child, “You did it baby! You did so good!”

Tommy gurgles in response, pleased. It’s one of the gurgles that the parents are familiar with translating. So far Tommy’s only said da-da and a noble attempt at Papa much to George’s dismay and Dream’s teasing. Yet ‘yes’ seems to be approaching.

George pulls his gaze away falling onto Dream. The call pulls at the center of Dream’s chest. Latching onto him firmly. Tugging. Not demandingly. More, encouraging.

Dream’s unsure if it’s due to the beautiful smile gracing his husband’s lips or a portion of his magic wrapped around his soul. Neither outcome changes Dream’s decision.

He essentially trips over himself on his way to his family. George ruthlessly laughs at his attempt. The noise causes Tommy to glance back at his Daddy. Dream fights a pout on his face from George and instead allows a fond smile to take over his features. Something that will always happen when his eyes find Tommy. Overwhelming fondness.

To Dream’s dismay Tommy also starts to laugh. To anyone else it may sound the exact kind as earlier but Dream can discern the difference. Discern the joy his son is taking in his suffering.

A small smirk twitches at the corner of his lips.

George twists Tommy in his arms the moment Dream is by their side. Tommy immediately goes to reach for Dream, who scoops him up with the most gentle caring hands in the universe. Holding his bundle of joy. Promising to protect him from all harm.

Dream pulls Tommy close and blows a raspberry on Tommy’s cheek. Tommy swats at him trying to escape the tyrant. The laughter shifting into a more innocent childish joy. Dream doesn’t know what he did to get so lucky.

Aware of the gaze Dream lifts his eyes to find his husband softly watching them. Love swirling around him. Manifesting spiritually and physically. George’s hair floats around his head slightly in a crown. If Dream where to describe it he’d pin the sight as angelic. An angel.

Dream is breathless, “I cannot believe he just did that.”

George’s smile shifts a bit as his eyes fall on Tommy. It sparks confusion in Dream. He tilts his head, eyes slightly narrowed as he inspects his husband.

George simply hums thoughtfully, “We’ll see if he can do it on his own next time.”

Dream doesn’t focus on the squirming body in his hands. He blinks roughly. Confusion deepening. He hates being lost. His voice is a little rough, “What?”

George’s fingers tap against the carpet in a repeated pattern. His hair is no longer floating around him in a halo. George most likely picking up on the slip of his magic.

George’s explanation is something Dream never could have imagined, “He was using magic.”

Dream audibly chokes. His world comes streaking to a halt. A black void opening up underneath him pulling him from reality. From reality. It’s not a bad reality per se but oh god.

Evidently Tommy has stopped squirming in his lap. Previously Dream would be intrigued by it. But now, now he has a sneaking suspicion Tommy’s able to pick up on the shifts of his mood.

It comes out as croak of disbelief, “So you’re saying he’s…”

George nods slowly, monitoring Dream to process the news, “He’s like me.”

George can’t help but let a small amount of his pride slip through. He’ll always love his child no matter what. Human or magic user. Yet he’ll admit this scenario never crossed his mind. Witches are far and few between. They make up less of the magic population with the majority being vampires and werewolves.

So this, this is astonishing. George can sense a seed of apprehension and anxiety coursing through Dream’s veins but he doesn’t share the sentiment. George comes from a powerful line of witches. Not something he’s ever been particularly focused on yet today has changed that. With Tommy showing such a strong connection to magic to call upon it at merely age one, he needs a strong magic user to guide him. To keep him safe from those around him and even himself. An untrained witch is dangerous territory for everyone involved.

George could not be more perfect.

He shifts over making his way to his family. He pulls one of Dream’s hands with his own. Guiding it close to his neck as he cradles them against his quickening pulse. A promise forms, “It’s going to be okay Dreamy. We’ll be okay.”

It takes a while, with several glances from a wide eyed Tommy to a supportive George, for him to nod his head in acceptance. Still his voice is small, “You’ll guide him right?”

A playful smile dances across George lips as he raises their interlocked hands. Giving the back of Dream’s hand a chaste kiss, “We both will.”

