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George was having a bad day.
You know how some days just feel obnoxiously annoying for no reason? You know those days when you wake up from a pretty-ok slumber but immediately feel yucky and tired even though nothing went wrong in your dreams?
George was having one of those days.
Sometimes things just nag him for no reason, some days it wasn’t easy to avoid those things. Today George woke up sourly because his blanket ended up on the floor when he passed out, and he woke up to coldness devouring his body, despite the warm tail tucked between his legs that he squeezed together in an attempt to warm up.
He woke up cold, and that’s what made his day start off on a bad note.
He really wishes it didn’t end up like this, dragging himself out of the bed with an ugly frown and disgust pooling at the bottom of his stomach from weary distaste. And it got even worse when George looked in his dresser and found an empty drawer where his hoodies were supposed to be, letting out a distressed grown when he realized he wore all of them last week and put them in the laundry to wash. He remembers wearing 2 hoodies in one day and thinking, future George can worry about this problem . And man he wishes he didn’t do that.
On top of that, he didn’t even know if Dream started the laundry, so the thought of dirty clothes sitting in the washing machine made him roll his eyes and huff out an annoyed breath from where he stood on cold wood, arms crossed tightly over his chest.
While the battiness took over leisurely, he didn’t make the effort to find anything warm to wear and hastily left his bedroom, hoping to god that Dream started making breakfast or something to help relieve this awful morning luck.
The sting of cold floors hit him sorely with every step down the hall and down the stairs, thinking back to when Dream protested that they keep the carpet for downstairs to save money. Negative thoughts kept flooding his mind whenever he turned his head and looked at something else, and maybe that comes from the worst start to his day, or just his personality. He’d like to think he was an optimist.
But even the cold draft proved him wrong when he hissed at the freezing air that slipped into the room due to an open window, snapping his eyes in the direction of the wind and scowling when he saw the culprit wide open over the sink.
Dream was nowhere to be found, apparently still sleeping tight in his warm bed, with clean blankets. George always woke up first, and sometimes it was nice seeing the sunrise, but today it wasn't nice. Today he wanted to cuddle up in something warm, away from this freezing breeze that crawled up his skin. He didn't want to blame it on Dream, but his heart was aching for the blond boy to wake up, even though it was probably best for the hard-working dog hybrid to get some rest. Torn between decisions, George groans.
As much as his feet didn’t want to move any faster because of freezing limbs, he still managed to strut over to the window and attempt to slam it shut, despite his short reach over the counter- which was oddly taller than usual- another sigh pulled from George's mouth. Somehow, even with all his mustered strength, there was still a crack open that he couldn’t seem to close. Or perhaps it just didn’t want to close.
He mistakenly let out a broken whine and winced with how loud it was, hoping that the neighbors next door couldn’t hear it. Embarrassment and frustration filled his brain now, piling up and finally it all created a headache, something dull and painful pounding on his forehead fast and irritating.
“Fuck,” George curses angrily, slamming his loose fist into the counter with a groan so tight in his chest, that it feels like an awakening when it releases. Pain immediately wracks up in his wrist bone, but he can’t find himself to care when more cold air files through the dumb window.
Slowly lifting up his head, trying not to disturb the waves of sharpness clouding by his temple, he stalks over to the couch where maybe he could sit down and curl up in a blanket, but his eyes scan over a bare couch, blank and leather stricken. Where the hell were the blankets? Were they in the laundry too?
George can’t help but widen his eyes with confusion, tail pausing from where it was gently swaying, the hair on his neck standing as it gets colder and colder with the drifting breeze.
Some days it was cold in Florida, but this cold? And, there’s no blankets?!
A sheer shiver wracks through his body again and it sends another wave of pain into his head, so he bends over and all of a sudden he feels like throwing up. But he can’t, not on days like this. On days like these, he feels nauseous and gross, but nothing ever wants to come up. He can tell by the way his throat hesitates to gag, but never does and he’s left with being stuck on the edge of choking something up.
Some days he wished he wasn’t a cat-hybrid; some days he wished he was just a cat, so his whole body was covered in warm fur that would provide him the warmth of no other. But all he had were a few patches of soft fuzz near the base of his ears and the length of his grey tail- never enough to suffice him comfortable body heat.
