156.

"We can't give it to the raccoons, they'll start chewing people's faces off."

"Then don't give it to the raccoons. Give it to the squirrels."

"That'd be even worse--"

"Why the fuck are you in my bathtub? How the fuck did you even get in?"

"Hi Jack," Tommy greeted, craning his head so he could look at Jack from where he was curled in one side of Jack's bathtub. "Dream and I were just discussing the merits of drugging raccoons."

"Or squirrels," Dream added from his side of the bathtub.

"Or squirrels," Tommy agreed. He pulled the shower curtain aside in invitation. "Wanna join?"

"No! Get the fuck out of my house!"

"Worth a shot."

~~~

"Ohhh wait, and then--"

"Yup. We're going to put the elephant and the child in a room together."

"What's this about elephants?" Philza asked. "And why are the two of you in my pantry?"

"You have good food," Tommy said. To prove his point, he took another bite out of the loaf of bread he was holding. Philza wrinkled his nose.

"Tommy, mate, you're supposed to slice the bread into pieces before you eat it."

"No," was Tommy's answer. "By the way, did Niki make this?"

"Yep. Got it from her bakery. If I give you another loaf, will you get out of my pantry?"

"Make me."

Philza turned to Dream, hoping that he would be a reasonable adult - only to find him eating a carrot. By taking bites out of its long side. What the fuck.

"So as I was saying," Dream said through a mouthful of root vegetable, "Elephant. Child. We need to build an observation deck, though. Maybe under Techno's house?"

"Sure, but where do we get a child?"

Philza sighed and shut his pantry. He could afford to lose some food, but his sanity couldn't afford whatever conversation they were having.

~~~

"--and I'm telling you it's possible! Just slap a couple billboards around the server, the furries will come flooding in--"

Fundy walked into the Community House just in time to catch the tail end of that conversation, took a second to wonder how Dream and Tommy were hanging from the ceiling like that, then registered what he'd heard and walked back out.

Hiding in his house for the rest of the day seemed like a good idea.

~~~

"And the sand would go great with the parmesan."

"Right, but I'm telling you the spinach would be better!"

"On toast? Nobody puts spinach on toast, you disgusting--"

"Get off my roof," Purpled ordered. Tommy and Dream both turned to look at him from where they were sitting cross-legged on top of the UFO's dome.

"Purpled!" Tommy cried. "Tell Dream that nobody puts spinach on toast!"

"Get off my roof," Purpled repeated flatly. He raised his crossbow. "Now. Or I shoot."

"But Purpled, your UFO is so nice to sit on--"

Purpled took a warning shot. It missed Tommy's head by a hair. The teenager yelped and scrambled to his feet, only to slip, fall, and roll right over the UFO's rim.

"L," Dream called after him.

~~~

"--right? It's a genius plan!"

"Okay, but have we considered the consequences of destroying the moon?"

Tubbo shuffled in and plopped him down on the couch next to Tommy. "I have no idea why you're in my house or what's going on, but count me in."

Dream and Tommy exchanged glances. Tommy raised an eyebrow. Dream shrugged. Tommy turned back to Tubbo. "Sure, Tubs. How do you feel about nuking the moon?"

157. (credit to Smallest)

Contrary to popular belief, Quackity could not talk to ducks.

Which was honestly a shame because they would make excellent informants, but hybrid status didn't really work that way and thus Quackity could not talk to ducks. Just like how Philza Minecraft (allegedly) could not talk to his crows, though for some reason a flock of them followed him around and he could sometimes be seen talking at them. Probably some magic bullshit that came with Philza's rumored immortality or whatever.

Point was, Quackity could not talk to ducks. But at the moment, he really, really, really wished he could. Mostly to ask what the fuck these two were thinking.

"Why," he demanded, slamming his bedroom door open. "Why are you like this."

The two ducks that had moved into his living room (without Quackity's permission, but the man hadn't been able to chase them out yet) blinked up at him, nonplussed. One of them quacked. The other one shuffled a little, then waddled one step forward. They both resumed their rendition of Canon in D.

