Work Text:
The sun shyly crept in through the cracks in the blinds, bathing the body lying on the tossed sheets. In the mess of skin, linings and pillows, the yellowish color of the sunset matched the room decorated in shades of brown, light gray and white. Snoring softly, lips parted, George allowed himself to warm up for the end of the day, enjoying the silence of the campus. It was unusual, especially on a Friday, to find the fraternity so quiet, but when it did, they would certainly enjoy it.
He had taken to sleeping without a shirt because the Florida heat was too much. Which was ironic because, for the most part, George lay down exactly where the sun was hitting, just like a cat looking for attention, squirming in on itself. It was probably uncomfortable, but Dream would never wake him up to say that—he tried once, and George cursed him for two minutes because he had finally managed to fall asleep and was soon awakened.
George's pale back was streaked with brown dots, strewn like a map no one had likely drawn yet. In the late afternoon he seemed to get prettier.
In the other bed, this one a little more organized considering that the owner hated mess, Dream silently placed herself to analyze her friend. It was a rather odd, perhaps invasive, craze to stand there looking at him, especially with George so vulnerable, but his eyes just wouldn't focus on the open computer screen in front of him. Every now and then, when George shifted slightly to adjust his arm that was about to fall out of bed, still subconsciously trying to keep up with the sun, Dream held his breath in fear of getting caught doing something like that, getting caught looking too much, analyzing, but George never really woke up.
Their first meeting took place in the hallways of the college. While George was an easy-smiling senior, Dream was the freshman impressed by all that college life was bringing. The introductions were made by a mutual friend after the two ended up bumping into each other — Sapnap, George's acquaintance from the same places they'd frequented and Dream's friend since the beginning of classes, introduced them with a big smile and commented at the end of the conversation that he had a really good feeling about their friendship.
Sapnap wasn't wrong, Dream and George got along great. So well, in fact, that they now shared a dorm.
Sharing the same space didn't change their relationship much. It was strange, perhaps, to be so close, but Dream was still the same overly enthusiastic guy and George was the same infectiously laughing guy. They were in the same room, they lived together, the intimacy was different, maybe not that much, but enough for them to get closer.
Dream liked to be close. He liked to touch, to cuddle, to share his body heat with others. George was a little skittish at times, he wasn't always in the right mood to share himself, but Dream could read him better now and they rarely ended up in awkward situations because of that.
The room wasn't big enough that each other's spaces didn't collapse from time to time. George had an affection for blue, after all it was one of the only colors he could see perfectly, and this could be easily seen by his choice of decor. Dream, on the other hand, didn't really have a certain pattern, but he certainly ended up preferring shades of green to George's horror—he said the color was so haunting to see first thing in the morning that it was offensive.
Dream sometimes considered wearing blue for George so he wouldn't have to worry about anything but the lull of his favorite color. But as if he knew exactly what Dream was thinking, however, George always ended up commenting after complaining that somehow, even though he couldn't really see the color in its true form, that the green matched Dream.
George, who hated being seen as merely kind for some reason, was always the most considerate of them. Dream didn't know exactly what realizing it had done to his heart, but he knew it couldn't be simple.
"Dream?" George's low, husky voice roused him from his thoughts. Just then Dream realized he was staring, silently.
"Y-Yes?" he cleared his throat, trying to hide his shame.
"What time is it?" George seemed to ignore his awkwardness, stretching on the bed, his skin twitching, his muscles relaxing, the sounds of satisfaction escaping him softly.
Dream immediately stared at his computer screen, eyes focused on the small numbers on the lower side.
"Five o'clock PM." his voice was measured, shaky "You dozed a lot."
"Um, I think so." another yawn, and suddenly George was on his feet, one hand scratching his stomach lazily. "But I still don't think I got enough sleep."
"You never think you got enough sleep." Dream rolled his eyes but cracked a smile. His eyes immediately flew back to the computer screen as George rose.