Of course it doesn’t stop from there. No, far from it. In…human’s the terrible twos reek terror on parents. Especially first time parents. So Dream gets entirely geared up. Having read article after article. Keeping Tommy close yet also giving him space. Allowing him to explore the nook and crannies in the house within reason. Allowing his small feet to tickle the grass. To tackle the world by storm while Dream hovers close by prepared for a meltdown.

Meanwhile George stands back with a grin on his face. Entirely unconcerned. The opposite of Dream’s panicked state. Dream’s envious by his ease but also somewhat judgemental. He doesn’t hide the sentiment. Instead of anger George meets him with murmured, ‘I’ll know when’, and ‘You worry too much’, and the icing on the cake, a fond elegant finger swiping under his eyes tracing under his freckles, ‘Honestly love, trust me hm?’

So Dream really would have appreciated the warning in advance. No, Tommy doesn’t display the normal signs. He’s grumpy during teething but he never meltsdown. Never screams at the top of his lungs and chucks his toys at a surprisingly dangerous speed. He doesn’t do more than fuss occasionally. Demanding to be held by Dream or George. He doesn’t snap at new people. Only appearing slightly wary. To Dream’s delight and George’s amusement Tommy accepts ‘Uncle’ Sapnap rather quickly. The two are startled by the behavior of their close friend. They didn’t think he possessed such maturity in his menace occasionally fur encased body. Werewolves are known for being temperamental.

All that goes on pleasantly. A beautiful tranquil blanket of calm. Of happiness. Of peace.

It had to shatter at some point. It does not come in wails. It does not come in screams. It does not come in the pounding of small chubby fists.

Nope. It comes in Dream craning his neck up at the ceiling, having come to rouse Tommy from his afternoon nap, as his child floats in the air.

Hands grasping the air as he laughs and gurgles with happiness. His curls float along his face just like George’s does at times. The rare moments when George’s control on his power slips a margin.

Dream gapes as his three year old performs near the equivalent of a flip. Rolling around in the air as his fingers brush the ceiling.

God he hopes it’s not dusty.

At that strange thought Dream’s head starts to buzz. He rubs his eyes so harshly when he opens them spots dance along his vision. It has to be an illusion. He’s not getting enough sleep clearly. This is all a misunderstanding. A trick of his brain. Surely his son is still curled up in his crib with a strong grip on his soft brown teddy bear.

Once his vision clears he’s met with the nightmare again. Dream groans as Tommy continues to float, unbothered.

Dream crosses his arms debating how to go about this. He clears his throat loudly, calling upon as much authority possible, “Tommy.”

He’s never said Tommy’s name more sternly. Because truly, he’s terrified.

He watches Tommy blink blearily. Eyes glancing around him not finding his Daddy in sight. Is he even aware he’s floating nine feet off the ground right now?

Dream swallows thickly debating dragging the chair from his office across the hall.

He tries again, voice a tad more gentle, “Down here Bubs.”

Luckily Tommy does flick his eyes to meet Dream. His blue innocent eyes widen in surprise. They’re quick to change to what Dream feels is a mixture of amusement and excitement. He makes grabby hands at Dream yet he doesn’t come any closer to the ground.

Dream gulps nervously. He’s spoken to George about this. George is unsure about how strong of a magic user Tommy is. It’s hard to tell at such a young age yet George has the sneaking suspicion Tommy’s on the stronger end after the first steps stunt.

Dream tears at his bottom lip as he reaches his arms out to aline with Tommy’s grabby hands, “Come on down Bud.”

Tommy beams, “Daddy!”

Dream hums lowly, “Mhm, that’s me.”

Dream watches closely, growing anxious as Tommy continues to make grabby hands at Dream. Gradually his face begins to scrunch up in irritation. He starts to kick his legs in frustration.

Dream saw him rolling around earlier. Maybe Tommy struggles with his magic when not running on instinct?

Things quickly go downhill. Dream’s heart drops as he recognizes the signs. The signs pointing towards what Dream has been preparing for ever since Tommy turned two.

Tears grow in Tommy’s eyes. Filling along his lash line threatening to spill. His lip wobbles barely holding back sobs.

Dream makes a lightning quick decision. He knows he’s downstairs. Dream shouts loudly with urgency, “George!”

He also focuses on projecting his panic and urgency through his body and mind. He knows George can sense it…for some reason…

Not to his surprise George comes skidding into the room stricken with panic on his beautiful features. Dream doesn’t even know if it’s possible but he wonders if George accelerated his pace.

