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take these broken wings and learn to fly:
They still knew each other like the back of their hands.
Sure, Sam grew up (as everyone did), but Dream still found similarities to her and Isabelle. The good qualities, thankfully—though he never admitted it out loud.
Quiet, trying to look scary with her resting face: yet she also managed to be witty and cunning when prompted. Whenever she and Alastor had that fight where she shot those Arrows of Harming at him, Dream…kept his distance when it came down to her rage. He didn’t do well with the memories associated with them, and would rather not be caught in the crossfire.
Yet she posed no threat to him after getting it out of her system. Just acted like a little shadow and observed any other activity he, Kylo Ren and Belos partook in.
She didn’t pry at first, mainly because she didn’t want to intrude—Pandora was definitely an iffy topic for him, and she knew better than to force anything out of him. She was lucky to hear bits and pieces, even if they brought him discomfort for sharing. Yet with the silly little promise they made years ago (“cross my heart, hope to die, stick a knife in someone’s eye” and hand motions to tie it together), she swore to never tell anyone else: and she kept that promise.
There was one thing she dug into, though: him being part Ender dragon.
She was confused when she reunited with him: usually he’d stretch them out and go on a flight while she watched with sparkling, curious eyes. Things were subdued about the subject, and she had a gut feeling about it.
He joined her on the rooftop late at night, seeing her thinking along. When she brought it up, he tilted his head and gave a hum.
“And what about my wings?” He lowered himself to sit next to her, leaning back on his hands.
“I was just curious.” She admitted. “I haven’t seen them in a while. Usually, you’re flaunting them like some peacock.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I haven’t felt like it lately. Nothing you did, just…something I haven’t felt like showing off.”
She furrowed her brows. That was setting off a bell in her head: she had known him long enough to see that he was the type to show off any feature he had, whether it be his skill, the base, anything that had to do with him. His confidence bordered on arrogance at times, but this admission felt so uncharacteristic.
“Is that so…” She whispered. He ruffled her hair, her leaning into the touch.
“Don’t look too far into it, sunshine.” He told her, standing up. “Not your place, you don’t need to worry about me.”
She frowned, leaning forward and hugging her knees. “...okay, Dream.” She relented. “Night.” She watched him leave without another word, then stared up at the sky. Her eyes narrowed.
She needed to get down to the bottom of that.
_oOo_
He was burning alive.
Dream was far too aware of the newly installed shackles and the searing cut marks and bruises from being beaten with shears. His hair got in his face and he wanted nothing more than to chop it all off. Yet his horns and wings, the ones that normally felt so natural on his body, felt so wrong now.
He lost count of how long he was in Pandora’s Vault, but it was definitely more than a month. He refused to give up the Revival Book, no matter what would happen.
He didn’t expect this. Didn’t expect his part Ender dragon form to be triggered, flaring up right in the middle of being tortured by Quackity and AweSam. Speaking of them…
He squirmed and moved away from the looming shadow that belonged to Quackity, only to hiss in pain when the shears hit the side of his face. A way to drive him down to the ground, to be weakened enough to lose the Revival Book—but he wasn’t giving it up any time soon.
He spat up some blood, wings awkwardly jittering. He needed to get him away and fast. Unfortunately for him, Quackity’s movements were faster. He felt his body being shoved down to the ground, saw Quackity’s lips moving: his words didn’t register.
Blood roared in his ears as he felt another set of hands on him—this time AweSam’s—as his body remained pinned to the prison floor.
“Get off,” he rasped, “get OFF!” His voice was too weak to be convincing: how pathetic, he thought. The owner of the SMP, Moonlight’s Confidant and a man who knew how to plan wars was brought down to a trembling mess.
That man was gone the moment he felt cold metal touch his back. His body locked up the moment the tip of AweSam’s sword poked into his skin. He let out a sharp hiss, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He didn’t want to appear weaker than what he already was, but it was over the moment the base of his wing was being carved into.
A scream ripped from his throat before he could stifle it. The cartilage tore, and blood dripped down his back. A nerve got damaged, and uncomfortable tingling shot down his back. His head jerked forward and hit the floor. His body thrashed underneath the two, then—
Another scream: louder. The left wing gave a sickening shift when a bone popped out of place. He heaved, nothing coming up as AweSam tugged his wing. A crack, paired with another pop.
“Shut UP!”
