Two Fake Detectives
Dream woke up to the blaring sound of his alarm, which he promptly smacked into silence.
He groaned, looked at the time (which was three in the evening), rubbed his face before finally sitting up and stretching. It was going to be another long day of listening to other people’s lives while making a drink for them to ease their night. Dream remembered yesterday’s events but, just as quickly as it passed through his mind, he shrugged it off. Work was more important. He needed to pay rent.
He rolled out of bed and dragged himself into the bathroom, brushing his teeth and running a hand through his messy blonde hair. Good enough. He threw his work clothes on- black slacks, fitted white button-up, and his usual dark vest. He even put on a trenchcoat because he knew that it gets colder in the nighttime.
Satisfied with his appearance, he grabbed his bag and finally stepped out of the hallway and into the living room area.
Wilbur was already there, standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room with a mug of coffee in hand. He looked like he’d been standing there waiting for Dream. That was weird.
Wilbur never woke up early unless he had to.
Unless the man didn’t sleep at all the whole time and judging by the bags under Wilbur’s eyes, that could definitely be true.
Dream raised an eyebrow. “Hey.”
Wilbur cleared his throat, shifting like he wasn’t sure what to do with his free hand that wasn’t holding the mug.
“Uh. Hi.”
Dream stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly. “Right.” He walked into the kitchen while Wilbur stood on the other side. Dream grabbed an apple from the counter. “New rule, by the way.” He took a bite, chewing as he pointed at Wilbur. “No standing in the living room like a creep. It’s unsettling.”
Wilbur opened his mouth, closed it, then muttered. “I was not being creepy.”
Dream gave him a look. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
Wilbur groaned. “Are we just going to pretend that yesterday never happened? You magically healed someone, Dream! In front of all the Syndicate members too!”
Dream shrugged, taking another bite of his apple. “And?”
Wilbur gawked at him. “And? That’s all you have to say? Aren’t you worried that my comrades or even I will use you?!”
Dream snorted. “Use me? For what, free healthcare? I gotta admit, that does sound tempting if I were you.”
Wilbur’s eye twitched. “Do you know what people would do for abilities like yours? What they’d do to you if they found out?”
Dream leaned against the counter, utterly unbothered. “Mmm. Sounds like a ‘me’ problem so I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up over nothing.”
“Nothing?!” Wilbur repeated, looking personally offended. “You can bring people back from the brink of death without breaking a sweat! You- You patched Zephyrus up like he wasn’t nearly bleeding out on the couch minutes before! And now you’re standing here, eating a goddamn apple like it’s a regular Tuesday!”
Dream chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, then pulled out his phone, checked the date, then nodded.
“It is Tuesday.”
There was a pause. A long pause.
Dream continued eating his apple in the silence.
Wilbur let out a frustrated noise, running his hands through his hair. He started pacing the living room now, Dream watching with curiosity and a bit of humor. “Do you even hear yourself? This isn’t just some minor inconvenience, Dream! This is your life we’re talking about! If the wrong people find out and decide you’re worth the risk- you could be taken, experimented on, or even killed!”
Dream hummed then became shocked as he came to a realization.
Wilbur stopped pacing as Dream grew quiet and watched as Dream’s face shifted- his brows furrowing, his lips parting slightly. For the first time since the conversation started, Dream looked like he was actually processing the severity of the situation.
“Finally.” Wilbur let out a sigh. “Do you get it now?”
Dream looked at Wilbur, his green eyes wide. “Holy shit.”
Wilbur straightened, nodding. “Yeah, this isn’t good.”
Dream slowly set his apple down. “I just realized…”
“Listen, you don’t need to worry. We’ll protect you and-”
“I left my wallet at the bar last night.”
For a moment, Wilbur just blinked, his mind short-circuiting. Then, all of his thoughts came crashing back down.
“Your wallet?” Wilbur echoed, feeling a vein pulse in his forehead.
“Yes, my wallet.” Dream said, looking completely unbothered as he tossed his phone into his bag like they weren’t having a life-or-death conversation. “I can’t believe I forgot it at the bar.”
Wilbur stared at him in disbelief, the frustration building up again in his chest.
“No, no, no- your wallet?” he repeated, his voice tight. “Is that seriously what you’re worried about right now?”
Dream shrugged. “Yeah, that’s where I put my tips.”
