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Despite the hours he spent thinking about it, Dream still couldn't figure out he had ended up here.
He'd done everything right, bought locks for his house, and was wary of anyone too friendly or charming.
Dream himself had never been accused of being friendly, and he'd pushed away practically everyone to protect himself. Which ironically, was what had made him so uniquely vulnerable to this.
The curse of a total stranger. Someone with no motive, with no need to charm, though they had plenty of it. Someone he'd never managed to send a worried text about because he'd never seen him coming.
Dream winced as cold water ran over him, washing over his bruised face and weighing down his shirt.
Lucifer stared at him, which always brought only revulsion to Dream. He hated being stared at, cheapened by the judgemental gaze of strangers and their perceptions of him.
Dream wrapped his thin arms around his chest, freezing, just like Lucifer wanted him to. When Dream's teeth started miserably chattering, Lucifer made a soft sound.
Amusement. His kidnapper was amused.
Dream glared back, trying to imbue as much spite and hatred as he could muster into it. All his life, Dream had been hated for the way his eyes could go empty, haughty, indifferent. Cold with arrogance and disinterest.
He hoped he looked indifferent right now. Empty, miserable, whatever the opposite of weak and amusing was.
"I'll let you freeze if you don't take them off," Lucifer promised. His voice was the same perfect pitch it had been since Dream had woken up, drugged and confused in this freak's fucking cellar.
Which had really confused Dream. Lucifer didn't look like a kidnapper. Not with his perfect blonde curls and rich way of talking. He hadn't once asked for a ransom, or for sex, or for something understandable, or even explained why him.
Didn't bother explaining how he'd done it either, or brag about how smart he was.
And Dream knew that Lucifer would probably do it. Like he'd let Dream starve for hours when Dream refused to speak to him.
The logical part of Dream's mind said he probably should shower, after four days of being locked in a cellar. The part of his mind that always unnerved him with its technicalities and rationalized concessions.
Dream very rarely spared himself pain and listened to that part.
He had thin scars on his back from other times when he'd ignored that voice. Memories of being locked in rooms, or feeling a ruler on his knuckles when he ignored that logic.
Dream felt the cold in his bones now. It wasn't even cold anymore, just pain. Waves and waves of pain slammed past numb skin to his veins and muscles.
His skin had turned red, then whitened and Dream noted his nails turning grey and purple.
His fingers were needles, his cheeks raw and stung with cold. Dream clumsily ripped the wet shirt off him, then fumbled with the buckle to his jeans with unfeeling hands.
Lucifer watched unhelpfully, and Dream glared at him, shaking, his heavy jeans lying in a heap at his ankles.
"I said, take all of it off. I know you're cleverer than this, sweetheart." Lucifer said calmly, his dead blue eyes practically glacial. Dream steeled himself against yet another indignity and pushed his underwear down too.
When the water started warming, he hissed with pain. It hurt enough for Dream to double over, held upright by one of Lucifer's arms.
Dream pushed him off, holding onto the slick handle instead.
Every nerve misfired, trying to switch gears and it ached in Dream's skin, the agonized confusion.
Finally, his skin numbed again, slowly warming as heated drops struck it over and over and Dream blinked away shocked tears.
He couldn't get enough of the warmth. Was anyone even looking for him?
Aside from Death, none of his siblings spoke to him. He had an unconventional job, and it was extremely unlikely they'd notice his absence.
"I got you something." Lucifer interrupted Dream's every escape. Starved him until he spoke, threatened to break his fingers when he messed with locks and touched him just when Dream felt safe.
Dream tilted his head back, ignoring him. What the hell would he do? Fucking-
Dream flinched away when he felt Lucifer's hand on his neck and Lucifer's grin broadened.
Lucifer handed him a kit of some kind. "I want you looking your best, my dear Morpheus."
A name nobody that knew Dream ever called him, and it was a mercy Lucifer didn't know better. It let him hide from Morpheus and Morpheus's embarrassment and the general misery of being kidnapped.
"What do good boys say?" Lucifer purred and gripped Morpheus's hair punishingly when he stayed silent again.
Dream felt the water cooling again on his exposed throat and finally cracked. "Thank you." It came out raspy and tired.
The water warmed again and Lucifer's smile bled into his voice.
Dream bitterly opened it. Soaps, tweezers, ominous facial tools, and nail clippers.
Water pelted it all and Dream had no idea how he was expected to do anything while being watched.
"Is something wrong?"
Dream's hands clenched around the wired rim of the bag. This was so humiliating. To the best of Dream's knowledge, he'd been kidnapped for four days now.
Four days of keeping up with Lucifer's various whims of playing house and playing nice and being scolded and starved and hit when his well-mannered kidnapper was bored.
