Chapter Text
Dream woke up in bed.
Which in itself wasn’t all that weird. The warden had allowed him a bed and he could remember being held down on a bed when- He didn’t expect to wake up still on the bed though. Foggy as his memory was, Dream remembered the pain very well. Too well. The fragments of his memories were scattered but one thing was clear - he had upset the warden and the warden punished him for it. Severely.
After a punishment like that, Dream expected to come to himself on a hard floor with more than just one mark marring his skin. He was bad. He made the warden angry enough to use a knife, a tool usually only used by sir during his visits. And if that wasn’t enough, Dream also dared to mentally clock out during the punishment. Or at least he thought he did. He wasn’t sure. The way he woke up felt more like waking up from sleep than dragging himself out of that faraway safe place inside his mind. Then again, one could lead to another. Dream really hoped that wasn’t the case. To zone out on the warden was already bad enough but to also fall asleep after? That was a recipe for trouble.
For such bad behavior, Dream expected to lose his privileges but the soft sheets beneath him and the blanket thrown over his legs suggested otherwise. The warden still allowed him to sleep in bed rather than on the floor and that was a little blessing. Dream had been cut open and stitched together enough times to know that the floor wouldn’t be kind to his wounds. Or any part of him for that matter.
Being allowed to keep the bed meant that however bad things were with the warden, they could always be worse. Maybe, if Dream was very, very careful to not disobey the warden again, things could be okay to some degree. The warden rarely hurt him without a good reason. Or … at least some reason … Any reason.
He couldn’t remember what the reason was this time, his memories were foggy and it was hard to distinguish between reality and dreams. He could swear that Quackity had been there, but he could also swear that he saw Bad and that didn’t make any sense. He must’ve dreamed up one of them … or both. Maybe he also dreamed up Sam hurting him?
Dream really hoped that Sam cutting him open as Quackity did was just another nightmare. But then he shifted and pain flared up in his side, telling him that it wasn’t a dream. He really pushed Sam far enough to-
Suddenly anxious, Dream weekly looked around the room. What if the warden was still there? What if there was more? Just one cut was too little, sir’d never settle for that little and- The scared little voice at the back of Dream’s head fell silent when he took in his surroundings.
This wasn’t his room, it was …
No, no that was bad! He wasn’t supposed to be in Sam’s room! He was going to make the warden mad again! Fueled by panic and adrenaline, Dream scrambled to get off of the bed and out of the room before the warden found him there but just when he attempted to stand up, the door creaked open, revealing Sam.
Dream’s legs practically gave out under him the moment he saw the creeper hybrid and Sam was by his side immediately, catching him and holding him up while he tried to steady himself again.
“Easy, Dream. You’re recovering. Just sit down, okay?”
Before the blond could even try to protest, he was already sitting on the edge of the mattress with Sam’s hands hovering over him as if the creeper was worried that he might crumble to pieces any moment. It was such a stark contrast from Sam gagging him and cutting into him … Dream almost wondered if he hadn’t imagined Sam hurting him after all but the dull pain in his side that he was all too familiar with was an undeniable proof.
Sam had hurt him. Dream just couldn’t remember why. He didn’t remember much from the past few days actually … How long had it even been? The last thing he remembered clearly was going to help Sam with the garden but his side hurt too much. After that, Dream's memories stopped making sense. He remembered being cold, but also burning hot. He saw sir, but he also saw his friends. He remembered the warden punishing him by drenching him in cold water - he remembered that one with more clarity than the rest. But he also remembered Sam tucking him in under blankets when he shivered. And most recently, he remembered the warden cutting him open while talking about helping him.
He didn’t remember that very well. It was all clouded by fear and pain and the familiar yet painful sting of betrayal. Of course, Dream should’ve seen it coming but a stupid little part of him really trusted Sam, so much that for a moment he forgot what they were. Even outside of the prison, Sam was still the warden and Dream was still just a prisoner. And the warden could do whatever he wanted to keep his prisoner in line. Even if the said prisoner didn’t even know what he did wrong.
Speaking of what he did wrong, Dream should figure it out sooner rather than later. He needed to know what he did in order to not do it again. He had to get better and the sooner he did the better. But what if he makes Sam mad by asking him? What if his mistake was obvious and by asking he only proves how stupid and unfixable he is. What if-
The back of Sam’s hand pressed against his forehead and snapped Dream out of his thoughts. He froze, dreading a second round of punishment after he failed to be present and learn the first time. But Sam didn’t do anything.