Wilbur stood frozen for a moment, his jaw slack as he tried to piece together his rapidly fraying thoughts.
“Dream!” Wilbur snapped. “This is not about your damn wallet! You can’t walk around like everything’s fine. If the wrong people find you, it’ll end badly.”
Dream, finishing his apple that was on the counter, casually dropped it in the trash. “I guess I’ll deal with it when it becomes a problem. Until then, I’ve got a shift to get to.” He adjusted his coat and picked up his keys off the counter.
Wilbur couldn’t believe it. “Are you seriously not worried?”
Dream put a finger to his temple, acting like he was contemplating, then shook his head.
“Not really. I’m more worried about the out-of-milk problem. Make sure to pick some up if you’re going out.”
Wilbur stood there, staring at him, completely stunned. “Are you fucking kiddi-”
Dream didn’t look back as he stepped outside, leaving Wilbur standing alone in the middle of the room, lost for words.
Dream walked to his job like it was just another day.
The cool evening air nipped at skin as he headed toward The Tipsy Callers, a dimly lit bar nestled near a few other clubs and bars. It wasn’t the most glamorous place, but it had its charm. Plus, the tips weren’t bad despite the place being located in the Underground. He had a steady flow of regulars who liked to chat with him, get a laugh out of his jokes, and sometimes, a little extra help when they got too drunk.
Now, Dream wasn’t a therapist by any means but he had a knack for listening and giving the right advice. People felt comfortable with him, and he wasn’t above offering a few words of advice here and there if it meant getting a good tip.
Besides, the crowd at The Tipsy Callers was a mix of locals who didn’t expect anything fancy, just a place to hang out and drown their worries for a while. And that suited Dream just fine.
As he approached the bar, the usual neon glow from the sign above flickered slightly. He pushed open the heavy door, greeted by the familiar hum of conversation and clink of glass. It was a steady but relaxed kind of noise.
Behind the counter, Schlatt waved at him with a tired smile, clearly ready to pass the shift over. Schlatt was his boss but he wasn’t a boss that just laid back and let the other employees do everything for him. Schlatt does everything from making drinks, cleaning tables, washing dishes, or even scrubbing the toilets if he had to.
“You’re just in time, man. It’s getting a bit wild out here tonight,” he said, nodding toward the small but energetic crowd that had gathered.
Dream cracked a smile, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over the hanging rack.
“Well, you’re lucky that I work well under a little chaos.”
Schlatt gave him a mock scowl. “Sometimes I wonder if I should fire you for that cocky attitude.”
Dream smirked, rolling up his sleeves as he stepped behind the bar. “You won’t. I keep this place running.”
Schlatt scoffed, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he wiped his hands on a rag.
“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t let the whole place burn down while I’m organizing supplies in the back.”
“I’ll do my best.” Dream shot back, already grabbing a glass and pouring a drink for one of the regulars waiting at the counter.
Schlatt clapped a hand on Dream’s shoulder before heading toward the back. “Don’t start a fight, don’t break any bottles, and for the love of Prime, don’t let that old guy in the corner convince you to try his ‘special homemade potion’ again.”
Dream shuddered. “Trust me, I learned my lesson.”
Schlatt chuckled, shaking his head before disappearing into the storage room, leaving Dream to deal with the growing crowd.
The Tipsy Callers had its fair share of wild nights, and tonight seemed to be leaning toward that category. The music was a little louder, the drinks were flowing steadily, and the patrons were already deep into their conversations, some of them already on the edge of being drunk.
Dream worked pretty well despite the chaos around him. Sliding drinks across the counter, laughing at terrible jokes, and listening to the usual sob stories and offering advice when needed. It was routine. Comfortable. A kind of chaos he could handle.
After more than a few hours of working, the crowd seemed to die down and Schlatt came back, stretching his arms with a satisfied sigh.
“Alright, you’re good to go for tonight. I can handle the rest. I’m surprised that the place didn’t burn down once I left.”
Dream chuckled, wiping down the counter. “You wound me, Schlatt. I’m a professional.”
“Yeah, a professional pain-in-my-ass.” Schlatt chuckled as he made his own glass of whiskey.
“You still hired me.”
“I can fire you.”
“But you won’t.”
Schlatt rolled his eyes, smiling. “Get out of here you brat.”
Dream grinned, tossing the rag into the bin. He grabbed his jacket from the rack and put it on. “See you tomorrow, old man.”