George doesn’t even glance at Dream. His eyes land on the source of sniffles emitting from the ceiling. So many emotions flicker in his eyes Dream doesn’t have the moment to pinpoint them.

The final showing a strong determination. To Dream’s confusion George does not reach his arms out to get Tommy. Instead he calls gently to his son, “Tommy.”

Tommy blinks his eyes causing some tears to escape as he finds his Papa. The wobble lessens a tad.

It’s something Dream knows he has to work out. Something he knows he needs to talk to George about. The growing insecurity.

George and Tommy are both magic users. Both witches. They’re connected in a way Dream can never be as a human. An invisible connection dances between the two. Transferring emotions and words without lifting a finger or uttering a word. An unspoken understanding. The deep connection of souls intertwined. Parent and child.

Dream studies when Tommy ceases his flailing hands and wreckless kicks. His eyes gain a clarity, a sharpness.

Gosh he’s only three.

George nods calmingly. His words are soft, encouraging, “You can do it.”

Tommy’s face scrunches up not from irritation but from extreme concentration. Small huffs escape his lips as his eyes are tightly closed.

At first nothing happens. The child continues to float aimlessly above them.

And then there’s a shift. The crease between Tommy’s eyebrows and twist of his lips lessens. He descends. What Dream would estimate half a foot at a time.

Instantly Dream rushes forward, arms extended ready to catch his son. Unexpectedly and to Dream’s displeasure he feels a strong arm pushing his arms down, away from Tommy.

Dream shoots a glare at George. What is he thinking?

George shakes his head. It’s but a whisper, “Trust me.”

Dream watches him closely. He searches every corner of George’s soul. Of course he trusts George. He’ll always trust George. But come on, he has the right to say this is bizarre.

Dream bites back an argument choosing to continue to place his trust in George.

George shoots him a warm appreciative smile. If Dream were to guess he’d say if he could sense it he’d feel a warmth wrapping around him. Tickling his skin and ruffling his hair. For a moment Dream senses the touch, the sensation. He shakes his head at the notion shoving it to the back of his head.

He’s in utter shock when he redirects his gaze to Tommy. Tommy who no longer has his eyes closed. Tommy who’s managed to twist his body into a sitting position. Watching as Tommy manages to softly place himself on the soft safe floor of his bedroom.

George glows with pride. Tommy’s aura sings with happiness. This time when Tommy makes grabby hands George extends his own to pick up his baby. He holds Tommy close as he snuggles their faces together. He shoots Dream a knowingly look, “See? It’ll be alright.”

Dream swallows back his anxiety opting for a grin, “As long as I trust you right?”

George’s eyes dance with amusement, “Of course dummy.”

It happens again and again as Tommy grows. George tries his best to assist. Dream does as well to the best of his capabilities.

Tommy is young. A mere child. A powerful child. Children are emotional beings. They struggle to make sense of their feelings and even more to harness them no matter how mature they may be.

This is normal, and would be less of a problem. Less of a problem if said emotions were not intertwined with the magic of a strong developing witch.

George handles it well. He directs a simple gaze accompanied with silent words as Tommy’s feet float from the ground from his bursting excitement.

He helps center Tommy. Grabbing his hands when things go wrong. When he’s upset or angry. Typically more upset than angry. He murmurs soft words as he pulls Tommy to his side. Decreasing the shaking of the utensils on the plates and the flickering lights overhead.

It eases a calm in Dream. Eases the bit of him he can’t quite squash. The panic and terror. He’s relieved he has George. That Tommy has George. Someone that’s like him. Someone that can help him. That can guide him. Someone who understands.

Dream’s not chopped liver. Yes he may not be able to encase Tommy in a signature magic. May not be able to soothe him from an invisible bond.

He’s still able to be a Father. A good one at that. He wipes away Tommy’s tears. He places bandaids over scrapes and cuts. He ruffles curls and fondly guides Tommy through the steps of baking cookies. He helps him with math homework as Tommy’s lips curl up into a scowl as his pencil tears through the paper.

Dream’s a good dad and he knows it. Even so, to him it’s not the same. He’s able to help Tommy when catching it early. Able to soothe the majority of his wounds. However when the cupboards start to shake. When the lights start to flicker. And when the pictures along the walls start to tilt.

