Chapter Text
Here’s the thing they don’t tell anyone. When it’s all over, the streams, the cameras, the not-quite jokes and the bitten back flirts, they find a secluded room and fall into each other. Kisses turned bites and more, until they lie there, not quite touching. Sweaty and not quite sated.
George breaches the subject one night, “Should we tell them?”
Dream turns over to watch him, the moon streaming in through the curtains sets him aglow in a faint alabaster. “Tell who?”
“I don’t know, it just feels wrong that our friends don’t know,” George says, drawing unintelligible shapes in the air above him. Dream watches his hands, slender, strong, elegant. Reaching for something it can’t quite touch. Dream has an absurd urge to sit up, take George’s hand in his own and press his lips against soft skin. He shakes his head, banishing it.
“And what the hell would we tell them? That we’ve been fucking on and off for the best part of a couple of months?”
George’s hand drops, “You don’t have to be so crude.”
“I’m serious George,” Dream says, pushing himself up onto an elbow. “We agreed when all this shit started. We’re not involving anyone else. You’re my best friend and sometimes we fuck. And it’s great, it’s incredible but our personal lives are personal for a reason.”
“I get it,” George snaps, pushing himself up against the headboard. “It just feels like such a big secret to keep from even our friends. For fuck’s sake not even Sapnap knows-“
“He doesn’t want to know about the ins and outs of our sex lives, trust me.”
“Let me finish,” George says, raising a hand. “I know we’re not an item and it’s just fun blah blah blah but people will notice.”
“I don’t think anyone else has the right to know,” Dream says, meeting George’s eyes.
George sighs, his gaze falling away and Dream can’t stand that look on his face so he leans in, George pliant and willing, a happy sigh rising from his lips as Dream pulls away and stays close, feeling George’s breath on his lips.
The rest of the world doesn’t get to have this, he thinks.
-.-.
Here’s the thing, they’re straight.
Or at least Dream is. He’s never quite summoned the courage to ask George and George’s replies to donations asking about his sexuality always seem half-hearted at best. But Dream has only ever wanted women, been with women, loved women.
At least that was, until George.
Some days he’s not even sure how much he wants George in that way. But a body is a body and the way that he and George can read each other is something so incredibly intense that it sets him alight. They’ve spent years on teamspeak and enough months living together to know each other’s cues inside out. Dream knows that George’s voice drops a semitone when he’s craving contact and most times, Dream is very happy to oblige. Likewise, George can always seem to pick up on whatever Dream needs, whenever he’s frustrated, tired or otherwise. Most times it means sex, but occasionally George will just usher him into one of their rooms and they’ll just lie there, pressed together from shoulder to knee, just talking quietly about everything and nothing.
It’s a strange arrangement, Dream’s not stupid enough to deny that it is. But it’s one that works perfectly. He holds their moments together close to his chest, guards them with such ferocity that he knows it confuses George. But it’s so uniquely theirs, and it’s perfect the way it is, he doesn’t need anyone else’s input.
He should’ve known it couldn’t have stayed that way forever.
.-.-.-.
Dream is streaming when George knocks. He laughs and asks the stream, “George is at the door, should I let him in?”
The chat explodes in quite a predictable fashion. He rolls his eyes at the messages, glad he doesn’t do facecam. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, removing his headphones and standing.
When he opens the door George is looking down at his phone, biting his lip. Even though George is obviously worried about something, Dream still feels a tug deep in his abdomen.
“Sorry are you still streaming?” George asks, looking past Dream at the monitors.
“Yeah I am, wanna come and say hi?”
“Sure why not,” George says, shrugging and pocketing his phone, pushing his way past Dream.
“You want to tell me something?” Dream asks, following George into the room.
George looks back and puts a finger to his lips. Dream knows what he means easily enough. After.
“Hey streamchat,” George says, collapsing into Dream’s chair, to which Dream reacts by hitting him on the shoulder.
“Get out of my chair!”
“Nope,” George says, leaning back. “I’m comfy here.”
“I hate you,” Dream says, going to the door to fetch a chair from the kitchen.
“No you don’t,” George scoffs, turning his attention to the donations onscreen.
No, Dream thinks, as he runs to the kitchen, the faint laughter of George causing complete havoc drifting back down the hall, I don’t.
.-.-.-.
It’s only after they’ve finished the stream and are standing at the kitchen counter with their Chinese takeaway that Dream remembers why George had originally come to his door.
“You wanted to tell me something?” Dream says, passing George the chow mien.