After a few moments, Sam’s hand drifted from Dream’s forehead to his cheek, then it withdrew. The blond didn’t understand the purpose of the gesture or why Sam seemed relieved when he pulled back. Then the creeper spoke and the pieces clicked together.
“It seems that the fever finally went down, but you still feel warmer than you should.”
Fever? He had a fever? That actually explained why his skin was so sweaty and why he felt so tired in spite of having just woken up. Subcontiously, Dream raised his own hand to his forehead to test what Sam was saying.
Did the warden punish him for being sick? It was possible but it didn’t feel quite right. The warden was strict, and sometimes also cruel, but surely he wouldn’t punish Dream for something as out of his control as getting sick? But maybe he did something bad while he was too feverish to realize that left the warden with no other choice but to punish him? It didn’t feel fair to be punished for something he did when he was barely lucid, but it’s not like it’d be the first time. Or maybe the warden didn’t know that he was too sick to think straight. Or maybe - more likely - the warden didn’t consider fever to be a sufficient excuse for stepping out of line. It’d make sense … unfair as it was.
“You should rest more. Maybe try to sleep it off?”
Sam continued, oblivious to all the questions that were swirling around in Dream’s head. Perhaps it was better that way. As things were, Dream’s thoughts were straying a bit too close to the dangerous territory of doubting the warden’s decision. And nothing good ever came from doubting the warden’s decisions. Keeping that in mind, the blond forced himself to focus on the creeper hybrid again. Failing to listen when the warden was talking was also a fast way to get in trouble.
“I didn’t expect you to wake up so soon, so I —”
Looking almost embarrassed in the way that was so out of character for the always composed warden, Sam bent down to pick up the two items he dropped and which Dream completely failed to notice. Once they were back in Sam’s hands though, he recognized them instantly.
“I brought you these to make you more comfortable.”
Sam said, placing Hope the plush and a familiar blanket in Dream’s lap. The blond simply stared at the items for a while before he carefully tried to sit up.
The moment he tried to move through, pain shot through his side from the freshly stitched wound and so his desire to get closer to the warden's level remained nothing but a foolish wish. It was probably better that way.
The warden must've noticed his attempts though as the next thing Dream knew, there was a hand closing in on him. He shied back on instinct, afraid of the warden’s retribution for his careless attempt to be anything but below the warden. But no pain came. He wasn’t slapped across the face for his inappropriate behavior, nor was he pushed further down. When Dream managed to look again, he wasn’t met with an angry warden but with a concerned looking Sam instead.
“Dream?”
Sam questioned softly.
“Are you okay?”
Was he okay? Truth to be told, Dream didn’t know. He hurt and he still didn’t know what he did to deserve a punishment or why he was in Sam’s room. But that probably wasn’t what Sam wanted to hear. Dream couldn’t complain about a punishment, that’d be like undermining the warden’s authority and that wasn’t allowed. And questioning why he was in Sam’s room was not relevant to the question. The creeper was probably asking about the wound. It’d be inconvenient for the warden if the wound got infected after all. Why did that thought nag at him? It was as if he was forgetting something … something important.
“Yes-”
The word ‘warden’ nearly slipped out by the force of habit but Dream caught himself in time. The warden didn’t want to be called warden anymore. He preferred to be called ‘Sam’ now. He was Sam … and also the warden. It was hard to see the two as the same person sometimes. Sam was so nice to him! The warden … less so.
“Sam.”
He finished.
The creeper hybrid looked him up and down for a minute, likely sensing that something was off, that Dream almost misspoke. Would he be punished for that? Sam wasn’t so harsh lately but after the last punishment Dream just wasn’t sure. If the warden could go as far as to use sir’s punishment for something Dream did while he wasn’t even lucid enough to remember then who was to say he wouldn’t punish him for this as well?
But when Sam’s hand resumed its movement towards him it wasn’t to strike him for his hesitation before calling Sam the right name. Instead the creeper took the blanket from Dream’s lap and spread it across his legs, adding another layer of comforting warmth. Then he stood up and walked over to the window, opening it to let in some fresh air.
“It’s okay if you don’t feel well, Dream. It- it was a lot. You should rest, give yourself time to heal.”
