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George didn’t properly get it.
Of course he didn't get it and Dream couldn't blame him for that. George was a cis man with an income that set him on the comfortable side of middle class and enough pretty privilege to last him a lifetime, Dream couldnt really be upset when George fucked up after they first met.
“But you sound like a girl?” 15 year old George had questioned over the teamspeak call as Dream physically cringed at the statement.
“Yeah, I know. Could you maybe like… not bring that up though? It makes me feel bad.”
“Sorry, I just don’t get it. You’re not a girl, but you sound like one. Are you trans? Like, are you a boy?”
Dream, once again, cringed at the statement, rubbing a hand over their eyes as they groaned, “Sort of, but I’m not a boy. You know what nonbinary means?”
“No.”
“It’s like, not male or female. I use they/them pronouns like how you use he/him,” Dream explained slowly tensing as they prepared for the influx of insults and the immediate unfriending.
“I don’t really get it, but okay. Like, you just want me to call you they instead of she?” George questioned, picking at his fingers as he leaned back in his gaming chair and let his eyes fall closed.
“Yeah, that’d be good.”
“Okay, I can do that. You still wanna be called C-”
“No!” Dream yelled, interrupting him before he could get their deadname out. They couldn't fucking stand it, “No, please don't call me that. Dream is better, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, that's cool. Sorry if I, like, fuck up with the pronouns thing though. I'm not used to it, yet.”
“Yeah,” Dream sighed. They didn't want to have to wait for George to get used to it but they understood. George had never met someone like them so it was understandable that he needed time to get used to it, “That's fine.”
And he did fuck up at first. Not a lot, but it was enough for Dream to poke fun at and jokingly pretend they were offended.
“She's coming up behind,” George yelled into his mic during the CSGO match they were currently in and almost immediately realised his mistake, “Shit, sorry.”
“Wow, George. Someone woke up and decided to be transphobic today, huh?” Dream teased and George would be worried if he couldn't literally hear the grin that was tugging at their lips, “I'm ashamed.”
“Shut up, dude” George laughed as he shook his head, “Sorry, though. It was an accident.”
“Yeah, it's fine. Don't worry about it.”
And it was fine because Dream knew that George was okay with it... was okay with them .
George was, however, still weirded out by the fact that Dream was afab even 3 years after he'd found out, aged 18 and still an ocean apart in their respective college and university.
“Why are you so fucking grumpy today, bro? Did I do something?” He questioned, the hurt in his voice making Dream feel a little bad for all the snappy comments they’d thrown his way all night.
“I'm on my fucking period. I'm sorry, dude. It's not you, I swear,” Dream sighed, dragging their irritatingly long hair into a bun and rubbing at the back of their neck, “I'm just in pain.”
George was silent for a moment before he spoke up, “sometimes I forget you have a cunt. Your voice got so deep after you started smoking.”
Dream chuckled quietly, “I wish I could forget, and yeah that was kind of the whole fucking point, dumbass.”
“Mmm,” George hummed, his eyes focussing back on the game as he hit Dream’s character with a stick, “Will it get any better after you start taking testosterone?”
Dreams eyebrows raised at that.
“You looked into this shit?”
George went silent for a moment and Dream could tell his face was flushed, “Well, yeah. You're my best friend. I wanted to like, know about that. For you.”
Dream smiled. That made them feel good.
“I'm getting my hair cut off soon too. Then I just need the tits made smaller and we’re good.”
“Oh, cool. Haircut and tits cut. I don't know why but I always assumed you didn't have tits. You give off flat chest energy, Dreamy,” George teased, waiting for Dream’s wheezed laughter in reply.
“I fuckin’ wish. Double H’s.”
“I don't know what that means.”
Dream laughed, “Double H tits weigh like eight pounds.”
“What the fuck?” George asked, shock lacing his tone, “You got big ass titties.”
“Yeah…” They trailed off into silence and Dream could practically hear the bitten off comments on George's end.