He felt Quackity grab his horn and yank his head up. He didn’t want the energy to drain out of him, but he felt his eyes burn.
He was stronger than this.
He had to be.
His wing tore from his back and his body jerked up. Then the other wing was ripped just as carelessly, and all he could do was…let it happen.
And he woke up yelling, no aftermath or wallowing with the lack of wings: only light seeping through from the windows. His heart raced in his chest, his hands pressed against it as if things would help it slow down.
The scars on his back suddenly stung, and he grunted. He rolled over in bed and kicked off the blankets. The cold made it much worse, adding a biting feeling to the phantom pain. His shoulders squared as he grimaced, his head falling forward as he panted.
He hissed. “Fuck.”
It lasted far too long. The moment the pain throbbed into mere discomfort, he laid on his stomach and sighed. It was too early for this—
“Dream?”
He buried his face in the pillow and groaned. “What?” It was harsher than usual, and he could just sense her flinching.
“You woke up yelling and you’re in pain, again.” She began quietly, holding a sudden sharpness. Not the usual, gentle tone used for situations like this. She sounded fed up, even for her.
Dream rolled over onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.” She spat out. There was a heavy pause, then she continued. “Look. I understand if it was a nightmare, but—”
“Get out, Samantha!” He threw a pillow at her and she yelped, stumbling back. She threw it back at him with double the force, hearing his hiss of pain when it grazed his back. She winced, then padded over. She growled when he shoved his hand in her face.
“Just let me help you for once!” She pushed herself away, then huffed. “You’re already helping me use the Elytra properly and not to mention so much more! Just let me do this favor.” She then frowned as her bottom lip stuck out slightly, going all doe-eyed on him. “Pleeeeease, Dreamie?”
He ignored how sickeningly sweet the nickname sounded from her. “Are you…pouting right now?” He sat up, making a face. “At your age of seventeen?”
“So what if I am?” She retorted, folding her arms. There was a long pause that was getting drawn out.
He deadpanned. “...you know those eyes don’t work on me anymore, right?”
She let out a prolonged groan and threw her hands in the air. “Fine! Whatever! Don’t accept my help, you stubborn piece of—eh?” She blinked when he grabbed her arm. He let out a long sigh, sitting up straighter.
“Sit.” He pointed at the edge of the bed. She did. “...I’ll continue teaching you about using the Elytra in exchange for something else. Deal?”
She nodded eagerly. “Of course. What’s up?”
He glanced at the door, narrowing his eyes. She was quick to get up, shut and lock it, then pad back over to sit in her original spot. This prompted him to continue. “I…don’t use my dragon wings anymore.”
“...why?” She asked softly. His shoulders slumped as he rubbed his temples.
“Let’s see if this still works.” He sat up straighter, closing his eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but she saw him grimace and lean forward. She jerked back and fell off the bed, groaning.
“Finally showing off your…uhh…” She sat up, then let out a strangled gasp. She saw slitted pupils staring back at her, accompanied by scattered scales that seemed to glint. Clawed hands with jagged black and deep purple patterns, zig-zagging up his arms. His horns curved back, and the only thing missing…were his wings. “…holy shit.” She hadn’t seen his form in forever, and it felt like the first time all over again.
“I don’t have my wings anymore.” He told her, sitting up fully with a grimace. She frowned deeply and reached out to him, only to pull back.
“Does it hurt?” She tilted her head. “Transforming, I mean.”
“Not when you get used to it.” He leaned back. “The first couple times, though? It felt like something was crawling in my skin.”
“Ew.” She shuddered, then took a moment to compose herself. She looked at his back, then frowned. “...Pandora, huh?”
“Unfortunately.” He ran a hand down his face. “Quackity…” His eyes fell as he turned his head away. Sam scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder.
“You realize I’d do anything to beat that asshole up, right?” She told him.
“I know, sunshine. I know.” He tucked her to his side, and her head snapped up.
“Wait.” She quickly bounced to her feet. “And your wings are still in Pandora?”
“That I know of.” Dream rolled his shoulder, almost nervous in his motions. “Could be there, could be mounted on that bastard’s wall, who knows. One thing that’s for certain is I’m never getting them back.” When he saw her frown again, he sighed. “Come on sweetheart, don’t give me that look.”
“If I could bring them back, you know I would.” She trailed off, turning her head. He gently pinched her chin and tilted it back to face him.
