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Last year, George refused to be Dream’s valentine, but this year, that will change. After the infamous stream of Dream throwing bottles on his floor in frustration, he made George promise him that they would be valentines the following year.
And George agreed.
Now that George is finally in the US, Dream thought it would be a good idea to do some sweet stuff for him in person. Which led him to this current moment, the night before the 14th.
The situation is perfect: Sapnap is out of the house visiting Karl.
When he told Dream that he would be leaving, he gave him a not-so-discreet wink to which Dream rolled his eyes. Sapnap, after getting his fill of teasing Dream, scurried off to his room like an eager puppy and holed up in his bed for the rest of the night, sitting in vc with Karl.
Anyway, Sapnap is gone, George will be home all day tomorrow, so it is the perfect chance to do something nice together for the holiday. Only one problem though, George doesn’t seem to remember his promise.
It isn't like he forgot about the holiday entirely, he still mentioned it in passing, talking about couples he saw on his Twitter feed, but he hasn't mentioned anything about being Dream’s valentine.
Dream, currently checking his closet to make sure he has what he needs for tomorrow, tries not to let this worry fester in his mind. Luckily for him, the front door opens right then, and he runs out into the main room to greet George like he always does.
“Glad you're home; now you can finally help with dinner,” Dream says, grabbing George's coat from him and hanging it up in the closet beside him. The occasional times that George helps him prepare dinner are his favorite; the domesticity of it all leaves a sweet feeling lingering in his heart that he savors for the weeks that follow.
“Sure, let me plug my phone in first, and then I'll be ready to cook!” George replies, passing the grocery bags he had been holding to Dream. The blond nods and lets him run off to his room while he unpacks the bags.
George returns shortly, now wearing more comfortable clothes (which Dream thinks he looks adorable in). He joins Dream at the counter and takes the knife from him, bumping him with his hip to get him to move. This is how it always goes, George does the chopping, Dream does the rest.
Dream, being more of a protective person, usually finds himself worrying about George possibly slicing his finger, so he keeps watch out of the corner of his eye.
George finishes chopping and adds all the vegetables to a bowl, passing it over to Dream. He goes and sits down at the table, letting Dream take over from here.
Dream makes quick work of cooking the dish and in 20 minutes, it's complete. George's eyes shine with excitement when the hot meal is placed in front of him, thanking Dream.
“I will say, I think the vegetables I chopped really make the dish,” George says, clearly teasing.
Dream rolls his eyes but responds with a fond, “yeah, you always make everything perfect.” The words hold a heavy weight to them, and Dream wonders why he lets them slip out so easily, but it seems George doesn't notice. He gives Dream a sweet smile, cheeks bunched up and red.
They continue eating, talking about mundane topics like how their day was and video ideas. Once done, they conjoin in the kitchen, working together to wash the dishes. George washes, Dream dries.
Later in the night, they migrate to their rooms, sleep taking over their minds. Though George falls right to sleep, it takes Dream a bit to calm his nerves, afraid something will go wrong tomorrow.
He drifts into a restless sleep.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The next morning he wakes up, excitement tinged with worry coursing through his veins. He jumps out of bed and makes his way to the kitchen to set his plan in motion. He wants to start the day off with something special, so he decides to make pancakes in the shape of hearts.
He tries to make pancakes using George's recipe, though he messes up at first and has to remake it. He doesn't worry too much about it, though, since George always sleeps in, so he has time to remake it.
The second time around they come out nicely, he uses heart cookie cutters to get them into the proper shape. It works perfectly, and he smiles at his accomplishment, hoping George likes them. He spreads some Nutella on the ones for George and cuts a few strawberries into hearts, placing them atop the pancakes. He thinks they look rather cute.
He pours a glass of apple juice for George and goes over to his room, making sure to knock first before entering. When he hears a muffled, “come in!”, he opens the door.
There, sprawled out on the bed looking comfy as ever, is George. Dream tries to ignore the butterflies that flutter in his belly when he sees that the brunet's shirt has ridden up, exposing soft thighs and a pale stomach.
“I- uh, brought you breakfast! For Valentine’s Day.” he shuffles over to the bed awkwardly, handing the plate to George and putting the glass of juice on his side table. George looks at the food and smiles.
“It's all hearts! I love it,” he says softly, turning up to look at Dream.“Thank you.”
Dream blushes at the sweetness that drips from pretty pink lips, nodding as a way of saying, “you're welcome, I’ll make you cute pancakes every day if it means I can see you smile like that.”
