Archive of Our Own

Dream was lucky. He discovered his familiar at a very young age. Patches, a brown tabby cat with white patches across her coat, was what supplied power to his spells, her presence boosting his ability to perform magic. Without her, he was sure it would have taken him many more years to achieve his high rank among the city magicians, one of the most reputable necromancers in Essempi.

Necromancy was a slippery slope of controversy, but Dream was pretty sure most people looked up to his chosen path within the art. He didn’t bring people back as a rule, unwilling to drag himself into that discourse. Instead, he brought back pets, and even then he didn’t bring them back as shambling corpses.

No; Dream specialized in ghosts.

“What was his name?” Dream asked as he walked around the room, setting up the requirements for the spell. An arrangement of five candles, capstones on a star traced out in chalk on the ground. In the center, an empty fishbowl, a small toy that was supposedly based on the fish he was reviving, and a small folded-up note.

“Beckerson,” the man replied. “His name was Beckerson.”

Dream nodded, turning to his spellbook. He picked up a long needle, pricking his fingertip until it bled, and dripped the blood into an inkwell to mix with his ink. He could feel the man’s gaze on his back, watching the liquids swirl around each other behind the glass. The red was consumed quickly by the black ink, disappearing from sight as Dream stirred the inkwell with the same needle.

“I don’t get fish requested much,” Dream said, tapping the needle clean and placing it to the side. He dipped the end of a feather quill into the inkwell, wetting the nib with the blood ink. He pushed up the bone mask that he wore over his face with his other hand, licking the rest of the blood off of his fingertip. “Must have been well-loved.”

He fixed his mask before turning back to the man. His name was George Notfound, he had introduced himself as such earlier, and he was pretty in a way that made Dream fully stop when he entered the shop. Short brown hair that fluffed up on the top, delicate features like a magazine model, and skin pale enough to be porcelain, George walked like he was above everyone else. He was, Dream was sure he was. It took him a minute to pick his jaw up off the floor after seeing him, thankful for the bone mask hiding the expression.

“He was my husband’s fish,” George explained, pulling Dream back to reality. He turned his gaze away from Dream and to the fishbowl instead, the water drained but the bottom was still lined with rocks. George had hurried to explain that there was a full 30-gallon tank at home and that this was just the travel and quarantine tank for when the fish were sick. Dream had just nodded, too unsure about fish care to have much of a reply. Beckerson wouldn’t need it once he was back anyways.

“Bringing him to surprise your hubby then?” Dream walked back to the circle as he wrote in his spellbook. Not for the first time, he wished that he could use a normal pen rather than his quill. He supposed he could, realistically, but it didn’t look half as good and he was too committed now to drop the inkwell act. He wrote out Beckerson’s name in neat cursive, filling in a blank of a pre-prepared revival spell, and set the book down next to one of the candles.

“No,” George said simply, posture tensing, and suddenly it clicked in Dream’s head. George was dressed in all black, stared at the fishbowl like it was a long-lost family member, was reviving a fish.

George’s husband was dead.

Dream politely averted his eyes back to the spellbook, dropping that topic. “We’ve already gone over the details of this spell, but I will give one last reminder. If you want to change your mind now, you may, but this will be your last chance.”

George nodded.

“The fish’s spirit will come back as a ghost. Though he will no longer need water or any food to survive, he will probably still swim around in his fish tank from familiarity. Same thing for sleeping; he won’t need it, but he might sleep just because it’s hard-wired in him. If he’s smart, you can train him to follow you instead, though fish do not usually know they can.”

“Beckerson is an incredibly smart fish,” George said defensively. “He would always follow me when I walked by his tank.”

“Then maybe he’ll follow you now,” Dream conceded, trying not to smile at the man’s insistence. It felt cruel to find it amusing when he was clearly grieving something more than just a fish, but the defensiveness was as sweet as it was funny. “He will be able to swim through the air. Nothing alive can touch him besides a necromancer, though other ghosts will be able to. They will not be able to harm him, however, but ghost animals might chase him. Cats come to mind.”

“There aren’t many ghosts in my apartment building, it’ll be alright,” George said primly.

“The spell may be disturbing to you. Ghosts will be in the room, many more than the one we are trying to retrieve. Anyone who has passed away and wants to come back will be able to enter this room, and while I can prevent them from escaping, the visuals may be disarming. You have to be in the room to tempt Beckerson in, but you may close your eyes if you need to.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. It may be interesting to see, I’m not easily scared.” George sat up. “I understand what will happen. I want my fish back.”

“Alright.” Dream straightened his posture as well with a nod. “Then let’s begin.”

