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It was finally happening.
After so many years of fantasizing about embracing in a noisy, bustling airport together on Discord calls, Dream and George would finally be meeting. Finally.
Dream was panicking, in a way, as he rushed around his apartment to clean up anything he didn’t already, Christmas music airing through the house and somewhat calming his racing nerves. His thoughts were muddled with the desire to please George, as well as trying to make everything perfect for his own personal sake, too.
He liked to think he did a good job, with one hour left to go get George at the airport, the floor spotless and the Christmas glowing pleasantly from the front entrance hallway, giving a warmer feeling to the already-warm apartment.
He liked to think he cleaned up well, too, wearing an outfit George had expressed his obsession with; the simplest of outfits, just blue ripped jeans and a red lumberjack flannel. But the Brit had explained how it really reminded him of Christmas, of baking cookies and cuddling up under a warm blanket by the fireplace.
Dream had the biggest smile on his face upon hearing George’s stories, each and every one.
As soon as he reached his front door and was almost ready to grip his doorknob and open the door to the biggest change ever, he swiped one last hand through his hair and glanced at himself one last time.
His hands shook as he gripped his steering wheel, only worsened as he pulled into a parking space near the extremely bustling building that held a certain foreigner. They shook as he strode up to the airport entrance, as the doors slid open around him and his eyes immediately began searching for a certain brunet man he’d been longing to have in his arms for too long now.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to read George’s message, “At baggage claim!!! I’m losing my shit right now!!!!!!”
Dream couldn’t help but grin, typing back a couple heart emojis before lifting his gaze to the nearby conveyor belt veiled by the backs of people.
His breath caught as he found fluffy brunet hair, his heart beating in his chest as his feet began to move towards them.
The figure turned around, catching his eye and breaking out in a grin similar to his.
They ran to each other, disregarding the people they bumped and pushed past in favor of arms they each wished to be consumed by.
They finally met, arms tangling to wrap around each other’s waist, Dream’s cheek resting on George’s head as he breathed a sigh onto the fluffy hair he laid his head on. He could feel George breathing against the thin black shirt he also wore with the flannel, could feel his hands tracking across his back in comforting shapes.
A tear slipped from the taller’s eye as he whispered, “You’re here, George.”
The Brit pulled away, smiling a similar wet smile as he repeated, “I am. I’m here, you’re here-”
“We’re here together,” Dream interrupted, burying his wettened face in feather-soft plushness again. “My god, I can’t believe it.”
George chuckled against Dream’s chest, reciprocating, “Neither can I.” There was a shaky breath before the smaller added, “We should probably move, we’re probably in people’s ways.”
Dream wheezed, filling George’s heart with an inexplicable amount of joy and love as it brought back so many memories that he thought would be reserved only for staticky calls and gaming sessions they shared.
The feeling was mutual, Dream’s heart alighted as he pulled away and could finally observe the sharp features of George, namely the cheeks that were dusted with a lovely pink. And he smiled at it, receiving a giggle and a cocked brow in response, but he didn’t respond, choosing to hug George again.
It felt too surreal to him, standing here with his best friend of so, so many years, the one who made him laugh and smile all those times he thought he couldn’t; the one who made his heart flutter with the simplest rare passing of the words “I love you” from his cotton-candy lips; the one who could brighten his day as soon as Dream opened his stream to his face, all milky smooth skin and stunning smile and shining umber eyes.
“Dream,” George groaned, craning his head up to view the other, “You’re practically suffocating me right now!”
Dream pulled away, laughing again. “Sorry, sorry. C’mon, let me get your stuff for you.”
“Oh, you’re the gentlemanly type?” George questioned playfully as Dream gripped the handles of his suitcases, nudging the blonde. “I should’ve listened to Sapnap’s tips to dealing with you.”
“You should’ve, I’m, like, the most gentlemanly guy,” Dream attempted to say with a straight face, but as giggles bubbled from the other’s mouth he couldn’t help his own. “What’s so funny about that, George? Do you not like gentlemanly guys?”
George laughed as they strolled out the doors, saying, “Actually no, I love them. They’re the best.” His eyes slid to Dream’s, and the blonde’s heart practically short-circuited at the pretty sparkle beneath long lashes.
