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Leaves lay dead on the ground outside the car, puddles of rainwater slowly drying up lie scarcely on the asphalt. A quiet bubble forms where the two of them sit, waiting for the stoplight to turn green to finally head home.
“Do you have plans for Valentine’s?” George asks, playing with the hem of his sweater on his lap.
“No, do you?” Dream asks, hesitation flooding through his words.
“Well…no,” he starts, “but that’s alright, we can just hang out with each other, right?” turning to his left to look at Dream. The blonde stares at George like he was an alien, eyes slightly widened and his mouth dropped open.
“Mhm, yeah, of course.” Ignoring the violent sparks forming in the bottom of his stomach, he grabs hold of the steering wheel again. He must’ve eaten something weird at the cafe they’d been to earlier.
“You good?” George asks, amusement flooding his expression. He pulls the seatbelt from the side and secures it with a click. The radio plays a cheery, upbeat song, tuned into a station that was well-loved by both of them.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he replies, looking at the brunette beside him, accusingly.
“I don’t know, you just looked,” he starts, glancing over at Dream once again, “affected by what I asked of you.” George smiles to himself, in the way that the other has grown used to in the past six years of their friendship.
His skin glows a mild shade of pink and his cheeks grow warmer, he rolls his eyes in the same old adoring manner and the antics of the Brit. In a form of distraction, he turns up the volume of the radio, the car shaking with the bass of the song and George covering his ears, a lighted expression of agony lining a shining face.
“Don’t you just love when the music is so loud that you can hear it throughout your body,” Dream teases, his mouth stuck into a seemingly unmoving grin.
“No, I in fact don’t,” George retorts, reaching a hand out to turn the volume back down, silence filling the air again, excluding the quiet beat of the song.
“Boo, party pooper,” Dream exclaims, voice holding barely any distaste. As if he could everreally be mad at George, but he’d prefer keeping that thought to himself. Their apartment awaits them, two cats probably roaming about in the living room and possibly some of their friends waiting for them to get back so they could hang out together.
George looks at him, a menacingly perfect smile plastered across his face. He turns back to gaze lazily outside the car window, sighing happily to himself.
“You owe me now,” he says, “because I’m going to be spending my precious, precious time with you tomorrow when instead I could be with a Valentine of my own,” George jokes, a lazy smile gracing his face.
“Come on, you asked to spend time with me, and who are you gonna find a day before the 14th?” Dream justifies, chuckling through it, “You say this as though we don’t literally live together.” He pulls into a driveway, a neat bed of flowers lining the sides of the cement pathways to the garage door. Stepping out of the door he walks to George’s side and waits for him patiently, smugness radiating off of his demeanour.
He scoffs playfully and ignores the blonde walking up to the porch and rummaging in the pockets of his hoodie for their house keys. Opening the door, he steps inside and looks back at Dream, standing unmoving next to the car, the sun beating down brightly onto grey asphalt.
Dream catches up to his thoughts and hurries to the door, clicking his key to lock the car. He’s immediately greeted with a soft body of fur moving its way near his feet. Bending to pet her, he notices Cat lying curled up on its bed, looking extremely comfortable in its place.
He looks up to notice George looking at him and Patches, a hidden smile making its way clearer by the second. He picks up the feline and holds her in his arms for a few moments before slowly shifting her into George’s outheld arms.
“Hi Patchy,” he calls out, softly, adjusting his arms to secure her properly.
A sudden warmth blooms in his chest, floating all the way until it reaches the tips of his fingers, reaching out involuntarily to stroke the cat and silently brush his hand against George’s. The brunette looks up at their sudden contact, warm coffee eyes meeting jade ones. Dream squints curiously at him before shaking his head smilingly and turning around to place the keys away.
George slowly lowers the cat onto the floor, following Dream into their living room and crashing onto the couch, retrieving his phone from the pocket of his pants. He scrolls through his phone calmly, sinking into the cushions behind him and extending his legs onto the couch.
“George,” he calls, shuffling closer to him.