The spell was simple. He tore out the page with the spell’s intentions and folded it in half, burning every corner of the page on one candle. When he reached the last candle, he lit the center, and the entire page was engulfed in flames. George watched with wide eyes, the light reflecting off of his eyes as the page disintegrated between Dream’s fingers. He noticed that George was heterochromatic then shook off the observation, beginning to recite the spell aloud. It was Latin, something he struggled to pronounce when he first started. Now, he had the words memorized. He could feel Patches brush between his ankles, his body bursting with energy as she contributed her power, and the room began to dance with the souls of the dead. Dark magic seemed to peel off of his body, wafting around the room in thick black clouds and mixing with the dark shadows that formed in every corner.

Dream was a talented conductor of souls. He had been doing this long enough to easily keep the ghosts at bay, writhing in the shadows around the room. He reached one hand forward as Patches slipped away to attend to the ghosts ringing the room, scanning the crowd for the one he was looking for. Finally, he felt a twinge in his gut and he crooked his finger, calling forward the ghost he was looking for.

A fish swam through the air, twirling around his hand and brushing against him. It was a large tropical fish, translucent orange with white and black stripes. A clownfish, Dream knew enough about fish to know that. As George said, it acted like a smart fish, bumping against his fingers before it seemed to notice George and jettison over to him. Dream smiled as George startled from where he was staring intently at the ghosts on the wall, blinking in surprise before his face lit up in delight.

It was the first time the entire meeting that George seemed happy, a toothy grin on his face as he nuzzled against his fish. Beckerson bounced against his nose and George giggled as the ghost phased the slightest bit through him before swimming back.

Dream waved his arms in a grand sweep and the room flooded with light again, the ghosts against the wall disappearing. He glanced back to where Patches was sniffing at one lingering spirit, hissing as the apparition vanished. He frowned at the unusual behavior, George’s voice cutting through his worry.

“I think she knows that that was my husband,” George said, mostly back to his flat expression. The corners of his lips tilted up, just the barest hint of a smile at his fish. “I figured Sapnap would be around if I summoned Beckerson back. I’m stealing his fish from him and all. He already has Mars though, I can’t lose all three of them.”

“Spirits of loved ones do often appear in these rituals. If it helps, he may have been looking for you instead,” Dream said softly, trying to be reassuring. He sighed, turning to close his spellbook before he paused. “Wait. Who do you mean by ‘she’?”

“Your cat,” George replied easily, looking at him with a confused look. “She’s been in the room the entire time, did you not notice her?”

Dream stared at him.

“Patches is my familiar,” he said slowly. Realization dawned on George’s face as well, his eyes going wide.

Familiars were only visible to very certain people. The magician themself, of course, could see their familiar. Family members that were blood-related could also see the familiar, though that was only direct family. Other than that connection, the only other way to see a magician’s familiar was to mix your blood (something banned for sanitary reasons)… or be their soulmate.

Soulmates were people placed on Earth who were cut from the same swath of soul as you, or so the legends went, usually just one though a bond could encompass multiple people. Soulmates were historically a romantic relation, though in modern times, they were regarded more as just an important figure. Though many people sought out their soulmates with all of their being, for the most part, they were seen as a fun but unnecessary person to meet one day. Someone who would understand you at your deepest level, who could read into your every move. Someone who knew more about you than they necessarily should, like they were blessed with extra insight into your very essence. You didn’t need them in your life, but it was reassuring when they were there. A best friend, a lover, even a rival or enemy that could hit you at your softest spot, they knew you better than anyone by instinct.

Dream pushed his mask up over his hair so that he could make eye contact more directly with George, both of them silent as they processed the realization. If George was eye-catching before, he was rendered divine in Dream’s eyes now. His soulmate was someone he always wanted to find, seeking out various spells and tricks to finding them. Eventually, as attempt after attempt failed, he put that goal on the back burner. The trick to soulmate spells was that all parts of the bond had to be looking. It was clear that his soulmate didn’t want to be found, and he wasn’t going to push that. Now, he had practically fallen into Dream’s lap, with a deceased lover that explained why the seeking spells never worked.

Beckerson swam through the air around George’s head and Patches slunk forward to paw at George’s lap, her eyes caught on Beckerson. George finally broke the eye contact to look down at her, reaching out to scoop her into his arms, and a tingle ran down Dream’s spine.

“That doesn’t make sense,” George murmured. “I already found my soulmate. All the spells we did said so. Sapnap was my soulmate.”

“People can have more than one soulmate,” Dream started but George stood suddenly, letting Patches jump out of his arms. She padded back to Dream’s ankles, weaving herself around them.

“My soulmate is gone. Thank you, Dream, for your assistance with my fish. I wish to pay and leave now.”

“George,” Dream said, feeling his heart crack as George’s expression hardened.

“I’m gonna pay and leave.”

