Work Text:
It is thirty minutes past midday when Dream hears a timid knock on his door followed by a shy-looking George walking in wearing one of his oversized hoodies.
Dream swivels around in his office chair to face him and immediately notices the pink lamb plushie clutched between the brunet’s sweater paws; a telltale sign that George is regressed. His brown eyes are fixed on the floor and Dream wants nothing more than to wrap the boy in a warm hug.
“C’mere baby,” Dream pats his lap as an invitation to step closer. George accepts and settles on Dream’s thighs with a sigh, nestling his face in the crook of Dream’s neck. The plushie is dropped haphazardly onto the floor.
Dream holds him close to his chest and rests his chin in brown hair. “Are you feeling small, Georgie?” Dream asks softly, receiving an expected nod in response.
It is unusual for George to slip so early in the day, as age regression is mainly a way for him to fall asleep. But Dream is definitely not opposed to the idea of getting to spend more time with little George in an awake state rather than a sleepy one.
“Papa,” George whines into his neck. He kicks his legs around lightly, making the office chair shake. Dream chuckles into his shoulder and holds him even tighter.
“What’s the matter, baby? You bored?” He runs a hand across the brunet’s back. Another nod in response. Dream swivels his chair back to face his setup and reaches an arm out to switch off all three monitors. No more work, for now.
Then, he shifts George in his lap so he can look at his face. Dream can only smile when he sees his pouty expression, and his grin only widens when George crosses his arms in childlike defiance.
“Don’t laugh at me,” he says with the same whiny tone from before, his British accent coming on stronger than usual.
Dream has to bite back a laugh at how serious he sounds. He smiles kindly instead, “I would never laugh at you, baby.”
George doesn’t look too convinced, but he uncrosses his arms and moves his hands down to fiddle with the strings of Dream’s sweatpants instead. The pout on his lips remains, though.
Dream brushes a thumb across George’s cheek. “Wanna do something fun? Maybe watch TV?” He asks, applying a slight lilt to his voice.
George looks up, pout replaced with a hopeful smile. “TV with papa?”
Dream can’t hold back the fond laugh that bubbles out of him. “Yes, TV with papa. Does that sound good?”
He receives a vigorous nod in response along with a harsh tug at his sweatpant strings from George's sudden excitement. Dream gently pries the fabric out of his small hands and takes one of them in his own bigger one to hold.
“Alright, let's go,” he eases them both to stand and lets George eagerly lead them to the living room. They get comfy on the couch, George in Dream’s lap once again, and find a show to watch. Dream clicks on Paddington after George points to it and mumbles a sweet, “teddy bear.”
The blond lays a hand on the brunet’s belly underneath his spacious hoodie. He rubs small circles just firmly enough so it doesn’t tickle. His free hand is held by both of George's sweater paws for the duration of the film, pale fingers playing with his big fingers.
George coos and gasps as Paddington goes about his bear life and Dream’s heart tightens with love at every small sound. He kisses the boy’s temples as often as he can, eliciting the cutest giggles from the boy when he does.
Three pm rolls around.
“Hungry,” George says quietly, and Dream wastes no time in granting his wishes. He lifts George gently off his lap and walks to the kitchen to fetch a couple of child-friendly snacks: grapes and a bowl of sweet crackers.
End credits are rolling by when the blond returns to the couch. George is sitting bunched up in blankets watching the screen intently even though the words probably make no sense to him at this point. He looks up when Dream settles down beside him and immediately makes grabby hands towards the snacks.
“Here you go, honey.” Dream settles the two bowls between them, “Don’t eat too fast, okay?”
George already has two grapes in his mouth and a cracker in his hand but nods anyway as if he understands. The blond chuckles to himself and runs a hand through the boy’s dark hair. “You’re so cute.”
The rest of the afternoon goes by, consisting of two more movies and lots of cuddles. Dream can tell that George is getting tired and he tries his best to hold him just right so he’ll fall asleep without any fuss.
But George does not want to sleep.
He squirms around in Dream’s lap after the third movie ends and squeezes Dream's hands continuously in an attempt to keep himself busy enough to stay awake.
The blond sighs, “I know you’re stired, baby. Want me to carry you to bed?” he takes both of the boy’s hands in his to hold them still.
George shakes his head firmly. “Not sleepy,” he mutters like it's a fact, but the wide yawn he lets out just after begs to differ.
Luckily, Dream has a few tricks up his sleeves in preparation for a situation like this one.
He stands, picking the boy up with him, and starts walking out of the living room. George starts whining and kicking around in his arms right away, “Not to bed! No—”
“We’re not going to bed, Georgie.” Dream reassures him and kisses his shoulder, successfully calming him down. He carries him into the kitchen and sets him down on the counter.
Once his arms are free, he gets to work on his plan. George watches with tired curiosity, just relieved he avoided the dreaded bedtime.
Dream sets a small saucepan on the stove, fills it halfway with milk, and turns the heat on medium-low. Next, a mug is brought out from the cupboard and placed next to George. “Don’t touch it yet, okay?” Dream tells him.
The boy nods and just looks at it instead, tucking his hands under his thighs to resist the urge to reach out and grab it. It is his favorite mug: sky blue dotted with snowflakes, and with two handles to hold.
After a few minutes, Dream lifts the pot of warmed milk off the stove and pours it gently into the blue mug. It is not steaming hot — just temperate enough to (hopefully) lull a certain someone to sleep.
To finish off the drink, a teaspoon of honey is stirred in, something Dream vividly remembers his grandmother doing for him when he was younger. Once the milk is an even, slightly golden color, he picks up the mug and holds it out to the brunet.
He untucks his hands and takes the cup with wide eyes, glancing up at the blond for reassurance. “Drink it, baby. It's delicious,” Dream draws out the last word temptingly. George takes a sip and then another and soon his eyes are drooping and the milk is all gone.
“Feeling sleepy now?” This time he receives a nod in response. So, Dream takes the mug from the boy carefully and picks him up to finally carry him to bed. George makes no fuss and just lets his head rest on the blond’s shoulder.
Dream tucks his baby into bed and presses soft kisses on his forehead and one on the tip of his nose to make him smile. Before he leaves, he fishes a pacifier in the same color as George's favorite mug out of his pocket and presses it gently to the brunet’s lips.
He takes it easily and lets out a happy, but very drowsy, hum.
Dream takes one last look at the peaceful boy and smiles. “Goodnight, darling,” he whispers before walking out, making sure to leave the bedroom door slightly ajar.
Warm milk with honey never fails to pacify an overtired little George, and pacifiers help, too.