"It is literally the witching hour," Quackity informed them. "I need to sleep. I have a date tomorrow."

The ducks continued to 'sing'. Quackity took a threatening step forward, but the moment he came within three feet of them they took off. He was forced to duck (ha) to avoid concussion à la flying poultry. With a frustrated scream, he slammed the door shut and fell back into bed, stuffing the pillow over his head in the hopes that it would drown out the quacking.

Spoiler alert: it didn't.

~~~

"You look like shit," were the first words out of Sapnap's mouth. Quackity sent him a disgruntled look.

"Thanks, Sapnap," he drawled. "Just what I wanted to hear."

"It's the truth, man." Sapnap stepped closer, reaching up a hand as though to feel his forehead before catching himself and lowering it. "Are you okay?"

"Rough night," Quackity answered. "The Pests kept me up."

"Pests?"

In answer, Quackity jabbed a thumb behind him. Sapnap followed it to the two ducks currently perched a ways behind them, who were watching them with beady eyes. A wide grin pulled at his lips.

"Aww, is Quackity becoming a mama duck? Are those your little ducklings?"

"Fuck no. They're little shits that moved into my living room, and I am fucking sick and tired of them squawking 'Never Gonna Give You Up' at the top of their tiny lungs in front of my bedroom door at two in the fucking morning!" He directed the last part at the ducks, neither of which appeared concerned by his ire. Pest #1 even began preening. Quackity threw his hands in the air. "See what I mean?! Little shits!"

Sapnap cackled. "Sounds like normal imprinting behavior to me."

"What, did you burst into song at ungodly hours of the morning when Bad adopted you?"

Sapnap shrugged. "Not song, but I did burst into flames."

". . . Of course you did."

At that moment, Karl swooped in, all bright colors and brighter smiles. "Quack! Sap! How are you guys?"

"Just peachy," Quackity grouched, then waved off Karl's look of concern. "No, no, it's nothing serious. Just some ducks that kept me up last night."

". . . Ducks?"

Quackity pointed at the ducks. Karl blinked. "Ah."

"So how's your memory?"

Karl winced. "I didn't know we planned a date," he confessed. "But I wrote it down! So technically I didn't forget!"

Quackity hummed. "And your last memory of me?"

"Waving to you on the road from Las Nevadas." When Quackity's shoulders relaxed, Karl beamed. "It's the right memory?"

"Yep. Looks like you're getting better." Quackity nudged Sapnap, breaking the tension. "Okay, enough with the serious talk - where are we going?"

"I heard Niki's been experimenting with danishes," Sapnap offered. "Cherry and greek yogurt. You up for something sweet?"

"Hell yes. Niki's goods are the best. Though--" Quackity hesitated, then held up a finger. "I just gotta-- one thing."

He turned to the ducks. "Stay," he ordered. "This is for us only. Got it?"

One duck quacked. The other ruffled its feathers and hopped off the path, wandering towards a pond in the distance. Quackity nodded to himself, then turned back to his amused fiancés.

"Right. Let's go get some danishes."

~~~

Karl stared at him, lips set in a neutral line. His vacant gaze roamed across Quackity's face. "Who are you?"

"Quackity," Quackity whispered. He reached out, taking Karl's hand. "Karl, it's me. It's Q. You know who I am."

Karl took a step back, jerking his hand from Quackity's grasp. "Woah there. Personal space."

"Karl, it's me! You know me!"

"I don't," Karl said, and he was already moving away, fading into the distance. Quackity lunged after him, only for a hand to close around his wrist and drag him back.

"Where do you think you're going?" The stench of alcohol and cologne washed over him, horribly familiar. Quackity stiffened, cold horror clamping around his heart even as he turned to face his attacker.

"Y-your dead," he stammered, trying desperately to tug his wrist free. "You can't-- you can't be here--"

"Now whoever told you that?" Schlatt's grasp tightened. "Hey. Stop that."

Quackity didn't stop, instead redoubling his efforts. "Let go! Let go of me, you bastard!"