Dream did not bring people back. It was against his morals. Even if a ghost wanted to come back, even if someone else wanted them back, it was wrong. Too messy, too many factors. Animals didn’t have rights that they would lose, and most of the time, they were barely smart enough to realize they were dead at all. People were intelligent and all too aware of everything they lost. Dream had vanished his fair share of ghosts in his early days before he was well-known and popular enough to start denying any job relating to people. Ghosts got bitter, arguments started, and suddenly everyone wanted them back to the spirit realm. Sometimes, this was a peaceful second passing. Other times, Dream had to work around one last argument, watch tears flow as the ghost vanished one last time.

Reviving people was against his morals. He would never wish that against someone.

Patches meowed and pressed against his ankles as he thumbed the pages of his spellbook, staring at the summoning spell he had open on his desk.

“It wouldn’t be bringing him back for good,” Dream explained to Patches, leaning down to pick her up in his arms. He pressed her back to his chest, her little legs sticking out over his own. “It would just be one conversation. I just want to see who he was. If he’s George’s soulmate, then he should be mine as well. Maybe he’ll know how I can reach out to George.”

Patches mewled.

“I know, it’s stupid, but I’m experienced. It’ll be fine.” He nuzzled into the top of her soft head, the fur tickling his nose. “Nothing can go wrong when you’re around, huh Patchy?”

She started wriggling and he put her down on his desk, giving her a good vantage point of the spell he had set up on the floor. The same star formation as before, now with runes written along the lines. Summoning intelligent life was a lot more complicated than a fish or even - Patches forgive him for the implications - a cat or dog. He also needed a binding spell, preventing the ghost from leaving the apartment, so there was an additional round of runes. He struggled to find meaningful objects, considering he had never met Sapnap, so he settled for personal belongings of his own.

His bone mask, one he had made himself to hide his face during his early more controversial jobs. It had grown to be his trademark, the smiley face he had drawn on it traced out in neon on his building’s front. A pile of Patches’ toys, because as his familiar, she was what was dearest to his heart. A photo of him and his family, because personal relationships were helpful for summonings. The money he had received yesterday from George, hoping the man’s lingering essence may tempt Sapnap forward. And finally, a lighter. He didn’t know why he felt that was necessary for the spell, but it had caught his eye on his kitchen counter and he trusted his gut.

He used the blood ink from George’s spell. He only really made more during work for the theatrics, giving his clients a show. Even old ink worked, it just had to be imbued with his blood, his life force, to lend some of that power to the spirit he was summoning.

The spell went by quickly, as familiar as the back of his hand. When he looked up, the walls danced with death, and in the circle before him stood a man. He was just shorter than George was, hair dark with similar charcoal eyes. It was hard to make out his exact coloring, being partially see-through, but he seemed to have a light tan similar to Dream’s own with ruddy cheeks. Stubble decorated his jaw and Dream swallowed hard. He was handsome, notably so. Painfully so.

“Hey,” he greeted, blinking at Dream. “Can I help you?”

Dream did not send Sapnap back. He kept telling Patches he would soon, but then Sapnap would grin at him and suddenly he needed another few days with the ghost hanging around. It had already been a week and a half and somehow, his life was all Sapnap. Sapnap when he woke up, Sapnap whenever he took a break from work, Sapnap before he went to bed at night. He was enamored, fully and completely, with his second soulmate, and Sapnap knew it.

“George hasn’t gotten back to you yet?” Sapnap asked when Dream came into the kitchen, sitting on the counter and kicking his legs. It was midday, Dream shutting down business for a couple of hours to take lunch. Usually, he’d sit in his parlor for his meal just in case of any walk-ins, but ever since Sapnap arrived, he’d been taking longer and longer breaks in the apartment over his shop.

“No. I think he’s ignoring my letters.”

“He’s a little bitch like that, I would know,” Sapnap agreed. He leaned forward when Patches padded into the room after Dream, his eyes lighting up. “Hi, Patches! Hi baby! Come here, girl, cuddles!”

“She can’t even touch you,” Dream pointed out, fondness flooding in his chest as he watched his familiar walk to Sapnap’s side and jump up next to him.

“She should be able to. What’s the point of being your soulmate if I can’t cuddle your familiar?” Sapnap pouted, waving his hand over Patches’ head in a phantom pet. She purred all the same.

“That’s not something I can fix, don’t get mad at me about it,” Dream shot back. He walked over to the counter, starting to put together a simple sandwich for his lunch. Sapnap whined wordlessly and Dream rolled his eyes, dropping his ingredients and shuffling over to kiss Sapnap’s forehead. “Is that what you wanted?”

“I want a kiss on the lips,” Sapnap said, smirking, and Dream flushed red.

