it's one am and you're (still) gone | technoblade/dream|

sandwiches and negotiations

dream offers a laugh, rubbing the nape of his neck. "sorry!" he replies, the pristine mask reflecting the afternoon sun right into technoblade's eyes.

swallowing down the water as fast as possible, he offers it back to the man, "did you get my letter?" his tone is lazy, unfocused as techno stretches, wincing at the sharp pain, his overworked muscles getting revenge for their mistreatment.

"of course I did. passed it on to the others, too," he places the canteen back onto his belt loop, noticing how much lighter it was moments later. dressed in a loose, long sleeved green shirt, dark pants and thick, worn boots, dream looked the same as he always does. techno almost admires his commitment to being so.. basic. he can't really talk, though, especially with how he looks at the moment.

"so what're you doin' here?"

"checking on you," dream throws back, a gleaming smile on his lips.

techno's nose is scrunching up now, in disgust and a little bit of confusion. "aren't you the one who's always calling me a simp?"

dream snorts, shaking his head as he fiddles with the fabric of his sleeves. "whatever," he says, squeezing past techno and into his small yet homely little shack. the sounds of crops being planted in the distance was rhythmic—techno had been talking about the workers he dubbed 'minions' he had hired. instead of getting pay, they got shelter, leaving them to happily slave away under this hyperfixated weirdo. he plops down on the carefully constructed wooden chair that sits next to the window, nearly falling back as its rotting frame creaks. "have you eaten yet?" it only takes dream a few seconds to realize the mistake, "sorry. what do you want to eat?"

"I can just eat an apple, it's fine," the exhausted man states, pulling his door shut even as he glares at dream. he hadn't even asked to enter, he thinks.

"yeah, no. I can make you a sandwich?" dream offers and technoblade shrugs, laying down on his wooden cot.

"knock yourself out,"

within seconds, dream is shooting up from the seat, rushing over to what technoblade had told him was his food storage.

"I thought you didn't give a shit about me," techno says, watching him closely even as his eyelids droop again. he shouldn't be sleeping, he thinks. farming. all he has to do is eat fast enough so he can get on the fields without dream's bitching."

"hey," the charismatic—wait what? why did he think—"even the worm turns." taking one of the two heads of lettuce from the produce box, plucking a few leaves from it. he then takes the freshly baked bread, slicing it and sticking the lettuce on both slices. he then takes some of the leftover steak from.. what was that, the day before yesterday? he hopes it's still good to eat. after slicing the steak, he layers that on top of the lettuce, sticking a tomato and a slice of cheese in there too, putting the two halves together and offering it to technoblade, who simply takes it.

"thanks," he mutters, taking a bite. he wasn't prepared for what dream had to say next, though.

"how long do you usually farm for?" dream is (honestly) not sure how to go about this problem. maybe he could help him? leave the man with a couple of hours at the end of the day? his body must be killing him, he thinks, watching him like a hawk through the mask. each of techno's movements are forced, like they take ten times the amount of energy they usually would. it takes him a little too long for comfort to eat. dream finds his legs bouncing as he desperately tries to calm his nerves.

techno had.. admittedly, become a little more toned since this whole thing started. a little was a bit of an understatement, but still! don't get him wrong, techno had always been handsome in dream's eyes—dear lord, you're digging a hole for yourself—but this techno? this muscular, dirtied techno that held this sort of.. air to him? dream had to admit that it was attractive. "ten to twelve hours," techno responds, finishing the sandwich and brushing off his hands as he rolls to his side to look at dream, his deep, mahogany eyes deeply set, soft yet oh so tired. the blank, smiling expression he received from the mask was a little unsettling, truthfully.

"think we could half that time with me helping you?"

the idea sounds alien, oh so very alien to techno, and he shakes his head immediately. "no," he says, "you're not helping me,"

"why not?"

silence. dream is met with a silence that screams 'i know exactly why, but you'll be more concerned if I tell you,' techno knows the dangers of this. he knows how hard it is on your body, he knows it's unhealthy. call him hypocritical, but he's gonna face it alone cause only then would he be the only victim.

"cause. I don't want help," dream frowns again.

"yeah no. I'm helping and that's final. you wanna rest a little more?"