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A sudden loud bang of the front door slamming on its hinges manages to pull George’s attention away from another terrible episode of Come Dine With Me; so he mutes the sound and cranes his neck around, expecting to see Dream standing at the living room doorway.
But, he wasn’t there.
“Dream?” He calls out, but to no answer, so he hauls himself up from the very comfortable position he had on the sofa and makes his way to the hallway. “Love?” He tires again, peeking around the doorframe.
Standing on the front door mat in a small puddle of water from the rain dripping from his clothes, was Dream. A briefcase hangs by his side, damp papers are clutched in his other hand, and his work clothes look like they just came out of the washing machine.
He looks absolutely exhausted.
George manages to swallow down a chortle at the sight of him, wary of how irritable Dream may feel due to the fact he so obviously got caught in the pouring rain, and takes a step towards him, wearing a concerned expression. “God, Dream, what happened to you? You’re soaking wet.”
“My usual parking spot outside got taken,” he grumbles tiredly. “Had to park down the road. Didn’t have an umbrella in the car.”
“You didn’t take a coat this morning?”
“Forecast never said it would rain.”
George sighs and reaches for the briefcase, prying it from Dream’s grip and placing it underneath the coat rack. At least it was leather and waterproof. “Alright,” George says softly, “help me out here. We’re gonna get you out of these clothes and you’re gonna have a bath.”
Dream manages a small hum and a smile. “That sounds nice.”
“Let me have these,” George takes the damp lump of papers from Dream’s other hand and turns back to the living room. “I’ll go lay them out to dry on the table. Take off your shoes and head up to the bathroom, I’ll be there in a minute,” he says over his shoulder, making his way into the kitchen.
He clears up the kitchen table to free up some space for the papers before inspecting what, exactly, had gotten wet. Flicking through the first few papers, George lets out a scoff. “The kid’s unit tests, huh? Unbelievable.”
Dream will have some explaining to do when he hands back the marked versions to his Year 9 class, but George hopes that the rain hadn’t caused some of the ink to run, because then it’ll make Dream’s job to mark them a lot harder.
George peels them apart with a hiss, careful not to tear them, and then lays them down on the table to dry. Luckily, the table was big enough for all twenty-one of the tests, and George let out a relieved sigh. He then grabs Dream’s shoes from the hallway and stuffs them with newspaper, hoping that the paper would soak up most of the water in time for the morning, and makes a mental reminder to replace the paper with fresh paper in a couple of hours.
Before he trudges up the stairs to the bathroom, George grabs a tin of soup from the cupboard and places a pot on the side, so that he could come back downstairs in a bit to cook it for Dream whilst he was in the bath.
“Dream?” He knocks, leaning against the bathroom door. “I’m here, can you let me in?”
The lock clicks and the door is opened, revealing his shirtless boyfriend. George resists the urge to make an inappropriate comment— it’s not the right time— so he just resorts to giving Dream a subtle once over before walking through the door, where he is met with the sight of an empty bathtub.
He sends a look to a sheepish looking Dream. “You didn’t even run yourself a bath,” he points out, eyebrows raised. “Have you just been standing here the whole time?”
“I took my clothes off,” Dream says semi-proudly, and points to a wet pile of clothes in the corner of the bathroom.
George rolls his eyes with slight amusement. “And now you’re shivering,” he retorts. “Well done.” He grabs a fluffy dressing gown from the hook behind the bathroom door and wraps it around Dream, who doesn’t even bother putting his arms through the arm holes.
George chuckles and turns to lean over the side of the bath, reaching to run the hot water tap before testing the water to make sure it was just right. Once satisfied, he stands up and turns back to Dream, who was just hovering behind George; eyelids hardly staying open, arms awkwardly wrapping the fluffy gown tighter around his torso.
George can’t help but soften at the sight.
“C’mon, baby,” he says softly, reaching out to thread Dream’s arms through the arm holes, before gently leading him to sit on the toilet seat lid. Dream allows George to take care of him with a small smile.