George ignores him in favour of his for you page, scrolling past videos and laughing at them every so often. He shoves his legs onto Dream’s lap shifting into a more comfortable position.
“George!” he exclaims, snatching his phone from him to gain his attention.
“What,” he drawls, turning to sit facing Dream. The blonde receives an accidental shove in the ribs as George folds his legs together and rips his phone back out of Dream's hands.
Dream definitely does not grab onto George's hand to taunt him further, and definitely doesn't tug him just a tiny bit closer to himself.
"D'you wanna watch something?" he asks, leaning to pick up their T.V. remote off of the table. He throws a questioning gaze in George's way, waiting for him to say something.
“Hm, sure,” he decides, taking the remote from Dream's outstretched palm. He flicks through the different channels before he lands on one that doesn't seem terribly boring. Dream watches him from not that far off, his eyes unable to leave the soft curve of George's simple smile, or the way his hoodie; or well, Dream's hoodie hangs off his frame and the swoop of cocoa brown hair. Cheeks dusted with a light pink and a sprinkling of a few freckles here and there isn't something Dream could ever miss. He had to use everything in him to stop himself from reaching out, then and there, and smothering George with as much affection as he could muster.
The younger finds George looking back at him curiously, a teasing smirk building on his face. He doesn't let up on their never-ending staring contest that went unsaid, holding back a joyous smile.
"Well?" George asks, raising a dark eyebrow for effect. He leans his head onto the back of the couch holding his gaze from the corner of his eyes.
"Well what?" he questions, leaning back similarly as the other. He can't help himself but inch his palm forward, placing it straight on top of George's hand, lying on his lap.
George says nothing, keeping his eyes directed on the man close to him. Dream swears he could see George moving closer, but perhaps that was just the effect of a mind consumed by love for the other.
The brunette shakes his head all of a sudden, lifting off the couch and standing in front of it.
“Nothing,” he says, lips pursed and eyes transfixed onto forest-hued ones. "I have some stuff I need to do, for college, so—"
Dream's chest withers at the tone George spoke in. The blonde's voice catches dryly in his throat as he says, slowly, "Yeah, don't let me bother you," and watches him hurry upstairs and slam the door to his room shut.
He flops horizontally onto the surface of the couch and squeezes a cushion into his face. Letting out a pained cry he throws it away and rubs his face agonisingly. He twists his fingers into tufts of hair and sighs quietly. He'd be an idiot to think George would ever want something more; a hopelessly lovesick idiot.
Sitting upright again, he chooses instead to go on his phone. But alas, even that can't keep him away from the frustratingly attractive brunette. His lock screen opens up to a picture of the two of them, identical sweaters adorning their torsos, George's face pulled into a silly expression and Dream's into one of utmost fondness, eyes glued onto the other's.
He flips his phone, placing it face down on his stomach, his rapid heartbeat not helping his current situation.
*
After hours of falling in and out of sleep on their less-than-ideal couch, he finds himself standing behind a white door. He knocks twice on the hard surface, waiting for a response that didn’t come. He raps his knuckles against the door once more, calling out to him softly, still not receiving a reply.
“George, I’m coming in,” he says, pausing at the knob of the door before slowly turning it open. He finds George tucked into his bed, turned away from the entrance, facing the wall. He finds Cat now curled up at the foot with a pile of blankets surrounding the comfortable mass of fur.
“George,” Dream whispers again, words oozing with warmth. He walks slowly, steps feeling heavier by the second. Seating himself at the very edge of George’s bed, the soft comforter only adds to his feeling of drowsiness.
The man turns over onto his back looking Dream in his eyes and slowly sliding up against the headboard. Dream continues to observe the brunette and what he was up to, finding him pulling the covers closer to himself, and dropping the phone onto the nightstand beside him.
“Hi,” George says stilly, his gaze traversing over Dream, jumping from feature to feature. “Do you know what time it is?” he asks, a knowing smile taking over his lips.
“No…?” Dream answers truthfully, shifting more into the bed and stealing some of the blanket for himself.
