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In the six months that Sapnap grew accustomed to living with Dream, he came to realize that their house was exceptionally quiet.
There were some occasions, of course, where that wasn’t the case. Like when Dream’s family would come to visit and fill the space between the walls with playful jokes. Or when the two roommates found themselves shouting at their monitors, Dream pounding on his desk with enough frustration to knock over his water bottle.
Sometimes they’d even raise their voices watching TV, but that was restricted to when the teams they rooted for made stupid mistakes that cost them the game. This extended toward their Minecraft basketball plugin once stakes were involved.
Besides those instances, the ‘Dreamnap’ house was pretty quiet. But the last week alone had been a whirlwind of new experiences. Time was split into two; the only way it could be described was life before George and life after George.
As soon as their friend stepped into the house, it was no longer the same place he’d been staying in. It was like Sapnap was seeing everything for the first time, giving George the grand tour as Dream trailed behind.
That being said, it didn’t take long for the noise level to shift into unprecedented territory.
George was almost constantly hanging around, slipping into rooms like he owned them. And since it was still all new, getting to see George in his true form, it hadn’t yet reached a point of irritation or annoyance. If anything, it was encouraged by both him and Dream.
Their clinginess was newfound, since Sapnap and Dream naturally gave each other privacy, casually coming out of their rooms to eat dinner and talk about their day and future plans.
But tonight was just another one of those silent nights he’d grown to know during the time before George. It was time for him to do his own thing, getting back into the swing of work.
With a heavy sigh, sitting alone in his bedroom, he prepares himself for the alt stream he promised earlier in the day.
As soon as Skyrim launches, Sapnap presses the Go Live button, watching as the chat goes from a few offliners to an excited spam. It’s a frenzy of various greetings and emotes, which he notices while absentmindedly humming to the opening song of the game.
“Hi,” Sapnap says after a minute, unmuting his mic. “I was feeling some Skyrim tonight. Are we ready?”
He gets right into it, feeling less pressure to wait for an audience filing in on his alt. Once the first text to speech chimes in, he’s left wondering if it would’ve been better to turn off donos completely.
“Thank you for streaming Sapnap. Will Dream and George be joining?”
It takes everything inside of him to bite back the snippy comment threatening to roll off his tongue. “No, probably not,” is all he says, swiftly moving on. He braces himself for the flood of questions, knowing that just one releases the floodgates instantly. He has a sneaky feeling it’ll take awhile for things to die down.
“What’s George doing?”
“What about me? Don’t you care what I’ve been up to?” It’s mostly lighthearted, but it’s exhausting having to be the spokesperson for his friends when they’re not around. “George is probably sleeping. I don’t really know.”
Lie, lie, lie.
“Alright. Let’s get this going. Thank you for the donos, by the way.”
His chat continues with comments talking about how annoying the rest of chat is, begging to stop with cringey donos, and some still asking if Dream or George are around. He tunes it out as best as he can.
He imagines a universe where he informs chat that Dream and George are alone in the pool for the first time together doing God knows what. He wrinkles his nose, dismissing any mental images before they can materialize in his brain.
Maybe a quiet night alone isn’t so bad after all. At least he has Patches to keep him company.
—
Dream skims his hand over the surface of the pool, enjoying the inviting chill compared to the humidity draped in the air. He likes to think he’s used to it, having been in Florida all his life, but he has to admit his limits have been tested during a heat wave or two.
It’s only July, and George insists that the building temperature can’t possibly get any worse than this. It’s kind of funny, knowing he’ll be in for a rude awakening once August hits. He can save his amusement for a few weeks time once George is settled in even further, getting the full Floridian experience.
Dream leans back against the ledge, patiently waiting for the water level to rise as the hose does its job. Because he’s a wonderful host, Dream would never deny George the optimal experience for their leisurely activities. He listened to him go on about it for five minutes at least, insisting that Dream’s pool had to be better than his homemade hot tub or else he wasn’t interested. And so, the hose lay next to him, releasing a steady stream of water.
Dream would’ve filled the pool up either way. And George would’ve joined him even if the water only came up to their ankles. Not that any of that mattered.
“You can turn it off now, George.”
The pool light, along with the house lights, are enough to light up a good portion of the backyard. It’s dim, but he can see George reaching over to turn the nozzle. Dream’s chest squeezes at the sight, getting to witness his best friend work his way around miniscule tasks at his home. Their home. That was going to take some getting used to.
When George turns toward him, Dream flashes him a smile before yanking the hose out of the water and tossing it to the side. The excess water dribbles onto the concrete. Dream dips under and slicks his hair back once he reaches the surface.
“Is it cold?” George asks, delicately dipping his toe in the water on the other side. Dream follows the motion, taking in the black swim shirt, far too big to fit him properly, and the silly taco galaxy cat bathing suit, which made Dream snort once he saw them in person.
