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Splayed across the couch for movie night with takeout containers littering the table and a very curious Patches sitting on top of a chair behind Sapnap, George was wishing he were anywhere else.
Which was weird, because he had waited forever to finally be able to watch movies with his best friends settled next to him, but right now all he could think about was the deep ache in his stomach that had been slowly getting worse as the movie progressed. At this point, George wasn’t even trying to pay attention to the plot, now almost entirely preoccupied now with how badly his stomach hurt. He felt almost suffocatingly warm.
George shifted around past the discomfort, sinking into the couch cushions to try and get some relief, trying not to bother Dream sitting next to him.
“George, stop moving so much,” Dream complained. Oops.
“Sorry,” George muttered.
“Shhhhh,” Sapnap shushed from where he was curled up in the recliner, staring intently at the screen. George too diverted his eyes back to the TV to see if the movie would prove as a helpful distraction. Unfortunately, he had zero idea what was happening at this point and couldn’t ask them to rewind, so he just snaked a tight arm around his midsection in hopes of it ebbing away at the pain.
George’s stomach groaned loudly, audible even over the movie soundtrack, and George flushed red and sunk further into the couch.
“Dude,” Sapnap laughed. “Was that your stomach?”
“Shut up,” George responded, trying to keep his voice light but nearly missing the mark. Nothing against Sapnap, he just really didn’t feel like talking. Not only did it hurt, but he was getting increasingly nauseous the longer he sat here and he was afraid that opening his mouth too much would bring on the exact thing he was desperately trying to avoid.
The next few minutes passed and George felt himself getting progressively hotter, and his discomfort levels were rising. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to sit here, but he felt awkward leaving in the middle of their second ever “irl” movie night.
He grimaced as his stomach made another angry noise. He tried to be inconspicuous about casually hugging his other arm around his stomach to try and help manage the ache but, naturally, Dream noticed.
“Are you okay, George?” George ducked his head to the side as he felt both Sapnap and Dream’s eyes on him. The sudden attention was a little overwhelming, he was just planning on going to bed when he could without bothering either of them. It was just a stomach ache, after all.
“I think I ate too much,” he finally admitted sheepishly. That’s what he was hoping it was, anyways. He wasn’t ready to accept that the way his stomach was turning felt an awful lot like food poisoning.
Dream nodded sympathetically. “We have some Tum’s and stuff in the cabinet above the bathroom sink if you want to grab a couple, it might help.”
George nodded, pushing himself up from the couch. His head spun sickeningly when he stood up, but the spots quickly faded from his vision and he set down the hall to find something to soothe his aching stomach.
***********
Dream had known George long enough to recognize how off his best friend had been all night. He had been really fidgety, which was unlike George, and quiet, which was admittedly a little more like George, but still out of character because typically during movies he wouldn’t stop giggling about something or another.
Dream sent George on a hunt to find some medicine 10 minutes ago, and he still wasn’t back. Mild concern was growing in his chest, he wondered if George was feeling bad enough that he had just gone to bed without telling them.
“Do you think he’s okay?” Dream finally asked after minutes of mulling it over. Sapnap rolled his eyes.
“You’re so clingy, dude. His stomach hurts, he’s not dying. He’s probably just taking a shit or something, stop looking like a worried puppy.”
“Oh, come on. I’m not clingy.”
“Mmhm.”
“I’m not!”
“Sure.” Sapnap stood up expectantly. “Now shove over, this chair is uncomfortable.”
“Hey—“
Before Dream had a chance to move, Sapnap threw himself onto the couch, crashing into Dream and knocking the wind out of him.
“Sapnap,” Dream wheezed through laughter. “Get your ass off me, dumbass.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“I-“
A harsh retch came from down the hall and cut him off. Dream and Sapnap shared an alarm look.
“I got it,” Dream muttered, pushing Sapnap off him and rushing to his feet. “Can you be ready with, like, ginger ale or something?”
He heard Sapnap make a noise of affirmation as he headed to the half bath down the hall.
“George?” Dream said gently, knocking on the door. “Can I come in?”
The only response was George coughing hard and losing more of his dinner so Dream made the executive decision to push open the thankfully unlocked door.
