Archive of Our Own

Over the years, Dream had come to accept that George was not a touchy person. He had imagined what it would be like — finally meeting George — and had prepared himself for the initial awkward distance, how they would have to cautiously ease into their physical contact. But when George arrived in Florida at long last, Dream found that he had been wildly mistaken. 

Their first hug was different to how he had expected it to be. After years of only existing together over the phone, he had anticipated that it would take some time to adjust to being together in person. George, however, apparently harboured none of these worries, and had flung himself into Dream's arms the second he opened the door. 

Dream had once described George as 'twiggy', and he wasn't entirely wrong. The top of his head was level with Dream's chin, and his figure was definitely far more slender than Dream's own, but by no means did that impact on his hugging capabilities. Their embrace was warm, loving, and probably far longer than was usually socially acceptable, due to their overly tight hold on each other and complete unwillingness to let go. 

Sapnap had pushed past them after a few seconds (though it might have been minutes, it was difficult to tell), forcing them apart; it was really what they deserved for deciding to have their dramatic meetup moment right in the doorway of their house. 

They ate their first meal all together not long after that — steak and chips, hand-cooked by Dream at George’s request. The whole situation barely felt real, a feeling that was made no better by George’s knee pressing against his under the table. After so many years of nothing, contact that was this solid, warm and real was jarring, in the best way possible. 

George hadn’t stopped touching him for more than a minute since he had arrived, and even though they were only little things, like leaning against his side in the kitchen whilst they waited for their food to cook, it was far more than Dream had let himself hope for. He savoured each brush of their skin, treasured every second spent with his palm pressed against George’s when the latter insisted that they compare hand sizes. 

But, as predicted, George was severely jetlagged, and so their first night together had to be cut shorter than they would have liked. Dream reminded himself that it didn’t matter anymore, because when he woke up the next morning, George would be here. Not 4000 miles away, not across an ocean in another country, he would be just down the hall.

Dream was reaching to push open the door to his room, when George caught him from behind in yet another rib-crushing hug. Dream didn’t move, save for bringing his hands up and placing them over George’s, simply holding him there. If George’s hands had been resting any higher, he would definitely have been able to feel the erratic thumping of Dream’s heart, which was beating at a considerably faster rate than normal. 

“Sorry,” George mumbled against the base of Dream’s neck, “I’m still not over how you’re actually real. I think I just want to hold you all the time now because I feel like you’re going to disappear whenever I blink.”

“Why are you apologising, idiot? You can hold me whenever you want, I'm just glad you're here,” Dream murmured back, and he felt George’s smile against his skin. 

There was quiet for a moment, where Dream let himself close his eyes and appreciate the weight of George’s arms wrapped tight around his middle, the comforting warmth of George’s body pressed against his back. That was until the brief moment of tranquility was broken by an extremely loud sniff. 

“You smell good,” George said in explanation, inhaling deeply again, much to Dream’s amusement.

“What?” Dream laughed, though made no attempt to move away. He was eternally grateful for their current position, as it meant that George was unable to see his face, and subsequently also missed the rose-quartz blush that was beginning to stain it. 

“I said what I said.”

A few more seconds passed, in which George rose up onto his tiptoes to rest his head on Dream’s shoulder. His dark hair tickled Dream’s jaw, and he could feel George’s breath against his neck. 

“Why are you so comfy?” George asked, lips brushing against Dream’s skin as he spoke, causing Dream to involuntarily shiver at the contact, “You’re like a human pillow, I could actually fall asleep here.”

“You’d probably wake up with a pretty sore neck,” Dream joked, and was surprised at how steady his own voice sounded. 

“No I wouldn’t, you’d just end up carrying me to my room.”

Dream only laughed, unable to deny the truth that those words held. However his laughter abruptly stopped when he felt the hands around his waist slowly withdrawing — his fingers twitched as he had to restrain himself from grabbing his wrists and putting them back in place. This movement was evidently not missed by George, who giggled softly before stepping back, leaving behind an uncomfortable emptiness that made Dream want to turn around and pull George back into his arms.

He turned around, with half a mind to enact his plan, and was met with the sight of a flushed pink George looking right at him, pale arms hugging his own chest. 

“I should probably go to my room before I actually fall asleep on you,” George smiled, lifting his hand slightly in a small wave, “Goodnight, Dream.”

Dream bid him goodnight, and watched him retreat down the hall until his door had shut behind him, before letting out a breath that he didn’t realise he had been holding. He had spent so long preparing himself for distance between them that he hadn’t even considered this possibility of closeness. It was startling. Now that he suddenly had George this close to him all the time, he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hold it together, and the prospect of falling apart this soon was mildly terrifying. 

Was it strange that he missed him already? He understood what George had meant now, about worrying that he was going to disappear; this day just felt too good to be true. The urge to get up and walk to George’s room, just to check that this hadn’t all been a cruel dream, was almost overwhelming, but he was able to resist it for the time being. 

It only took twenty minutes of lying alone in his bed — which, not for the first time, felt strangely empty — to give in, and roll over to pick up his phone. 

Idiot <3

miss you already

i’m literally on the other side of your wall

 that’s still too far away

what, want me to come and cuddle you?

Dream desperately hoped that the walls were thick enough for George not to hear the sharp intake of breath that he took at those words. He carefully considered his response, trying to ignore the big part of himself that itched to type yes. Another message came through before he had a chance to accept the offer.

you’ll see me tomorrow morning idiot

it’s not like i’m going anywhere

what do you want for breakfast

you don’t have to make me anything

of course i do

it’s your first morning home

you deserve breakfast in bed

simp behaviour

i’m screenshotting this

dream dnfing = free twitter likes

shut upp

just answer the fucking question

idk pancakes or something

i’m honestly still surprised you can cook

don’t want to test your limits too far yk

YOU can cook pancakes

and?

you can’t cook

therefore no limits are being tested

i can cook wdym

yeah microwave meals congrats

i can do more than just ready meals

sure okay

yeah

macaroni cheese

and steak and chips

and mozzarella sticks

AND cake

i mean you tried your best

doesn’t mean you can actually cook them

well then you’re going to have to teach me 

if my cooking skills are so terrible

i’ve still got to teach you how to drive too

tomorrow?

you’ll still be exhausted

i’m not letting you drive my car jetlagged

i can’t tell what you’re more worried for

me or your car

both

but mainly my car

you know what

i don’t even want those pancakes anymore

i’ll just go and get breakfast with sapnap 

liar

you want my pancakes so bad

Through the wall, Dream heard a quiet scoff. It would take some getting used to, knowing that the man he was messaging was just a few metres away — maybe even less than, if George was sat up against his headboard like Dream was. 

He couldn’t help but think how much of a waste it was: they were so close, separated by only a few inches of plaster, so why not just be closer? Having George in his arms right about now would be perfect, the ideal ending to an already amazing day, but he didn’t want to push his luck. He had prepared himself to wait for George, and to take things at his pace, and he wasn’t going to change that now, just because George was initially far more touchy than he had predicted. 

that sounds weird

you made it weird

 i'm making you pancakes anyway

you going to feed them to me as well?

if that’s what you want

you’re dumb

i don’t see a no

you don’t need to feed me pancakes dream

but you want me to?

that’s not what i said

learn to read + ratio

Dream chuckled under his breath, shaking his head at his friend’s dumb sense of humour. He heard yet another noise through the wall, this time a long yawn. 

you should go to sleep george

you’re probably exhausted

i was going to sleep

before some dumbass decided to text me

sorry about that

text me when you wake up

i’ll bring you breakfast

:]

goodnight dream

gn george, sleep well

Dream placed his phone back on his bedside table, wearing a small smile that refused to leave his lips. It took a few minutes of tossing and turning for him to grab one of his pillows and hug it close to his chest, burying his face in the top of it. As he drifted off to sleep, he imagined a warm body in place of the lifeless case of feathers, and dreamed of a morning in which he didn’t have to wake up alone.