“You;re doing that thing again.” He remarked.
“That…thing?” She blinked.
“The savior thing where you try to make things better for everyone, even when it costs you.”
“It doesn’t cost me!”
“Samantha.”
“...sorry.”
Dream let out a controlled breath through his nose, his hands cupping her cheeks. He stared at her with a sharp look. “You don’t have to keep doing that.”
“I know.” Sam said simply. “But I—”
“And don’t say you want to, either.” He squished her cheeks, coaxing a laugh from her. “Besides. You need rest after the Manhunt incident.”
Right. When she almost died because of a random mob attack.
“I chugged that Potion of Healing and I’m fine.” Was all she told him. “I feel more than fine, actually, no injuries at all.”
“Whatever you say.” He gave a tired smile and leaned back, not feeling like arguing with her. “Now, give me twenty. I need to get dressed.”
“Okay.” She got up and walked to the door, turning the handle and leaving without another word.
…she was absolutely disregarding what he said, anyhow.
It was late at night when she went into the catacombs of the base.
Dressed in that same black undershirt and purple, hoodie capelet with cargo pants and boots, she secured her deer mask over her face. She hastily strapped a sword sheath to her belt and grabbed her enchanted netherite sword and her shield. Each footstep echoed ominously as she descended another set of stairs, her free hand brushing against the walls.
Everything was dark…until purple lighting flickered.
Her head snapped up: that must’ve been the Nether Portal they kept. She didn’t think twice before bolting in, the sudden teleportation making her dizzy. She staggered off of the portal’s ledge and grunted. She held out her hands to steady herself, rising to her full height.
She exhaled quietly. The area was too warm for her liking, but she recognized that uncanny interior anywhere: a terrifyingly similar area that resembled Pandora’s Vault. She now understood why Dream got the creeps.
Never mind that. She proceeded onward, each step thumping against the ground. It wasn’t quite the same, but déjà vu overwhelmed her senses. Her sword idly hung from her hand, frowning at her new predicament. No key cards.
“Well shit.” She rubbed her neck with her free hand, then swiveled around when she heard armor clanking. The figures before her were almost phantom-like, the only distinguishable trait about them was their enchanted armor. Her eyes lit up behind the mask when she noticed they individually had cards.
This was going to be easy. She told herself.
She glitched to the side when a sword swung at her, then she kicked down one guard. She yelped and ducked when an axe tried chopping her head off. Her foot kicked out and slammed against his shin to knock him down, and she wasted no time in getting back up and stabbing his throat. No sign of blood, but black mist curled around the slumped body, fading away. She snatched the card and glitched behind the remaining guard. She sheathed her sword and snatched up the axe. She took a wild swing and saw his head fall off, rolling away and fading into mist.
“Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.” She smiled under her mask, dropping the axe. She tilted the card around, examining it. She gave a hum as she walked towards one of the card authenticators. When and how Dream thought about this, she didn’t quite remember. Yet as she slid the card and it was verified, she wasted no time stepping through the guard entrance.
The rest of the walk was awkward, mainly because she was left alone with her thoughts. Even doubt clawed at her chest: what if this was all in vain? What if she couldn’t find Dream’s wings? Maybe not listening to him with a mistake.
She shook her head: no, she thought, they’ll be here. It’ll be fine. After reaching the end of the hallway and swiping the card (this was getting incredibly tedious for her liking), another entrance was revealed. She put one foot in front of the other and peered in, cocking her head to the side. Just another hallway, and it made her groan. She picked up the slack and jogged towards the end of it, then entered another room.
She craned her neck and saw a spiral staircase, making her groan. “Goddamnit.” Sure, she was more than happy to go through this if it meant that she completed her goal.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to complain, though.
Nonetheless, she put one foot on the stairs, then ascended swiftly. Her eyes caught something flickering past her, and she turned her head. She squinted to try and find what was the cause, then rolled her eyes.
“Fuck this shit, bruh.” She muttered under her breath, continuing up. After what felt like an eternity—and her legs burned—she reached the top of the staircase. She leaned against the wall, catching her breath. She took off her mask and wiped her brow. “Yuck.” She stuck her tongue out, feeling sweat bead along her brow. She felt like she was getting a real workout with how she was moving. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stood up straight. “Round two,” she told herself. She put her mask back on and walked forward.