“How was your day?” George asks, crouching down in front of Dream and slotting his right hand against the side of Dream’s face; rubbing his cheek with a thumb. Dream leans into George’s touch with a slow hum, and his eyelids flutter shut.
“It was good,” he mumbles, lips barely moving. George hopes that he doesn’t pass out before he gets him to bed, though it was looking fairly likely. “Stole some glue sticks from Mr. Harris. Sent a year ten kid to get like five of them,” he pauses and giggles before adding on; “I never sent them back.”
“Mr. Harris? Is that the chemistry teacher you hate?”
Dream lets out another giggle. “Yeah. He’s always sending me dirty looks ever since that faculty meeting like two months ago. I think he’s just jealous of my good looks.”
“Well,” George chuckles and drops his hand from Dream’s cheek to stand up and check the bath water. “I can vouch for that.”
George dips a hand into the water and then reaches over to shut off the hot tap, deciding that it was warm enough for Dream to climb in. He turns back to Dream and grabs his hands, pulling him up to stand.
“Are you saying I’m pretty, George?” Dream teases, leaning down to press their foreheads together, his breath fanning over George’s cheeks.
“Absolutely,” George responds, and tilts his chin up to press soft lips against Dream’s with a hum. He pulls away a moment later with a smile. “Right, let’s get you into the bath otherwise you’ll get hypothermia.”
Dream cocks his head to the side. “I think that’s a slight exaggeration.”
“Just get in the fuckin’ bath, Dream,” George laughs, reaching over Dream’s shoulders to pull the dressing gown off and drops it onto the toilet lid.
“Alright, alright,” Dream chuckles, holding his hands up. “I’m getting in.” He steps into the water with a contented sigh before fully sinking into the bathtub, leaning his head back with a delighted groan.
George chuckles and turns to grab Dream’s wet pile of clothes from the corner. “I’m gonna go make you some soup and hang these up to dry,” he announces, holding up the dripping clothes with a slight grimace. “Broccoli cheddar, yeah?”
Dream’s eyes light up. “You’re the best. C’mere,” he beckons, stretching out both hands to catch George’s face between them. George softens and leans over, letting Dream guide him down for another kiss, careful not to fall into the bathtub.
“I know I am,” George mumbles against Dream’s lips, catching them once more before standing back up and running a quick hand through Dream’s damp hair with a grin. “I’ll be back soon.”
George shuts the door behind him and wanders into their bedroom, grabbing a pair of boxers, joggers, and a top from Dream’s drawer before padding back downstairs to hang Dream’s wet clothes over the clothing rack in the utility room. Whilst there, he chucks Dream’s fresh clothes into the dryer so that he would have something warm to pull on after he got out of the bath.
On his way back into the kitchen, George checks on the drying test papers on the table and hums in satisfaction after he realises that they were drying up well enough, with very few being tainted by running ink. He also checks Dream's shoes that he stuffed with newspaper earlier, and decides to change out the paper for some fresh pieces to increase the likelihood of them being wearable the next morning.
Moving over to the kitchen countertop, he grabs the tin of broccoli cheddar soup that he got out earlier and splits it open, pouring it into the pan and then moving the pan onto the stove. He lights the stove with ease, flicks on the extractor fan, and gives the soup a slow stir to make sure the vegetables separate. Soon enough, the smell of cheddar cheese fills up the kitchen, so George leans over the sink to crack open a window; the glass immediately fogging up with steam.
He leaves the soup to simmer for a minute to grab a tray, spoon and a glass of water to take up to Dream, and he makes himself a quick chicken and mayo sandwich— it was better than eating nothing at all, at least. He’d probably be back down in the kitchen later on either way, looking for something else to eat after Dream falls asleep.