 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 

He gets a text from George when he is tipping the last of the pancakes onto a plate, and is busy drizzling syrup over the small stack when George walks into the kitchen. It's blatantly obvious that he had just woken up, with his hair a mess, eyes still bleary, stretching his arms above his head in a way that would’ve revealed the pale skin of his stomach had he been wearing a smaller shirt. Today, George was dressed in a loose shirt so big that it easily could’ve been one of Dream’s — though it unfortunately wasn’t — and black shorts that didn’t quite reach his knees. 

“Dream, the syrup,” George said, amused as he watched Dream whip back to face the pancakes, and hastily try to clean up the puddle of syrup that had accumulated on the countertop whilst he was busy admiring George.

“You’re up early,” Dream commented, fighting back a blush, “I thought you were going to let me bring you breakfast in bed.”

He was sure, if asked, he could generate some kind of heterosexual explanation as to why he liked staring at his best friend so much. He’d recently noticed how much time he spent doing just that, which was beginning to become somewhat of a problem. Having him in Florida had made matters no better, and the urge to scoop him up into his arms and kiss him until neither of them could breathe was becoming an increasingly tempting idea. 

“I couldn’t sleep, and waiting for you seemed boring.”

“Fair enough.” Dream handed him the plate of pancakes, receiving a grateful smile in return. George opened his mouth, as though there was something he wanted to ask, but quickly closed it again, instead making his way to the stools that lined the kitchen island and sitting down. 

Dream followed him, eyes unable to leave George as the latter began to eat his breakfast. 

“Do I have something on my face? Or am I really just that handsome?” George asked, and even when he spoke through a mouthful of pancakes, Dream could wholeheartedly say that he was indeed a little bit in love with him.

“Sorry—” Dream started, pointedly looking down at the counter, away from George’s face, but instead ended up gazing at George’s hands.

“You’re allowed to stare, you know? I don’t mind it really, I was just joking.”

“You seriously mean that?”

“Yeah, of course, as long as I get to stare at you too.”

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

Ironically enough, in the seconds that followed, they pointedly avoided each other's gaze. 

 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 

Movie nights soon became commonplace in the Dream Team household. Twice a week, they'd gather in the living room for a couple hours, throw popcorn at each other, and sort of pay attention to whatever was playing on the TV. It usually took longer to choose what they were going to watch than it did to actually watch it. 

Tonight, they had just started rewatching Ready Player One — at Sapnap’s request, seeing as George had picked the last three times, due to Dream's absolute inability to deny him of anything — and George and Sapnap were already having a heated debate about who out of the three of them would be the best Gunter.

Dream wasn’t paying much attention to what they were actually saying, eyes drifting to George, then back to the TV screen when he realised he'd been staring for too long, then back to George when he remembered the words that they had exchanged over breakfast a few weeks ago. He was distracted, to say the least, and so it was unsurprising that it took him a minute or two to realise that the once passionate conversation had dropped off into an expectant silence. 

Tearing his eyes from where they had been lingering on George's collarbones — which were half-exposed by loose neck of his shirt — he glanced up at his two friends, one of whom was looking back at him with fond amusement, and the other of whom watched on and looked like he was about to be sick. 

"Did you say something?" Dream asked stupidly, though he found that he did not have enough willpower to stop his gaze from drifting to focus on George's eyelashes. He had nice eyelashes, sue him. 

"We wanted to know who you agree with more," George replied, not-so-subtly batting said eyelashes in a successful attempt to make Sapnap gag, whilst also enticing Dream into siding with him, not that he ever needed the extra persuasion. 

"Um, George probably," Dream said distractedly, not giving much thought to his answer — his mind was a little too preoccupied for that. 

His words elicited an instant groan of protest from Sapnap, and a gleeful, triumphant laugh from George. 

"I knew this would happen," Sapnap whined, "You probably don't even know what you're agreeing to. Tell me, Dream, what were we arguing about?"

Dream looked imploringly at George for some semblance of help, but received none. George seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, a smile plastered across his face, content to watch this all play out. This was probably due to the fact that he knew that Dream would side with him regardless of what Sapnap said, and so was safe to bask in his premature glory. 

"Who do you think would make the best Parzival? Me, you, or George?" Sapnap questioned, still not admitting defeat. 

"Well," Dream started, catching George's eye, "Probably me or George, right? I mean, you're obviously the Aech in this situation."

"And are you just saying that because Aech is the third wheel?" Sapnap challenged, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. 

Dream choked on his own spit at this accusation, spluttering out a string of unconvincing defences that Sapnap only raised his eyebrows at. George, on the other hand, only laughed harder, scooting up the sofa to sit directly beside Dream, throwing an arm around his shoulder for good measure. 

Dream missed every single one of George's next words, due to the fact that he was extremely distracted by how they were now pressed together from shoulder to thigh, and George didn't seem to want to move away any time soon.

Several minutes later, when the three of them had finally calmed down and gone back to watching the rest of the movie, George decided to rest his head on Dream's shoulder. At this, Sapnap made his loudest gagging noise yet, and George flipped him off without looking over at him. 

It was a good thing that they'd already watched this movie before, because Dream was finding it very difficult to pay attention with George's soft hair tickling his neck. If he had been any braver, he would have given into his desires and ran his fingers through it, messed with the curls around George's ears and pushed to the side the ones that were falling into his eyes. 

He wondered if George had done such casually intimate things with anyone else. His mind drifted back to the time when George had attended Twitchcon Amsterdam, and Dream's face soured involuntarily. He preferred not to think about those days, not wishing to reflect on the bitter jealousy that had flared within him every time he could only watch helplessly through a screen as Karl put his hands on George. 

Though recently, for obvious reasons, it had been fairly easy to keep these sorts of feelings at bay. He glanced down at the man who was now sitting half in his lap, and couldn't repress his smile. 

They stayed snuggled together for the remainder of the film, plus a few extra minutes after Sapnap had left the room. Moments like these still felt extremely precious, even though they had had plenty of time to get used to each other by now. Dream hoped that this feeling would never wear off, and desperately wished for the man in his arms to want the same. 

 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 

It was exactly 4:26am, and there was someone knocking at his door. 

The intruder waited exactly five seconds — in which Dream only had time to crack open his eyes, yawn, and immediately close them again — before bursting into the room and sitting on the edge of Dream's bed. 

"I want McDonald's," George announced, sounding far too loud and awake for Dream, who in this moment wanted nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep.

"Then order McDonald's, use my card, whatever," Dream mumbled groggily, words muffled and made half-unintelligible by the pillow he was speaking into. Thankfully, George seemed to know what he meant — or had perhaps already been anticipating this answer. 

"I can't."

"Why not?" Dream asked, uninterested, still intent on going back to sleep.

"No delivery places are open this early," George explained, shifting up on the bed a little to get closer to Dream, and using this leverage to poke Dream's cheek, "So I need you to drive me there." 

"George, it's four in the morning."

"And?" 

Dream regretfully opened his eyes, already mourning the loss of his comfortable bed that was sure to follow his next words.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

Dream sighed, slowly pushing off his blankets, sitting up and swinging his legs out of bed. 

"Why aren't you wearing anything?" George faltered.

"What? George, I'm wearing sweatpants, I'm not- I'm not naked or anything," Dream exclaimed, turning around to face George and immediately regretting it when he realised how intently George was staring at his bare chest. Dream could already feel himself blushing, and was unsure whether he'd prefer George to keep examining his pecs or glance up and notice the cherry tint of his cheeks. 

"You're shirtless, it's basically the same thing." George finally looked away from Dream's body, instead becoming extremely interested in picking at the skin around his fingernails, "So, you work out?"

Dream snorted, walking over to his closet to grab a shirt. He knew that he must have imagined the brief disappointment that flashed across George's features when Dream turned back around with much less skin on show than before. 

They headed out of the house quietly, in order not to disturb Sapnap, only speaking again once they were both seated in Dream's car. 

"To answer your question George, yes, I work out," Dream said smugly, as he began to reverse the car out of the driveway. 

"I didn't mean to ask that, I already know you work out, I just didn't know what to say," George muttered, embarrassment heavy in his tone. 

