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It’s a fairly normal day in their household. George and Dream weave between each other in a way that showcases the years they’ve spent together in harmony. Dream scrubs at a cookie tray in his hands with the sink running loudly. George in turn wipes down the recently washed plates neatly preferring this method over their dishwasher. Honestly the thing is quite pointless. It takes three cycles for it to barely work. An utter waste of water. They should really really look into getting a new one.
As Dream shuts off the tap having finished the last of everything George pauses. Senses on high alert as a troubled feeling creeps along his spine. The house is eerily quiet. Not a peep to be heard. Something that is severely concerning when raising a considerably active five year old.
George furrows his eyebrows. He pulls himself away from the kitchen taking a peek into the living room. There’s a few toys scattered on the floor but otherwise no sign of their son. He returns to the kitchen taking a glance at Dream who’s swiping a paper towel along the counter, “Have you seen Tommy recently?”
Dream hums contemplating showing little concern , “Actually no.”
He tosses the paper towel into the trash meeting George’s gaze, “Maybe he’s outside.”
George nods. Seems logical enough. George can’t deny it’s a major relief that Tommy enjoys the outdoors. The boy needs the sunshine. George smiles at that. Tommy is a little ray of sunshine himself.
George enters the living room making his way to the sliding glass doors to look into the backyard.
Instantly he stops in place as if commanded by a supernatural force. His eyes are glued onto something in the distance. His pulse quickens as he witnesses the scene unfold. He whispers lowly, “Jesus Fucking Christ.”
It’s not long before he’s shouting shrilly across the house in a demanding tone, “Dream!”
He doesn’t care how it fills the space abrasively.
Not even two seconds later Dream rushes into the room with a panicked expression gracing his features. His voice is laced with growing alarm, “What’s wrong Georgie?”
George doesn’t even turn around to look at his husband. He continues to stare into the backyard in disbelief. He knows, he knows, he’s raising a little chaos child but honestly this is something he couldn’t have ever possibly conjured to be prepared for. He remains silent.
Dream slowly approaches George feeling entirely left in the dark. He places a gentle hand on George’s shoulder questioning softly, “Love?”
George takes a deep breath, Dream’s touch fails to placate him, “I cannot believe…”
His shoulders tense under Dream’s touch as he huffs to himself frowning deeply in a way that threatens wrinkles, “He’s definitely your son.”
Dream raises an eyebrow. If he was swimming in confusion before now he’s drowning in it.
Wondering why he didn’t think of it earlier Dream follows the direction that George’s vision is locked on. His breath catches, disbelief evident in his voice, “Is that…?”
George groans having the urge to slump backwards and let gravity do its work, “How did he even manage that?”
Not waiting another minute George grabs onto Dream’s hand. He throws open the glass door and drags Dream forward as he stomps his way further into the backyard.
He starts to slow down once they’re a couple feet from the…situation.
George shifts on his feet unable to determine where to go from here. Where does one even begin to address this? He’s 100% positive this is not in any of the parenting books out there.
Tommy stands in the yard innocently with a decent sized cardboard box placed on the grass sitting next to him.
There’s a large smile planted on his face that is so bright it’s nearly blinding. A smile caused by an armful of raccoon which is nibbling disturbingly in a human-like manner as it clutches a cookie from a batch that Dream made earlier possessively.
George’s smile is pained. His voice clearly struggles to stay under control as he addresses his son, “Tommy.”
Tommy whips his head up. Not too surprising for his character the large grin remains. He goes to raise his hand to wave happily at his parents although he seems to think better of it as the raccoon shifts in his hold, “Hi Papa!”
George just stares at him. Unimpressed. He purses his lips, “Whatchya got there honey?”
Tommy straightens his stance looking as triumphant as much as a five year old can. He glimmers with satisfaction and achievement, “A friend!”
Dream stares at the box, in shock, “Where did you even learn how to catch that thing?”
It’s a fair point.
A serious look passes on Tommy’s face as his hold on the raccoon remains secure. George is simply baffled on how unbothered the animal is. No way is that normal.
There’s a sparkle of pride in Tommy’s eyes as he speaks, “Tubbo taught me at recess. We caught some bunnies so”, he shrugs casually, “thought it would work with raccoons too.”
Dream’s head whips around shooting George a sharp look. George knows exactly what he’s about to do. About to go on a long spiel about how he’s completely justified and correct that Tommy’s best friend is a menace. Perhaps an endearing menace but a menace nonetheless.
George does not want to here it. He glares at Dream, “Don’t even start.”
Dream huffs immaturely in response causing George to rub his eyes tiredly, “Fix this please.”
Dream obliges approaching Tommy while keeping a wary eye on the raccoon. He hesitates trying to find the right words, “You did a…great job buddy but don’t you think it’s time to let Mr. Raccoon go?”
Tommy clutches the raccoon tighter taking a step back. The raccoon makes an odd sound that George can’t tell is a growl or a squeak. Clearly it’s one of discomfort making nervousness crawl along George’s skin in a near burning sensation. His heart beats faster in his chest.
Dream stops advancing. He lowers a knee down onto the ground so he’s level with Tommy hoping to be more convincing.
Tommy frowns not too pleased, “Why?”
“Because he’s meant to be outside. Free. He’s a wild animal Toms.”
Tommy looks at the raccoon in his arms tossing his Daddy’s words around in his head. He ends up not convinced. He can handle his friend, “I can feed him cookies.” Tommy brightens as warmth swirls in his chest, “He likes those!”
Dream has the strong urge to groan but manages to hold it back. Really he should be praised for his restraint, “Maybe so but he’s not meant to come inside.”
