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There were days, most days, in fact, where Tommy was ready to throw the towel in. It was not a rare occasion, it was never a surprise. Just a simple, quiet resignation to how things were now. He was tired, most days. Ready to give up and do whatever made Dream hurt him less. It was cowardice, he thought. But he didn't care. Most days, this horrible, twisting terror in his chest was more than enough to silence any complaints his mind had, stifling any protests that dared to rise to the surface. Being docile was not something he was used to. But he was willing to try, because being docile resulted in less bruises, less scars, and less being locked away in a tiny obsidian box for days on end. It was easier, he found, those days when he decided to act the way Dream wanted him to act, it was easier, and he knew that was the point; Dream was essentially training him like a fucking dog, and Tommy could either roll over and take the blows, or he could fight back. Neither of those options were particularly great. So it was only natural that he chose the least painful one most of the time, the one that ensured he wouldn't get hurt.
Then, there were other days. Days like this one. Where Tommy did not fucking care.
He had been quiet enough, good enough, that Dream had left him unattended in the house. He knew Tommy wasn't going to try and leave - no matter how pissed off he was, no matter how done he was, he wouldn't ever try something like that again. The consequences were severe enough the first time, and Tommy wasn't eager to go through that again. Dream trusted him that much, he supposed. And for some reason… it was that thought alone that sent his blood boiling.
So Tommy did what he knew damn well he wasn't supposed to do; he stayed inside, like Dream wanted. He stayed inside, pulling a book off the shelf that he knew he wasn't supposed to touch, and he settled down on the couch he knew he wasn't supposed to sit on, and waited for Dream.
He had no good reason for pushing these limits he already knew he had. He knew where the line was, for the most part. He knew what buttons he couldn't push. Really, it was just a matter of him being completely, utterly, one-hundred-percent done with Dream's shit. Fear pounded in his chest, and his heart stuttered with every word he read, every breath he took, every second that ticked by - but he wanted to prove to Dream, and to himself, for that matter, that he wasn't going to give in so easily. Even though he wanted to, sometimes. Even though he knew it would be easier to just roll over and take the blows, to be the obedient little puppy that Dream wanted. That would be easier, yes. But his pride wouldn't stand for it today. He wasn't rolling over today.
He was halfway through the book, something about Greek Mythology…
The door opened. Dream's voice called out, "Tommy, I'm home."
Tommy's blood ran cold.
To be completely fucking honest, if Dream wasn't faster than he was, if he hadn't entered the room before Tommy could even think to close the book and scramble up off of the couch, he would have. Every single bit of his determination had been completely sucked and sapped away the split second Dream's voice had reached his ears. But he was too slow; his grip on the book had just barely tightened enough to close it, which he didn't even manage to do fully, by the time Dream entered the room, already pulling off his mask and unhooking the straps of his armor. He froze in the doorway, mask and helmet in hand, and just stared; Tommy could do little more than snap the book shut with a loud thud, staring back at the man with an apology already brewing on the tip of his tongue, his heart rate picking up to a frantic, unsteady pace and quick speed. His mouth opened, but the words didn't escape. He wasn't entirely sure that he wanted them to.
"'Ow do?" Tommy finally managed.
Dream laughed. A chill raced down Tommy's spine at the sound. "What…" The mask and helmet disappeared, and Dream's hands dropped down to his sides. "I'm- what are you doing-?"
Yeah, no amount of apologies would salvage this. Tommy grimaced. "I'm uh… reading…" He held up the book and Dream's eyebrows raised. The man didn't even spare a glance toward it, his gaze focused solely on Tommy. If Tommy cared enough to try and dig himself out of this grave, he probably would be on the floor by now. But he didn't. Despite this fear surging through him, he well and truly didn't. So he stayed put, on the couch; he didn't even bother to sit up yet. "It's uh, Greek Myths. Very interesting, actually. I think Technoblade is onto something there…" Dream just wasn't having it. He was just staring, silent. Tommy's heart stuttered. "Uh, anyway…" He floundered for a moment, struggling to come up with the words. "How… has your day been?"
"Good." Dream stared at him. "Up until now at least. I don't recall telling you you could read."