Dream and Sapnap clicked. It made sense, they were soulmates, but it still took Dream by surprise just how familiar he felt. Coming home to Sapnap haunting his apartment was both exciting and comforting, a warmth that he hadn’t felt since he was a kid running home to his mom after a bad day at school. Sapnap was affectionate almost as soon as Dream explained their connection, clinging to him whenever Dream let him and flirting excessively. When he softened and told stories from when he was alive, mostly about George, he seemed to be about the same with their shared soulmate.

George and Sapnap met when they were both in high school, George a senior and Sapnap a junior. Their school ran an event where love magicians could test the students to find their soulmate and they both happened to sign up. They were the only soulmate pair at their school that discovered each other from that event and Sapnap clung to George immediately, managing to talk him into them dating within two days. They were high school sweethearts, utterly enamored with each other and never even considering the fact that they might have another soulmate out there. It explained why Dream’s spells were never successful in the past. And also why he felt so guilty intruding now.

“You know why I won’t do that,” he muttered.

“I was kidding. I still think you’re being stupid though, George wouldn’t care.” Sapnap waved him off and Dream went back to putting together his sandwich. “You’re our soulmate and also so totally my type. I would literally dump him for you.”

“Don’t say that, it makes me feel like shit.” Dream finished his sandwich and went on to his next one.

“Still kidding.”

“I’m sure.”

Sapnap sighed. “Sorry. I don’t wanna hurt Gogy’s feelings either, I just miss him. I wish he would just respond to you already. Are you sure we can’t just go to my house? Just let go of this binding spell and force him to talk to us? If he saw me, he’d come out.”

“I don’t want him to call the cops on me for like, stalking. Besides, I don’t want people to, like…” Dream waved his hand and Sapnap nodded.

“Don’t want people to know you revived a person. I get it.”

“You’re not fully revived.” Dream finished putting together his second sandwich, staring at them for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sapnap shrug. “You’re summoned. It’s different than a full revival. You’re not a zombie.”

“Well, you’re not sending me back, so it might as well be a revival.”

“I’m going to send you back!” Dream turned back to Sapnap, who just smirked at him. “I will. I wouldn’t do that to you, you’re not stuck here. As soon as you say the word, I’ll release you.”

“But I don’t want you to. Not until you’ll kiss me.” Sapnap winked and Dream stuck his tongue out at him. “That’s my unfinished business, locking lips with the second most attractive man I’ve ever seen.”

“You have a husband,” Dream pointed out.

“And that’s why George is the first most attractive man I’ve ever seen!” Sapnap threw his arms out with a goofy grin as Dream started eating his food. They fell silent for a moment, Dream moving to eat on the counter next to Sapnap. The ghost hooked his leg around Dream’s waist, tugging him closer, and Dream shuffled to stand between his legs even as he rolled his eyes again.

It was so hard to deny Sapnap anything. Every time he asked for a kiss, Dream could feel his will dissolving and he felt evil for it. He wouldn’t kiss Sapnap without George’s permission, no matter how many times Sapnap fumblingly explained how little George would care. It felt different, kissing Sapnap when George didn’t even know he was back, especially after Dream saw the sheer joy George felt just seeing Sapnap’s fish again. Dream didn’t care if Sapnap swore it didn’t matter, he needed George’s permission. It didn’t stop Dream from crumbling to all of Sapnap’s other requests; letting Sapnap drape himself across his lap, opening his bed to Sapnap to sleep in during the night, caving enough to even kiss him on the forehead or the cheek.

Platonically. It was platonic. He wouldn’t do that without George’s permission.

From downstairs, his doorbell chimed as someone entered the shop. Sapnap grumbled in complaint, letting his head fall onto Dream’s shoulder. Dream held still, listening and chewing his sandwich slowly.

“Hello?” drifted up from downstairs. Sapnap jerked upright, eyes going wide.

“George,” he breathed and Dream dropped his sandwich back to the counter, pulling away from the ghost. There was the sound of footsteps reaching the bottom of the stairs up to his apartment, where he had left the door open.

“The letters said you had to show me something,” George called up the stairs. “How did you get my address?”

“Come on up,” Dream yelled in response. “I… I think you’ll understand.”

“Dream, that’s George,” Sapnap said, voice still soft so it didn’t carry.

“You can go say hi if you want, but you can’t-” Before Dream could finish, Sapnap jumped off the counter and ran off into the next room. “-touch him.”

“George!”

“SAPNAP!”

Dream hadn’t heard George’s voice pitch up like that the first time they met, shrill and too thrilled to even explain. The two started talking at each other excitedly as he walked out of the kitchen, taking in the sight of them. George’s hands grabbed at the air, desperately trying to grab Sapnap while the ghost explained how he was back and what he had been doing that week. When the two realized he had joined them, Sapnap bounced back to his side, clutching onto his arm.

