A little Cream for those up late
“I’m useless.” Dream gasped in a whisper.
“You’re not useless…” Cross said quietly, crouching down beside the guardian who had curled himself up in the corner of their closet, hugging his knees tightly into his chest.
“Then what am I? Pathetic? Worthless? I can’t save them, Cross. I can’t save anyone!” Dream’s volume slowly rose until he was yelling without even looking at his royal guard. “A whole world, gone, just because Nightmare wanted to let Error play.”
“It’s not your fault, Dream. Error always gets out of hand, even on good days. Look, we can go to Ink and ask him-“
“To fix it? To fix my mistake with a flick of his wrist?” The guardian still wouldn’t look at him, preferring to bury his head in his thighs, completing the image of a Dream-shaped ball.
“Ink fixes Error’s rampages all the time. That’s his thing. Asking for help-“
Cross stopped obediently.
“I don’t want to have to call Ink! I want to be able to stop him! To stop Nightmare! I can’t do it. I’m too weak.” The defeat in his voice made Cross’s soul sink into the pit of his stomach.
“Dream…” He slowly inched forward, then thought ‘to hell with it’ and sank to his knees beside his guardian, pulling him into a tight embrace.
Almost immediately, Dream broke out of his curled position and sprang into his chest, wailing and sobbing from once again failing to prevent one of his brother’s tirades. Deep down, he knew it was Error, who was a wild card on the best of days. Nightmare would have never killed off an entire AU. He always preferred to let the universe suffer as a whole so he could feed off the energy.
But rational thinking didn’t do anyone any good when they were upset.
Cross could feel the front of his shirt beginning to dampen with the guardian’s tears and it only made him clutch him tighter. If he could, he would squeeze out all of the sadness and regret he could feel coming off him. Better yet, he would go find Nightmare and either kick his ass all the way to Glitchtale or he’d reach into him and pull Dream’s true brother out himself.
Instead, all he could do was let Dream cling to him and work through his emotions. He rubbed the guardian’s back, slowly but with a sure and steady hand, feeling the heaves and sob beginning to slow down.
He pulled back, tilting Dream’s head up so their eyes met for a brief pause. Cross wasn’t always good with words and quite frankly, he sometimes botched the whole thing and made the situation worse. He was clumsy and brash and sometimes unsure of himself, but he was sure of his love for Dream and in the skeleton the guardian was, knowing he was perfect beyond compare no matter what happened.
The royal guard slowly bent his head down, pressing his mouth to Dream’s cheek, catching a tear just as it fell. He moved to the other cheek, lovingly touching the zygomatic bone, leaving a trail of hot kisses down the guardian’s face. Then Cross kissed his forehead, letting himself linger there as the taste of salt melted on the tip of his tongue.
When he pulled back, Dream stared at him, his eyes tired but bright, looking at him with the warmth of a thousand suns. Cross might have wilted under his gaze if he hadn’t been staring down at him with the same look, though maybe with a touch more adoration.
“Dream…” he slowly began but the guardian simply shook his head.
“Don’t…” he whispered, though it was a gentle warning, meant to let Cross know he was okay with staying silent.
Dream softly cupped Cross’s face in his hands, studying him as one does the Mona Lisa. He smiled; exhausted and spent but slowly being revived by his royal guard’s unfettered love for him. He was a spring flower that had been caught in a thunderstorm only to feel the refreshing downpour when the eye of the storm had passed.
Cross leaned against his hands, moving his own to cover the guardian’s. He smiled; soft and resplendent, one he only let Dream see.
And then Dream could no longer deny himself and moved forward, covering Cross’s mouth with his own, shutting his eyes so he could bask in the wonder that was kissing him, in tasting him, in knowing he was loved without condition. He thought he had found refuge by going into the smallest, darkest part of their house, but he realized he had needed to go home, and home was a monochrome symphony of love and splendor.
He slowly pulled back, pressing their foreheads together in a final act of affection.
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