He coughed into his fist before questioning, “Oh really?”
George only hummed, his gaze lowering to the ground before suddenly guffawing. “What the hell are those shoes, Dream?”
Dream looked down, then scoffed. “They may or may not be the ones from the rewind video,” he said slyly, arching a brow as a teasing smirk slipped on his lips. “Aren’t they amazing?”
“No,” George replied bluntly, face revealing a look of disgust. “Those are the mustiest damn shoes I’ve ever seen, I swear.”
As Dream unlocked the trunk he feigned hurt, placing a hand over his heart as he dropped his eyes. “So mean already, Georgie.”
He shoved George’s suitcases in the back as the brunet went around and to the driver’s side, and he laughed as he informed George, “Wrong side, Gog, you’re not in the UK anymore!”
Coming back around, George dealt a shove to the taller’s shoulder, sticking his tongue out childishly. “I knew that.”
“Evidently not,” Dream cooed in response as he slipped into the driver’s seat, sneering in George’s face.
“Personal space buddy,” George said with a giggle, backing up against the window with his hands over his chest.
The drive to the house was eventful, to say the least, George peeking his head out the window and getting his hair messy, all the while screaming whatever Christmas music had come on the radio with Dream.
And Dream had the thought that maybe this was his own personal idea of paradise; finally being with his best friend, sharing IRL moments together like those, being able to see and touch the other.
The only thing he thought could’ve made it better was being at home and snuggled up with the very brunet, seeing as Florida was actually somewhat cool in the winter, a rare occurrence for the Sunshine State.
They finally pulled up to Dream’s apartment building parking lot, George running his hands through his hair with the biggest smile on his face. “That was so much fun,” he said excitedly, glee visibly running through his veins as he hopped out of the car.
Dream was absolutely smitten, practically feeling his heart glow at the other’s obvious contentment and pure, unbridled happiness.
Unloading and getting George’s stuff to Dream’s apartment took a little long, seeing as he’d brought a lot and they had to climb 6 flights of stairs because of the elevators that were inconveniently being worked on at the time.
With that, they both immediately collapsed on the couch as soon as the suitcases were set aside and the front door was closed.
Heads knocking painfully, they both shared a laugh as they stared at the popcorn ceiling, words sitting adamant in their mouths as the silence spoke for them.
Bliss filled the room with no verbal or physical help.
“You’re here,” Dream lamented, head shifting to gaze at George, who bit his lip with watering eyes.
“Quit it,” the brunet whined, scoffing. “You’re gonna make me cry again, Dream.”
The blonde laughed, sitting up as George did. “Didn’t take you for the crying type, George,” he commented, wheezing at the weak punch he was gifted. “Definitely took you for the weak type, though.”
“I hate you,” George replied with a contrasting smile, looking away with a face dusted in pink.
“You know you love me,” Dream cooed as he leaned closely towards George, gasping as two hands planted on his cheeks and pushed him away. “You can’t hide from the truth!”
Leaping on the smaller, Dream grasped the wrists that shielded George’s face from the other, tugging until they finally slid away from the other’s face.
Saying George was red would be an understatement.
“Aw, is little Georgie embarrassed of the truth?” Dream taunted, snickering as George huffed.
“It’s not the truth, I do hate you,” George attempted to retort, but to no alas as Dream tickled his sides, fingers dancing on his hips and abdomen.
Dream laughed as he said, “Really now?”
It felt so natural, what with the way each boy’s heart was racing at the sight and actions of the other; George’s nerves lit up every time Dream’s fingertips danced at the hem of his shirt, and the blonde’s mind went fuzzy as he neared the brink of milky, flawless skin.
They finally settled down, but not without a few more sneaky tickles here and there, huffing with erratic breaths as they glanced at each other, giggly and bubbly as viridian connected with chocolate.
Domestic. Glorious. Everything perfect in the world.
“Hot chocolate?” Dream proposed shortly, a grin cracking as George erupted into another fit of giggles at the other’s bluntness.
“You’re like a caveman,” George commented, but stood with a nod as he replied, “But yeah, I’ll take some hot chocolate.”
