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It was so fun, in the beginning. When the sun shone brighter, and the sky was bluer, and the green of the grass and trees were unmarked by the burn of fires and the ravaging of people. When the world before them was expansive and full of potential, potential they hadn’t even yet realized they were destined for. That was what Tommy missed the most: The blissful ignorance of future strife.
It was then that Tommy met Dream, and Dream met Tommy, and the two were inseparable.
Tommy can admit that he was a little impressionable and naive. But everything was just so different then that it hardly mattered. Maybe it never mattered.
“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone quite like you, big man.”
“Oh?” Dream gives a light chuckle. “Is that a compliment?”
Tommy squints at him, faking a deliberative look. “I’m not sure,” he teases. “I’ll let you know.”
“I’ll be waiting with bated breath.” Tommy can practically hear Dream roll his eyes. They return to hammering wood, continuing on building the beginnings of what would later be called the Prime Path.
“I’ve heard you’ve got a bit of a reputation,” Tommy starts. It’s a new day, new adventure. They’re deep in a cave system somewhere, working on clearing it out and scouring for iron. Iron. Prime, what a different time it all was.
“Do tell,” Dream urges, like he doesn’t know what Tommy could possibly be talking about.
Tommy grins, humming in thought before continuing. “ Well, legend says you can take on five guys.”
“In a fight, right?” Dream says with mirth.
Tommy snorts, “No, in crazy hardcore sex.” He stops to place a torch, falling behind a little as Dream pushes forward. He runs to catch up and says, “No, but seriously. Five guys? All by yourself? You’ve gotta teach me some moves some day.”
“It’s all about focus. If you’re not focused, you’ll find yourself dead.”
“Please, there’s more to a fight than concentration. We all know that. You’re just copping out of a real answer.”
Dream halts and turns to look at Tommy. Tommy stares at the mask, wishing it was Dream’s eyes instead. “Okay.”
Tommy blinks. “Wait, really? You’ll really teach me something?” He tries—and fails—to not let his eagerness show through.
But instead of answering, Dream stops dead and shushes him, dropping into a low crouch behind a rock formation. Tommy follows.
Ahead, is a skeleton and creeper, aimlessly wandering around a cave clearing. Tommy doesn’t know why they’re hiding: they’ve killed hundreds of these by now.
“Did you know?” Dream whispers in his ear conspiratorially. Tommy tries not to shiver. “If a skeleton kills a creeper, it drops a music disc.”
There was never a declaration of love. That’s a bit much, even for Tommy. But there was a gradual progression of… closeness. Tommy grew attached pretty easily, but Dream was harder to read. Not only because of his mask, but Tommy had never met someone so aloof and socially stunted before. It was a wonder if the guy even knew what love was. But it happened, regardless. They grew close, a bit too close to be considered platonic, and suddenly they were sneaking kisses behind buildings, holding hands under the table during the Community House communal dinners, essentially living out stereotypical teenage intimacy. And they were happy.
The disc fiasco was a bit of a setback. Every couple has a spat.
Wilbur showing up and giving him a grandiose vision of a country separate from the main server was the metaphorical straw that broke the camel’s back. He knew Dream was rather protective of the community they’ve been fostering up until then, but Tommy didn’t see what was wrong with a little variation.
Then war.
And more war.
The server being broken up into factions, buildings and forests being razed to the ground, spouses losing their other half to battle, countries being reduced to craters, obsidian grids, exile, a prison being built off the shore of the mainland.
Just as there was never a declaration of love. There was never a final goodbye. Dream was carted off to Pandora’s Vault on that fateful day and Tommy was considered free of his clutches.
“So, you own a hotel?” The girl—Maisie—smiles easily, twirling a lock of her blonde hair around her finger. “That’s cool! What’s that like?”
“Y-Yeah, it’s, uhm, I dunno, it’s a lot of work, to be honest.” Tommy forces a strained chuckle, but he can’t focus completely. Her hair is blonde, yes, like so many of the others’. But it’s just the wrong shade. More of a sunflower yellow compared to the ashen blond of–
“Oh, Toms, I’m so sorry. That sounds rough. I’m sure there’s some perks though, right?”
“What, don’t like it when I call you that?”
