Chapter Text
George stirred, blinking his heavy eyes in an attempt to regain his bearings. The first thing he noticed was the sunlight; low on the horizon, it slanted directly underneath the visor and into his chocolate eyes. He yawned, looking to his left to see his boyfriend intently focused on the road in front of them, unaware of George’s current consciousness.
George took advantage of his unnoticed state, internalizing how Dream’s hair glowed golden in the sunset, the way his emerald eyes darkened in concentration. Dream’s hand currently enveloped his own, fingers laced so tightly that his knuckles paled white.
A beat passed and George realized the car was unbearably quiet, unusual for their annual road trips. Dream always had something playing and George was used to sitting through a boring podcast or some repetitive upbeat song.
“Where’s the music?” He asked, peering up at Dream through sleepy eyelids. Dream glanced at George from the corner of his eye, brightening considerably at the sight of his significant other.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” he said with a tired smile, “you looked so peaceful.” George shifted in his seat, the sun angled in a way that blinded his vision. Dream smirked at him, eyes easily shielded by the car’s visor, as George was forced to straighten his back in an attempt to reach the shade. Annoyed by his own height, George turned back to the road, focusing on the horizon. Only then did George fully notice the way the sky had become a dark orange, signaling the end of the day.
“What time is it?” He asked incredulously, “we were supposed to switch after the first couple hours.”
Dream shrugged, “I told you. I didn’t want to wake you, besides, it hasn’t been that long.” George glanced at the clock on the dashboard, spluttering as he saw the time.
“Dream,” he groaned, “you’ve been driving for almost four hours. Pull over so we can switch.”
“No,” the blonde countered, “there’s only thirty minutes left, and I can’t pull over anyways. We’re in the middle of the freeway.”
George huffed, half out of frustration and half out of love for his boyfriend’s antics. Of course he was thankful, he did need his beauty sleep after all, but he wished Dream wasn’t so incredibly stubborn. Driving for four hours in dead silence couldn’t have been particularly entertaining. George bit his tongue in guilt, he should’ve set a timer to remind himself to drive and give Dream a break.
Dream ran a thumb over the back of George’s hand, humming lightly, his eyes still on the road. “You don’t have to be guilty,” he said, “I like watching you sleep.” George glowered at him, lower lip protruding like a spoiled child.
“Not in a weird way,” Dream amusedly corrected, “in a you-need-rest-and-I-want-to-be-the-one-to-give-it-to-you way.”
Flushing pink, George murmured a thank you, still unused to the constant affection presented to him at a moment's notice. They settled back into comfortable silence, listening to the monotonous directions read by the phone’s GPS.
“You can play music if you’d like,” Dream offered. This was a big honor, especially considering that Dream often stole the AUX cord as soon as he jumped into the car. George nodded in response, pulling open his phone and mindlessly clicking through his playlists. Selecting a collection of songs titled “Sleepy Vibes,” he leaned back, settling into his hoodie and letting the melody wash over him.
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The remaining thirty minutes went by quickly, sped up by the adorable tune of Dream’s constant humming. They pulled into the familiar parking lot, its cracked pavement littered with colorful poppies. Although seemingly rundown, the inn was carefully designed and well-kept; the perfect place for a week-long getaway.
They’d traveled here for the past three years; their first trip as an official pair. It was a source of comfort for them, a tiny inn nestled in the overgrown floridian flora. It was right on the beach and the humidity was slightly overwhelming, especially after hours in a heavily air conditioned car. The sun was almost gone, an orange sliver against the darkening sky.
Dream stepped out of the car, strode over to the passenger side and gallantly opened the door for George. It said a lot that George had waited in his seat, smugly expecting such events.
Now out of the car and laden with luggage, the two men trudged up the overgrown pathway and into the foyer.
“Welcome,” came a lilting voice, clearly ecstatic to see the duo, “I haven’t seen you two in almost a year.”
George smiled in response while Dream spoke up. “Hello Mrs. Shelby,” he said politely, “thanks for staying up for us. The drive took a little longer than expected.”
“Don’t you worry, Darling,” she beamed, “anything for my favorite couple.”
“Room 3, right?”
“Yessir, here’s the key. Have fun! Don’t forget breakfast is from 6:30 to 9:00!”