A nervous laugh bubbled in Tommy's chest. "Right, well, you didn't tell me I couldn't-"
"But I did tell you you weren't allowed on the couch," Dream continued as if Tommy hadn't spoken, and the blond snapped his mouth shut, swallowing. His heart jumped up to his chest when the man finally started walking towards him, and he immediately pushed himself to sit up.
He still didn't bother with apologies, there was no point in begging for mercy Dream didn't have. And now, he was reminded of why he had been so pissed off in the first place; pissed off enough that he had decided, for whatever reason, it would be a good idea to do this. There was no turning back, he had to live with this decision now. Whatever may come. His heart was still racing, and he was, frankly, surprised that Dream hadn't simply dragged him off of the couch yet. But the man was getting pissed, he could tell. And he certainly didn't help matters by opening his mouth in the slightest. "Well, I'm not a dog, Dream. I'm a human, I have human rig-"
"Sure you are." Dream's voice had taken on that sickly sweet, cheerful, chilling tone. Tommy stammered, falling silent as the man continued, almost cooing, "no dogs on the furniture, Toms."
Tommy actually felt sick hearing that. But more than that, he felt pissed hearing that.
So he did what anyone else would do. In a moment of clarity, anger and admittedly some dumbassery, when Dream did finally reach out to grab him by the collar of his hoodie and pull him off the couch, Tommy had about five seconds to think okay, bitch, you want me to be a dog? before he had already snapped his head around and sank his teeth into Dream's hand with a sickening crunch. The taste of blood followed the horrific sound immediately, along with a rather girlish sounding shriek from Dream, as the man yanked his hand back and stumbled backwards. Tommy took a second to really register the taste of blood on his teeth, the sight of the crimson liquid trickling down Dream's hand onto the carpet. The whole thing was hardly registering to him; he couldn't take his eyes off of Dream's hand, only vaguely aware that Dream was staring back at him, only barely feeling his gaze burning holes into his head. None of that mattered now.
What mattered was he had just fucking bitten Dream, he had bitten him hard enough to crack something in his hand, hard enough to make him bleed. He had hurt him. He had hurt Dream. And it felt good. It felt fucking liberating. A grin was spreading across his face before he even fully registered what was happening, and he was laughing before he could stop himself, damn near hysterical as he dropped the book and doubled over to wrap his arms around his stomach.
"Oh, you think this is funny," Dream sneered. "I thought I'd beaten this out of you already." He shook his hand off, summoning a healing potion from his inventory. Tommy just laughed harder.
"This is what you wanted, right?" He wheezed. "You wanted a dog. Dogs bite." He rolled his head back on his shoulders and looked up at the man, trying hard to stifle his laughter as his nerves twisted and turned against him, anxiety spreading like wildfire despite the grin on his face, the satisfaction that he felt. He was both on top of the world and trapped under the ground, digging himself a deeper and deeper grave with each passing second. He couldn't stop giggling. Dream, on the other hand, clearly did not find this amusing. He wasn't smiling anymore, he wasn't laughing. He had a cold, blank expression on his face, one that only made Tommy laugh a little harder as terror gnawed at his stomach, watching Dream pour the potion over his hand.
With dread and glee pooling in his gut, Tommy knew he deserved whatever was coming next.
"Bad dogs bite," Dream finally spoke, soft and angry.
Tommy gnashed his teeth at Dream in response, the wild grin on his face and the giggles bursting free from his lips a direct result of the pure, utter fear that was nesting in his stomach, his heart threatening to make a permanent home in his throat. Dream's eyes narrowed and the terror grew stronger, and for some fucking reason, he still just could not stop fucking laughing. "You know it's never actually the dog, right?" He breathed, chest heaving as he fought for air through his laughter, trying desperately to shut up. "It's the owner, Dream, that's the problem. Always." He swallowed hard, and finally managed to force himself quiet, for all of three seconds.
