Work Text:
It’s a slow day today. Not something awful, he supposes, especially for how the weather has turned out. The temperature is moderate, and the sun is filtered through puffy white clouds that his little brother insists on watching. He finds himself laid upon the grass on the hill, staring up at the wide blue sky and pondering the shapes of them. It’s so awfully mundane. It’s wonderful.
Lying on his chest, Dream squirms eagerly and waves around his fingers to trace the shapes of a ‘doggy’, which looks more like a horse to him. He grunts as an elbow gets driven into his chest, rather close to his healing wound. His ward rather unapologetically squeaks a ‘sorry’ before adding ‘you’re wrong, though,’ to which Nightmare can’t help laughing at. The sound is rippling through him, it tugs at his scar and hurts less than he thought it would. And it isn’t as awful and ragged as he remembers; it’s strangely soft, the voice of an average man who is simply happy.
Nightmare doesn’t really recognize the man who laughs. His little brother, too, gives pause with surprise and delight. His body grows rigid, as if he’s freezing before a stray animal to avoid scaring it off. Then, he takes in a deep breath, as much as his chest can hold.
“You laughed!” Dream exclaims.
“I occasionally do.”
“Nuh uh. You do a little ‘ha ha’, but not a big ‘ha ha.’” His son pauses. “You should do that more. It’s a good laugh.”
Nightmare runs his fingers over the trailing ribbons from Dream’s sunhat, watching the clouds slowly pass by. He touches the corners of his mouth. The expression of this smile is new to him.
Quietly, gently. “Perhaps I will.”