Schlatt went still, and Quackity knew he'd gone too far. Slowly, finger by finger, Schlatt released his wrist, and Quackity stumbled back, throwing his hands up as he tried to protect himself from the incoming--

QUACK!

Quackity shot up, panting like he'd run a mile. Something nudged his hand, and he flinched, looking down to see Pest #1 settled on his lap.

". . . Fuck," he groaned, slumping forward and scrubbing a hand down his face. He took a moment to slow his heartbeat, breathing in slow, even, strokes. Thankfully, the duck remained docile through the episode. Quackity didn't think he could handle any surprises.

When he'd calmed enough that he could no longer hear his heartbeat in his ears, he folded his hands and stared down at the duck. "Thanks," he said. "For, uh, waking me up."

The duck blinked.

"You probably can't even understand me," Quackity muttered. He shook his head and swept his gaze around the bedroom, noting the open door. That must've been how the duck got in. "Wait, weren't there two of you?"

A glance to the side revealed Pest #2 standing at Quackity's bedside, a communicator clamped in its beak. Quackity stared at it for a moment, then shook his head. "I swear," he muttered. "The two of you are strangely intelligent for a pair of ducks."

Pest #2 flapped its wings and jutted its head out. Quackity rolled his eyes and snatched the communicator away, turning it over to check the time. 5 AM. Not too bad.

He moved to pocket his communicator, only for Pest #1 to peck at him. "Ow! What was that for?"

Pest #1 quacked and whacked his communicator with a wing. Quackity bopped it on the head, stowing the communicator away. "Hey. No. Bad duck."

The duck glowered.

"Look, I don't know what the fuck you want from me."

Pest #1 churred unhappily before settling down in a pathetic ball of feathers on Quackity's lap. Rather inconvenient, since Quackity had been planning on getting up. He briefly debated the merits of trying to move it, then recalled its caterwauling a few nights before and decided not to risk pissing it off. With a put-upon sigh, he lay back down. A moment later, Pest #2 settled on his stomach.