“Don’t push your luck, kid.” Schlatt waved him off, already turning his attention to the remaining patrons.
Dream stepped out of the bar, the cold night air a stark contrast to the warmth inside. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself as he started down the dimly lit street, his boots clicking against the pavement. The Underground had an eerie stillness at this hour, the usual streetlights flickering in and out, casting long shadows against the alley walls.
He was halfway home when he noticed them.
Two figures stood in the middle of the sidewalk of the next street, leaning casually against the brick wall. They were dressed cleanly, but there was something off about them. As soon as they took notice of Dream, they straightened up and walked over. Dream stopped in his tracks and stared.
“Hullo,” The one who had long, pink braided hair said in greeting. They were both wearing matching suits, but with different patterned ties. “Are you Dream?”
Dream narrowed his eyes but nodded nonetheless. “Yeah. And who are you guys?”
“Hello, mate,” The shorter one bowed in greeting. He had blonde hair and strikingly light blue eyes. “My name is Philza and this is Technoblade but just Phil and Techno is fine. We’re-”
“Detectives,” Technoblade said smoothly, stepping forward.
He flashed a badge too quickly for Dream to make out the details. Dream didn’t even bother to pretend to believe them. He crossed his arms, shifting his weight onto one foot as he eyes the two.
“Detectives, huh?” he repeated flatly.
Technoblade hummed in confirmation, pocketing the badge just as fast as he’d shown it. Philza stood a step behind him, offering an easygoing smile, but his sharp eyes seemed to be taking in every detail. These guys weren’t just here for casual small talk.
“We just need a moment of your time,” Phil said.
Dream hummed. “Sure. I’ll entertain you guys for a few minutes since you don’t seem to be busy doing actual detective work.”
Technoblade huffed out a small chuckle at that, but Phil ignored the jab as if that didn’t bother him and he continued smoothly, “We’re looking into someone. Wilbur Soot. You know him?”
Goddamnit Wilbur.
Dream feigned a thoughtful expression, as if he didn’t already know where this conversation was going.
“Yeah. He’s my roommate. What about him?”
Phil and Techno exchanged a glance before Techno took over. “We’re investigating some activity with the villains. We have reasons to suspect that Wilbur may know some clues.”
Dream raised a brow. “Activity? That’s vague.”
Philza shrugged. “So’s the situation. We’re just checking in on people close to him. You ever notice anything unusual? Any suspicious behavior?”
“The only thing suspicious that I know about Wilbur is that he eats his ravioli cold. Like- what kind of person even does that?”
“I’m being serious, Dream.” Philza sighed and for some reason- it felt like this man knew that Dream would say something like that.
“And I am too.” Dream replied back. “Listen, if you really want to get information about Wilbur then I suggest asking the guy himself. Otherwise, leave me out of it.”
Philza’s expression didn’t shift, but Dream could tell he was assessing him. Technoblade, on the other hand, let out a huff.
“You know, most people would spill the truth when two detectives ask them a few questions,” Techno mused. “It makes me wonder… Are you used to this sorta thing?”
“Well, most detectives wouldn’t corner somebody in the middle of the night either. That is to say- if you two are even detectives, that is.” Dream shot back with even added an eye roll for dramatic effect.
Philza turned away to chuckle, but Technoblade didn’t look amused. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“I’m not avoiding it,” Dream countered. “I’m just prioritizing the important things. Like, seriously, do you know how disturbing it is to watch someone eat cold ravioli straight from the can? That’s criminal behavior right there.”
Techno’s eye twitched. “Dream-”
“Like, I get it, maybe he’s in a hurry, but we have a microwave. It’s right there. What’s stopping him?” Dream placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head in mock concern. “Maybe you should be investigating that. The only other criminal thing I can think of is his poor fashion choices.”
Philza covered his mouth, and Dream caught the barely concealed smirk. Technoblade, however, was clearly losing patience.
“You do realize we can make this a formal interrogation, right?” Techno said. “Take you in, question you properly-”
Dream gasped dramatically. “Oh no. Proper questioning? In an office at the police station that you two definitely work at? What will I do?” He pressed a hand to his chest.
Techno’s stare was deadpan.
Philza, despite himself, muttered, “He’s kinda funny.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Techno shot back.