“George, are you thinking about my tits?”
“You want the truth?”
“Always.”
“Yeah. I googled double H tits and they're kinda good,” he murmured as he chewed at his thumbnail, “bigger than any I've ever seen.”
Dream chuckled at that, “Yeah, like you’ve seen many tits, you fucking virgin.”
“Dude, I lost my v-card when I was fifteen. Just because you can't get your clit sucked, doesn't mean you have to take it out on everyone else,” George teased as Dream’s eyebrows raised suddenly as they sat forward in their chair.
“Keep talking about my clit and I'll remove your kneecaps, bitch boy.”
George laughed and started hitting Dream’s Minecraft character with an axe, the other fighting back as their wheeze sounded off in the background.
George had felt a little bad for bringing up the fact that Dream had… well… boobs, and it played on his mind for days. Every time they talked he couldn't help but imagine how much it must fuck with the blonde’s head, the way that Dream couldn't afford the stuff that they needed like surgery or testosterone or even just a binder.
It was the last one that stuck in George's head because that was something he could do for Dream. He knew the blonde’s bra size and what sized shirts they wore since he’d made Dream a stupid shirt that said “I get no bitches” for their eighteenth birthday (along with a case of beers that Dream had to get their mom to sign for because George definitey forgot that they weren't allowed to drink until 21) so he’d asked for their measurements then and he could find the text with them in if he looked hard enough.
And he did find them. He did some research to find a good quality type (probably not enough if he was being honest with himself but he was lazy) and when he found one that he thought would flatten out Dream’s chest enough for it to be almost unnoticeable, he selected Dream’s measurements and ordered it.
He got it delivered to his house because he didn't know how Dream’s parents would react or how… Discreet the packaging would be, he opted on getting a box to add some other things in. A few cheap hoodies, and a pack of brand new boxers because George had sat there and, albeit very uncomfortably, listened to Dream rant about how they’d ruined their favourite boxers during their last period.
He tucked the binder and boxers inside one of the hoodies with a small letter saying “enjoy, dude. - George”, taped up the small box and left to post it. It cost a shit ton of money, more than he’d expected but postage to Florida was apparently fucking absurd, but it wasn't like his family was scrounging for money. George got the email and the tracker to tell him that it'd be there in two-three days (the extra money he'd spent for quick delivery paid off apparently).
It was almost funny, how as soon as the notification to say the package had been delivered appeared on his phone, his computer was lighting up with a call from Dream.
He answered it and was greeted with a big smile and an, apparently still taped up, box.
“What did you send me?” Was the first thing they said, placing the box on the desk and adjusting the camera so both them and the package were in view.
“Oh, uh, it's nothing really. You don't need to call me to open it, it's fine.”
George was stuttering, he suddenly felt very nervous about his semi-impulse purchase. What if he’d overstepped? It was technically none of his business past Dream sharing their experience and maybe Dream wanted to buy their first binder themself. It wasn't really fair that George had taken away tha-
“Hoodies?”
George looked up.
Dream was staring into the box with a blank look and George nodded and quietly muttered, “There's, uh… There's some other stuff tucked into the bottom hoodie too.”
His face was bright red now as Dream dug out the top two hoodies to reach the last one, it was lime green and had a strange blue tinge to the cuffs at the sleeves and bottom band. They dug inside and pulled out the pack of boxers and the packaging the binder was still encased in. He was wrong, the bag it came sealed in was very discreet, so much so that if George hadn't known the company name he would have torn open the package himself to see what it was.
Dream picked up the boxers first, looking them over with a smile.
“You bought me underwear?” Dream asked with a quirked eyebrow and George let an embarrassed smile pull at his lips.
“Well, I mean, you said that you uh… ruined… your favourite pair and I know you don't have many because of your parents and you don't want them to find out so I just thought I'd just… I'd get you some. Sorry if they're too big or whatever. I got like a size or two up from me.”