“Dream! Dream, come here.”

“How come you can touch him?” George asked and Dream winced.

“Like I said when I brought back Beckerson. Necromancers can touch ghosts.” Dream carefully wound an arm around Sapnap’s shoulders, trying to give him the contact Sapnap craved without being too affectionate. George’s eyes lingered on where their skin connected anyways.

“Can you teach George?” Sapnap shook his arm, eyes alight with excitement. “Would Patches be able to lend her power to him as well?”

“That’s not…” Dream trailed off, looking at Sapnap’s expression.

He was clearly bursting with excitement at the thought of being able to touch George again, bouncing on his heels. He looked at their other soulmate, trying to escape his puppy eyes, and was met with the single most hopeful expression he had ever seen. Heart-broken and relieved all at once, George’s eyes pleaded just as much as Sapnap’s, and Dream caved as he always did.

“Yeah. Yes, George, I can teach you necromancy.”

Magical lessons were… slow.

Though Patches couldn’t lend her power to George, she definitely acted like she could, curling up in George’s lap whenever he was sat pouring over one of Dream’s tomes. Sapnap curled up in Dream’s lap in turn, and while the three of them still hadn’t properly talked anything out, Dream felt more at ease when George was clearly aware of what was going on.

Sapnap went home with George now, after Dream released the binding spell on him. Dream pretended that he didn’t feel lonely in his bed at night, just clung tighter to Sapnap whenever he was around.

“How long do I have to train before I can touch my husband?” George asked, shoving the textbook away with a huff. Patches shifted in his lap but didn’t jump out of it, leaning into his hand as George cooed reassuringly down at her.

“‘Once you are able to harness a soul, you can touch death itself’,” Dream quoted from memory.

“Don’t read my own textbook out at me, I’m sick of hearing it.” George scrubbed at his eyes and Sapnap snickered, tucked against Dream’s chest and playing with the collar of his shirt. His touch was cool and the phantom wedding ring brushing against his skin felt like ice. Dream sat still regardless, already used to Sapnap’s frosty touch. “Say something normal and not academic and shit.”

“It’s bound to be hard because you’re jumping in headfirst. I keep telling you, if you started with healing spells, it’d be easier. You’re supposed to learn life magic before you learn death magic. This is taking SATs before taking the FSAs.”

“And I keep telling you, I didn’t grow up in Florida, I don’t know what that means.” George crossed his arms. “I don’t have the time to learn life magic. I just want to touch Sapnap again.”

There was a pause as Sapnap choked down a laugh.

“Not- Not like that,” George said, fumbling to cover his tracks as Dream also started giggling.

“Exactly like that,” Sapnap crowed. He leaned back in Dream’s lap, kicking his legs in the air as Dream shifted to hold him securely. “Georgie is gonna perfect a summoning spell and immediately pin me to-”

“Stop,” George and Dream said in time.

“Buzzkills.” Sapnap pouted and Dream pressed a kiss to his cheek on instinct. Sapnap’s expression melted away into a giggly grin and when Dream looked up, George was frowning at them.

“Dream, what healing spells can you teach me?”

George, to his credit, was an excellent student. He picked up on life magic far faster than Dream ever had, growing plants all over Dream’s apartment from day one. Dream kept every single one, wincing when he came back up from a long day of work and found them withered away.

Death magic had a way of permeating the area and that made it difficult for anything to survive more than one night in Dream’s necromancy shop.

“You can move in with Sapnap and I,” George said one day after Dream complained about another seedling. He poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, waving a hand over the pot he stood over.

Life and healing magic were different than death magic. Of all the magics, death and necromancy had the most runes and circles, calling upon darker forces to enact their ways. It was an art formed to impress, heavy and foreboding with stormy air and a cackle of energy. Life magic was lighter, gentler, and Dream thought it was all the more powerful for that. A soft word and a wave of the hand could summon an entire garden when the correct magician said it. All life magic needed was a calm mind and focus, things George had in spades. Dream was more suited to the chaotic showmanship of necromancy, but it made sense for George to be here, quietly encouraging a plant to bloom. It made sense in Dream’s head, at least, a beautiful image painted against the back of his eyelids.

A green sprout poked through the soil, curling in and over itself as it grew. George murmured Latin from the textbook he had by his side, the sprout shooting up into a full tulip. The petals turned baby pink and unfurled. “Damn. I can’t see this one. What color is it?”

“Blue,” Sapnap answered from where he sat on the counter and George huffed.

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s pink,” Dream corrected.

“Dream!” Sapnap groaned. “Georgie’s right though. You should move in with us, it’s not a long walk from here. I know you like being here just in case, but we can hire someone to set up some sort of magic alarm, alert you whenever someone needs you. It’d be fun!”

