Day 10 - "How long has it been" with hurt!Dream
Other characters: Technoblade
Other tags: Dream SMP setting, prison arc, vague allusions to torture
Summary: Rivals in prison, what will they do?
Technoblade really couldn't tell if Dream was happy to see him.
This wasn't the first time he had met the other man without his mask. In fact, Techno thought he probably had seen him without it more often than not. Dream wore it in public, wore it as a shield that could protect him from the prying eyes of others. He wore it as a security that his expression wouldn't give him away.
But when around people he trusted - considered friends, even - he pushed it to the side, leaving it to conceal only the side of his face and the slope of his forehead.
(after the duel, he had taken it off in the ring to shake Techno's hand. A worthy opponent needed to be looked in the eyes)
Dream was without his mask now though not by choice, because Sam had taken it. And clearly, he had learned to compensate.
Obvious panic when Techno first entered the cell aside, there was an impassiveness about Dream. A quiet resignation and Techno could tell that more had changed in him than the few new scars he could tell from a glance; or the bruises that told tales of Quackity's previous visits.
If the mask was to hide an emotion that betrayed vulnerability, then Dream had quickly taught himself to shove them down deep somewhere even without the mask they wouldn't be revealed.
He watched as Dream gave up on writing for the day, throwing the pen down in noiseless frustration. And when he came over, he sat across from Techno in the furthest corner of the cell, making the distance as literal as it had been metaphorical for the past three hours.
Dream drew his legs up to his chest and threw one arm around them and scratched at the obsidian floor with already bleeding fingernails.
And while Techno was not one to feel sentimental, he did feel a pang of sympathy.
The bottom line was that he could not be the judge of repentance and whether it was deserved, but he could be one of minimal human decency, which was not something that needed to be earned.
"How long has it been since somebody fixed your hair, Dream?"
The question was sudden enough to have even Dream surprised, looking up at him through narrowed eyelids.
"Right, right, stupid question." He uncrossed his legs. "C'me here then?"
"You're going to do my hair?" Dream asked, skeptical. He was already scooting over though as if part of him was too defeated and unable to not listen when people ordered him around anymore.
"Yep." He waited for Dream to be within arm's reach to tug him closer, into a better position. "It's a mess and I won't stand staring at it for the foreseeable future. It'd kill me."
"Dramatic much?"
"I think you have the wrong person," Techno said, and if Dream's first instinct when Techno touched his shoulder was to flinch, neither mentioned it. Not when Dream tightened all his muscles and forced himself to stay still, to barely even breathe.
His hair had grown long in the prison. It was knotted, and kind of difficult to thread through with his fingers, but Techno knew he could make it work as he started braiding it, carefully.
And while he did, Dream's shoulders slumped down ever so slightly, head tilting back to lean into the touch - lean into the first moment of tenderness that had been afforded him since he got here almost eight months ago.
(there was no mask anymore, yet his face remained unreadable. But if Techno didn't know any better, he'd say there was almost a smile there)
Techno might not know much about the righteousness of punishment. He only knew what he saw in front of him, who he saw in front of him.
He braided Dream's hair in silence, and called it kindness.