When he thinks of body heat, he thinks of Dream. Dream in his gigantic body that towers over him and somehow is always warm when he wakes up, and maybe that’s because he’s a dog-hybrid, those of which are usually warm enough to bat off any cold wind like what George was suffering through currently (pun-intended).
He’d kill to have Dream’s arms around him right now, but George is generous, and his fuzzy boyfriend is sleeping right now, who is usually a pretty light sleeper but just as grumpy as George when he wakes up. So he fights the idea of going to wake Dream up just for his own comfort- because he was generous. And maybe it was the worst day to be that way, but part of him wasn’t always some mean cat.
No, he really can’t do that. Running the risk of upsetting Dream could only make his day worse, and he didn’t want that.
There was not much to do except try and find some comfort on the couch and muster up some warmth there, so George strides over and winces with every cold step on the tile, finally plopping down on the leather. For some reason his brain didn’t exactly recognize how cold leather was when he plopped down, bare thighs strapping to the freezing sofa and he jumped with how cold it felt on his pale skin. A hiss leaves his mouth instinctively when he sinks uncomfortably into the fabric, freezing up way more than he intended.
Trying to huff past it, he curls his legs up onto the couch as best as he can while the leather drags against his skin like a cold wave of ice. It doesn’t help. No way it can help with the way the window cracks open and sends a fit of more freezing air into the house, directly towards George where it breezes up his neck and into his untucked hair.
This could all be okay if there was a blanket on top of him, or at least a clean hoodie in his drawer, but no, this whole day was going wrong.
For a second, he contemplates the possibility of maybe waking up Dream, like how would he feel? What face would he make when George nudged him? How annoyed would he be for waking him up from a deep slumber? The thought made George cringe, because the thought of his boyfriend being upset with him just curled his insides with disgust. Usually they get away with bantering constantly or nagging each other with little things, but maybe it’s the poor aura of the day that has George worrying that it would be too much of an overstep to disturb him.
Yet the house was fucking freezing, and George would do anything to get that goddamn window closed.
So even though it ached his chest to do so, he stands up with nimble feet and shuffles his way down the hall- since Dream slept downstairs and maybe that also convinced George a little more that this could be a quick little thing and they can move on right when this window was closed. And then he can settle on the couch a little more comfortably and watch some TV until Dream is awake- unless his favorite show didn’t record, going further to make his day even worse.
Yeah, maybe George wasn’t an optimist.
When he reaches the door, he doesn’t bother knocking and instead he pushes it open to find the room extremely warm, immediately easing George’s muscles and letting the hot air sink into his skin. He purrs at the sudden warmness, head tipping back with eyes lidded from the pleasure. He didn’t know it felt this good to be warm, but he was loving it. He could stay in here if he wanted, curled by the end of the bed while Dream slept, and maybe it was a little bit creepy but it was possible and definitely not a horrible idea.
But the thought of leaving the window open to come back to a freezing kitchen did not sound like a good time, so George shrugged off the amazing idea and sighed as he approached the sleeping boy.
As he got closer, Dream’s figure became more clear and visible, where he was laid onto his side facing George, face buried into the pillows as he breathed softly into it, mouth gaped open slightly and eyes closed like he was on cloud-nine. George smiled kindly at the sight of him so sleepy, hair ruffled into the pillows and hoodie draped over his shoulders that was large enough to start exposing his collarbone if he leaned any further off the bed.
Sometimes George forgets that Dream’s a dog-hybrid, and he finds it so cute how his ears fold up when he sleeps, tail tucked in between his legs where George can’t see due to the heavy blanket covering his waist.
It almost made it worse thinking that George had to wake up his sleeping form, pouting when he imagined the screwed face that Dream would make when he opens his eyes to his boyfriend who’s grumpy and annoyed.
But he would be lying if he said that his adorable face didn’t cheer him up a little bit.
After a little bit of staring- he just can’t help it- he finally gulps and leans forward with worried eyes. Lifting a hand to his shoulder, he gives the sleeping dog boy a minuscule shove, shaking him lightly and huffing out a nervous breath when Dream stirs a little bit.
