MANHUNT {dreamnotfound}

16 • An Old Friend

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR COMMENTS/FEEDBACK they always make me smile agsgdhjdbe. updates seem to be every 4-5 days with me, but may take longer because I'm doing online college </3

anyway enjoy this loooong chapter :))))))

Edited 16/8/22
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Dream had been a lot of shitty situations — countless, really.

He was always getting himself into trouble, and he was almost accustomed to being threatened. He was almost remiss about it, knowing he'd probably be able to pull a last-minute escapade to spare his own life.

But this — this. This was different.

George was the one who was in trouble, and the threat wasn't something he could easily dispose of.

Drax, broad-shouldered and dark-haired, was a friend, or at least resembled the loosest definition of the word. He wasn't necessarily a good person, (though neither was Dream, he reminded himself hastily), but Drax was his ally, if anything.

They'd always had each other's backs because they had little else.

Now, though, he was threatening something Dream cared about — for once, he had care toward something other than the map. He didn't know when his amusement with George had transferred to a genuine care, but... it was too late to consider how messy that was, let alone that unspoken feeling between them... the way they looked at each other...

Drax believed that Dream still hated George, he believed them to be on the same side.

George's wide brown eyes were on Dream. "What the hell is this?"

There was a note of accusation in his voice that Dream chose not to dissect too much.

"This is Drax," he said, still rather stunned, still processing through the scrambled mess of his mind. He wasn't sure how to play his cards, not yet.

Drax lost some of his giddiness, glancing between the men with a raised brow.

"You haven't heard of me, Hunter?" He sounded mock-insulted. "Drax and Dream, the thieves you can't catch?"

He nudged the sharp knife closer, and George's face became scrunched with fury. "No, I don't lower myself to your level."

"Are you hearing this?" Scoffed Drax. He nodded to Dream. "Honestly, you should be thanking me. I found this goon staring at you while you were asleep, like he was gonna push you in the well, or some shit." He started laughing, loud and harsh, his mouth wide, lines pulling at the corners of his mouth. There was something unhinged about him, something Dream felt suddenly very wary of. "It's not like you to sleep unprotected."

He forced a laugh in reply. "I was tired. This one's been on my tail for weeks. Guess I let him catch up."

"Guess you did," Drax leered at George, who looked willing to spit at him.

"Why are you so far out here?" Dream asked, feigning interest. Maybe he could stall him long enough to spare George.

"You know me, I'm just roaming. Talk of some hidden treasuries out here, outposts in the desert and whatnot."

Briefly, he recalled all that he and Drax had done together, before. They would raid the King's bases using Dream as a distraction, and Drax would sneak in to disable anyone inside. Dream never asked if he'd killed them or just knocked them unconscious, mostly because he hadn't really wanted to know. After all, they didn't ask each other questions.

Dream only cared for the chase, the excitement. Drax was more concerned with the treasure — the reward of it. Sometimes that meant killing, too, as a form of reward.