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The day dragged on longer and longer, the moon hanging blindly in the sky only for a few more hours until the sun replaced it, washing oranges and reds over their world.
They stayed awake. Sapnap went to sleep only an hour ago, and so only Dream and George were left, sitting together alone.
Lights blinked intermittently from Dream’s PC where they sat on the bed. George was sprawled out on his stomach, at Dream’s feet while he leaned his back against the headboard. This was the first week since George had moved in from Britain, and it had been amazing; they’d streamed everyday and all of their fans had been excited to see their antics live, to see them interact.
Most of them weren’t even disappointed Dream decided against the face reveal. Instead, that pleasure was resigned for only George and Sapnap, and aside from a few hate comments the decision was received well.
Dream let his eyes shut dazedly from George, who was scrolling through tiktok and easily on his hundredth video, chuckling at every single one he swiped by. They’d streamed everyday, spent countless hours performing for their audience, and yet this was where Dream felt content. And Dream was willing to guess George felt the same, simply happy to be in the same space despite how tired they both were. Had the situation been any different, and had George been in Britain, they likely would have been on a sleep call right now.
But this—this was so much better. Dream couldn’t mute, Dream couldn’t hide his smile, and neither could George. So Dream didn't even bother trying to conceal when he felt George shift on the bed.
He opened his eyes to find George moving to his elbows, and then his knees, his eyes still transfixed on his phone screen. He rose and moved toward Dream, finally meeting his eye.
“Tiktok.” He says, gesturing to his phone, and Dream nodded and let George sit down beside him, scooting closer so their shoulders brushed and George could easily hold the phone for them.
His hair was soft against his neck, and Dream was pleasantly certain that this was much better than being sent tiktoks over discord, where George knew Dream would be forced to acknowledge them. Here it was real, here George was actually against him, expectantly waiting for him to react.
Dream subconsciously leaned into him, fluffy hair pressing into his jaw, George warm against him because of stubbornly drowning in a hoodie Dream lent him. The collar fell past his collarbones, and if Dream looked he’d see the expanse of the top of George’s chest. And he knew without looking that it was pale and spotless.
Not that he thought about what it looked like.
His mind drifted, and George scoffed when he realized Dream had spaced the entire three minute video, eyes distant with no traces of light behind them.
“Dream,” George tsked, annoyed, and slowly he snapped out of it, sitting up and pulling away before realizing. “Idiot.” George muttered, and Dream mumbled out an apology before George wordlessly pressed play for them again.
Dream laughed where he was supposed to, made a joke at the end. It was satisfying enough for George, and so Dream allowed himself to relax against him again as George continued to scroll.
They haven’t hugged since George dropped down from his plane. He and Sapnap had grabbed him from the airport, or at least had been trying while they were pushing their way through the thick thrum of people. Dream was determined to see him first, scanning heads as he followed behind Sapnap toward the terminal George was dropped at.
When they did find him, his back was turned. Dream didn’t even care George didn’t see them, and didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around him the minute he got close, pulling George in.
And George only gawked at them, struggling for a minute until Dream started laughing behind him, his voice real and not distorted through the microphone. Dream had initiated that hug, and George hadn’t even returned that one.
Dream just wanted touch, and right now leaning against his shoulder would suffice. It would, especially when George was here to stay. So when George shifted again, pulling away and meeting Dream’s eye again, Dream could see the gears turning in his head, could see he was plotting something.
He waited in silence, staring back at George, admiring quietly the way his eyebrows pinched together, how clearly his freckles dusted his cheeks even in the poor lighting. How long his eyelashes were, the way his hair sat on his forehead.
George inhaled, and Dream stopped.
“You used to have a girlfriend.” George stated, and Dream could hear the tire in his voice. That still didn't stop him from feeling both surprise and a twinge of disappointment from it.
“Yeah, I did,” Dream confirmed, but George knew that so there must have been a reason why he was bringing it up. “What about it?”
“Well, I had a girlfriend too, and I was just wondering—”
“Just a girlfriend George?” Dream cut in incredulously. “You had like six different ones,” he pointed out before sputtering, “Why are we talking about this?”
“Shut up and listen to me, idiot.” George muttered, and Dream rolled his eyes at the small shove he gave him. “I was just wondering…” George trailed off, and Dream waited patiently for him to find his words. “How it would feel to kiss a guy.” He finished, and Dream paused.
They’re friends. They’re allowed to talk about this, allowed to comfortably figure this out. But the question sent Dream on edge for a second, and he prayed George didn’t see it on his face when he finally pulled himself together. “Oh.” He says, and George looked away from him.
“You kissed a guy, didn't you?” George asked, his voice hushed. And Dream couldn’t deny that, he’d admitted it to George on a night just like this one, both sleepy and decidedly out of it. So Dream just nodded.
“Do you…?” George trailed off, and Dream could tell what he was asking, trying not to pry. And Dream honestly just wanted to help George, but he had no idea what he was trying to do. Dream shook his head. No, he didn’t have a label.
