Chapter Text
George sighed slowly, one of his hands holding up Dream’s sleeping head, the other shaking the cold medication. He stopped shaking the bottle to read the doses, nodding quickly as he opened it. “30 milliliters every 4 hours, or as needed..” George poured the thirty milliliters, putting it on the table next to him as he gently shook Dream with his hand still holding his head gently. “Dream, I need you to wake up okay- I got stuff to help you feel better.” Dream groaned, rubbing his face “Fine.. fine..” The ill boy’s voice was raspy, rough, and alluring to George. He shook his head, holding out the container of cherry smelling liquid.
Dream sat up; his head felt fuzzy, other than the pain that spiked as he sat. It felt like someone had slid an ice pick past the corner of his eye and was stirring his brain with it like it was a soup. “Thank you-“ He took the liquid, his voice was rough, more so now that it was morning, and even more so that he was sick. Dream brought the red liquid to his lips, taking it back like a shot. The fake cherry taste made him gag, sticking his tongue out once he swallowed it “Water—". The brit shook his head, “You have to wait an hour for it to coat your throat Dream,” George’s voice was soft, and intoxicating to the already dizzy brain that Dream called home. George scooted closer, sitting on the edge of the couch next to him. “Can-“ Dream paused, the words heavy on his tongue. His brain was working against him, he wanted to keep his affection for the brit to himself, not letting his ill mind take over every time he was around the brown-haired boy that sat next to him. “canwesnuggle-“
George stared at him, “Wait- what? Say that again?-“ The brit wasn’t sure if he heard the blonde right, or if he was in a fever dream of his own. “canwesnuggle—” George paused, blinking “Can we snuggle?-” Dream nodded slowly, the window covered in snow as it fell suddenly more interesting than the brit next to him on the couch. “Of course—” George knew it was bad, knew it was bad to take advantage of the fact his friend was ill, and that he just agreed to lay with his straight friend who came across a fucking ocean to spend the holidays with him. Speaking of- they needed to get a tree and start wrapping gifts since it was the 4th of December.
Dream stood, waiting for the brit to lay down on his back- once the brit did, he laid his head on his stomach and shut his heavy eyes. George ran his fingers through his hair, laying on his back as their legs intertwined. Dream’s head was on George’s stomach, his arms loosely around George’s waist. “…Dream..?” Silence. “I hate your cat—” It wasn’t true, it was a test to see if Dream was fully asleep- of which he was… or seemed.
George sighed, running his fingers through his hair “I should’ve gotten firewood when I was out..” The ill boy shifted on him, nuzzling into his navel. George giggled softly, reaching for his phone that laid above him on the armchair. He was re-watching The Office for the ungodliest time, rubbing his hand in circles on the ill boy’s back as he slept peacefully. George looked to the ill boy once he finished an episode, “What would you even want for Christmas..” George ran his fingers through the blonde waves that covered his grey shirt, which was also now being covered in drool from the ill boy who slept.
Time escaped them, until George woke up to his bladder feeling uncomfortably fully, and Dream’s head resting on his stomach only made it worse; speaking of Dream- he was still hard passed out, drooling onto the brit’s shirt that covered his torso that the ill man held onto. “Dream..”
Dream woke to the sound of someone speaking, which he didn’t understand- and cold fingers sliding through his hair as the owner of the hand dragged their nails into his scalp lightly. His heavy green eyes looked up to George, who smiled softly down at the ill man who had a blanket over him now. The thin, and dainty fingers curled at the nape of his neck, retracting to run through the waves again. “I need you to sit up, I need to pee okay..?” George spoke in the soft tone you used with a little kid, or the one you used when someone was sleeping and you wanted to wake them, but gently. Dream was thankful for the soft tone, his headache still throbbing as he slowly sat up- only to see the wet spot of drool he left on the brit as they themselves sat up. “’ ‘M sorry..”
George looked up to him, “For?” The brown-haired boy starting to get up, staring at the ill boy who looked like a guilty puppy as his head fell- the blonde waves he loved so much blocking the boy’s face. “I drooled on your shirt-“ George just giggled, shaking his head “It’s fine, but wipe your cheek- you have dried drool on it.”
Dream’s head shot up quickly, despite protest in the form of a pounding headache- it felt like someone jabbed a blunt fork into his brain and was pushing it against the front of his skull. He wiped his cheek with one hand as the other lifted to his head. Dream didn’t get sick often, but when he did it was bad.
George walked away after giggling at the embarrassed boy, making his way to the bathroom to use it. He pushed the door open the bathroom that was on the first floor, the small window letting enough of the falling sunlight in that he could pee and wash his hands without being in total darkness.
Dream stared off, and out the window quietly. He felt like he was on cloud nine, maybe from snuggling with George, maybe from being high off the cold meds- whatever it was, he was living for it. He felt carefree, like he was flying along the soft clouds that covered the sunset sky. “Hey George.. have you- seen a.. sunset?— Wi-With your glasses on yet..?”
George shook his head softly as he walked out of the bathroom “Nah, why?- Is this one pretty?” George made his way to the stairs, running up them quickly. “Yeah..” Dream stared out the window, not even realizing he was left alone on the floor- or that George had even left the bathroom.
George returned with a newer pair then the one in the video; this time shaped like clout glasses- which Dream had given him. George appeared at the ill boy’s side, putting the glasses on as he sat to face the window.
George forgot how to breathe in that moment.
The sky was filled with hues of purple, reds, pinks—oranges- it was too much. The deep purple of night flowed and swirled into the red that covered Dream’s cheeks as he stared at George, smiling. The same red swirled into pink, the color of his own lips, and it swirled into orange, oh the orange was so vibrant- alive even—
Dream smiled at him, he felt like he was literally vibrating where he sat, buzzing off the look on George’s face in the warm lighting that bathed his small frame. George’s hair looked like caramel with the red overlay on the dark brown, his freckles shined like stars under the sunset. The ill boy let out a giggle, laying his head on George’s shoulder as they sat, sitting backwards on the couch to watch the sunset.
George just stared ahead, ignoring the new found weight on his shoulder as he watched the sun dip behind a building, out of his piercing gaze.