George nods, taking it from him. “Yeah I was texting Wilbur earlier. He was thinking of organising a massive get-together of everyone who’s ever streamed on the Dream SMP. He told me to ask you what you thought.”
“That’s…wow,” Dream says, grabbing a fork. He sees George roll his eyes and pick up a pair of disposable chopsticks instead. “That’s a lot of people.”
“Not necessarily,” George says, “it would only ever be people that we’ve already talked to before. And he’s unlikely to hold it anywhere other than the UK, I’m sure my mum would be happy to see me–she’ll definitely put us both up for a night if we ask.”
Dream lifts a forkful to his mouth, trying to buy himself time to process it.
“What wrong?” George asks.
Dream takes another second to collect his thoughts before saying, “If I say it’s people knowing what I look like-“
“For fuck’s sake Dream no one’s going to take a photo of you and post it to twitter,” George says, reaching across for a spring roll. “Most of them are our friends.”
“I know and I do trust them but people are careless,” Dream argues, “all it takes is for me to be in the background of someone’s picture and-“
“Everyone else would tear them to shreds before the photo’s been up longer than five minutes,” George says calmly. “Besides we’ll just ask everyone to double check any photos before they post them. Stop stressing.”
Dream knows that George is right, yet he can’t quite shake the dread, “I just don’t think my personal life is the world’s business.”
George snorts, “Yeah, we’ve had that conversation,” he mumbles under his breath and Dream feels the atmosphere go sour.
He looks down, at the counter. He can’t shake the feeling he’s being unfair but on the other hand he knows that what him and George do behind closed doors doesn’t have the right to be anyone else’s business.
“George-“
“No,” George says, shaking his head. “Look, forget it I’ve just been coding all day. I’m a bit tired that’s all.”
Dream watches George put the last bunch of noodles in his mouth before reaching across the counter, plucking the chopsticks out of George’s hands and taking his wrist.
“I can make you feel better if you want,” Dream murmurs, dragging his thumb over George’s pulse point.
He hears the hitch in George’s breath and it’s good enough for him. He drops George’s wrist, coming round George’s side of the counter to steal George’s breath from his lips.
George’s enthusiasm is immediate, he bumps himself up onto the counter, so that their faces are level and Dream steps in, enticed by George’s legs wrapping around his waist.
They exchange increasingly more bruising kisses until Dream is forced to pull away, out of breath and panting. He feels George rest his mouth just on his hairline and laugh, the vibrations sending insidious light under his skin.
“Let’s get a room,” Dream says.
“You don’t see me complaining,” George replies, pushing Dream back and hopping down off the counter. He takes Dream’s hand and pulls him towards his room.
Later, when George has fallen asleep beside him, Dream opens discord and sends one quick message to Wilbur.
george told me - i think it’s a great idea! i can’t wait : )
Dream locks his phone and lets it fall on his chest, he looks over to George, his breath rising and falling in quiet exhales and sighs. He could just fall asleep here. They don’t do it often but sometimes they end up waking up in the same bed when they’re too lazy to move after sex.
Dream shakes his head. He really wants a shower and besides he’s not really tired, not yet. He has a couple more hours of work left in him. He stretches, careful not to wake George and untangles himself from the sheets, making sure George is fully covered and wrapped up before he crosses to the door and opens it as quietly as he can. He stands in the doorway for a second longer, watching George sleep before he steps through and closes it with a quiet snick.
.-.-.-.
A discord group is created and a date fixed. Wilbur, unfortunately, chose not to go for the UK, but rather a place near LA. Dream isn’t happy but there’s nothing they can do about it and it does objectively make more sense to have an international meet-up near one of the biggest international airports in the world.
They’re planning to have five days in total, coinciding with the week before VidCon and an extra three days for those staying for the convention. Neither Dream nor George are particularly fussed about going. Dream because his face still isn’t public and he knows that George isn’t the biggest fan of the idea of going up onstage in front of a crowd.
But first, Sapnap is flying out to stay with them for two nights before they all fly on to LA together. Dream spends the whole ride to the airport with his stomach tied up in knots. He knows it’s ridiculous, that he’s known Sapnap for almost half his life but somehow today feels different. He’s on edge and almost ends up in several accidents from not paying attention on the way there.
“What’s wrong with you today?” George asks from the passenger seat as Dream whizzes through the second red light of the day.
Dream’s not quite sure, in fact he’s not sure he’s at all capable of talking to George about it at all. He sees George look over, face of concern and suddenly it clicks.
What if Sapnap can tell?