He hadn’t expected George to bring them with him, and he even planned on needing to order a pair or two. A ‘Welcome to Florida, here are some swim trunks’ gift. But here he was, wearing the monstrosity that’s just so painfully him, eyeing Dream like he’s anticipating something dangerous.
Dream slinks his way toward George, cool water gliding against his skin. George takes a few steps back immediately. “It’s not cold! I promise.”
“Somehow I don’t believe you,” George tilts his head up, nose in the air. Dream laughs. “Why not?”
“You’re a liar.”
“Why would I lie?” Dream shrugs innocently. “When have I ever lied to you, actually?”
He lets the words sink in, watching doubt creep it’s way onto George’s face before making a quick move for the ladder, hardly registering the way the air nips at his skin.
“Dream. Don’t,” George says sternly, raising his hands in front of him as a shield of defense. It’s a false sense of security and they both know it. “Something wrong?” Dream taunts.
The closer he gets, the more George backs away. “I’m serious. I’ll hate you. I won’t forgive you. Back away now.”
“Or what?” he asks. George freezes, failing to come up with a sufficient answer in time.
Dream makes a lunge toward him, quickly spinning George around. Dream wraps his arms around him tightly, causing him to shriek as his shirt gets soaked. “Dream!”
George’s arms lay flat against his side, rendering them completely useless. “It is cold,” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut, scrunching his nose. “Get off of me.”
“This can’t be worse than the ice bath challenge.” He can feel a slight shiver run through George’s body.
“That was different,” George argues, “I had a lot of time to prepare myself mentally.”
“You’ll get used to it, trust me,” Dream says, dragging them toward the edge of the deep end. George stumbles, finding himself leaning against Dream for support. “It’s refreshing.”
He won’t admit it, but Dream feels warmer snug up against George’s body than he did while swimming. They end up standing still as he calculates his next move, wondering how far he has to shove George to avoid any injuries that’ll put them in the emergency room.
“We didn’t bring any towels. You’re torturing me.”
“That’s your fault. You pretty much shoved me out the door ‘cause you were so excited.” Dream says. “Show me your rich person pool, Dream. I need to see it immediately,” he mocks, using his obnoxious fake British accent. It’s nasally and sounds nothing like the real thing, but that hasn’t stopped him before. George scoffs, struggling against his hold.
“Swim with me,” Dream breathes. It’s not a whine, more of a soft demand that causes George to still immediately. Dream smirks, taking the opportunity to lean even closer so his mouth ghosts over his best friend’s ear. “Hold your breath.”
It’s a shame he can’t physically see if he gets any rise out of him at all. What he can hear, however, is the way George inhales as deep as possible, dramatically preparing for the worst.
“Dream!” George yells, failing to keep his mouth shut as Dream sends them both plunging into the water. George squirms out of his hold right when Dream feels his body hit the water, wildly thrashing his limbs around.
Dream struggles not to laugh, narrowly inhaling a lung full of water. He loses it, wheezing as he watches George find his way to the surface, hair flat against his forehead.
“You look like a wet cat,” he manages to say, finding George’s pout as adorable as it is deadly. He wipes the mixed solution of tears and pool water away from his eyes.
“Yeah? Well you look like an idiot, so shut up,” George replies, swiping his hair to the side. Dream loves the way only part of his mouth quirks up, betraying his false anger. “I need a haircut.”
“Kinda,” he admits, staring at the way the brown locks curl behind his ears. He listened to George complain about it for weeks, begging for any advice on how to get a trim without ruining it. “The long hair looks good on you though.”
George quirks an eyebrow, like he’s waiting for Dream to continue. Instead of indulging him, he keeps his mouth shut.
Until he doesn’t.
“Maybe my mom could cut it for you. If you want.”
They’ve drifted toward the middle of the pool, with George standing on the edge of the dip to the deep end. He rises in front of Dream, gathering as much water as he can with one arm, sending a wave in a direct line to smack his face. Dream tries to shield it as best as he can, which admittedly isn’t very much.
“Ow,” he deadpans. The water flies into his eyes before he gets a chance to close them. George doesn’t let up, sending wave after wave. “Alright, alright.” Dream sputters, sending some water back where it came from. “I get it.”
The brunette stops for a moment, tapping his chin, pressing his lips together. “No.”
He goes to splash some more, but Dream is already on it, grabbing his wrist before it’s too late. “You done?”
George glances down at their point of contact, and Dream realizes how tight he’s holding him, slowly loosening his grip. “That was a forfeit,” George says. “You’re disqualified.”
Dream rolls his eyes. “Oh, am I?’ He lets go completely, sinking deeper into the water until he’s fully submerged. He sinks down to the bottom, opening his eyes.
He watches George bend his legs, forcing his body under so he’s as close to sitting as he can get. They stare at one another, flapping their arms so they stay on the bottom of the surface.
Even though George had been there for days now, it was still surreal seeing him infiltrate every aspect of his life, swimming space included.
