Chapter Text
Branch was no stranger to nightmares. Nightmares were semi-regular ever since Grandma got eaten. The nightmares were a weird blend of his brothers walking out on him and Grandma getting taken by the Bergens. Things like a bergen snatching up a brother right as they left the pod. Or Grandma just walking out on him just like his brothers did.
Sometimes the bergen would snatch him up, too.
Now, waking up screaming or whining or otherwise loud made his panic waking up worse. A bergen could hear, and then snatch him up. Branch needed to be quiet, because that’s what would keep him alive. So Branch taught himself to be quiet when he woke up. He’d startle awake, and immediately press a hand over his mouth and curl up tight.
The bunker made things easier, because sleeping deep in the bunker was a safe place to be. Bergens wouldn’t reach down here. Their hands were too big for the entrance, and the way down the elevator shaft was too long for their arms. He was safe, but nightmares would still come most nights. Branch could manage them.
And then Branch was an adult, and he still had nightmares. Now added to the mix, to the ways something could go wrong, was Bergens attacking during a party or concert. One of the many parties thrown in the village finally attracts a bergen to snatch people up. Sometimes, for reasons that only make sense in dreams, his brothers or his grandma would be there, at one of those parties. Sometimes, it would be a Brozone concert, and Branch would have to watch any one of his brothers get snatched up.
Sometimes, it would be Poppy that got taken.
Princess Poppy, the only troll left who’d still try to check in on him. The troll who still invited him to every single one of her parties, no matter how much he rejected them and never came. Branch tried to keep his distance from her. Because if he was having nightmares like this just from her being nice, what would happen if he actually got close to her? But he kept every invite, because they were a small, stupid comfort.
But he still got close enough to follow her to save those dumb friends of hers. Well, no, that wasn’t fair. All of them but Creek were alright. Creek was a total ass. How could no one else see that? What did Poppy see in him that’d she’d stay determined to try saving him after they saved the rest of her friends? Of course Creek would rat them out, because that was such a Creek thing to do.
But they made friends with the Bergens. Bergens were no longer something trolls had to fear. And Chef and Creek were launched somewhere far away. Much deserved. Branch shouldn’t have to worry anymore now.
But the nightmares still came.
It wouldn’t just be any Bergen snatching someone up, but specifically that Chef. Roaring about how “Trolls are the only thing that can make you truly happy!” And maybe she doesn’t speak, and just wears that wicked grin. And then there’d be Creek, too, with his stupid smug look. And then there’s more and more layers his subconscious can work with each new adventure.
Losing music forever. Watching someone he loves get turned into a rock zombie. And then when he finds his brothers again— Oh, how that fucking diamond reappears over and over again in his nightmares. Sometimes it’s not even Floyd who’s stuck almost completely drained of life. Sometimes it’s Bruce, or John Dory, or Clay, or Poppy.
Sometimes, it might even be him trapped in there.
Sometimes, the nightmares aren’t even anything that makes sense. Just a bunch of things cobbled together in a chaotic mess, and Branch won’t know how to process a single thing about it, and that means he quickly ends up forgetting about it. But it still leaves him feeling terrified and alone.
Except.
The first nightmare that scares him awake in the middle of the night is while they’re staying at Bruce’s place. Branch is in the guest room with Clay, Floyd, Poppy, and Viva. John Dory insisted on still sleeping in Rhonda, and Bruce has his own room, because this is his house. (The rest of Kismet had different accommodations, because he wasn’t about to make his older brother host his friends along with everyone else.) He’s incredibly lucky that none of the other sleeping trolls in the room woke up. All those years training himself to wake up quietly have paid off.
It’s easier to reassure himself that everyone is fine when almost half of the people he cares about are in the same room. He can force himself to breathe normally again. It’s too early for this. There’s not even any light coming through the window curtain. And sunrise is relatively early on a place like Vacay Island. Wonderful, now he’s going to be stuck awake, and he’ll be tired all day.