“That’s nice, but I can’t,” Dream replied, shaking his head. He frowned down at the food he was preparing, stirring pasta noodles around in tight circles as the water boiled. “I wouldn’t- you guys- it just wouldn’t work.”

“Why not?” George asked. When Dream looked back, he was frowning at him over the tulip, eyes dark and hypnotizing. Dream was silent for a moment, unsure what to say, and George raised an eyebrow. “Dream, I asked you a question.”

“I would be sad once you learned necromancy and I had to move out again. It’d just be easier on all three of us if we didn’t do that,” Dream said honestly, eyes falling back to the stovetop. Sapnap and George were quiet, but he could feel both of them staring at him. The hair on the back of his neck pricked up and in a defense tone that he couldn’t choke down, he said, “food’s ready. Do you want tomato sauce, George, or should I heat up the meat sauce? I only have the canned version, I don’t feel like making sauce right now.”

“We’re soulmates,” George said, slow and quiet.

“I’m aware.” Dream turned off the stovetop heat and moved over to the fridge, opening it and pulling out the jar of meat sauce. As he cracked open the top and dumped it into the pot, realizing a moment too late that he didn’t drain the water, he could hear George standing and walking closer. It still surprised him when George laid a hand on his arm, jumping an inch and spinning to face him.

“I wouldn’t make you move back out,” George said, tightening his grip on Dream’s arm as if he could force him to keep making eye contact. In a way, he could; Dream couldn’t imagine tearing his eyes away from George’s. “We’re soulmates, I’m not asking you to move in because of my magic. I’m asking you to move in because I like having you around and it’s clear that all that necromancy makes this place inhospitable.”

“Patchy and I are fine,” Dream said weakly and George huffed.

“Because you two both bleed death. You’re used to it. My poor plants aren’t, so you’re moving into Sap and I’s place for their sakes.”

“It’ll be just like a sleepover, but every night!” Sapnap chirped. Under both Sapnap’s pleading gaze and George’s stormy insistence, Dream buckled like a house of cards.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll move in.”

George and Sapnap only had one bed and they didn’t seem to have any qualms about pushing Dream into it. He laid between the two, stiff and unsure if he was allowed to touch either of them. Sapnap was already nestled against his back, an arm slung over his waist with his face buried in his neck, so maybe Dream should just turn over and cuddle into Sapnap. Leaving George out like that in his own bed felt cruel though, especially while cuddling his husband. Grabbing George felt presumptuous though, even if they were soulmates-

“You think too hard,” George whispered and Dream realized suddenly that George had rolled over and was facing him. He raised a hand to rest against Dream’s cheek, stroking it with a featherlight touch, and Dream tilted into his hand without thinking. His cheeks burned but George just smiled, a soft look that he had only ever seen directed at Sapnap before. “Hold me?”

“Okay,” Dream said, just as quiet. George leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss against his cheek, at the corner of his mouth, and Dream felt even hotter. George rolled back to his original position, shuffling back until his back pressed into Dream’s chest, and Dream wrapped his arms around George’s waist.

If sleeping with Sapnap’s phantom weight was nice, then sleeping with George, living and warm and present, was heaven. Sandwiched between the two, he felt fantastic, eyes falling shut easily after.

“I’m never going to get this,” George whined, covering his face, and Dream rubbed his back to reassure him. Ever since they started sleeping in the same bed, they had gotten just as touchy as Dream and Sapnap were. Today, they were sat in Dream’s necromancy shop, pouring over textbooks with a small revival circle drawn on the ground. Sapnap had stayed home that day, claiming he was bored of the magic lessons, and Dream honestly didn’t blame him. He knew he wasn’t the best teacher in the world and that George was doing his best, but it was getting frustrating to watch George struggle again and again to revive the mouse that Patches had dragged in for them.

“It helps if you focus on your emotions,” Dream advised, knowing he was being vague but unsure how else to word it. George groaned, slumping forward and glaring daggers at the small star that Dream had walked him through setting up.

Dream pulled all of his power from Patches and from the need to help people. He didn’t think George was quite as passionate as he was for life and considering George didn’t want this as a career path, he probably didn’t have the love for helping people to help him fuel his magic. No, George just wanted to master this spell so that he could touch Sapnap, he didn’t have that deep well of emotion to pull from-

Oh.

“Think about Sapnap,” Dream said. “Think about how much you miss holding his hand and kissing him.”

“I think about that plenty as is,” George growled out and Dream huffed a soft laugh.

“Then this should be easy for you.” He scooted closer to where George was sat on the ground, lowering his voice once their knees tapped together. “Think about all the love you have for your husband. Focus on that love and remind yourself that this mouse is the gateway to you reaching that love again, okay? If you revive this mouse, you can have Sapnap again. You can have our soulmate again.”