He couldn't breathe. His heart was pounding far too hard and far too fast, pushing tears to his eyes. His lungs were burning and he couldn't get enough air to make them stop. He knew he ought to just shut up and apologize, and yet, why bother? Why bother, with the useless apologies he knew firsthand didn't work? Dream wouldn't stop, no matter what he said now. He was going to be punished for this. There was no turning back, there was no making it better. Tommy wasn't backing down this time; there would be no fucking point. And sure, maybe there wasn't a point in pissing Dream off further either, making it worse for himself, but was that even possible at this point? Dream looked as livid as he had during the tower incident. Tommy wasn't sure that he could really do anything much worse now than what he had already done, so like…
"You're right," Dream agreed after several moments, and Tommy snapped his gaze back up to him, breathing out sharply. Whatever was about to come out of his mouth was going to be awful. "You're right. I haven't trained you well enough. That one's on me." Oh, he was pissed. Speaking through his teeth now, spitting every word out slowly, precisely. His shoulders were set and his fists were clenched and Tommy was expecting a punch very soon. "So, I should fix that."
Breathe in. Breathe out. This was fine, he deserved it.
Dream's fist connected with his jaw and Tommy finally stopped laughing, his breath catching in his throat and tears springing to his eyes at once. His tongue caught between his teeth, and that was really the most painful part; he swore he felt it crunch as his jaw snapped shut around it, blood already welling up by the time he managed to force his mouth back open. He didn't get even a second of relief, though; choking on his own blood, gasping and spitting in a desperate attempt to keep it from trickling down his throat, Tommy doubled over and instinctively lifted his arm to shield his face, bringing his other hand up to touch his jaw, already throbbing with pain. This was only the start, and he knew that, but he never could quite shake the instinct to protect himself. He couldn't even feel his heart beating anymore, just this awful overflow of adrenaline.
He flinched when Dream's hand grabbed his jaw, a bruising grip that tore a strangled whimper from Tommy's throat. His throat convulsed and constricted as he struggled to swallow the blood filling his mouth, as Dream jerked his head back around harshly, forcing Tommy to look at him. The anger glittering in his eyes was finally enough to render Tommy quiet, his stomach twisting.
Dream didn't say anything. He stood there for a moment, quiet, contemplating, and Tommy wondered what gears were turning in his head now, what twisted ideas he was coming up with.
He didn't have a chance to say anything. Dream pulled back and punched him again.
And again.
And again.
And again…
Pain exploded through his face the literal second he was dragged back into consciousness. It wasn't a slow process by any means; one second he was completely consumed by darkness, almost peaceful, even. The next, he was jerking awake as if from a nightmare he couldn't recall. His jaw throbbed the second his head moved, and he couldn't fight back the strangled cry that escaped his lips; he didn't get to move very far, not that he would have, admittedly. The pain rendered him frozen, his body afraid to move again, hesitant to incite more agony. Before his mind could even fully register this, before Tommy could even fully struggle with his exhausted brain and force himself back into a state of awareness, the familiar feeling of Dream's hand grabbing his face sent another shockwave of pain through his jaw, his teeth, his head - and in a brilliant moment of panic and adrenaline, Tommy whipped his head around and snapped his teeth toward where he felt Dream's hand touching him, lashing out with the intention of biting hard. Before, it had just been petty, and spiteful; now, his actions were borne purely out of panic.
He didn't meet his mark, though. Something stopped his mouth from closing completely when he gnashed his teeth toward Dream again, and another strangled cry escaped him as another throb of pain split through his jaw. Dream's grip tightened, hard enough that Tommy felt something crack, and he hadn't realized he had opened his eyes until his vision blurred with unshed tears. Everything looked hazy, even as he finally started to force himself to focus again.
"You done?" Dream's voice was completely devoid of emotion, even anger. Tommy winced. "Good." The hand holding his jaw pushed his head back sharply, and Tommy let out a whimper.
Something was wrong. His jaw, it hurt. He couldn't move his hands, not for lack of trying. They were bound somewhere behind him, and he couldn't yank them free of the restraints. Dread and terror pooled in his gut as he registered this, breaths quickening. His mouth still wouldn't close fully, he couldn't figure out why. Something was stopping it - something was in his mouth, pressed against his teeth, his gums. Pain split through his jaw with every heartbeat, more and more agonizing every second. More tears rushed to his eyes, and Tommy tried in vain to blink them away. They spilled over regardless, tracking down his cheeks. He heard Dream chuckle. "Oh, does it hurt?" The man asked, some amusement creeping into his voice. "Good, I'm glad. Just remember." A hand rested on his head, fingers weaving into his hair, and Tommy couldn't fight back the strangled yell that tore from him as Dream yanked his head upwards and tilted it back so that Tommy had to look up at him, forcing him to meet his gaze. "You have earned this."