It’s beyond his control. Only George can calm him down from that. A human can’t break through Tommy in such deep turmoil. All words drift over his head, unheard. Only a brushing of warmth, a brushing of comfort, the brush of magic, can soothe his little one. Bring Tommy back to reality. Connect the two realms he coexists in.

Balanced and stable. Recentered. Secured and safe.

So when Dream finally comes back to the present. To the event unfolding in his kitchen, he feels inadequate. It’s been a while since Tommy’s gotten like this. Perhaps by fate each and every time it’s occurred George is by his side.

Today has shattered that bliss. Dream knew the moment he picked up his five year old from kindergarten that things were bound to go horribly wrong. He held Tommy’s hand as they walked to the car. Knowing not to push until Tommy takes the first step.

As Dream gripped the steering wheel and glanced at Tommy through the rearview mirror he was tempted to call his husband. His husband who was, and continues to be, currently at work.

Not wanting to bother George as nothing had gone out of control yet he brushed it aside. Refraining.

He wrongfully assumed he’d be able to handle it. After all, as long as Dream catches it early he can prevent the escalation.

Yet it happened so quickly in a way it never has before.

Dream stares at Tommy. Tommy who had chucked his backpack in the corner. Tommy who had stomped into the kitchen knowing he should pull out his homework but refusing.

Tommy who has his fists curled tightly by his side, trembling. Actually, his whole body is trembling. His hair is already floating around him. More in a whipping sensation mirroring his mood.

Dream bites at his lip unsure. Unsure whether to step in. Unsure to place his hands on Tommy’s shoulder to pull him back.

Tommy’s eyes scrunch as he stomps his foot on the ground shaking the floor by the force.

Dream swallows thickly. At least the lights aren’t flickering.

Okay, alright…alright.

If he’s being truthful, he always looks to George to calm down Tommy during these. The first time he tried to reach Tommy and failed it twisted a knife deep in Dream’s gut. Agonizing pain shooting through his system. Confirming his worst fears. That he’ll never be good enough. Never be able to fully help his son. To truly protect him.

So Dream backed up. He let George take over. Practically pleaded for George to handle it. He’s unsure if George has picked up on it or not but they haven’t addressed it so far.

But George isn’t here. And there’s no way George can get here in time.

George cannot help him. George cannot help Tommy.

And as Dream’s eyes continue to hold Tommy in place with a deep ache in his heart, he knows. He knows it’s time to stop being selfish. It’s time to face his fears. For his son. For George. For his family.

The vase sitting on the side table shattering into shards spurs Dream forward.

He calls for Tommy, strong and a tad desperate, “Tommy, I need you to calm down.”

The shards on the ground start to shake. Dream picks up on the noise of the cupboards opening and closing shut. He didn’t get through.

Dream takes a deep deep breath.

He forces himself to walk forward. Forces himself to get on his knees to be face to face with his son. Forces himself to reach a shaky hand forward to cup Tommy’s cheek. Thumb brushing along the soft skin.

Dream reaches forward in the way he does with George. In the way he calls George. In the way that emits fond smiles from George’s perfect
lips and the fond twinkles in swirling brown eyes.

He continues to stroke Tommy’s cheek in soothing motions. For once he doesn’t close his eyes. Dream calls upon his mind, his heart, and most importantly, his soul.

They swirl and pulse between each other. Connecting effortlessly.

He holds onto it. Clutching it firmly in his grasp. Twisting it to his needs. To the truth.

Dream pushes away his panic. Pushes away his terrors, fears, and insecurities.

He pulls forward the stronger emotions. The strongest emotions. The intense waves of love covering every inch possible. The soothing calm that reaches forward gently. To pull a mind against his own. A cooling sensation.

A sensation he attempts to transfer to Tommy. Dream leans forward placing his forehead against Tommy’s, allowing his eyes to close, in hopes to redouble his efforts.

He continues with everything he has. Everything he is. Projecting his love into the world blindly. Hoping desperately that his son will latch onto it even if Dream’s unable to spiritually tell.

Suddenly it hits him. The noises of the cupboards have ceased. The lights never begin to flicker. Dream places his hands carefully against Tommy’s back in a hug. Rubbing Tommy’s back up and down. Just like he always has for his little one.