However, her heart sank. She took note of the cells: nobody was in them, thankfully, but guilt gnawed at her throat. Dream had to endure a lot worse than the low security prisoners. It made sense given his power, but it only made her feel worse.
She kept glancing over her shoulders, shadows dancing in her peripheral vision. It was starting to drive her crazy how she thought she was seeing things, even when her mind was playing tricks on her.
Everything was too quiet again as she walked past the cells. She noticed the empty beds, the hollowness of how everything felt. Something worse crept on her being, and she shuddered.
“Here we go.” She told herself. It gave her something else to think about other than the impending horror she was reminded of when she thought about Dream. About what he endured.
Shit. That was a rude awakening.
The waterway room was just now in sight, and she frowned at the realization. Water. Right. She’d have to swim up. Duh.
She cocked her head again and stared forward. She stepped into the water and held her breath, feeling herself floating. She kicked her legs and propelled forward towards the blocked entrance. After activating it, she pushed through and staggered forward. She gasped for air and landed on her side, sopping wet and increasingly irritated.
“Ugh. Gross.” She shook herself off and sighed. Her shoulders slumped, and then she heard footsteps other than her own. Her eyes narrowed before shooting wide open at the sight before her.
He was more than definitely a Phantom, but she could tell who he was based on silhouette alone. Someone so daunting and the cause of Dream’s torture—Quackity.
She hated him beyond belief at what he and AweSam did to Dream. Rage was hot and coiling through her veins as she glared at him. Her heart stuttered when another Phantom appeared behind him, wielding a sword of his own.
Speaking of AweSam, he was right there. Two Phantoms of the former torturers.
“Oh shit.” She exhaled, raising her sword and shield. He was quick with his own sword, both of their blades igniting sparks as they made contact. He made no noise, only fast attacks that had her taking extra steps, spinning and grunting as her shield was hit. She fell onto her side as felt the jab of AweSam’s sword hilt into her ribcage. She kept clenching the hilt of her sword, crawling away from them. She was backed up to the end of the lava hallway. The heat was becoming intense on her back, and she yelped as she felt it burn the ends of her capelet.
She had to move. Fast.
She rolled away and hissed when she accidentally hit her head. Her sword was raised in retaliation to Quackity’s swing, and her other arm bore her shield as AweSam struck. Then, she noticed it.
Two personalized key cards for the Main Cell. Useful beyond where they were now, and she wanted them immediately. It would give her easier access.
…wit and speed were on her side.
She managed to snatch the cards from both Quackity and AweSam’s body and bolt forward. She frantically shuffled between the two before pocketing them: she hoped and prayed there wasn’t a difference with them. She yelped when the end of her capelet was yanked, and she dropped her sword. She threw her body on the ground and kicked AweSam’s chest. She perked up when she realized just how close they were to the lava hallway.
She grinned deviously under her mask and shoved. Hard. It was an uncharacteristic burst of strength from her part. She heard no scream, but felt the violent energy of fear as he fell into the lava. She glared over her shoulder as Quackity barreled forward, only to dodge his attack. She laughed when he almost tripped. She wanted to toy with him more.
A dreadful, awful, delicious idea came to mind. Quackity couldn’t speak or scream at her words, so she wanted to have fun with it. Acting as silent karma for what he put Dream through.
“Come on sugar pumpkin,” she taunted, “give me all you got!” She howled with more laughter as she glitched away from a barreling attack. She stood in front of the lava hallway and held her arms out. “Or maybe you’re just a pussy, Flatty Patty.”
She shrieked when his hand grabbed hers, ultimately attempting to drag her with him. She managed to fall on her back, only scalding her hand. She winced and yanked her hand away, fanning it.
“Okay, maybe that’s payback.” She told herself, then sighed. There was no more unease, and she dug through her pockets. Pulling out the cards, she rose to her feet and stalked towards the Main Cell. She pulled off her mask and groaned in relief, a sudden coolness hitting her face. It was odd and out of place…but as she entered the Cell, she saw them.
Beautiful black wings that had the faintest glittering of purple, with gray boning. They looked grand just sitting there on display, but she knew where they belonged.
With a beaming smile, she reached for them.
When she returned back upstairs, she was disheveled and dragging the wings.
They were much heavier than she expected, putting strain on her already tired body. With them being jittery as well, she was damn near ready to collapse. She grunted as she carried them on her back, losing her balance twice as she climbed up the stairs.