"Minecraft YouTuber GeorgeNotFound is left speechless at the sight of Dream's—" 

"That's not what I said you fucking—"

"To be fair, you implied it."

"Is this just a massive ploy to try and get me to gush over how nice your abs are?" 

Right now, Dream was extremely grateful that he had the excuse of driving and keeping his eyes on the road, so he didn't have to make eye contact with George. Though in a way, he supposed this was worse. George was free to scrutinise him as he pleased from his spot in the passenger seat, with Dream unable to do anything apart from sneak the occasional glance in his peripheral vision. 

"I mean, I'm not gonna stop you from doing that if you really want to. You're in America now George, it's a free country," Dream joked.

For a minute, a comfortable silence occupied the car, broken only by the gentle, irregular drumming of Dream's index finger against the steering wheel. Then suddenly George spoke.

"Fifty gifted and I'll give you my honest opinions on your abs."

"Deal. Honestly surprised you didn't ask for more."

"It was a typo, I meant a hundred and fifty."

"A typo?" Dream smiled, continuing to surprise himself every day by how endearing he found this idiot that he called his best friend. 

"A typo," George affirmed. 

"I dunno, I'd have to think about it. I mean, you did already say they were nice so is it really worth paying all that extra?" Dream wondered aloud, both of them knowing full well that he would cave eventually. 

"What? I didn't say that!"

"You did, like, two minutes ago!"

"I literally have never and will never say that in my life."

"Sure, whatever," Dream conceded, with the obvious air of someone that did not believe a word that was coming out of his best friend's mouth. 

During the first weeks of George's stay, he had thought a lot about their relationship. How they acted, and how it wasn't at all the same as how they'd act with other people. He debated having a talk with George, officially laying out where they stood, but quickly came to realise there was no point. They were fluid, ever-changing, and they were both aware that they were already heading in a new direction without needing to talk about it. 

People had always joked about them dancing on the line between friendship and romance, and some said that they had obliterated it entirely. Dream liked that version the best. He loved that they had found a balance, that they could so easily flit between the two that they had become a single cohesion of flirty banter and pure understanding. 

Nothing had to change straight away, or ever. They were content to free fall and see where they ended up, as long as they were both always comfortable throughout the journey. And so far, everything was working out pretty damn well in his opinion. 

"Are we going in or getting a drive through?" George asked as they took a turn into the McDonald's car park.

"Your choice."

George peered through the car window, getting a good look at the inside before letting out an audible gasp, "Dream."

"What?"

"There's no one inside, literally no one. We'd have an entire McDonald's to ourselves."

The sheer wonder in his voice over something as trivial as an empty McDonald's gave Dream the near irresistible urge to scoop George up into his arms, hold him close and kiss both his cheeks. Some people were too precious for this world, and George was one of them. 

"I take it you want to go in then?" 

"Obviously."

Dream parked the car and got swiftly out of it, rushing around to the passenger side to open George's door for him. He did so with an extravagant bow, offering out his hand for George to take. George rolled his eyes but his face broke into a fond smile at Dream's theatrics, taking Dream's hand and allowing himself to be helped out of the car. 

They entered the McDonald's side by side, walking so close together that their hands brushed with each step they took. 

The one employee sitting behind the tills didn't bother to look up at them as they approached, scrolling through TikTok on her phone. George cleared his throat, catching the attention of the cashier. She was clearly very bored and extremely tired, forced to work a night shift when she could've been at home sleeping, and Dream might have felt sorry for her if it wasn't for the way she was eyeing George. 

"Oh, hi, what can I get you today? Other than my number and a date this weekend," She said shamelessly, looking directly at George who looked like he was struggling to hold back a laugh. 

"Just a big mac and a strawberry milkshake would be great, thanks," George replied politely, but Dream didn't miss the way the corner of his lip twitched in a smile. 

"Yeah, fine," She conceded, only looking slightly disgruntled as she turned to Dream, "And for you?"

He should have just said he wanted fries, or chicken nuggets or a burger or anything, but he had been too busy watching George and his reactions to the girl's flirting attempts that he hadn't thought of anything to say beforehand, so he panicked. And when Dream panicked in situations like these, he usually happened to say the first thing that came to his mind, in order to get the interaction over with as fast as possible. So that's how he found himself accidentally coming out to both his best friend and a random sleep-deprived McDonald's worker at 5am on a random Thursday morning. 

"Um, I'm gay," Dream blurted, causing George's carefully barricaded laughter to finally fall from his lips, in a loud cackle that echoed around the otherwise empty building. 

The number of expressions that flitted across her face in rapid succession would have been utterly hilarious, had it not been for Dream's desire for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

"Right, I'll go and get your food," The worker said, giving Dream one final questioning look before retreating into the kitchen, leaving George doubled over against the counter with uncontrollable laughter, and Dream stood stock still, frozen in mortification. 

"You," George got out between wheezes, "Have the shittest social skills I have ever witnessed."

"I didn't mean to—"

"I wish I could clip that," George said, his voice slightly higher than normal as he struggled to catch his breath, "She wasn't even hitting on you, and her face—"

George cut himself off with another fit of giggles, which continued until the bearer of Dream's embarrassment returned with George's burger and milkshake. Dream paid for the food, avoiding catching her eye, barely daring to breathe until they sat at the table in the corner furthest from the counter.

Dream silently watched George eat his food, an amused smile still spread across his face. He was about halfway finished when George spoke, voice hushed enough to not be heard by the cashier. 

"Sorry for laughing so much but, uh, are you actually, you know?"

"Yeah, I am," Dream whispered, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, or in a less stupid way at least."

"No, personally I think it was perfect. Original as well as fucking hilarious." George took another bite of his burger, chewing slowly and swallowing before saying, "I am too. For the record."

"You're…?" 

"I'm gay too, if it wasn't obvious."

"Oh," Dream breathed, barely daring to believe what he was hearing was real, "How long have you known?" 

"Honestly, about ten years, but I didn't label myself as anything until I was in uni. You?"

"I only realised a couple of years ago. All my life I'd just never let myself consider the possibility, but after my last relationship went to shit I started thinking about it. I don't think I ever really found women that attractive, I just convinced myself I did because that's what was normal, and—"

He was cut off by a loud slurping sound, followed by George letting go of his milkshake with a sheepish, apologetic expression. 

"I can't believe we just came out to each other over a big mac," George said, far louder than either of them had been talking before, most definitely drawing the attention of the cashier. 

"I thought it was common knowledge that the most memorable moments always happen at McDonald's," Dream joked. 

George giggled, "That rhymed."

It was only at this point that Dream wondered how many hours of sleep George was running on — if he had to guess, he'd say around three — or whether he had even slept at all. 

"No it didn't," Dream corrected him, standing up and putting George's now-empty burger box in a nearby bin. 

"It did! Most memorable moments McDonald's," George laughed quietly, pressing his lips together far more than necessary to emphasise each 'm' sound, and as a result, made himself laugh even harder. 

"Okay, time to get you back to bed."

Dream offered a hand out to George, who took it, though didn't immediately use it to get out of his seat like Dream had intended. Instead, George brought it closer to his face, and for a moment, Dream thought he was going to kiss it. Instead, George simply held the back of Dream's hand against his cheek and closed his eyes, all whilst Dream watched on, pink-cheeked and smiling uncontrollably at the sight. 

George got to his feet after a minute or so, letting go of Dream's hand at some point on their short walk back to the car. 

On the drive home, Dream made sure to keep one hand on the wheel, but left his other resting on the centre console, his palm facing up — an invitation. A few minutes had passed, in which Dream was beginning to lose hope, when he suddenly felt tentative fingers slide against his own. Dream's grip on the steering wheel tightened dramatically as George's fingertips dragged gently along the sensitive skin of his palm. It was an immense struggle to keep his breathing steady. 

George played with Dream's fingers for the remainder of the journey. It was initially very distracting — and led to Dream almost accidentally running a red light — but proved to be quite pleasant and relaxing once he had gotten used to it. Casual intimacy with George was as natural as breathing at this point, and Dream wouldn't change it for the world. He loved how they could hold hands or cuddle on the couch no questions asked, how wonderfully easy everything was when it was just the two of them. 