Halfway through his sandwich, George takes the soup off the heat so that it doesn’t burn, and finishes off his sandwich before pouring the liquid into a warmed bowl. Brushing the bread crumbs off the countertop, George places the bowl of soup onto the tray and sinks the hot pan into the washing up bowl for him to clean up later. He shuts off the extractor fan and closes the kitchen window before moving back into the utility room to grab Dream’s warmed clothes from the dryer, and shoves them under his armpit so that he could carry the tray and glass of water upstairs at the same time. He couldn’t be bothered to make two trips.
Once in their bedroom, George places the tray and glass on Dream’s side of the bed and then goes to knock on the bathroom door. “Dream, love? I’ve got some clothes for you.”
“Come in—” George pushes open the door and is met with a face full of steam, “—you don’t have to ask to come in, you know?” Dream says, swinging a leg out of the tub and grabbing a soft towel from the radiator to wrap around his waist.
George shrugs. “I know, it’s just rude not to.” Dream nods and continues to dry himself off. “Here you go,” George adds on, producing Dream’s clothes.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Dream yawns, taking his clothes and pressing a light kiss onto George’s forehead. “What time is it?”
“It’s like eight or something, I don’t know,” George replies, reaching over the side of the bath to drain away the water. “You came home quite late.”
Dream sluggishly pulls on the top with a hum. “M’yeah, I had to plan for some classes tomorrow and I figured it’d be more productive if I did it in my classroom.”
George raises an eyebrow. “Was it?” He teases gently, taking Dream’s towel from his hands and reaching up to rub his hair dry.
Lost under a mess of dark blonde hair and a white towel, Dream lets out a deep chuckle. “Nah. Just missed you even more. I always miss you when I stay a while after classes finish.”
A grin settles on George’s lips and he tugs the towel off of Dream’s head, causing tufts of hair to fly in all sorts of odd directions, and tilts onto his tippy-toes, brushing his nose against Dream’s. Dream closes his eyes.
“Good,” George whispers, and immediately pulls back to hang the towel back onto the radiator before adding; “Your soup is getting cold, by the way. It’s on your bedside table. Hurry up.”
As he leaves the bathroom, he hears a short laugh followed by footsteps and then the feeling of two strong arms wrapping around his waist as he’s pulled back into Dream’s chest.
“Thanks for looking after me, love,” Dream says softly, his breath tickling George’s ear, sending sparks straight to George’s chest. “I really appreciate it,” he finishes, pressing a soft kiss to George’s shoulder before moving away to grab his soup from the side of the bed.
George takes a moment to recoordinate his senses and heart before slowly moving over to the bed. Dream had just played the same game that he had, but that doesn’t mean he’d be any less affected. Sure, he knows Dream’s tricks since they’ve been together for several years now, but that doesn't mean he’s used to them. In fact, no amount of time with Dream would allow George to accommodate the way that Dream made him feel.
George would never get used to that— not that he’d want to, anyway.
Dream settles onto the bed with his tray with a sigh. “It smells great, George.”
“All I did was heat it up.”
“And? You still made it for me.”
George scoffs out a laugh and flops onto the bed, smashing his face between the pillows with a deep exhale.
They stay like that— Dream eating his soup and George snoozing— for a few minutes, both listening to the rain thunder down outside their bedroom window in a comfortable quiet, until Dream finishes his soup and places the tray back onto his bedside table.
George lifts his head when a gentle hand cards through his brown curls, and he’s met with Dream smiling down at him. He smiles back and pushes himself up to rest his head against Dream’s chest, pushing his legs underneath the duvet and letting Dream get himself comfortable before sinking back into the mattress with a soft hum. The feeling of steady fingers carding through his hair soon returns and George smiles to himself, relaxing further into Dream.
“Are you feeling better?” George asks through a yawn, his fingers dancing up and down the exposed skin on Dream’s side where his shirt had lifted up. He feels Dream shiver slightly under his touch.
“Much better,” Dream replies. “You’re the best. Have I told you that already?”
George hums and turns slightly to face Dream, his chin resting on Dream’s chest. “Yeah, but you can tell me again.”
“You’re incredible, George.”
“I know.”