“I have an idea,” Dream says once George can hear him. They both gasp for air, shaking water out of their hair. “Let’s see who can hold their breath the longest.”
“That’s not fair,” George says. “You’ve had plenty of practice.”
“Are you scared of losing?”
Dream swears he sees George’s eyes darken. He feels giddy, seeing these reactions in real time.
“Alright, let’s do it then.”
As anticipated, George loses miserably. Twice.
With glassy eyes and a death wish, he says, “Double or nothing.”
“What? How does that even apply to this?” Dream asks.
“If I win this last round, I'll be the sole winner of the competition. You lose the rights to the others.”
“That’s dumb. But you know what? Fine. Always double or nothing with you.”
Dream indulges, per usual. If he agrees simply because he likes the way George’s eyes sparkle with mirth when he makes up stupid rules that don’t even make any sense, then sue him.
He counts down right away. Even though his eyes are starting to burn from the chlorine, Dream can’t help but keep them open to see how his competitor is doing. He knows George is going to lose. He can see it in the way he’s struggling to stay under the water, and there’s a reason why the other man never stuck with the sport when he was younger.
To Dream’s surprise, George starts to move closer to him. Dream inches back, worried that George is going to try to sabotage the game. He goes until his back hits the wall, and the force of it is almost enough to send him to the surface. But he’s not a quitter, so he stays under as his lungs start to hurt.
George ends up right in front of him, mere inches from his face. Dream instinctively brings his hands up, holding George’s shoulders in an attempt to stop the movement. He shoots up out of the water, gasping for air, coughing.
George isn’t far behind.
“I win!” He says grinning cheekily, like he didn’t give Dream a near heart attack mere seconds ago.
“What?” Dream asks. “No, that is not true. You were about to kiss me. What was I supposed to do in that situation?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And I bet you would’ve done it too. If I hadn’t—“
“Just admit you’re a loser, Dream,” George interrupts, raising an eyebrow. It’s another challenge in itself. Dream sighs, the competitive fire in his body beginning to fizzle out. If George was willing to kiss him to win, maybe he did deserve the title after all.
“Next time I won’t play fair. Just so you know.”
“We didn’t establish the rules, Dream. I’ll establish them now. No touching.”
Dream rolls his eyes. “Brat,” he mutters under his breath.
With a heavy sigh, he relaxes into the water, losing track of time the longer he floats on his back. He finds it calming, focusing on the steady breaths and sound of the water sloshing around him. He gets the feeling that George is doing the same nearby, since he mostly leaves him alone besides a few pokes at his side. It’s a gentle (and annoying) reminder. He enjoys it very much.
A loud bang startles George, disrupting their little bubble. He scrambles to stand up straight, once again getting water in Dream’s eyes. He pays it no mind this time, taking in George’s surprised face.
“What’re these for?” George asks, making his way to the pool’s edge to rest against.
Dream is pulled to him, no longer satisfied with seeing his friend’s back when he could be viewing his reaction to the colorful bursts in the sky; an imaginary invisible string tied between them tightens. The fireworks are so close, and so low, he thinks they must be set off by the neighbors.
“It’s the Fourth of July,” Dream shrugs. George’s head snaps toward him, with his eyebrows furrowed. “No it isn’t. Not until—”
“Sunday. I know,” Dream laughs. “We get excited.” He nudges his elbow into George’s.
George shakes his head, fighting a smile. “So you guys blow stuff up whenever you get the chance, right?”
“It’s tradition! I guess you wouldn’t get it.”
“I guess not.”
They listen to their neighbors shouting as each firework seems bigger than the last.
“How is this not illegal?” George asks, still mesmerized.
For some reason, the question sends Dream into hysterics. “What? What’s so funny?”
“It is illegal,” Dream says.
“What?”
“It is illegal. Kind of. There are so many technicalities. It depends on the state.”
“So they’re illegal here?”
“Eh,” Dream says, “I think you’re allowed during holidays. I’m not sure. Nobody really cares though. You just have to avoid getting the cops called on you. Keep a safe distance from houses, stuff like that.”
They watch until the last of them burn out, leaving behind trails of smoke. As the echo fades away, Dream squints, trying to make out the stars in the sky. There isn’t too much to see. A frown forms on his lips, and he scratches his brain, wondering how he could change that.
“Looking for something?” George asks, tilting his head up to gain a similar perspective.
“We can’t do much stargazing here,” Dream says, disappointment evident in his voice. Dream senses George turning to look at him, but his eyes remain upward. “If we travel further from the city, maybe.”
“Are you suggesting a road trip, Dream?” George raises an eyebrow, egging him on. Dream considers a long drive, with George hyped up on sugary American candy next to him in the passenger's seat, cocooned in a blanket.
“We could probably manage that. A weekend trip, at least.”
His chest feels tight, thinking about the future that lies ahead of them. New memories forming, painting over old wounds just beginning to heal.
“A weekend without the internet. What would we ever do?” George asks.