George blinked, then quietly said, “okay.”

He closed his eyes, the candles flickering as a glare of concentration formed on his face. In the center of the small circle laid the mouse’s body, limp, and Dream stared at it as a phantom breeze carried over its tiny body.

Reviving a corpse was different than summoning a spirit. It was a simpler process because the spirit had a body to latch onto rather than just a collection of items. There was also less of a chance of conjuring the wrong soul, as it was near impossible for a corpse to be a vessel for anything but its own soul, so there was no need for a letter directed to one particular spirit. There were exceptions - demons and angels came to mind - but if George managed to accidentally summon either of those, honestly, Dream would be more impressed than anything else.

Plus, they could probably bargain with an angel to let George touch Sapnap. Angels were easy to win over with a sob story and George was convincing. Hell, they could even entice a demon into helping, even if that would be a much riskier chance.

The candles flickered again, dimming, and Dream sat straight as his attention was pulled back to the revival. The mouse’s fur was ruffled by a breeze that didn’t exist again, the movement picking up more and more, and Dream held his breath. The room seemed to warp and he could sense the feeling of death, the creeping feeling of something gone wrong entering the room. Though no spirits danced across the walls for this spell, the shadows seemed to turn pitch black and there was the sensation of eyes peering at them. As if the contrast was turned up in the room, George’s skin seemed paler than alabaster and the flames of the candles were paperwhite. They swayed back and forth, the same pace of the wind against the mouse’s fur, and Dream’s eyes were caught when the mouse moved.

The critter’s nose twitched, once, twice, and then all at once, the light came back full force. The shadowy corners lightened, the flames slowed to a normal pace, and there was no phantom breeze through the room. George groaned, opening his eyes, and Dream gave him a grin.

“I didn’t get it,” he said, and Dream ruffled his hair.

“But you were close! You got so close, it was actually stirring this time and everything!” Dream adjusted his position to press close to George’s side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “You’ve got this, alright? You’ll get this in no time. We just got to keep focusing on what worked this go around.”

“Focusing on Sapnap,” George translated. Dream nodded.

“Just focus on our soulmate.”

Dream and Sapnap’s first kiss wasn’t noteworthy. It was sweet and Dream’s heart tittered, but he was so used to his lips on Sapnap that it felt like any other day. It took him turning around and seeing George for it to even register what had happened. George stared at them with wide eyes and Dream’s hand drifted up to his mouth, feeling them as if he could still feel the cold press of Sapnap’s lips against his. Their household kitchen was silent, Sapnap wearing a smug grin from his usual position on the counter. Dream felt increasingly antsy as George’s face formed into a glare. Patches stood by George’s feet, glancing between the three men curiously.

“I- I’m so sorry, George, I didn’t- I should have asked-!” Dream stuttered out and George stormed across the kitchen. Dream flinched back, ready to get hit, and his eyes flew open when George instead pulled him into a kiss of his own. He could hear the click of Patches’ nails against the ground as she slipped out of the room, clearly tired of their drama while Sapnap snickered.

“I can’t believe I won,” Sapnap boasted from behind them and Dream realized that they must have been competing over this when George pulled away with an even deeper glare. “No, wait, I can, because I’m so much better than you. Suck it, Gogy.”

“I bet I kiss better,” George shot back. He looked up at Dream, wearing that look that won him anything he wanted. “Dream, I kiss better than Sapnap, right?”

“Yes?”

“DREAM!”

“Poor baby,” George murmured to the cat Dream laid in the center of the revival circle. “I can’t believe those assholes just drove off.”

“People are horrible,” Dream agreed, scratching at the cat’s head. The body was still warm, the cat having passed away as George scooped it up off the street. The cat didn’t seem severely injured, not outwardly anyway, though its leg was twisted the wrong way. That probably just meant the internal injuries were even worse. Dream felt sick. “Do you think you can do this? I can revive the cat and then you can heal it afterward, it’s okay. Saving a cat from a car accident is different than some mouse Patches dragged in.”

“I want to at least try.” George looked down at the cat for another moment, troubled, then shook his head. George had always loved cats and this job seemed to affect him more than the mice and voles he had been practicing on before. It was almost sweet to see George so concerned, but Dream’s own churning stomach killed the fondness. “Come on, give me the matches and I’ll light the candles.”

Dream nodded, handing over the box and settling himself against the wall. He felt bad, sat so far away from George, but looking at the dead cat was unsettling. He was familiar with death - any necromancer worth their salt had a massive list of various animals they had revived over their career - but cats always affected him. It was common for magicians to feel especially connected to the species that their familiar belonged to, and he tended to blame the sensitivity on that. Maybe he was a softie, but it was for good reason.

