Chapter Text
“Shit!” Tommy stumbles past Dream again and blinks dark spots from his vision.
“Language,” Dream scolds. He waits for Tommy to right himself with a scathing look.
Tommy manages to regain his balance after too long and gives Dream an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired.” He’s exhausted, really, after the far patrol with George last night and nearly an hour of training today. This exercise, where he tries to catch Dream with a suppressor cuff, is always hard, but right now he can barely keep his feet under him.
“I don’t care, Tommy. If you can’t work through being tired, you’ll never make it anywhere. Go again.”
Tommy takes a bracing breath and jumps forward again. The cuff swings in his hand as he does, just barely missing Dream’s wrist. Dream feints left, steps to the right, and Tommy again barely misses. Tommy dances back a step to take in the situation, and somehow his spinning mind catches a hitch to Dream’s breath, the way his stance drops for just a second. He’s tired too.
Tommy knows as soon as he starts moving that this is the time he’ll finally get it.
His vision flutters and blurs, and when he blinks he’s hitting the ground a few paces past Dream.
“Really, Tommy, you’re supposed to be able to focus through that by now,” Dream says, sounding genuinely disappointed.
“I know,” Tommy responds miserably. It’s the oldest trick in Dream’s book: messing with the wiring of someone’s senses. He’s heard plenty about how it works, even practiced doing it himself while borrowing Dream’s power. The finesse is in dismantling the person’s thoughts and inserting yourself at the same time, something Tommy can never quite pull off. Knowing all this doesn’t make it any easier to push through.
“Hey,” Dream says, kneeling next to Tommy and laying a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re really fucking this up today, aren’t you?” Dream sounds softer than he usually does during training sessions, and Tommy soaks up the affection. “What’s going on?”
Tommy hesitates. “I… I’m tired, sorry. Maybe—”
“You can’t take the cuff off,” Dream interrupts. The thought fades in a burst of static in Tommy’s head and he winces. “We’ve been over this a million times.”
Tommy twists the suppressor cuff on his wrist without meeting Dream’s eyes. He knows it’s part of the exercise— if Tommy could use his power, he’d be able to borrow Dream’s, and that’d make it too easy to defend himself. “I know, I just thought—”
“Thought what?”
“...Nothing.”
“Good.”
Tommy takes a deep breath and scrubs the heels of his hands over his eyes. “Okay, go again.” He knows Dream won’t let him go home and sleep until he’s proven himself, so he sets his jaw and stands.
“No.”
Tommy freezes. “Wait, why not?”
“You’re obviously not going to get it right today,” Dream sighs. “I thought you were ready. It’s fine. We don’t have to do this.” He stands and seems to tower over Tommy. “What’s our other tool for practice?”
Tommy tries to press down the swell of dread before Dream can read it. “Mental rehearsal.”
“Right! Good job.” Dream gives him a predatory smile. “So you’re gonna think about what you did wrong today in here for a while. Come back to the apartment whenever you’re ready.”
Tommy knows Dream means when you’re able. He doesn’t have time to protest or beg before Dream’s power mentally sweeps his feet out from under him. Memory hits like a wave, a flashback, until his only awareness is the replay of his last attempt to catch Dream.
Tommy would grit his teeth if he could. As it is, all he can do is watch.