Tommy glared at him through his tears, trying to work his jaw enough to speak. He couldn't.
Dream let him go, only to trail his hand back down to Tommy's face. He stiffened, shying away instinctively, but he didn't and couldn't get very far, physically. Dream's fingers pressed against his jaw, prodding lightly for a moment, and something in Tommy's stomach curled at the feeling of Dream's thumb hooking into his lower lip, pulling it down slightly so that he could study Tommy's jaw. Something was in his hand, but Tommy couldn't get a very clear look at it just yet.
Until Dream brought it up toward his face, and Tommy had half a second to think is that a fucking screwdriver? before Dream was pushing it into his mouth, against his jaw. Tommy seized up at once, eyes widening. He couldn't feel it actually touching him, yet, he couldn't feel the metal against his gums. But he did feel something. A growing pressure, as Dream carefully maneuvered the screwdriver around, until Tommy felt it click into place abruptly, as if it had been fitted with a screw. And he barely had time to register that, and the implications of it before Dream suddenly gave a hard twist and every fucking nerve in Tommy's mouth erupted with pain. He screamed, throwing himself backwards, and Dream went with him, gripping his jaw tighter.
"Don't make this harder on yourself, Tommy," was all he said, and he continued.
And holy fucking shit it was agonizing. Tommy didn't fully know what was happening, through the pain and the tears and the screaming, he couldn't process it to its full extent. He knew that something was being screwed into his lower jaw, in the inside of his mouth. He could feel it clearly now, the pressure building with every twist of the screwdriver. Metal, pressing against his gums, his teeth. His breath came in harsh gasps as Dream continued, and the pain grew worse. If he thought there was a chance he could fight his way out of this, he probably would try. But Dream's grip was tight, and harsh, and promised nothing but more pain if he attempted it again.
It didn't fucking stop, though. Tommy couldn't stop the instinctive jerks and twitches, thoughtless attempts to pull away when the pain became unbearable. Dream held him firmly in place, though, unyielding as he continued on with his task. He was pissed, that much was fucking clear. He almost missed the soft touches he had grown used to, when Dream would pull him into those tight, possessive hugs and hold him close and praise him for his good behavior. As much as he fucking hated it, as much as he fucking hated being treated like a dog - being treated like less than a person - that was infinitely better than this. Frustrated tears joined the ones built up from the pain, and they spilled over again. He just couldn't seem to get this right. He couldn't seem to fucking make up his mind. What did he want? Something had to give, here. He either needed to give up or he needed to stick to his guns, and either way it was lose-lose. Because either way, there was no fucking escaping this. No matter how hard he fought, no matter what he did or didn't do, he was Dream's. This was the life he was doomed to for eternity.
Or at least until he died. Which at this point was a mercy Tommy wasn't counting on anymore. The universe should be so kind. But Tommy understood now, the universe had no kindness for him. No mercy, not even a flicker. To be honest, he was still wondering what he did to deserve it.
To deserve this. This pain. This torture. This abuse. To deserve Dream.
Dream stopped, but the pain didn't. It just kind of eased a little bit, but it was still damn near fucking unbearable. Tommy couldn't scream anymore; his throat was sore and raw and every sound he tried to make came out hoarse and shaky. He was breathing far too fast, and his mouth being forced open wasn't helping matters on that front. His vision blurred and he couldn't think clearly; for quite some time, he was honestly convinced he passed out, or at least zoned out, because one second he was somewhat conscious and aware of what was going on, and the next… he just wasn't there. Everything was faded, and distant. He could still feel the pain, he could still feel every touch and the agony that came with it, but the situation felt so far away.
He came back to himself somewhat, a quiet whine escaping, when Dream's fingers tangled in his hair and forced his head upwards. More tears welled up in his eyes, his aching jaw trembling as he focused on the man before him. "There we go," Dream murmured, and his voice was soft. Not angry-soft, like he had been before. Genuinely soft, almost caring. And Tommy hated, hated, hated the relief that bloomed in his chest at the tone, hoping for a moment that it was over, that Dream was satisfied with this punishment, that he wasn't going to be hurt anymore. That hope squashed everything else Tommy had felt; the anger, the indignance, the shame.