It was about mid-afternoon, perfect timing for her…but not for her body. She wanted to go to sleep so badly, but duty called.
“KYLOOO!” She called out, voice booming. “BELOS! I need y’all’s help!” She grinned tiredly when Belos materialized next to her, forming from goo. His eyes widened at the sight before him, Kylo Ren reaching the two of them.
“My my, did you slay a dragon, my child?” Belos’ hands hovered over the leathery wings. She shook her head.
“Nope!” She answered. “In fact, these rightfully belong to someone.”
“Wait.” Kylo Ren furrowed his brows, lifting the wings for support. “Whose are these?”
“Dream’s.” She said simply. “Now, I need to get these back to him.”
“Get what back to me?” Dream’s voice rang out, and her head snapped up when he stopped right in front of her. His eyes looked ready to pop out of their sockets. Sam let out a noise akin to a squawk as the wings fidgeted in her grip, making her fall on her face. Dream winced, but didn’t move further.
His eyes were on the wings—no. His wings. The ones he lost years ago…now in front of him all of a sudden.
“...where did you find these?” He asked skeptically, kneeling beside her. His hands ran along the leather and boning, noticing how the light caught the purple, glittery undertones.
“I got my ass busted in a doppelgänger Pandora’s Vault.” Sam answered simply. “Phantom guys almost killed me, but I killed them faster.”
Kylo Ren gave an amused hum in reply, helping her off the ground. “Not surprising from you.”
“You callin’ me predictable?” She grinned at him, eyes lighting up at the subtle smirk he gave. He held his hands up.
“I never said anything.” He told her, and she giggled. Belos turned his head to face Dream, raising a brow at his almost awestruck look.
“You didn’t expect to get them back, did you?” He lowered his voice. Dream pursed his lips, only managing a weak shake of his head.
“Samantha…how—?” He was cut off when she patted his arm.
“I’ll sew these bad boys on.” She sounded so sure, so confident, it made his heart absolutely ache. She was always so determined. He didn’t even know how to respond to her from that point. Instead, he managed something simple.
“Okay,” he nodded, “yeah, sure. Do your thing.”
“Great.” She dragged the wings towards his room, then came back shortly. “But first.” She leaned against him heavily, his arm around her waist and tucking her to his side. “I need a nap. And to go see Alastor to get sewing shit.”
“Nap first.” Kylo Ren carefully took the sword and shield from her. “You look ready to pass out.”
“What?” Sam raised a brow. “Pshh, nah, I’m fine.” A lie she tried convincing herself with more than anyone else. Dream rolled his eyes and turned his back to her.
“Come on.” Was all he said, and she leaned her chest against his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he picked her up in a piggyback fashion. When they were alone, he whispered: “What did I tell you?”
“Whatever whatever, something to do with saviors.” Sam’s head lolled against his. Dream let out a scoff, almost disappointed.
“You’re lucky I’m allowing it because you got my wings back.” He paused in front of her bed, letting her get down and kick off her boots. “...you got my wings back.” He repeated, mostly to himself.
“Duh.” She tossed her mask aside. “Why wouldn’t—oof!” She expected more scolding, a sarcastic comment, something witty: not him hugging her like he was about to die.
Well…okay, maybe she did expect it.
“You’re a crazy fucking kid.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Seriously, hon. What the hell was going through your mind?” He pulled back and held her shoulders.
“I wanted to get them back for you.” She replied. Her eyes drooped as she continued, “You took me in when shit hit the fan, I needed to repay you somehow.”
“Samantha, we’ve known each other for five years.” He reminded her. “You don’t need to repay me with anything other than your safety. Isabelle—”
“I genuinely couldn’t give a shit about her.” She cut him off. “I only care about you. You were more like a guardian to me than she ever was.”
“...goddamnit, Samantha.” He whispered, watching her lay down on the bed.
“Quick nap, then I’ll get the sewing stuff.” She repeated. She smiled when his hand slicked back her messy bangs.
“Rest. I mean it.” He chided gently, pulling the blanket over her and turning off the light. “Prime, sweetheart. You’re gonna give me white hairs.”
But even he smiled as he walked out.
_oOo_
After a shower and putting on some sweatpants and a hoodie, she came to his room with a sewing kit she borrowed from Alastor—after Dream left her, she simply couldn’t fall asleep, deciding a nap was going to be scheduled for later.
