Chapter Text
Ink never valued sleep more than he did now.
Before, however long ago that ‘before’ was, he had always thought of it as a waste of time. There were always things to be done, artwork to be drawn, universes in need of protection. Late nights had become his staple time of productivity, and sleep had been reduced to four-six hour increments whenever he felt like it. Or when a certain someone forced the action on him.
But now… his simple, minor system didn’t work anymore.
Perhaps it was the constant stress of sitting in meetings with multiple different Councils and having to smile and act completely on board with everything said. Listen to their stupid rambling and arguments over this and that. Listen and smile as they came up with ideas and plans to murder or capture the people he cared so deeply for.
How he’d have to go to private appointments with that pathetic Asgore who called himself the leader of the Omega Council and smile.
To go home to his little ones and smile.
It was a lot harder to fake everything being fine when he had a soul. Ink couldn’t understand how Dream maintains his sanity. The protector secretly hoped that Cross would just kiss him already so Dream would be able to experience that true happiness he had been missing out on.
Ink knows if anyone would be able to slap some sense and self-worth into Dream, it’d be Cross. Most of the time it seemed to be the other way around, the idiot was swooning hard enough that he lost all ability to say no, but he’d get it. Eventually.
He still had to talk to the guard about Nightmare. A conversation he was certainly dreading and procrastinating.
Either way, the small relief of knowing Dream had someone - so that if he ever died, the guardian wouldn’t lose too much. Cross was Ink’s insurance, to take proper care of Dream if he ever - did little to calm the raging storm of thoughts in his skull.
Besides the meetings, Ink was becoming hyperaware of how certain branches of guards would patrol the universes. He should be grateful, the protector knew that, but all he could think of were how these things were walking on his territory. They were the ones cutting off supply chains from Nightmare and Error, they were the ones acting so proud and puffing up like peacocks. Leaving their disgusting feathers all over the AUs as they ensured their safety.
It was selfish and possessive for him to think, but it was starting to feel like the Councils were messing things up more than helping.
Things had just been so… simple, before all of this. Yes, there was the obvious notion that they were all trying to kill each other back then. But all the Councils did was try and push that wall up even further!
Dream and Nightmare felt more at odds than ever because of the stupid “system”. The multiverse wasn’t meant to have a government! It would never work, you couldn’t make definite sides on a plane that was meant to be gray.
Some universes were faulty or corrupted and had to go.
Some universes were completely scrambled emotionally wise whenever the Creators didn’t plan things right.
Nightmare and Error were just as important, but no, apparently they were “awful” and “demons”. And there was a part of Ink that understood that, he wasn’t going to excuse the fact that for a very long time, Error had lost his mind. Or that Nightmare decided to deal with his suffering by making it everyone else's problem.
Maybe in some other multiverse, they never got this far. Maybe in that other reality Ink killed Error, or Nightmare, or maybe Dream did the dirty deed. Maybe they were both dead, had been born to live awful lives and die an awful death.
It was the one thought that kept Ink going, kept him hoping. Because deep within his skull that idea whispered to him of its existence, of how close he had come to watching Error kill himself. It was too close, way too close.
In truth, everything boiled down to a single statement. Were their actions understandable? Yes. Were they justifiable? Not really.
And that's what everybody seemed to be fighting about. Or really fighting to accept that notion and move on. Dream, stars bless him, was determined to nail it into everybody's skulls that there was a reason for his brother’s actions. That he was suffering, and in pain. A scared, lonely child who didn’t know how to handle his emotions properly.
But of course, nobody cared about that. No, what everybody cared about was the fact that Nightmare had thousands of dead bodies to his name.
And every time someone said it, the statement just made Ink think even harder about it. Because it was true, and by that logic… did Nightmare deserve redemption? Were he and Dream just being too biased? Too many innocent deaths, with people who cared about those losses.