They wouldn’t be able to stay in a hotel or anything yet, but they could pitch a tent. If they were smart about it, maybe they could even make a campfire and roast hot dogs and marshmallows. Dream’s mind only wanders a little bit, pointedly ignoring the way George starts humming Roadtrip to himself.
He thinks about the various forms of fanart made of the Dream Team, some of their character personas, some not, all taking place in fields. Long grass and perfect smiles tied together with a swirling sunset gradient in the background. The three of them, always.
“Could you even go that long without having your computer with you?” George asks.
“If you were there, I think so.” Dream says, “What other communication would I need?” He says it sarcastically, but there’s a thinly veiled layer of truth buried beneath it. There were plenty of people he needed to talk to on a semi-daily basis to keep things running smoothly, but he was so bad at replying to texts sometimes. George didn’t count, obviously.
“What’re you thinking?” he asks, noticing the way George’s eyebrows crease in concentration.
“Isn’t it crazy that we were separated by this gigantic ocean for ages and now we’re...here?”
“What?” Dream says, laughing.
“No ‘cause, listen. How big is this pool? I don’t even know. It doesn’t matter,” George says, blinking quickly, becoming more animated with each passing second. “But there’s only what, like a couple thousand gallons here separating us now? And it’s not even a good comparison because it’s not technically separating us at all,” George says.
Dream stares in bewilderment, totally floored by the words coming out of his mouth. “What is wrong with you? Did your head smack the water too hard earlier George?”
George groans. “I—” he pauses, shaking his head, “Nevermind. I was getting sentimental.”
Dream grins. “Do concussions make you sentimental? And make you lose your common sense?”
“You’re so funny,” George replies sarcastically.
“Let’s fry your brain a little more in the hot tub. See what happens.”
“Oh so he’s a comedian and a scientist.”
Dream is already making his way up the steps, paying him no mind.
When George gets out of the pool, his shirt clings to him in all the wrong places. He stands frozen, like one wrong move will ruin him. “This is so uncomfortable.”
Dream sighs, “Why didn’t you get the right size? Don’t you know how swim shirts work?”
George shrugs, wringing out the shirt with his hands, twisting it as tight as he can.
“Hey, no, you’re gonna stretch it out more that way,” Dream says, slapping George’s hands away as he walks by, “Idiot.”
He shuffles over to the hot tub section, enjoying the familiar sting as he puts his legs in the water. He sits on the edge, staring at the purple light. When Dream turns around, wondering what’s taking George so long, he’s met with far more skin than he was expecting. George freezes for a moment as their eyes catch, before slowly hanging his swim shirt over a chair to dry.
“You know, if you really wanted to take your shirt off, you could’ve done it a whole lot sooner.”
“You know, you could’ve taken it off for me, if you wanted to see me without one so badly,” George quips back, walking closer. Dream’s throat feels dry. He tries to convince himself that the faint blush dusting George’s cheeks is from the reflection of the light in the water as he lowers himself in the seat across the way.
They sit in silence except for the hum of the jets. Dream takes the opportunity to analyze the water dripping from George’s hair, down to his exposed shoulder. Maybe it was a good thing that he suggested a night swim rather than a day swim. He wouldn’t want George to get burnt, or even worse, sun poisoning.
“You should get some fairy lights,” George says nonchalantly. Dream’s eyes snap to reach his, but he’s relieved to find that George isn’t even looking at him. “Fairy lights?”
“Or, a strand with those bigger bulbs. I don’t know what they’re called. For nights like these.”
A common occurrence in the future, no big deal.
“Oh, yeah,” Dream agrees, scratching at the stubble forming beneath his chin, “That would look nice. I could hang them from like, the roof there.” Dream points, dumbly, in the direction George is already looking. George laughs, and it pierces through Dream like nothing else, making him smile in return. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Astute observation.”
“Racking up those IQ points.”
George nods.
“Wait, no,” Dream says, “I’m an idiot. I should’ve grabbed my phone. For a Q&A.”
“Yes!” George’s eyes brighten in recognition immediately. “Go get it.” Dream hops out, suddenly more energized.
“Dream!” Dream turns around, having already slid the door open. “Towels!” He gives him a curt nod and a thumbs up, stepping into the house.
Once he’s inside, Dream skips around, trying to avoid puddles from forming beneath his feet. He grabs the two fluffiest towels he can find, wrapping one around his waist.
The search for his phone isn’t easy. He spends a few minutes walking around the lower level of the house, trying to retrace his steps. He finds it buried beneath the couch cushions in the living room where the three of them lounged into the late afternoon. Dream recalls sneaking some pictures of George as Patches curiously sniffed his hand, already warming up to her new roommate.
He shivers as he makes his way back outside, transitioning from the cool comfort of air conditioning to high humidity.
“C’mon,” George says, making the ‘come here’ motion with his middle finger. “I need to wipe my hands.” Dream tosses the towel to him.