George reluctantly let go of Dream's hand when they got back to the house, trailing a finger down Dream's thumb, over his wrist and along his forearm to his elbow, before hastily pulling away and getting out of the car. 

Dream offered his hand to George during their next movie night.

 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 

One of the biggest benefits of the three of them being famous YouTubers and streamers had to be the fact that they were very rich. And with these riches, they could afford to splash out on luxuries that most households would usually deem unnecessary — like a blender specifically used to make homemade mayonnaise, bidets, and a swimming pool in their back garden. 

Something that Dream hadn't known about George before he moved to Florida was how much he hated swimming, particularly in outdoor pools. He complained about how tiring it was, and how annoying it was to have to shower afterwards even though you'd basically just had a bath, and then with the added factor of it being outdoors? Where bugs and insects and god knows what else could just climb in there? Yeah, you wouldn't ever see George with so much as a toe in the water, even if you tried to bribe him with 200 gifted subs. 

Today, however, proved to be an exception. George had entered the kitchen this morning already complaining about the heat, then proceeded to google the temperature and complain even more. 

"Forty two degrees, Dream. Forty two. That's— that's got to be over a hundred Fahrenheit, I'm actually going to die." 

"You're such a drama queen, my god," Dream tutted, retrieving the cartoon of apple juice from the fridge and pouring a glass to hand to George. 

George took it gratefully, tipping his head back and downing more than half of it at once. He set the glass down with a sigh, and continued swinging his legs from where he was perched on the edge of the counter. 

Despite how George was flushed red with heat, probably slightly sweaty, with his hair still mussed from sleep, Dream couldn't help but adore him. The shirt he was wearing was so long it almost entirely obscured the shorts he was wearing, and his lips were still shiny from the juice he had just drank. Dream thought that he wouldn't mind running his thumb along them, watching plush skin dip under the soft pressure he applied. 

"You look cute right now. Very huggable," George stated, startling Dream out of his thoughts. 

"What," Dream said weakly, his voice coming out as more of a squeak than actual intelligible speech. 

"Sometimes when you look at me, you have this specific smile on your face, and you tilt your head to the side a bit, like this." George demonstrated, and Dream laughed whilst cringing internally. He hadn't realised that he was this fucking obvious. 

"Do I?" Dream asked, still in a slight daze. George's smile was so wide, and his shirt was so big, and his lips were so glossy and his hair was so long that it fell into his eyes whenever he laughed. Dream wanted to run his fingers through it until it was messy and dishevelled, twirl the strands around his fingers and tuck them behind George's ears. 

"You do," Sapnap agreed, his sudden appearance making both Dream and George jump. 

"How long have you been standing there?" 

"Long enough," Sapnap replied, slightly ominously, "I just came to ask if you guys wanted to hop in the pool."

Almost instinctively, Dream looked over to George before answering, wanting to know his opinion before replying. Surprisingly enough, George seemed to be interested in this idea — at least, he didn't have the look of disgust on his face that usually appeared when the pool was mentioned. 

"You want to swim, George?" Dream asked, and George nodded in response, quickly drinking the rest of his apple juice before hopping off the counter. 

"I'll meet you guys out there," George said, deliberately brushing his shoulder against Dream's as he exited the kitchen. 

"Dude," Sapnap started the second George was out of earshot, "You're doing your George smile again."

"I do not have a George smile," Dream objected, punctuating the last two words with air quotes. 

"You do! You were watching him leave with literal hearts in your eyes, it was pretty disgusting to watch honestly." Sapnap walked over to the fridge and grabbed an energy drink, though his eyes didn't leave Dream's face, not wanting to miss his reaction. 

Dream didn't respond immediately. He silently picked up George's empty glass and took it to the sink, and slowly began to rinse it out. Once the glass was clean, he turned back around to face Sapnap and picked up a towel from the side, before he began to slowly dry the glass. 

It was with brows still creased slightly in thought, that Dream finally broke his silence, "What are you trying to get at?"

"I think it's pretty obvious."

"We're—" Dream started, but cut himself off, biting his lip. Friends wasn't really an adequate word to describe them anymore. Of course they were still best friends, like they always had been, but there was something else now too, something more difficult to put into words. 

Between the two of them, everything was simple. Self-explanatory. But explaining that all to another person? He doubted anyone else, even Sapnap, would be able to understand. 

"It's complicated," Dream said finally, and Sapnap let out a quiet sigh, as though that was what he had been expecting to hear, "But we're fine. We're just… taking it slow."

Sapnap nodded, but Dream could tell that he wanted to ask more. He didn't though, and silence fell between them yet again as Dream finished drying the glass and Sapnap opened his energy drink. Dream was just about to put the glass away in the cupboard, when Sapnap spoke again. 

"I can't wait to see your reaction to shirtless George." 

The glass slipped from Dream's hand, hitting the floor and shattering immediately. The majority of it had split into three large pieces, but there were definitely enough small shards for it to be dangerous. Dream's mind instantly went back to George, who he knew preferred to walk around the house barefoot. 

"Shit! I'm going to get the vacuum cleaner, I'll be right back."

Sapnap was still howling with laughter when he returned a few minutes later with the vacuum cleaner.

"You just broke a glass," Sapnap said between laughs, still trying to catch his breath, "All because I dared mention the words shirtless George." 

Dream flushed bright pink, opened his mouth, closed his mouth, and opened it again before finally managing to get out the words, "It wasn't just because of that."

"You want my honest opinion?" Sapnap paused, and Dream gestured for him to continue, "I think you're talking shit." 

"When am I even going to see George shirtless," Dream grumbled, getting to his feet and tipping the shattered pieces of glass into the bin, "It's not like he just walks around the house like that."

"We are all going to be in the pool. Together. Shirtless. In a couple of minutes." 

"Oh. Yeah. I hadn't really thought about that."

Almost instantly, an image of George sitting by the poolside popped into Dream's brain. Him sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs dangling in the water, his hair damp and curly and stupidly attractive, with sparkling crystal droplets running down his bare chest. His head was tilted back in a laugh, exposing the column of his neck, and Dream imagined himself kissing it, biting it. 

Dream swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and he could tell that Sapnap was giving him a weird look, possibly partially aware of what was going on in Dream's mind. 

"I am fully expecting you to slip and fall into the pool when you see him," Sapnap grinned. 

"I won't."

"You're going to be too busy staring at him and then I'll have the chance to push you—"

"Are you guys actually going to come or will I have to drag you out here? I've been waiting for ages," George said, appearing from behind the kitchen door with a towel slung around his shoulders, still (disappointingly) wearing a shirt with his swim shorts. 

Dream wondered how much of the conversation George had overheard.

"We'll be out in a minute, Dream broke a glass and had to clean it up and I wanted to stay and laugh at him," Sapnap explained.

"How did Dream break a glass?" George crossed his arms and smiled slightly, intrigued.

"Well, you see—"

"I'm going to get changed, I'll meet you guys by the pool in a minute," Dream interrupted, glaring at Sapnap and offering George a small smile as he left. 

In the moments after he had left, he realised that leaving Sapnap and George alone together, without his supervision, may not have been the smartest decision. Sapnap now had the freedom to tell George whatever he wanted and Dream would be none the wiser. He could only hope that Sapnap didn't tell George everything, though Dream suspected that he might already have. 

By the time Dream made it outside, Sapnap and George were already in the pool. Sapnap had evidently just dunked George's head under the water, as George popped back out with dripping wet hair, screeching like a cat that had been tricked into taking a bath. 

Dream dropped his towel on one of the chairs beside the pool, before walking carefully to the very edge of the water. In his annoyance, George had been too busy accusing Sapnap to notice Dream's arrival, and so Dream decided to announce his presence by cannonballing into the pool directly beside George. 

Sapnap had seen him coming, so had just been able to move out of the way of the great splash that erupted from Dream's body as he hit the water. George, however, had turned around at the last second, and the wave had hit him straight in the face. 