“Ugh, please, my dad’s name was Tom. Toms was like my mom’s nickname for him. Absolutely disgusting.”
He laughs, “And ‘Tommy’s so different? But, I get it. Tommy it is.”
“Well, there’s a pool on the lower level that I get to use whenever I want, so…” Tommy can’t help but pick at the skin around his nails. He hopes she doesn’t notice.
Her eyes—green—light up. “A pool! Oh, you have to take me sometime, I love swimming!”
“You want to go swimming? At this hour?”
“What, you scared , big man? You gonna be a little bitch boy about it?”
“What? Come back here!”
“You okay, Toms?” Maisie frowns, concerned. “You look… distracted.”
Tommy startles, flubbering for an answer. “Yeah, ‘m fine! Just… the hotel has me working long hours. I think I’m gonna call it a night, if that’s okay?”
“Oh!” Maisie sits up, looking flustered for some reason. “Yeah, sure! I’m sorry, I didn’t think about the time when we scheduled this. Raincheck for next week? Maybe at an earlier time?”
Tommy smiles tiredly, “Sure, sounds good.” He pays the bill for the two of them and they go their separate ways—Tommy doesn’t think to offer her a walk-along home.
The way home is dark, peaceful, void of people. Tommy decides to head to his “vacation” home—that house on stilts on the cliffside, away from everyone and everything. He heads first to the rail system, deciding it wouldn’t necessarily be the fastest way back, but it was the easiest, and rides it all the way to his home. The wind against his skin helps clear his head, finally coming to terms with how much of a disaster that date was—how much of a disaster all of his dates have been.
He can’t help it! He really can’t! Each one, female, pretty, blonde hair, brown hair, taller than him, shorter than him, green eyes, blue eyes, brown eyes, strong, delicate, and each one can’t hold a candle. Tommy doesn’t get the spark, the desire, the urge to connect more. He’s not so much of a hopeless romantic to think that someone can only love once in their life, but it’s starting to feel that way more and more.
The lights are off at his house, as Tommy expected. He climbs out of the minecart and makes his way up the path to his house, sighing heavily as he nudges open the door.
It’s then that he notices someone else is in the room.
Moonlight spills in through the windows, leaving just enough of a glow to outline a formidable shadow standing in the center of his house, silent and unwavering.
Tommy switches on the redstone lamps with haste, realizing with alarm that he’s unarmed.
But no, it’s not just anyone that stands at the center of his home, but a very familiar man with an exposed, scarred face.
“Dream?!” Tommy shouts, for lack of anything better to do.
Realistically, he knows that Dream’s been escaped from prison for a few months. But the man hasn’t shown hide nor hair of himself anywhere near the mainland or surrounding counties, so everyone just assumed he grew some sense and fled. Things were actually calming down around the mainland after the initial scare wore off. And the last place Tommy had expected to see him was in his own home.
“Had a good night?” Is Dream’s dark, ominous reply.
Tommy pauses, blinking in question. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Have you…” Tommy starts, but doesn’t want to continue. “Have you been stalking me?”
“You certainly have moved on.”
“Dream– Wha– You’ve been in prison. We haven’t– for so long…”
“You’ve never dated anyone else before.”
Dream’s not wrong, of course. Through all the wars, all the scuffles, all the treaties, Tommy’s never “moved on” so to speak. Getting back into dating is a recent thing, certainly not at all related to a certain somebody’s recent imprisonment-then-escape.
“Yeah, well, that is…” Tommy steps forward into his house, certain that Dream’s not here to kill him. What he’s here for, though, Tommy’s unsure. The door clicks shut behind him. “What are you here for, Dream?” It comes out exhausted.
Dream’s a silent, intimidating figure in Tommy’s cozy bungalow. All netherite armor (seriously, where’d he get that?) and stoic features. Nightmare’s nowhere in sight, but that doesn’t mean it’s far.
In lieu of an answer, Dream strides towards Tommy with long, even strides.
Tommy’s eyes don’t leave his face, a little distracted at how naked it looks without the mask (the mask he smashed to bits in Dream’s vault). Tommy’s only ever seen Dream’s face a handful of times, even back then.
Dream reaches Tommy—
—and kisses him.
And Tommy… is a weak, weak man.
