I'm on my way to Schlatt's office when I hear the yelling. A monstrous cacophony of voices, each trying to rise above the other. I recognise one easily as Schlatt's, but the other...the other sounds like Quackity?

My fingers barely graze the door before one swings inward and a red-faced Quackity storms out. He sends me a sharp glare, his lips pressed thin, and proceeds to march down the hall and out of sight.

I stand, bewildered by Quackity's hateful expression. Did he think I heard the argument?

Edging into the office, I find Schlatt pouring himself a glass of whiskey. His hair is unruly and falls all about the place, tangled around his ram horns. He looks like shit.

"What was that all about?" I question, walking over to perch at the edge of his desk. I place my hands in my lap and wait patiently for him to finish down the glass. Which he does, in record time, and drops it onto the desk with a loud clink.

"A fucking mess." He grumbles, sitting back and pushing a hand through his curls. "Apparently I don't respect my Vice President the way he wants me to. Like, what the fuck does that even mean? I respect him! Especially when he doesn't give crappy advice." Schlatt sinks deeper into his chair and reaches for the bottle of whiskey again.

"It sounds to me like you haven't been giving Quackity enough positive reinforcement," I say after a moment's thought, lifting the whiskey bottle up and out of the man's reach before he can take another swig. "If you're only scolding him for the things he does wrong, and ignoring the things he does right, then he'll only see you in a negative light. You should praise him the next time you see him, or even better, thank him." I scrunch up my nose. "The whiskey isn't helping, either. How much have you drunk today? Scratch that, this week?"

"It's his job to get things right. Why should I praise him for doing what's expected of him? And gimme my bottle back."

"No. You've had enough, sir." I scold lightly, "it's not even the afternoon and you smell like a brewery already. I'll get you a protein shake if you're thirsty."

A pair of large hands grip my sides, pulling me down from the desk and onto Schlatt's lap. I raise an eyebrow but make no effort to move.

"I'm tired," he sighs suddenly, looping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my stomach.

I falter, unsure what to do with this mood change. Is this a ruse to lower my guard, or is he actually exhausted?

Placing the whiskey bottle back on the desk, I run my fingers through his hair, like a mother soothing her child.

"Being President isn't supposed to be an easy job," I say softly.

The man says something but his words are muffled against my stomach. I give a small laugh, curling my fingers in his hair.

"What was that? I didn't quite hear."

"How the fuck are you so perfect?" He mutters, tilting his head back to peek up at me. His dark eyes are half-lidded and sleepy.

"Is that the alcohol talking?" I question with a hum, placing my hands to his cheeks.

He sighs contentedly and leans into my touch, his eyes flickering closed. "Does it matter? I'm still the one saying it."

"True." I muse.

My heart softens as I gaze down at this horned man, his breathing soft and his expression even softer. Again I'm reminded of just why I follow this sly fool. It's for this side of him. The side that I love.

There's a knock at the door.

"Someone's knocking," I hum, my eyes still trained on Schlatt's face.

"Tell 'em to go away." He grumbles. He places his hands over mine, determined to keep them in place. "I'm recharging."

"Pfft-" I hold in my laugh, my shoulders bobbing.

"Sir? Are you in there?"

My head perks up and I look over my shoulder to the closed door. That's Fundy's voice.

"Fundy, you can come in," I call out, almost automatically.

"I said I didn't want anyone in here," Schlatt growls, cracking open an eye to frown at me.

I ignore him and slide my hands from his face, pushing myself from his lap as Fundy peeks his head around the door.

"Mr President?" He asks cautiously, sensing the man's sour mood. "Is now a bad time?"

"Yes."

"No."

Schlatt narrows his eyes at me and I smile, resting my hands on the back of his chair.

"What is it you have to say, Fundy?" I prompt the fox, giving him a warm smile.

Fundy perks up, his tail wagging, my words encouraging him forward to the desk where he unravels the long length of fabric he'd had tucked under an arm.

My smile goes rigid as I see the very familiar pattern sewn into it.

"What do you think, Mr President? The country's new flag is finally complete!" Fundy grins, proud with his creation.

"Oh-ho! Now this is what I'm talking about!" Schlatt stands from his seat to get a better look at the black and gold flag. A single X marks one end of the fabric, encased by a curved line. A simplified imitation of what the previous flag had been.

"I'm glad you like it!"

Fundy turns to me, seeking my opinion, but instead of reapplying my smile, I turn my attention to one of the windows, folding my hands behind my back.

His tail stops wagging and I feel a pang of pain. But I don't regret my action. I may love Fundy, but I don't love what he had to do to get into the cabinet. To gain Schlatt's trust.

I said I would never forgive him for making Niki cry, and I meant it. No matter how much work he put into this flag I will not praise him, because we never needed a new flag to begin with. A flag that now no longer exists thanks to him, save for the scrap of memory I keep in my bedside drawer.

"Fundy, how soon can you put this up?" Schlatt asks eagerly, holding up one end of the flag.

"Erm- tomorrow. I can put it up tomorrow." Distracted by my reaction, Fundy turns back to his president.

"Good, then do it. Finally our nation- no, our empire is starting to come together."

I excuse myself after that, not wanting to stand around and listen to the two men discuss the flag.

As I walk and my mind drifts, my hand comes up to rub along my forehead, pushing between my fringe.

I can still feel the numbing cold of the flannel Dream had given me last night. The memory is dull, like it happened in a dream, but it's still there nonetheless.

The last thing I need is to start dreaming about that man, I sigh, dropping my hand to instead rub at my shoulder. Not that I ever dream, that is.

I stop by my room to grab my trident, preparing to make a start on my daily rounds of the empire. I could do with some fresh air after the night I had.

"Hey~" Dream gives a little wave. He's sat cross-legged on my bed.

I close the door.

Nevermind, I'll just call my trident over if I need it.

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I'm ramping up the Dream content guys! >:D

Thank you Strawberry Bagel for more fanart!