Dream emerged from the water, shaking with laughter, coughing slightly due to the water he had accidentally inhaled. He pushed his wet hair out of his eyes, and glanced over at George. One look at his friend's shocked and disbelieving face was enough to set both him and Sapnap off laughing again, whilst George regarded them with an unimpressed glare.

"Wow, you are so funny, Dream," George deadpanned.

"I know right? Absolute master of comedy, you should've seen your face."

"You should've seen your mother's face when I—"

"To be fair, it was pretty funny," Sapnap interjected. 

"Shut up, Stinknap. No one wants to hear your opinion."

"I appreciate your opinion, Sap," Dream reassured him. 

"Aw, thanks man."

"Why are you two ganging up on me?" George pouted, "Dream, you're supposed to be on my side."

"You said I was unfunny then expect me to agree with you?" Dream asked, mildly exasperated. 

"Yes." George swam over to Dream, closing the few feet between them in a couple of strokes and putting his arms over Dream's shoulders, hands clasped behind his neck. "Because I'm right, aren't I?"

Although Dream was tall enough to be able to stand up with his feet flat on the bottom of the pool, George was not granted that luxury. He had to stand on his tiptoes in order to comfortably hold his arms around Dream's shoulders, meaning he drifted slightly in the water, drifted closer to Dream. 

The feeling of George's bare chest pressed against his own was not a feeling he had ever expected to actually experience. Even when Sapnap had suggested going in the pool this morning, Dream didn't think that they would actually get this close. Now, though, he never wanted to let George go.

The glide of skin on skin was made easy by the cold water between them. Dream wanted to close his eyes and bask in the feeling, but simply couldn't when George was close enough to him that they could feel each other's breath on their lips.

George's hands tightened their hold on the back of his neck, pulling them closer still. There couldn't have been more than a centimetre between them when George's face split into a smirk, and Dream was suddenly fully submerged in the water. George had pulled him under. 

"What the fuck was that for?" Dream scowled as he broke the surface, rubbing water out of his eyes. 

"You just got absolutely destroyed," George cackled, "I memed you. I memed you so hard."

George's laughter continued for quite some time, but Dream found that he didn't mind that it was at his expense. If he had to listen to a single sound for the rest of his days, he knew that he would choose George. George's morning voice, his hushed 4am giggles, heck, even the hiccups he got that one time after Sapnap dared him to chug a litre bottle of Dr Pepper. 

Though, this uncontrolled laughter, this near-otherworldly sound that carried to Dream across the clear surface of the pool, may just be the most beautiful thing he has ever heard. It flowed smoother than the water ever could, in small waves that lapped at the edges of Dream's heart like it was made of sand, eroding him layer by layer until he was consumed entirely. He knew that he wouldn't mind that, he was more than willing to hand himself over to the tide. 

Dream wanted to drown in it, in George.  

Later that night, he dreamt of poolside kisses in the dark, in which he could feel nothing but George's gentle hands and soft lips on his skin, and hear only the sound of that gorgeous laugh, echoing through his skull. 

 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 

In all the years they had known each other, they must have spent thousands of hours on discord calls together, but the sleep calls would always be Dream's favourite. 

Their deepest conversations were usually held under the veils of darkness, often stretching into the early hours of the morning. Sometimes, if George was feeling particularly generous, he would turn on his camera. Nights where he could see George's face smushed against his pillow, hair sticking up in all directions whilst he giggled sleepily at whatever dumb joke Dream had made, those were his favourite nights of all. 

With George's voice beside him so often when he slept, of course he had thought about what it would be like to have the man beside him for real. He just hadn't anticipated that it would ever actually happen. 

George had opened his door without knocking, slipping inside and shutting it behind him. He wasn't being loud — quite the opposite actually — but Dream had woken up anyway, stirring in the darkness and causing George to stop abruptly in his tracks. 

"G'rge?" Dream slurred, his voice still heavy with sleep. 

George didn't respond. Instead, he silently approached the bed, sitting carefully on the edge of it. Dream was still facing away from him towards the wall, but could feel the mattress dip under his weight. Then, slowly, giving time for Dream to speak up and object, George lifted the bed covers and joined Dream beneath them. He shuffled closer and tentatively, gently, placed a hand on Dream's waist. When Dream gave no sound of protest, the hand slid further, looping round his middle and pressing them closer together, his back against George's chest. 

Dream had known that this was George, not Sapnap, from the second he had entered the room — the delicate footsteps and breathing pattern were enough — but the tenderness of his touch confirmed it. 

George's hands were fairly small, and in the daylight looked as though they belonged in a renowned oil painting. Under the cover of moonlight, they felt celestial against Dream's skin, leaving a trail of stardust and elegance in their wake. 

Sleep was still clouding Dream's mind, and his relaxed state made it seem even easier to fall back into slumber, but his desire to remain present in this moment was just as powerful. George's lips brushing against his neck was not a sensation he got to experience on the daily, and he would like to be conscious for as long as possible to make the most of it. 

After a while, Dream was certain that George had fallen asleep, if his slow, steady breathing was anything to go by. He quickly learned that sleeping George was a clingy motherfucker, who gripped Dream tight as though he was expecting him to make a run for it at any moment. One of George's legs was also hiked up over Dream's waist, meaning that he ended up clinging to Dream like some kind of touch-starved koala.

In the darkness of his room, under the comfort of his bedsheets, with George pressed against him from ankle to shoulder, Dream decided that this might just be his favourite moment of his entire life. He just hoped that George would still be here in the morning, to prove that this wasn't all some beautiful nightmare, created solely to taunt him with all the things he could never have. 

When the sun rose the next morning, filtering through the blinds that yesterday's Dream had been too lazy to close, he awoke to delicate hands tracing patterns across his skin.

 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 

There were not many quiet mornings in the Dream Team household. There had been lazy mornings, where none of them had possessed much motivation to do anything other than huddle together in the living room and binge watch TV. There had been hungover mornings, though only a couple, in which Dream made fun of George and Sapnap's life choices whilst making them breakfast. There had been busy mornings, when all three of them were too busy with recordings and meetings to sit down together and enjoy a proper conversation. 

But even then, they had been able to make fun of the show's terrible soundtrack, bantered with each other over plates of bacon and eggs, and showed each other memes and funny tweets whenever they passed each other in the hallways. 

However, in the many mornings that had passed, there had never been one where eating cereal felt quite as loud as this. 

Metal scraping against porcelain echoed around their kitchen as Dream pushed his cornflakes around his bowl, staring down intently at his bowl as if the soggy dregs within it held the answers to all his problems. He really wasn't hungry, and hadn't eaten a single mouthful since he had sat down. 

George was beside him, and Dream could feel his stare burning into the side of his face, asking the silent question of what are we supposed to do? But he couldn't risk looking up to meet George's gaze, because that would mean running the risk of accidentally catching Sapnap's eye instead. Sapnap was seated opposite him, eyes flicking between Dream and George, then back again. 

There was a clock on the wall to their left that none of them really used, but had been left up for decoration — also because none of them could be bothered to take it down. It usually went unnoticed, the three of them far more than loud enough to drown out the sound of its incessant ticking. Now, it audibly marked every second that passed, a near-deafening repetition that was impossible to ignore. It did absolutely nothing to ease the rising tension between the two sides of the table.  

"So," Sapnap started, causing Dream to jump and his spoon to clatter loudly against his bowl. Sapnap chose to ignore this, and continued with a pointed look between the two of them, "You two are like, actually a thing now? You're together?" 

"We just—" George began. 

"It's kind of—" Dream said at the same time. 

They looked at each other, slightly panicked, not entirely sure how to go about handling the situation. 

About twenty minutes ago, Sapnap had entered George's room — probably intending to just annoy him or ask about a future stream — and was greeted with the sight of Dream and George cuddled up together beneath the blankets. 