Dream watched George's faint shadow move across the room along with the sounds of his feet dragging across the carpet. He got something in the closet, probably a shirt, went to the door and left for a few minutes. Alone in the bedroom, Dream finally had the courage to look up and realize that George had probably gone to throw the trash away. A little odd considering that George usually needed to be reminded to do this kind of chore on a daily basis, but Dream knew that he also sometimes just acted weird. George returned a few minutes later and stopped right in front of Dream, the late afternoon seeming to slip through the door he opened.
As soon as George entered the room, Dream had immediately turned his attention to his notebook, pretending he was immersed in his research.
"What are you doing?" he questioned, his tone strangely neutral.
The sun had finally disappeared over the horizon, their room was now lit by the somber blue of the night that had just begun and Dream's computer screen.
"I need to research some things for my paper." he muttered, nipping at the bottom lip of his mouth.
George didn't move, remaining there in front of him. Dream instinctively swallowed, feeling nervous all of a sudden. George was doing absolutely nothing, but he couldn't stop shivering.
"Can I sit with you?" George spoke suddenly, startling him a little.
Dream finally looked up at him, finding George properly dressed but with a small smile on his lips, serene as he bathed in his favorite color.
"Of course you can." Dream forced his reply, smiling tightly.
George again ignored the fact that his voice sounded different and moved closer. Dream initially thought he would just sit next to him, maybe make some comment about his research that clearly wasn't going all that well, but George suddenly laid his head in his lap, gently pushing the computer away, nose buried in his lime green T-shirt, eyes closed.
Dream controlled a nervous cry. George just took a deep breath and relaxed.
"This is much more comfortable." George muttered against his stomach, so close that Dream could perfectly feel the heat of his face emanating through his clothes.
"George?" he whispered, cheeks burning, not knowing where to put his hands.
He didn't respond, just mumbled a confirmation, not the least bit concerned. It was as if George had absolutely no idea what he was doing with Dream, whose hands were shaking in the air, his arms aching from holding an invisible weight at that moment, almost as if he were holding his own feelings for the man in his lap. Dream could feel the heat of shame settling between the bones of his face, warming his skin pale from lack of socialization with the outside world. George was close in an almost incomprehensible way, almost cruel. It was as if he existed to torture Dream.
Of course Dream understood perfectly well that George wasn't cruel, that he would never do something like that with malicious intent, but his mind just couldn't stop looking for someone to blame his nervousness on. Because, of course, Dream was in love with George, and even though George didn't know it, he couldn't just do things like that! It was mean, being so close and presenting himself to Dream knowing that he couldn't take him in his arms and kiss him until he came apart between his mouth, that he couldn't hold him tight, maybe a little possessive, and mutter words of admiration against the dotted skin.
"Dream?" George opened one of his eyes and pulled away from Dream's stomach, looking at him in confusion but with a relaxed expression.
He stared back at him with his arms in the air, flushed, maybe out of breath. George frowned.
"Dream?" he sat up as fast as the lethargy of his muscles allowed, still too close. "What's wrong?"
Finally noticing what he was doing, Dream took a deep breath and lowered his arms, ignoring how the sudden gust of air made his lungs scream for the invasion. Even so, he couldn't answer George, after all he didn't have much to say, at least not much that wouldn't end up putting them in an uncomfortable situation.
"You're shaking, Dream." George whispered, moving closer. Dream had his back against the wall, and George was right beside him, hip touching his but facing away from him. He took Dream’s left hand and placed it between his, confused "Did something happen?"
George had his legs together, placing himself close to the wall so he could get as close to Dream as possible. It looked uncomfortable, it was a lot easier for him to just turn around and sit next to him normally, but George was genuinely worried about him, so Dream decided not to comment on his position.
"I-It's nothing." he whispered, unable to get his hand out of the cage that was George's warm fingers against his skin.
"You are lying." George snapped back immediately, his brows furrowed.
Dream was usually a good liar, but George was too close and it was like he could see every bit of the lie running down the mask that Dream couldn't put on his face in time.
"Perhaps." he decided to say, too stubborn to admit that George was right.