He feels as the trembles damper down in his hands. Reluctantly he pulls his head away from Tommy’s, opening his eyes. With a gentle motion he brushes the pad of his thumb under Tommy’s eyes to brush away the lingering tears.

Even though Dream doesn’t understand magic, he understands Tommy.

Tommy’s eyes flutter open. Gaze locked intensely on his Dad’s.

For once no nervous energy dances in Dream’s nerves.

He smiles gently, continuing to brush away the tears.

Tommy continues to stare at him unmoving. By his sides his fists clench and unclench repeatedly. A small frown paints his face. Exhaustion drips off his small form. Exerting such levels of power is tiring.

Tommy sniffles loudly, wiping at his nose with his sleeve.

Dream refrains from grimacing. Instead he smiles as he lifts his free hand and boops Tommy on the tip of the nose.

Tommy follows the movement going cross eyed. Upon realizing that and seeing his Daddy’s smirk his lips twitch a bit. Not a smile however neither a frown.

Dream takes hope in it. He cannot believe he’s gotten to this level. Cannot believe he managed to get the house to stop shaking. Cannot believe to have stopped Tommy’s trembling. Cannot believe he’s staring into his son’s wide innocent eyes with a floating calm lingering between them.

Tommy sniffles again, his gaze darts to the side making Dream frown. He follows and ah

He’s staring at the shards of the vase scattered on the ground. Broken in the chaos. Well, at least it wasn’t George’s favorite.

Tommy sniffles louder rubbing at his eyes roughly. His voice is scratchy and strained, “Mm sorry Daddy.”

It’s filled with such genuine guilt and sorrow it makes Dream want to clutch Tommy tightly against him and to never let go. To shield him from all hardship.

So he does. Albeit gently.

He tugs Tommy towards him. Tommy goes willingly.

He hooks his arms around his Dad’s neck and shoves his face into the crook hiding safely away. A soft smile graces Dream’s face. Ecstatic to finally help his light.

Tommy mumbles against his skin, “I didn’t mean to.”

Dream rubs his back in circles considering the admission, “I know honey. We just have to try our best.”

Not just Tommy. Both of them.

Tommy makes a small noise. Twisting a bit unsure. Discomfort seeps into his small voice, “Are you mad at me?”

Dream barely refrains from flinching. He slowly extracts himself from Tommy wanting to look his child in the eyes. Tommy squirms a bit in place, Dream smiles, “No Tommy. You’re learning and the world can be scary. The world can be upsetting.”

Tommy nods in agreement. Dream knows eventually they’ll have to get down to the root on what prompted Tommy’s freak out but the calming is more important at the moment.

“It’s okay to be upset. We just have to try to not let it get the better of us.”

Tommy squints his eyes processing Dream’s words with great effort. A small smirk places at Dream’s lips, “Especially powerful gremlins like you.”

Tommy glares at Dream half heartedly, he crosses his arms, “I’m not a gremlin.”

Dream hums lifting a hand in apology, “Ah I’m sorry little witch.”

Tommy softens a bit at that. Still he nods sharply at the amendment, “Like Papa.”

No jealously is present. Only pride.

Dream fights back tears of his own, “Just like Papa.”

Tommy tilts his head to the side studying Dream.

Dream brushes a curl away from Tommy’s forehead. He’s said it a million times in his lifetime and will continue into the billions. For it holds great truth.

An all consuming warmth swirls in Dream’s chest. Kindling passion, yet a layer of calm. Soothing and nurturing.

Dream smiles like the sun, “I love you Tommy.”

It elicits an immediate reaction making Dream’s heart ache, in a good way this time. Tommy’s hair floats around him in a halo. Truly appearing angelic with the blond locks.

His angelic little gremlin.

Tommy struggles to keep his feet on the ground remembering his Daddy’s recent words and his Papa’s past repeated. He shines as bright as a thousand stars. Within milliseconds he crashes into Dream nearly making the poor man topple over from the force.

Tommy snuggles against Dream soaking up the love provided, “I love you too Daddy.”

The words wash over Dream. He’s known. He’s always known Tommy loves him. He’s never had to earn it.