“But would you… try with me?” George asked like he was asking Dream any old thing, like his opinion on how to fix a line of code, to give him food during a minecraft challenge. Dream felt his breath escape him. He couldn’t say anything, and when he simply stared at George he accepted it as a no.
“Sorry,” George blurted, and he was already moving away, distancing himself. “Forget it. I was just wondering.”
“No,” Dream spluttered. “I’m just confused, what are you saying? What do you want to—you wanna—”
“Like practice,” George weakly defended. “It’s not meant to mean anything, I just wanted to know what you—what guys felt like.” George said, and Dream was half-following, half-lost, mouth agape where he was looking down at George. Yeah, he was dreaming. He had to be. No way his best friend, who had been simped for and flirted with for years at this rate—rightfully so—was asking to kiss him.
Dream swallowed. “Ok,” He said before he could sorely regret it. “So you’re just gonna…” Dream‘s voice was lost to his throat when George took his stubbled chin between his fingers. He pulled, forcing Dream’s neck to crane until his lips met George’s; plump and pink and perfect.
Dream’s brows knitted together as he focused, and George didn't pull away or let him go, extending their press before rising to his knees and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeved wrist. “Let’s try this.” He muttered. The white smile on his hoodie mocked Dream as he watched in awe as George’s hands fell to either side of his neck, cupping his jaw and kissing Dream as if he were making art of it, rising above him and pushing, pushing, pushing.
Dream couldn’t help himself from grabbing George’s wrist, and blindly he kissed back. Dream knew in the back of his mind that the weight of the consequences hadn’t set in yet. This had the power to change them, to change their relationship. Things could be awkward for them forever after this, things could be awkward enough for George to leave for Britain and never return. And even if they did separate on good terms, Dream knew deep down he wouldn’t be able to let this go. This dumb fucking crush he had on George ran too deep, and he knew he’d never be able to let him go. It wasn’t feasible, and yet he kisses him back.
George pulled off, and together they fought to catch their breaths, panting on top of one another. Dream felt his heart pull at the scene. This was a thing of dreams; he just wanted him more. He wanted to believe he was satisfied with just gentle touches, with having their shoulders brush. But he wasn’t. He wanted all George would give him and more, and trying to suppress those desires would surely drive him to insanity.
“That’s how you kiss?” George asked, and Dream was swooning with how he sounded out of breath, his gut drumming with the thought of it.
“No,” Dream murmured, voice soft. He couldn’t make his voice any louder, only soft and low for George, staring up at him.
“What do you mean?” George asked, and he fell to his haunches. The sweatshirt only showed the bottom of George’s athletic shorts peeking out, bunched up his thighs. Dream sat himself up from where he had sunk against the headboard.
“For practice,” Dream repeated, using George’s words, “Let me kiss you.”
George almost laughed at that, and Dream was terrified. He felt more like a stupid teenager than ever, fumbling along with his friend as they figured each other out. But it was fun, and Dream felt his neck go warm when he saw George’s smile.
“Okay, fine.” George said. And Dream knew it was a thinly veiled challenge with the way he said it; it was never a simple yes with George.
“Okay fine?” Dream echoed with a laugh, and George scoffed and shifted to lean against the headboard, putting his arms out to Dream as if to say to do it already and stop wasting time. Dream paused though, hovering as he leaned close, his other arm thrown across George to brace himself on the bed beside his hip. “Kiss you like anyone else?” Dream asked, voice low, “Kiss you like I would anyone else, like all of my exes?” Dream repeated, and George didn’t have a snarky retort. Instead he simply nodded, looking up at Dream through his lashes with a challenge.
Dream was not a modest person. As much as he tried to pretend, when it came to a handful of things he couldn’t. Especially when he wanted to make George proud of him, when he wanted George to see how good he is. And as childish as it might sound, Dream was too hook, line, and sinker to care. He wanted George’s praise, he wanted to impress George as much as he could, so when he had the opportunity to kiss him, knowing full well he’s gotten nothing but compliments in the past for it, he shows off.
And George felt great under him, just like he’d imagined. Soft, pretty skin, lips, and hair, cologne that smells everything George that Dream is instantly infatuated with. After not giving George any time to breathe, Dream traces his kisses elsewhere, moving away from his lips and letting George gasp for air as his lips press below his jaw and down his neck along his pulse. Dream could hear George’s breath stutter, could feel his heart beat rapidly beneath him, and yet he doesn’t stop and George makes no move to stop him.
He goes lower.
His hand resting beside George’s hip moves once Dream’s shifted his weight to his legs, latching onto the skin just at George’s waist and easily pulling him, other hand falling to George’s other side to force him to lay down. George’s hoodie bunched up around his shoulders and hitched up his stomach when he moved, and without thinking about it once he was comfortable laying against the pillows Dream pulled his hoodie back down over the pale expanse of his stomach. Only then did Dream move from where he’d been pressing kiss after kiss to his pulse to duck down to milky collarbones and make a mess of them, which he’d been wanting to do all night.