Dream beamed. “Finally, someone who appreciates me. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”
Techno pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaled deeply, and then exhaled. “Alright. Let’s try this one more time.” His voice was laced with warning now. “Have you noticed any suspicious activity with Wilbur?”
Dream sighed dramatically, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought. “Well, there was this one time…”
Technoblade’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”
“He put on his socks before his jeans. Pretty shady behavior right there.”
Philza closed his eyes for a brief second, probably wondering why he was still standing there. Techno, however, was staring at Dream with the intent to strangle him, already tired of this nonsense.
“Dream.”
The man curled his hands into fists and took a step forward. Dream could feel the shift in the air- Technoblade was done playing games. Dream took an exaggerated step backward, hands raised in surrender.
“Whoa there, buddy. I get it, sock crimes are a serious offense. But let’s not get hasty.”
“Enough,” Techno gritted out. “We’re going to your apartment.”
Dream blinked. “Uh, what?”
“You heard me,” Techno said, crossing his arms. His voice was casual as if they were talking about dinner plans. “We’re going to check things out ourselves.”
Dream let out a nervous laugh. “Right, because randomly following someone to their home is totally normal detective behavior.”
“If you’re telling the truth,” Philza added, “and there’s nothing suspicious going on, then you won’t mind us taking a look.”
Dream hesitated. He, in fact, did mind. He couldn’t just let them waltz in. Wilbur was definitely hiding villain stuff in there somewhere.
“You know what? You two can head to the apartment yourselves,” Dream said, flashing a tight smile. “I think I’m going to hang out in a bar or something.”
Technoblade pulled out a gun from his coat and aimed it directly at Dream’s chest.
Dream blinked at it, unimpressed. “Wow. That escalated quickly.”
“Lead the way,” Techno said, tone completely neutral, like he wasn’t casually threatening him with a loaded weapon.
Dream sighed dramatically but he put his hands up in surrender. “Really? A gun? You don't trust me?”
“You lost that privilege about three sarcastic comments ago,” Techno deadpanned. “Now walk.”
Philza at least looked like he didn’t want to immediately resort to this, but he wasn’t stopping Techno either. Dream knew better than to push his luck too far.
Rolling his eyes, Dream started to walk in the direction of his house, keeping his hands up while Techno and Philza stayed behind him, following along.
Of course, Dream didn’t stop talking. “Seriously, though. Two supposed detectives threatening an innocent person at gunpoint? I’m starting to believe that you two may not be detectives...”
“Good job, Captain Obvious, but I think I’ll start asking the questions here.” Techno said simply. Dream could hear the cocking of the gun and promptly shut up. “Answer- and no sarcastic comments for the love of Prime- Answer all my questions or I’ll put a bullet through you.”
Dream scoffed but complied, leading them toward his apartment. “Fine.”
“Good. See? We should’ve pointed a gun at him earlier, Phil.” Techno muttered.
Dream kept walking, casually shoving his hands into his pockets. “You know, if you wanted to be invited over so badly, you could’ve just asked nicely. Maybe brought a bottle of wine-”
Techno clicked the safety off.
Dream immediately raised his hands again. “Geez, tough crowd.”
They walked in silence for a few moments, their footsteps echoing through the quiet streets. Dream was aware of the gun pointed at him but kept getting distracted by the occasional honk of a car in the distance. It should only be a ten-minute walk now.
“So, now that I have a gun pointed at you, I’m sure you can tell me the truth.” Techno hummed. “What do you know about Wilbur Soot?”
“Well, for starters, he’s a pain in my ass. Always leaves dishes in the sink, plays his guitar and vinyls when I’m trying to sleep, and- oh this bitch- he stole my last yogurt I saved in the fridge.”
Techno’s grip on the gun didn’t waver. “Dream.”
Dream clicked his tongue. “Fine, fine. I barely know the guy, alright? He keeps to himself mostly and so do I. That’s all I know.”
Philza hummed. “That’s all? You didn’t see him doing anything suspicious?”
Dream shrugged. “Look, I’m not sure if you realized where you are right now but this is the Underground. Cops ignore this place for a reason. You think I go around reporting every weird thing my neighbor does? If I did that, I would have filed thousands of tickets by now.”
“How long have you two lived together?”
“About nine months now,” Dream answered easily, like he wasn’t being held at gunpoint. “He needed a roommate, I needed a cheap place. That’s all.”