Though he cherishes this moment. The moment he fully is able to help his son. Cause now Dream can show his love even deeper. Finally connecting to Tommy’s soul.

They stay like that for a long time. Time, a concept unknown. A concept irrelevant. It’s just Dream and Tommy existing in their personal little bubble.

The sound of the front door jostling draws Dream’s attention.

He barely moves, mindful to not shift Tommy.

George walks into the room. He freezes as he nearly steps on the broken shards of the vase. He lifts an eyebrow quizzically at the mess. Dream can hear his thoughts from here,

‘What did I just walk in on?’

George looks away from the shards meeting Dream’s gaze. His eyes flit searching where Tommy is somewhat shielded in Dream’s arms.

Dream watches him closely recognizing that look in George’s eyes. Recognizing when he reaches out to poke and proud sensing the aire. The emotions.

Dream feels Tommy stir lightly most likely feeling his Papa’s magic tingling his mind.

Dream’s eyes widen a bit noticing how slack Tommy has gone against him. Drifted asleep in his Daddy’s arms.

Dream nuzzles his head against Tommy’s curls gently. He gazes upon George who flicks his hands in the direction of the shards, lifting them into the air and depositing them meticulously in the trash can.

George softens his footsteps walking to his family. His eyes stay on Dream’s as he settles next to them on the floor. George reaches forward to brush Tommy’s hair gently, the ends
floating playfully.

Dream hums lazily.

George removes his hand to brush it through Dream’s hair. Softly ruffling it. His eyes shine with love and amazement. With pride and longing.

Dream’s breath catches at the sight. God he loves George. If he didn’t have their child in his arms he’d pull George flush against him.

George continues his ministration humming lowly in a soothing sense. His voice is as soft as when he whispers calming words to Tommy, “You did good Dreamy.”

He leans forward placing a gently kiss on Dream’s lips. Dream allows himself to savor the soft lips enjoying their warmth. The zap of passion that flows between them.

Eventually they separate. George cups the side of Dream’s face as he leans into it. Dream savors George’s touch as he pulls his gaze down to find his little light.

He raises his hand to softly comb through the soft curls, “I know.”

He does. He truly does. Even being the singular human in a household of witches there’s no more perfect place to be.

George’s eyes and soul burrow into Dream’s as their eyes meet. Somehow Dream can feel it. He can feel George’s warmth buzzing against his skin.

George’s happiness that Dream has found his place in their family. His place that always existed and always will. Now aware, no longer doubting, and never leaving their side.

Chapter Text

Tommy groans loudly as he looks to the jar sitting on a stool in the middle of his room. The cricket inside hops around unbothered and Tommy continuously fails at aiming his casting properly enough to hit it.

Tommy can feel the blood rising to his face as his anger tingles his magic and his hold on his wand tightens. This is his least favorite kind of homework!

Ever since Tommy was three George enrolled him in a witch program that meets on the weekends. It teaches young witches basic practices to ensure their magic remains controlled. Tommy never really understood why he had to go if he has his Papa to teach him but his Papa works full time and said he had to go when he was little too.

So Tommy goes.

And ever since he turned seven they’ve had an obsession about wand spells which is stupid to Tommy cause his Papa doesn’t even use a wand to use magic! Wands are for babies! For babies that can’t control their magic and need help honing it in. Tommy doesn’t need any help with that!

When he expressed his grievances to George in the past his Papa simply stated that a wand is good practice for control and that he knows plenty of adult witches that still use them on occasion when weaving particularly tricky spells.

Tommy finds that hard to believe. He glares down at the wand where his fingers are clenched so hard around the offending object his knuckles have gone a stark white.

He stomps his foot immaturely as a pout grows on his face. It’s a stupid assignment anyways. Why would he ever need to turn something into a frog? Plus transformation spells on humans are illegal so what’s the point in teaching them at all! Tommy’s eyes do brighten at the idea of turning one of his classmates into a frog. Not that he’d actually do it but the thought is entertaining…

Tommy’s door creaks open slowly making Tommy startle out of his affronted posture, shoulders easing and grip relaxing minimally.

His Daddy peaks in with a questioning look, surveys the room briefly and looks between the wand in Tommy’s hand and the jar containing the cricket in the middle of the room.