Bits of the fear still cling to him. Branch doesn’t want to leave the room, but he feels pushed to check and make sure everyone he cares about is okay. He could take a quick look into Bruce’s room, and while he’s about it, Rhonda and John Dory should at most be right outside. He gets up slowly, carefully steps around the sleeping trolls that chose the floor to sleep in, and makes his way into the hallway.
Stubbornly, Branch walks along the wall with the lights still off. He might not be able to see 100%, but any danger won’t see well either. In fact, he’s pretty sure he could see better than any danger his mind could come up with in his nightmares. Everything is fine. Branch peaks into where Bruce had shown them his bedroom was. It’s empty.
“Bruce?” He tries whispering out. No answer. Okay, no need to panic yet. He might be in the bathroom. Yeah, the bathroom. And Branch doesn’t want to interrupt his brother while he’s in the bathroom. Branch can go check on John Dory, then come back after to check on Bruce again. It’s fine.
On his way, Branch can see the kitchen light on. He stops for a moment, but then he recognizes his older brother’s humming. Quickly and quietly, Branch makes his way into the kitchen. It smells strongly of something Grandma used to make, which applies to a lot of things the second oldest cooks. There Bruce is, humming as he works on something on the stove, which is impressive considering how much smaller he is than the stove. One of his kids is sitting on the counter, swinging their legs.
“Bruce?”
Bruce stops humming and looks over at Branch in the doorway. He smiles and waves. “You’re up early. Bad dream?”
“No,” Branch lies, “I just woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. What’s going on here?”
Bruce gestures with his head towards the kid on the counter. “Someone had a nightmare, so I’m making the special, no-more-nightmares, sleepy-time drink. You want some?”
Branch hesitates for a moment. He shrugs. “Sure. Okay.” And that night, he’s sure he must have fallen asleep again on the kitchen counter. He’s absolutely sure, but he also has the strange sense of being carried back to bed. And that’s where he wakes up, all tucked in, at a more reasonable hour. He’s also the only one left sleeping in there.
The second time Branch wakes up in the middle of the night, he’s back in his bunker. He does his usual habit of clamping a hand over his mouth and curling in on himself. He’s quiet and forcing himself to take even breaths, no matter how much that may burn his lungs. He needs to be calm and normal again. Then he’ll check that everything in the bunker is up and running as it should be.
Before he can get up, Branch hears something just outside his door. There’s a thud, then soft whispering, then rustling. He tenses for a moment. Then the door starts to crack open, and he can recognize the softly whispered “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” And he knows that voice well.
“Floyd?”
Floyd’s familiar hair pokes in as the brother slowly starts to enter. “Sorry. I woke you up didn’t I?”
“I…” Branch isn’t about to tell his brother about any nightmares. “It’s fine. Is everything alright?”
“Yeah. I just—” Floyd rubs at his eyes. “I’m gonna sleep in here, if that’s okay.”
And all of the sudden, a brief memory comes to mind. He remembers being much smaller, in his baby crib. Being half asleep, as someone lifts him out of his crib. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Floyd had whispered. “Let’s sleep in my bed for the rest of the night, okay?” And then he eased into sleep, because it was always nice to sleep in his brothers’ beds with them.
In the present, Branch scoots over in his bed to make room for his brother. Going out to do maintenance on the Bunker is out of the question now. His brother needs him. Floyd slips in next to him under the blanket. He sighs. “Good night.”
“Good night…” And oh, Branch realizes he’s stuck back in bed now. His brother’s thrown an arm around him, anchoring him in place. Even if Branch feels confident enough to know when Floyd is for certain asleep, would he dare move that arm off him? Would he be so cruel? Looks like he’s going to be staring at the ceiling for a while.
Branch studies the subtle patterns of his ceiling, listens to his brother’s breathing, and feels the weight of a limb and the warmth of a body next to him. He closes his eyes for just a second, and then suddenly he opens them again to flash and shutter of a camera. He blinks.
Floyd is still next to him in the bed, and Branch still feels like the arm is anchoring him down. He turns his head and sees his oldest brother retreating out of the room, snickering something. Branch turns and looks at his clock. It was morning already. He must have fallen asleep after all.