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„George! George!“
He felt himself being shaken by the shoulders. He grumbled and slapped in the direction of one of the hands holding onto him, not letting go.
“George, honey!”
He turned around and felt himself bumping against a solid wall. A... soft wall? It gave in; his nose was buried in it.
It took him a minute to start waking up properly. By then he realized that it was not a wall but Bob, his boyfriend, whom he had bumped into. Bob, who was still holding him by the shoulders and looking at him worriedly. The night light on Bob’s bedside table was turned on, but Bob’s shoulder blocked most of the bright light.
“What’s it, Bobby?” George mumbled, voice still rough from sleep. There was a remainder of... a feeling of uneasiness hovering at the back of his mind and his entire body. He tiredly snuck one arm around Bob’s waist, not certain what exactly he was feeling but glad Bob was there with him.
“You were shouting,” Bob stated flatly, but not devoid of emotion. No. He was scared, and George’s eyes widened in worry. He shook his head briefly after a moment of trying to remember what had made him shout in his dreams, not coming up with anything.
He was too tired to keep his eyes open much longer and let his eyes drift shut, shifting around in their embrace until he lay even closer to Bob’s warm chest.
“Too tired to remember,” he mumbled under his breath, already drifting off.
He felt one of Bob’s hands settling on his back, holding him close tightly, and his other hand running through his hair slowly, comfortingly. After a quiet “Sleep tight” Bob was quiet, not wanting to disturb him as he fell asleep again. George unconsciously turned around in Bob’s hold, pulling up his legs as if he was making himself small to protect him against whatever his bad dreams had been about.
Bob switched off the lamp on the bedside table and pulled the blankets up a bit higher before moving to lightly tangle his legs with George’s. His ankles met George’s cold feet and one of his hands rested below his own head. The other rested above George’s steadily beating heart.
Hearing George’s lighter breathing now compared to the heavy breaths that had scared Bob and made him jolt awake was comforting. George wasn’t prone to nightmares, Bob knew as much. If he was going to remember and want to talk about them, Bob would listen and try to help, no doubt whatsoever.
A brief movement later, a hand clasped the top of Bob’s hand, which was still resting on George’s chest. Bob felt a tiny smile tug on his lips, the scare from a short while ago almost gone. He, too, fell asleep soon after.