Quackity drifted off to sleep, nightmares fading beneath the grounding weight of his feathery companions.

~~~

Quackity took the final two steps up to the altar, stopping a foot away from his fiancés. Karl and Sapnap greeted him with grins, shuffling a bit closer as the last chords of the song rang through the room. Fundy let the sound hang in the air a moment more, then sat back in the piano stool. Foolish, standing behind the altar, adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. "Welcome, everyone. Please be seated."

The guests sat.

"Sapnap. Karl. Quackity. We're gathered here today to celebrate. . ." Quackity zoned out in a matter of seconds, letting his gaze wander towards his fiancés. Karl caught his eye and winked, then turned his attention back to Foolish. Sapnap, meanwhile, kept glancing towards the audience. Quackity followed his gaze.

The wedding was a small one, reserved for close friends and family. Most of Las Nevadas were there, with the exception of Purpled, who was currently on paid leave (Quackity's recompense for blowing up his UFO). Bad was similarly absent, and though he hadn't been particularly close to Sapnap recently, Quackity could still see the way the blaze hybrid glanced wistfully towards the empty pew beside Sam. Dream was absent as well, for. . . obvious reasons. At least George was present, dressed to his nines and looking fairly awake.

". . . and now the three will exchange vows. Karl?"

Quackity zoned back in in time to catch the end of Foolish's monologue. He turned his gaze towards Karl, who beamed. "Sap, Q. Thank you so much for your patience through this past year. I know it's had its rough patches--" Quackity winced internally at the reminder of that shitshow of a misunderstanding, "--but we got over them together, and I love you both so so much for never giving up on our relationship. I promise to return that patience tenfold, and to never give up on either of you. I promise to be your best friend and platonic husband, to honor, care for, and cherish you through all life's adventures. I promise to carry you in my heart where I can't take you physically, and. . ." he took a deep breath and met both of their gazes, eyes shining with startling intensity. "I promise that I will never, never forget you. You're my foundation, and I'm so honored to be able to spend the rest of my life with you."

Quackity believed him. It lifted a weight off his shoulders, a worry he hadn't been able to shake since the three of them had reconciled. He found himself relaxing, nerves draining away as Foolish turned to Sapnap.

"Sapnap?"

The blaze hybrid was trying to play it cool, pasting a wide smirk on his face. His eyes gave him away, though - they were literally glowing with excitement. "I'm not a poet like Karl," he drawled, "so I'll keep it simple. I fuckin' love you guys. You're two of my-- my closest friends, and I promise to never take our relationship for granted. I'll always trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, be at your side through whatever bullshit this server throws our way." He grinned, sharp and sly. "Can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you morons."

Karl slapped a hand over his chest in mock-offense. Foolish made a valiant attempt at maintaining his professionalism, though the corner of his mouth curled up. "Quackity?"

Quackity's heart thudded in his chest. Taking a deep breath, he curled and uncurled his hands. The last time he'd been at an altar like this, his partner-to-be never showed up. But now, looking at the sheer joy written across his fiancés' faces, he couldn't help but smile back. Fuck Schlatt. He was gone, and Quackity wouldn't let him drag him down ever again.

"Karl, Sapnap, I love you guys." The words flowed off his tongue, smoothed over by hours spent practicing in front of a mirror. "I promise to encourage you in everything you do, except the stupid things because we all know we're absolute idiots sometimes." Karl choked on air, and Sapnap snorted, ears flushing. "I promise to help shoulder our burdens because we're fucking unstoppable together. I promise to always treat you like equals, to be with you through whatever happens. And if I lose one of you - wherever you go, no matter how long it takes - I'll always find you again." He was grinning like a fool, but he couldn't care less at the moment. "To the end of time?"

"To the end of time," his fiancés agreed. Foolish nodded-- a signal. Slimecicle rose from the front pew and approached, a ring box in his hands. This was it - the moment they'd been waiting for. They'd gone through arguments and sleepless nights and literal wars for this, and looking at his fiancés, Quackity knew it had all been worth it.

"Wha-- what the fuck! No! Get off!"

A disharmonious screech followed by the clanging of piano chords drew the attention of all three fiancés to the piano, where Fundy was being assaulted by a duck who had begun quacking the opening notes of Pachelbel's Canon. Before anyone could react, though, their attention was drawn by another commotion. Slimecicle had lost the rings to a second duck, who had snatched the box from his hands and was now barreling down the aisle like a feathery bullet train.

Quackity sighed. "Well, fuck."

158.

"Dream, you just-- you just lie," Tommy hissed. "You can't-- there's no way you can actually bring people back to life."

"Wow, you don't trust me?" Dream pouted. "I'm hurt. Colon open parentheses."

Tommy stopped halfway to speaking his next line and took a moment to process what Dream had just said. "Did you just. . ."

"What?"

"Did you just read an emote out loud?"

"Maybe. Semicolon close parentheses."

Tommy narrowed his eyes. "Stop."

"No. Less than three."

"Tommy?" Tommy turned at the sound of his name, blinking when he saw Tubbo peeking out from behind Sapnap. The other teen glanced at Dream, brows furrowing. "What. . . what's happening?"

"Dream's being a bitch," Tommy called. He glared at Dream. "No more emojis."

"Make me. Colon close parentheses."

Tommy's face scrunched with disgust. "You are a terrible, horrible person."

"I know. Caret hyphen caret."

"I can and will kill you."

"Okay child. Colon capitAL D WOAH WOAH WAIT--" Dream scrambled back as Tommy took a step forward. "We can talk about this! You don't need to kill me! If I die, then death is permanent! Wilbur'll be dead forever!"

"I think he'd understand," Tommy deadpanned, raising his axe-- only for Tubbo to catch him by the arm.

"Wait, Tommy-- if he can bring Wilbur back. . . we can't kill him."

