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The moment Dream walked in the door, he knew he was going to be in trouble.
Sitting at the couch, facing the door, arms crossed over his chest and eyes narrowed, was George. And I’m dead. I survived the fight just to die here, at the hands of my own husband. He thought to himself. “Dream.” George began in a low, dangerous tone. Definitely dead. Very much dead. Or fucked. Or both. Probably both. He’s going to kill me, bring me back to life, and then kill me again, Dream realized. He was being dramatic. George wouldn’t hurt him even if he was possessed. They knew that from experience, actually. Not the best thing to admit, but hey. They didn’t have to worry if George was possessed. Somehow.
"Hi. George. Uhm…” Holding up his hands, feeling the haphazard bandages he and Sapnap had thrown over his fucked-up arms, Dream smiled weakly. “I’m home?”
Pushing himself up, George strode over to him. Normally, Dream absolutely loved their height difference. Because he was using it against George. But he also forgot some other things. Namely, the fact that George was a lot stronger than his body showed. He wasn’t a twink. He was more of…a twunk? Something like that.
Of course, it didn’t really matter what the term was, since it didn’t stop George from casually throwing Dream over his shoulder and then walking him to the bedroom.
Tossing him down on the bed, George went over. Nabbed the medical kit. And then he was sitting on Dream, straddling his waist to keep him still. Now, Dream wouldn’t protest this normally, in a very...different situation. (Making out, obviously. George wasn’t interested in more than that and Dream was nothing if not respectful.) Still, he wasn’t going to protest. George was taking care of him, that was what he wanted to do. So that was what Dream was going to let him do.
He was going to complain, though. Because alcohol wipes plus scrapes equaled pain. And a lot of it, because Dream had been dragged by a horse. “You’re lucky to be alive. Most people wouldn’t be.”
Cheerfully, Dream replied, “I’m not most people.” He shrugged. Then, George’s wipe brushed across a vicious scrape on his nose. “Ow. George, be gentle.”
“This is your own fault.” He replied softly. Looking over, dark brown eyes a mix of something fierce and soft at the same time, George sighed softly. Leaning forwards, he kissed Dream’s hair. Laughing, Dream gently touched his arms to support him.
“I know. But protecting you is more important than whether or not I get a couple slashes.” Sitting up, George gently grabbed onto Dream’s wrist and then held it up. Looking down at him, he arched an eyebrow. “Yes, that’s only a couple slashes to me. Have you seen me after a Manhunt?”
“Yes. I’ve seen plenty of it.” Pausing, George added, “I’ve done plenty of them, too.” He replied. Reaching up, Dream touched his cheek. Leaning into the touch, George took a breath. They paused for a little bit, just sitting in there in the quiet. Then, George opened his eyes. Added sharply, “You’re still not getting out of medical.”
“Darn, that was totally what I was trying to do.” Dream mock-groaned. Rolling his eyes, he settled his arms on his chest. Then, he let George do what he needed to do.
Within about an hour or so, George had finished up redoing the sloppy bandages, then brought in some food. He had some ice cream for himself and a full meal for Dream, who honestly was grateful for it. Because…food. It was good. Also, George had made it for him, so even if it tasted absolutely awful Dream wouldn’t have said anything and would’ve eaten it anyways. But it was a homemade chicken pot pie and tomato soup with milk. So it was really, really good. Amazing, actually. Not just Dream being a simp for his husband.
“Thank you, darling.” He said, looking at George as he ate. Leaning against the headboard, George snorted. Then, he pointed at Dream with his ice cream spoon.
“Mhmm. I’ll take that thanks when you’ve gone a week without having to get all bandaged up. You’re the unluckiest man in the world when it comes to that,” he scoffed softly. Then, he stuck the spoon back in his mouth, and kept eating quietly.
“Aww, George. You know that you love me.” George looked at him with narrowed eyes. Then, he settled back down. Smiled into the ice cream after a second, although he was clearly trying to hide it. Grinning, Dream turned back to his own food. Once he had finished, he moved over to George, who had set the now-empty bowl to the side. Turning, he crossed his arms. Rolled onto his sides. “George. Hi.” He whispered softly, settled an arm around George’s waist.
“I’m going to bed. Stop it.” George mumbled irritably.
“Oh, so I can lie on you and pin you to the bed?” Dream asked softly, resting his chin on the side of George’s neck. He moved his hand to rest it on George’s hip. Gently, George pushed his elbow into Dream’s stomach and threw him onto his back. Laughing, Dream looked up at George, who’d pushed himself up and looked down at him. He tipped his head to the side.
“I’m going to bed.” He replied, dropping back down and rolling onto his side. Looking at him, Dream scoffed. Shook his head and rolled onto his back. He was fine with George.
He just knew that they were going to be waking up with George clinging to him like a little monkey.
+++
He was right.
When Dream woke up, he had a very familiar weight on his chest. Smiling softly, he looked down at George. Fluffy, dark brown hair that was almost jet black brushed against the bottom of his chin as he looked down. Smiling softly, Dream rested a hand in the small of George’s back. He shifted in his sleep, pushed his head into Dream a little bit. Then, he jolted. Raised his head and looked to the side.
“Something’s up.” He mumbled softly. Then, putting a hand on either side of Dream, he pushed himself up. Swung his legs off of the side. Then, he stood up, hurried over to the door. Dream looked at him. There was movement out in the living room. Eyes widening, Dream pushed himself up in a hurry. Grabbed his sword from the nearest hook on the wall, spinning the hilt in his hand, as he hurried after his husband.
“George. George, no, get back here. George, you don’t even have anything to defend— George . Get back here.” He pushed himself into the living room. Looking out into the living room, Dream saw the door was open. Groaning, he tipped his head back. “George!”
Walking out the open door, Dream looked around for George. The sky was beginning to turn different colors from the dawn. George was sitting out on the bench, and Dream went over to his side. Looking around, Dream walked to his side. Cold concrete pressed into his feet, and George looked over at him. There was a fog from each of their breathing. Sitting down beside him, Dream looked around.
“It was just Patches. She wanted to go out, so I let her.” George explained, shrugging. Sitting down beside him, Dream rested his sword against his knee. Leaning over, George set his head on Dream’s shoulder. Reached out and found his hand. Dream wrapped their fingers together. “You want to stay out and wait for her?”
“Yeah, sure.” Dream sighed. Then, he turned. Kissed the top of George’s head. “You could have told me it was Patches, you know.”
“It was revenge for the other day.” There was a moment. Then, George explained, “When you brought the kittens inside.”
“That was Patches.”
“Mhmm, sure it was.”