Chapter Text
It’s eleven-thirty in the morning and Dream is this close to sweating to death.
Being trapped in an un-air-conditioned car on a sunny day in August for eight hours with four others who are equally dying of heatstroke sounds like a kind of torture straight from hell. It feels like it too. The sun won’t stop climbing to its peak, sending unwanted heat. Even though all of the windows are cracked, it must be one hundred and two degrees in the car.
The five boys have been debating stopping at an upcoming rest area, just to escape the heat for a minute. After an eternity of waffling, George makes an executive decision.
“Ok, that’s it, pull over.”
The tires squeal as Sapnap turns into the exit at the last moment possible. Even though Dream had tried to brace himself, he still slides into George, in turn squishing George into Karl. Sapnap parks the car in as much shade he can find and the boys all tumble out. Dream swears he can hear his thighs ripping from the seat.
They all bee-line for the entrance to the rest area, letting out audible sighs of relief at the cold air curling enticingly out of the door. Inside, there’s a Burger King, a Starbucks, a musty-looking convenience store, and a shuttered burrito place. But the only thing that really matters is the air. A dry 68 degrees.
For a minute, the boys just stand in the entrance, letting the coolness sink in.
“So… should we get something to eat?”
-----------
They stay there for two hours.
There isn’t anything particularly interesting about this rest station. It’s slightly run-down and hasn’t been updated since the ’70s. Still, the five of them waste time poring over snack selections, debating the merits of each drink on the Starbucks menu, and eventually, scrolling endlessly on their phones, utilizing the crappy wifi.
It keeps being proposed that they leave in five more minutes. Truth is, none of them are brave enough to face the sweltering car under the midday sun. And so, a 15-minute rest stop becomes an afternoon excursion.
Finally, someone realizes just how late it is getting and they vacate the haven of air conditioning. Dream is both relieved and horrified at leaving. There are only so many times a person can read an informational brochure on the various types of fishing lures after all.
-----------
Hours later the sky has darkened, the streetlights flicking on. Dream is driving, having switched into the driver’s seat in the parking lot of a Sonic during their five-minute dinner and bathroom break, regulated in the interest of making up time lost to the rest area. It hadn’t worked, and they are still several hours away from the halfway point.
A local country station is set on low and the chit-chat has slowly faded out. As far as Dream can tell, none of the others have fallen asleep. They’re all just sick of this car and the constant road noise. A large blue billboard catches Dream’s eye.
“Guys, there’s a sign for a motel coming up.” He observes, breaking the quiet of the car. “Thoughts?”
Several non-committal noises echo in response. No one voices their opinion. Until-
“Oh, wait, they have free breakfast.”
Karl glares at Sapnap. “Is that really the deciding factor for you? Your stomach?”
“It’s a perfectly fine way to decide things.”
“Sap’s stomach aside, do we want to stop here for the night?” George speaks up, commandeering the conversation. “If we don’t, we should figure out who’s driving next.”
It’s silent for thirty seconds.
“I’m one for just driving all the way there.”
And the car devolves into chaos again.
“Quackity, that was never a viable option! Do you want us to end up in a car crash because someone passed out from sleep deprivation?”
“It beats stopping!”
“No, but guys free breakfast. Like eggs, pancakes, bacon, no cooking!”
“You don’t even know that it won’t just be cereal and sad milk!”
“I have a feeling.”
“If we’re stopping I need to know soon. Like, now.” Dream says, trying to steer the others back into productivity. It doesn’t work.
“You have a feeling? Are you kidding me?!”
“Ya know, if George hadn’t taken so long eating that burger, we could’ve made it to the halfway mark.”
“Oh, like this is all MY fault?!”
“I’m just saying!”
“We all chose to stay in the AC as long as possible, don’t give me that shit!”
“Not all of us.”
“Oh, screw off Sapnap. You can brag all you want about loving the heat, you were living for that AC just as much as we were.”
The volume picks up, everyone shouting to be heard over the wind and the others, voicing their opinions or just insulting someone else. Dream sighs inwardly and makes a split-second decision. He takes the exit and follows the signs, all while the others are still arguing. They don’t stop until Dream puts the car in park and practically screams “We’re here!”
He turns around to glare at the boys. “I’m getting out of this car and I’m taking the keys with me. It’s not moving until tomorrow. So you can sit here and stew or sleep in an actual bed.”
Dream climbs out of the driver’s seat and heads for the office, not checking to see if any of them follow him. Until someone grabs his arm. He twists around, ready to smack whatever danger that presents itself, only to find the four of them standing sheepishly in a clump, refusing to look at him or each other.
Karl speaks up first. “You were right. We were being idiots. I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” George says, nodding along with Karl.
“Me too.” Sapnap agrees.
“Hey-ow! Yeah, I’m sorry.” Quackity mumbles, after being elbowed by Sapnap.
Dream blinks. “Okay, well, anyway, should we go see if they have any rooms left?”
They all chime their agreement and walk towards the lit-up building light-heartedly bickering and laughing, back to a normal-ish.