In any other scenario, this could have been more easily explained, with the excuse of a nightmare or simply falling asleep together whilst up late talking. However, their case wasn't helped by the fact that they were both already awake, sat up against the headboard and practically sat in each other's laps, so close together that their foreheads pressed together and their noses brushed with every other breath. There was the added factor of both of them preferring to sleep shirtless, as well as their hair being extremely messy from just having woken up. 

They hadn't even noticed Sapnap was there until he had cleared his throat when George had reached a hand up to cup Dream's face. 

Since the first time George had slipped into Dream's bed in the dead of night, it had become part of their routine. Every evening, they would decide on one of their rooms and spend the night cuddled up together, talking in soft voices into the early hours of the morning. This wasn't at all dissimilar to their old habit of sleep calling, except now they normally ended up spooning. It was different, but it was a good kind of different — a definite positive change in their relationship.

Even during the nights where it was so hot that they had to kick off the bed covers, they still held each other close, finding it so much easier to sleep when in each other's embrace. 

The issue with this all was that they still hadn't properly defined what they were. They were still taking it at their own pace, and that was fine with both of them, it was what they wanted. It just made everything so much harder to explain to Sapnap than it really should be. 

"We're not, um, official or anything," George said, and Dream felt him brush his pinky finger against Dream's own. He took the hint and curled them together. 

"Then why are you both smiling like idiots just because you're holding hands under the table?" Sapnap asked incredulously, and okay, maybe Dream could see where his friend's confusion was coming from. 

"We're going slow, there's no reason for us to rush into anything," Dream explained, and George squeezed his pinky in reassurance. 

"But you both like each other, and you both know you like each other, so why not just, y'know, make it official or whatever it was you said," Sapnap asked. 

They loved him, he was still their best friend, the final third that was essential to completing their trio, but both Dream and George had known that he wouldn't understand. 

"We have all the time in the world," George spoke, sharing a sideways glance with Dream that was filled with more emotion than either of them could ever convey to Sapnap with words alone, "Why shouldn't we savour everything? Make it last?" 

"I dunno, it just seems weird to me that you guys don't just want to take everything you can get. It's like someone gave you a cheat code to skip straight to the final boss but you guys are still choosing to play through the entire rest of the game." 

"I suppose it is, but the stupid side quests you accidentally end up doing are usually some of the most enjoyable parts, right?" George reasoned, and something finally seemed to click in Sapnap's brain. 

Sapnap nodded slowly, finally seeming to at least somewhat understand. 

Gradually, the quiet faded, and George pressed their knees together under the table as the three of them continued to talk. 

 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 

Ever since George's  first morning in Florida, pancakes for breakfast had become a sort of weekly tradition. Every Wednesday, Dream would make pancakes for them both — and occasionally Sapnap, if he was awake. Once or twice he had agreed to make George's 123 pancakes, with only minimal arguments over whether or not they were actually crepes and so they technically weren't continuing the tradition of Wednesday pancakes. He still made them anyway, with reluctant admittance that they were actually quite good. 

This week, though, marked the three month anniversary of George's arrival, so Dream had decided to attempt something different. 

Usually, the American pancakes he made were fairly small, each individual one around the same size as his closed fist. George's pancakes though, although much thinner, took up the whole frying pan. What Dream was trying to make was a George-pancake-sized version of his American pancakes. So far, it wasn't going too well.

There were three separate pans on the stove, each containing a pancake cooking with varying degrees of success. He could tell that at least one of them was stuck to the bottom of the pan, and another had a huge hole in the middle from where it had split when he had tried to flip it. 

Dream decided he hated the word pancake. Even just in his thoughts, he'd heard it too much for it to still seem like a real word. 

Just as he had on the very first morning, George appeared in the doorway when Dream was tipping the first semi-decent, unburnt pancake onto a plate. George looked from the food to Dream, confusion and amusement equally apparent on his face. 

"It's a DNF style pancake," Dream explained, "A me pancake but the size of a you pancake. I wanted to make something special because now you've officially finished your first trimester in Florida." 

Dream was fully aware that he wasn't making much sense, but he knew George would understand. He always did. 

George laughed and shook his head slightly, moving closer to take the plate, "Disappointed honestly, DNF pancakes and you didn't even bother with green and blue food colouring?"

“I didn’t even think of that,” Dream tutted, “I guess I’ll just have to do it for your six months instead.”

George smiled again, and took the plate from Dream. He opened his mouth to speak but abruptly closed it again — just as he had on the first morning. Dream expected him to go and sit down, and was prepared to follow him, taking a step closer to him before realising that George hadn't moved at all. 

His eyes darted over Dream's face, and George looked slightly apprehensive, as though he was steeling himself for something. Dream wanted to ask him what was wrong, and opened his mouth to do so, but George moved before Dream could speak.

Soft lips pressed against Dream's cheek before immediately retreating again, the kiss over so quickly that he wondered whether he had imagined it. But, if his erratic heartbeat and the bright blush across George's cheeks were anything to go by, this was the realest thing he had ever felt. 

Dream met George's eyes with his own lips parted slightly in surprise, bringing a hand up to his cheek to touch where he could still feel the phantom brush of George's lips. 

"God, I'm sorry," George mumbled, running a hand through his hair. He took a step back, away from Dream. 

Dream wanted to reassure him, reach out and grab his wrist and pull him back into his arms, maybe ask him to kiss him like that again. Though he didn't do any of this; he was still too stunned to speak, standing there like an idiot as George took another step back. 

"I should've asked first, you just looked so kissable—" 

Dream's eyes widened even more at those next words, causing George to look even more panicked than before. 

"Why did I say that?" George laughed awkwardly, shoving both his hands in his pockets and continuing to avoid Dream's gaze, "You know what, I can just go, we can talk about this another time. Or just never. Whatever works."

"George," Dream breathed. 

George stopped in his tracks.

“You don’t need to apologise. For anything,” Dream said.

“You mean that?” George asked, hopeful, but still cautious.

“Yeah, it was good, I liked it,” Dream said, and now it was his turn to be embarrassed, blushing at the near-smirk on George’s lips. 

“Good?” 

Dream’s reassurance seemed to have done wonders for George’s confidence, who was now regarding Dream in a way that made him slightly weak at the knees. 

“Better than,” Dream confessed, “I’d let you do it again, if you wanted.”

George was directly in front of Dream again now, and he instinctively opened his arms in a silent invitation. George fell into them without hesitation, joining them in a warm embrace. They stood like that for several minutes, swaying slightly in the middle of their kitchen, until George’s stomach noisily reminded them of the pancakes they had forgotten. They reluctantly separated to eat, though not without George standing up on his tiptoes to leave a parting kiss on the end of Dream’s nose. 

 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 

“Are you coming to bed?”

“Give me two minutes.”

“Can’t you just finish it tomorrow?”

“George, two minutes.”

George huffed, checked his phone, and then proceeded to starfish himself across the entire bed. Dream watched him in his peripheral vision with a smile, as he finished up what he was doing on his computer and turned to face George. 

“Oh my god, fucking finally,” George said, making grabby hands at Dream when he didn’t immediately get out of his chair, “Dream, please, I’m cold.”

“Then put a shirt on dumbass,” Dream teased, but made his way over to George anyway.

George was indeed wearing only a pair of basketball shorts that were definitely too big to be his own. However, the sight of his best friend in his clothes, half-naked and in his bed was no longer as startling to Dream as it may have been to him a few months ago. That wasn’t at all to say that he no longer found views like these to be the most beautiful thing he had laid eyes on, because he definitely still did. It was just that as time had progressed, their familiarity with each other had too, and moments such as this had become increasingly common, particularly since that first kiss in the kitchen a couple of months ago. 

“You’re better than a shirt,” George mumbled into Dream’s neck.

“You’re so clingy today,” Dream said, but his tone failed to hide how his heart had practically melted in his chest at those words. 

“And you’re acting like you didn’t miss me just as much.” 

“Don’t call me out like that,” Dream smiled, pressing a kiss to George’s forehead. 

George laughed, and his lips brushed over Dream’s collarbones. 

