undergrounds | Mr. Sandman

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Mr. Sandman

6 Feb.

It's February, still cold but Valentine's Day just around the corner and people starting to think of spring, it might not be surprising that romance seems to be in the air. Hard to pin down just what the difference is—but romance seems to be nagging at a lot of minds.

It might be because last night, you had a dream. Nothing clear, but bits and pieces stick with you. Maybe it was just stolen glances and light kisses, or maybe it was flashes and surprising jolts of something more physical, more raw. Either way, the dream doesn't quite fade away when daylight comes.

The strangest part? It's about someone you normally try not to think of that way.

Dreams are like that though, sometimes. It's probably nothing.

10 Feb.

A few days later, and the dreams keep on keeping on. For at least one person, it's every night. For others, it may be more intermittent. It may be just happening for the first time, after a visit to the Redbright Institute or passing through the surrounding neighbor, or after chatting with a particular vampire. It might happen spontaneously. Either way the dreams keep coming, and they continue to be about someone in particular, someone who you've been denying or ignoring your attraction to, but it's getting hard to pretend you don't feel a little warmer when you think about them.

It's starting to seem like there's something a little weird going on here. Even weirder? There's a chance that the person you're dreaming about is having the same dreams. Not just romantic dreams—the exact same shared dreams.

At least, they are if they're dreaming of you too.

14 Feb.

It's been a week now, and the dreams keep escalating. Not only do they become more frequent, they're more vivid. What started with disjointed images and feelings, more impressions than anything else, have evolved into full narratives—ranging from chastely romantic nonsense, imagining that the object of your desire is a knight coming to rescue you from a dragon, or arrived to offer comfort and support in a bleak moment, to intensely erotic. Some of them may be down right silly.

But the common thread is there. They are all about the same person, and they all expose the fact that you care about them in a way that's not as platonic as you've pretended.

And maybe it's about time you confronted that?

On the other hand, maybe you're just riding this out.

Either way, this is getting sorted out tonight. There's not going to be a better time for it

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Her eyes are locked with Natasha's, a smile playing on her lips as she finishes off the strawberry juices from her thumb.

"Surprise me."

Natasha's eyes linger on Evie's lips three long seconds before she leans in and brushes her own lips over the other woman's lightly, as though tasting the juices that aren't there.

It's her first kiss with a woman. But her lips feel just the same as any man's ever had- perhaps even softer. She lets Natasha kiss her for a moment, before one of her hands comes to cup the other woman's cheek so that she can find herself kissing back.

It is not Natasha's first time, either in her dreams or in reality, she she's confident, kissing Evie until she kisses back, then melting under the kiss, drawing her deeper. One hand cups Evie's cheek, guiding her into a soft, lingering kiss, drawing it out a long moment before she sits back breathlessly. Her chest rises and falls quickly above her corset—it's cliche, and feels a little silly even in the dream.

Does she even have to breathe?

Evie leans forward, leaning against her, pressing against her as the kiss deepens. But all too soon it's over, and her lips feel cold.

"I'm sorry," she says, looking deep into her eyes. "I shouldn't have done that."

Natasha blinks at that, then laughs—a throaty chuckle just in her throat, warm and a little incredulous. "I'm pretty sure I was the one who did it."

"I could have sworn this was my doing." She doesn't move away, her hand resting on Natasha's hip.

"Hm? Well... maybe it is." Natasha says, wetting her lips and leaning in again, brushing her lips over hers slowly, as though checking just whose fault this is.

Evie pulls back just briefly, still resting her forehead against Natasha.

"We're both at fault, then," she whispers, her voice low. Their lips meet again.

Natasha meets the kiss sweetly, her hand going to Evie's back and pulling her in with a confident touch. She's not in a rush, but she wants to be close to her friend. Closer than they've been yet.

Evie can feel herself trying to fit against Natasha, pressing a bit more of her weight against her. Natasha's energy seems to shift, and with it, Evie does as well, deepening the kiss between the two women.

