I'm not ready for this, Dream thought as he stood in front of the study doors. Large and imposing just like the rest of the manor--and no less intimidating. He held up a hand to knock, then pulled it back down. He wasn't ready for this, but he wanted to do it--just wasn't confident. Nightmare wouldn't hurt him for asking, would he? No, Nightmare wants me gone as soon as possible. He wouldn't do anything that would set back my healing, Dream decided.
Remember, Dream, ask about us, ask about the symbol, ask about his side, ask about being useful. Night has better things to do than listen to you ramble.
Dream brought his hand up to the door and firmly knocked, flaring his aura slightly so Nightmare was aware it was him on the other side of the door.
"You may enter." Nightmare's voice rang out from behind the door--and Dream had to repress his embarrassment as he recalled what he had said to his other-half last night in his drowsy state.
The lighter guardian entered the room, and avoided Nightmare's gaze by busying himself with shutting the door.
Nightmare was similarly stumped on what to say, and the figure in his head was decidedly unhelpful. "It's good to see you on your feet."
Dream looked up to Nightmare only to nod sheepishly. "Yeah."
"Something you need?"
Dream swallowed thickly, trying to push past his apprehension. "I have a few questions, if you're willing to answer them?"
Nightmare glanced up from his paperwork. "Alright?"
Dream stared at his toiling hands. "Night... What are we?"
Nightmare startled. "What do you mean?"
"Before the villagers, we were just... just us. After, we were called brot--"
"We are not brothers!" Nightmare screeched out--practically shouting--and trying desperately not to snap his pen under his intense grip, "don't you dare spread that lie here."
Dream shouted back, "I know that now! I knew it before, too. I just gave in--it was easier. There's no excuse for how I behaved back then, but please, please, hear me out? The villagers weren't exactly kind to me, Night. They were soft in their approach, but expectations and being pulled in a thousand directions and the fear of retaliation, it...it broke me. They insisted we were brothers, and I found no issues with the label--I didn't think it mattered. I should have asked how it made you feel, Night, and I didn't and I'm sorry. We're dual-guardians. I knew it then, I know it now, and I'm ready to scream it to the multiverse if that's what you want."
Nightmare twitched, then frowned--his emotions reserved and restrained--although it seemed like he wanted to say something. "Alright."
Dream furrowed his brow bone, and tried his best not to be disheartened by the lack of an 'apology accepted' from Nightmare. He steeled his nerves--thousands of years of fighting his dual-guardian telling him to run when the other screamed--and said, "Night, can I ask you something else?"
Nightmare leaned back into his chair, trying his best to soothe his very suddenly frayed nerves. "Go ahead."
Dream's hands shook, despite his own best efforts to calm down. "What is your side of the story?"
At Nightmare's obvious confusion, Dream continued, "I-I know some things happened while I was away, but you would never tell me what. I don't know what happened to you up until you started eating the apples--and I want to. I really, really, want to, Night. I want to understand. Why did you have one in the first place? Why--"
"We are not talking about this," Nightmare interrupted, his body tense. He was gripping the edge of his desk--exerting force on it as his tentacles lashed behind him.
Dream knew the warning signs of irritation from Nightmare's scolding of the boys yesterday, but he forged ahead anyway; pleading, "Night, please, I don't want to be ignorant anymore."
"We are not talking about this," Nightmare repeated, his tone restrained. He stood from his chair as he spoke, both of his hands planted firmly on his desk as he grit his teeth. "That is final."
Dream nodded, and repressed his sadness. I suppose that's that, then, Dream thought, slightly downcast. "That's alright, I understand. I'm open to listen if you ever want to talk about it."
Nightmare sat back down, his shoulders tense, yet loosening. "I will keep that in mind," he replied emptily, diving back into his paperwork. "Is there anything else you need?"
Dream nodded, then realized Nightmare couldn't see it from the way he had his head bowed into his work. "Yes, actually."
Without glancing up to Dream, Nightmare replied, "proceed."
"I want to be useful," Dream asserted, fidgeting with his hands. "We have no idea how long I will be here, and I don't want to take advantage of your hospitality by sitting around as dead weight. I'll do any job you're willing to give me."
"You're still healing," Nightmare pointed out. "'Being useful', as you put it, could prolong your recovery."
"I know," Dream said, allowing himself to droop slightly at the acknowledgement. He quickly perked up again, as if trying to cover the dip in his mood with a smile. "But I refuse to be useless. You're feeding me, clothing me, healing me, and hosting me--I want to give something back."
Nightmare glanced up to Dream's determined eyelights, considered his answer for a moment, then nodded slowly. "If you insist. I'll check with Rose today to see what you can do that will not jeopardize your condition."
Dream beamed at his other half, and controlled his desire to throw himself into Nightmare's arms and hug him silly. "Thanks, Night!"
"Yeah, yeah," Nightmare responded with a roll of his eyelight. "Now get out of my study. Your emotions are so disgustingly positive you're giving me a headache."
"Sorry, Night," Dream apologized--warding off the waves of positivity he was clearly producing. He held the door open. "I'll leave you be--thanks again!"