Tommy moans sweetly into the kiss, reaching up and looping lax arms around Dream’s armored shoulders, tangling fingers into the choppy shave near the base of his neck. It’s been so long , so long since they’ve connected in such a way, so long since Tommy’s connected with anyone in such a way. It feels great, it gives a rush—a spike of heat that spreads down his spine and pools in his belly.
Dream pulls back with a sharp gasp, growling out against his lips, “I missed you.”
Tommy knows it’s probably been just as long for Dream, too. He doesn’t remember Dream getting into any relationship since they split (that stint with Fundy notwithstanding, everyone knew it was one-sided). He supposes perhaps he should be jealous of George, but there was never any concrete evidence that they were a thing. Just rumors and teasing jibes.
Not to mention… Dream kisses like a man starved. He’s practically swallowing Tommy whole, drinking in everything Tommy’s giving him. His gloved hands tangle into Tommy’s already-messy hair, so big they envelop Tommy’s skull. Tommy is essentially trapped between his palms, but he can’t find it in himself to be afraid.
“I–” Tommy starts, but can’t finish. He doesn’t know what to say, just that he wants to say it. I’m sorry? I missed you, too? I want you to keep going? Tommy feels drunk on Dream’s touch, on his passion.
“I know,” Dream murmurs, “I’m with you, now.”
Now and forever, the words appear suddenly in Tommy’s mind. That’s what this is, isn’t it? Dream has always been watching him, waiting for Tommy at his lowest so he can strike and reintegrate himself into Tommy’s life. That’s got to be it.
Tommy pushes on Dream’s chest, and Dream—surprisingly—lets him go. “What is this?” Tommy accuses. “What are you doing? All those years of fighting, of your fuckin’ shifty behavior. Then you’re locked up, and I think: ‘That’s it. It’s done.’ But now you’re out, and back, and all up on me like no time passed at all! Like we’re still… Like you still care about me.”
Dream’s eyes soften, and Tommy is still awestruck by their luminosity. It’s as if they glow, the detail within them so defined and sharp. Like a cat, Tommy thinks with a snort.
“You really think I don’t care about you?”
“I don’t know what to think! Dream, man, we haven’t had a close relationship for so long. You can’t expect me to just jump back into your arms.”
Dream looks mildly confused, as if he did in fact expect that of Tommy. Tommy wants to scoff, wondering why Dream still has yet to figure out the human psyche. Why did Tommy have to fall for such an idiot?
“So… you want to take things slow.” Dream concludes.
Tommy thinks of the heated kiss just moments before. The arousal that began building in him.
He flushes, “I– Ah… Don’t think I want that, either.”
Dream must read something telling on Tommy’s face, because he breaks out in a smug smirk. “Oh? Yeah?” It verges on being teasing.
Tommy wants to protest, but he falls short. The truth is—and maybe it’s his loneliness talking—he’s not as against the idea of getting together with Dream as he’s supposed to be. Of course, any outside person would tell him to turn and flee as fast as he can. Maybe tell the Warden while he’s at it where exactly Dream has been these past few months.
But… some awful, nostalgic part of himself misses Dream. Misses the stolen kisses, the exhilarating fight training, the secret hand-holding. Misses Dream himself, the bastard man with the enchanting green eyes and ugly wheeze-laugh. Even misses the teasing smug attitude that he’s displaying right now, as if he knows a secret Tommy doesn’t.
He doesn’t miss the manipulation. The fighting, the torture, the murder. Something inside Tommy sours at the memory. Memories.
But Dream is standing here now, looking as innocuous as he did all those years ago, minus the new scars and imposing armor. (Seriously, how’s he able to trail Tommy so silently with pieces of metal strapped to his person?) Despite it all, Tommy can’t find it in himself to push the man away completely. Or maybe he’s just tired of the fighting.
Or maybe he’s clinging to a dream that died a long time ago.
“I…” Tommy chokes out, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. “I need to think.” He finally says, resolute. Dream can’t force him into anything right now, Tommy’s not in the mood. If Dream wants to get back together, then he’s gonna have to wait until Tommy’s thought it through. Maybe Dream’s expecting Tommy to rush into a decision because Dream caught him off guard in his home.
Nope, Tommy thinks. Not today, you green bastard.