“It’s 12:10, meaning it’s now Valentine’s Day, meaning that now you are obligated to spend the rest of the day with me,” he replies simply like it was something that went unsaid to the both of them.
“That is in fact true,” Dream laughs back, glancing at the alarm clock on the side that confirmed the time. Just as any other weekday, they had classes to attend to and homework to complete, but Dream wanted to make this day special even if they never were going to be anything more.
“Can I take you out somewhere?” he continues, inching his fingers closer to the other’s, not entirely consciously.
“Dream,” George teases, in an accusatory tone. “Wow, sure, let's see what you come up with," he says, lightheartedly. George slides cold fingers the rest of the way, hooking them onto Dream's, now-flaming warm ones. He entwines their hands together in his lap, then rests his chin on the tangled mess of skin and bones.
“Alright,” Dream mutters, his eyes transfixed at their palms glued together. His heart flutters heavy in his chest, a deep ache coursing throughout his body. “I’ll head off to bed then,” he decides, looking down at George, who is now making himself comfortable on the bed again.
“Do you have to go right now?” George asks, words coated in hope and eyes shining under the dimmed lights in the room. He holds onto the other’s hand just a little tighter, and wraps their palms up under the blanket.
“If I don’t wanna be walking around like a zombie tomorrow? Then yeah,” Dream says, chuckling at George’s actions. “I wanna make sure we have a great time tomorrow,” he continues, voice oozing with affection.
George laughs along with him, eventually nodding, “Fine then, night Dream,” he says, finally letting the blonde’s hand free.
Dream lingers for a moment longer, eyes searching the brunette’s before he hesitantly gets up and leaves, closing the door behind him carefully. He goes up to his room finally, immediately taking himself under heavy covers and shutting his eyes tight.
*
“What are we doing?” George demands, swinging his legs from the stool at the granite-topped island. He has on a simple red t-shirt, and if it was from Dream’s closet, no one would be surprised. His hair lies in wet locks, fresh from a shower, the clean, sweet smell of Dream’s shampoo wafting through the air.
“Since I want to make this the classic Valentine’s Day, I’ve reserved a table at this super fancy restaurant about 20 minutes away,” he says, grinning to himself proudly as he walks up to George, placing a plate in front of him.
“Fancy,” George observes, smirking back at Dream, he looks up and down at him once before looking away.
Dream laughs it off, seating himself next to George. This man is gone and there is no return.
*
The two of them sit silently in the car, the engine turned off and headlights shining bright. Clad in their nicest outfits, the restaurant stands a few feet away, a classy string of lights decorating the trees in the front.
Dream gets out of the car, inhaling deeply before walking over to George’s side. His mind runs at inhumane speeds, scrambling to cling onto a single thought, instead of settling to focus on the very pretty person in front of him.
“Hi,” George says breathlessly, a smile gracing his face. His hair swoops to the right, curling behind his ear gracefully. He wears a black button-down paired with fitted trousers, the blonde very obviously not being able to take his eyes off of him. George takes notice of this, smiling giddily to himself.
Dream just grins back in response, holding out his hand tauntingly, secretly hoping the boy would take it. His wish is granted when George slips his hand into his own, head turned the other way to hide the overwhelming flush on his face. They don’t say anything as Dream walks the two of them to the entrance, only letting go of the other’s hand when he absolutely had to.
Once at the table, he leans back into his chair, thoughts finally slowing down, and the hammering of his heart calming. Still unable to take his mind off of the angel in front of him, he gives in, relentlessly complimenting him under the guise of teasing.
George lets him, passing them off with laughs and rolls of his eyes, secretly enjoying it. They’re dinner goes amazingly, because why wouldn’t it. The two leave the restaurant, sides pressed against each other.
Cheeks flushed pink and hands cold they make their way to the car, getting in quickly and shutting the doors to keep away from the biting cold. Turning the heating on immediately, Dream drives them back home.
The car silent except for a few mumbled words and drunken giggles, Dream spends his time trying to convince himself that tonight had actually happened, unable to believe that he had really had the privilege to take George out. He sighs deeply, looking to his right at George, the brunette focusing his gaze outside. He was looking at a completely different George than the one who had run upstairs after whatever had happened that day.
