Criminal Minds ~ DNF

22

It was June of 2018 when Dream took the redhead for his own. Fundy was drunk after a night on the town with friends and Clay had offered him a ride 'home'. The boy gladly accepted the stranger's proposal, smiling broadly and jabbering about how he was secretly a furry and didn't want his parents to think him a failure. Clay listened half-heartedly, more admiring the way Fundy's lips moved. By then, they'd arrived at Dream's house and the redhead hadn't even noticed that he never gave Dream his address. Sapnap was asleep, so Dream had to be quiet about this. He escorted Fundy downstairs and chained him to the floor, standard procedure.  

Something in Fundy's features made Dream want to give him more than that. He dragged the mattress off of the guest bed, hauled it to the basement and gave it to Fundy. Within minutes, the redhead was sound asleep, completely oblivious to the danger that sat cross-legged in front of him. Dream stayed even after soft snores filled the otherwise empty room. Something about him gave him an edge of innocence and the beauty he possessed was undeniable. What potential... 

The next morning, though, Fundy was furious. As Dream had re-entered the basement, Fundy immediately went full hissy-fit mode. 

"Where the fuck am I?" He'd shouted, straining against the chains Dream had wrapped around his wrists. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing in particular," Dream responded cooly. 

"Why've you got me here then?" Fundy shot, letting out a hiss of pain as the shackles tightened around his hands. 

"Because I thought you were hot," Dream said truthfully.

"And asking for my number wouldn't have sufficed?"

"I take it you don't know who I am," Clay raised an eyebrow

"I don't."

"Fundy, my name is Dream. I'm a serial murderer," he told the redhead calmly.

"So what, you're gonna kill me now?" Despite his angry exterior, Fundy's tone was laced with genuine fear. 

"Not if you're good," Dream told him nonchalantly. He kind of wanted to keep this one. He was nice (when he was drunk) and he had a pretty face - something that not many people did. It was round, thin and fox-like, which he was told was the reason the man was a furry. (Bit strange, really.)

"Hmmph," Fundy breathed. He sat down, contemplating his escape from the room. As far as he was concerned, there was one standing across the room from him. It was the simplest one too. He would play along, be nice to the killer and when he trusted him enough to unchain him, Fundy would bolt.

And play along he did. Fundy and Dream talked for hours, about everything from horses (Fundy didn't like them) to countries they wanted to visit (if Dream let Fundy live). Fundy grew to like Clay more than he let on, getting genuinely excited when he heard the blonde unbolting the door. The chains had come off a week later, but no matter how he tried, Fundy couldn't bring himself to break the little window and let himself out. Another week and Fundy was allowed to go upstairs (under strict supervision, of course). Though the front door was wide open and Dream had his back turned, the redhead still didn't run. This puzzled Clay. Why wouldn't he leave if given the opportunity? He asked Fundy this, too confused to go on.

"Because..." Fundy had thought for a moment before answering. Why did he stay? What was in it for him? Nothing. Nothing except Dream.

"Because you're not as bad as you make out to be." With that, Fundy had leaned over and pushed his lips onto Clay's.

Clay was stunned. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. After the initial shock wore off he kissed back, moving their lips together with practised ease. Both fought for dominance and were unsurprised when Clay won.

And that was that. Clay and Fundy, living alongside each other. By then, people had stopped looking for the redhead, assuming him to be dead. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. Sapnap took some convincing but in the end, he found he didn't mind. He couldn't exactly judge, he had his Karl. Everything. Was. Perfect.

Then Fundy got sick.

It had started off as a mild case of the flu, nothing really to worry about. Clay cared for his Fundy as if he were a child, bringing him anything and everything he needed. For this, Fundy was grateful. It was good to know that he had someone who loved him.

But Fundy got worse.

And Dream started worrying.

Three days after the original onset of the infection, Fundy was barely breathing. Dream needed to figure something out, and fast. In the end, it got to the point where Dream feared for the redhead's life. So, he sacrificed himself to call an ambulance for Fundy.

When emergency services arrived, Clay explained his lover's condition, keeping his head down as much as possible as the paramedics worked around Fundy. They bought him out to the ambulance and Dream followed. Though it was a sure-fire way to get caught, he had to make sure Fundy was okay.

"It's good you called in when you did," one of the first responders told him. "Another day and he wouldn't have made it." Her words didn't make Clay feel any better. He just sat behind Fundy's head, stroking the hair away from his face.

Clay could hear the paramedics whispering about how closely Fundy resembled the kid who was kidnapped two months ago. They whispered about Dream too, theorizing as to who he was. He heard the one driving whisper into her walkie, calling for police backup. If it wasn't for the redhead in front of him, he would have stopped the car and slit their throats. Dream kept his head down.

Of course, as soon as they entered the emergency room, Dream was apprehended and Fundy was whisked away. Clay just let them take him - he deserved it, anyway.

When the police gave him updates on Fundy's condition, they thought they were taunting him, but Dream was grateful. The redhead was getting better, thank God. Dream missed him, but it wouldn't be long before they were reunited. Dream could see at least seven possible exits of the cell he was being held in. He'd be back with Fundy in no time.

Until the news came that the redhead had passed away during the night. The doctors had tried to resuscitate him to no avail, in the end letting him go.

Any plans of escape left Dream's mind. He accepted his fate, for what was the outside world without his Fundy?

That was, until three years later, a brunette FBI agent had walked into Pandora's Box.

"What happened with Fundy was just a freak accident," Dream said aloud to no one in particular. "I won't let it happen again."

But when he went into the basement, George was sneezing.