Chapter Text
Fate could be so cruel sometimes.
It didn’t start that way though. It never does.
After years of waiting for his visa to be approved, it finally arrived in the mail last week. George had been positively giddy with excitement, when he called Dream to share the news. His heart rate skyrocketed during the discord call, to the point where Dream’s voice, which normally calmed him, had the opposite effect.
He was going home. Finally, after years of waiting, he was going home
George could still remember Dream’s first words when he had shared the news, after the initial excited screaming. They sent a pleasant shiver through him every time the memory resurfaced.
“George, when you finally arrive here," Dream's voice sounded through the phone in George's shaking hand. "I’m going to be at that front door, ready to welcome you with open arms.”
Truth be told, George was looking forward to holding Dream more than anything else. Feeling those arms wrapped around him, finding out what Dream smelled like, how his hair felt, if Dream's eyes looked green or yellow because of George's color blindness.
The day before George left, in an attempt to distract himself, he had darted around his apartment, collecting the most cherished possessions to pack into his suitcase. The knit GeorgeNotFound plushie, his Youtooz, his chef’s coat and hat, and of course, the most precious of all - the tiny rose quartz elephant. As he ran his fingers over it’s smooth edges, a blush crept into George’s cheeks and he sighed, remembering the day Dream bought it for him"
One and a half inches, Dream," George said, a smirk on his lips.
Dream gasped, "What?!?"
And George knew even without having seen his best friend's face that Dream was blushing.
Then the text came.
It startled George and he almost dropped the tiny figurine, but caught it just in time and slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie.
Sapnap: did you get your ticket already?
George raised his eyebrows. What kind of question was that?
George: of course I did, my flight leaves early tomorrow morning
Sapnap: ugh, this sucks
George: what happened?
Sapnap: it’s Dream, he’s got Covid
The air left George’s lungs in a fierce whoosh and he backed himself towards his bed, where he could collapse onto the soft mattress. After the initial shock wore off, he picked up his phone from where he had dropped it onto the bed and typed out a reply.
George: how sick is he?
Sapnap: really sick, high fever, can’t taste or smell, and has a nasty cough. he won’t end up in the hospital, but, well, you know -
Dream was under quarantine. And George couldn’t see him for a whole week. Possibly longer if he wasn’t recovered by then.
George: can I still move in?
Sapnap: yeah, the house is big enough, we can wear masks and you can stay in the guest room that’s farthest from Dream’s
George: what if I wear a mask?
Sapnap: i asked dream, and you know what he said
George: that he doesn't want me getting it
Sapnap: yeah
George: so I can’t see him
Sapnap: no :(
Tears welled in George’s eyes as he fell sideways onto the bed and gripped a pillow to his chest. His body shook with sobs and he cried himself to sleep, not caring that he still had packing to do. He could finish in the morning.
Maybe Dream would be feeling better by then.
He wasn’t.
Standing on the threshold of the Dream Team house the following afternoon under the hot Florida sun, George glanced down the hallway at Patches. Without a word, Sapnap, a tight mask over his face, took his suitcase. Their footsteps echoed on the ceramic tile floor, making the expansive dwelling feel more like a hollow cavern than a home.
Once George was inside, Sapnap gently closed the door behind him, then stepped back to distance himself.
George turned back to glance at his friend over the top of his own mask. “No improvement at all?”
“Well, his fever is down a little, but he still has that bad cough and is super tired.”
“I feel bad.” George walked into the living room and collapsed onto a soft leather couch. “All those nights this past week, staying up late and talking about everything he wanted to show me when I got here – he didn’t get enough sleep.”
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it.” Sapnap sat on the other end of the couch. “If he hadn’t stayed up all night talking to you, he would have talked to me, or streamed and talked to his chat for hours.”
Patches came in, hopped up onto George’s lap and began to purr contentedly as he stroked her soft fur.
George looked up for a moment. “You never told me though, where he got it from.”
“I’m not sure,” Sapnap shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what’s weird about all of this. Dude hasn’t left the house, at all, in months.”
George’s hand froze and Patches let out a soft mew as she turned to look up at him. “But you… you leave the house all the time.”
“Well, yeah. To go grocery shopping and stuff. But I always distance, and wear a mask when I can’t.’
“And you haven’t been anywhere else? Or seen anyone else?”
“I mean, I saw Karl last weekend, but he’s been healthy…”
“Nick!” George’s voice rose an octave and Patches jumped onto the floor. “He probably had it and was asymptomatic. Just like you probably are.”
“Oh.”
George turned and looked up the stairs. He’d never been here before, but he knew the layout as well as if he had lived there for years already. Every detail, every photo, every video that Sapnap and Dream had shared after moving in, George had committed to memory.
Especially Dream’s room.
He wanted more than anything to go in there right now, Covid be damned, and pull Dream into an embrace that had been years in the making. To comfort him and stay with him until he got better. But as guilty as George felt about being the possible reason why Dream was sick, he knew that feeling would be multiplied for Dream if he got sick.