Then Ink would think about the first time those little multicolored hands gripped his face. Stars if he ever lost…
And then he was back in the sea of uncertainty again. Completely confused and conflicted about his actions. Ink didn’t want to be a hero or the good guy, he just wanted his friends to be happy. Error was almost there, but for Dream to be happy he needed Nightmare. And now that he’d gotten himself sympathetic and attached to the negative guardian he wanted his happiness too. And Horror… he’d given Ink one of those thick, warm blankets on one of his more stressful days. He still needed to say thank you.
Dust too. The skeleton had his issues (honestly which one of them doesn’t) but their nightly sessions were enjoyable. Ugh, the list just kept growing.
And Ink was tired.
Every time something got accomplished between someone there was so much more to be done that that single checkmark felt like nothing. And all he could do was stare at the list and miss sleep. Because he was just so, horribly exhausted.
So Ink stood in one of the empty halls of his boss’s castle, leaning against the wall, eyesockets closed. There was another meeting to be attended with the Gamma Council, something about spacial issues. Which Ink felt like had nothing to do with him, unless they wanted him to be the one building more houses and… He sighed wearily, leaning his skull back further into the cool stone.
Just another thing to pile on.
Either way, the protector had a good 10 mins before he needed to be there. The original plan had been to stop by the kitchen and shove some food down his throat, but Ink found himself closing his eye sockets as he walked. It took almost falling twice before he gave up.
Being tired was just, a pain that he didn’t understand. The burn underneath his eyelights stung with a fury that brought tears to his sockets every couple of minutes. Mind sluggish and scrambled, remembering things took an astonishing amount of effort, almost as much as keeping his eyelids open.
They were just so heavy. Everything felt heavy in fact, just laying down on the ground sounded like a great idea. But then it wasn’t, because if that happened then he would fall asleep, then he’d miss the meeting.
And even after that, he’d still have to go back to his main house and take care of them. Once that was done he needed to check up on Error just to make sure the glitch was okay. Just in case.
Stars what was he doing? Ten minutes was plenty of time to stop by now! It’s been what? Two days since he’d stopped by, maybe three. That was too big of a gap, an inexcusable amount of time. What if something had happened? What if Error was having one of his episodes again and just needed someone to be there for him and Ink was just sitting here leaning against a wall and wasting time- .
Wait.. time!
Ink started as a small shot of awareness jolted up his spine. He fumbled with his phone and took a moment to let his eyelights adjust to the sudden light.
2:32 pm. Fuck.
How was that even possible? Thirty minutes? But he’d only been standing here for what, maybe seven. Or at least that’s what it had felt like. Did he actually manage to fall asleep? The thought was unreasonable, if he had, Ink would have noticed.
He would’ve… or maybe he was just too far gone to notice the change.
Ink sighed and slipped his phone back into his pocket, returning to leaning against the wall. Fine, it was all fine. He’d worry about getting chewed out later. The absence just gave him more time to get other things done.
In a second, just a couple of seconds. Then he’d move.
Ink came to consciousness sluggishly, not quite all there or ready to take on the living world.
The first thing he knew of was the sound of pen on paper, that familiar soft rolling scrape etched in his mind from the artwork that he no longer has time for. It was a welcome sound, and Ink found himself just drifting, listening to the lolling tune.
Then came the realization that he had been sleeping, followed by the hit in the face that this wasn’t a dream and that he was actually awake.
Straight adrenaline sent its way through his bones as his thoughts rampaged to remember what he had been doing before, what he needed to do, and when things cut off. The only thing Ink could come up with was that he needed to go to a meeting, which means he missed it. Fuck.
There was more, he knew there was more but he just couldn’t remember. And ‘I forgot’ was such a pathetic excuse. But he just couldn’t remember, not if he wrote it down somewhere, or if he did then which item it was.
At least Chron had his little troublemakers under control. Probably already knew this was gonna happen with how he was talking before Ink left—one less thing to stress over, sort of.
Preparing for the inevitable, Ink forced his sockets open. They felt a hundred times better, he was still tired but that burn was gone, and the heaviness was lighter. Eyelights fizzling in, the scene that greeted him made him only question his lucidity once more.
