𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐑, dreamnoblade oneshots

𝐢 | here i am, staring at your perfection

here i am, staring at your perfection
- daylight, maroon 5

3,007 words !

➽───────────────❥

DREAM should've gotten a dog.

A dog wouldn't sneak out the open window in the middle of the day while he was half an hour away at work.

A dog wouldn't climb up a tree and get stuck, which would prompt one of the neighbors who, upon recognizing the dog, would look his number up in the apartment complex's phone book to tell him.

A dog wouldn't have Dream leaving work and driving home to try and coax the animal down.

If only Dream's sister liked dogs.

He sighs, staring up at the cat that peers through the branches. If Dream has to guess, that's fifty feet.

Patches mews softly.

"Dumb cat," Dream mutters.

He pulls out his phone. God, he hates asking for help.

There's something incredibly awkward about the idea. Is he really going to bother some poor fireman just because he has a small fear of heights?

Yes. Yes, he is.

Dream dials 911.

It doesn't even get past the first ring. Makes sense; you're only supposed to dial if someone's, like, dying.

Maybe he shouldn't have dialed.

Everyone in TV shows does it, though...

Yeah, whatever. This is fine.

"911, what's your emergency?" a cheerful, surprisingly youthful voice says.

Damn it. I actually have to say something now.

"Uh," Dream begins. "My..." He sighs. "My cat—"

"TUBBO!" someone shouts. "Those fuckin' teenagers are doing prank calls again!"

"Goddammit," the responder—Tubbo?—mutters. "Sorry, uh, just my co-worker. What's your emergency?"

Wow, Dream feels really bad about bothering this guy all for his cat. Teenagers doing prank calls... There are actual emergencies happening. What if someone dies because Patches got stuck in a tree and Dream was too much of a coward to get her down?

Oh, god.

"Sir," Tubbo says gently, "is everything okay?"

"I-it's not really that big of an issue," Dream manages. "My cat— She's stuck in a tree."

"Aw, poor thing," Tubbo says. "How far?"

Dream glances up at the tree again.

Patches blinks at him innocently.

He knows, though. She's a criminal. Those eyes won't fool him.

"Fifty feet?" Dream guesses.

"Damn. Good thing you didn't try to get her," Tubbo muses. "The branches up that far can't stand too much weight. What's the address? We'll dispatch someone now."

Dream gives him the apartment complex address, repeating it once when Tubbo asks, then verifying it as the address is repeated.

"Big man," another voice says. "Lunch break."