Dream points at the raccoon to emphasize his point, “In fact we shouldn’t catch them. I know you love raccoons buddy but they can be dangerous.”
Tommy narrows his eyes shaking his head condescendingly, “Nuh uh Daddy. Mr. Raccoon is very nice.”
Once again Tommy holds the raccoon tighter pulling the wild animal closer against his chest.
Dream hopes to anything and everything that the thing won’t lash out.
Dream wracks his brain on how to reason with his son. Unfortunately Tommy gets his stubbornness from both Dream and George.
George has had enough of the situation. He intervenes making his way to Dream’s side before things can get worse. He crosses his arms against his chest. His tone leaves no room for argument, “Tommy, put him down.”
Tommy looks from his Papa to the raccoon and then repeats the process. A frown paints his face. He knows that tone. He knows there’s no winning. But that doesn’t mean he’s not sad about it.
Even if Tommy knows his Papa only wants what’s best.
George raises an eyebrow waiting impatiently.
Tommy pouts while dutifully placing the raccoon on the grass.
The parents expect the ordeal to be over. Yet of course the universe has other plans.
Instead of bolting from the backyard the animal curls around Tommy’s legs nuzzling against him like a cat. Tommy beams at the action, “See! I told you he likes me!”
He clasps his hands in a pleading gesture, “Please please pleasee can we keep him?”
It’s an adorable sight. Causing Dream to hesitate and George’s lips to twitch.
Tommy’s ridiculously cute but this is a raccoon for God’s sake.
As Tommy keeps up the pleading relentlessly George’s eye begins to twitch. He has the urge to swipe up the animal himself and scold the thing like a misbehaving child. Shortly after he comes to the conclusion he’s apparently losing his mind.
Dream tilts his head in the way that means he’s deep in thought. He murmurs, “It’s like a cat.”
George glares at his husband. Why was he expecting help?
Somehow he keeps his composure, “Tommy we can’t take care of him properly”, he pauses, “it…wouldn’t be fair to him.”
Tommy ceases his pleading. He shifts on his feet with a tad of anxiousness. He doesn’t want to hurt his friend.
Dream jumps at the opportunity to sway Tommy, “How about we get a cat instead?”
Tommy’s blue eyes widen in interest. George whips his head to glare daggers at the back of his husband’s head. It comes out as a near hiss, “Dream.”
George does love cats. He’s just not too sure how a cat would fit into their family right now.
Tommy fiddles with his fingers, “Mmm not as cool as a raccoon.”
Dream scoffs sounding offended, “They sure are Toms.”
He stands up straightening his posture, “How about we go to the shelter tomorrow and you can have a look?”
Tommy tilts his head mirroring Dream. Dream and George hold their breath waiting for his verdict. Slowly Tommy nods. He bends down scooping the raccoon back into his arms. He squeezes it once in a gentle manner bringing it dangerously close to his face as he whispers into its ear.
Then he places it back down. The raccoon instantly scampers away heading towards the safety of the thick trees all the way in the back of the yard.
Tommy waves while teetering back and forth from the force, “See you around Mr. Raccoon.” A small smile returns to his face as he shouts across the clearing, “Tell everyone I say hi!”
Dream mumbles under his breath as a new wave of concern crashes over his body, “Everyone?”
There’s more?
Tommy, now apparently completely over the small squabble, skips over to Dream tugging on his arm, “Daddy can I have some more cookies? I gave mine to my friend.”
Dream has a glazed look in his eyes as he barely processes Tommy’s words, “Of course you can bud.”
Tommy jumps for joy with a bout of energy. He scampers to the house with unparalleled speed. George finds his soul returning to his body as shouts after him, “No more than two!”
Tommy doesn’t look back while yelling in agreement, “Okay Papa!”
George rubs his temples as a headache grows pounding in his skull. He has large doubts Tommy is going to stick to that promise. They should follow after him considering the cookies are placed high enough that Tommy has to crawl up onto the counter to reach them.
George lowers his hand directing his attention to his husband, “You coming?”
Dream doesn’t respond. George walks over to him. He stares up at Dream who is still enthralled in the abyss. He flicks Dream on the forehead causing a slight sting, “Earth to Dreamy.”
Dreamy whispers in, amazement?, “Our son is like a raccoon whisperer. The raccoon whisperer.”
George bites the inside of his cheek. He picks up the cardboard box that used to store a vase gifted by his mother in-law. He hopes it’s not laying shattered to bits around the house somewhere, “Don’t encourage it.”
Finally Dream snaps out of it. He grins down at George with a mischievous aire about him, “You can’t say that wasn’t impressive!”
George stares at Dream intensely wondering to himself how this is the love of his life, “Sometimes I question my sanity for marrying you.”
Dream’s grin only widens at the words. Both him and George know George doesn’t mean a word of it. He teases George nudging him playfully, “You’re right. It’s absolute insanity to have married the most wonderful dreamy man on the planet.”
George rolls his eyes leaning into Dream’s side, “Keep telling yourself that Dreamy,”
Dream looks smugly at George, non-bashful, “I will.”
He plops a kiss on the top of George’s head lovingly. Hands pulling George closer by his waist.
A genuine smile grows on George’s lips as a fluttering sensation swirls to life in his chest.
Dream hums watching George’s reaction with rapt attention, “Second to you of course. No one can out do you my love.”
Dream pledges it to the stars and moon.
George’s smile deepens at that. He opens his mouth to tease Dream. Suddenly his eyes grow wide as a realization smacks him in the face.
Panic rings in the small space between them, “We forgot to tell him to wash his hands.”
There’s a tense beat where the parents stare at each other in shock. Quickly untangling themselves they sprint to the glass doors mumbling a stream of curses under their breath as they go to rescue their feral son.