Maybe contemplate hell before absolving yourself from it

Recipe, no microwaves needed, police involved on unconnected case.

"Okay," Dream starts, squinting down at his phone's blue light. The kitchen is pitch dark, and the TV blares the news from the living room nearby. "So, Horror, it needs two cups of flour."

Horror, slowly, turns to stare at Dream, as if a feral raccoon about to be captured for the crime of being small and cute. "Two cups?"

Dream nods. "Two cups."

Horror turns back to the bowl of dry ingredients, the bowl of wet ingredients already complete and mushy looking, the fully ripe bananas smashed throughly with the potato masher and a lot of spite on Dream's part. Regrettably, his brother is not the only one with weak arms.

"Where's..." Horror pauses, entranced by the ingredients, "the flour?"

Dream blinks. It's four am on a school night. It's his house, Nightmare is up playing Tetris in his room, and their mother is off on another work trip. She does that a lot these days, more than normal. "Oh, right."

Dream hurries for the flour, retrieving it and dropping it on the counter in front of Horror like a vanquished foe, or a cockroach. Horror nods, slowly beginning to measure out the two cups of flour.

From the other room, the TV spouts on, "recent outbreaks have the residents of the city in a frenzy and protests have broken out over this alleged 'zombie virus', but officials stand firm in their knowledge that local authorities and healthcare experts-"

From the other room, Ink calls, sounding panicked, "Dream, emergency!"

Both Dream and Horror stare at the sound of his voice, stopping all movement.

"...Yeah?" Dream calls, lowering his phone from his vision.

"I may have-on accident-bought a total of forty-seven microwaves. Online. Just now." Hesitance. "With your card information. To- to Alberta."

Dream stares, exasperated. Horror continues measuring out the two cups of flour. "Wha- cancel the order!"

A moment of silence. The TV fills the background with news interviews. "...How???"

Balking, Dream leaves the kitchen, stalking over to Ink on the couch. "What do you mean 'how'? There's a cancel order button." He hovers over Ink's shoulder, staring at the screen.

Ink sweats. "Where???"

Dream, used to idiocy, points. "Click that." Ink does. "Then that." Ink does. "Okay, that's the cancel order button."

Ink, slowly, hovers over it. "Okay... but what if we need forty-seven microwaves."

"We don't," Dream answers, "cancel the damn order."

A moment where nothing happens.

"But," Ink raises, "what if we do?"

A moment where nothing happens.

Then Dream is lunging for the laptop, awkwardly bent over the back of the couch. Ink fights valiantly. To stop his fighting and save his mother's poor four-year-old laptop, Dream takes a hand and roughly cups the back of Ink's head, shoving their mouths together.

With Ink distracted by the kiss, he can swipe the laptop, leaning back proudly with it in hand.

Ink doesn't fight after that, staring at the wall. As Dream clicks the 'delete order' button and he fills out confirmation that, no, he really doesn't need forty-seven microwaves, Ink giggles to himself, lovesick.

Dream feels strangely fond.

In front of them, the TV shows an interview of a teenage girl, roughly a bit younger than Dream's standard group of friends. Maybe middle school aged.

She sounds trembly.

"-And... my mom, that wasn't her. This- this thing, it was feral. It growled. She got real sick, and then she started acting, like, a wild animal or something! I saw her eat my brother-"

Dream stares.

Huh, he thinks. That's weird.

"We should make out!" Ink shouts. Horror makes a disgusted sound from the kitchen.

His phone vibrates, and Dream looks down in time to see a message from Blue, reading 'Nightmare says you guys are up?'

Dreams sends a quick 'Yeah, at ours. Ink and Horror are here. The news is real weird this time of night, I'm surprised it's even running' before he yields to Ink's incessant tugging, the artist on his knees on the living room couch cushions in order to get close enough to Dream's mouth.