Tommy hesitated, torn between playing by loop script and acting on his burning hatred for the absolutely cursed bit Dream was currently pulling. "Right, but what if he uses that as. . . I dunno, leverage?"

"What if someone dies later?" Tubbo countered. "Without Dream, they'll-- they'll be gone forever. M'not saying we should just-- let him run around or whatever, but. . . we can keep him locked up somewhere, right? And he can. . . he can revive people! Without hurting anyone else!"

Five tense seconds ticked by. At last, Tommy lowered his axe. "Fine. Fine. Do we have anywhere to put him?"

Sam shifted, drawing the attention of the rest of the crowd. "Dream, uh, commissioned a prison a while back. We can put him in there."

Tommy and Tubbo exchanged glances. "That. . . sounds like a plan?" Tubbo offered. Tommy snorted.

"Hear that, green bitch? You're going to jail."

Dream shrugged. "At least I'll have a house. U-W-U."

Tommy twitched. Slowly, almost robotically, he turned to his fellow looper, who beamed beatifically back at him.

"Sorry Tubbo," Tommy said. "I changed my mind. This bitch doesn't deserve to live."

Ignoring the shouts of alarm, he lunged for Dream.

159. (credit to ori, Mushroom and hexx)

"So are you going to tell me why we're here now?"

"To watch the Red Banquet. Duh."

"You wouldn't have brought us here if you hadn't planned something," Dream pointed out. "So what is it? More glitter bombs? TNT?" He paused. ". . . Does this have anything to do with why you've been spending so much time at Church Prime?"

"Maybe?"

Dream stared at Tommy.

"I might have become a priest this loop," Tommy admitted.

Dream continued to stare at Tommy.

". . . and I used my priestly powers to bless the punch. So. It's holy punch now."

Dream took a deep, deep breath, and said with feeling, "Tommy, what the fuck."

"Hey, it might break the Egg's brainwashing bullshit!"

Dream's reply was interrupted by a commotion below. A puddle of punch was spreading rapidly across the table from the cup Bad had knocked over. Bad himself had fallen out of his chair, and was now curled on the floor, hissing in pain. He clutched his head, his fingers spasming as though he was trying to fend off a migraine. Ponk shot to his feet, alarmed, only to fall over a moment later and undergo a similar reaction. Antfrost and Hannah followed soon after, much to the confused terror of their tablemates. By the time Bad had managed to uncurl from his fetal position, over half the banquet attendees were out of their seats, hovering in various states of worry.

"Ugh. . ." Bad was the first to sit up, rubbing at his forehead. He peeled his eyes open, then blinked, gaze affixing on a distant point on the wall.

"Bad," Puffy called warily. "Are you okay?"

Bad promptly burst into tears. "SKEPPY!" he wailed. "Oh no, Skeppy, what have I done?!"

"Oh," Ponk said a moment later. He sat up, looked at the Egg, then looked at Sam. "Well, shit."

"That's one way to say it," Antfrost muttered, pushing himself up and scanning the room. His eyes were now a violet-tinged blue, still two shades off from their original color but much improved from their previous crimson. At the same time, Hannah had calmly gotten to her feet and turned to address the stunned banquet attendees.

"I was infected by the Egg," she said. Puffy and Sam gaped at her. "The other three were too. This was supposed to be a trap, and we were going to sacrifice you to the Egg, but then we got uninfected. Not sure how, but." She shrugged. "No more human sacrifice."

Above them, Tommy slowly lowered his head into his hands. "What the fuck. That was so fucking easy what the fuck."

Dream slapped a hand over his mouth to silence the sound of him absolutely losing it. Thankfully, the chaos below drowned out any laughter that slipped through.

The Egg, having lost most of its followers in a matter of minutes, shrieked with fury. The vines shifted, peeling themselves from the floor and walls and converging on the banqueters. In a moment of sheer insanity, Puffy picked up the jug of punch and chucked it at the Egg. It sailed in a perfect arc, miraculously losing little of its contents, and shattered against the parasite's shell.

The Egg howled. Before their very eyes, it shriveled, the holy punch draining its color from it and leaving it looking not dissimilar to a very large raisin. Its vines spasmed violently, slamming into the walls and floor before curling in on themselves and withering. The (former?) Eggpire shuddered in unison as its last cries died away, any remaining signs of corruption fading from their eyes.

"Okay," Sam said into the ensuing silence. "I'll ask. Who spiked the punch with holy water?"

"Excuse you," Tommy called. "I blessed it. It's holy punch. Like I'd ever water down punch. A crime, that would be."

"Wh-- Tommy?"

"No, it's the Egg in human form." At the various horrified stares that answer garnered, he rolled his eyes. "Yes, it's Tommy. Have none of you heard of sarcasm?"

"You weren't invited," Antfrost said. "How did you find out about this?"

"Like any of you were being subtle," Tommy scoffed. ". . . And I might have happened to overhear some things. Just happened, mind you. I don't eavesdrop on purpose, that wouldn't be very pogchamp of me."

Dream stifled a snort at the use of an unironic 'pogchamp'. Tommy bit back a vicious grin.

"So you. . . tampered with the punch?"

"Yes, well, I'm a priest of Church Prime. I blessed the punch, it broke the brainwashing. You're welcome."

"You killed the Egg," Sam said, "with punch."

"Technically Puffy was the one to kill it."

"You blessed the punch and it shriveled the Egg--"

"It was a pussy for being such a lightweight."

Dream lost the battle with his laughter, collapsing into loud guffaws. Tommy rolled his eyes.

"I will shove you off this beam," he threatened. Dream just laughed harder, right up until Quackity's voice cut through the air below.

"Is that Dream?!"

"Oh shit."

160. (credit to ori)

Tommy sneezed, then sneezed again. Dream wrinkled his nose, taking a step back. "Allergies?"

"Maybe. Or I caught a bit of a cold," Tommy grumbled. When Dream's eyes narrowed, he sighed. "'M fine. Just some sniffling and sneezing."

"Last time you got a serious fever, you destroyed half of L'Manberg."

"Last time was potion-induced. Won't happen this time."

"Hmm," said Dream, with a heavy undertone of I-don't-believe-you.

Tommy cheerfully decided to ignore the subtext. "Anyway! I actually gotta get to mining because that's what I'm supposedly out here to do, so if you could just fuck off--"

" Rude, child--"

"--not a child, bitch. Now leave before someone sees you, or I'll have to shank--"

"I'm going, I'm going!"