Sam said as he moved back to Dream’s bedside. The blond busied himself by turning Hope over in his hands but while he kept his head down, choosing not to look at the creeper after the other mentioned his punishment, he still tracked the warden’s movements out of the corner of his eye. In the back of his mind, Dream was already calculating the warden’s striking range. It was more of a habit than a conscious thought, just something that had proved necessary over the past months. Maybe longer. Prime, how long ago did he start taking notice of when people would get close enough to hit him?
“... yes.”
Dream answered mechanically after the silence following Sam’s words stretched on for too long.
At least his conditions were now considerably better than after all of the punishments in the prison. It was a little confusing but a welcomed change nonetheless. Back then, the warden would never tell him to rest and heal up. No, instead sir would make sure his wounds never had the time to heal fully before they were replaced by newer ones. Plus he had the bed, at least for now, and if he was lucky maybe Sam’d even feed him. In prison he normally wouldn’t after something like this, but maybe …
“Great, great …”
For some reason, Sam looked about as unsure and confused as Dream felt, which did nothing to make the blond feel any safer. Why would the warden look like that? Why would he hover near him as if Dream was something that could shatter at a moment’s notice? It didn’t make sense. The warden usually knew exactly what to do after punishing his prisoner. He always had a plan, one that usually involved cutting the already minimal amount of medical attention that Dream got to the absolute barest minimum necessary and denying him food for at least a few days.
Then again, Sam was a lot nicer lately, so maybe it made sense that even his attitude after a punishment shifted. Still, to be in Sam’s room …Dream shifted on the bed a little, mindful of the stitches and tried to get a better look around the room, hoping for any hint of how or why he was there.
Sam must’ve caught on to what he was trying to do because the next thing Dream knew, the creeper spoke up, answering the questions Dream didn’t dare to ask.
“If you want to, you can sleep here. Or I can take you to your room, if you’d prefer that? I brought you here so you could rest while I changed the sheets on your bed but your room is ready now. I’d just rather not move you around right after giving you stitches … honestly I hoped you’d sleep longer. You need a lot of rest.”
So Sam had carried him … That made sense. Considering the fact that he had no memory of getting from his room to Sam’s, it must ‘ve happened after he spaced out or after his consciousness bid him farewell sometime soon after. Why wouldn't the warden just lay him down on the floor while changing the blood soaked sheets? Why change them at all? It wasn’t like Dream was unused to laying in a pool of his own blood.
But these questions were irrelevant at the moment. First, he had to find the right answer to Sam’s question. But what could that be? He certainly didn’t want to steal Sam’s bed, even if for just a day or two before he was safer to move around. Since when did they care about his safety? So he should probably go back to the room meant for him. However, then he’d have to trouble the warden with carrying him. He shouldn’t have to burden the warden with it but his side hurt when he tried to as much as sit up, his joints ached, his limbs felt like they were trapped in lead and his eyes were heavy in spite of having just woken up.
“I-”
What was he supposed to say? He was going to mess up and the warden was going to be mad and he was going to call sir or take the knife again and-
“It’s okay, Dream. It’s okay, just breathe.”
Sam said, interrupting his spiral and bringing it to Dream’s attention just how irregular his breathing had gotten.
“I promise it’s okay if you stay here, Dream. I’m not gonna be mad and I can always just sleep in your room for a few days if that’s fine with you.”
If it was fine with him? How could it not be? He’d never try to tell Sam what to do in his own house!
Concluding that the question was a test, Dream answered.
“It’s okay, wa- Sam. I’m happy with whatever arrangement you prefer.”
The answer should’ve been the correct one. Dream was sure of it! And yet, Sam didn’t look happy with it. Quite the opposite in fact. The creeper sighed, shaking his head disappointed.
“Dream, I’m asking what you want.”
Sam didn’t sound angry per se. Not in the way that would result in broken bones at least. But he wasn’t pleased either and that was enough to make Dream’s eyes fill with useless tears. He hated the burn behind his eyelids and the fact that he could tell that Sam would notice. He hated crying in front of Sam or anyone for that matter. But at the same time he wasn’t able to will the tears away. Fear and confusion mixed inside him, creating an undesirable cocktail of anxiety that Drema had no idea what to do with.