To put it simply, he was in Nightmare’s study.
The desk, stacked with papers and fancy office things had been the first thing recognized to his eyelights, followed by the wooden file cabinets on the other side, and the large shelves stacked with an assortment of books behind the desk and facing the door. In the fancy, cushioned office chair was the guardian himself, writing away in a binder and completely unbothered by the pile of confusion laying half-awake on the couch in his study.
It took Ink flexing his fingers a bit to then realize that he wasn’t just laying on the couch. Black tendrils cushioned his form on the normal pressure points that came with lying on one's side. Supporting his pelvis and shoulders, the end of one tangled with his legs. The other one curled underneath his skull, and it took Ink an embarrassingly long moment to perceive that he was hugging the tentacle as well.
Ah. This was…
It was all so kind of Nightmare, to do this for him. Sure, Ink knew the other had a kinder side to him but, the protector had literally just got here. He’d only been in direct contact with Nightmare for a little over two months. That couldn’t be enough time for the other to see the need to take care of him, right?
There hadn’t necessarily been any tender moments between them either. It was more of an act than a relationship truly, endless conversations of dramatics and bickering. Ink being annoying and Nightmare wanting to punt him across the multiverse for it. The song and dance reminded him of Error for the most part. ‘Most’ because half the time, Nightmare would play along.
He’d joke, smile, and chuckle, play the amused king to a faithful servant. That’s when things got interesting, and Ink adored every moment of it. Nightmare overall was just an interesting person in general.
There was also that ‘older brother’ energy the guardian carried, it radiated from him like a safety net for Ink to fall back on if he needed it. It again made him wonder how Dream’s lasted so long without him.
But besides that protective aura, Ink had thought his interactions with Nightmare to have been just a show, or something along those lines. That the negative guardian was just humoring him for his usefulness to then throw him to the side when everything was done and dealt with. This weird hint of compassion wasn’t anything Ink expected from him.
The tentacles curled tighter around him and Ink came back into focus to the sound of a pen clacking against wood. Nightmare was staring at him, completely unimpressed and irritated.
“You’ve been asleep for fourteen hours.”
Ink gaped. A small amount of horror gripping his chest. “Wait, what-?!”
“Don’t speak.” Nightmare’s glare pierced holes in him, and Ink instantly shut his mouth. The other held up his hand as his expression adapted a thin scowl, the two free tendrils twitching along the ground.
Slowly, the protector attempted to sit up but the tentacles held firm. “I found you drifting between consciousness in one of the south corridors, muttering nonsense and unable to hold your own weight. It is unbelievable that I have to be the one to enforce this fact, you’re exhausted Ink, and you need to rest .”
Nightmare leaned more towards the guilty skeleton, linking his fingers together on top of the desk. “This… behavior, is unacceptable within my domain and you will cease these self-destructive tendencies. Am I understood?”
Ink stared into the slitted eyelight completely dumbfounded. He knew he should feel ashamed, guilty, or something along those lines but all he could feel was everlasting warmth because Nightmare cared. All that dancing around each other they did mattered, it meant something.
He couldn’t help it, he laughed. Light and carefree because stars it felt good to care about someone and know they cared about you back.
“Awww Nightmare! You do care.” The teasing tone was a welcome one, it was light and elated, just like Ink's soul. And he was convinced he would float away. Even though Nightmare’s reaction was to sit there seething it only made him chuckle again.
“Am I understood?”
There was an underlying hiss in that tone, with how many times Nightmare’s had to use hissing at them to get them to listen, Ink decided to cut this part of the act short. For now at least. “Yeah, loud and clear boss.”
The guardian’s eyelight flickered with… something, some emotion that Ink couldn’t place before the tentacles around him aided him in sitting up before retreating.