But Dream wasn't done. Tommy stilled as the hand left his hair, and watched Dream look away from him, turning his gaze to the side. Tommy barely managed to catch a glimpse of some tools next to the man, some metal pieces and screws, and a thin, small roll of what looked like… wire.
Wire.
Panic returned, bleeding into the relief, ever-consuming and unyielding. His breathing picked up, his heart slamming against his ribcage hard enough to hurt. That was wire. And these tools… his jaw… his blood ran cold again and Tommy couldn't think clearly past the terror rapidly consuming him. Dream was going to wire his fucking jaw shut. Dream was going to wire his fucking jaw shut for biting him, holy fucking shit. He finally managed to feel a flicker of regret, his satisfaction at his latest attempt at wrestling back control from Dream finally stamped out entirely. Tommy sucked in as deep a breath as possible and tried to shake his head, turning his gaze back to Dream. His mouth felt too stiff and his tongue was too heavy and he couldn't talk, but he struggled to relay an apology regardless. If Dream noticed, however, he just didn't care.
After a moment, Dream grabbed one of the metal pieces and reached for him again; Tommy couldn't fight down the strangled whimper that escaped him then, flinching away from his hands. Tears welled up in his eyes and a sob trapped itself somewhere in his lungs, straining against his ribs. He didn't release it, didn't dare. Dream's hand came closer and Tommy flinched again, breathing out sharply and struggling to choke out an apology, only managing to whimper again.
But Dream didn't grab him harshly this time, didn't trap his throbbing jaw in that bruising grip. His hand cupped against Tommy's face, gentle but firm, and tilted Tommy's head up toward him.
"You're doing so well," Dream told him softly. "I was so sure I'd have to use a paralytic by now. You're being so good, Tommy." And again, Tommy loathed the relief that fluttered within him at the words, sucking in a shuddering breath as he stared up at the man. "That's what I wanted to see. Listen." Dream crouched slightly so that they were level with each other again, so Tommy didn't have to crane his neck upwards just to hold his gaze. His eyes followed the man silently, fighting back another flinch as Dream's thumb brushed over his cheek. "You're not getting out of this punishment so easily. I have to teach you that what you did was wrong. But if you're good, I'll try to be gentle. And maybe I won't do everything that I originally had planned. Sound good?"
Despair flooded his senses, but Tommy wasn't about to pass up the chance to lessen and shorten this punishment. He tucked his pride away into the darkest corners of his mind and forced himself to yield, just long enough, just enough, to be able to force a nod and press his face further into Dream's hand, hoping that the more compliant he was, the more merciful Dream would be. A delighted smile flitted across the man's face, and Tommy breathed out a sigh of relief. He was so easy to please sometimes. Tommy ought to appeal to him more often…
No, no, wrong, wrong, wrong, this is wrong, I'm not backing down to Dream, I'm NOT-
"Good boy," Dream praised, soft and sweet, and Tommy screwed his eyes shut against another rush of frustrated tears. Dream pulled his hand away. Tommy hated himself for missing the warmth, the strange comfort the soft touch had given him. The man who hurt him so horribly was the same person - the only person - Tommy could turn to for comfort in those moments. He didn't know how Dream balanced it out like he did, the harsh rage and the gentle warmth. He didn't know how he balanced out his own fear with these brief, twisted moments of safety Dream managed to offer him. But thinking about it too hard made his head whirl uncomfortably, with thoughts and emotions he didn't want to analyze. So he tucked that away, too, and forced his eyes open once more, resigning himself to this punishment, praying that it would be over soon. If he was good. If he was good, then it would be over soon. So he just needed to be good.
So he held still. His jaw throbbed and ached and he prayed for it to stop, prayed for death to claim him as he did every night, desperate for some kind of peace. He didn't get any. Dream tugged the front of his hoodie down to expose his collarbones, and placed the metal piece overtop of one. Tommy furrowed his eyebrows slightly, but his confusion didn't last very long. Truthfully, he didn't care enough to try and figure out exactly what Dream was doing to him. He just wanted it to stop. He tipped his head back slightly, focusing on the ceiling instead, and breathed in shakily through his open mouth as Dream held the metal piece in place and rummaged for his tools, grabbing a screw and trading in the screwdriver for what looked like a drill from the corner of Tommy's eye. His blood ran cold again, and his heart was back to hammering in his chest, but he forced himself to stay still - be good, be good just be good and it'll be over soon, be good and make him happy and it'll be over soon - as Dream pressed the screw into place. The pain was nothing compared to what he felt in his jaw, but he did feel the pinch as the screw pierced his skin, and it wasn't long after that before he felt the blood trickling.