Tommy tries to hold his surprise at Dream’s appearance. Unlike his Papa, Dream can’t sense his emotions through the magic field.

Gradually as if afraid of tripping a waiting trap Dream fully opens the door. He tries not to get too involved with Tommy’s witch homework but when he heard the sound of a familiar irritated little stomp coming from upstairs he felt it was best to step in. Preventing Tommy’s meltdowns is key to saving the quality of their house. Dream prefers not to relieve having to replace circuit boards and cracked cabinet drawers.

So he places a pleasant smile on as he takes one step into his son’s room, “Everything okay Tommy?”

Tommy makes a huffing noise and scrapes his foot against the carpet. He twirls his wand irritably and as he mumbles with perturbance, “Stupid cricket won’t stay still.”

Dream looks hesitantly the the decent size cricket that is resting unbothered in the jar. He hums lowly as an idea forms. Maybe he can be of some assistance. Surely it’s nothing too dangerous or it wouldn’t be assigned to a seven year old.

Dream walks over to the jar and peers down, “What if hold it for you?”

Tommy bites at his lip contemplatively at his Daddy’s suggestion. Maybe the cricket would be distracted by the looming human holding it instead of the surge of magic heading straight for it.

A small voice that sounds a lot like his Papa mutters in the back of his head how this is an extremely idiotic idea only someone like his Daddy could conjure.

Tommy looks to Dream’s hopeful face and instantly crumbles. He returns a tentative smile, “Okay Daddy.”

So Dream tilts the jar down and scoops the cricket out. Surprisingly the thing doesn’t move, going completely stationary in Dream’s palm.

Dream stands several feet before Tommy with his arms extended showing off the cricket now unmoving.

Tommy flexes his grip on his wand. He pulls at the well of magic inside him along with the magic that swirls around him and begins to mutter the same spell he’s been practicing for the past hour or so. The end of his wand twinkles as he positions it to the cricket in Dream’s hands.

The moment he utters the last word of the incantation a beam of light, his concentrated magic, shoots from his wand making him jolt his wrist a tad.

And instead of hitting the cricket which is sitting oh so pleasantly still in Dream’s hand it hits Dream. Square in the chest.

Tommy’s mouth drops open in horror as his Daddy’s eyes widen and his body begins to shimmer. The cricket hops out of Dream’s palm the moment the man ceases to tower over Tommy.

Tommy shrieks in alarm as the cricket hops onto his carpet and his Dad shimmering for disappears.

He stares at the place where his Daddy used to be as anguish fills his soul. He swallows thickly feeling his throat go desert dry as he direct his wide blue eyes to direct lower and lower and lower until he’s met with the reality that he is an excellent witch.

He nailed the spell.

A green frog the size of both of Tommy’s palms rests on the carpet. Tommy can tell it’s his Daddy for the presence feels the same. Void of magic but familial and now…a frog

Tommy thinks it’s good as any time to use the word he’s heard his Papa use on occasion, “Fuck!”

An admonishing ribbit sounds in the room making Tommy whine.

His hand shakes around his wand as he stares down at the frog that honestly looks like it, no he- gosh!

The frog just scolded him!

Tommy’s hand continues to shake as he lifts his wand. He recalls the reversal of the spell. All he has to do is say it backwards and his Daddy will be back to normal and Papa will never have to know and everything will be just fine please and thank you.

Tommy’s in the middle of the spell reversal when frog Dream moves screwing it all up. Tommy mutters a curse more quietly this time. He just knows he’s using it right.

He squeaks loudly and tugs at his hair that has begun to float in a nervous habit as he watches his Daddy hop forward and and and eats his cricket!

Tears come to his eyes, “No Daddy no!”

Tommy sniffles. He’d been mad at the cricket for not staying still but that didn’t mean he wanted it to die! Plus that means he’s failed his assignment! They’re supposed to bring the crickets transformed into frogs tomorrow morning! He might lose his rank in class as number one!

Tommy whacks the air with his wand in the direction of Dream reprimandingly, “Bad Daddy!”

To his credit the frog lets out a guilty apologetic croak. Tommy tries not to think too hard on how he can tell it’s apologetic. After all, that frog is actually a human. His and Papa’s human!

Tommy’s eyes widen to the size of planets. Not only has he failed his assignment but he broke the law! He used a transformation spell on a human!