The kiss deepens, becoming more pointed—more heated and directed toward a particular outcome, an urgency slipping into the contact. Natasha can't deny the appeal of seeing this through, the way it excites her. She doesn't want to deny it—

Natasha wakes with a start, sitting upright in bed in her dark room an panting softly. For a short moment, her thoughts are clouded with the dream and she stares in confusion at the blank walls. Then, as the world comes into sharper focus, she sighs deeply. This is the fourth or fifth time she's had dreams like this that she could remember. It's not normal. Not because her friend isn't desirable, but because she knows her dreams.

They're never this good.

It's time, she thinks, to talk about this.

The time to talk happened to be February 14th. The plan that Evie proposed had been simple: come on over, we'll drink and watch horror movies. it just happened to be on February 14th and maybe there would be overpriced heart-shaped chocolates.

Just to eat. Not for any other sort of reason, why would you ever think that?

Truthfully, the dreams had been on the forefront of Evie's mind, and she'd almost canceled her plans. But that would be rude, they'd been planning this before any dreams happened and what did dreams even mean, anyway? Evie wasn't the sort to put any sort of stock into them.

Still, was it just her, or were things a bit odd between her and Natasha, as they sat drinking wine on her couch. "Is everything alright?" She asked the other woman.

Natasha had been lost in thought, not paying attention to the movie that had been playing for half an hour or so now. Memories of the dreams from recent nights surface sitting next to her friend, distracting her.

She shakes off her reverie when Evie speaks up. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

"You've been quiet most of the movie," she says, as though it's not a huge deal, just some casual observation she made.

"Usually you're not so quiet." Usually they sat closer. Though Evie was finding herself feeling oddly grateful for the space. And yet so isolated.

"I'm not normally that loud, am I?" she asks it wryly, dodging the implication at first, but her memories aren't so easily dismissed. She sets down her wine and shifts, leaning a little closer as she admits, "Guess there's a lot on my mind. Sorry about that."

"No, but you're more..." she glances at the other woman. "Comfortable...?" Was that the right word? When did having friends become this strange?

She nods. "I understand. If there's anything you wish to talk about, you know you count on me." They were friends. No matter what weird dreams said.

"No, it's nothing." She answers quickly, her first instinct again to brush off the question. She doesn't stop there, but even admitting more, Natasha can't bring herself to treat it seriously. Not in the light of day.

Metaphorically speaking.

"It's silly. I've been having these dreams—just having some trouble shaking them."

She frowns, but only slightly. It's really the flicker of movement in the corner of her mouth.

Then Natasha says dreams, and Evie finds herself leaning in instinctively. "What about them?" she says as casually as she can. "You do know you can tell me anything, I hope you know that." She reaches out and gingerly puts her hand on Natasha's knee. It's a comforting gesture.

Evie might mean it as a comforting gesture, but while Natasha enjoys the touch, it's far from relaxing. A little thrill goes up her leg in response.

"It's silly," she says. "And strange. I think—something strange is going on here."

For a moment, Evie freezes. Going on here? Did Natasha know about Evie's dreams, somehow? How soft her lips had felt, the taste of strawberries and the warmth of her breasts...

No. It was just a dream, she had to focus. "What do you mean?"

"I don't usually have dreams like that, and they've been... persistent." Natasha isn't entirely sure how to explain this. Or how to read Evie's reaction. "I made this weird, didn't I?"

Evie purses her lips.

"No- you didn't make this weird. I've been having... strange dreams, as well." Okay, cards on the table, apparently. "More cohesive than your average dream, I suppose."

Natasha's chin comes up at that, her attention sharpening. She has thought that something was strange her, even toyed with the idea of unnatural. This lends some credence to what she'd considered a paranoid theory.

"There was a horse back ride—and I was in a corset."

Oh. Oh god. Evie blanches, then flushes, ducking her head to try to hide it. How awful- to be blushing, but the reminder of how amazing Natasha had looked, how badly she'd wanted to rest her cheek against her fair flesh...

"And there were strawberries..."

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