Like he said, Dream is a light sleeper.
The blonde’s eyes almost immediately start blinking open tiredly, mouth drawing into an annoyed line with a grumble, turning onto his back and groaning into the room quietly. George steps back quickly at the movements, pulling his hand back to his chest for protection.
Dream’s face scrunches up with morning-weariness and finally his vision clears up to the sight of little George, who stands by his bed with his arms wrapped around his own body.
“George?” Dream mumbles with a hint of annoyance, voice husk and dark when it reaches George’s ears, worrisome and gentle. “‘S up?”
The brunette shuffles in his stance, tail coming in between his legs and ears softening for a moment, before glancing to the door that lies open stray, light barely peeking into the heavy atmosphere.
“I need help closing the um- the window,” George answers and his voice comes out watery but desperate, and slightly whiny that frightens him for a moment. He feels like he’s walking on glass right now but with his words, and it’s abnormal because usually he’s easy to bother Dream like it didn’t mean anything. And Dream took it that way still, despite the change in George’s tone, because the blond scoffs quietly as if George wouldn’t be able to hear it, but he very much does.
George stumbles back when the blond swings his legs over the bed with a tired groan, rubbing his eyes and mumbling something under his breath that the brunette can’t comprehend, and he’s kinda glad he didn’t. Fear travels up his veins at the way Dream carries himself out of bed, cracking his knuckles and avoiding George’s stare, in a dark haze that’s tense and cloudy from just being awoken from sleep. Usually this wouldn’t do anything to George, but the cat is incredibly intimidated by Dream right now, who stands up and sighs when he walks toward the open door, not sparing the cat another glance as he leaves.
He’s supposed to follow, it just takes him a moment before he does. Quickly before he follows him out, George leans over the spot where Dream just got up from and inhales deeply, frowning at the scent that belongs to Dream- who happens to be an annoyed boyfriend this morning instead of a comforting one.
Maybe he should just go back to normal George- who was grumpy and whiny moments before this. Maybe then Dream could see how in distress he was.
So he rolls his eyes and heads toward the cracked door, and stalks into the hallway light that Dream must’ve turned on when George was distracted. Turning the corner, he finds Dream leaning by the counter and looking around, scratching behind his furry ears to relieve an inch or something.
George approaches and shivers at the draft that makes itself clear again, Dream clueless to the feeling due to his own heavy sweatshirt on his body. Dream doesn’t even look at him, and George doesn’t know why.
Maybe he expects George to be whiny, to be annoying like he usually is. A brat that he has to put into place. Maybe it’s such an expectancy by now, that he has forced this frown to prepare himself for the inevitable worst of George, because they both know the cat is never good in the mornings.
It makes George frown a bit, guilty because his own boyfriend won’t look at him because he gets fussy in the mornings, guilty because his boyfriend expects George to annoy him- and that hurts more than it should.
The cold air strikes his skin again and George snaps out of his drowning thoughts.
“Over there,” he whispers, but loud enough so it reaches Dream. Finally, Dream turns his head towards the cat-hybrid and his lip twitches with uncertainty, eyes dark and emotionless.
“I know.” Dream admits in a low, uninviting voice that George almost whimpers at, but it gets clogged up in his throat due to some unreleased fear. Dream doesn’t acknowledge it when he steps toward the window George pointed at, body heavy where he approaches it.
George decides not to protest even though he should bite back, his instinct is to bite back. But this morning he really wasn’t feeling it, already so annoyed and destructed by the shivering room and stained-cold thighs from the glacial leather he touched earlier.
Finally, George can hear the squeak of a window closing all the way shut, wind quieting down and the cutoff air sounding satisfying when the room hallows and becomes silent. George sighs finally and knocks his head back with a content smile, even though his body was still bare, at least that part was done.
He actually thinks that’s a pretty good sign to Dream, the way a shiver goes down his spine and his shoulders shake from chilliness. But apparently it’s not good enough, because George’s eyes are glued to the dog boy who grumbles something again and seconds later, slides past George and down the hallway- back to his bedroom.