“Large, right?”
“Yeah.”
“They’ll fit just fine, George,” the blonde smiled, picking up the packet the binder was in and looking it over, “What’s this?”
“I um… It was the main reason I sent the package. If I've overstepped or like, made you uncomfortable I'm really fucking sorry. I just thought that maybe I could do something for you and if you don't like it, feel free to send it back to me and you can get your own I just…” George was rambling and trailed off when he saw the blonde's fond smile.
“Did you get me a packer or some shit?” Dream asked playfully and George's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, “Because this is a big bag. If you got me a packer this big you are seriously trying to boost my ego.”
“What’s a packer?” And when George saw the look on Dream’s face he immediately took it back, “You know what? Never mind. I don't think I wanna know.”
Dream just smiled deviously and began tearing away at the plastic bag. It was, arguably, one of the scariest moments of George's life because, yes, they could love it, but what if they hated it. What if they were uncomfortable and came to the conclusion that George was thinking about their boobs? And technically, George supposed he was, it was just more in a “Fuck, that must suck” way than a “Woah, tits” way.
He watched as the blonde pulled out the fabric and a small booklet dropped out with it, although Dream wasn't paying attention to that because their eyes were trained on the binder as they opened it and stayed silent.
“I'm sorry, I know you probably wanted to get the first one yourself and I've fucked that up,” George rambled after a few seconds of silence from the blonde, “You can send it back or just throw it out. Fuck, I knew this was a bad idea, I'm so-”
“George,” Dream cut him off, “How much did this cost you?”
“It doesn't matter.”
“Yes it does,” the taller replied and George could hear the way they were getting choked up.
“Including shipping to mine?”
“Yes.”
“And including shipping to yours?”
“Yes.”
“Dream, it really doesn-”
“George, how much did this all cost?”
George mumbled something quietly and after Dream practically yelled at him to speak up he finally huffed out an irritated, “just under £100 but it's fine! Dream you know it doe-”
“I can't… I have to pay you back. There's no way I'm letting you spend £100 on me,” they gasped and George could see the tears forming in their eyes.
“Do you… did I overstep? Like, with the binder and stuff?” George whispered as he watched Dream oggle it with a look he couldn't quite discern, “If I did I'm really sorry.”
Dream just shook their head and their face cracked into a teary smile, “No, god no. It's so… Fuck, thank you so much.”
George let himself relax slightly and took in Dream’s grin, “Go put it on.”
And Dream began to pull off his hoodie and George screamed and covered his eyes, “Not here! Jesus fuck, Dream!”
“Relax, dickhead I'm turning off my camera,” the blonde laughed as they clicked the button and George breathed out a sigh, “I thought you liked tits anyway.”
“Well yeah,” George flushed and they chuckled. George flushed a lot around Dream, he came to realise, “But like… you don't… it's weird because they're not really yours. ”
“I mean, they're attached to my body?” Dream laughed with a confused face.
“Yeah but like… I don't know. You don't want them so it feels like it's not fair for me to like… you know…” He trailed off as he could practically hear the blonde’s lips pulled up into a smirk over the call.
“You saying you don't wanna see ‘em because they’ll be stuck in your brain? Don't wanna accidentally get off to my tits because I'm getting rid of them as soon as I can?”
“That's not-”
“It is though, isn't it?”
“I just…” George was practically crimson at this point because despite the fact that Dream clearly knew they’d hit the nail on the fucking head, he couldn't tell them that, “I don't know.”
“It's okay,” Dream laughed and George heard their footsteps trail away from the mic, presumably to look at themself in the mirror, and the brunette smiled subconsciously at the pleased gasp that followed.
“Holy fuck, George.”
And then the camera turned back on and George's jaw dropped.
They were gone almost entirely, pressed down to an A-Cup maximum and then the wide grin on their face pulled it all together.