Dream raised a brow. “That was fast.” He had already shifted into his dragon form, slitted pupils, curved horns, patterns, scales and all.
“He and I are still iffy about the soul stealing thing.” She sat in front of him on the bed. “After I shot him, I think he treads lighter now.”
He snorted in amusement. “Daddy Deerest is scared of his own daughter?”
“Don’t start.” She quipped, but a smirk tugged on her lips. She pulled out the needle and her phone, searching for a tutorial video. He noticed this.
He huffed. “...are you seriously watching a tutorial?”
“And if I am?” She said without missing a beat.
“I would never trust you to be a surgeon.”
“You’re lucky I’m doing forensics in the future.”
“That feels like an even bigger threat.”
“Shut up and let me do this.”
They shared a grin before she scooted closer. He pulled his hoodie and shirt off of his body, his scarred back exposed. Her shoulders sagged at the sight, and her palm pressed in between his shoulder blades. Not to shove or guide, but to just…provide comfort.
“Sorry if it hurts.” She warned. “It’s my first time sewing.”
“I’ve been through worse treatment, little fawn.” He reassured her. “A little prodding isn’t going to be the death of me.”
She took a deep breath, bringing one wing to his back. It wasn’t as jittery like when she brought it back from…wherever the hell that place was. She pinched her needle and looped the magic threading with it. Green magic pulsed from the thread, waning into a soft, purple glow. She gripped the base of his wing.
“Ready?” She asked.
“Ready.” He said.
As the first thread was pulled through the skin, he yelped. That was not at all pleasant.
“Sorry!” Sam winced. “Sorry sorry sorry—”
“No no, keep going…” Dream let his head fall forward, his whole body tensing. “Do what you need to do.”
“But you—”
“You keep going until I say stop. Got it?”
“...got it.”
“Thank you. Now…keep sewing.”
She made sure to be gentler, her hands shaking slightly at the realization. She needed scissors. She glanced at him, then the kit, and finally at him again. Her heart pounded: she knew his issue with shears.
“Don’t kill me…” She trailed off. “But I need you to trust me.”
He raised a brow. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I need to use scissors.” She frowned, then quickly added: “To cut the threading! Not to hurt you.”
His answer was more hesitant. “...I trust you.” He repeated, quieter than usual. She swallowed thickly and nodded to herself. She pulled the thread and gripped the scissors carefully. She exhaled through her nose and brought the blades to the thread. She gave it a quick snip, pulling away the scissors. She set them on her lap and unraveled the thread wheel.
“You’re doing good.” She whispered. “Just a while longer.” She glanced at her phone, then back at the wheel. She rolled it and pulled more thread, pinching it in between her fingers. It continued glowing that soft purple, and he couldn’t help but slowly look back. His eyes lidded as he watched her continue to work. The crease in her brow, the way her tongue stuck out in concentration, her hands working much more cautiously.
All because she cared, even more than Isabelle.
Not to say Isabelle didn’t care (even though the implication was there), it was just she had other means to take care of. Sometimes, she didn’t even think about the pain being inflicted. Just dragged Dream along because if she needed him, he would be right beside her.
Always the loyal guard dog, he was.
“Dream?”
“Mm?”
“First wing’s on.”
Dream almost gaped at her. “It’s what?”
Sam gestured to his back. “Move it around.”
He paused, before closing his eyes. As he held his arms up, his wing jerked outward. It felt much better to stretch it out completely, the sudden tension melting from his body. He almost laughed in relief.
“I need to give you more credit.” He commented, seeing her roll her eyes playfully.
“You don’t have to give me shit.” She retorted, grabbing his second wing. “...do you need a break?” When he shook his head, she continued. More confident in her motions and calmer when threading through the second wing.
Things were quiet, but not uncomfortable. She couldn’t remember the last time they sat in this much silence—perhaps before things got too complicated. Too dangerous. Too much.
“Isn’t the thread supposed to be green?” He spoke up.
“Yeah, but I guess my magic overpowered Alastor’s.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Purple’s more my color, anyway. You’re the green one here.”
He let out a slight laugh. “You’re too kind.” He told her sarcastically, then shuddered when he felt the needle press too close to a scar. She yanked it back like she was burned.
