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“Dream.”
“George,” He answers, amusement curving up the name.
“Why did you post that picture?” He asks, curled up in the dark of his bedroom, voice hushed.
“I dunno,” He can practically see the shrug, “I was bored.”
“Bored?”
“Yeah,” A click of his tongue and he’s still not getting it, “You’re busy with Karl all the time and I’m just sitting here.”
“So you just post a whole picture of your face on the internet?”
“My face wasn’t in it,” Realization is leaking into his voice now, “Wait, are you giving me shit for this?”
George picks at his sweatpants, easing his words, “You said you’d wait for me.”
“I am waiting for you,” Dream suddenly switches to his Patches voice, “I’m counting down the days, George.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t. That picture-”
“You’ve been saying that I don’t even have to wait, for years,” He argues, “So why are you switching up now that I posted something that vaguely shows anything?”
“Because I want you first, Dream,” George bites, as if he didn’t spend hours observing every detail of the picture, “I deserve to have you first, before any of them.”
“You have me, you’re getting me first. Just a few more days, George,” He assures.
“Seriously, Dream, I need you to-”
“Why are you even jealous of people who don’t know me?” Dream sighs, “They’re going to see me eventually.”
“I don’t even know,” He admits.
“Well,” Dream clicks his tongue and George can hear the creak of his chair as he leans back. He chides, “You know me. And I know you. And I want you to get me first, to- to see me before anyone else. Okay?”
“You sure?” George weakly asks, though his stomach flips in satisfaction over those words.
“Certain,” Dream assures, “You get all of me first.”
“All of you.”
“Well,” A huff of amusement, “My face, I mean.”
“Okay.”
Dream’s chair creaks again and George hears the gentle intake of his breath as if he’s going to say more. There’s a pause though before he releases it as, “Do you ever think you won’t like all of me? Like you won’t be able to look me in the eye because I’m like.. weird or something?”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to look away, honestly,” George tells him, safely confessing in the dark of his room.
“Really?”
“Yeah, you’ll be there. I could like touch you, you’d be right in front of me.”
“Touch me?” His voice cracks on the word.
“Your face, I mean.” George’s cheeks warm. He wants to add ‘and all of you.’
“Will you?” And Dream doesn’t sound exactly opposed to the idea.
“I don’t know.”
“When would you touch me?” His voice is suddenly near a whisper.
“When we’re alone,” He thinks aloud first and then corrects, “Anytime. Whenever.”
“You can,” There’s not an inch of movement on the other line, “Whenever.”
“Okay.”
“Can..” Now there’s a shift, and his voice is from further away from the mic, “Can I touch you?”
“When? Where?”
“Whenever,” Dream hums, “Wherever.”
“You.. want to touch me?” He’d never let himself fall into thoughts on such a thing before. He knows Dream is touchy from Sapnap’s accounts but he always dismissed how it’d translate for their relationship.
Dream is silent for a beat and then he admits, “Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” He implores.
“Not-“ Dream scoffs, “Not like that, I made it sound weird. Just like your hands or your hair or- I don’t know.”
George shifts, pulling his blankets up onto his legs, glancing at the clock on his nightstand. Then he mumbles, “Yeah, Dream. You can touch me.”
“Like Karl does?”
“No,” He shuts down immediately, wrinkling his nose, “You’re different.”
“Less?” Dream strains, voice small.
He can’t say more, the word won’t slip past his lips for the sake of not seeming desperate. But he knows he can’t say nothing at all so he blanches, “Dream.”
“Why does he- No, I mean like, do I not get that? With you?” The other struggles to get the words out, like he’s watching them carefully, “Like that’s okay but-“
“Dream,” George cuts him off, smiling dumbly about the other’s attempts not to get jealous, “You can. Just.. different.”
“I can touch you.. differently?” The word curves on his tongue in confusion.
“Yes.” He provides no more explanation, “When I’m there, in a few days, you can.”
“Do I get a hug when you get home then?” Dream asks meekly.
George’s heart squeezes at the word home, he can’t help but tease, “Maybe.”
“Do you think you’ll cry?” The other questions for the first time seriously.
“No,” He pauses and considers that for a second, “I don’t know.”
“I’m gonna cry.”
“I know you are,” George rolls his eyes.
“I’m going to hug you,” Dream resolves stubbornly, “You don’t have a choice, I’m getting a George hug.”
“You’re an idiot.”
Dream hums, “Are you tired?”