The sight was pitiful. George was crumpled over the toilet, his dark hair plastered across his forehead and his face pale and tear-streaked. Dream was crouched by his side in an instant, wasting no time in rubbing a comforting hand in circles on his back and sweeping his sweaty bangs away from his eyes with the other.
“Yikes, George. What happened?” he murmured.
“I feel si-ck,” George choked through another gag, gritting his teeth and bracing himself over the bowl. Dream cringed.
“I’ll bet.”
George’s entire body was trembling underneath his hand as he heaved again and Dream felt a pull of sympathy in his chest.
“Have you felt bad all day?” he asked once George had leaned back.
George shook his head. “Stomach started hurting during the movie.” Dream frowned, reaching a hand out to his forehead to feel his temperature. His skin was clammy, and maybe a little warm, but it didn’t really seem like he had a fever.
Warm or not, George slumped into his touch, his eyes briefly fluttering shut and Dream gently traced his thumb lightly over his cheek. Then George tensed and pulled away which served to be the only warning Dream had before the brunet was once again dry heaving harshly into the bowl and Dream resumed rubbing his back and murmuring quiet words of comfort.
Once he resurfaced, he grabbed some toilet paper to wipe his mouth before reaching out a weak hand to flush haphazardly. Looking exhausted, he slumped back against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging himself. Dream shuffled over so he was next to him.
“I don’t think you have the flu, you don’t really have a fever. Do you think you ate something bad?”
George cracked his eyes open a bit and looked up at him blearily.
“I’ve eaten the same as you guys since I got here.” Dream’s eyebrows furrowed.
“We’ll keep an eye on that. Do you want to go lie down, are you done?”
George just shook his head again, leaning into Dream’s side as another shudder wracked his figure.
“’m still really nauseous. Don’t wanna make a mess.”
Dream made a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat and started tracing patterns with light fingertips up and down George’s arm, unsure of what else to do.
A few minutes passed and Dream was pretty sure George was falling asleep until Sapnap appeared in the doorway holding a water bottle and a glass of ginger ale.
“Aw, Gogy. You look like shit,” he greeted.
George shifted, sitting up a little so he could glare. He mumbled something that sounded very similar to a mild , and Sapnap put his palms up in a surrender gesture, chuckling.
“I come bearing gifts, though. I was told to bring ginger ale,” he said, hovering by the counter. “And also water, because I figured that would be good.”
George gave Dream an unimpressed look.
“I’ll just throw it back up,” George muttered.
“Better than throwing up nothing,” Dream pointed out. He stared at George in a way that let him know he didn’t really have a choice; with the amount he had been throwing up the last thing any of them needed was for him to get dehydrated and end up in a hospital during their first week together.
Sighing, George reached a hand out to take the water. Sapnap left the ginger ale on the counter and slipped out with instructions to shout if they needed him, not intent on cramping the already small halfbath anymore than they needed to.
George curled into Dream’s side against the wall as he took a few small sips, making a quiet noise of discomfort as it settled uneasily in his stomach. A couple minutes passed and he was pulling away from Dream and sitting up stiffly with his mouth pressed in a thin line.
“You gonna puke again?” Dream asked wearily.
George didn’t say anything, fixing his eyes on the wall in front of him and Dream knew he was doing that thing of if you don’t move, you won’t throw up.
It didn’t seem to be working based on how hard George was swallowing.
He was inevitably right, and thirty seconds later George had leaned back over the bowl and was spitting excess saliva as his throat tightened.
“I hate this,” he choked out miserably. Dream pushed George’s dark hair away from his face for him.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Dream murmured in response. “It’ll be over soon.”
Dream could only rub his back as he coughed up water and bile into the bowl. There were tears running down his face as he retched, and Dream realized with a start that some of them were real tears.
When he finished, his entire body was trembling and his face was drained of almost any ounce of colour save for a green tint to his skin beneath the sheen of sweat. Dream kept a supporting hand on his back but handed him the water bottle.
“Rinse,” he instructed.
George complied, sniffling, falling back into Dream’s side when he was done. He looked exhausted and very, very sick. When George shivered against him, he frowned.
“Are you cold?”