When George realizes Dream is leaving, he can’t prevent the whimper that escapes his throat, high and needy and definitely loud enough for Dream to hear. This time George doesn’t frown at the sound he makes, instead his face softens and his eyelids droop, already feeling the water that wants to build up underneath his dilated pupils.
And the sound is enough for Dream to stop dead in his tracks, senses heightened and posture straightened. George sniffles and curls his lip when he feels tears start to rise in his eyes, quick to form and watery and pathetic. He wants to cry more, now that he realizes how dreadful this might be, a withering mess when he tries to clean up the mess of tears that start to fall with cold fingertips.
Everything starts coming down, everything that led up to this, the blanket on the floor, his empty drawer, the cold tile and freezing couch, and the goddamn window.
When George coughs out a weak, quiet sob, Dream turns his whole body around, tail whipping in the same speed with its perked up state. When their eyes meet, Dream’s ears droop at the sight and his cheekbones soften, pouting.
“Baby,” Dream whispers in a gentle tone, too gentle for George’s liking, and he whimpers again before backing up until his hip hits the island counter, which sizzles quickly into the skin exposed from pajama pants dragged too low. He hisses at the sharpness of its temperature, arching his back into it and scrunching his eyes closed so he doesn’t see how Dream looks at him with worried eyes.
Eyes closed shut and coldness covering his body again, Dream finally falls forward with a few large steps and pulls George into a body-crushing hug, George falling pliant into his arms at the newfound warmness of his boyfriend. His scent becomes a dying strength that he wants to smell forever, burying his nose into Dream’s collarbone that’s exposed from his draping shirt.
George shivers again at the sudden change of temperature, sniffing into the skin and leaning as close as he can get to the blond boy who coos into his ear softly.
“Oh baby, I’m so sorry,” Dream apologizes in a low voice, still filled with tired haze and dawning husk. “I’m sorry kitty, I didn’t know.”
Didn’t know what? How cold he was in this damn kitchen, nearly naked in his boxers and a thin t-shirt where there was an open window and no blankets? How could you not know?
But it didn’t matter anymore, because Dream was hugging him, letting him cry into his shoulders, further dampening the shirt on his body like it was something priceless.
“Bad morning,” George whimpers into his skin, arms crushed where they’re trapped between the two, but he couldn’t find it in him to move, so entranced by the dog boy’s smell and warmth covering him whole. It was so sudden and a little odd, but he was grateful.
Dream hums apologetically and tightens his hold around George’s shoulders, his own face burying into the brunette’s hair where it’s soft and messy, kind where it tickles his chin.
He’s so relieved to be in Dream’s arms, aching it all morning and so worried he would make him angry, but god it was so worth it to feel like this. All he felt was mush now, the wet on his cheeks drying quickly and body feeling like fuzz in Dream’s hold. His body was still lingering on the touch of the cold counter, but George couldn’t feel the cold anymore, not when Dream held him like this.
It wasn’t often they got all soft on each other like this, always so kept up with nagging each other and teasing each other, a relationship so playful, it was never intimate. And whenever it was intimate, one of the two would crack a joke and ruin it all, both of them tumbling into laughter like immature children. Let’s say it was usually Dream who made the joke, but George isn't bothered. Because it was them, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Yet it still felt weird to feel so close to Dream’s heartbeat, hearing it pound quickly in his chest and George can only think that was caused by him, worried and upset that he made George cry. George barely cried, but he was so vulnerable this morning that it was so destined to happen, whether Dream could sense that or not.
Enough silence goes on before Dream feels the need to speak again, voice just over a mumble buried in his hair. “Why are you wearing close to nothing, baby?” he asks tenderly, kissing the brown bunch of hair in comfort and George purrs into his neck at the soft gesture.
“‘N more hoodies,” he answers with a frown, nuzzling deeper into the pulse of his neck and whimpering when it beats against the curl of his nose.
“Oh love,” Dream sighs unexpectedly, pulling away and eliciting a high whine from George at the missing comfort. Dream doesn’t pull away far, not far enough for his body heat to escape their proximity, but it’s not as warm as before, and that’s enough for George to complain.