The door dings when George pushes it open, alerting the one lady behind a desk in an otherwise deserted room. One of the overhead fluorescents is broken, strobing erratically. There are two dusty chairs, a sad-looking plant, and a coffee table with a Keurig and no pods. But the lady, somewhere in her mid-thirties, smiles kindly.
George stops short, not wanting to be the one to interact with her. Dream nearly walks into him, only resisting by grabbing George’s shoulders and stopping himself. Tingles run down George’s spine, but he ignores them. I’m just numb from that awful backseat.
Quackity steps up to the desk lady first, returning her smile. “Hello. We are interested in inquiring after two double rooms, one with a cot, and possibly the advertised free breakfast.” Sapnap makes a small cheer, which they all promptly ignore.
“I’ll see if we have anything available. And yes, breakfast starts at 7:00 a.m. and ends at 10:30 a.m. It will be right through that door,” The desk lady informs them, gesturing at one of a few doors lining the room.”
After a quizzically long pause, interrupted only by the typing of the desk lady, Sapnap clears his throat. “Is it that busy tonight?”
The desk lady finally looks up from her computer screen. “You boys are just a tad bit unlucky. There’s a soccer tournament in town, eating up most of our rooms. I’m afraid that we only have two left. One king with a rollaway, and one queen.”
Quackity turns to the others. “Well, that won’t be that bad, will it? Karl, Sap, and I will take the king and you two can have the queen.”
Dream and George both freeze. Neither looks at the other. Dream keeps quiet, but George just can’t help himself.
“Share a bed? With him?”
“Or sleep on the floor.” Sapnap unhelpfully adds.
“It’s just one night,” Quackity smirks. “You’ll survive. Probably.”
Dream still doesn’t say anything.
“So it’s settled then?” Karl hands the desk lady his card before any of the others have the chance. “Why don’t you guys go grab your stuff, and I’ll find you to give you your keys?”
The four of them trickle out, muttering various things and trying to remember where Dream had parked.
“You know, I could ask for a cot to be put in the queen room?” The desk lady proposes quietly.
“Nah. The two of them need this. You saw the way they look at each other.” Karl says, watching the boys’ retreating backs.
The desk lady leans over conspiratorially. “And they’re not together?”
“Not yet.”
“No cot in the queen then.”
They fistbump as she passes over the key cards.
-----------
“Those are your pajamas? Really?”
Dream glares at George. He did not just help this guy carry his ridiculously heavy suitcase up two flights of stairs just to be insulted for his sleepwear.
“What’s wrong with cats?”
“It’s that cat, in particular. Is it even a cat?”
Dream scans the offending shirt. He doesn’t think there’s anything particularly wrong with it. It’s a cat wearing sunglasses and playing with a beach ball. Or it’s supposed to be. He can’t even remember where it came from, just that it’s soft. “What else would it be?”
“Something lewd,” George snarks.
Dream smirks. “You would know, wouldn’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“Nothing,” Dream has to stifle the urge to laugh at George’s blush. “But notice how I’m not making fun of your sleepwear.”
There isn’t really anything to make fun of anyway. George is in a very oversize hoodie and black shorts. He’s practically swimming in the material, and Dream can’t tell if it’s intentional or not. He’s too distracted by George’s adorable sweater paws.
Stop admiring how pretty your best friend is.
They lapse into an awkward silence. Dream can’t tell who stopped talking first.
“Well, I guess we should get this over with, right?” George says, refusing to look at Dream while he speaks. He gestures vaguely at the bed.
“Oh, yeah, I- um, which side do you want? Or- alright then.” Dream proposes, trailing off as George collapses onto the right side of the bed. Dream watches as he shoves a pair of earbuds into his ears and pulls his hood over his head. A warm feeling settles in Dream’s stomach as he gazes at George snuggled in the pillows.
“Are going to sleep, or are you just going to keep staring at me?”
Before Dream can even formulate a response, George has rolled onto his side to face away from Dream. He’s balanced precariously on the edge of the bed, searching for the maximum distance possible from where Dream will be. With a small sigh, Dream pulls back the covers and lays down, facing away from George. The room feels odd now, no longer filled with their constant banter.
Dream doesn’t want to disturb George, but he can’t help himself. “Goodnight, George.”
He waits for a response, but none comes. Eventually, sleep pulls him under. But he swears he heard someone whisper, “Goodnight Dream.”
-----------
George doesn’t want to open his eyes. He’s warm and comfortable. He can feel the sun creeping in through a gap in the blinds, and lighting up the back of his eyelids. There’s an arm around his waist and a hand in his hair, holding him close. George snuggles deeper into their chest, enjoying the lingering wisps of sleep, when reality hits him like a truck.
Someone’s arm is around his waist. Someone’s hand is in his hair. He just cuddled up against someone.
Slowly, he cracks open his eyes, suspicions confirmed as recognizes the navy blue shirt with a poorly-drawn cartoon cat on it. It’s even softer than he’d imagined. Warm, up against his face. George doesn’t want to leave.
He is so fucked.