George hesitated before nodding slowly and Dream mentally kicked himself. Of course he was cold, he’d been on the bathroom floor for over half an hour in a sweat-soaked tshirt. Without thinking, Dream tugged off his hoodie and held it out to George. George stared in surprise.
“What-”
“Put it on, idiot, you’re cold,” Dream told him, ignoring the heat creeping to his own face as he processed what he had just done. Luckily, George looked too tired to care, and didn’t seem to notice how red Dream got when he clumsily slipped off his shirt in favour of the warm fabric.
The sweater was massive on him, the sleeves covering his hands and the hem bunching up by his legs. He was totally engulfed by it.
Dream cleared his throat and forced himself to stop staring. “Do you feel ready to move now? Laying down might help you feel less nauseous,” Dream suggested. George shook his head.
“I don’t wanna make a mess,” he repeated.
“We’ll get you a bucket, you can’t be comfortable-”
But George only shook his head again, intent on not making his friends do any more work than they were already doing for him. He was embarrassed enough as it is, he didn’t want either of them to have to clean up after him.
Dream sighed and moved over to make room so George could lay down on him, guiding his head to lay above his knees.
“If we’re gonna stay in here for a bit then you should still try to get some rest.”
“You don’t have to stay,” George said up to him, past half-lidded eyes. It was oddly domestic, and even though George was sick and miserable right now and the floor was cold and hard, he found that he didn’t mind sitting with him all that much.
“George, in the nicest way possible, I don’t think I could safely leave you in here alone without being afraid you’re going to accidentally brain yourself on the sink.”
George giggled quietly, but Dream didn’t miss the look of relief that crossed his face.
It wasn’t the most comfortable, sitting tucked between the bath and the wall, but it wasn’t the worst place to be in the world and Dream found he was content as he carded his hands through his friend’s dark hair and slowly, George’s eyes slipped closed.
********
Dream didn’t know how long he had been zoning out on his phone for until he was startled back by Sapnap sliding into the room.
He opened his mouth to talk, but Dream quickly put a finger up to his lips and tilted his head towards George who was still passed out in his lap.
Sapnap nodded before speaking in a low tone, “How is he?”
He glanced down at his phone as it lit up with a message notification.
Dream grimaced. “Not great. He hasn’t thrown up in like,” Dream checked the time on his own phone. “An hour-ish, though, so that’s good.”
“He’s really pale,” Sapnap commented.
“I know, I’m trying to keep him hydrated but he’s not really keeping anything down. I just don’t understand why he’s so sick,” Dream responded quietly, shifting to take some of the pressure off his back but careful not to wake the sleeping brunet on his lap. “Like, should we be checking on his appendix or something? It doesn't seem like the flu, and we all ate the same stuff and neither of us are sick.”
Sapnap rapidly typed something out before looking up again.
“Karl says it might be the adjustment to American food, which makes sense. He’s been here, what, three days? Four? And this is the first time we’ve gotten take out. The change in quality or whatever might’ve made him sick.”
Dream nodded in understanding. “That makes sense, actually. Did he give any suggestions on how to help?”
“Yeah, he said it’s basically food poisoning so to just keep him hydrated and try to get him to keep down food. And to sleep,” Sapnap looked down to where George was curled up on the floor. “Preferably in a bed.”
“Getting him off the bathroom floor would probably help,” Dream agreed. He traced his thumb over George’s hairline. “I feel kinda bad waking him up, though. He looks so peaceful like this.”
Sapnap made a face. “Okay, lover boy.”
Dream glared at him. “Shut up.”
Sapnap chuckled lowly. “It might be good to wake him up, though. This can’t be good for either of your backs.”
He was right, Dream’s lower back was in knots by now from being slouched against the wall for so long.
“George,” he whispered, gently rubbing his arm. “Wake up.”
A mess of incoherent mumbles that followed had both Sapnap and Dream suppressing laughter, but Dream tried again.
“It’s time to wake up, Georgie.”
“No,” George slurred, foggy eyes cracking open just a little. “Tired.”
“I know. But you’ll need to get some actual sleep in a bed to feel better, not just dozing on the bathroom floor.”
George blinked at him, looking more awake now, but he still didn’t move. Dream tugged gently on his sleeve.
“C’mon, idiot. Your bed will be way more comfortable.”