He rolled his eyes.
“You've been weird for a few weeks. You barely speak to me either. Did something happen?" he lowered his face, trying to meet Dream's green eyes that avoided his "Did I do something wrong?"
"No way." Dream was quick to respond, glancing back momentarily just to reassure him that this wasn't a lie.
With a sigh, George shook his head "So what's up?" he said a little more impatiently, maybe nervous. Dream wasn't underhanded, he rarely behaved that way and not having straight answers always irritated George a little “Is someone doing something wrong to you? Problems at home? Are you sick?"
Dream ended up laughing at the incessant questions. George's concern was as gentle as a summer sunburn—and just as insistent.
“No George, no one is doing anything wrong with me. My family is fine. And, no, as you can see, I'm not sick.”
George frowned again, dissatisfied.
"But you definitely look sick."
“I don't— Listen, I know what I'm feeling, okay? And I'm not sick.” Dream sighed, finally releasing his hand from George's and using it to smooth her blonde bangs out of his eyes. "It's not a big deal, really."
George stared at him for long seconds, still looking deadly frustrated by his lack of cooperation. Dream thought that by now he had developed some sort of mechanism capable of making him stop feeling so nervous when George looked at him like that, as if Dream was the only thing he saw in the world, but apparently he was completely wrong. George's dark eyes seemed to hold him in place, judging his every single movement and reaction. Dream would like to know what George was seeing in him at that moment.
“You…” George grunted, annoyed “If you don't want to talk about it, fine, I understand, but you don't have to pretend it's okay. It's annoying."
Dream laughed, his chest filling with affection at George's thoughtfulness.
“You really don't want to know. This is one of those situations where curiosity kills the cat, Georgie.” Dream teased, certain that George would eventually drop the subject.
But Dream must have said something that only encouraged him, because suddenly George's eyes lit up with a different urge.
"So let the cat die, now I want to know." he said quickly, leaning closer.
"G-George!" Dream had to turn his face away from him, fearing they'd end up too close for his self-control "That's not how things work!"
“You shouldn't have talked about the cat, now I'm curious. What happened? It can't be that bad.”
"There's nothing to talk about cats!"
“You yourself just said that curiosity killed the cat, and I said let it die anyway. I want to know now.”
Dream sighed, suddenly tired. George was weird when he was suddenly excited like this, but undeniably adorable too.
"I don't know if I want to talk about it." Dream muttered.
George was quiet then, so quiet that Dream could hear his heart beating against his chest.
Having had a final word, Dream hoped that George would finally drop the subject out of respect for him. And really, George didn't say anything else, though he didn't move either. On the contrary, in reality: George just stood there, staring at him, waiting for Dream to do the same, for him to finally look back.
Dream, for all the courage he swore he had, in that moment became the most cowardly man in the world.
"Dream." George whispered, the tone pleading.
He had to repress a tired sigh.
“George, I already said I don't want to talk about and—”
"Dream." he suddenly sounded annoyed, genuinely annoyed. In surprise, Dream raised her head immediately, and with wide eyes stared at George, who softened the moment he received an answer from him, smiling "There you are."
The tenderness in George's voice seemed to ooze like honey, sweet and extremely sticky, making Dream feel even more embarrassed than he already was. He craved it, craved it so much he looked almost like an addict.
Suddenly and without hesitation, George's prominently boned hands touched his face. His fingers were always cold, but after capturing Dream's hand earlier for so long, they were now warm against his face, holding him up so they faced each other. Dream held his breath, gulped two or three times nervously. George had never been this close, had never touched him so intimately. This was a completely new situation for him.
"You think about things too much, Dream." George whispered, gently smoothing his bangs away from his face, still very affectionate.
"I'm restless." he replied without thinking, blinking his eyes over and over to try to focus on George's words and not on one of his hands that was now gently scratching the back of his neck.
"This too." George chuckled, leaning closer. "What I'm trying to say is that most of the time you ignore the obvious by thinking too much."