Tommy’s eyes dart around the room waiting for the supernatural police to open a portal and to take him away. Papa will be sure to ground him forever if he goes to jail!

Tommy looks to the frog, Dream, despairingly. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and starts the reversal spell once again internally pleadingly for his Daddy not to move this time around.

But his emotions are so tense his magic refuses to focus down to the focal point of the wand. It makes his frustrations rise. He shuts his eyes tighter and forces his magic through the vessel of the wand. But, but it’s too much.

A loud cracking sound fills the room. Tommy instantly stops weaving the spell, the magic around it dissipates into nothingness. He stares down in a whole new world of horror at the sight of his broken wand.

A deep frown paints his face as his lip juts out. This is his second one! Miss Raquel might not let him get another one! Will he get kicked out of school? Oh no oh no.

The image of the home phone landline resting in the kitchen enters Tommy’s mind. He, he swallows thickly tongue gone heavy, he could call his Papa for help. But he can’t remember if this type of spell is the kind that can only be undone by the caster…

Tears fill Tommy’s vision. He drops to his knees and discards the now useless broken wand. Instantly the frog hops into his outstretched hands. Tommy lifts the frog, his Daddy, up to his face and sniffles loudly. The frog doesn’t seem to mind as his tears hit its skin.

Tommy pulls the frog close and the small amphibian nestles itself against his cheek rubbing soothingly. Tommy holds it with both hands as his hair floats around his face and tears stream down in a torrent.

He gathers the whirlwind of magic around him and pleads and pleads and pleads for his Daddy back. He doesn’t want his Daddy to be stuck like this! Who will help him bake cookies? Who will help him with his stupid math homework? Who will blow bubbles with him?

And, Tommy sobs loudly as his magic buzzes, he doesn’t want to go to jail! What if his Daddy is forever a frog and he never gets to see Papa again!

The thought of never again feeling his Papa’s powerful, comforting, loving magical presence has himself pouring his heart, soul, and magic into wanting his Daddy back to his normal self.

And then suddenly there’s the familiar patting down of his floating hair. There’s an arm slung around his back.

Tommy blinks once, twice. He blinks past the tears until he can make out what’s before him. No longer is a green slimy complexion before him but his Daddy’s face! Warm green eyes gaze upon Tommy lovingly. Dream wipes away at Tommy’s tears with the pad of his thumb, “There there love, I’m right here.”

Tommy laughs wetly in astonishment choking down his lingering sobs. He exclaims completely startled but immensely relieved, “You’re not a frog anymore!”

Dream narrows his eyes as he licks his lips. He speaks slowly, “It appears…I am not…”

He sounds unsure.

Tommy pouts at him, “You ate my cricket.”

Dream winces as he refrains from licking the inside of his mouth now realizing what that strange taste was, “Ah, I’m sorry bubs.”

Tommy sighs quietly and slumps into Dream’s hold, “‘S okay. You didn’t ask to be a froggy.”

Dream continues to soothe Tommy rubbing at his hair gently. He cannot say he wants to relive whatever happened the past five minutes.

“I feel perfectly fine.”

Tommy looks up at him with wide caring eyes, pleading, “You’re sure?”

Dream smiles as he pulls Tommy in for a hug noting how his blond curls have stopped floating, “I’m sure.”

Tommy mumbles in confusion, “But I didn’t do the reversal spell…” he trails off.

Dream hums as he rubs the back of Tommy’s back. He shrugs as he recalls the sudden powerful warmth that washed over him before he returned to himself, “Maybe it was the power of your love.“

Tommy giggles against Dream’s neck as he snuggles into his Dad for comfort, “That’s so silly Daddy.”

Dream smiles softly, “Maybe.”

All that matters is he is no longer a cricket consuming frog hopping around the ground of his son’s bedroom and is instead able to once again hold his son comfortingly in his arms.

Tommy whispers against Dream’s skin, “We gotta tell Papa, right?”

Dream sighs at the thought as he mutters out a non-hesitant, “Yes.”

Dream knows he’ll never hear the end of it. He settles with the idea of being called an idiot and possible addition of frog boy as he hoists Tommy in his arms and makes his way downstairs to grab his cellphone and to call the love of his life.