Techno hummed, the sound low and thoughtful. “Nine months is a long time to live with someone and barely know them.”
Dream rolled his eyes even if they couldn’t see it. “Yeah, well, not all of us sit around interrogating our roommates in our free time. Some of us just pay rent and mind our business.”
Philza gave him a sideways glance. “What about your job?”
“What about it?”
“You’re a bartender, right?”
Dream snorted. “You guys really did your homework. Yeah, I bartend at The Tipsy Callers. Not exactly a glamorous gig, but it pays the bills.”
Techno raised an eyebrow. “A bartender in the Underground. You ever come across any, let’s say, interesting clients?”
Dream shrugged. “All kinds. Drunks, dealers, washed-up crime lords. You name it.”
“What about villains?”
Dream hesitated for just a second, but he masked it with his casual-sounding voice. “Not too sure, buddy. Never met any so far.”
“You sure about that?”
“I don’t know, man. Everyone in the Underground has got some kind of alias. Half the time I don’t even know who I’m talking to.”
“And do you have an alias?” Philza asked.
Dream grinned, turning his head slightly to glance at Philza over his shoulder. “Oh, absolutely. They call me ‘Guy Who’s About to Get Shot by Two Fake Detectives.’ Real catchy, don’t you think?
Techno sighed. “Prime above, he never shuts up.”
“It’s part of my charm,” Dream shot back.
Philza pinched the bridge of his nose. Techno didn’t bother hiding his irritation. He gave a light shove forward with the barrel of the gun.
“Less talking, more walking.”
“Fine.” Dream huffed.
They finally neared his apartment complex, Dream couldn’t help but internally curse Wilbur. I swear to Prime, if I live through this I’m not going to let you live this down.
Techno hid the gun in his coat as they entered the empty lobby, but Dream still knew that the threat was there. The dim overhead light flickered as he led them past the peeling wallpaper and the rusted mailboxes toward the stairwell.
They went up one flight of stairs until they reached the second level. The number “11” on level B hung crookedly, barely hanging onto the worn wood. He dug into his pocket for his keys, hesitating for just a moment.
“Get on with it.”
Dream shot them both a look but then knocked twice.
If Wilbur was anywhere in the apartment, he would get the message.
“What was that?” Techno asked, narrowing his eyes.
“I always knock twice before entering the apartment.”
That was a lie.
Dream never knocks on the door when entering the house. And he hopes that Wilbur realizes this as well. Techno seemed suspicious but didn’t push. Dream could feel Philza’s sharp gaze on him, analyzing. He forced himself to stay relaxed.
With a sigh, he finally unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside first. The apartment was dim, only faint light from the neon signs outside lighting up the place. Dream turned on the lights and made room for the other two to step in.
He turned back to them, forcing a smile. “Go ahead and check but I can promise you that nothing is here Mr. Two Fake Detectives.”
Dream said the words louder than his usual voice, hoping that if Wilbur was in the apartment, he would take the hint.
Techno shoved past him, stepping inside. Philza followed, shutting the door behind them with a quiet click.
Dream tensed as the only escape was locked but then he heard a voice.
“Stay right where you are and don’t move. Dream, you can move.”
Wilbur.
It was the sound of Wilbur’s voice but it was different- commanding and smooth, carrying an underlying warning- that made Dream’s pulse spike. At first, Dream couldn’t move until Wilbur said the second sentence. His body relaxed but the other two, Techno and Philza, were frozen in place.
Wilbur stepped out of the hallway and into the light of the room.
“Dream, are you oka- Phil? Techno?”
Dream’s heart nearly stopped.
What?
“You know these two?” Dream’s voice grew in disbelief.
“Oh, uh, yes- I mean- One second- Release.” As soon as the words were said, Techno and Philza were able to move again.
Wilbur’s expression twisted into something between annoyance and surprise as he looked over to Philza and Techno.
“Heya Wil.” Philza greeted casually.
Wilbur narrowed his eyes at the two. “What exactly is going on here? And don’t tell me you were casually walking Dream home because that’s bullshit and you know it.”
“We needed to see if he would snitch,” Techno said flatly.
“What are you…” Dream’s mind was still processing the situation. Then it clicked. “You were testing me? Seriously?”
Techno shrugged. “We needed to be sure.”
“You pointed a damn gun at me!”
