rivals duo spooktacular!!
@simplepotatofarmer
full moon / long walk at midnight
u can also find this on ao3 :D
There’s a puppy in the yard.
Calling it a puppy might be generous, considering it’s more like—a massive fucking dog, one that Dream isn’t entirely sure is a dog at all, really.
It howls, and howls, and howls.
It’s the middle of winter, the sharpest a season can get this far, so close to the tundra but not quite there, yet, and Dream is shut tight in his hut-almost-a-home—the moon is high and big, and the weather is cold and stormy, and Dream does not care about creatures in the moonlight that make noises.
(his side is wounded, already, with splinters sticking to his skin, from an earlier encounter with a zombie that went terribly for all participants, but Dream came out on top, so that’s all that really matters.)
The… thing whines. Pitiful, and unbearably loud, and Dream’s ears twitch and lower like it’ll hide him from the noise.
Scratches against his front door, and he grits his teeth and reaches for his sword. Nightmare glistens in the torchlight, and his dogged determination doesn’t allow his hands to shake.
He was almost pretty sure he knew every single creature this server had to offer, but, clearly, he missed something. Someone. He frowns, a little, at the door, and the wolf’s nails rake down the wood again. Dream cringes away from it—the sound too loud, even louder, too bone-grinding.
He presses himself and Nightmare against the furthest wall, keeps himself ready and alert.
It doesn’t take long, but it somehow still takes Dream by surprise—
The door splinters with this loud kind of noise, and the beast bounds inside quick enough that Dream’s swing misses when its natural bounce makes the creature be lower than Dream thought it would be.
Shit.
He’ll die here, and he almost finds it entirely stupid.
Seconds later, his eyes are closed, and, somehow, he isn’t dead yet.
A whine.
Dream cracks an eye slightly open, like it’ll change the situation but—
The great big beast—it looks slightly pink in colour, but it’s hard to tell under the moonlight, since all his torches went out at the gust of wind—is laying down on the ground, its snout atop its legs, and it almost looks… cowed. Like Dream reacting with fear was not its intent.
He dry swallows. Looks properly at the beast.
“What the fuck?” he asks, only a little hysterical. Another whine, a nudge of the snout against the ground, unblinking red eyes staring up at him. “What the fuck is going on?”
Dream blinks, and the beast blinks back, deliberately.
It… almost looks… familiar.
(afterimages of someone he knows-doesn’t-does, a shaking head and hearty laughs, soft teasing and a sharp mind.)
No, that’s an insane thought to have, this thing just broke open his damn door—exactly nothing about it is familiar, much less cute.
It shifts forwards, a little. Whines. A short soft of woof at the movement, after, like it pains it to move.
“This is weird,” he states, either at the beast or at himself, he’s not sure which is better and which is worse, at this point. “Really—really weird.”
He crouches down, thinking himself stupid and doing it anyways. The beast moves even further, and Dream’s eyes strain in the moonlight, but there’s a very clear dark shade matting its side, dripping into the floor.
“You’re injured?” he asks it, and swears it nods back at him.
He bites at his lower lip, frowns.
“Stay there.”
The beast doesn’t move when Dream stands up, when he lights up all the torches again, and takes in how truly massive the creature is, and how its seeping blood into his wooden floors, when he rummages around the chests in search for what he needs.
He isn’t entirely sure wolves can swallow potions, or if potions even work on them, but that’s basically all he has to offer, so he has to at least try.
His bare feet against the floor send shivers up and down his spine, as the lack of door makes the temperature fall severely. He returns to the beast, carefully, aware of its eyes on him.
Moves towards its flank, and presses his hand just outside the wound. Its fur is warm, and it doesn’t even threaten him, so he’s already doing superb at this whole thing, really.
He bites at his lower lip, carefully tips the potion over the wound, and waits for the worst.
The regeneration potion works quickly—the beast’s skin is pink and furless for a few seconds, before its hair grows back and hides away the injury like it never existed. He runs a finger through the fur, against the skin, without thinking.
The wolf huffs at him, shakes itself a little, and Dream reminds himself. Takes his hand away like it has been burned.
“I helped you,” he tells its fur, before he looks it in the eye, its snout turned down towards Dream. “So you can’t kill me. You can’t—you can’t even hurt me. That’d be—like, insensitive, or something.”
One of its paws connects with his own paw, and he remembers how cold he is, to the very pads of his toes and up and over. Shivers, a little, as heat transfer from its paw to him.
He stands up. Stares across the room at where his door used to be. Then at the wolf on his floor. Frowns at him, his ears pressed tight against his face.
“You broke my door.” he tells the best, annoyed in more ways than just one. The thing huffs at him, which he deems to mean it doesn’t care, and closes its eyes. “It’s cold.”
It cracks its eye open at Dream, seems almost mocking, before it leans sideways. Exposes its belly. Nearly-humanly motions towards the space it leaves free, as it curls a little, between its head and its hind paws.
(what does he do with that show of trust? Sudden, unexpected, he has been waiting for the teeth in his throat for the better part of the last few minutes, and he gets a show of trust, instead?)
They both stare at each other for too long—
The beast grows tired of waiting, and stands on slightly-shaking legs. It pads its way to Dream, carefully and slowly, makes negligent the distance Dream had put between them as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t get his head chewed off.
It sits down in front of him.
Lays down, next, and curls and curls, until Dream’s struggling to keep his balance so he won’t fall on top of it.
(this is ridiculous, and it’s almost worrying that Dream is going along with this at all and in any way, shape, and form.)
He’s forced to fall, either way, half across its soft side, half on the cool wood. His face scrunches at the distinct wet dog smell that hits his nose, but he can’t deny the amount of heat this wolf gives off.
“You’re still in trouble,” he states as he makes himself comfortable, curls up on his side, staring at the creature’s snout and finding it doubly familiar, by now, but it never quite strikes the right name.
The beast huffs at him in response, and Dream swears he means to say something back, but his eyes feel heavy and his head lethargic and—
Sleep overtakes him, warm as he is, with the beast’s steady breathing under him, with the light wind that flutters inside the hut and dies out, with his face buried into soft fur and a fluffy tail to wrap his arms around.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
When he wakes up in the morning, what’s wrapped around him isn’t fur anymore, but a distinctively humanoid kind of thing, that Dream squints at until it takes the shape of Technoblade.
He sighs, checks that the wound isn’t rebleeding—or, more accurately, suddenly and magically there, all over again—and falls back asleep. He’ll yell at Techno in the morning.