~~~

The next time Dream saw Tommy, they were on opposite sides of a battlefield.

He'd broken off his deal with Eret this time around, so L'Manberg morale was much higher. As a result, the four L'Manbergians - plus Eret, who remained a member of L'Manberg without the Final Control Room - were fighting with more vigor than usual. Dream played his usual part, aiming to cripple, not to kill. He purposefully avoided engaging Tommy in a fight, and Tommy did the same, taking on non-looping opponents to minimize casualties. It wasn't until their duel - one Dream planned to let Tommy win, since they'd started this loop too late to prevent the whole L'Manberg debacle - that Dream realized something was wrong.

Tommy's forehead shone with sweat, and even at a distance Dream could see how his steps were slightly off-kilter. What happened? Had he been injured earlier?

"Tommy," he called, lowering his bow. "You. . . are you okay?"

Tommy blinked slowly, as though he was moving through molasses. His mouth opened and closed. Once, twice. Dream had the presence of mind to throw his bow aside before lunging forward, catching his fellow looper as he crumpled to the ground.

"Tomm--?"

"TOMMY!" Wilbur was on him in the next instant, forcefully dragging Dream and Tommy apart. "What did you do to him?!"

"I didn't do anything," Dream protested, but Wilbur was already turning towards Tubbo, who had Tommy cradled in his arms.

"He's burning up," Tubbo reported, his voice wavering. "Like, bad. Really bad."

Wilbur turned back around, fingers curling in the front of Dream's hoodie, and Dream threw up a hand to catch the punch aimed at his face. He subtly signaled for his allies to stay out of it with his other hand. "Woah woah woah! I didn't hurt him, I swear! He just has a fever!"