“You pointed a gun at him?!” Wilbur’s eyes darkened as he turned his full attention to Techno and Philza. “What the hell is wrong with you two?”
“Well, Techno is the one who did the gunpoint thing.” Philza deadpans.
“Oh, wow, throw me under the bus, why don’t you?” Techno groaned. “Listen, Wilbur, we needed to be sure he wasn’t working against us. If you don’t like it, that’s too bad. The Syndicate-”
“The Syndicate?” Dream interrupted, his voice a little sharper than he intended. Then he slowly turned his head to Wilbur. “Please don’t tell me that these people are-”
“Dream, I am so, so sorry.” Wilbur took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to rein in his anger. He glanced back up to Dream. “These two… Philza and Techno aren’t just random guys. They’re part of The Syndicate that I work with. They’re Zephyrus and Crimson… but they’re also my dad and brother.”
Dream stood frozen, processing what Wilbur was saying. “Your dad and brother… are also wanted criminals?”
“Yeah,” Wilbur sighed, “Phil is my dad and Tech is my brother.”
“You look nothing like-”
“Adopted.”
“Understandable.”
"Yep." Wilbur nodded.
Dream exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Okay. So let me get this straight. Your dad and brother, who are also villains, decided to test me because they thought I might be a problem and you… let them?”
“What? No! I would never do that to you!” Wilbur stepped forward, shaking his head. “These two idiots-”
Philza scoffed. “I’m your father-”
“These dumbasses did whatever they wanted,” Wilbur continued with a frustrated sigh. “I trust you, Dream. I absolutely do. I would never take part in something like this.” He turned back to Philza and Techno with a hard glare. “That was way over the line. Pointing a gun at him? Seriously?”
Techno shifted uncomfortably but didn’t seem to regret what he’d done. “We were just making sure. You can’t expect us to trust your roommate when we barely know him.”
“Says the person who pointed a gun at my head. Yeah, you know, standard trust-building exercise,” Dream quipped sarcastically, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. “That’s a real great way to make friends.”
Techno just shot him a flat stare, unamused. “Do you even realize who you’re dealing with?”
“Yes, Crimson, I do know. But honestly?” Dream shrugged dramatically. “I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve accidentally walked into some kind of villainous mastermind sitcom. Should I be looking for a laugh track?”
“Dream,” Wilbur begins, “this shouldn’t be taken as a joke. You should be getting angry at them or even at me. You can’t just ignore this.”
“Oh, believe me, I’ve realized. I love when I work all night only to get threatened on my walk back home. Really makes you feel special, y’know?”
Philza, or Zephyrus (where the fuck are his wings?), who had been watching the exchange quietly, spoke up. “Dream, we didn’t mean to push you. The Syndicate is serious business and we needed to know if you would tell other people about us.”
“Oh, yes, big bad Syndicate. Secret society. Dangerous missions. Blah, blah, blah,” Dream interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “I don’t care. Like I told Wilbur, just leave me out of it.”
Philza raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. “You say that now, but you’re already involved, aren’t you? You live with Wilbur. You know what he is and what he does. After last night… Well, there’s no going back.”
Dream let out an exaggerated gasp. “Not the dreaded ‘no going back!’ My life is ruined! Whatever shall I- yeah, no. Look, I’m going to go back to my normal life and act like last night didn’t happen. You should all do the same.”
“Mate, you healed me on the brink of death itself.” Philza replied, leveling Dream with a steady gaze.
Dream hummed. “Yeah, and? I would rather not have someone die in my apartment.”
Philza sighed. “You are involved whether you like it or not. You know about us and three of our identities. That’s why I’ll ask- do you want to join the Syndicate? We can pay you more than enough to cover your rent and even extra.”
Dream straightened up, dropping the act but keeping the amusement in his voice. He knew this was going to happen the second he healed someone.
“Listen, I get it. You want a healer on your team but I’ve got my own thing going on. I don’t need to add ‘secret Syndicate member’ to my resume anytime soon.”
Philza frowned. “So that’s a no?”
“That’s a rule two,” Dream corrected smoothly.
“...Rule two?”
Wilbur sighed, already bracing himself for the conversation. “Rule two means he doesn't want to be involved.”
Philza glanced between them. “There are rules? I heard you two arguing about it when I was half-dying but what is that?”
