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Honeyed rays of light seep in through the cracks of the drapes, casting shadows across their messy room. The nightstand by their bed, covered in Dream’s rings, and an empty packet of m&m’s sitting on the floor - the packet George swore he’d pick up later.
Dream isn’t sure what he expected it would be like to simply exist in each other's presence, but it wasn’t this. This was better than anything his mind could have possibly come up with; he traces circles on George’s soft skin, the sheets tangled between their legs as the sound of birds chirping fills the air.
George lazily lays his head onto Dream’s chest, chestnut curls against his skin, his eyes struggling to stay open after the last few busy days. It had been overwhelming - to say the least - but worth it. But none of that mattered now, they could finally be alone.
George feels Dream’s arm holding tightly onto his waist, pulling him in closer. He mentally traces the shapes Dream draws, smiling to himself when he recognises a heart on his back: listening to the sound of Dream’s heartbeat, he feels at peace, finally.
“I could lie here all day,” Dream’s voice is raspy, still laced with sleep. “I don’t think I ever want to move.”
“So don’t,” George tiredly responds, closing his eyes and hugging him closely. “Stay here all day.”
“Oh yeah?”
George hums.
Dream runs his fingers through George’s hair, his soft curls falling back into place so perfectly each time - he’s never felt so in love before. Dream’s in love with every part of George, he’s so perfect in every way possible; from his eyes that shine in the sunlight, to the freckles Dream has already memorised, every part of him is beautiful.
He’s not sure how he got so lucky to end up with someone like George, but he knows he’s done something right. He must have been pretty fucking good in a past life to deserve this, he’s sure of it - he’s not particularly religious, but if you told him George was crafted by God especially for him, he’d believe you.
Neither of them are certain on what time it is, but it’s most likely early morning - they can hear clattering next door which means in about an hour Phil will knock on the door and ask them if they’re ready,
It’s weird, Dream thinks, meeting everyone he’s spoken to for the past few years; seeing them in person after so long, but it’s good. It’s really good.
Especially this.
Especially George.
”When you get here I’m gonna hold you so tight, you know that?” He’d teased so many times, he never thought he’d actually get the chance to do it. He never thought George would actually let him hold him like this, so closely.
It’s a weird limbo, more than friends, less than lovers.
A little time passes before Dream checks his phone to see the time. “We have to get up soon.” He thinks out loud - though getting up isn’t something he wants to do. “We promised everyone we’d meet them for breakfast.”
George stirs. “Don’t want to.”
“Come on,” Dream pokes his side playfully, a wide grin taking over his face. “Wakey wakey.”
“Shut up.” The brunet groans. “Piss off, yeah?”
”Piss off, yeah?” He repeats in what could possibly be considered the worst British accent ever, giggling to himself. “Come on, Georgie. We need to get ready.”
“M’ don’t wanna move.” George murmurs, burying his head further into Dream’s chest. Dream feels his heart flutter, the image of George holding onto him like if he lets go he’ll slip away. He feels a blush creep into his cheeks, suddenly very grateful the other’s eyes seem to be glued shut.
“I’ll pay for your breakfast if you get up.” He bargains.
George doesn’t budge. “You were gonna end up doing that either way.” he insists, part of Dream hates that he’s not wrong.
“Fine,” The dirty blonde tugs away, his entire body instantly shivering at the lack of warmth without George holding him. “I’ll go on my own.”
George’s head jolts up, sleepiness evident in his eyes, his hair slightly disheveled yet still beautiful. “No,” he almost cries out. “You can’t do that.”
“Why?” Dream asks, grabbing a hoodie. “Are you jealous?”
George scoffs. “No. I just don’t wanna be alone.” he quips, pulling the duvet around him. Dream smiles at the sight, taking a mental picture of how adorable he looks in this moment.
“You won’t be alone if you get changed.” He tries to reason with him. It looks like George ponders for a moment, weighing out his options. “Come on, get up.”
“I just want to cuddle.”
Dream smiles, butterflies. “We can cuddle later, c’mon stop being clingy and get up.”
George groans again. “Fine. But I’m holding you to what you said. You pay for breakfast and we cuddle when we get back.”
“Of course.” Dream nods, messing up George's hair with his hand. And it’s strange, there’s a twang in his heart because this is so strange.
This isn’t how friends act. But they’re not lovers— he wants to be, but that’s not what they are. They’re friends, but this isn’t what friends do.
“You alright?” George asks as he forces himself to get out of bed.
Dream shakes himself out of his own thoughts, “Yeah. I’m fine.” he answers, throwing a t-shirt the brunet’s way. George smiles.
—
George spends most of breakfast staring at his best friend.
He’s not sure what everyone’s talking about; nor does he care, all he cares about is the expression on Dream’s face. How his lips part slightly while he pays attention to what’s being said, how his eyes soften as he listens to someone speak. George memorises the way his nose scrunches when he smiles a lot, or how the corner of his eyes crinkle.
It’s cute.
He’s cute.
He studies his face, his jawline, his curly hair. It’s weird finally knowing what he looks like after all these years - a good weird. His eyes look more golden in this light than they do in the hotel, though he knows that they’re green. Dream suits the golden tone though, George thinks. Like the sun, it’s fitting.
George turns away when Dream makes eye contact with him, hiding the fact he’d been staring this whole time. He receives a knowing glance from the dirty blonde, but he ignores it.
He wishes they were sitting closer together.
Karl looks at George with a grin, like he’s trying to tell him he’d seen him staring at Dream the entire time. George rolls his eyes, diverting his focus from both of them. He turns to face Quackity who was talking about some stupid thing Foolish had done the night before, not that anything he was saying actually computed in his head.