“Of course,” Dream replies. Tommy opens his mouth in silent surprise. He’s agreeing? He’s not gonna just jump Tommy’s bones? “What, you thought I would argue?”
“I don’t know what to think. I thought I said that already.” Tommy crosses his arms in a huff.
Dream raises his hands placatingly, “You’re right, you’re right.” He goes to move past Tommy towards the door, but stops. Tommy raises a questioning brow. “Can we–? Just once more, please.”
Tommy wants to reject the advance. He should reject it. But Tommy’s mind is inundated with memories of past… advances, and he can’t find it in him to deny Dream. Tommy rolls his eyes, but lowers his arms in acceptance. “Fine.”
And Dream’s instantly on him. Tommy feels rather than sees himself get backed against a nearby wall, Dream’s hands sliding up and down Tommy’s body. Dream kisses ravenously, and Tommy rushes to reciprocate. But Dream’s already moving south, trailing kisses down Tommy’s cheek and into the hollow of his neck. Tommy shivers and moans, his hands coming up to clutch at Dream’s chestplate. Absently, he’s grateful Dream didn’t enchant Thorns on his armor, or this situation would’ve ended differently.
“Let me stay,” Dream murmurs into his skin. “Please, Tommy.”
Tommy blinks back into focus, his body buzzing with arousal. Dream, begging? Tommy must be in some alternate dimension.
“I can’t do that,” he forces out. As tempting as it is, he has to hold strong, at least for a little bit. Maybe the days will pass, and Tommy will be longing for Dream enough to run back into his arms, but for now he has to hold strong. “Don’t make this difficult.”
It’s been a few days since he’s seen Dream. Tommy feels like he can still sense the other man’s eyes on him, but he knows it’s just paranoia. If he wasn’t able to sense Dream for all those months, there’s no way he can suddenly gain that ability now.
“What’s on your mind, man?” Tubbo questions. They’re standing in the construction zone of Bee n’ Boo, an inn or hotel—Tommy can’t remember what Tubbo said—built by Tubbo and Ranboo. Tommy doesn’t know the full details, but apparently there’s been some conflicts between the two and construction has halted. Tommy doesn’t mind—less competition for his own hotel.
“Oh, Tubbo,” Tommy lets out a long-suffering sigh, playing up the dramatics. “My man. My sidekick–”
“Sidekick?”
“–I’m having love troubles, you see.” Tommy concludes with a flourish. Tubbo looks unimpressed.
“Love troubles? How can you have love troubles when you can barely hold a date?”
Tommy opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Suffice to say, he’s thoroughly offended. “Excuse you?” Is what he settles on.
“Sorry, I just mean– Well– At least tell me what’s going on?” Tubbo winces at his fumble.
“No, you’re being rude, I don’t want to tell you anything.”
“Oh, c’mon, man, I’m just being realistic. But, fine. What’s troubling you?”
Tommy bites his lip and looks away. He mainly answered the initial question as a joke, but wouldn’t it be a good idea to get a second opinion? Even if he knows the answer should Tommy tell the whole truth, perhaps he can spin it in a different way…
“So there’s this girl–”
“There always is.”
“This girl,” Tommy huffs, unamused at Tubbo’s slights. “Well, let’s just say we have a history. We were together, once upon a time. But then we fought—turns out she’s crazy—and I haven’t seen her for almost a year. Now, she’s back, and she wants to get back together.”
“Sounds like a shit relationship.” Tubbo deadpans.
“But,” Tommy interrupts, “there’s something about her, Tubbo. Like, looks aside—she’s drop-dead gorgeous, by the way—she is, like, genuinely funny. And her laugh is stupid but endearing. And she’s been there for me when no one else was, even if it was maybe a bit of her fault I was alone in the first place. I dunno. Maybe it is shit.” Tommy loses more steam the more he continues, knowing that this doesn’t sound like a desirable relationship and that Tubbo will call him out on it.
Tubbo lets out a resigned sigh. “I don’t know who the hell this girl is, and you know I’d love nothing more than to tell you shit straight up, but– You sound, well–”
“Sound like what?”