“There are a total of four rules.” Wilbur explained, watching as Dream walked over to the fridge and grabbed himself a soda. He shifted his eyes back to Philza and continued his explanation. “Rule one: don’t bring villains into the apartment.”
Philza tilted his head. “But you’re a villain?”
“He’s the exception.” Dream answered, cracking open the can before taking a sip. “When I made the rule, I was talking about Wilbur’s comrades, which are you guys. This place isn’t a villain Airbnb.”
Techno shrugged. “Fair.”
Wilbur continued, “Rule two, which you’ve already heard: don’t get Dream involved in anything, and in return, he won’t tell the cops.”
Philza narrowed his eyes at Dream who was casually sipping his soda. “That sounds an awful lot like blackmail.”
Dream shrugged. “Call it whatever you want. All I know is I don’t want to deal with your villain arcs. Keep your shitty stories to yourselves.”
Philza didn’t seem convinced, but Wilbur pushed on anyway. “Rule three: if I get caught, Dream doesn’t know anything. No covering for me, no bailing me out, nothing. As far as he’s concerned, I’m just a distant roommate.”
Philza stared at Wilbur. “And you’re fine with that?”
Wilbur and Dream shared a look then stared at Philza like he was the crazy one.
“Yeah.”
Dream took another sip of his soda, looking entirely unbothered. “The last rule I made quite recently.”
“And that is…?”
“Wilbur is not allowed to use his powers on me,” Dream pointed to Wilbur with the drink still in hand. “No commands, no influence.”
“That…” Philza looked down in thought. “That is actually a reasonable rule.”
“Of course it is,” Dream huffed. “Although I put up this sarcastic act, I actually do know what I’m doing.”
Philza sighed, rubbing his temples. “So, let me get this straight. Dream made all these rules and you, Wil, just nodded along?”
“Yes,” Wilbur answered immediately.
“Yes,” Dream answered with more confidence.
Philza looked between the two of them before exhaling through his nose. “What about Wilbur? Can he not make his own rules?”
Dream raised an eyebrow, amused at Philza’s words. “I mean, he could, but he doesn’t.”
Wilbur scoffed. “I can come up with a rule.”
“Oh, really?” Dream leaned against the counter, setting the can of soda to the side and folding his arms. “Tell me at least one rule you have for me then.”
Wilbur opened his mouth to answer, paused, then shut it again with a frown.
Dream grinned. “Exactly.”
Techno let out a short laugh. “Damn, Wil, you just take orders from him now? I thought you were supposed to be Siren! You know- the one who does all the ordering and commanding?”
Wilbur groaned. “Shut up, Techno.”
Dream snapped his fingers, “Listen, Zeppy-”
“Zephyrus.”
“Zeps. I’m just a person who just happens to also have healing powers. All I want to do is live my life as a regular guy and not be caught up in whatever bullshit you villains got going on. Not my problem, not my business.”
There was a short pause until Techno spoke up, nodding along.
“Y’know, I kinda respect it.”
Philza turned to him with an unreadable expression. “What?”
Techno shrugged. “He’s got his boundaries. Most people get greedy, want power, want a purpose. But he’s just straight up vibing.”
Dream raised his soda can. “Exactly. I am just vibing.”
Wilbur let out a long, deep sigh. He was completely done and completely tired. “Phil, can we just accept this and move on? I can promise you that he’s not going to budge.”
Philza still looked like was trying to comprehend the sheer absurdity of the situation but eventually sighed in defeat. “Fine. But, Dream, if you ever do change your mind-”
“I won’t.”
Philza rolled his eyes. “If you do, you know who to ask.”
Dream saluted lazily. “Noted. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a very late appointment with my bed so you should start seeing yourself out.”
Philza gave one last lingering look at Dream, clearly still by his complete disinterest in everything, before shaking his head and turning toward the door. Techno followed, still smirking.
“You know what- you’re not too bad.”
“I knew you'd come around, Crimson.” Dream raised his soda in mock acknowledgment. “Next time, maybe don’t point a gun to my head in greeting. You should buy me a drink first.”
Techno just snorted before stepping out the door, Philza already halfway down the hall. The moment the door locked shut, Dream let out a long sigh.
“Well, that was annoying,” he muttered.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I swear, Phil and Techno have lost it. They don’t even get how much of a favor you did for us last night. You literally saved Phil’s life.”