But then Dream reaches around himself and tugs at his own hoodie, slowly starting to pull it up. George is quick to protest with a frown. “But you’ll-”
“Shhh,” Dream coos quietly into his temple, kissing it before continuing softly, “let me take care of you.”
George practically melts at his tone, an entirely different feeling embodying him; there was no way he’d be cold anymore. He’ll still take the hoodie anyway, because then it would be like Dream was hugging him all the time. Fuck, he really wanted that.
Dream pulled the hoodie around his head and revealed a shirtless dog boy, something George wanted to touch and feel, hot skin that must be more like fire than the fabric. Something about naked cuddling feels like them, and George can’t wait to find out what that feels like. But right now he only cares about the green hoodie being delicately dragged down his head, drowning him for a moment before he snuggles his arms into the slots and pokes his neck through the collar, hood latching onto his head. It’s immediately warm, and it smells like Dream. George has to try his hardest not to duck his head into the collar and sniff his brains out. The only smell George really cared for was Dream’s, even if smelling was necessarily a dog’s thing, George could make it his thing too.
Dream can see George’s struggle and he smiles fondly, leaning forward to cradle George’s face in his palms that are already so hot, George can barely imagine what his chest might feel like on his face too.
“Go ahead baby,” Dream holds his face and slowly pulls it forward, curling George back into his own neck where George can breath against the taller’s pulse, inhaling deeply before exhaling out all his worries.
Usually Dream would shrug this type of thing off, find him a blanket and go back to sleep because comfort was never really something that was needed. George was used to often having bad mornings and dealing with it himself, then coming back to Dream whether he was cranky or not and living the rest of the day like it never happened.
Fuck, and it’s so weird but George loves it so much.
Instead of cramming his arms where Dream’s chest is, he decides to bring it around Dream’s waist instead, pulling the blond flush against him and body even closer. The heat of his lower back thrums against George’s palms like trickling fire, and George sighs at the nice feeling of skin against skin. He can feel slow movements just below his lower back, Dream’s tail wagging slowly and that makes George smile.
Something about Dream feeling good about this too, made it much better.
“Better?” Dream mumbles into his scalp again, running a hand along George’s back, George purring through the action. He hums a noise of affirmation along with snuggling deeper into Dream’s arms, longing and reaching for the brilliant warmth he’s needed for so long. He didn’t even know he needed it, but it’s so relieving to have. He thinks maybe he’d want it forever.
A few minutes pass by of them just holding each other, petting in various places, getting used to the warmness of each other’s body and skin, the hot breath that seethes against one another when it all clicks over again that they actually have each other. Dream moves his hand upwards from the boy’s neck once he’s positive George is content, and lets his hand run up and through his hair, stopping at the base of his ears and scratching kindly. The brunette was always sensitive there, so he shivers at the tingly touch, purring into Dream’s neck when he rubs at the right spot. Dream can’t help but laugh at his antics, completely in awe of George’s cuteness.
And they just stay like that, bathing in each other’s love.
George latches on with a grateful hold, and finally when he feels the time is right, he places a soft kiss at the base of Dream’s neck.
Dream’s tail immediately stiffens at the gesture, but eases into it and chuckles low. He returns the favor by leaving a long kiss on top of George’s hair, and George loves kisses, so he keens at the touch and arches his head further into the boy’s mouth who laughs in a startled manner.
George loves small kisses, but he would much rather have them on his lips. Lifting his head almost regrettably, he lifts his chin and steps on his tippy toes, holding on tightly as he gets a good look at Dream who watches him with every movement.
The blond’s hair is ruffled and his eyes are still droopy, tired but those same green irises sparkle with love and kindness; it’s such a soft look that also seems so kissable. George’s heart squeezes with how cute his boyfriend looks, and he’s slightly disappointed that they don’t get like this that often.
Maybe they should make it an often occurrence, George would be content with that. No, he’d be ecstatic.
Dream quirks an eyebrow after George stares for a while, causing the smaller to blush and wrinkle his nose with slight embarrassment. Unable to deny George’s precious beauty, without wasting another moment, Dream leans in and pecks the button of his nose, and George chokes on a giggle.