And standing around a marble island with steaming mugs of chocolate delight, Dream resolved that George was beautiful.
It only became more prominent to him as they stood on his balcony, the unusually cold air biting pale cheeks and tinting them a lovely pink, a shade nearly matching the lips he couldn’t shake the thought or image of.
Bundled in different blankets, Dream had never felt so close to his best friend, even after holding the latter in his arms in a crowded airport; seeing the laugh he could only ever imagine over call, seeing the features that so many of their combined fans gushed over, seeing the happiness in expression rather than relying only on verbatim guarantees and words.
It’s almost as if he could see the world in colour only when George arrived.
After George deemed it too cold to stand on the balcony further, though to Dream’s great dismay, they flopped onto the couch together again, beaming smiles slipping on their faces mutually.
“Am I dreaming right now?” George said tiredly, a yawn wracking his words momentarily.
“Not quite,” Dream replied quietly, giggling at the awestruck look swirling in the other’s brown orbs. It painted the blonde in awe, as well, gazing at the sharp nose and fluttering lashes and rosied apples of the other’s cheeks that utterly fascinated him.
He couldn’t be more perfect.
Dream’s eyes suddenly leapt to the radio perched on the coffee table, which had been steadily pumping out pop Christmas music until then, shifting to a classic, much slower song.
“Wanna dance with me?” Dream asked, tilting his head to look at the other, ignoring the faint ache it caused in his craned neck.
He stood, holding his arms out wide with an expectant smile, melting at the golden glow of the Christmas tree lights in the reflection of George’s eyes, complementing dark brown so well.
“I suppose,” George agreed nonchalantly, and yet again his contagious smile defied his attitude, tenfold as he slipped his hands onto Dream’s waist, glancing to his shoulders purposefully. “Hands on my shoulder and hip, Dream, let’s get on with this.”
Dream didn’t feel like mentioning the mistletoe they stood underneath just yet.
“Okay Mr. Bossy Pants,” he joked, leaning closer, close enough to smell the faint scent of cinnamon on the other, wafting off pleasantly. He snickered at the blush that creeped up the other’s neck, soft crimson against marble complexion, his own almost matching what with the way George was looking at him then; so intense, filled with a pooling feeling that Dream couldn’t place just yet, much to his dismay.
George giggled, resting his head on Dream’s breast as he breathed out, “Never call me that again,” shaking his head, tickling Dream with the wisps of brown hair that scratched his stubbled chin at the action.
Could his heart have been warmer?
I don’t think my heart could be warmer.
The glamour present in milk chocolate as soon as George lifted his head nearly made Dream combust, internally swooning as heavily-lidded eyes gazed at him irrevocably.
So Dream tucked his own burning face into the crook of George’s neck, smiling against smooth skin as George’s hands tangled into his hair, words whispered from British tongue, “You okay Dream?”
“I’m perfect,” he replied quickly, pulling away with a brimming grin, his ten millionth of the day. “I’m so good right now.”
“Really?” George questioned unsurely, a chuckle slipping from those velvety lips. “You’re really red.”
Dream snorted, looking away for a moment. “I know,” he said embarrassedly, feeling the blush get hotter and hotter.
“And why are you red?” George asked, curiosity showing past his casual tone with a sly smirk.
“No particular reason,” the blonde mustered out, smiling weakly as the other linked his hands on the nape of his neck, tugging slightly on the ends of blonde locks. “Ow, that hurts!”
George just laughed, shaking his head. “No, it doesn’t, you big baby. And c’mon, tell me why you’re red, Dream!”
“No,” Dream retorted, hands still planted on George’s hip and shoulder, though his grip tightened as his hair was yanked again, though much more forcefully. “Okay, okay! I surrender!”
“Tell me,” George said lowly as he pulled Dream slightly closer, their noses nearly knocking together.
Dream tries to block out the mistletoe they stand under for the moment, instead focusing on the lightest splatter of small freckles on the other’s skin.
“You’re just really pretty, is all,” Dream whispered, hiding his head again, only to be pulled back by that giggle he’s heard so many times before.
“Am I really?” George questioned, lifting a brow and the corners of his lips.