“You sound tired,” George says instead.
“Will you sleep with me?” Dream asks after switching over to his phone.
“Yeah, get in bed,” George hums, already moving to lie down. He puts it on speaker, listening to the shift of the other’s sheets.
“I mean here, will you sleep with me?” It’s the first time it’s been said with no punchline, it makes George stop and blink down at the name on his screen.
He traces the letters, the most personal piece of Dream that he’s ever had, and tells him, “The first night.” He makes a face at admitting it and then tries to salvage with, “After that, we’ll see.”
Dream says nothing for many long moments that George watches the call-time change, settled down in his own bed so far away. His voice is slightly muffled, the phone must be amongst his sheets, but George still hears the promise, “I’ll hold you.”
He doesn’t know what to say to that, something in the very integrals of his being squeezing tightly in something like delight. He says it to his ceiling, “Okay.”
“Is that okay? Is that.. different?” Dream says the word like it holds a bigger question.
“Dream,” George pleads, scared of this line of questioning.
“I need to know,” The other answers hoarsely.
And he doesn’t sleep with Karl, of course he doesn’t. And he doesn’t get held. He extends his hand in front of him, parting his fingers and counting as if it’s ever changed in the past 25 years. Just to be sure it’s real. He hears Dream shift uneasily and he asks, “Do you promise?”
“Promise what?” Dream questions thickly.
“You’ll hold me?”
“I’ll hold you, George.” He promises, earnesty in his voice that makes it crack again.
“Okay.”
“And you’ll get me first.”
“Okay.”
“And you’ll touch me. Whenever. Wherever.” Dream promises him more than he asks for, like he always does.
“Okay,” George repeats again and then grants, “It’s okay.”
“And different?” Dream asks him to promise this time.
“And different, Dream.” He turns over under his covers and stares at the name again. He smiles, just privately to himself, watching the numbers tick.
“Going to sleep?” Dream asks, never able to tell once he goes quiet.
“Yeah.” He imagines arms as a comforting weight on his waist, “Just a few more days.”
“Yeah,” And George can hear him smile around the word. A shift, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Sapnap, with all his lack of camera skills, still manages to catch him crying like a blubbering mess. Tears stick thickly to his eyelashes and his nose goes rosy, he falls into Dream’s extended arms as if it’s the first proper step towards coming home. Dream, despite all of their expectations, has no tears in his eyes.
They aren’t even watery, face holding this blank expression as if he can’t even process the moment. He captures George in tight arms, holding him to his chest, lips parted like he doesn’t know what to say. Then he presses his face into his hair, voice cracking, “George.”
George isn’t quite to ugly sobbing but he can’t gather himself to produce understandable words. He just tightens his own hold, trembling, and Dream holds him steady. He feels like they’ll never let go of each other, never wanting to let go, finally together after so many years. They practically don’t, even after Sapnap joins them in a group hug, and they technically all part.
But still, Dream is lingering with a touch on his elbow, laughing at him for his tears happily. His face scrunches with his laughter and George scrubs at his face so he doesn’t fall apart all over again. He’s mostly tired but he accepts the chance to talk in person, the three of them leaning against the kitchen counters.
They talk about his flight and when he’d packed his stuff up with Karl, which they’ve talked about before but repeat the conversation just to hear their voices with no static. Dream’s voice is deeper slightly, with an extra lower tone to it that George has never gotten to hear before. His teeth are crooked slightly and so is his smile and he glows with the sun lighting him up.
George honestly can’t keep his eyes off him, drinking him all in, taking in the things he’s only ever gotten to hear. Dream’s leg bounces as he leans, fingers tapping when he’s not talking with his hands, hair curling over his forehead. He brushes it back sometimes and his eyebrows always wrinkle in annoyance when he does.
Dream’s eyes are all over him too, despite seeing him before, taking him in as if he’s brand new. It’s a bit intimidating with the height difference, even has the blonde slouches, though Dream radiates warmth. Him and Sapnap are constantly arguing to get a word in first and George’s words are dying on his tongue.
Once the two tune into that fact, Sapnap threatens Dream that he’s not allowed to show George his room before he returns from taking a piss. Once they’re alone, Dream smiles at him, softening slightly. He pushes off the counter, stepping closer daringly, pointing out, “You cried.”
“You didn’t.”
“It hit me all at once, I seriously thought I would.”