“Shit—” She swore. “Dream, I—”
“Sweetheart, keep going.” He cut her off. “You’re fine. Like I told you, I dealt with worse. You’re being much gentler than your mother ever was.”
“Well, Mom was a psychotic deity that wanted to take you down with her.” She rolled her eyes. “And you didn’t have the balls to tell her no when she did.”
“Woah.” Dream brought a hand to his chest, looking mock offended. “Okay, you little shit. Watch it.”
“Who’s helping you?” She teased.
“Uh, who’s housing you?” He shot back, still smiling. She laughed a bit harder, shaking her head.
“Which person?” She asked in between giggles, and soon the two of them fell into a pit of laughter together. She took a deep breath before giggling again, her forehead resting against his shoulder. “Fuck, oh my god.”
“Don’t say I started it—”
“You did!”
“Did not!”
The banter was enough for her to keep going, and eventually, she slowed down. Silence overtook them again, and she clapped his shoulder carefully.
“Okay…stretch both of them out.” She packed up the kit and locked her phone. He hesitated, before standing up. He inhaled through his nose, his shoulders losing tension as his wings unfolded. His eyes lit up at the realization, and he turned to stare in the mirror.
Even as scars adorned his body, nothing could take away the sudden rush of pure bliss he felt: and even better, this wasn’t some dream he was having. He wasn’t asleep, thrashing in bed, completely given up on finding his wings again.
Because his little shadow brought them back to him.
“I missed them.” She ran her fingers along the boning. “You always looked happier with them, anyway.”
“...thank you.” He whispered. She blinked in surprise, fully facing him. She saw that lopsided smile of his and opened her arms.
“Can you do that thing?” She stepped closer. His arms circled around her shoulders as he brought her to his chest. His chin rested on the top of her head, and slowly but surely…his wings wrapped around her, too. She squealed in response and hugged tighter. “Yes!”
“You missed them more than I did.” He mused.
“That’s a lie and you damn well know it.” She called him out, staring up at him through her lashes. He pulled back and cupped her face. His smile faded as he noticed the dark circles under eyes seeming far more prominent from usual.
“Didn’t you take a nap?” He scowled at her, and her eyes shot wide open.
“Uh.” She cleared her throat. “I got too anxious. I couldn’t sleep.”
He groaned, his head rolling back. “I swear to Prime.”
“Can you blame me?!” She held her hands up in defense. “I wanted to take care of you first!” She let out a disgruntled growl when he squeezed her cheeks with his clawed hands, as if he was trying to squeeze out the selflessness from her body.
“I’m begging you to be selfish for once.” He released her face. “But first—nap. Now.” He dragged her by the hoodie as she yelped.
“Okay okay OKAY!” She flailed, shoving his hand off of him. “Goddamn!” She ended up sitting on the opposite side of his bed, and he joined her. Her head fell against his shoulder as her eyes drooped. She gave a tired grin as his wing blanketed over her.
“You’re far too nice for your own good.” He mumbled.
“Maybe you’re just not used to it.” She mumbled back. He didn’t have a witty comeback after that.
“Maybe.” Was all he said. He felt her body slump against him, and he wasted no time in leaning back against the headboards. “Rest. Seriously.”
She curled up against his side, her arms hugging herself after she tugged a loose blanket over them both. “I am.”
“I’m counting on it.” His voice grew thick with his own exhaustion.
“Dream?”
“Mm?”
“God, I sound stupid for saying this. It’s like I’m twelve all over again.”
“Just spit it out.”
“...I love you, Dreamie.”
Damn. That went straight to his heart. He was almost expecting to hear ”I can’t wait to see you again,” from her, but he was thankful it never came out: the memory brought back too much pain for him…even if he’d never admit it out loud.
He slicked back her bangs. “Tolerate you too, hon.”
“We’ll fly together tomorrow?” She suggested.
“Absolutely.” He agreed. “I need to practice again, anyhow.”
“Good.”
“Now sleep.”
“I am, I am.”
It wasn’t long before Belos passed by the room. He stopped in front of the doorway and peered in, his brows raising at the sight. Both Dream and Sam were passed out, sitting against the headboard, his wings covering her body. Both of them looked…content, for once.
Kylo Ren stared over Belos’ shoulder, not saying anything further…but something softer flickered through. Deciding not to disrupt anything, the two walked off with some quality time in mind.
And if Dream smiled in his sleep for once? That was to his knowledge and his alone.