"George." Dream whimpered, suddenly sensitive, the shivers leaving him boneless against George’s fingers.
George chuckled low, his smile sly and almost naughty. He seemed more teasing and irritating that way, but just as irresistible.
"Tell me Dream, aren't you the best?" George's voice, once bathed in tenderness, now seemed to ooze malice, cruelty. "Best in class, best in basketball team, family pride, so smart, such a good man."
The compliments didn't seem kind, but Dream knew George was teasing him. At once it was as if his legs became restless, his breathing even heavier and hotter. Dream felt his body boil. George was still smiling, oh so sweet, but Dream knew him.
“Everyone's dream, the true university prince, ‘tsc…” George shook his head. He stared at Dream as if he was starving and Dream didn't know what to think about that look “And yet you ignore the obvious.”
Dream took a deep breath, pressing his hands together feverishly.
"The obvious?" he said lowly, almost a whisper.
George nodded, satisfied.
"That I like you too, of course."
Before Dream could even react to what he heard, George had his lips pressed hard against his. It was as if all the tension that had built up in his body until that moment had dissolved, melting him completely in George's hands.
The insistence of the kiss seemed to convey George's concern and feelings. He didn't let Dream rest, reaching for his mouth between pauses too short for him to get all the oxygen back, pulling and biting and sucking every bit of lip or skin he could reach, leaving marks on the pale skin. Dream for the first time in his life felt completely beside himself, his body shaking from the constant stimulation, throat letting out pathetic sounds of appreciation and submission.
It was as if he had been submerged in a type of liquid that allowed his lungs to function. Floating, but at the same time being held insistently by George's hands. Dream was barely aware of the slight tremors in his body, not even the way he was gripping George's shirt tightly, looking for a steadier anchor in him.
Dream used to think George was delicate — he was shorter than he was, much more likely to be irritated by the smallest nonsense. At that moment, however, George seemed like a presence capable of destroying Dream, especially with his light hands moving across his skin, squeezing gently, moving Dream exactly as he wanted, as if Dream was his to play with, his to nibble and kiss as much as he wanted.
And maybe Dream was just that.
"You are so silly, Dream." he chuckled, finally letting him breathe for more than five seconds.
George, however, just seemed to give him time to breathe because he wanted to admire the damage he inflicted on Dream up close. Sometime between the kisses, Dream started to tear up from the excitement and now that he'd finally calmed down, his cheeks were glistened with tears and embarrassment.
"Aw, Dream." George cooed, and the gentle contact and his tender tone of voice made Dream start sobbing softly. "Was it too much for you, love?"
George had kissed him. Dream should probably be very needy. Or he just loved him too much.
"Y-You're terrible." Dream whispered, almost voiceless.
"Yes, I am very mean." George giggled again, settling himself behind Dream so he could lay Dream's body on top of his "The cruelest person you know."
They were silent then, Dream catching his breath and trying to control his low sobs, George was just standing there with him, smoothing his hair gently, planting little kisses on the back of his neck — even though he was careful not to overstimulate him again.
"Do you really like me?" Dream muttered and finally calmed down.
George smiled, nuzzling Dream's hair with his nose, taking in his scent.
"Of course I do, Dream, I thought it was obvious."
"B-But you never said anything." he grunted, suddenly sulky.
“I thought you wanted a break, or maybe you weren't even really looking for a relationship. You are the best in your class after all. You have a lot to do, and finding a boyfriend isn't always good at this point in life.”
Dream sighed, but finally nodded, relaxing into George's embrace.
"So if I asked, you would be my boyfriend?"
George couldn't help but laugh again.
"No Dream, I casually make boys cry when I kiss them because it amuses me."
"George!"
"Sometimes you're such an ass." George lightly nibbled the back of his neck, chuckling again as he heard Dream's low moan "But it's okay, I like you just the way you are."
Dream thought about retorting, thought about starting another silly argument, but George went back to planting little kisses on the back of his neck, over the bite, and suddenly he couldn't remember anything else.