When did he go wrong? What did he do to make Sam mad? Why was Sam like this again? Now that Dream finally started to believe that things could not be so awful for once. But here he was again, facing a displeased warden and a question he didn't have an answer to. What was he supposed to say? What answer would make the creeper less upset? Why did he always have to mess up like this? He was so pathetic and now he couldn’t even do the bare minimum and will his tears away. How frustrating.
“I- sorry, I-”
Sam must’ve noticed his teary eyes and the tremble in his voice, something Dream knew would happen but really hoped to avoid. Per usual though, there was no escaping the warden’s watchful gaze. There never was. But this time, Sam didn’tt look annoyed or angry. He looked concerned and … was that guilt in his eyes? No that couldn’t be. There was nothing Sam should feel guilty about.
“Hey, hey it’s okay, Dream.”
The creeper said, hovering hesitantly with his hands raised in a placating gesture as if Dream was a spooked animal Sam was trying to calm down. The thought stirred something ugly in Dream that hissed at the thought of being regarded as such. A bigger part of him was just grateful that the warden didn’t go back to slapping sense into him. Although, that possibility was still on the table if he didn’t get a grip.
“I shouldn't have pushed it. It’s okay. Just stay here for now. I’ll check on the stitches tomorrow and we’ll move from there, okay?”
Hesitantly, Dream nodded his head. It still felt like failure, the warden had given him a question and he failed to answer, but at the same time he was grateful that Sam took the decision out of his hands. It was better that way. Sam was more competent to make decisions, Dream’s own decisions didn’t land him anywhere good.
“Okay- I … okay.”
Sam said, sounding oddly lost. Sounding so lost was uncharacteristic for the warden and the knowledge that Sam might not be sure about his next steps sent a spike of anxiety running through Dream. What if Sam decided to call sir? Or take him back to the prison? Or both? Or- Dream ran his tongue over his lips nervously, noting how dry they were. He couldn’t remember the last time he drank. Would Sam be mad at him if he asked about Quackity? What if the warden hadn't thought of the possibility of calling sir back yet and Dream’d only remind him that he could? But what if he already called him? If that was the case, Dream’d rather know in advance.
“Do you want anything-?”
The sudden question from Sam startled Dream more than he’d like to admit. For a second, he almost forgot that the creeper was still so close. He seemed to be forgetting a lot lately.
Nervous, the blond ran his tongue over his lips again, suddenly hyperaware of how dry they were now that he noticed it. A glass of water sounded heavenly and Sam asked, hadn’t he? But … was Dream allowed to want something like that? Wasn’t asking for things that he could easily get himself be something that’d make the warden realize? But …
“I- can I have-?”
He started hesitantly, only to be interrupted by a cough. It caught painfully in his dry throat and Dream knew that there was no arguing with his body on this one. Whenever the last time he drank was, it was way too long ago.
“Can I have water, please?”
“Of course!”
Sam shot up to his feet, looking almost relieved to Dream’s surprise.
“I’ll get it for you right away.”
And just like that, the creeper was out of the room and Dream could only hope that he really went to get him water and not to grab the knife again. It was unlikely that Sam would go through the effort of stitching him up and relocating him and even bringing him his comfort items only to cut him open right after, but Dream had learned that expecting the worst was the best way to not end up surprised by pain.
A familiar sound of paws hitting the floor came from outside the room, preventing Dream from worrying about the warden’s intentions for any longer. A white paw appeared in the crack between the door and the frame, pawning at the wood in an attempt to make it open. Once the gap was big enough, a white snout pushed the door open completely and a wolf slipped inside.
Fran looked proud of herself for succeeding in her stealth mission but that pride was nothing compared to the joy radiating off the wolf’s whole body the moment she saw Dream. With her tail wagging like crazy, Fran padded over to the bed where she nudged Dream’s hand with her wet snout, clearly demanding some well-deserved pets. And how could Dream deny her?
“Good girl.”
Chuckled the blond as he forced his heavy hand to move and go through the motions of petting one very excited wolf. Fran preened at the attention, pressing her head further against his hand and craning her neck to receive some deluxe neck scratches.
“Fran!”
Upon hearing her owner, Fran paused in her pursuit of cuddles and turned to him. She didn’t seem worried about being caught at all, which sent a jolt of jealousy through Dream. Why did a wolf - a pet - not have to fear the warden’s or anyone’s wrath, yet he had to live in constant fear of fucking up and getting punished for it? How was that fair?