It’s what he wants, but it’s never enough, and he can’t help but ask for more. He deserves more after what he went through this morning.
“Please kiss me,” George yearns a silent breath, half coming out as a whine that usually Dream would reprimand him for, but right now Dream feels like giving him what he wants, which pretty clearly doesn’t mean teasing.
He shakes his head with fake disappointment and shuts his eyes, finally leaving a lingering kiss on George’s waiting lips, which he doesn’t reciprocate immediately because it doesn’t feel real, so he needs to fully digest that it is.
But as soon as Dream kisses at his lips again, smiling against him, George opens his mouth and kisses back, sighing into the touch with relief. Dream chuckles onto him and kisses him deeper, inhaling while he pulls George closer with the hold he has on his head.
"Fuck,” George hushes onto Dream’s lips halfway into the kiss, holding Dream’s lower back as he kisses him deeply, completely in a trance with the way his face feels on him, moving desperately against him. It’s domestic and strange but awfully affectionate and dear to George’s heart. It’s quick and filled with slick lips before George pulls away in desperate need for some breath, which Dream gives to him gratefully. He exhales hot breath onto Dream’s plush lips with an airy smile, blissful and way better than he felt before when he was aching the sight of Dream after feeling so annoyed that morning.
Dream chuckles and pecks the center of his cheek sweetly, humming into the skin. “Are you warm now, my love?” It’s low in his skin, rumbly and exciting. George giggles at the tickle of it.
“Very,” he hums with keen, scrunching his eyes shut and melting into the dog boy’s hold again. “Can we keep cuddling?”
“Of course baby,” Dream answers immediately, shuffling backwards and squeezing George’s hip as a warning before pulling away.
Even though George wants to whine, he decides to hold it in and pout instead when the warmth disappears along with his sleepy boyfriend- who could honestly just be described as awake after the buzzing moment between them. Dream looks gorgeous, pale skin becoming very more apparent when he stalks backwards.
His eyes scan the taller's body, sweatpants dipped low, exposing his v-line that disappears beneath he waistband, causing George’s eyes to drag upwards along each muscle up to his pecs, nipples perked up from the coldness of the kitchen. He flushes immediately at the sight of them, blushing and glancing to the side, that Dream notices right away.
He smirks at his adorable, flushed boyfriend, “Like what you see?”
A familiar tease embraces his tone and it makes George roll his eyes with a playful annoyance, something much more lighthearted than before. “Shut up, idiot.”
The smirk widens deliriously, but George doesn’t really notice, still so enthralled by the fuzziness of just being in his arms seconds ago.
The lowness of his next sentence surprises George. “You can touch if you want.” He offers, and George can barely believe it when it leaves his mouth.
And too caught up in the way he says it, and the way his own eyes shift quickly to the sight of what Dream is suggesting, George reaches forward with needy desire that all pools from the same, everlasting want for heat. But it’s too quick, and too impulsive, because Dream suddenly smiles and moves out of the way.
A sense of urgency strikes in Dream’s chest when he leans forward, wrapping his arms underneath the cat boy’s thighs and lifting him up, dragging a surprised yelp from the smaller. His weight is light when it comes to Dream, easy to carry when George wails his arms around Dream’s shoulders in attempt to ground himself, legs easily tugging around his waist as he is heisted into the air.
“Ah-!” he gasps with a giggle following right after, latching strongly onto his boyfriend’s muscular shoulders that hold him in an embrace, carrying him down the hall with heavy steps despite having just woken up 10 minutes ago. Dream laughs at his struggle to keep still and his success at deceiving him, tail wagging as his chest rumbles with a bubbly happiness that almost feels foreign between them.
He’s not sure if it’s a bad different or a good different, but all he knows right now is how good it feels laughing due to the authentic nature that stems from their easy-going relationship.
It seems like the teasing found its way back, the silly banter they always resort to, but George is still hoping there’s some intimate cuddles left in the day, and it won’t be the only time they get intimate either.
