Daily Snippit: Urban/Suburban Fantasy

“So this is a dream.”

Matthias was used to lucid dreams, so the fact that he found himself back in his old room in Donnshire wasn’t at all alarming. That Cassian was sitting on the edge of the bed glaring at him was something new, but who was he to argue with his subconscious? So he gave Cass a sleepy grunt and worked his face deeper into the pillow.

Your dream.”

Matthias muttered something unrepeatable, and surfaced just enough to give Cass a one-eyeball look of doom. He’d been up much too late last night looking for the real Cass to play nice with figments of his obviously deranged imagination.

“Hmph.” Cass didn’t look at all convinced. After a moment of silence -and a few blissful seconds of dreaming that he was dreaming (and that was just too odd to think about)- Cass poked him again. “So why am I here?”

Matthias rolled over so he could deliver the full force of his WTF glare. Just like real life, it did nothing to dim dream-Cassian’s line of questioning.

“This is your dream, why am I here.”

“Because I’m crazy. Apparently.” And because he was worried, which apparently meant getting grumpy lectures from missing werewolves. He was going to have a good long talk with Maggie in the morning, this was getting ridiculous.

“Yes, yes, but why am I here.” Cass poked him again. “You should dream of me, not me literally.” Which made no sense at all, but Cass seemed rather upset about the whole business and Matthias really wanted to sleep.

So he pounced on dream-Cass and bundled him under the blankets, which (being dream blankets) were warm and comforting and the bed was much nicer that it had ever been in real life. Other than a startled ‘eep!’ Cass was amazingly relaxed about being turned into a wereburrito.

“There, now sleep.” Matthias yawned and reclaimed his own half of the bed. “I have to look for you tomorrow, you know.”

“Right, as opposed to looking for me now.” Cass muttered, but it was a sleepy mutter so Matt ignored him. “Fine, fine,” Cass gave up and snuggled in beside him, a comforting mass of body heat and the whiff of cinnamon fur. “Just next time, dream us a bigger bed.”

And that was that.

Martha Bechtel

My name is Martha Bechtel and I write fantasy and science fiction stories, paint small model horses silly colors, cast resin and plaster magnets, code random code (and Wordpress plugins)... Come on in and join in the fun!

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