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“This is so dumb.”
Techno looked over, balancing a stack of mismatched plates. Dream was hunched in his seat at the kitchen table, knees drawn up to his chest, half-heartedly stirring the bowl of flour and butter with shaking hands. “Heh?” Techno blinked, frowning slightly. “I thought you liked pumpkin pie, man — and besides, it’s tradition.”
“Wh — no, that’s my point,” Dream said, flailing a hand in exasperation. “What tradition? ‘Thanksgiving?’ Where are you even getting this holiday from?”
“Chat,” Techno said casually, putting the mismatched plates on the table and carefully starting to set them on the equally mismatched placemats. “A good amount of ‘em swear it’s a big deal.”
“So no one you actually know celebrates it.” The skepticism was clear even without looking at him. Outside, the snow was falling gently, settling on the windowsill and leaving the panes frosted white. Winter hadn’t quite set in yet, but it was decidedly getting there.
“I am at least ninety-five percent sure Chat is real,” Techno said, extremely seriously, resisting a grin. “Otherwise I’m just gettin’ money from imaginary head voices, which is decidedly more insane than getting money from real head voices.”
“But what’s the point?” Dream demanded. He tossed the wooden spoon back into the bowl, abandoning the mixture of the crumbly pie crust in favor of wrapping his skinny arms around his legs, resting his head on his knees. He looked pale in the light from the window.
Techno chuckled. “It’s in the name, Dream: Thanks-giving. You be thankful for stuff. And eat a lot of food. And have friends over. That’s what Chat tells me, anyway. It’s not like this the first time I’ve done it — Phil and I have done it for years, this is just the first time there’s gonna be more people.” Therefore, it was important that he got things right. As right as he could get them, anyway, while going off of a probably-made-up holiday taught to him by several thousand overlapping head voices.
He glanced over at the shiny new clock hung on the wall — new, because Dream had a tendency to burn them when he was feeling bored (meaning, lonely and desperate for attention). “Niki and Ranboo should be here in like… an hour. And Phil’s bringin’ a turkey.”
“That’s cannibalism,” Dream muttered. “Crows and turkeys are, like… basically the same thing.”
“Different colors,” Techno suggested. “Totally different.” He straightened the cutlery by the chipped, bluish plate in front of him. “Don’ worry, we’ve got ham too.” He laughed at Dream’s sound of exasperation, moving to pick up the bowl he’d been stirring. Calling it ‘mixed’ would be generous, but it would be good enough.
He started adding the crumbly pastry dough approximate to the pie tin, pressing it into the corners. He’d made a fair amount of pumpkin pies over the years, and Chat insisted it was important to the holiday. Niki had promised to bring some other baked desserts as well. And Ranboo was bringing something too, though he’d been vague on what. Techno wasn’t entirely sure Ranboo knew how to cook anything other than cake. But it would probably be edible, at least. Altogether, there should be a good amount of food to enjoy. And friends to enjoy it with, which was decidedly the best part.
Speaking of which —
Techno glanced over at Dream, who hadn’t moved beyond burying his face in his arms. “You good?” he checked, dusting flour off of his hands.
Dream groaned. “Prime, I’m fine,” he muttered without looking up. “Just — nauseous.” A beat later, and he added, more subdued, almost apologetic, “I’m not going to be able to eat anything.”
Techno inhaled the smell of the kitchen, scents of baking and cooking and spices all mixing together in what was, to him, an absolutely fantastic smell. To Dream, probably bordering on far too much. “Can always see how you’re feelin’ in a bit,” Techno offered. “You don’ have to eat much if you don’ want to, but it’d be great if you ate something.” He gestured grandly at the kitchen. “After we spent aaall this time preparin’ this fantastic food —“
“I didn’t — I know that!” Dream spat, finally looking up at Techno, slamming his hand on the table. His eyes were overly bright, and he looked away again, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t… mean to. I don’t.” His voice was low, rough, in his “I’m not going to say ‘I’m sorry’ out loud but I really am sorry” tone that Techno was all too familiar with.
Techno just didn’t like that he was using that tone now, when he really had nothing to be sorry about. Dream’s struggle with eating pretty much anything had been one of the more stubborn ills left over from Pandora, and it wasn’t uncommon, even now, months later, for Dream to go days with eating next to nothing.
But still — he’d hoped that Dream would be able to eat at least something today. Though he certainly didn’t need to apologize for not being able to. “You don’ gotta eat anythin’ you don’ want to,” Techno assured him. “I’m not really upset about it, Dream, I was just kiddin’. I just wanna make sure you’re not goin’ hungry, ‘s’all. We can always get ya somethin’ else if this is all too rich, don’ worry.” He patted Dream on the shoulder, and went back to his pie crust.
“…What else do people do on Thanksgiving?” Dream asked after a stretch of silence. His voice was more steady now, though still quiet.
“I mean, I think that’s most of it,” Techno said, setting the pie tin down, and picking up the other bowl of pumpkin pie mixture. “Just eatin’, hangin’ out with people, and bein’ thankful.” Chat had offered a plethora of other ideas — something about a ‘super bowl’ — but those three seemed to be the main themes of the probably made-up holiday. “Anythin’ you’re thankful for today, Dream?” he asked, in a slightly sing-song voice.
Another long pause. Techno poured the pie mixture into the tin, scraping the sides with a spatula to get it all out.
“…You.”
Techno blinked, looking over at Dream. “Heh?”
“I’m not saying it again, idiot,” Dream mumbled. His face was red, and he ducked his head, refusing to look at Techno.
“Well, I’m thankful for you too, teletubbie,” Techno said, grinning, and turning back to his pie. The sun broke through the clouds outside, dancing off of the snow on the windowsill. “And the sun. That’s pretty great, too,” he added.
Dream exhaled slowly. “I missed the sun,” he mumbled.
Techno slid the pie into his oven, before turning and gesturing at the window. “Well, you can have it all ya want now.”
Dream followed his gaze outside, and his eyes were overly shiny again, reflecting the light. “Yeah,” he said, low. “Guess I can.”