He tried to imagine he was in L'Manberg again. He was back with Tubbo, sitting on the bench, listening to the discs. He screwed his eyes shut again against a rush of tears, and closed his mouth as much as his aching jaw would allow, until he could breathe in through his nose again. He tried to keep his body from jerking, tried to hold still for Dream as he continued to drill the screw into his skin. Then he forced himself back into his fantasy, into his mind, back with Tubbo.
There was a longing for someone else, though. Tommy shied away from it as though it could hurt him, his mind instinctively recoiling from the thoughts. No. No one else. It was only Tubbo…
Something in his collarbone shifted, painfully, and Tommy couldn't choke back a strangled cry, a soft "hrk" escaping before he managed to silence himself again. Tears pricked at his eyes as he forced them open again, his fantasy fading away. Replaced with the nightmare that was his life. He panted for a moment, his jaw falling slack again despite his efforts to hold it shut, and barely managed to focus on Dream through the tears blurring his vision. A small smile appeared on the man's face, reaching out to gently pat Tommy's cheek. Tommy didn't have the brainpower or frankly the physical energy to flinch away from him, just holding still under his touch. "Sorry," the man crooned, not sounding sorry at all. "I have to make sure the screws go in all the way, so that the plate doesn't shift." Tommy pretended like he understood that, mumbling a quiet assent.
Dream studied him for a moment, looking amused. "You're not all there right now, are you?" Tommy managed to furrow his eyebrows, unsure what Dream meant by that. But he didn't have the strength to formulate a proper response, or an inquiry, so he just stared through half-lidded eyes until Dream let out a soft laugh and turned away again, plucking up another screw. "Okay."
Tommy let his mind drift back to Tubbo as Dream set the next screw in place. He missed Tubbo. He wondered if Tubbo missed him. He hadn't seen or heard from the other boy since his exile. At least, not really. Not in a way that wasn't a hallucination, at least. Tommy was pretty sure that the Tubbo he had seen back then, back before the beach party, had just been a hallucination. Dream had insisted he couldn't see Tubbo, though Ghostbur had, but then again Ghostbur had also backtracked and ended up saying he wasn't really sure what he saw and if it was Tubbo or not. But Dream had been pretty insistent that it wasn't, and Tommy, in all honesty, wasn't very inclined to believe that Tubbo would drop by just to watch them from a distance like a creepy ass stalker. So… no, that meant Tommy hadn't seen or spoken to Tubbo since he'd been exiled.
He wondered what Tubbo would think of this, think of him, now. Tommy wanted to believe he would be angry, horrified by what Dream was doing. Some smaller part of him, a voice in his head that sounded vaguely like Dream's, wondered if Tubbo would agree with Dream that Tommy deserved this. Maybe he just wouldn't care. Maybe it didn't matter, and Tommy didn't think it did, because he probably wouldn't ever see Tubbo again anyways. Dream didn't like him.
But for a moment, he imagined Tubbo's arms wrapping around him, holding him close, telling him that he was okay, he was safe, he was here and Dream wasn't ever going to hurt him again-
His body jerked instinctively at another flair of pain. "You're doing good…" Dream murmured.
Tommy let out a quiet hum of acknowledgement, keeping his eyes shut.
In his fantasy, Tubbo held him even closer. Murmuring soft reassurances, gentle words that flew right over Tommy's head. It didn't matter, in the long run, what he was saying. He retreated fully into his head and left Dream behind for the moment, the pain and the fear he was experiencing. Dream didn't need him to be aware for this. He was going to continue doing what he was doing regardless, and when it was over, he could shake Tommy awake again and show off his masterpiece. For now, he was tired. So he let himself drift off, fully immersed into his mind now.
He was with Tubbo, and everything was okay.