Then again he probably wasn’t being fair to Fran. It was not her fault that their situations were so different. And he couldn’t blame anyone else either. Fran was way too sweet and innocent for anyone to stay mad at her or godforbid punish her.
Even now, as Sam stared at her in a mix of horror, disappointment and acceptance, knowing that she will get away with not listening to him again, Fran only tilted her head to the side with her tongue lolling out, further confirming that she was too cute for consequences. Maybe if he was that precious he also wouldn’t get punished. Sadly, for him, he had no cuteness or soft fur to keep him safe.
“Fran, I told you to let Dream rest.”
Sam sighed, but as expected, he did nothing to punish Fran for disobeying him. Because unlike Dream, Fran didn’t need punishments. She wasn’t as dangerous as him. She didn’t need to be kept in line. That was fine. It was just the way things were.
Prime only knows how long the blond would have spent pitying the fact that he wasn’t a wolf who could get away with anything by simply being irresistibly cute, if Sam hadn’t passed him a glass of water. He nearly dropped it the first time, his trembling fingers struggling to close around it. But eventually he got a grip on the slippery glass and brought it to his mouth. It didn’t really fix his dry cracked lips but at least his throat no longer felt like a desert biome, which was good enough in Dream’s opinion.
“Sorry about her. I have no idea how she got in here. I can-”
Sam started, looking ready to escort Fran out of the room with his fingers already closing around her collar but Dream stopped him before he could think it through and realize how bad an idea it was to interrupt the warden.
“It’s fine. I like her here.”
Something so close to demand should’ve gotten him in trouble and if Dream’s mind was clearer he’d never dare interrupt Sam like that. But as things were, he just really wanted Fran to stay. She was nice and maybe a naive little part of him hoped that Sam would be less likely to hurt him with someone else around to witness the cruelty, even if that someone was just a woof that’d surely pick Sam above Dream any day.
Surprisingly, Sam seemed to genuinely consider what Dream said instead of snapping at him for interrupting him. Even more surprisingly, he ended up agreeing.
“Okay, as long as she’s not stepping all over you or trying to lay on top of you, I guess it’s fine.”
Sam shrugged, letting go of the collar. With her freedom back, Fran wasted no time half climbing onto the bed, with her front legs and upper body on the covers while her hind legs remained on the floor. With her new position optimized for top tier scratches at the nape of her neck, she closed her eyes contently and let herself be adored and petted. Dream happily obliged and scratched her but with the warden back in the room he couldn’t bring himself to relax like he did before. Anxiety was gnawing at him, no matter how hard he tried to push it down.
The warden didn’t seem to be interested in dealing out more punishment, not right away at least, but a scared paranoid voice in the back of Dream’s mind worried that the warden might just be reluctant to get his own hands dirty during the more brutal punishments. What if … what if the warden called him to deal with the problem instead? What if this was just a short moment of respite before the real hell began?
Maybe Dream was being paranoid but he had to know. Without realizing it, he gripped his blanket, trying to find comfort in the familiar texture. The fingers of his other hand curled into Fran’s fur, mindful not to hurt the wolf. It helped a little, the familiar worn wool and soft fur under his fingers were a balm to his nerves but all comfort items and cuddly pets in the world wouldn’t be enough to make asking any easier. But he did. He did because not knowing was somehow worse.
“W- Sam?”
He started hesitantly. The creeper’s attention was on him immediately, much faster than Dream’d like but he suppressed the urge to shy away and quiet down.
“Is he- sir- Quackity , is he coming?”
If the duck hybrid was on the way to deliver more punishment, Dream had to know. It wouldn’t change anything. He couldn’t run and he doubted he’d be able to reason with the warden, but at least he’d know and that’d be better than the suspense.
“What?!”
Sam looked at him as if he had spontaneously grown a second head and his unexpected shout of surprise was enough for Dream to startle. He flinched hard, regretting the action almost immediately as it pulled at his stitches. Sam’s expression also grew concerned when he saw the pain in Dream’s eyes, but confused panic and urgency was still audible in his voice when he continued.
“No, no, of course he’s not! Prime, Dream, why'd you think that?”
Now it was Dream’s turn to be confused. Wasn’t it obvious?
“Because- because you punished me?”
He said, suddenly hesitant.
“So, I thought that maybe …”
Dream drifted off when he noticed the look of horror on Sam’s face.
You punished me.