"I'll be the judge of that," Wilbur snarled. He moved to strike again, but Dream grabbed his wrist and twisted, forcing him to let go.

"Innocent until proven guilty," he reminded the other man. "And beating me up won't make him better."

Wilbur hesitated. Dream's voice softened.

"Take him back to the base, Wilbur. Here, take these--" he reached for the potions in his inventory, only to realize that it had been emptied for the duel. "--never mind. Sapnap, you have my stuff, right? Can you grab the Healing and give it to them?"

Wilbur narrowed his eyes. "Why are you doing this? What's the catch?"

"No catch. We're all friends at the end of the day, aren't we?" At Wilbur's silence, Dream winced internally. "Or, well, we were. We took this war a little too far."

Wilbur's silence gained a distinctly icy edge. Dream sighed, stepping back and raising his hands. "Look, just-- take the potions, take Tommy back to L'Manberg, make sure he gets better. We'll leave you alone until he's better."

"But why?"

"For fuck's sake," Dream muttered, snatching the potions Sapnap held out and shoving them into Wilbur's hands. "Just take the damn things and make sure he gets better."

He spun on his heel and marched off before Wilbur could ask again.

~~~

"Eret?"

"Wilbur," Eret greeted. "I thought you were going to take a nap."

"I was," Wilbur admitted. "I just. . . couldn't sleep, thinking about-- about Tommy being sick, and Dream, and this war, and--"

"Wilbur."

Wilbur's jaw snapped shut. Eret reached forward to place a hand on Wilbur's shoulder.

"Tommy's going to be fine. It's just a fever. He's going to recover, and then we're going to win independence. Don't stress yourself so much. And for Prime's sake, go take a nap. I know you didn't sleep last night." At Wilbur's petulant silence, Eret sighed. "You know Tommy hates it when you run yourself into the ground."

Wilbur winced. "Low blow."

"I'll hit as low as I want if it gets you to take care of yourself," Eret retorted. "Just think of the example you're setting for the kids."

"Wh-- they know better than to use me as a role model!"

Eret opened his mouth for a reply, only to inhale sharply. His eyes went wide behind his sunglasses. Wilbur whipped around, heart plunging when he saw the man standing a few feet away.

"Dream?"

Dream blinked slowly at the two of them. He was dressed in nothing but a rumpled green hoodie and sweatpants. His armor, shoes, and mask were conspicuously absent.

Both L'Manbergians pulled out their weapons. "Dream," Eret said. "Why are you here?"

"Is Tommy okay?" Dream asked. Wilbur shifted, eyes narrowing.

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

". . . Wan' him to be okay," Dream murmured. Wilbur became suddenly aware of how strangely Dream was speaking, words running together like he wasn't in full control of his tongue. "Tell him to get better soon?" He pulled something from his inventory and held it out to Wilbur. "I got 'im a rock."

Wilbur blinked at the proffered rock - a chunk of cobblestone. "Um."

He was thankfully saved from answering by Sapnap and George, who appeared in twin bursts of violet particles. Before the remains of the shattered ender pearl had dissolved at his feet, Sapnap was already lunging forward, grabbing Dream by the shoulders and dragging him away from Wilbur.

"You idiot," he scolded. "Why the fuck are you out of bed?!"

"Tommy," Dream said, like that explained everything.

George sighed. "Dream, Tommy's fine."

"Sick," Dream protested, and proceeded to engage in a bout of hacking coughs that had both George and Sapnap stepping away. Wilbur, meanwhile, had come to an unfortunate conclusion.

"He got sick too?"

George and Sapnap pinned him with twin looks, as if to say 'no shit'. "Come on," George muttered, grabbing Dream's arm and tugging him in the direction of the Greater SMP. "It's not safe to be here."

Dream remained rooted to the spot. "Tommy," he insisted. His coughing had left his voice sounding like a grackle's squawk. Against his will, Wilbur found himself wincing in sympathy.

Then Eret shifted behind him. "Oh, no," he whispered. Wilbur tensed, unwilling to take his eyes off the enemy but tempted to turn and assess the new threat. What--?

"Dream?"

Wilbur froze, ice trickling down his spine. The gathered adults turned to see Tommy hobbling towards them, a nervous Tubbo at his heels. "I tried to stop him," the younger boy babbled. "I'm sorry, I tried but he wouldn't--"

"Dream," Tommy interrupted, and Wilbur stared as his second-in-command stumbled up to their enemy and proceeded to. . . hug him.

What.

And then Dream hugged him back.

What.

They pulled apart before Wilbur's brain had finished recalibrating. Dream pouted at Tommy, an expression very out of place on his face. "Your fault," L'Manberg's greatest enemy accused, jabbing a clumsy finger at the teenager's chest. Tommy began giggling for some unknown reason, which only made Dream scowl harder. "Made me sick."

"Didn't become a squirrel this time," Tommy sang. "L'Manberg's safe."

"Squirrel?" George asked. Wilbur had no fucking clue, so he ignored the question in favor of focusing on the predicament at hand.

"Tommy, sunshine, it's not safe--"

Tommy made an unintelligible grumble and flapped a hand in his general direction. "Shut," he ordered, the syllables tripping off his tongue. "'M talkin' to Dr'm."

"Shouldn't be up," Dream muttered, then held out the rock. "Here. Got you a rock. Because you rock."

Tommy stared at the rock for three long seconds, then shrugged and took it. "'Anks."

"Welcome," Dream said, completely serious. His next words were interrupted by a sneeze. And then another. Like a chain reaction, Tommy began sneezing as well. The force bowed him forward, straight into Dream, knocking the two of them into a pile on the ground. Their friends all flinched in alarm, but before anyone could actually do anything, Tommy rolled over so he was completely flopped over Dream.

"You make a good pillow."

"Th'ks," Dream mumbled. "This grass is comfy. . ."

"It's L'Manberg grass," Tommy informed him. "We have best grass."

"Mm." Dream was visibly nodding off. "Should. . . sell it."

"Fuck no." Tommy yawned, curling so his head lay against Dream's stomach. "Our. . . grass. No one. . . else. . ."

The L'Manbergians and Dream Team were left staring as the two mortal enemies fell asleep on each other.

Wilbur summed up the situation perfectly. "What the fuck?"