He wouldn’t even know what he would do if Sapnap found out about him and George. He would want to deny it, but he knows he’s a shit liar. Even the thought of it makes his hands tighten on the steering wheel as he tries to dampen down the rising panic within him.
“Seriously Dream,” George says, as he swerves to avoid a car coming out of a parking lot. “What the hell is up.”
“I’m fine,” Dream says, as he indicates to turn into the airport. “Just didn’t sleep well that’s all. Can you call Sapnap and tell him we’ll meet him in the pick-up lane? I’m not sure I wanna pay for parking.”
“Okay yeah good idea,” George says, picking up his phone.
As they sit in the queue for the pick-up lane Dream zones out, listen to George give directions over the phone.
“We’re in Dream’s silver Tesla–what do you mean which silver Tesla the same one that he had the last time we saw you? No you shut up.”
They pull up to the front of the airport and spot Sapnap, aviator shades on and standing with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He visibly brightens when he sees them, strolling over. Dream keeps the car running as George jumps out.
“Throw your bag in the boot, Snapmap we gotta keep moving,” George says, holding a hand out.
“The boot,” Sapnap says in a frankly shit impression of a British accent, giving George his bag. “George is going to put my bag in the boot.”
“Good to see you too,” George says, going round the back and opening the trunk of the car.
Sapnap slips into the recently vacated front seat and Dream leans over the gearstick to hug him.
“How have you been dude?” Sapnap asks, once they’d done the mandatory bro hug back slaps. “What’s new with you?"
Dream’s mind, the traitor that it is, immediately fills with images of him and George in incredibly compromising positions. He hides his discomfort behind a slight cough. “Nothing much. You know all of it anyway.” he lies.
Before Sapnap can reply they’re interrupted by a banging on the car door “Hey! Where the fuck do you think you’re sitting?”
“Dream there’s a lunatic outside,” Sapnap says, clutching onto Dream’s arm in mock fear.
“Get out of my seat,” George says, looming over them.
“George get in the car we gotta go if we don’t want to pay,” Dream says.
“George stop being such a sore loser,” Sapnap laughs.
“You fucking stole my seat!” George cries, climbing into the back and slamming the door.
“I’m the guest dude, everyone knows the guest rides shotgun,” Sapnap replies.
“Can’t believe I have to deal with this for a week,” Dream murmurs, under his breath as he pulls onto the highway.
“Shut up Dream,” both George and Sapnap say in unison.
.-.-.-.
Everything’s fine until they get home. Dream opens the door and bumps into George, who clambering out the back on his side. George catches him on his hips, right over where they both know a fading bruise aches.
“Careful,” George says, but his eyes twinkle. He squeezes once, hard, ripping a hiss from Dream’s lips.
“Sadist,” Dream murmurs.
George raises an eyebrow. Dream can see the fire being stoked to life in his eyes. “Masochist,” he breathes and Dream can’t help his eyes falling to stare at George’s lips.
“Guys can we get dinner I’m starving?” Sapnap calls from behind the trunk and that’s when Dream realises that George’s hand is still resting on his goddamn hip.
He pushes George away. “Once George gets out of my way we can think of what to eat,” he says loudly.
George looks at him for a moment longer, the fire of before morphing into something inscrutable behind his pupils. He shrugs, turning to Sapnap, “We could get takeaway?”
Sapnap nods, seemingly oblivious to what just happened.
Dream takes a deep breath. He can do this.
.-.-.-.
Dream can’t do this.
It’s so much worse when they’re all indoors. Sapnap throws himself across the couch unceremoniously, complaining about everything from the heat outside (even though Dream knows its hotter in Texas than Florida) to the chill of the AC indoors (which again, Dream suspects is actually more intense in Texas). Dream stands by the counter, gaze deliberately averted from George sat opposite him, trying to forget the feeling of his fingers on his hip just moments ago. It’s hard to, especially when he knows that there’s a bruise just below the hem of George’s t-shirt that matches the exact shape of Dream’s mouth.
George isn’t even doing anything, that’s the worst part. He’s sitting on the counter, scrolling through his phone, calling out suggestions for food. Dream’s grip on the back of the chair tightens, as he desperately tries to think of anything but the multitude of times George has turned to putty beneath his hands on that very same counter.
“-Dream,” a call from George brings him back into reality, “anything you fancy?”. He looks up, meets George’s eyes for a second that stretches into a long and terrible eternity of pure want before tearing his eyes away.
“Whatever you guys decide on is fine by me,” he says, forcing himself to loosen the death grip he has on the back of the chair. “Everything and anything goes.”