He sits on the edge as he considers what to tweet out. After a minute of deliberation, he comes to the conclusion that it wouldn’t hurt to tease their fans a bit.
He snaps a photo of the water, making sure it’s similar to the one he took about a year ago.
dream @dreamwastaken
chillin in a hot tub (with George) AMA
He sends it out, photo attached, preparing to sift through the excited replies. They come quickly. Some of them are confusing, asking about their sleep schedules in a way that’s phrased like they know something he doesn’t.
But then he notices one reply in particular that stands out from the rest.
sapnap @sapnapalt
Replying to: @dreamwastaken
Is your dumb q&a more important than my stream?
“Uh, George?” Dream freezes, staring at the tweet. “Did Sapnap tell you he was streaming?”
“No. Don’t think so.”
Dream cringes, lowering himself back into the hot tub. “I should’ve thought to ask.”
He turns his phone toward George, who finds the situation hilarious enough to burst into laughter. One he settles down enough, they mutually decide it’s best to ignore him for now, shifting their focus to the other questions filling in.
mia @axolotldweam
Has George been to the beach yet?
“Did you want to go to the beach soon?”
George shrugs. “I didn’t think that was something we could do.”
dream @dreamwastaken
Replying to: @axolotldweam
no not yet
“Why not?” Dream questions, hitting send on his reply. George looks at him like he’s stupid. “Dream, you’re kind of still…” He makes a vague gesture around his face. “And the beaches here are crowded right?”
Oh.
“You and Sapnap could go,” he insists. “I’m not holding you hostage here just because I can’t leave the house much.”
George rolls his eyes. “I can be patient.”
“Like you haven’t waited long enough?” Dream prompts. It’s almost a sore topic. One that they kind of narrowly avoided having blow up in both of their faces.
The closest they’d ever gotten to a real argument about it had been a long time coming. George didn’t give him the full-on silent treatment, but he was definitely distant for at least a week before Dream confronted him about it. He couldn’t pinpoint where the tension began, but figured it might’ve snapped after one of Sapnap’s offhanded jokes about their living situation due to COVID.
George had thick skin. He loved that about him. But even then, there were some jokes that were bound to hit a soft spot eventually. And Dream couldn’t blame him for being hurt, especially when he had a feeling he ached the same way.
“I’ll settle for our stargazing trip. In the middle of nowhere, so there’s less of a chance of being recognized,” George reasons, shrugging his shoulders with a smile. “We could lay around here for ages and I’d be fine. I don’t care what we do.”
“Alright,” Dream says, unconvinced but wanting to move on. “Back to the questions.”
He spends some time with short replies, answering the sillier ones. He even let’s George take his phone to answer a few, signing them with the letter G at the end.
el @404flowers
Replying to: @dreamwastaken
did this happen yet?
There’s a clip attached that captures his attention, so he clicks on it.
“Uh, are you excited to meet Dream? Do you have any specific plans for when you meet him?”
“Well we’re gonna kiss, obviously, but—”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Uh, anyway—”
“Well, we’ll find out…”
“I think that was an empty promise.” George clicks his tongue. Dream mutes the video, setting his phone down.
“Well—I mean, it wasn’t a promise exactly.”
“Sure,” George says, like he doesn’t believe him one bit.
“Were you expecting any different?”
It’s not meant to stir anything up. It’s a genuine question.
“With how much you’ve joked about kissing me? I thought you might’ve tried it already.”
“You were pretty bold earlier,” Dream points out, referring to their little game.
“Bold?” George asks, scoffing, pretending to not know what he’s talking about.
“Have you been keeping track? Each time?” Dream asks, drumming his fingers against his leg. George shakes his head, shifting his body so he’s resting his cheek on his hand. Dream turns the jets off, sick of the pounding noise competing with his voice.
“There was this compilation I saw. They did all the work for me.”
Dream can’t help but glance at his lips. He quickly shuffles closer before he thinks too hard about what he’s about to do. “You started this in the pool so you can’t blame me if you don’t like it, okay?”
“Dream?” George asks, but it’s all a ploy. At least, from what Dream can see.
George is giving him the opportunity to back away. To pretend this isn’t happening and to stop blurring the lines that they drew ages ago. George doesn’t back away. He doesn’t show any signs of not wanting Dream to inch closer until their lips meet. But Dream has to be sure of it. Once he does it, he can’t take it back and pretend there’s nothing between them anymore.
“Is this okay?”
George’s eyes flicker downward. He gives the smallest nod ever, hardly even noticeable.
“George,” Dream says, because he needs to hear it.
“Yes,” George finally says.
That’s when Dream closes the gap, shakily bringing his hand up to cup George’s cheek.
It’s not the most passionate kiss in the world. It’s built on months, maybe even years of pining and desire buried deep down, but it’s also filled with bouts of careful uncertainty. Dream is soft, softer than he’d normally be, enjoying the way George sinks further into him.