The words resonated in Sam’s head even after Dream fell silent. They haunted him. Not just because Dream was so quick to believe that all Sam’s promises to never punish him again were lies. Of course it hurt that Dream trusted him so little, but Sam couldn’t really blame him for it after everything that happened in Pandora. No, what hurt him the most was the fact that he should’ve seen this development coming. Dream was hardly in the right state of mind when he tried to calm him down and explain. And then to make matters worse he also snapped at him … It made sense that he misunderstood Sam’s actions. Or at least Sam assumed so. He had no idea how Dream’s trauma wired brain functioned but it wasn’t hard to imagine that pain was associated with punishment in Dream’s mind. Sam himself had made sure of that.
It helped him keep his consciousness clear when he convinced himself that each time he hit Dream it was deserved. It made him feel better- It made him feel justified . It made him feel like he was doing the right thing and a good person even if he was anything but. And thinking about it now, after seeing the effects it had on Dream, Sam wondered if he really beat that misguided belief so deep into him that even now he still clung to it. If maybe Dream really was still convinced that it really was all deserved. That he must have recently done something wrong to deserve being punished even when there was nothing. But why? Dream had to know that no one deserved to be treated like that. That even when Sam had an actual reason he was still wrong for doing so. That not only was it not okay to punish others but there was nothing that Dream did wrong anyways … But maybe Dream just needed to believe that he could really avoid the pain if he was behaving better or maybe … maybe it made Sam’s betrayal hurt less if he believed that Sam was not just hurting him for no reason.
The creeper wasn’t sure which opinion hurt more so he decided to think about neither. Not at that moment at least. He could try his hand at homebrewed therapy later. For the moment though, he prioritized explaining the situation to Dream in hopes words could undo the reasoning pain had created in Dream’s mind.
“Dream I …”
Sam started only to run out of words almost immediately. Where should he start? Should he reassure Dream? Tell him that he misunderstood the situation? Apologize?
“Quackity isn’t coming.”
He decided on, because it was the best way to make Dream relax and the most foundation concept for him to reconcile.
“I told you, I’m never going to let him hurt you again, and I mean it. He’s never coming back, Dream. Never.”
The confusion with which Dream looked at him showed just how much that really was not what the blond had expected him to say. There was a mix of disbelief and hesitation in Dream’s eyes like he was worried he didn’t hear Sam right.
“Really?”
Dream asked, loosening his grip on the blankets a little bit. His other hand hesitantly moved over Fran’s fur, not gripping it quite as tightly as before, but still clearly using the feeling of it under his fingers to soothe him.
“Really.”
Confirmed Sam, trying to make the word sound as reassuring as he possibly could. Dream still didn’t look convinced, but Sam took the fact that he wasn't actively gripping a wolf or a blanket as if his life depended on it as progress.
“I also promised not to punish you. I meant that too, Dream.”
This time, Dream’s confusion was even clearer, mixed with the fear and anxiety Sam was unfortunately too used to seeing in the other.
“But- you-”
Dream looked around the room in confusion, looking anywhere but at Sam. He looked a little bit like a confused puppy, which would be cute if the puppy wasn’t confused about why it got kicked. Eventually, the blond’s eyes settled on his torso, where the stitched wound was hidden underneath clothes and bandages.
Sam could swear that Dream was biting his tongue to stop himself from continuing and disagreeing with him, and Sam grew concerned with how that could affect the blond’s recently dislocated jaw. But as much as he wanted to comment on it and perhaps advise Dream to not do it, he couldn’t bring himself to. Dream might think that he did something wrong which wasn’t the effect Sam was aiming for at all. Besides, the fact that Dream was so scared of displeasing him was just as concerning.
“It wasn’t meant to be a punishment... I’m sorry it felt like one.”
The confusion in Dream’s eyes only grew with each of Sam’s words and the creeper felt the weight of his failure pressing down on him. This wasn’t what he wanted. Of course, his actions were necessary, he was helping Dream- The blond already looked better! His skin was still clammy, sweat was still forming on his forehead, his eyes were still glassy and his movements slower than usual, but he was alive, lucid and no longer running warmer than Sam. But while that could justify Sam’s actions, it didn’t make the effect they had on Dream any better.
“But then why …?”
“Dream do you … do you remember why you were sick?”
Sam asked cautiously, unsure of how badly the fever affected Dream. He was drifting in and out of focus and hallucinated, it was very possible he didn’t remember it clearly. And indeed, Dream seemed to be struggling to remember, sounding unsure of himself when he spoke.