~~~

"'Allergies', you said. 'A bit of a cold', you said."

In lieu of a vocal answer, Tommy raised one middle finger. Dream huffed, only to nearly choke on his congested airways. He spent a few moments hacking into a wad of tissues, then fell back into his pillows.

". . . Are you feeling better?"

"Mn," Tommy grunted, which was Tommy-speak for no. Dream nodded, then regretted it when his skull throbbed. He slumped deeper into the pile of cushions behind him, head lolling sideways.

"It is kinda nice," he admitted. "Not having to worry about stuff for once and just. Resting."

"Mhm," Tommy grunted, somehow conveying both 'I agree' and 'shut the fuck up I want to sleep' in the same sound. Dream rolled his eyes but obliged, letting his breathing even out.

Together, they drifted off to the quiet ambience of a peaceful afternoon.

Loop Notes
156. In a land as primitive as theirs, space travel was not yet possible. And thus the moon remained un-nuked, much to the relief of the saner members of the server.
Additional note: look up Project A119 and Project E-4.
157. Yes, Quackity did end up pseudo-adopting the ducks. They were pests, but they were HIS pests.
160. L'Manberg and the Dream SMP were forced to form a temporary truce while Dream and Tommy were sick, because any attempts to separate them ended. . . poorly. This somehow led to everyone staying at the Community House, taking turns caring for the sick - which of course meant that everyone got sick. By the time they'd recovered, neither side was very willing to fight anymore - partially because of the semi-coerced bonding that came from spending two weeks in close quarters, and partially because none of the L'Manbergians could really see Dream as a tyrant after (in a state of extreme delirium) he clung to Wilbur and cried nonstop for a solid hour because he was convinced the "giant pink bunnies" were going to eat his hoodie.
And so that's how Dream and Tommy ended a war by getting sick.