“Does it… Do you feel good?” The brunette asked, watching the way that they were looking themself over on the screen.
“It's a little tight but I think that’s kinda the whole point. It's comfortable as hell.”
“Oh the, um,” George cleared his throat before continuing, “On the website they said not to wear it for more than like 10 hours. Oh, and you're supposed to take, like, breaks. Like a day where you don't wear it at all.”
“You really looked into this, huh?” Dream asked, his eyes tearing up again.
“Well, yeah. What if it was, like, a death trap or something? I needed to make sure I wasn't gonna kill you,” he muttered and the blonde just rolled their eyes
“Well, thank you. It means a lot to me,” they smiled, “And the boxers too! It was nice that you remembered.”
“I honestly don't think I'll ever forget. The words ‘shedding my uterine lining’ has been forever ingrained into my mind in the worst possible way,” George shuddered and Dream just laughed impossibly loud.
It was nice, falling back into the rhythm they had before, as Dream just relaxed and kept running his hand over the beige fabric. George would chuckle ever so slightly at the way they’d drum a tune against their chest.
And Dream mostly listened to the rules. They took a day off every so often but George could tell when Dream wasn't listening, could tell when the blonde had been wearing the tight fabric for a few too many hours because his breathing would get heavy and he’d rub at his ribs with a quiet hiss.
George would mention it every time, would bring it up and point it out and sometimes Dream would lie to his face and say he hadn't, to which point George would push again because he knew it made the blonde more comfortable in themself but George couldn't cope with the fact it was hurting him.
“Are you breathing okay?” George asked after a few moments of silence, lying in their own beds, thousands of miles apart as the call hit the six hour mark.
“Yeah, why?” Dream mumbled and George just rubbed at his eyes with a sigh.
“Are you… Are you wearing your binder?” And George could feel the way the blonde tensed up as the line went silent for a few seconds.
“No.”
“Don't lie to me.”
“I've only been wearing it for seven hours and I can have it on for 10,” Dream huffed as George heard him roll over in bed.
“It doesn't matter. You never sleep in it, you know this.”
“You wouldn't get it,” and no, George wouldn't get it.
“No, but you know what? If you fucking die because you haven't taken that thing off for ages I will be so pissed off do you know how responsible I'd feel? I bought you that thing and if it kills you, it'll probably ruin me. Maybe that’s a little selfish but if not wanting you to fucking die makes me selfish, then so be it.”
George felt a little shitty after that, Dream going practically silent before he heard a gasp and the blonde falling back into sheets, “It's off.”
“Thank you.”
“I'm wearing the green hoodie you sent too.”
“If I'm being completely honest I thought it was yellow, but I'm glad you like it.”
“It smells like you, I think,” Dream mumbled through the fabric of the sleeve, it being slightly oversized even on them so god knows how it must have looked on George.
“I, um, I wore it to bed for like two days I think. I probably should have washed it before I sent it sor-”
“No, don't apologize. I like it. Smells… soft. And like coconut.”
“That's uh…” He chuckled lightly, “That's probably my shampoo.”
“You use coconut shampoo!” Dream gasped as George just flushed and began laughing harder.
“And conditioner and bodywash,” the brunette added.
“I always assumed you’d smell like apples or something,” Dream hummed after the pair had calmed their giggles, “Something sort of sour but in a good way, you know?”
“Mmm,” George hummed as his eyes fell shut and he listened to Dream’s breathing, “I think I probably just smell like coconut and vanilla.”
“Vanilla?”
“I have loads of vanilla scented candles around my room. They're nice so I light them all the time,” George mumbled and yawned loudly.
“What do you think I'd smell like?” Dream asked quietly and let his eyes turn back to the phone, despite just seeing their discord chat and the thick green bar at the top of the screen.
“Home,” George mumbled tiredly, “I think you'd smell like home.”
And if Dream teared up a little bit at the words as the brunette drifted off to sleep, nobody had to know.