As soon as Dream closed the door, he allowed himself to feel the excitement and joy he had been restraining while he was so close to his other half. A large smile broke out on his face, and he resisted the urge to jump for joy. He didn't quite understand why he was so happy, but he certainly wasn't going to resist it. He did deflate slightly when he recalled that he only got two of four of his objectives done--ask Night about their relation, ask Night about the symbol, ask Night about his side of the story and about himself being useful--but he didn't allow it to drag him down too much as he went to go find the Imperial knights.
The dark halls seemed to shrink away from the palpable joy radiating off of Dream as he walked calmly towards the area Killer had told him earlier the boys would be hanging out in. Navigating the manor still felt unnatural to the guardian, although he was getting better at traversing the hallways--proven by the speed at which he found the knights.
"Hey, Little Light!" Killer called, beckoning Dream to join the table he, Cross, Dust, and Horror were sitting at.
The room the five monsters were in had high ceilings and a far more open feel in comparison to the rest of the manor. It was decorated in a less formal style than the royal theme that permeated the other sections of the manor, and was much more welcoming in feel.
"Hey, Dream," Horror greeted. "Welcome to the Imperial lounge."
"Imperial lounge?" Dream parroted, taking in the room--including the stocked bar--in.
"Yeah," Cross confirmed. "Killer named it. This is where we hang out in between missions--only bar staff, cleaners, us, you, and Boss can enter."
Dream sat down next to Cross and Dust at the circular table, sitting across from Killer and Horror. "Why me?"
"You are a higher rank than us," Dust pointed out, "both within the empire and the multiverse in general."
"I'm only a higher rank in theory," Dream replied, "Night has yet to confirm where I stand."
Killer shrugged as he shuffled a large deck of cards. "You want to be dealt in?"
"What are we playing?"
"Texas hold 'em--it's a human game from some AUs. It's like poker," Cross explained, bringing out some plastic chips from a box on the table.
Dream's brow furrowed. "I've never heard of it--what is poker? How do you play?"
The Imperial knight's jaws dropped. "You're old as dirt, how the fuck do you not know how to play poker?" Dust questioned.
"I am not that old," Dream protested, "I've only lived a millennium or so, and I have spent the majority of that time defending the multiverse--I've never had time to stop and play a simple game."
Cross, Horror, Dust, and Killer looked startled. Horror ran his fingers under his dead socket. "Okay, I knew you and Boss were old, but..."
"Have you not taken a break in over a thousand years?" Killer asked, his ever-present grin slightly smaller than normal. "I mean, I get never hearing of poker, but never hearing of poker because you were too busy is a little concerning, Sunny."
Dream felt like he had backed himself into a corner, but he nodded. "Yes, me and Ink roamed the multiverse almost constantly. Neither he nor I need to sleep nor eat--although Ink does get stronger when he eats."
Cross snapped his gaze into Dream's. "You don't... need to eat?"
"No, I don't," Dream replied, "Nightmare and I are less immortal than Ink or Error, but we don't need to do things that normal monsters do. Neither Error nor Ink can die permanently--they regenerate--but Night and I can. Me and Nightmare don't need to eat like Ink and Error, for completely separate reasons--Ink and Error are strong enough to not need it, and Nightmare and I gain our strength from the emotions across the multiverse."
Horror nodded slowly, then his eyelight widened. "Does that mean you feed on positivity like Boss feeds on negativity?"
Dream flinched. "I... yes. Just as Nightmare spreads negativity wherever he goes and feeds off of it, I do the same. He was more active in this matter--he could consciously draw the negativity off of someone to make him stronger, while I do it passively. Now, he does it passively as well."
The Imperial knights were silent, and for the second time today his body told him to run--and run fast.
"So, do you want to learn?" Dream heard Dust ask.
Dream snapped his head up to meet the hooded skeleton's gaze. "What?"
"Do you want to learn how to play Texas hold 'em?" He repeated.
"You're not...upset? Surprised?" Dream asked quietly. He was shocked--he hadn't told this fact about himself to Ink nor Blue (nor anyone he had met, for that matter) because he was afraid they would claim him selfish or a monster.
Horror cocked his head. "Surprised?--a little, but upset--no." He shrugged, "you want to live--and I know you also spread positivity because you believe in it."
Cross put a hand on Dream's shoulder. "So, do you want to know how to play?"
As it turns out, Dream is great at poker. Less at the concept of a 'poker face'--however, being an emotive guardian means even hidden excitement is easily spotted. Dream tried not to use this ability, instead looking at telltale signs of emotions--which was hardest with Killer and Cross--no eye lights for Killer, and Cross was good at covering his emotional signature and his emotional tells.
Dust and Horror were already out of chips, having lost in the third fourth rounds respectively. Killer was running low, and Cross and Dream were evenly matched. As stated, Dream had no concept of a poker face, but was winning anyway. It was not that the knights were going easy on him--they were playing as aggressively as they would with anyone, but luck was on his side.
"Hah! Queen, jack, ten, nine, eight! My straight flush beats yours!" Killer exclaimed, slamming his hand down on the table after Cross revealed his hand.
Dream's smile widened, reminiscent of Nightmare's when he got exactly what he wanted. He slid his hand towards the large collection of chips in the center.
"Oh ho ho! Just what do you have that's got you so confident, Little Light?"
Dream smirked, then slowly placed his hand on the table. A king and an ace of spades--the same suit as the common queen, jack, and ten. "Royal flush."
There was a small riot.