Once they reach the bedroom, Dream kicks it open with the ball of his foot, door opening immediately and closing shut when they enter. George still giggles helplessly as the tall man carries him, slumping into his arms because it’s the only thing holding him up, yet part of him loves how it feels to be light in someone’s arms, especially Dream’s.
He plops onto the bed with a soft thud, Dream dropping down next to him, weight becoming apparent with the dip in the bed that shows in the sheets. Once they’re both situated, Dream doesn’t waste another moment without tugging on George’s body and pulling him flush to his heavy chest, arm snaking around the smaller’s waist and holding him confined to his naked torso. George giggles at the newfound warmth of Dream’s body, and decides to turn around in the hold so they face each other, eyes widening with how close they are.
Dream looks at him with the most loving eyes, smiling softly that only proves that he’s so in love. George blushes and leans forward so he can bury his nose into Dream’s neck, sighing when he finally feels comfortable and safe. There’s no blanket draped over them, but it’s not like they need it, because the cuddling gives them all they want and more.
George’s arms are crushed between them and with nimble fingers, he grasps softly on the blond’s hot skin by his collarbone, spreading his palms to nudge his face deeper into Dream’s thrumming neck. His skin feels wonderful against George.
Dream’s chin balances on George’s head, eyes fluttering close with the same weariness from earlier slowing rising back up to the surface. George can feel Dream getting heavier the longer they cuddle, exhaustion creeping up to both of them, finally indulged with a warm, soft embrace that makes George feel more than happy to have his boyfriend.
It wasn't usual that George told Dream about his bad days, but the fact that he still knew precisely how to make him feel better was beyond George's knowledge. It was sweet, and beautiful knowing he was cared for, even if they didn't communicate that. They had their ways.
There’s not many more words spoken between them, just the occasional snore from the blond, but George denies them by delivering small kisses along his pulse that wakes him up, because there’s no way he could sleep through that.
“I love you,” George whispers at one point, coming out cracked and weak but entirely true. Dream’s ears perk up at the hushed phrase, something George never said too often. He reciprocates by pulling tighter on George’s lower back and swiftly entangling their legs together on the mattress.
“I know,” Dream mumbles into his hair, a teasing smile rising to his lips when George scoffs, voice muffled in his hot neck.
The brunette quickly tries to wriggle out in annoyance, smiling all the way through it when he coughs out, “Fuck you,” and Dream starts wheezing as he holds George in place, pinning him with a knee over his thighs, hand tight around waist when George pushes on his chest to get away. But dog-hybrids were much stronger than cat-hybrids, that was obvious. Even if they weren’t hybrids of any kind, Dream would still have an easy advantage, muscular arms and large legs that could outmatch George in any situation. Some days the size difference was comfortable and good for holding each other. But when Dream pissed off George, sometimes he wanted to climb him like a scratching post and body slam him to the ground- which was obviously unattainable.
George could only create a few inches of distance before ultimately giving up with a tired huff. He didn’t even do that much struggling, but with Dream’s protective hold, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to try.
The blanket of heat surrounding him chokes on a couple more laughs before dissolving into low giggles, kissing George’s temple as a silent apology.
“I’m just kidding,” he tells with a smile, and once he knows George won’t run away, already so smudged into his chest with soft breaths, Dream removes his arm and brings it up to the brunette’s chin, lifting it up so their eyes meet. “You know I love you, baby.”
Despite the hot, sizzling menace Dream was for saying that, George does know. And he still blushes at the pet name, blinking up at him timidly before sighing, content with the fact he doesn’t have a remark to spare for his annoying boyfriend.
“I know,” George murmurs with honest love, dragging in his bottom lip to nibble gently. Dream smirks and leans down to place one last kiss on George’s plump lips, who gasps into it before melting and kissing him back. When they pull away, George can’t help but smile. “I know.”
The buzz in the room grows louder, and the sounds beyond the windows grow muffled, once sleep starts taking up both of their minds. The last thing George clearly hears is the steady heartbeat of Dream’s chest, pounding the constant reminder that Dream will always be there, ready for George to jump into his arms and wash away all his worries. Perhaps bad days weren't so bad after all.