When they back away, George snatches the phone from it’s discarded location, on the ledge of the hot tub, liking the tweet with the clip. “George!” Dream yells, taking the phone back and quickly unliking it.
His insides feel fuzzy, like TV static. “You’re so stupid,” is all he says, rolling his head to the side. George giggles. Dream’s mind is still reeling, trying to catch up with what just happened.
His lips are still tingling, much like the rest of his body. His limbs are practically putty.
“I feel like a noodle,” Dream says, taking a deep breath.
“I didn’t realize I had that much of an effect on you.”
“What? No, George, we’ve been in here for way too long. It’s—it’s dangerous.” George raises his arms above his head, then lowers them back down like he’s not used to having to carry the weight around. “I do feel, like, super heavy.”
Dream shakes his head, rising from his seat. He hops out, offering his hand for George, who still sits. “Come on, time to come out.”
George gives him a look. That look. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”
George takes his hand, sitting on the ledge and swinging his legs over. Their fingers are disgustingly pruned and Dream doesn’t want to let go. George gives him a kind squeeze before releasing, and though it doesn’t leave him satisfied, it has to be enough for the time being.
He wants to ask the millions of questions that are burning inside of him. ‘What are we doing?’ is the one he thinks he might be able to get away with, rather than straight up asking ‘What are we?’
It’s on the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out all over the grass beneath his feet, but he can’t risk it.
Instead, he grabs one of their towels off the ground, throwing it on George’s head. Before George has time to react, he’s ruffling the top of his head with it, purposefully making his hair as messy as he possibly can.
“Do you only ever kiss in hot tubs?” George asks. Before Dream can react, and ask what George is going on about, he grabs the other towel and wraps it around Dream’s neck, tugging him closer until they’re kissing again. Dream’s hands find their way to George’s waist.
After the kiss, George smooths the towel down against Dream’s chest. He’s afraid he’ll find that his heart is racing beneath his fingertips.
“I uh, I don’t— know what—“ he begins, growing frustrated at his lack of being able to form coherent thoughts when George is standing dripping wet in front of him and he now knows what it’s like to have his lips on his.
“It’s okay,” George whispers. Well, he tries to whisper, but it comes out much louder than that. He kind of sucks at it.
“Is it?” Dream asks. “I don’t want to push you.”
George laughs. “Push me? Wasn’t I the one who just technically pushed you, like, into me?”
He has a point there.
“I think you’re afraid of pushing you,” George says. Dream considers it, knowing that George has always been the one he could go to for complete honesty. That was one of the things he loved about him. He was blunt, but never in a way that was mean and meant to hurt feelings. George cared in the ways some people were too scared to.
“Maybe.”
Even then, with George’s blunt nature, there were some things he was prone to escape from. One of those things being public declarations of love, only spoken when he knows there’s absolutely nothing hanging over him.
Dream thinks he might be melting. It’s still absurdly humid out, despite the sun having gone down hours ago, and he doesn’t think it’ll break anytime soon.
“If you’ve got some...stuff you need to deal with, you can tell me,” George says, lowering his chin and looking up at him with those eyes. “And I’ll stop. I won’t push you.”
“Stuff? What kind of stuff?”
“Stuff,” George repeats.
“How is this so easy for you?” Dream asks, turning the conversation around.
George’s eyes drift to the ground then back to his face. He shrugs. “You’re easy.”
Dream wants to grow exasperated at that. Because it’s a joke and a confession all wrapped into one, and he was just praising George for how blunt he could be so why did he have to go and speak in riddles sometimes?
“You’re weird. That’s what you are.”
“You don’t mean that, do you?” He teases.
“I do mean it.”
“Hmmm.”
“I like you,” Dream whispers, voice scratchy. “A lot.” George bites his lip, fighting a tiny smile.
“Can I tell you something?” Dream asks. George nods, dropping his hands.
“Give me time to shower first?”
Dream’s heart seizes. It briefly crosses his mind that maybe this is how George will run away from what they need to talk about, but he also thinks it’ll give them a chance to cool down and think rationally.
“Of course.”
---
Thirty minutes later, Dream sits on his bed, freshly changed into a clean shirt and sweatpants. When George enters, he shuts the light off, tossing himself next to Dream.
“I’m so tired,” he says, yawning.
“Too much physical exertion?”
“It was the hot tub,” George argues, “made me sleepy.”
“Awake enough to talk?” Dream asks, eyeing the famous oversized hoodie George decided to wrap himself up in for the majority of the time he’s been in Florida.
“Mhm.”
Dream pulls the blanket back and ushers George under the covers. They make themselves comfortable, turning to face one another.
“This is so much better than our Discord sleepovers,” George says, nudging his head into the pillow. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Uh, well…” Dream trails off, turning onto his back so he doesn’t have to know whether or not George is still looking at him. His ceiling is boring in comparison, but eases some of the anxiety surrounding their conversation.
