Conjugal Visitation

chapter 1

The lava had dropped and Sam was gone -- he hadn't wanted to stick around for this part. It was just him and Dream, alone together in a small obsidian room. He couldn't help thinking about that night he'd followed Dream after the Doomsday battle, intent on confronting the motherfucker alone. He'd cornered him in a small cave then, too...

But if he thought about that right now, he might not be able to go through with this. Quackity took a deep breath. He had a good poker face, but now was the time to prove to Dream that he wasn't just bluffing. He raised his weapon.

"Hey! Hey," Dream said, holding out his hands to placate Quackity. "You're not really going to use that axe, are you? After everything that's happened between us?"

If his face was hot, Quackity told himself, it was due to the lava. "Don't test me..."

Dream got a mischievous glint in his eye. "OK, then. Go ahead...You know how much I like pain."

"Fucking hell," Quackity muttered. Why did he have to follow Dream that day?

"You don't have to use the axe," Dream said. "I'll tell you anything you want."

Quackity narrowed his eyes. "Start talking. Better yet..." He pointed to the chest in the corner. "Start writing."

Dream, to his surprise, actually went to the chest, pulled out a book, and started writing. But he stopped after just a few scratches of the quill. "Here," he said, sauntering up to Quackity and thumping the book against his chest. This close, Quackity was acutely aware of how much taller Dream was, and of how much longer his hair had grown in prison. He was paler, too, making his scattered freckles more noticeable. He'd torn the sleeves off his prison uniform, and his arms looked way more muscled than he remembered. Had he been working out? Stuck in here all day, there must not be much else to do.

Quackity backed up a step, looking away. Dream smirked. Irritably, he ripped open the book. There was one sentence. Quackity read it, and re-read it. "Uh, what the fuck is this?"

"My conditions." Dream's smirk broadened.

"You want conjugal visitation privileges." Quackity read the words slowly, as if that would help Dream realize just how absurd of a request it was.

"What? It gets lonely in here." Dream laced his fingers together behind his head and no, Quackity was not staring at the interesting way that made his biceps flex.

"You're not in any position to make demands! I could just torture it out of you!"

"But where's the fun in that?" Dream grinned. "Unless you're into that kind of thing."

"I swear, Dream -- "

"OK, OK!" Dream rolled his eyes. "But listen, I have something you want. And you have something I want." Despite the fact that he was the one with the weapon, Quackity felt very exposed as Dream's eyes raked up and down his body. "Wouldn't I have more incentive to tell you the truth if I get something in return?"

"I can't promise this." Quackity shut the book. "Sam won't agree to let anyone else in here."

"You got in here," Dream said. "I'm sure you can persuade him."

"George won't even want to see you!"

"How do you know it's George I want to see?" Dream asked slyly.

Quackity's heart skipped a beat. Why? Why did he have to simp so hard for all the villains on the server? "Who else?" he scoffed.

Dream shrugged, making a show of counting on his fingers. "George...Fundy..."