One morning, when they were in a position not too dissimilar to right now, George had asked him if they could stay in bed together forever. At the time, Dream had only poked George in the stomach and told him he’d get hungry and want to leave within the first ten minutes. But now that he was really thinking about it, staying here with George didn’t seem like a bad way to spend eternity.

“Kiss me again?”

Dream couldn’t do anything but obey his request. He leaned in to pepper kisses over George’s face, over his cheeks and eyelids and each of his freckles, not missing a single one. It was when Dream reached the corner of his mouth that George tilted his head, so that Dream barely had time to stop himself from making contact with the one place they had always avoided. 

Their lips were millimetres apart — Dream could feel each and every one of George's slightly laboured breaths against his skin. His hands still held the slight curve of a pale waist, and one of George's hands cupped his neck, the other was tangled in his hair. They had never been closer together, yet Dream still wanted to move forward and close the miniscule distance between them. 

"George, please—" 

Their lips were pressed together before he could get another word out. 

Kissing George was not quite how Dream had thought it would be, and Dream had thought about it a lot. For starters, George was far less reserved than he had anticipated he would be during their first proper kiss, but Dream wasn't complaining. 

George easily won their brief fight for dominance, and held Dream down against the mattress as he slipped his tongue into his mouth. Dream gasped at the sensation, which only seemed to encourage George further. He tugged softly, experimentally, on Dream's hair, as if to gauge his reaction, and Dream felt George's smile against his lips when he let out a faint moan. 

Every movement was filled with desperation, built up over years of longing that was only amplified by each day they spent apart. Despite this, there was still a gentleness in their touch, affection traded between their tongues and devotion spread across their bodies with each caress of fingers over skin. 

Of course Dream had hoped that George would be a good kisser. But this? This was fucking fantastic. Before, they had been hesitant in taking their relationship this step further, but Dream's only regret was not having the courage to do it sooner. 

When they finally broke apart, Dream subconsciously chased George's lips — an action that made George's smile grow even wider. 

"Do you have any idea how long I've been thinking about doing that?" George murmured, directly into Dream's ear. Dream involuntarily shivered at the closeness of George's voice, how low and enthralling it sounded when the words were spoken for him and him alone. 

"Probably just as long as I have," Dream replied breathlessly, and George only hugged him tighter. 

"I wanted to kiss you when we were in the pool, and in the McDonald's," George confessed, his fingers tracing patterns across Dream's back as he spoke, "I think I would've kissed you on the first morning if I could, but I didn't know how you'd react. I wanted to wait for you." 

"I would've let you." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"Will you let me right now?" 

George slid his hands up from Dream's back to cup his face, brushing over his lips with his thumb, pressing down on the soft flesh so it dipped beneath his touch. 

"Of course." 

The second kiss wasn't quite the same as the first — it lacked most of the desperation. They both seemed to remember that there was no need for them to rush, that they were free to take as much time as they wanted. It was far gentler, somewhere along the lines of mutual worship as they carved out a place of devotion for themselves in each other's souls.

George's hands caressed Dream's face, before travelling over his neck and shoulders, sliding over his arms and finally settling on his hips. He kissed Dream with slow passion, in a way that made Dream reconsider his choice of how he would spend eternity. Cuddling with George made his heart feel full to the brim with happiness he couldn't truly put into words, but this was far more than enough to make it overflow. 

From an outsider's perspective, falling for your best friend may seem like an overly complex ordeal, with far too many pre-existing strings that would need to be cut if everything suddenly went downhill. Dream and George hadn't ever had any of those worries. They took everything at their own pace, and it all came to naturally — it was so easy to adore each other, and they wouldn't have it any other way. 

They stayed there together for as long as they could, trading lazy kisses as the sun crept into the room through the gap in the curtains, slowly travelling up the wall as a new day began. 

When it eventually got too late to stay in bed any longer, Dream silenced George's protests with a fleeting kiss, distracting him for long enough to slip away to the bathroom. George's halfhearted complaints continued until he shut the door behind him. Though Dream knew that all his threats were empty; George would never actually take Patches and leave, not without getting his extra five minutes in bed first. 

He smiled to himself as he undressed and got in the shower, and pictured a time, at some point in the near future, where he would strike up the confidence to invite George in here with him. The overwhelming domesticity that came with the idea of washing each other's hair did nothing to rid the bright smile from his lips. 

The smile didn't fade when George barged in ten minutes later, asking Dream if he could make pancakes this morning even though it wasn't a Wednesday, because he thought that this morning was special enough to warrant them. Dream agreed with him instantly, and George thanked him with another kiss — it felt just as wonderful as the first. 

It was only amplified when after they'd eaten, they ended up brushing their teeth side by side, watching their reflections in the bathroom mirror when George stood on his tiptoes in an attempt to be taller than him for just a second, and failed miserably. 

Even when Sapnap walked in on them making out, both of them sat in Dream's desk chair, he only laughed, shouting apologies to his friend who was walking out the door with a hand over his eyes. 

He was still smiling weeks later when the three of them were sitting together in the living room, at the end of another movie night. Sapnap had dozed off around half an hour ago, and the movie had finished just afterwards. George's head was resting on his shoulder, breathing steady, yet Dream could tell that he was wide awake. 

"Want to do something?" Dream whispered, so as not to wake Sapnap. 

"Depends, what did you have in mind?" George whispered back. 

"We could sit in the hot tub and make out and look at the stars?" 

"You're such a romantic," George scoffed, but he was already getting to his feet, tugging Dream by the hand to their room to retrieve their swim shorts. 

"You love it."

After he was finished changing, he turned back around to catch George's eyes still trained on where his bare ass had been just a second previously. 

"Were you watching me change?" Dream asked, attempting to sound scandalised. He placed his hands over his nipples in a pointless show of covering himself, and put on a terrible British accent that made George want to burn his eardrums until they disintegrated, "I am positively outraged by your impudence, George." 

George only rolled his eyes at Dream's theatrics. 

"Nothing I haven't seen before," George said with a grin, gaze now trailing up Dream's chest, "And I bet you don't even know what that word means."

Dream faltered, and George laughed in the face of his defeat. 

"Besides," George continued, "You seem to be forgetting that yesterday you literally sucked—" 

"Okay, okay, you win," Dream interrupted, "I won't tell you off for staring at my ass again, can we go outside now?" 

"I thought you'd never ask." 

In all the months Dream had lived at this house, he had only sat in the hot tub three times. The first two were with Sapnap, when they had both felt like doing something other than ordering pizza and watching a movie. It had been fun, George had even joined them on facetime for a short while — Dream had to hang up pretty quickly after Sapnap threatened to dunk his phone under the water because George tried convincing Dream to go back inside and watch Better Call Saul with him. Sapnap complained very loudly when Dream left just twenty minutes later.

The third time, he was alone. It was in the weeks before George's visa had been approved, on a night where he had been seeking a distraction from his loneliness. He had slid into the water and sat there for no longer than five minutes before he had begun imagining what George would look like in the seat across from him. When the tears had started to fall he was powerless to stop them, sobs wracking his body and leaving his throat sore from their intensity. He hadn't gone back in the hot tub again after that. 

George seemed to sense his apprehension as they approached the hot tub, squeezing his hand in reassurance. 

"I know this was your idea but do you still want to do this? I can go grab us some ice cream and we can just go back to our room and cuddle, if you want." 

The sweetness and sincerity was too much for Dream. He took George's face between the palms of his hands and he kissed him, hard and slow, under the watchful eyes of the stars. 

Dream's eyes slipped shut instinctively, but a small part of himself wished that he could keep them open and watch as the moonlight glided over George's figure. In the sunlight he always looked ethereal, but there was something about seeing him beneath a ceiling of celestial bodies that made Dream wonder if George was one of them. It would make sense, he thought, for George to be made of stardust. 

When they finally parted, Dream rested their foreheads together, and whispered his words like a precious secret, "Genuinely what did I do to deserve you? You're perfect, so perfect."

George laughed, and Dream swore that solar systems evaporated on his tongue.

"You are sappy today," George giggled, turning one of Dream's hands from where it still held his cheek and planting a kiss to the palm.

