Dreamswap Oneshots

V - Confession

You know, I've noticed that I've never really made Nightmare properly ask Dream out in the Sweammare mini-series so there we go.

I apologise for any... weird phrasing or so during your reading, I haven't written in a good month and my brain has been completely fried by exams. Also somehow this came out as a sick fic???

***

Warnings: Homophobia (Heavily implied with execution), past violence and strong language

Synopsis: "Dream was in the middle of changing the towel on Nightmare's forehead when said man finally deemed the wait enough and called him. He turned toward him as he squeezed the tissue in his hands over a bucket, water escaping from it and dropping inside. He glanced at him sideways. "What is it?"

"I've... been meaning to tell you something." He watched as confusion spread on Dream's features.

"Alright... what is it?" Nightmare marked a pause.

"I love you.""

***

The villagers now know not to try anything fishy on Dream, that was out of the way at least. However there was still one big problem. How the hell was he going to ask Dream out?

That question had made him stay up all night yesterday (albeit he always stays up) and has been haunting him since then. When he was out with Dream running some errands, he was thinking about it. When he was absently writing a fanfiction about him killing the villagers in a gory way with blood and organs everywhere, he was thinking about it. When he was eating lunch with Dream, he was also thinking about it.

Due to what happened before, he was very reluctant to confess or to be the first one to do so at least. He stared at the man who has been living rent free in his mind as he began preparing dinner, pretty much devouring him with his eyes.

That timeline was different, he knew that. Dream wasn't acting like he did the last time so he probably wouldn't have the same reaction as the last one did to his confession. Still, he couldn't help the anxiety clenching at his chest like a vulture. But at the same time, he knew that if he didn't do it, Dream wouldn't either.

He liked to think that despite all that time away from each other, he knew the other better than anyone else could ever dream of (hah). But, funnily enough, this timeline's Dream was even more predictable than his original Dream, and the fact Dream would rather die than confess first was so obvious that it was physically painful.

So he'll have to endure some more anxiety it seems.

"Nightmare?" His friend snapped his fingers in front of his eyes, successfully tearing him out of his thoughts. "Have you been listening to me?" His hands folded into fists as they were put on his hips, a questioning look on his face.

God, he was so pretty.

It only made him want to keep him for himself more than he already wanted to.

"No, I was too busy grieving over that cup castle I took a few hours to make." As if to enhance his pain about this event, he gestured toward the corpse of the monument spread out unceremoniously on the floor, some cups having yet to stop rolling. "The worst thing is that you did this. How could you? What has it ever done to you?"

Not the least impressed, Dream rolled his eyes as he turned away to stir up the content of the pot. "I didn't mean to destroy it but if it did, then you probably deserved it."

An offended gasp escaped Nightmare as he dramatically put his hand over his heart. "I beg your pardon? I didn't do anything wrong, how dare you!"

"Didn't do anything wrong." Dream repeated, closing the pot again as it continued boiling. "As if I would believe that, you have the look of someone who stole a cookie jar from the founder of a company and got away with it by distracting them with the sudden arrival of birds."