All he could focus on was Dream.
It was silly. It was going to leave him hurt, but he just couldn’t seem to help himself. Ever since he got to America, all he could do was look at Dream - really look at him. His eyes; his nose; his lips. All of him. How could he not? He’s beautiful.
He’s Dream.
He’s fucked. He knows he is.
He can’t remember the last time he had a crush; was that what this was? His stomach feels warm and he’s pretty sure his cheeks are a light pink, he can feel Dream's eyes on him - he wonders if he’s noticed him blushing.
Would he mention it if he did?
Does George want him to mention it?
Sort of.
This is silly. All he can think of right now is the fact Dream promised him a cuddle when they get back; and the fact that he’s definitely blushing right now.
“George!” the sound of Karl’s voice brings him back to reality. “Are you even listening, dude?”
“Sorry,” he shakes his head, a slight sense of embarrassment washing over him as he realises everyone is looking at him for an answer. “What did you say?”
“I said,” Karl repeats himself, almost as if he’s holding back a grin. “Do you want to come with us to mini golf after this?”
The brunet pauses for a moment, looking over at Dream, unsure of what to say. He wonders if the dirty blonde is thinking the same as him, if he also wants to skip it so they can be alone.
“We actually have plans to do something else,” Dream answers for him. “But we can still meet you for dinner, if that’s alright?”
Everyone seems to take that as an answer without pressing for more, George was a little surprised by their fast acceptance.
—-
Dream ignores all their friends knowing looks as they say goodbye after breakfast. He also ignores the butterflies in his stomach as they enter their room and George rolls straight back into bed. George wraps himself in the thin duvet, shoes kicked off into the middle of the floor. Dream watches as the brunet gestures to him to come over, there’s only a slight pain in his heart while he thinks about what they could be.
“Why’s this room always so cold?” George complains, pulling Dream closer to him.
The dirty blonde wraps his arm around the other's waist, wondering if George also feels nervous by the sudden intimacy of it all. It seems a lot more real when they aren’t both half asleep. “The AC I’m guessing.”
“Fuck AC.”
A gentle silence falls between the two, Dream swears George is trying to drive him mad with all this clinginess. He feels George’s hand on his back; his thumb running up and down his skin - if this is what he’s trying to do, then he’s certainly succeeding.
There’s nothing platonic about anything of this. He refuses to believe it. There’s nothing platonic about skipping out on plans with your other friends so you can lay in bed together for a few hours - absolutely nothing.
Some time passes, they don’t say much. It’s quiet and they don’t feel the need to fill the silence with pointless words, distracting themselves from the fact that this is a little too intimate from friends. They both bask in the other's presence, aching for more but staying silent about it.
George doesn’t think he can stay silent about it any longer.
“Can I ask you something?” He asks a little too loudly for his liking, a little too eager. He regrets the words as soon as they slip off his tongue but it’s too late now.
Dream turns his head slightly, brown meeting green as a soft smile appears on his face. “Ask me anything.” He replies. George can’t help but feel a little guilty for what he’s about to say; what he’s about to dump on him out of nowhere.
He thinks for a moment, eyebrows furrowed as he weighs out the odds of this being worth it. Dream notices the worried expression plastered on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to ruin things between us,” he admits aloud. There’s a twang in his heart, he wonders if he already has.
Dream stops him before he can continue. “You’re my best friend, George. You could never say anything that would ruin things between us.”
Best friend, of course.
He should forget it.
He can’t.
“Promise me.” George looks serious. Part of Dream wonders where this is going. “Promise me that no matter what your answer is, we will still be friends.”
“George, you're scaring me, what’s the matter?” Dream pulls himself up slightly.
His heart is pounding now, the butterflies in his stomach feel more like moths at this point and every inch of him wishes he just stayed quiet. He supposes it’s too late now.
“Do you think this is weird?”
Oh.
Dream feels his heart drop and suddenly he’s almost certain where this is going. This was it. George thought this was strange too, he thought Dream was strange. He was being too touchy, he didn’t like it, did he? Dream should have seen this coming, he was so stupid for thinking they could ever be more than friends.
“What do you mean?” He tries to play it cool, maybe if he acts well enough he can play it off that this is just how he is with everyone.
“I don’t know,” George groans, throwing his head into his hands. “All of this! Us?”
“Us?”
“Oh come on,” The brunet faces him once again. “Surely you’re thinking the same thing, this isn’t what friends do.”
The air is stiff, they both feel a little frozen and George is certain Dream can hear his heart racing. Maybe he’ll wake up in a second and realise this is all a bad dream.
“What are you saying?” Dream asks. He doesn’t want to hear the answer.
George’s chest tightens. “What are we?”
Silence.
Oh God. Why did he ask? He shouldn’t have asked. Dream thinks he’s such an idiot, he knows it. He’s just freaked him out. Everything is ruined.
“What do you want to be?” Dream’s voice comes out as a whisper, he sounds vulnerable— small.
Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline, or maybe it was pure stupidity, but George reckons there’s no going back now anyway. “Kiss me.” He says a little too confidently.
Dream’s taken aback by the abruptness of it all but he doesn’t resist. He grabs the brunet’s face and pulls him closer, lips connecting. George runs his hand through the others hair, this feels right.
George thinks that if he were to die in this moment at least he’d die happily.
This is the moment he’d been waiting forever for. The moment he’d lost countless hours of sleep over imagining every night.
They pull back, foreheads pressed together.
“Boyfriends.” George answers finally. “I want to be boyfriends.”