A love confession had never been this close to spilling from Dream's lips.

"Let's just get in the hot tub, you big baby, you've got constellations to teach me about," George smiled, tugging Dream towards the water. 

"Did you just call me baby?" Dream asked, and George shook his head in fond amusement. 

"You really just hear what you want to hear, don't you?" 

George broke their eye contact, turning to climb into the hot tub, sinking into the warm water with a sigh. He then turned back to Dream, offering his hand for Dream to take. Dream took his hand and followed him into the water, sitting himself directly next to George so that their shoulders and thighs pressed together. He felt George lean into the contact. 

"Well," Dream continued as though there had been no interruption, "I didn't hear you deny it."

"I called you a baby, but I guess you can be my baby too, if you want to be."

Dream's breath caught in his throat, but the way he was looking at George seemed to be enough of an answer.

George tilted his head back, sliding down in his seat a little to rest his head against the edge of the hot tub. He gazed up at the expanse of the sky above them, with wondrous eyes and lips parted in awe. Dream mimicked his actions so the two of them were side by side again, two pairs of eyes flitting over the cosmos in disorganised unity. 

Beneath the water, George's hand settled on Dream's thigh. Dream's breath audibly hitched, and he knew George was smiling, even though he couldn't see it. The fingers began to move in small arcs, caressing over the fabric of his shorts — a barrier that Dream was considering removing from his body, for the innocent purpose of feeling George's comforting touch against his own freckled skin.

"Baby?" George murmured, and his voice was soft, low, "Tell me about the stars."

Dream inhaled, the scent of chlorine heavy in the air, though he couldn't help but notice something else too — George's shampoo.

It was as though every part of himself had been slowly attuned to George, so much so that not a minute went by where Dream didn't think about him, where something unassuming and mundane didn't manage to trigger a memory they shared. The numbers of hoodies he couldn't wear, movies he couldn't watch, even soaps he couldn't use without being reminded of George were staggering, and only increasing with each passing day. From now on, Dream knew that whenever he looked at the stars, his thoughts were sure to stray to a face painted in a gorgeous expression of amazement, an accented voice resonating prettily against his eardrums, and a delicate hand resting on his thigh. 

He wondered how easy it would be to install a glass ceiling in their bedroom, so that he might be regularly reminded of right now. 

"Have you ever heard the story of Perseus and Andromeda?" Dream whispered, love bleeding uncontrollably into each syllable he spoke. 

"I haven't," George answered, somehow sounding equally as infatuated, a permanent smile making home on his lips, "Tell it to me." 

"You know Zeus, right?"

George hummed in assent. 

"Well, one of his many children was called Perseus. And for a lot of strange reasons I won't bother explaining, he was given the task of slaying Medusa, and bringing back her head. Surprisingly, he managed it, and on his way back he came across Andromeda, who was chained up and awaiting death by a massive sea monster." 

"How big though? Are we talking regular sea monster standards or like the god-destroying kind?" George interrupted. Dream wondered if he'd ever stop finding George's random trains of thought as stupidly endearing as he did, and came to the conclusion that he never would. 

"I mean, this guy totally wrecked the entire of Ethiopia if that helps you picture it better."

"It does, thanks, please continue." 

"Andromeda was supposedly the most beautiful woman in the lands, so naturally Perseus instantly fell in love with her. He slayed the sea monster—"

"Slayed," George repeated, giggling to himself. It took the rest of Dream's remaining willpower not to stop his story in favour of kissing every inch of George's face. Twice. Then perhaps a third time, and a fourth, until George pushed him away and demanded that it was his turn. 

"He killed the sea monster," Dream corrected, barely stopping himself from laughing too — George's laugh was infectious, "And then asked for Andromeda's hand in marriage." 

"Let me guess, they lived happily ever after?" 

"Not just yet. You see, Andromeda was already promised to someone else, and of course that meant that Perseus had to fight him. Perseus won, obviously, and he and Andromeda were married soon after. Their story was immortalised in the stars as a lesson for all those who came after them, and a reminder of their love." 

There was a pause of thoughtful silence, in which Dream turned his head to look at George, whose eyes were still flitting over the sky. 

"Imagine loving someone so much that it got painted in the stars," George said, also turning his head to meet Dream's eyes, "Imagine we had our own constellation, that would be epic."

The depth of meaning behind those words filled Dream with the innate desire to pull George closer to him, press them together until their souls twined into one and they never had to separate again. There was something in George's eyes that told Dream that he wanted the same. 

"In case it wasn't obvious, I'm in love with you. Extremely in love with you. I'm so in love with you that it's kind of embarrassing at this point. All you'd have to do is ask and I'd pull stars out of the sky just to make you smile." 

For a few seconds after Dream's confession, George did nothing but stare back at him, open-mouthed. Then, just as Dream was on the verge of apologising, of taking it all back, George stood up, swung his leg over both of Dream's so that he was straddling him, and promptly sat down in Dream's lap. 

"It was really fucking obvious," George said, taking Dream's face in his hands, "But I appreciate the confirmation."

Dream opened his mouth to reply, perhaps to voice the uncertainty that was still present in his chest, but the words in his throat were replaced by George's tongue before they could be spoken. 

It wasn't an unwelcome replacement — far from it — and the kiss felt utterly unparalleled, yet there was a nagging voice in the far depths of Dream's mind that prevented him from enjoying it fully. Only a few more seconds passed before George withdrew, his brow creased in concern momentarily, before understanding spread across his features. 

"I love you too, by the way, so much. I hope you know that, even if I don't say it a lot." George brushed a strand of hair out of Dream's eyes, unintentionally dampening it with his wet hand, before continuing, "I'd do anything for you too, whatever you want, it's yours." 

"George," Dream said, pitching his voice to sound almost tearful, "You're really saying that you'd actually do your own laundry for once?" 

"I lied. Everything apart from that."

"Buy me a wax statue of myself then," Dream amended, and George flicked him on the forehead. 

"You have to buy one of me first, I've been asking you for way longer."

There was a pause, in which it was clear that neither of them were backing down. However, as both of them had expected, it only took a few more seconds for Dream to concede. 

"How about we both get one and then they can, like, hold hands or something."

George laughed, and Dream was content in the fact that he would get to hear that sound every day for the rest of his life. 

"Sapnap would probably buy a flamethrower and melt them both, he's already sick of us, DNF wax figures would probably be the final straw."

"It would still be funny though, and we could post about it."

"Yeah, I bet no one's ever announced their relationship before using life size wax figures," George said, pressing a kiss to the corner of Dream's lips as an afterthought. 

"Relationship?"

"Dream, I thought you were smarter than this, I obviously need you to be my boyfriend for my ultimate clickable thumbnail, and then the intro too. I can see it now, my boyfriend bought me wax statues of us, watch to the end to find out exactly what we did with them!" 

"Why did you say it like that?" Dream cackled, unable to keep a straight face at his boyfriend's ridiculousness. 

"Like what?" George asked, with innocence that Dream knew wasn’t genuine.

"You just— you made it sound bad." 

"Bad how?”

“The type of bad that gets your YouTube video age restricted.”

“I don’t know what you were planning to do with these wax figures, but—”

Dream chose this moment to cut him off with a kiss, because he really couldn’t go another second with this man in his lap where they weren’t making out, and also because he couldn’t think of a witty response to fire back at George. 

He could feel his boyfriend smiling into the kiss, evidently aware of Dream’s fairly obvious motives, but George didn’t pull away. He let himself be kissed, and kissed back with equal passion, with equal love, because he knew that there would be more than enough time for talking later. 

They had the rest of their lives to talk — and maybe kiss some more, okay, a lot more — but for now, they were content to enjoy their moment together under the stars, knowing that they would wake up every morning, and be even more in love with each other than they were the morning before. 

The majority of people wouldn’t wish for immortality, saying it would get boring, or that no one really wants to live forever. Dream thought they were liars, or perhaps just hadn’t yet discovered love as pure as this. Because, in Dream’s opinion, if each day was as perfect as today, if each day was spent with George, then forever sounded pretty damn nice.