George worried at his lip with his teeth, and Dream frowned.
“Are you still worried about making a mess? Because at this point I don’t think there’s anything left to throw up. And you’ll probably feel much better in a bed regardless.”
“No I just…” he trailed off, turning his head and muttering something unintelligible into his stomach.
“I can’t hear you, George.” He felt George’s chest heave with a shuddery breath.
“I don’t wanna be alone,” he finally muttered, barely loud enough for him to hear.
“George…” Without thinking, he tangled his hand back into George's hair, lightly rubbing his scalp until he felt him relax a little.
“We’ll stay with you on the couch, then. Pick a new movie, get comfortable, relax.” He looked up to Sapnap for affirmation.
“Oh! Yeah, I’m down for another movie.”
George nodded, but he looked overwhelmed. He was still trembling, and three people crammed into the small bathroom probably wasn’t helping.
“Sapnap, do you think you can get rid of the food and stuff in the living room? And get another movie set up?” Dream asked. It was kind of just to give George a moment to collect himself, but he was glad he thought of it. He wouldn’t be surprised if George puked again at the sight of the greasy takeout containers that made him sick in the first place.
“Yeah, of course.”
And a bucket, he mouthed before Sapnap turned, and he nodded in understanding before ducking out.
Dream was going to ask if George wanted to try standing up when he heard a quiet sniff and changed his approach. He nudged George’s shoulder.
“You holding up okay, Georgie?”
“I feel bad for ruining our movie night,” George admitted, lifting his head. He looked a little more teary eyed than Dream had admittedly expected.
“Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t ruin anything, George.”
“I know I just-” his breath hitched. “Shit, sorry. I’m not actually, like, crying. I’m just really tired and I still feel awful and...and—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dream soothed easily. “You’re sick, you’re allowed to be upset.”
George shook his head miserably. “I haven’t even been here for a week and I’m already causing problems.”
“It’s not your fault you're sick,” Dream insisted. “We think the wonders of American take out are to blame. Your system probably isn’t used to the difference between British and American food and freaked out.”
“Oh. That’s-that’s annoying.” Dream lifted his thumb to brush a couple stray tears off from his pale skin.
“Yeah. It’s just shit luck, honestly. And me and Sapnap don’t mind you being sick, we just want you to feel better.”
George nodded, but he squeezed his eyes shut as more tears spilled forth. Dream noticed his hands were shaking.
“Fuck, sorry. Sorry. I don’t even know why I’m crying, this is so stupid.”
“Stop apologizing, idiot. It’s okay. This is okay, I promise.”
That elicited a small smile out of George, which made Dream’s heart swell with pride.
“Are you feeling up to moving to the couch? Sapnap’s probably fallen asleep by now.”
George’s laugh that followed was wobbly, but it was progress. “Yeah, ’m ready.”
Dream helped George to his feet and kept a steady arm around his waist when he swayed dangerously to one side.
“Dizzy?” Dream asked.
George hesitated before responding in a tight voice. “A bit.”
Dream’s forehead creased in concern, and he reached a palm up to his forehead yet again to check for a fever. He was a little warmer now than before. “You’re probably dehydrated, you should drink something.”
“You worry too much,” George commented, swatting his hand away.
Dream looked indignant. “I do not. To be fair, you’re shit at taking care of yourself. I worry just the right amount.”
George looked like he was going to respond, but when he opened his mouth he just yawned.
“Okay, okay, you need sleep. Come on.” Dream basically dragged George down the hall, moving at a slower pace than normal for George’s sake.
Sapnap was still in the living room when they got there, splayed across the couch and scrolling through something on his phone while a new movie was cued up and paused on the TV.
He sat up when he saw George, shifting over to make room.
“Gogy!”
George smiled tiredly back. All three of them are aware of the red rimming George’s eyes and the tear tracks left on his face, but none of them make a comment. Sapnap just hands George a glass of water as he slouches down next to him and Dream positions himself on George’s other side so he’s comfortably situated between them.
The movie started, but George is passed out before the starting credits are even through, Sapnap following suit not long after.
Dream stayed awake for a little while longer, soaking in the euphoric feeling of having both his best friends finally next to him before finally succumbing to sleep as well.