“It hit me all at once,” He argues, tilting his head. Dream tilts his back, blinking down at him. George reaches, faltering for a second before he requests, “Let me look at you.”
Dream dips his head to meet his touch, cheeks warm under his palms. When he smiles, pink spreads to his freckled cheeks, and George can’t help but smile back. He tells him, “You look different in person.”
“Yeah?”
“Didn’t know you have a freckle here,” He pokes his cheek, trailing the finger down to another spot, “And here.”
George hums, stroking gentle thumbs over the bags under his eyes, “You don’t look weird. You just look like you. Maybe a slightly more tired version of you.”
“I got like two hours of sleep last night,” Dream admits and laughs.
George wraps him up in another hug, just to press their chests together and soak in some of his warmth. He feels the way Dream’s frame bounces with his laughter, even as arms wrap around him in return. Sapnap clears his throat to get their attention, asking, “Ready?”
“Finally, I’m exhausted,” George rolls his eyes, releasing Dream again. He makes the other two bring his bags upstairs, this part of the meetup just for the three of them. Sapnap makes a big show of opening his door, being greeted with a very bare room. His boxes are all stacked up from being shipped over, taking up most of the room.
He makes a big show of being amazed, having already seen his room over facetime before. Then he’s left alone to go to bed, food the last thing on his mind for once when his eyelids feel so heavy. His sleep clothes are an odd familiar comfort, soft against his skin, but everything still has the foreign feel as if he’s just staying in a hotel.
He leaves his airport clothes abandoned on the floor, heading down the hall to one of the doors that’d been pointed out to him. Dream is sitting with his legs crossed on top of his covers, in a different shirt now, looking down at his phone. George takes in the way he’s slouched and resting his elbows on his knees as he scrolls.
When he looks up, George says, “Hey.”
“Come here,” Dream pats the spot next to him.
George climbs up next to him, leaning into his shoulder, mumbling to him, “Let’s go to sleep.”
“One second,” Dream looks back at his phone, opening Discord and typing something out to someone in reply. Then he clicks it off, arm slipping around his waist and squeezing him even closer, “You look actually exhausted.”
“Told you ‘m tired,” George murmurs, fingers tugging on the other’s thin shirt.
He’s squeezed again, “Okay, get in bed.”
Dream flicks off the lights, black-out curtains bathing them in darkness as George slides under the covers. The bed dips and he blinks so his eyes adjust. The other doesn’t touch him, the two of them on their sides facing each other. He’s told, “I didn’t think you were serious about sleeping in here.”
“Really?”
“I dunno, I thought meeting would freak you out a bit.”
“I did freak out a bit,” George points out, “I can’t believe I’m here.”
“You’re here,” Dream echoes, as if he’s remembering that fact. George’s eyes are adjusted enough now that he sees his expression twist painfully. And then Dream allows himself to cry, privately with just the two of them, tears falling silently at first. And then he gasps and George reaches for him.
Dream presses his face into his chest and George cradles him in his arms, running fingers through his hair. And Dream swears or something along those lines, sobbing, and arms wrap tightly around his waist. Just like his shoulders bounce with laughter, they also bounce with sobs, and George is pressing kisses into his hair and trying to soothe him.
Dream allows himself a moment before he tries to recover, hands moving instead to grab onto the curve of his waist, head lifting so their eyes meet. He laughs wetly, “Sorry, I’ve just wanted you here for so long. Imagined you right here for so long, in my bed next to me.”
“It’s okay, I’m right here now,” George murmurs, wiping his tears gently.
“Fuck, George,” He laughs again wobbly and presses their cheeks together, “And you’re here forever,” Softer this time, “I get you forever.”
Then he turns, leaning up to slot their lips together tenderly. George’s head spins, not used to this much love all at once. Dream’s fingers dig into his sides but the kiss remains slow, as if getting a feel for them together like this. Their noses brush and they’re smiling just a little and George smoothes his hands over broad shoulders.
Dream pulls away half an inch and chuckles against his mouth happily, apologizing lightly, “Sorry, I’m so delirious from lack of sleep.”
“I can tell,” George observes his eyes closely, watches his gaze drift back down.
Another brush of their lips and he feels the words against his mouth, “I’m in love with you. Actually.”
“I’m tired, can we be in love another time?” He complains, laughing anyway over his own words and how stupid Dream looks in love.
Dream settles down, following through with his promise, pulling him into his chest. His smile turns more private, “Yeah, George. We can be in love tomorrow.”