“I might’ve grown too comfortable with being inside and not leaving the house,” he decides on saying, trying to choose his words carefully.
“I think any of us could’ve guessed that, Dream.”
“I know. But I saw you doing all these meetups with the other guys and it— it really opened my eyes a bit,” he admits.
“Are you trying to tell me you were jealous of everyone meeting me?”
Leave it to George to be self-centered while managing to hit the nail on the head.
“No. I mean, maybe I—okay maybe I was a little jealous. But that’s—you’re missing the point.”
Part of Dream wants to give up. He wants to roll over and give in to the night, letting George sleep off his exhaustion. But if he doesn’t get it out now, it’ll keep weighing on him, and that sounds infinitely worse than his current struggles.
“With how wrapped up we got in our work, we didn’t slow down much to consider how the pandemic was affecting us, right?” He questions, glancing at George.
“It was kind of nice seeing you branch out in that way. Getting the things you deserve for all your hard work. Reaping these...these rewards with all the friends we’ve made during this past year.”
“What does that even mean?”
Dream doesn’t even know what it means exactly. But his mouth is already running.
“I had Sapnap with me for a good amount of time during the height of the pandemic. It was nice to have him here. Really nice having plans to look forward to, like when we were figuring everything out. The logistics of him moving in,” Dream says.
“But George, it took an extra half a year for you to get to that point with us. Which sucked but there wasn’t anything I could really do. And you had your family around, obviously, but...yeah. I don’t really know what I’m saying, this is hard to explain, give me a second.”
Dream collects himself, avoiding George’s careful gaze.
“I’m thinking about a million things at once, sorry,” he says, taking a breath. Thankfully, George doesn’t say anything about the way his voice shakes.
“Don’t get me wrong, I want to see everyone. Like, so many people, George. The fans, Karl, Quackity. Everyone. I haven’t been staying inside for the hell of it, even if I did get comfortable doing it. You know that. But it was all leading up to seeing you first.”
It was always about waiting for George. The face reveal, meet and greets, all of it. He wanted to share it. To bask in these new experiences together.
“I just wanted it to be special. To be done the right way at the right time. You know that too. But this...I want your visit here, right now, to be special,” he says, making wild gestures with his hands.
“So if there’s something you really want to do, like going to the beach for example, I need you to tell me. I’ll make it happen.”
And there it is. It’s like the lightbulb goes off in George’s head. Dream can see it as George’s eyes widen, processing the sincerity behind Dream’s words.
“Dream, you’re thinking, like, so much right now,” George exhales. He laughs a bit uncomfortably. “I don’t know what to say really, other than reassure you that I’m happy.”
That makes Dream feel a little better, but there’s still guilt gnawing at his stomach.
“I don’t want to waste it,” Dream says, voice growing quiet.
Planning for the future had always been enough for him. He didn’t have anything else to fall back on. There was always hope. Hoping for something more, something better, pushing him forward to bigger things.
It’s a startling realization, coming to terms with the fact that this, right here, is the future he always dreamed of.
“I’m not on holiday, or—what do you call it? Vacation. We don’t have an expiration date. Even if I get sent back to the UK, I’ll just come right back. They can’t stop me.”
Dream sighs. “Well, they could but....”
“But what?”
“I guess you’re kind of right,” he mumbles, trying to wrap his brain around these hushed confessions that sound an awful lot like promises.
“I already decided I’m staying forever, so we won’t have any issues unless you decide to kick me out,” George replies. “These problems you’re worrying about are irrelevant.”
The thought of going back to how things were before, with long distance, is hard to fathom now that he’s gotten to experience George’s presence.
“Besides, we have a contingency plan in place.”
“We do?”
“Yes.”
“And that is?”
“Marriage, idiot. For my green card.”
“Oh, right,” Dream says.
It was always easy to be real about their situation before he got on that plane. He knew, deep down, that George couldn’t stick around forever. He just didn’t expect the thought of him leaving to hurt this much.
But for now, he has him. He has his best friend next to him, for the next few months at the very least. It’s all real enough for him to touch if he wanted to.
“You’ve been here for what, like a week? How do you know you want to stay forever?”
It bugs him, not knowing how George could know for certain when they haven’t even gotten the chance to bicker over what to eat for dinner yet.
“I just know things.”
He doesn’t know how to argue with that.
“When did you know you liked me?”
The question slips. It’s easier to talk in complete darkness under the cool breeze of the ceiling fan than it is in a bubbling hot tub. The silence he gets in return almost makes him panic, thinking maybe he overstepped somehow.
They kissed, twice, but this was where he was going to get his heart broken.
“I don’t think there was an exact moment. Not the kind you’d be looking for,” he starts. Dream sighs with pure relief. “It’s…been awhile, honestly. But with the nature of our relationship, it was easy to shove down. Play everything off as a joke like usual until you were standing in front of me.”
“Oh.”
Well now he felt like an idiot.