He leaves then, letting George enjoy his food in the comfort of his room. Dream, on the other hand, eats standing at the counter, letting thoughts of strawberries and cream run wild in his mind.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The day goes by somewhat quickly, but to Dream's dismay, George remains holed up in his room. He knows it shouldn't bother him this much, after all George has no obligation to hang out with him all day, but he still wishes he got to see him. His worries about George forgetting settle properly in his mind now, but despite it, he still wants to confess to George.
As the sun sets, he decorates the table, draping a pink tablecloth over it and setting a nice vase of pink roses in the center. He cooks up his second meal of the day, taking extra time to make sure it's perfect.
When it's all done, he heads into his room and changes into his outfit for the night: a tuxedo. He thinks it might fit the more romantic mood. He also takes the bouquet of blue roses out of his closet and plucks one out, tucking it into his suit pocket.
With one final glance in the mirror, he makes his way to George's room. He stops outside his door, trying to collect himself and praying that nothing will go wrong, that George will accept the flowers and the dinner and his love.
It's terrifying.
He knocks.
Within seconds, the door opens, and Dream nearly screams.
“Ye- oh! You're all dressed up,” George giggles, smiling at the outfit. Dream blushes and braces himself.
“I was wondering, since it's Valentine's Day and you're my valentine, would you join me for dinner?” He asks, voice shaking. He pulls the bouquet out from behind his back, presenting them with quivering hands. He hears George gasp.
“Of course! And these flowers… they’re so pretty, thank you Dream,” he directs his smile at Dream's face now, and Dream positively melts.
“I’ll be out in a moment, I just want to change first.”
Dream nods, letting George shut the door. He returns to the kitchen to wait.
Five minutes later George comes out, and when Dream sees him, his heart stutters in his chest.
He looks beautiful.
He has tucked one of the flowers in his hair and it matches with his skirt, both a deep blue color that makes him look like the waves in the ocean when his hips swayed. He's also wearing a simple white sweater and his fuzzy socks from earlier stayed on. Dream is convinced he has hearts in his eyes.
George looks to be holding something behind his back, but he doesn't show it to Dream until he sits down at the dinner table.
“I uh- got you some things for Valentine’s Day; it's nothing crazy but…” he trails off, cheeks aflame. Dream hums in acknowledgment, buzzing with excitement.
First, George pulls out a single rose. “I thought you might like it; I know roses are your favorite. It's not as grand as the bouquet, so I'm sorry about that.”
Dream hushes him, “No, I love it; thank you.” he takes it into his hands as though it were made of glass, and he replaces the blue rose in his pocket for the red one.
He thinks it looks better anyway.
Next, George takes out a little box of candy hearts. “This one's a little cliché, but it's a Valentine's staple, so it felt right to get it.” Dream grabs the box and opens it, popping a candy into his mouth.
It tastes like lemons.
And finally, he pulls out the last item. A letter.
“I have a hard time saying how I feel out loud. I mean, you know that, so I thought I'd try writing it down. That's why I was in my room for most of the day, I was trying to figure out exactly how to word things,” his smile is shy when he passes the letter over. It's sealed with wax, a little classic “Dream smile” etched on top. Dream thinks it's the sweetest thing in the world.
So sweet in fact, that he starts crying.
He couldn't believe it, he spent the whole day worrying about George forgetting his promise, meanwhile, the brunet was putting all his effort into a letter sealed with a symbol of Dream. It’s too much to take.
“I- wow, thank you, George,” he says, and his eyes are watering, and his smile is wobbly, but George knows he's genuine.
“I actually wanna tell you something, not to steal your thunder or anything but I’ve been planning this so…”
George gestures for him to continue.
“I love you. I thought I should tell you today since it's a day for lovers. You don't have to feel the same, but I-”
He’s cut off by George getting up and pressing his lips to Dream’s. It feels euphoric almost, like the final buildup in a song, where every instrument in the orchestra is crescendoing and then finally, the climax.
Dream cries harder, and the saltiness of his tears mingles with the lemon sugar in his mouth, and George tastes like peach chapstick and sunshine. He thinks he could stay like this forever; it feels like a fantasy.
“I like you too, idiot; I actually confessed in that letter I gave you,” he giggles and it's the sweetest sound in the universe.
“Oh.” is all he can bring himself to say. He feels a little stupid, naturally, but in all honesty, he can’t find it in himself to care, too wrapped up in the lingering feeling of George’s lips against his.
“Yeah ‘ oh,’ now quit being an idiot and kiss me again,” he demands, lips turned up in a smirk.
And kiss him he does.