Patches curled up in his lap rather than George’s this time, seeming to realize he needed support, and he rested his hand on her soft fur.

“I’m beginning now,” George warned, looking back at him. Dream nodded. George turned back to the star of candles, his eyes falling closed. He started speaking under his breath, the Latin familiar to Dream’s ears, and the room filled with shadow.

The air felt charged this time and Dream watched George intently. He had a determined set to his jaw, tense and unyielding, and the spell’s magic seemed to spew off of him with the words he spoke. The cat’s fur fluttered, shifting in the imaginary breeze, but Dream couldn’t look away from his soulmate as he performed the spell. The phantom wind rustled through his hair as well now and Dream sat up straight. The spell fully engulfed George, the creeping swirls of death magic sweeping out of the shadows and curling black smoke around George’s body.

Being on this side of the spell was alarming. It wasn’t something Dream had never seen before, having trained under other necromancers, but it felt different to watch a person he loved consumed by the dark tendrils. The room’s contrast strengthened, George’s skin pale and his hair blending into the blackness of the far wall, and all at once, the candles extinguished.

There was silence for a moment, the room plunged into complete darkness, then an unfamiliar meow. The candles came back to life, the light fully filling the room with no more dark looming corners, and the cat sprawled across the revival circle was struggling to right itself.

“George,” Dream breathed.

George’s eyes flew open, looking at the cat in front of him. It meowed again, more pained now, and George’s hands flew out instinctively. He began murmuring again, the syllables softer than the revival’s chanting, and the cat’s leg pulled itself back into place. He began stroking its fur, still speaking gently to it, and it seemed to gain energy under his touch. Its tail began flicking back and forth, the poor thing’s mewls grew less and less pained, and after a moment, it stood up, pressing into George’s hands.

He smiled, pleased with himself, then collapsed backward into unconsciousness.

“Are you sure he’s alright, Dream? He’s been out for so long now.” Sapnap frowned, running his fingers through George’s hair. Dream focused on the novelty of that. He was able to watch Sapnap play with their soulmate’s hair. He was sitting next to their bed, hunched forward to fuss over George while Dream sat in the chair by the door, watching them. Patches was curled up against George’s side and the cat George had revived was in Dream’s lap. He had tried to release it after the revival, just in case it had a family to return to, but it had followed George loyally instead, meowing up a storm when Dream closed the front door on it.

“When I performed my first necromancy spell, I was knocked out for 12 hours. George has been out for 10, he’ll probably be back with us soon.” Dream gave Sapnap a reassuring smile, petting the revived cat’s back as they spoke. It purred gently. “We need to be patient, okay?”

“I’m not good at patience,” Sapnap grumbled.

“You never were,” George said, exhaustion clear in his voice, and both Sapnap and Dream jumped. The cat leaped from his lap with a disgruntled meow, slipping from the room, and Patches followed with only a pinch more grace.

“George!” Sapnap cheered, leaning closer, and George groaned. “You’re awake!”

“I’m awake. My head is killing me, move so I can sit up.” He feebly shoved at Sapnap’s shoulder and the ghost obeyed. He sat up slowly, his fingers catching in Sapnap’s sleeve. They made eye contact as George shook his head, trying to reorientate himself, and George’s breath caught in his throat.

“You can touch me,” Sapnap said, voice quiet as his smile softened, and George nodded.

“I can touch you.” His grip tightened on Sapnap’s sleeve, tugging it, and he leaned in. George rushed forward and kissed him deeply, his other hand coming up to cup Sapnap’s cheek, and the ghost melted into his touch.

Dream almost felt like he was invading their tender moment, but he would give anything to be watching his soulmates finally have their reunion. They were both handsome beyond belief, but together, lips locked and desperately pressing into each other’s space like they only needed each other to survive, they were a masterpiece. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted to, overly aware of every minute detail. George’s wedding ring glinting against Sapnap’s translucent cheek, Sapnap’s hands coming up to cling to George’s shoulders, the softest scratch of Sapnap’s stubble against George’s jaw. It was all entrancing and Dream whined, the noise nearly silent. George and Sapnap pulled away like it was louder than a gunshot, turning to look at him.

He opened his mouth to apologize.

“Do not say sorry,” George beat him to the punch and Sapnap gestured him over with one hand.

“Come here, Dreamie, I owe you a few thousand kisses for this.” Sapnap grinned and Dream stood up.

“Not if I can kiss him a few thousand times first,” George said, raising his eyebrows at Sapnap, and he scoffed.

“Please. You won’t be able to keep your hands off of me long enough.”

“Is that a bet?”

Dream chuckled at their theatrics, crossing the room to sit with his new forever.