Picking up his pen, Nightmare gave him a stern side eyelight before looking down at his work. “I expect you to be getting at least seven hours of sleep per night.” What. But that was so much time! All wasted by sleep? Just gone? Ink’s eyelights flashed in colors and symbols of frustration, but before he could answer Nightmare read his thoughts. “I don’t want to hear it Ink, seven hours a night.”
…
“Ink.”
Said skeleton groaned, crossing his arms against his ribcage. “Fineeee. I feel like you’re being unreasonable. Just saying.”
Nightmare sat up to look at Ink once more, a sneer gracing his face. “I fail to see how I’m the unreasonable one here.”
“It’s such a waste of timeee!” Ink whined as he leaned back against the couch, skull hanging over the back of it.
“No, it’s not.” Nightmare countered, exasperated. “It’s just seven hours, quit your whining.”
“But, Boss!”
He only went back to his writings, the pen resuming its journey across the paper. “Shut it Ink.”
Pouting and accepting his fate for another go of rearranging his schedule, Ink got up from the couch, making the short steps to the mahogany desk. It took a minute to make sure he wouldn’t fall but once he was at his destination, he sat on top of the furniture before laying backward.
The shapes of the binder and the many other things were uncomfortable against his spine but it was worth it for the look of utter exasperation on Nightmare's face. “Really?”
Here we go again.
Ink smiled and stretched like a proud cat upon its prize. “Yep. I’m boycotting.”
A grin slowly teased its way onto Nightmare’s expression as his eyebrow shot up and eyelight sparkled with mirth. “‘Boycotting’ huh?”
Uh oh, that look didn’t mean anything good. “Yeah…?”
“Do you even know what boycotting is?”
Ink folded his arms underneath his skull, giving him time to think about his answer and realize that perhaps thinking protesting and boycotting were the same thing was a mistake. “...If I said yes would you believe me?”
Nightmare actually had the audacity to snort at him, before placing an elbow on the bottom of Ink’s ribcage and leaning his cheek onto his fist. “Ink, when have I ever believed you for your word alone.”
Wha-! That was! One hundred percent true, but still!
“That look isn’t going to change anything, now move. I’m sure you have things to attend to, as do I.” Well, he would if he hadn’t slept through it all and a certain someone actually woke him up!
Ink made a show of snuggling deeper into the items digging into his back, stretching his legs out from where they hung off the desk. He put an arm over his forehead, feigning a miserable expression. “But my king! I only long for a little bit more of your precious time.”
He had his eyesockets closed, but the sound of Nightmare’s sigh made him wish he had them open.
“Ink.”
Ink kept going, “How cruel of you to deny me.”
“I will dump you off of this desk.”
No, he was laughing, damn it! Why did Nightmare’s deadpan have to sound so hilarious? “First, you sentence me to seven whole hours of sleep-”
“Yes of course, because expressing care towards what is mine i-.” They both froze.
Ink opened his eyes and sat up on the desk, staring at Nightmare with wide sockets and eyelights stilled in a shocked, bright yellow. The dark guardian only looked at him in that same shock before narrowing his socket as both clawed hands gripped the wood.
“No.” Nightmare growled at him but the protector remained undeterred.
One hand came up to his mouth as his soul soared within his ribcage. “You admitted it! You said it!” Ink almost shouted, completely overjoyed.
“No, I didn’t!” The counter was stated in an almost childish way that it just made Ink more inclined to tease. So defensive and puffed up in a way that he’d never seen before, and that thought made him realize that this was mask-off Nightmare.
He’d let his guard down, it was the only way those words would slip out of the other's mouth in the first place. And the fact that Nightmare felt comfortable enough in his presence to let go made Ink’s skull buzz. “Oh my stars, Nightmare I am going to tease you so badly over this.”
Tentacles flipped him off the table before he could react, and Ink laughed into the carpet.
“Get out! Go bother Error with your pointless accusations.”
Error…
Oh shit! Error!
Ink shot up and promptly bolted out of the room, but not before shouting a cheerful, ‘I care about you too!’ back in response.