Dream yawned, shrugging. “Yeah, and now I’m stuck on their Syndicate radar. Great trade.”
Wilbur hesitated before speaking again. “Are you… actually okay? I mean, all that just happened, and you’re acting like it’s no big deal.”
“I’d be more worried if I actually cared about this whole situation.”
“And you truly don’t?”
“Nope.”
Wilbur studied him for a long moment, then finally leaned back against the wall with a sigh.
“I wish you’d be more worried.”
Dream raised an eyebrow to that. “Why? So I can freak out like a normal person?”
Wilbur shook his head. “If you’re not worried about them, that means you’re used to things like this.”
Dream didn’t respond immediately, just swirled the can in his hand before setting it down on the counter.
“Or it just means I truly don’t give a fuck? Why does someone always have to have a backstory?”
Wilbur scowled. “Because people don’t just wake up one day and decide they don’t care whether they live or die.”
Dream gave him a dry look. “Bold assumption.”
“That’s not funny, Dream.”
“Wasn’t trying to be.”
Wilbur’s expression softened, but only slightly. Dream wasn’t exactly in the mood to have a heart-to-heart after being held at gunpoint today, but Wilbur wasn’t going to let it go that easily.
“Dream… why did you help us last night? You could’ve just walked away or gone to your room. That way, nobody would find out you have healing powers so why…”
“I’m not gonna let someone die if I can help, even if they’re all wrapped up in villainy bullshit.” Dream said, his tone light despite the conversation. “I’m not a complete jerk.”
Wilbur let out a frustrated sigh, pushing himself off the wall. “One day you’re going to heal someone you shouldn’t and they’re going to take advantage of you. You’re just lucky my comrades aren’t assholes who force people into their work.”
Dream chuckled, though it wasn’t a particularly light-hearted sound. “You’re reading too much into it. You’re thinking of all the negative possibilities but I’m telling you it’s fine. I survived this long living in the Underground and how do you think I managed that? With hopes and dreams?”
“N-No, it’s…” Wilbur trailed off, trying to choose his words carefully. “I don’t get it, Dream. How can you act like nothing matters?”
Dream didn’t respond right away, his eyes scanning the floor, as though the answer was somewhere there. He could make another joke- just come up with a sarcastic comment and avoid the question like he always does when it gets serious. But with one look at Wilbur’s face- he conceded. With a sigh, Dream straightened up and looked at him, his voice quieter this time.
“It’s easier to just… not care. It’s one less thing to get attached to.” He paused. “I’m not saying I have some tragic backstory or whatever you’re imagining. I just figured out a long time ago that things get messy when you start giving a damn.”
“So you have an avoidant attachment?”
“The fuck?” Dream squinted at Wilbur like he’d just spoken an entirely different language. “What a load of- What? Are you my therapist?”
Wilbur rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying, the way you talk and joke is-”
Dream scoffed. “I know what it means. I just didn’t expect a therapy session right when I got home. That reminds me, did you grab that milk-”
“Deflection.”
Dream let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh my Prime- shut the fuck up.”
Wilbur just crossed his arms. “I’m serious, Dream.”
“And I’m seriously considering jumping out that window if this turns into a feelings talk.”
Wilbur exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. You don’t want to talk about it? Whatever. But I’m making a new rule.”
Dream snorted. “Oh? Did you finally come up with one? What number are we on- rule number five now?”
Wilbur’s lips twitched. “Yeah. Rule number five.”
“And? What is it?”
“If… If anything ever does happen- if you ever get caught up in something you can’t handle- tell me. I don’t care what it is, just don’t try to deal with it alone.”
Dream paused, caught off guard by the sincerity in Wilbur’s voice. For a moment, he considered brushing it off with another joke, but something in Wilbur’s expression made him stop.
“...Yeah, okay. Is that the only rule you have for me?”
Wilbur nodded. “Yes.”
“Alright.”
For a moment, the room was quiet. Then Dream stretched his hands over his head.
“Well, now that we’ve had our bonding moment for the month, I have an important question.”
Wilbur hummed. “Yes?”
“Did you actually grab the milk like I told you to?”
Wilbur froze. His expression remained neutral for a split second, then his eyes flicked from the fridge to the door.
“...I’ll be right back.”
Dream watched as Wilbur grabbed his jacket that was left on the couch and rushed out of the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. Dream let the silence linger for a beat before chuckling to himself.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”