“Like you’re genuinely heartbroken over her.” Tubbo gives him a sad look. “Like you miss her. Maybe it is a shit relationship, but we’ve all been in shit relationships before. And if she gets too crazy, you can always call on your allies to help out. Trust me, you say the word and I’ll fight this girl for your safety.” He shoulder bumps Tommy good-naturedly, giving him a friendly smile. “But hey, you know her better than I do. And you know yourself, too. If this sounds like something you want to pursue, you should pursue it.”
“Why are you suddenly so supportive? What happened to laughing at me over having love troubles?” Tommy gives a doubtful cock of his brow.
“I know not to kick a dog while it’s down, I guess? Or maybe your tale of woe just changed my mind.”
Tommy so desperately wants to shout: It’s not just a girl! It’s about Dream! Just to see what Tubbo would do. Probably lock him up for being insane. Oh, if only Tubbo knew. There’s no way he’d be so understanding of Tommy’s situation.
But another part of Tommy doesn’t want Tubbo to know. Another part thinks back to all those years ago, sneaking kisses in alleyways and in the cover of buildings. Laying under the stars away from civilization and planning dreams for the future. There’s a certain thrill to not having a public relationship. A childish, naïve thrill, maybe, but a thrill nonetheless. Tommy feels it even stronger now, after having been through wars against this man, after having battled on mountaintops against this man, after bringing him close to death in front of the entire server. People won’t understand the reasoning behind them, even more so now than back then.
But Tommy’s nothing if not a thrill-seeker. A danger addict. Never satisfied in the monotony of normal civil life.
“It does sound like shit, though.” Is Tubbo’s conclusion.
Tommy goes on another date.
It’s not like he planned to go on another date, but he was shopping at Targay and crossed paths with Maisie in the bread aisle. One thing led to another, and they planned a small McPuffy’s outing at noon the next day.
Tommy’s been spending a lot of time at his vacation home. He only used it maybe once a year before, so there’s not a lot of clothing options to choose from. He chooses a blue button-up that he bought on impulse because the color was calming paired with black jeans. He spends more time than he’d like to admit fussing with his hair in the mirror, trying to tame his wild curls. Eventually, he gives up after noticing how late it’s becoming, and rushes out the door.
Maisie is sweet. Even from the one date they’ve had so far, Tommy can tell she’s a kind soul. Unproblematic, civilized, normal. It’s almost the opposite of The Other Guy (Tommy’s trying not to think about him right now) and he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not. Just… different.
The date is going well. McPuffy’s is decently crowded due to the lunch rush, but neither Tommy nor Maisie mind. It’s just the two of them, in their own little world, swapping stories and sharing laughs. Maisie’s laugh is like tinkling bells, high and airy and controlled, not like The Other Guy’s. It sounds almost fake, but Tommy can’t let his insecurities ruin a good thing.
It’s going great. Tommy’s not nearly as distracted as he was the first time, and Maisie doesn’t seem as offended by Tommy’s earlier behavior as he thought she would be. Finally, things seem to be going Tommy’s way.
It’s crowded enough that Tommy’s not paying attention to who enters and exits the building. Doesn’t see the way one person in particular makes a sharp beeline towards their table. Doesn’t notice anything until the person has sat down in the chair adjacent to Tommy and Maisie.
“Um,” Maisie starts, looking at the intruder with confused eyes. “Can we help you?”
Tommy just stares. And stares. Because it’s not just anyone seated next to them, it’s Dream. Dream, who’s wearing nothing but a simple grey hoodie and cargo pants, and is donning a black, cloth face mask. Tommy can give a good guess as to why.
He finds his voice enough to mutter, “Please, Prime, no.” Maisie looks at him with those same confused eyes.
“Toms? Who’s this?”
Dream has yet to speak, staring down Tommy with eyes that could kill.
“This is… Drrrr…ew.” Tommy settles on. “Drew. And he’s not invited.”
Most people don’t know Dream’s face. Even with the final battle in Dream’s stronghold, a year ago, only a select few soldiers were present when Tommy sliced the Ax of Peace across Dream’s face and unveiled him. So, no, most people wouldn’t recognize Dream in public without his iconic markings, and even less so at noon in a McPuffy’s.
“This wasn’t what I imagined when you asked for time.” Dream finally grits out.
“What is he talking about?” Maisie questions again. Tommy feels bad that she’s caught in the middle of this.