As a silent thank you, George sighs. Dream doesn’t stop. George doesn’t stop him.
When Dream moved back to his neck, George finally whined, effectively snapping Dream out of it. He paused and pulled away, sweeping his eyes across the reddened mess he’d made of his friend’s skin before finally meeting his eyes. He hasn’t seen George’s cheeks so pink before. He can’t believe he’s done this, that this was all him.
“You want me to stop?”
“Your stubble,” George breathed, clearly agitated, “It tickles.” He complained weakly, and Dream started to laugh before it was punched out of him, George’s hands not remaining stagnant at his sides anymore and instead tracing up Dream’s arms and to the back of his neck, curling through his hair. He pulled, and Dream stayed still, his eyes blowing wide and his heart dropping to his stomach. This can’t be what he thinks it is, this can’t be what George is doing to him. This can’t be what Dream’s only wanted all along.
“George?” He asked, voice quiet, and George stared at him.
“Dream.” He replied just as softly, and Dream’s heart did flips at the very sound of it. George tugged on him again, and this time he didn't hesitate, ducking back down and capturing his lips seriously, letting George’s hands tangle through his hair.
“What are we doing?” Dream asked when he pulled away just a little for air, and George refused to let up.
“Stop talking.” He muttered, and Dream was quick to abide, letting his hand slip under his hoodie and hold him, relishing in the feel of the soft lip of skin just above his hip.
After another minute passes, Dream smiles against him and murmurs, “I don’t think this is practice anymore.” And George keens with laughter, turning his head for a second when he can’t stop, letting Dream kiss his cheek. “You can’t do this to me, George,” Dream says when he continues to laugh, and Dream falls even harder for how good he is and how good he tastes, because as funny as this was Dream couldn’t afford for this not to be real. He couldn’t afford for this to be just a joke. George ignores him though, and his back arches off of the bed with how funny he thinks it is, knowing he’s getting under Dream’s skin so intimately, knowing he’s driving Dream crazy. “George.” Dream pleaded.
At that, George finally did stop, letting his chest heave when he started to catch his breath, glaring up at Dream with a smirk and an eyebrow raised. He fidgets with the string of his hoodie, and Dream wills himself not to get distracted.
“I can’t do this,” Dream blurted. “I can’t—I want, I can’t keep—”
George hushed him and put his hand to his chin, letting his thumb brush over his bottom lip. “What do you want?” He asked sweetly, and Dream felt all sense leave him as George’s thumb pressed down. He answered without thinking.
“You.” He says, honest and low, and he feels himself go flush at the admittance of it. He can’t believe he just said that. It used to be jokes but this was clearly not a joke anymore. This time George knew it was serious, and Dream could feel his heart about to beat out of his chest.
“Good, because I want the same.” George replied with a shrug, and Dream waits. He waits for something else, for George to say he hates him, and he didn’t.
“What? You—George,” Dream warned, mouth threatening to break into the smile. “No, you’re joking.” Dream said, and George only smiled wider, letting his head move to the side of his mouth to Dream’s face and cupping it.
“I’m not.” George said, and Dream couldn’t believe how blunt George was being, how blissed out and tired he was beneath him. As if to confirm, Dream leaned down and kissed him before pulling away to scan his expression.
George made a silly face at him, and Dream bursted into laughter at it, unable to stop his head from ducking into George’s chest when he wheezes, practically deflating on top of him. George’s hands moved to rub at his back, and Dream moved to his elbows in awe, staring up at George.
“You’re so stupid.” He stated, and George only beamed at him, tucking a lock of hair behind Dream’s ear before returning his hand to his back and pulling him closer.
“You’re the stupid one, Dream.” George reassured him, and Dream only laughed, light and distant, observing George willingly in a new light, soft and warm and beautiful beneath him, smiling at him.
“Does this mean we’re—”
“Yes,” George rolled his eyes, before rethinking. “Unless you don’t want—”
“No no no,” Dream quickly reassured, picking up his head from where he’d been resting it on George’s chest. At his eagerness, George only smiled wider and Dream felt his cheeks darken. “I do want. I—I want really, really badly.” He confessed, and George rewarded him with a soft pull through his hair, scratching at his scalp.
“Then I guess we have a deal.” George snickered, and Dream tilted his head to the side.
“You’re… my boyfriend?” He asked softly, and George cupped the side of his face, his thumb dusting easily over Dream’s freckled cheeks.
“Kiss me again and we’ll find out.” George giggled, and Dream moved to brace himself on his hands, on either side of George’s shoulders.
“That better be a promise.” He murmured, and he took George’s lips in his again, planning to kiss him until George couldn’t take it any longer, until George was fast asleep against him, warm and cozy. Until Dream realizes that he’s happy, and realizes he must be the luckiest guy in the world with the love of his life finally right next to him, where he’s belonged for the last several years.