Dream rolled his eyes in response, scoffing as he said, “Surely you know, it’s not like you’re not acclaimed for your ‘pretty privilege’ all the time.”
“Mm, I don’t think I do,” George hummed, a smile creeping across his lips. “But by all means, keep telling me about how pretty I am, I don’t mind.”
“You’re insufferable,” Dream said, but there was no denying the soft fondness and warm honey lacing his words as he stared at glistening brown eyes.
“But pretty.” George giggled as he received a pinch to the arm, giving one back in response.
A light blush settled on Dream’s cheeks as he whispered, “But pretty,” and he relished in the similar red that took its place on George’s cheeks.
“How do you say stuff like that so easily?” George questioned delicately, lying his head against Dream’s shoulder and breast. “It just slips out of you and you don’t even get nervous when saying it.”
“Who said I don’t get nervous saying it?” Dream asked with a light chuckle, resting his chin atop George’s head, smiling contentedly at the sweet scent wafting off of it. He smells so nice. “And it’s honestly just how I am, you can ask Sap.”
He felt George laugh against his sternum, a light touch to his breast sending sparks and warmth flowing through Dream’s chest. “I kinda expected you to be that way, anyways,” George agreed, pulling away with a small smile.
And there was a moment, a wordless moment spent gazing from brown to green, green to brown within decorated walls and cold flooring. Warm arms were wrapped around each other, beckoning their bodies closer with gentle pushes and pulls as they shared a smile warmer than the fireplace that filled the oddly comforting silence in the room.
It was then Dream wished he didn’t live in Florida, but rather a place where it was actively snowing; he wished he lived in a place where he could stand outside with George in his arms, looking at cold-bitten cheeks while snow landed so delicately on the lashes that veiled wonders galore.
He didn’t fully register their noses brushing at first, not until a breath was ghosted across his lips as George whispered, “Do you want this?”
Dream took in lips curled up in a smile so close to his own, took in small freckles he hadn't noticed before, took in a shine amongst dark brown.
He wanted it. So he took it.
Surging forward, Dream connected their lips delicately, taking the time to take in George’s lips on his as his hands moved to cradle slim hips. Small hands cupped his cheeks then, a thumb caressing his cheek bone as George sighed into the blonde’s lips, smiles pressing against each other clumsily.
Dream giggled between their lips as he started swaying them to a more upbeat Christmas song that came on, heart stuttering at the radiant cheeks and grin the other adorned as he slightly pulled away. “You’re such an idiot,” the Brit whispered before kissing Dream again, threading his fingers through blonde locks.
“Your idiot,” Dream replied sweetly as he took a breath, brushing his nose with George’s. “Did you notice the mistletoe I took the time to put up?”
George giggled, glancing up. “I did. Were you planning on kissing me or something, Dream?” he questioned teasingly, smiling as Dream scoffed.
“Maybe, maybe not. You’ll never know,” Dream said, poking the other’s nose. “So, how’s Florida been so far?”
George feigned disinterest, looking around with a smirk. “It’s been okay, I guess,” he said, rolling his eyes before his hips were tickled. “Quit it, Dream!”
“Not until you take it back,” Dream said, grinning as George clutched his shoulders with a contagious laugh erupting from his throat.
“Maybe you should change my mind,” George suggested, quirking a brow up as Dream wheezed,
“You are something else, GeorgeNotFound,” Dream reflected, eyes glancing at George’s lips. “How about another kiss, hm?”
George giggled, nodding enthusiastically. “I’m good with that.”
And Dream did, planting his lips on the others again, heart hammering as he smiled bigger than he ever had before.
George was breathless as he decided, “Florida is amazing.”
“Glad you think so,” Dream said, glancing to the doorway. “What do you say we make cookies?”
“I’d love that,” George agreed, running off to the kitchen with a giggle that Dream could feel similarly bubbling up in his chest.
Homemade euphoria painted them as the days passed, cheeks never aching more as they smiled for hours on end. And to think that they’d never get here, that at one point they thought they’d never meet, that they’d never have hearts exploding with love and happiness on a dreary Christmas morning in Orlando beneath warm blankets and each other’s arms.
It was a dream of George’s, and he could say happily that his dream did come true.