Key safely in hand, as well as a few home baked muffins, the boys followed the familiar path to their usual room. The furthest from the parking lot, their miniature cottage was right along the beach and decorated with overgrown leaves. The dark green fronds reached out and encased the building, hiding it from the nearby town.
Flopping on the bed, George sunk into the decorative pillows. Picking one that said “Life’s a Beach,” he tossed it straight into his boyfriend’s face. Dream caught it easily, years of sports coming to his aid. He dropped the pillow back onto the bed and peeked out the window. It was still dark outside, the starlight glimmered off the choppy water and the air was still. The humidity was slightly better indoors and the boys relaxed into silence.
After an hour or two of giggling at stupid tiktoks, the pair fell asleep, their phones placed on the bedside table and their bodies curled towards each other like magnets.
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The morning came quicker than expected, the sun rising over the ocean and shining through wispy curtains. Dream woke up, glancing briefly at his snoring boyfriend, and grabbed his toothbrush from their pile of luggage. He had finished taking a shower and brushing his teeth by the time George was blinking blearily at the sun.
“Disgusting,” the brit choked out, dramatically flopping back into his pillow; “I hate the sun.”
Dream laughed, used to George’s over dramatic tendencies, “Get up, breakfast ends in an hour.” George groaned again before retreating back into his hoodie. “Goggyyy,” Dream whined, emphasizing the rarely used pet name. The brunette glared up at his boyfriend and stuck out his tongue in the most childish way possible.
Suddenly launching himself out of bed, George sprinted out the door yelling “Last one there’s a rotten egg!”
Dream immediately raced after him, disregarding the fact that both were in their pajamas and George hadn’t even brushed his teeth. He arrived at the main lobby after George, a rare occurrence that the brunette took full advantage of.
“I thought you were a speedrunner, Dream,” George smirked, infusing the name with sarcasm, “that wasn’t very speedy of you.”
“Speedy?” Dream scoffed, “you really just said speedy and tried to act normal.”
George just grinned cheekily and turned towards the tables laden with fresh baked goods and instant coffee. One of the pros of coming to such a small-scale inn was the food. Mrs. Shelby, the owner, put her heart and soul into the place. She was every visitor’s grandmother and was always cooking up a storm.
Sitting at their usual table by the window, the pair tucked into the warm pastries.
“So what’s the plan for today?” Dream asked, his mouth full of blueberry muffin.
“I’m not sure,” George responded. He was carefully picking the almonds from his croissant, oblivious to his boyfriend’s amusement.
Dream began checking ideas off of his fingers; “We can go to the beach, go on a hike, go surfing…” He trailed off, his voice fading as he watched the brunette remove the last of the almonds. George was grinning victoriously, boastfully shoving his now plain croissant into Dream’s face.
“Look at it,” he said, “it’s glorious.” Dream just smirked and leaned forward, taking a large bite from said pastry.
“Dream!” George cried dramatically, “you absolute imbecile. That was half of my croissant!” Dream rolled his eyes, coming to the conclusion that his boyfriend was an absolute idiot. George continued on, a fake tear now rolling down his cheek, “I can’t believe you would do such a thing. It took me ages.”
Dream sighed in amused exasperation. Even though he George was only joking, he still felt a twinge of guilt. The fact that George could cry on command was so incredibly unfair. “Here,” Dream said, holding out the rest of his muffin as a peace offering, “you can have this.”
“I was just kidding,” George laughed, waving away the pastry and taking a bite from his own croissant. The tear was still glittering below his eye, right above his cheekbone. Dream reached across the table and swiped it away with his thumb, lovingly tracing his finger down the side of George’s face. George leaned into the touch like a cat, purring slightly.
“But seriously,” Dream emphasized, “we actually have to pick something to do today. We can’t stay inside all day long.”
George pouted slightly, his cheeks still flushed pink, “we do that everyday and it works perfectly fine. Chat loves us.”
“I know that, but the whole point of taking a ‘break’ is to actually take one.” This happened every time they took a trip. George, his pale skin screaming “I never go outside,” actually never went outside. While Dream liked to take long runs and toss around a football, George preferred the safety of the indoors. Somehow, luckily, they worked.
Huffing slightly, George finally consented; “Fine. We’ll go to the beach then.”
Oh well, he supposed. At least he would get to see Dream shirtless.