He couldn’t bear to break his best friend’s heart that way.
So he waited. For seven long days George and Sapnap took turns eating alone in the kitchen, spending the rest of their time either distanced on the couch watching movies, or on the computers in their rooms.
George had offered to bring Dream water and soup two days after he arrived, when the effects of his jet lag had lessened, but apparently Dream had made Sapnap promise not to let George into his room. Something about not wanting his best friend to see him this way.
“I don’t get it. He’s seen me when I was sick.” George scoffed while he disinfected the kitchen countertops and Sapnap watched from the doorway. “I mean, if we both wear masks, it should be fine.”
“Who knows.” Sapnap shrugged his shoulders. “Although if it makes you feel any better, most of the time when I go up there, he’s buried under his covers to the point where even I can’t see him.”
“Hmm.” George glanced up the stairs again. Maybe… if he waited for Sapnap to go to sleep, he could sneak in Dream’s room and -
“Don’t even think of it.” Sapnap glared at him.
“Think of what?” George feigned innocence as he tossed the disinfecting wipe into the trash.
“Sneaking in to see him.”
George huffed as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Spoilsport.”
Five days later, George couldn’t take it anymore. Not being able to hug or cuddle anyone but Patches left him so touch-starved that every nerve buzzed under his skin. He needed, ached for any physical contact from his best friend.
George thought it would be easy- after all, he'd gone years already, what was a few more days? But knowing Dream was there, behind that door at the end of the hallway, so close yet so far, killed him inside. It didn't need to be much, either. A simple handshake would be enough if that was all Dream had the energy for – although he knew Dream wouldn’t settle for something as mundane as that.
Why would he?
They both needed more, deserved more.
And Dream had to be feeling better by now.
Late that night, while Sapnap’s snores echoed down the hall, George tiptoed to Dream’s room, careful to avoid the spots where he knew the floor would creak.
Once outside the door, George took a deep breath, slipped his mask over his face and turned the handle.
The room was enormous.
Obviously Dream had the master bedroom. Clean white shelves lined the walls, filled with trinkets and fanart, backlit by lime green LED lights. On one side of the room sat Dream’s elaborate computer setup, eerily silent. On the other, a king sized bed with what looked to be a nest of blankets on it.
George crept closer, not wanting to disturb Dream. He just wanted to take a quick peek, maybe brush the hair from his forehead while he slept.
And then he would leave before Dream even knew he was here.
Yet, as he drew closer, he noticed that the mound of blankets wasn’t moving. Panicked that Dream had stopped breathing, he quickly closed the distance to the bed and pulled the covers aside.
The bed lay empty.
“George?” A scratchy yet familiar voice rang in his ears like a symphony and he spun to face the door.
There, dressed in a Sooners T-shirt and flannel pants, hair falling in messy waves to his shoulders and eyes softly glowing in the moonlight – stood Dream.
Without a mask.
And he was beautiful.
“Dream?” George took a cautious step towards the doorway, then rubbed his eyes, certain he was hallucinating. “Is that really you?”
A wide smile stretched Dream’s mouth and his eyes glazed over with tears. “I could say the same thing.”
“But.. you’re sick. Why were you out of your room? Are you okay?”
“I’m actually feeling a lot better. I was just in the kitchen, getting a drink of water. I’ve been okay for a few days but wasn’t sure if I was still contagious so I -”
George ripped off his mask and dashed across the room, not giving Dream a chance to finish. Dream held his arms out, anticipating the motion as George dove into them.
“You’re real.” Tears welled in George’s eyes as he buried his face in Dream’s shoulder. It smelled like Vicks and cough syrup, but George didn’t care.
It was real. He was real.
They held each other close for what felt like hours until Dream pulled back and brushed a stray hair from George’s forehead. George shivered at the touch, at the feather-light sensation of Dream’s fingers on his skin.
George reached up to do the same, and Dream’s hair, although damp from sweat, was still surprisingly soft, like goose down.
“You know,” Dream smiled, arms wrapped around George’s waist. “You have no idea how hard it was to stay in here, knowing you were just down the hall. But it… this... was so worth the wait.”
George looked up, in awe of the way the moonlight illuminated the spray of freckles on Dream’s nose. He wanted to stay here forever, to memorize every inch of Dream's face now that he could see it, touch it.
Maybe even kiss it someday.
"I'm just..." George looked up into Dream's eyes "Now that I have you in my arms, I don't ever want to let go."
“Me neither.” Dream grinned. "Wanna cuddle? I've got lots of blankets."
George blushed as he pulled close again, Dream’s t-shirt soft and cool. "I thought you'd never ask."
Dream led him to the warm nest of blankets on his bed and he settled there, warm, comfortable and completely at ease for the first time in years.
It was funny - despite living for in this house the past week, being in Dream’s arms, right here, right now - George finally felt like he was home.