And yet he only felt tears pricking his eyes now. Only now did he have to angle his head towards the spray to hide, because what was he supposed to do about this?
He wanted to be hit, to suffer because that's what made sense. Not this-
"I asked you a question." There was an unsettling flatness to Lucifer's voice. Dream was quickly becoming an unwilling apprentice in Lucifer's various tones.
This was a warning that unless he wanted to be drowned in the tub he should say something.
His hands started shaking. "Nothing is wrong." He made them stop, but he couldn't make himself look at Lucifer right now. Not with his teary red eyes.
"Do you need my help, dearest?" Lucifer asked, and Dream stared in horror as his hand, dragged up his arm. An arm that increasingly felt alien.
Cut off. Removed. Not his anymore.
"No." Dream couldn't make himself remove Lucifer's arm, despite nausea growing inside him. He shook out of it and let go of the bag with his right hand, dislodging Lucifer's too.
"I want you to look pretty." Lucifer cooed suddenly like he knew which words would eat their way through Dream's mind.
Until the voice in his head wasn't his, but Lucifer's instead.
Before Lucifer got bored enough to provoke a reaction, Dream took the only step back he could until he felt the handle against his spine.
"Fine." Dream ground out, furious again. With no real intention, Dream vaguely moved his fingers over the various implements.
"There is shaving cream in that pocket there," Lucifer added and Dream closed his fingers around the cold metal tin.
Hatred did not do this justice. There was no fucking word for what he wanted to do to Lucifer.
Dream's eyes widened when he heard the sound of a phone ringing. Lucifer grimaced, but the noise grew louder.
"Feel free to start, unless you'd like me to watch." Lucifer snapped suddenly and Dream felt rage burn through him.
Of course, he'd put this on him. Lucifer snarled at the phone and half-turned, clicking the call open.
Dream knew he should listen, try and glean information. But his mind had gone dull with bitter anger. He hated every word that came out of Lucifer's mouth, hated the way Lucifer hit him before reminding him how much worse it could have been.
It made him physically ill to see the bruises Lucifer had left and then have the bastard make him say thank you that it wasn't worse.
Dream's hand shook with anger as he dislodged the razor. Anger was his worst emotion. His worst trait.
It got Nada hurt, it made him ignore Calliope's burgeoning unhappiness, and it made Desire and Despair hate him. It was the reason Death hadn't come see him the night Lucifer kidnapped him.
And it was that blind anger that made him tighten his grip around that blade and dig it carefully into his thigh. Then down.
Whatever Lucifer could do, Dream could do to himself and worse. Dream reminded himself of that, remembering all the fucking concessions he'd made. Blood trickled down in a diluted stream.
It wasn’t nearly deep enough to kill him, just scar. And hurt.
Dream couldn't hold back his pained breath as ragged skin caught the water, and the ache fully set in.
"Let me call you back." Lucifer snapped over the phone and Dream breathed out furiously, staring at him.
"Am I pretty enough for you yet?" Dream gasped out, delighted with the cold anger on Lucifer's face. He moved the razor back to the wound.
In a moment, Lucifer slammed Dream's wrist into the wet wall behind him. The razor clattered out of Dream's hand and Dream bit down on his lip, every movement agony.
The water turned off and Dream held back cries as air brought new pain to the cut.
"I will make you regret that," Lucifer informed him, his face inches from Dream's.
Dream closed his eyes as he felt more blood trickle out, lightheaded from the sudden feeling of despair more than blood.
He stumbled as Lucifer dragged him out, shivering as Lucifer dumped him on the cot, the towel slipping off his damp shoulders.
The TV was playing the news, the only channel it ever played. As though Lucifer was trying to remind him-
Dream closed his eyes as the needle pricked his skin.
Maybe he should have taken the out, he thought, as Lucifer painfully stitched up the cut. Dream refused to let Lucifer see any kind of tears, even though it hurt bad enough to cause a lump in his throat.
He coolly met Lucifer’s eyes when Lucifer was done. Dream fully expected to be slapped, or scolded-
“Looks like you cannot do anything yourself, Morpheus.” Lucifer sighed, patting his leg and Dream tugged it away.
Lucifer smirked, grip on Dream’s leg tightening. “Such a good thing I’m here to take care of you.”
“Let go.” Dream snapped, digging his nails into Lucifer’s hand.
“In other news, the search for Morpheus, or Dream as friends and family call him has entered its second day. Sources say the-”
“Dream.” Lucifer echoed, lips curving maliciously. He said it like it was a new toy to play with. "Well, doesn't that just suit you perfectly?"
It made Dream’s blood run cold. He was really here, and he didn't think he was leaving.