If it was time needed, Dream was willing to give him however long it took him, whatever he needed, the blonde would be prepared to give him. After all, he’d still be happy with whatever he had now, anything to still have him in his life.
*
“Dream?” a voice calls, opening his already ajar door and meekly stepping in. A figure in black stands, phone in hand. Dream looks up at him curiously, George walking in to sit on the bed next to the blonde. He shuffles himself to lean his back against the wall and covers his legs with the blanket lying forgotten at the foot of the bed; and of course, Dream lets him.
“Yeah?” he responds, voice suddenly going soft. Incapable of stopping himself now, he moves himself to sit, flush against George’s side, tucking his legs next to the other’s.
“I just wanted to tell you, that I really enjoyed today,” his voice goes quiet to replicate Dream’s, fiddling with his own hands in his lap.
He looks up at Dream, shining eyes travelling his face for a key into his mind and his thoughts.
Dream’s words catch in his throat, a fluttering forming in his lungs ending with him reaching out to hold onto George’s hand for the second time that night. He immediately loosens his palms and traps Dream’s hand between them, soothing his knuckles with his fingers. Slowly, he slides his fingers to interlock with Dream’s, leaning into his side.
“I’m glad you did,” he says, surprised that he had the ability to even speak right then. He turns his head to catch ebony-coloured eyes peering back at him with wonder. George opens his mouth as though he was going to say something, only to keep it shut, breathing heavily.
Emerald eyes jump from his eyes, to the few locks of hair falling on his forehead to his lips, and unimaginable want seeping through his veins. Before he can say or do anything, the feeling of George pressed up against him hits him all at once. He moves to hold onto George’s jaw but before he can do anything he pulls away as suddenly as he had kissed him.
Dream stays frozen, unable to move, his heart pounding hard in his chest. He doesn’t see the panicked look on George’s face, scrambling to come up with something to say.
“I am so so sorry, I don’t know why I did that…” George whispers, dipping his head down to look anywhere but at the blonde’s face.
“George,” Dream murmurs, in the same sickly fond tone as always. He slides a hand under George’s chin and tugs him forward to face him. Wasting no time, he dips his head closer to the brunette until they were a hairsbreadth apart.
“Yes?” he answers, raising his hand to hold onto Dream’s wrist, grounding himself.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, no louder than what the two of them needed to hear.
George says nothing but pulls Dream forward by his hand and kisses him. Nothing happens for a moment, before Dream comes back to his senses and kisses him back. Their lips press gently to each other, neither of them in a hurry for more. The blonde wraps an arm around his torso, pulling him in closer and closer until he is practically in his lap. Pale fingers twist themselves into light hair, using it to anchor him closer. They kiss and kiss and kiss until they no longer know where each of them starts and ends.
He pulls away, sliding his hands to lie just under Dream’s jaw, their gazes never leaving each other. They pant hard, arms still clinging onto the other’s. Neither of them say a word, all that there is to be said had already been said through their kiss.
Dream lips break into a smile, holding onto George's waist and moving him closer, resting his head in the crook of his neck. He squeezes him before turning to look at him again, searching for George’s hands and holding them.
“You genuinely have no idea for how long I have wanted you to do that,” he says, shyly but surely. His thumbs trace figures into George’s skin, making everything even softer than it already was.
“Yeah? Well now you have all the time in the world to do it,” George whispers back, a beaming smile taking over his face.
“Really?” Dream asks, hopeful. He lets go of George’s waist to cradle George’s chin instead, the brunette’s arms instead settling to wrap around Dream’s torso. He presses kisses onto George’s forehead, already knowing this would become his new favourite thing to do.
“Of course, sunshine,” he replies, giggles bubbling throughout him, an overwhelming sense of happiness blanketing the two of them. It settles nicely at the bottom of their hearts, wrapping them in warmth and love.
Dream can only smile in response, shimmering purple and gold lines his heart and pumps through his blood. His soul feels lighter than ever, shining with happiness and gratitude.