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It had been three months since Dream had escaped from the prison, two months since he had freed himself from the Dreamon somewhere deep in the End, and one month since he had staggered up to George’s home.
They were deep in the woods. No one would be able to find them. Which, actually was a good thing. It also proved how incredible Dream was. George still remembered the sight of Dream only a month before. He was covered in blood and Dreamon marks. The Dreamon had continued to track him, continued to attack him and send beasts after him viciously to try to kill him. Zombie claw marks, spider bites, gruesome tears into his body at his chest and along his sides, in the soft flesh of his flanks where his ribs and hips had a gap between them. Attempts to try and kill him, to try and hurt him. To get rid of him, since he was a threat. But when he crossed into the boundaries of George’s homeland, the Dreamon and the mobs could go no further. They were trapped and stuck outside. They had no ability to move any further, which left an ill and wounded Dream stumbling through the woods until he reached George’s safehouse.
The memory of how he looked still made George shudder. As it was, he was currently looking at Dream as he tried to draw and Dream tried to do a push up. A single push up. Not one of the ones with his knees down, either, a full-on regular push up, which…he wasn’t going to be able to do. George knew how thin he was still. Knew how he shivered at night when they were curled around one another in bed and breathing in one another’s presence in the fact that they were alive, that they were breathing and okay. George had found the scars all over his body, found the injuries coating his skin as well. He tried to do what he could for Dream, but there was only so much that they could do when he had been in such bad condition for so long. He was scrawny, he was weak and malnourished and dehydrated and sick when he came in. George had nursed him back to help, patched him up and done his best to get him fixed back up. There was a lot of blood, lots of bruises. Oh, and a collapsed lung at some point, but that didn’t get treated at first. It did get treated eventually, when they were making out and all of a sudden Dream’s breathing shortened way too much and George pressed on his ribs and they sank into his body under the weight. Not fun. For either of them.
But he was okay, ish. He’d spent a week in bed, fading in and out of consciousness. Spent another week trying to get out of bed and moving around the room, trying to keep himself moving and trying to keep his blood moving. The week after that had been trying to get him downstairs and then out to the porch eventually. And now they were on the fourth week, getting him outside and walking around a little bit more. So they were sitting in the garden, or really George was sitting in the garden on a stump, with his sketchbook settled in his lap and then a charcoal pencil in his hand. He didn’t have anything to erase with, but that’s why it was a sketchbook. One made for charcoal, too.
Of course, Dream also would have another problem with doing a push up. That would be George’s cat. Mushroom. The dilute calico was someone who sort of just…appeared. She was a sweetheart, she popped up at some point and just curled up around when Dream escaped from prison. Like she had known somehow that he had disappeared from prison. Like she had known he had escaped. George hadn’t, he’d been sleeping the whole time. The news hadn’t arrived for several days, until Sapnap came by and asked him whether or not he knew about where Dream was and where he had gone. George didn’t have an answer. From what Dream had told him, he was meant to meet up with Punz. Punz, unknowingly, had made a deal with the devil. With the Dreamon. But when they got out of the prison, the pain got too much or something like that. The Dreamon had been forced back, and Dream went…somewhere. He didn’t remember, exactly. Or, if he did, he didn’t tell George what it was.
At any rate, Mushroom was being her usual self. AKA, a little shit. As Dream was trying and failing to get himself down and then up without faltering or falling down at some point, Mushroom kept pushing herself underneath Dream. She shoved her head against his jawline, purring loudly. Knees dropping down, Dream dropped his head forwards. Moving his hands over, he started petting her head. She purred even louder, somehow. Mushroom arched her back up and rubbed her back against his stomach. Laughing, George shook his head.
He glanced down at his charcoal and sketchbook. Then, slowly, he began to sketch out a little idea in his head. He needed to make Dream a whole new mask. Something to hide the Dreamon marks he was so afraid of. Because Dream had been avoiding his face. Trying not to get his face anywhere in his own sight. He’d been avoiding mirrors, so George had moved the mirrors away so that Dream could use the bathroom without having to worry about looking at his face.
George glanced down at the mask, frowned when he saw that the sketch had been smudged. He had charcoal smudged all across the side of his hand. Exhaling, George shook his head. Then, he closed it and looked up. Clicking his teeth, he set the charcoal pencil aside and started gently snapping his fingers. Bent down, he called, “Mushy, Mushy girlie. Come on. Come here.” He called out softly. Padding over, she butted her head against his hand and then slid around him, purring softly. Dream dropped down into the pushup, then shoved himself up. Eyes widening, he jumped up. Threw his arms up. Looking over at George, he grinned at him.
And then he immediately passed out, thumping on the ground.
Sighing, George pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.
+++
When George checked in on Dream again, he was awake.
Groaning, Dream touched his forehead. Leaning in, George kissed his forehead. “Hey, handsome.” George teased softly. Fingers curled around his shirt, and then he was yanked down to the bed. Lips found his neck and gently kissed along his jawline. Laughing, George propped himself up. “At least let me kick my shoes off, you idiot.” He teased softly. Huffing, Dream kept kissing his neck and his jawline. Hands settled on his hips, and George reached back and started tugging his shoes off to chuck them to the side. Mushroom was somewhere else, she was probably hunting for her own dinner. She’d been magicked not to hunt anything endangered and not to take more than she needed. She didn’t hunt to kill, she just hunted to eat. Which did mean that George and Dream were alone for the time being.
Not that George minded, of course. It just meant that he got to hold Dream a little tighter, that he was okay and fine. Feeling up Dream’s sides, George hummed softly. Pressed his nose into Dream’s hair and laughed softly when Dream’s hands shifted on his hips a little bit to hold him steady. “I love you.” Dream whispered, lips moving against his neck. Laughing, George pushed himself up a little bit and looked down at Dream. Smiled again. Dream reached up and touched George’s face, rubbing a thumb over his cheek and smiling at him a little dopily. Probably from smacking his head on the ground.
Leaning down, George gently cupped Dream’s cheek and kissed him on the lips. “I love you, too.”