“Why? When did you figure it out?”
Now it’s Dream’s turn to be silent. “Dream?”
He desperately wishes he could change the topic, but it’s too late. He knows he’ll never be able to get George to move on without an answer.
“If I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh,” he says slowly, dragging the moment out for as long as possible.
“Alright, I promise.”
Dream bites his cheek. “It was the quiz,” he grumbles, cringing internally. “The friend one. When we did the podcast together.”
George breaks his promise, stifling a laugh with his hand. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am! I am. It wasn’t my best moment.” George’s laughter is contagious, which really sucks, because it causes Dream to fall victim to his own giggles.
“Was that why you were acting so weird after?” George asks.
“Obviously. I was in a state of like— complete panic.”
“You just, you left me there, in the Discord.”
“Okay, to be fair, I did say I was leaving before I did. I didn’t leave you out of nowhere.” Dream reasons, trying to justify his actions despite knowing his brain had never felt so cloudy. He was muddled with so much confusion at that point, wondering how he could’ve made such a poor choice to take an ‘Are You in Love with your Best Friend?’ quiz in front of thousands.
“How were you so oblivious? How was that the breaking point?” George asks, demanding an explanation that doesn’t exist.
“I don’t know,” Dream groans. “It didn’t even fully set in until after I left. That night, I kept going over the questions in my head. Analyzing my answers, trying to figure out why it wasn’t sitting right with me. The more I thought about it, like genuinely thought about it, I realized that thinking about kissing you has never actually grossed me out.”
“The epitome of romance. Thanks, Dream. I love being,” he starts, pulling out the finger quotations, “Not gross.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” Dream says. “The thought of kissing Sapnap? Pretty gross. Not something I’d want to partake in. So why was it so different with you? That's what I kept coming back to. It took me a few days to actually come to terms with it completely.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“And I didn’t lie as I was taking it, you know. I tried to be honest with my answers,” Dream says, feeling the need to clear his conscience of the possibility that maybe he wasn’t totally truthful with himself.
“I remember you weren’t satisfied at all with any of the options they were giving you.”
“Exactly. And like, since we’re talking about it now, I didn’t feel butterflies at all I don’t think—until I got to hug you. So, I was almost painfully truthful there. That should count for something.”
“It does count. For something,” George says half-heartedly, throwing Dream a bit of rope to hold on to.
“Thanks.” His voice comes out hollow.
“You’re welcome.”
“Am I a total idiot?” Dream asks, regretting it immediately. “Actually, don’t answer that.”
“Of course you are,” he says, like there’s no other word in the English language that could possibly be used to describe Dream.
Dream sighs. “Of course I am.”
“A bumbling idiot.”
“I get it,” Dream sats, pinching the bridge of his nose in defeat.
“But you know what they say?”
“What?” He asks.
“Slow and steady wins the race. We’re the prime example of that, so surely it was written for us.”
Dream doesn’t know if it’s because of the way he says it, or if it’s because of how cute he looks with his damp hair falling into his eyes, but he wants to kiss the stupid idiot laying in bed next to him so bad it hurts. He figures nothing is stopping him anymore, so he does. The surprise makes George smile.
“You still smell like chlorine. Didn’t you shower?”
“Couldn’t,” Dream squeaks, clearing his throat. “Woulda burned you if we went at the same time.”
“That’s nice of you. Looking out for me.”
“Shut up.”
Dream feels George’s foot brush against his calf under the covers.
“You said something that I’ve been thinking about,” George says, rubbing at his eyes. “It kind of just set in.”
“I said a bunch of things.”
“I wanted to focus on one thing,” he clarifies. “You...you know you deserve to be happy with everything you’ve built here too, right? You talked about all these things that I deserve. But what about you?”
Dream stares at him. When he doesn’t say anything, George continues.
“You’ve been extremely patient. More than I have. I know a lot of it revolved around me coming here. And it’s been overwhelming with the build-up of it all. But this is just the beginning, right? It’ll take some adjusting to this...for lack of a better term, phase of our lives— formed around the three of us living together on top of planning what comes next. But we can handle it. Like we always do.”
“We can,” Dream says, smiling softly. He almost wants to cry. “Thank you George.”
“You’ve worked hard, idiot. Let’s rest. I like resting.”
“Resting is good sometimes.”
“Right now,” George says.
When George sits up, Dream thinks he’s going to head back to his bedroom to retire for the night. He’s about to go through the seven stages of grief when he feels an arm wrapping around his torso, messy head of brown hair falling on his shoulder.
George falls asleep in a matter of minutes. It takes Dream longer to drift off, enjoying the steady sound of his breathing, syncing them together.
Their limbs are still tangled together by the time the sun rises, filling the room with golden streaks of light. Dream is relieved to find that George is still with him, drooling on his chest. They stay in bed until noon. And when Sapnap witnesses them playing with each other’s hands during breakfast, he’s kind enough to not say a word.