Dream lies awake that night half expecting to hear a knock. When it reaches 3 in the morning he throws his cover off and slips out of his room, knocking on George’s door.
There’s a yawn and a slow shuffle on the other side of the door before it creaks open, “Dream,” George says, slow and confused, “What–?”
Dream doesn’t let him finish before he steps in, closing the door behind him then backing George up against it.
George’s half-awake whine is almost sub-vocal as Dream captures his sleep-warm lips with his own. “This is definitely a dream,” George whispers as they break away for air.
“Then I’ll wake you up,” Dream promises, hoisting George up and carrying him over to the bed.
.-.-.-.
The next morning, Dream leaves George snoring softly in the bed and sneaks out. He closes the door as quietly as he can before turning around and meeting Sapnap’s eyes
“Shit,” the word slips out of Dream’s mouth before he can stop it.
He sees Sapnap raise an eyebrow so Dream fumbles for an excuse. “Sorry you scared me.”
Sapnap looks between him and George’s door, then him and George’s door and Dream’s brain is just a white noise of pure panic as he tries to find some form of justification.
The silence stretches out, five seconds too long before Sapnap speaks, “Dream,” he says. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
Yes, Dream thinks, the secret pushing at his ribcage, begging to be set free just behind his teeth. He bites down on it and forces out a laugh instead. “What? I just went to steal my hoodie back from George, he always takes it and hides it to be annoying.” It’s a shit excuse. Dream knows that, but he’s also aware that it’s far easier than the truth.
Sapnap seems to buy it at least, rolling his eyes. “Every day I wake up and thank god I don’t live with him,” he says melodramatically, placing a hand over his heart.
Dream snorts, pushing past him. “Coffee?” he asks.
“Yeah please,” Sapnap replies, following Dream into the kitchen.
Dream gets himself a glass of water and puts the coffee machine on for Sapnap. It’s loud, and he knows that the smell of it will draw George out from his room in a little while.
“So what do you wanna do with your day here?” Dream asks, turning to give the mug of coffee to Sapnap.
“Honestly,” there’s a pause while Sapnap takes a sip of his coffee, “I could just hang around. We’re gonna be so busy the next few days maybe we should all take a day off.”
Dream nods, “So do you wanna stream or?”
“No dude,” Sapnap rolls his eyes. “You and George are both such workaholics. When I say a day off I don’t mean let’s do our jobs. I mean let’s just chill, enjoy each other’s company.”
“I’m a what now?” Just like Dream predicted, George walks into the kitchen and goes straight to the coffee machine. Dream keeps his eyes determinedly fixed on the glass of water on the counter in front of him, trying not to shiver as he feels George brush past behind him.
“A bad influence,” Sapnap jokes, and Dream hears the little huff he knows accompanies George’s annoyed face.
“I’m a better influence than you, Snapmap.” George says, coming to stand beside Dream.
“Call me Snapmap again and we’re gonna have issues.”
George rolls his eyes before taking a sip of coffee. “Oh my god I needed that.”
“Rough night?” Sapnap asks.
Dream chokes on his water at the phrasing, because he knows that he’s the cause of the dark circles beneath George’s eyes and it was indeed, a rough night.
“Shit Dream, try not to die on us the fans would be so disappointed,” Sapnap jokes, reaching over and catching Dream’s arm as he tries his best to cough up his lungs.
“Sorry water went down the wrong way,” he says, when he manages to gasp for air.
George thumps him on the back, “Dream?” he asks, although he feels George’s fingers curl into the back of his shirt on the last thump and he knows that George knows exactly what set him off and intends on being a little shit about it.
“Oh no I had a fine night,” George says, returning his attention to Sapnap, his thumb strokes Dream’s back once before he removes his hand, leaning forward on the counter. “Just didn’t get much sleep that’s all.”
“Oh yeah I bet Dream waking you up didn’t help,” Sapnap said.
Dream sees George’s eyes widen, taken aback, and knows he has to jump in. “I stole back my hoodie this morning when you were still sleeping.”
George looks at him and Dream resists the urge to raise his eyebrows. Come on George, he begs, his face smooth. Play along.
George blinks, a long slow one and Dream knows that he got the message. “Roommates share clothes Dream.”
Dream rolls his eyes, half with sheer relief and plays along, “I love you George,” he sings mockingly, “but that’s a line I can’t cross for you.”
Sapnap snorts and George shakes his head. “Sapnap this is the first rule of living with Dream, there are many lines he won’t cross for you,” he says, smiling.
Dream notices how it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.