Dream finally looks over at Maisie, and Tommy feels himself flush. With the two side-by-side, their similarities are even more apparent. Blond hair, green eyes… Tommy wants to crawl into a hole and die.
“I see,” Dream sounds like he’s smirking. He turns back to Tommy. “Trying to find a safer alternative?”
“You leave her alone,” Tommy growls, sitting up in his chair. Dream can tease Tommy all he wants, but Maisie is innocent.
“I–” Maisie starts, looking lost and a little hurt. “I’m sorry, I guess this isn’t a good time? I’ll just… leave–”
“No, wait–!”
“Please, do.”
They speak at the same time. Tommy snaps his head to look at Dream, trying to explode him with his mind. Was Dream’s plan to ruin Tommy’s date? His chance at a normal life away from Dream? Dirty move, but Tommy can’t say he’s surprised.
Maisie’s face is pinched. “I’m sorry, Toms. Catch you later?” She none-too-gently grabs her bag and darts out of the building. Tommy watches her go and sees any future relations with her crumble.
He turns to Dream. “What the fuck?”
Dream’s eyes look smug. “C’mon, Toms. A lookalike? You can do better.”
“That’s not what was going on. Fuck you.”
“Looked pretty damning to me,” Dream muses. Tommy wants to punch him. “What was her name?”
“That’s none of your business.” And it wasn’t. Tommy doesn’t want to know what Dream would do if he could track her down. Tommy’s never thought of him to be a crazy possessive type, but time away in prison seemed to change a lot of things.
“Fine, fine.” Dream acquiesces. “But now that you’re free…”
“What do you want, Dream.” It comes out bland and disinterested.
“You.” Dream answers without shame. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”
“And you think I’m gonna go with you now that you’ve ruined my date?”
“I can change your mind,” Dream leans in, a mischievous air around him. “One night. C’mon, Tommy.”
Tommy shifts in his seat, hating what that tone of voice does to him. “You don’t even have a house.”
“I don’t need one.”
Tommy scoffs, “I’m not fucking you in the dirt, man.”
“Oh, we’ll have a bed.” Dream winks. Fucking winks.
When Dream leads them to Tommy’s hotel, Tommy starts to understand. He wished otherwise, because that means–
“How the fuck were you able to get a hotel room? In my hotel? Without documentation?”
Dream leads them through the lobby, heading right to the elevators like he owned the place. “Just one of my many secrets.” He’s definitely smiling, the smug bastard.
Tommy wants to press more, pressure Dream into spilling the details, but the elevator becomes full of other families and Tommy snaps his mouth shut before he damns them all.
Turns out, Dream has a room somewhere on the third floor. He grabs Tommy’s hand in the elevator and leads them through the winding hallways until they come across room 324. Dream wastes no time in opening it and ushering Tommy inside.
It’s exactly as Tommy built it. A single, full size bed, nightstand, desk, desk chair, reading chair, and plain lamps placed throughout. Tommy doesn’t know why he was half-expecting Dream to splurge on a suite—that’s completely unrealistic, and Dream has never been known to treat himself with luxuries that weren’t battle-related.
“Okay,” Tommy starts. “I’m here. Now what–!”
He’s cut off as Dream swoops in and tugs him into a bridal carry. Tommy squawks in protest, but Dream has a one-track mind. He carries a fighting Tommy over to the bed and tosses him on it. Tommy lets out an oof! and bounces a bit on the mattress. He rights himself and sends a glare Dream’s way. The other man is already crawling on the bed after him.
“You’re doing a shit job at seducing me.”
Dream gives a cocky smirk. “Who says I need to seduce you?” He leans down close, mouth inches away from Tommy’s. “You already love me.” And kisses him.
Love love love. The world swirls around Tommy’s brain, almost distracting him from the kiss against his lips. They’ve never used such a bold word before. Whether deliberately skirting around the issue or because they never felt so strongly before, there’s not a moment Tommy can remember where either of them said the word love in relation to each other. It brings into question Dream’s motives. Does he truly feel that way, now? Or is it just another trick to get Tommy to submit?
Dream brings up a hand to cup at Tommy’s crotch, and Tommy realizes that—at least for right now—he doesn’t give a shit.