“I … I was … there was an infection?”
Relief flooded Sam upon knowing that Dream at least remembered that as it would make explaining a whole lot easier, but it was dimmed by guilt and shame almost immediately. Dream was shying away from him, curling in on himself just a little as if he was worried that Sam might hit him for the wrong answer, or any answer actually. He still wasn’t looking directly at Sam just watching the creeper out of the corner of his eye. Taking notice of it, Sam kept his voice gentle and hands visible.
“Yes, yes, you had an infection trapped under your skin and I- I didn’t want to hurt you, Dream, but I had to drain it.”
“Oh …”
Dream’s eyes focused on Fran, who had moved so her head was resting across Dream thighs. There was acceptance in his voice and that should be enough for Sam, but instead of dropping it, he continued. He didn’t want Dream to think that he didn’t have the right to feel hurt by what Sam did. Because Sam saw it when Dream mistook the shower that was meant to help him for punishment just as he did with this. Sam was doing what was necessary or what he thought was necessary, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t hurt Dream in the process. It was so clear in retrospect. He should’ve put more effort into calming Dream down, to explain the situation, he shouldn’t have gagged him like that for starters. In retrospect, there were a lot of things he should have done differently and he could blame it on his own panic, but that was still no excuse.
“I just wanted to help you, Dream, but I- I also hurt you, didn’t I? And for that, I am sorry. I see now that I was wrong in how I handled the situation.”
Visibly shocked, Dream snapped his head towards Sam. This time it was the creeper’s turn to look away. He hated how surprised Dream was by Sam admitting his mistake. He hated the fact that he understood why Dream was so shocked even more. Ever since he became the warden, how many times had he admitted to being wrong about something? He didn’t know but it certainly wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
“No, no- you …”
Momentarily, Dream seemed almost scared, as if he couldn’t comprehend the idea of Sam admitting to doing something wrong despite the fact that this wasn't the first time. For a moment, Sam almost worried that Dream was going to try to defend him. For better or worse though, the blond seemed to think better of it. Catching a glimpse of the bruises around the blond’s wrists, Sam decided that it was certainly for the best.
“Dream, even if I had a good reason to do what I did, I still hurt you. You …”
The words didn’t come easy to him. Back in Pandora, as the warden, Sam’d never said anything of the sort and even now, when he tried to be better, it was hard. He had excused all of his actions in the prison as necessary evils, something that had to be done. So, Dream had no right to complain. The prisoner had no right to complain because Sam was the warden and the warden only did what was necessary. But even he knew that was a lie. The only reason he tried to take away Dream’s right to disagree was because the blond was right and Sam couldn’t bear facing that truth. But he couldn’t keep avoiding it like that.
“You have every right to be mad at me, Dream. It’s okay if you are.”
Dream didn’t seem to know what to say. He didn’t react beyond his grip on the blanket tightening momentarily before relaxing again. Perhaps it was a lot to take in after all the times Sam had spent telling him the exact opposite. Perhaps he was scared to believe it. Perhaps words couldn’t easily undo the mentalities pain crafted.
Uncomfortable, thick silence settled between them, only interrupted by Fran’s quiet whine as she asked for pets, sweetly oblivious to the situation. Joined after by the rhythmic sound of her tail hitting Sam’s knee when she got them. To say that the situation was awkward, would be an understatement. Sam didn’t know what to say and Dream seemed content to not say anything at all. Maybe Sam should just go, let the blond rest … Yes, that sounded like a good idea.
“I’ll let you rest. Call me if you need anything?”
It wasn’t meant to be a question but it came out like one anyway and Sam facepalmed mentally upon realizing it. He didn’t want to sound unsure, he meant what he said. But it was too late to change anything about it.
At last, Dream nodded, although he didn’t look sure at all. Sam hoped with all his heart that Dream really would call him if needed but he wasn’t one hundred percent sure. It was something at least.
Deciding that it was the best he was going to get, Sam stood up and moved towards the door, determined to give Dream the space to sleep or do anything that might help him. But before he could leave, he realized that there was one more thing to address.
“And Dream?”
Sam said with his hand on the doorhandle.
“If I ever do something that’s unnecessary and hurting you, or if I do something wrong in a way that hurts you … I need you to tell me, okay?”
Dream didn’t answer right away. In fact he seemed to be thinking. Sam could almost see the gears turn in his head. Eventually, he nodded, short, hesitant, not quite sincere. Sam swore he could hear a desperate mutter of “but I tried ” carry over the room, but it was too soft and fleeting for him to be sure.
“Is that- is that a rule, wa- Sam?”
Dream asked instead, making Sam pause. He didn't want to make it a rule. He didn’t want to give Dream more rules lest things snowball. But at the same time … the new rules were meant to protect Dream. And this- this was for his protection wasn’t it? If he made it a rule, Sam could be at ease, knowing that Dream wouldn’t keep quiet out of fear …
“Yeah I- yeah, let’s make it a rule. I can write it down for you or-”
He said eventually, not proud about the decision but needing the reassurance that Dream really would tell him.
“I’m not going to punish you if you break it, Dream. I just … I want to know how to help you and I want you to tell me if I do something wrong.”
Dream didn’t meet Sam's eyes when the creeper left the room. All Sam heard from him before he closed the door was a quiet, hollow, “okay.”
It was not the ideal outcome, it was far from it actually, but he did his best not to think about it. Dream was okay. He was alive, his fever broke and he was safe. It was going to be okay. Once the blond felt better, Sam could try to ask him for advice about handling these situations better, afterall, the blond had spent more time with Bad than Sam did. For now though, all that mattered was that he was okay.
And so, Sam stopped himself from worrying. Instead, he busied himself around the house, working on his redstone inventions and reorganizing his chests.
Only later, when he sat on the couch after finding Dream asleep during his last check up, did he allow himself to think about the day’s events.
He never addressed the dissociation nor apologized for the fact that he was the reason why Dream’s jaw got dislocated. But how was he supposed to bring it up? Maybe … maybe Dream didn’t even realize or remember what had happened with his jaw. Sam’s own jaw unhinged naturally so he wouldn’t know what it felt like for humans but … but Dream wasn’t showing any signs of further discomfort so maybe it wasn’t that bad? Besides if he didn’t remember, Sam really, really didn’t want to be the one to tell him. What would be the point? He had fixed it. It was fine now.
As for the dissociation … Sam shuddered at the memory of Dream’s vacant eyes staring at him. He never wanted to see that look on Dream again and he wanted to be the cause of it even less.
Deep down, Sam knew he should’ve addressed it. He knew that he should’ve apologized and talked with Dream about it, but when the moment came, he froze. It was so much easier to just … avoid it. Dream didn’t bring it up. He never would with the conditioning that ran deeper than his scars and if Sam didn’t bring it up either … maybe he could pretend that it never happened.
Of course, Sam knew that that wasn’t how the world worked. It wouldn’t go away just because he buried his head in the sand and refused to look at the problem. But knowing that didn’t make talking to Dream about it any easier.
Besides, what would talking about it change? It had already happened and he didn’t do it on purpose. He just did what was necessary to save Dream and if he had to he’d do it again. Dissociation was still a hundred times better than death. And yet …
The memory of Dream’s limp body in his arms flashed through Sam’s mind. He remembered it too well - Dream’s vacant eyes looking past him, the way the blond felt more like a lifeless doll in his arms, his own desperate voice sounding too close to begging when he urged Dream to snap out of it- But Dream didn’t snap out of it. Not this time. Instead, his breathing had evened out and his eyes slipped closed. He had woken up later, scared but aware and responding. But what if he didn’t? What if one day he shut down and didn’t stir again? What if he fell so deep into his mind that Sam wouldn’t be able to coax him back out? What if Dream didn’t want to come out?
Sam’s spiral was interrupted by a wet snout pressing against his hand. He looked up and was greeted by one Fran, trying to force her head under his palm for some pets. Upon sensing his eyes on her, the wolf stopped and looked up at her owner with worried eyes. She had spent the majority of the day keeping Dream company, but once her primary scratch provider fell asleep, she left the room and opted to nap on the carpet instead. At least, till now.
Now, she was staring up at Sam, angling herself for scratches that apparently took too long to come if her soft whining was anything to go by. Sighing, Sam petted her, wondering which one of them really called the shots at his house.
But even with the adorable, fluffy distraction, he wasn’t able to stop thinking about how things went with Dream.
“I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow.”
He said to no one in particular.
Deep down, he knew that it was a lie.