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Dream doesn’t hear George approaching over the wind until hears his voice and looks up to see his shadow through the orange of the tent.
“Knock, knock” George announces from outside instead of actually knocking, “your Über Eats is here.”
Dream shuffles around to stand up and open the door but the zipper is already moving, door falling to the side and revealing George in his big orange jacket, partially crouched over with a bowl in one hand.
George extends the bowl to him, “They had some lentil soup, here.” Dream takes the slightly cooled but still warm bowl in his hands “I’m gonna go back for more water, I couldn’t carry it with the bowl.”
Dream’s hoarse, “Thank you” is swallowed up by the hiss of the zipper being pulled closed from outside.
Dream takes the bowl over to the bedside table. He shoves his bag of medicines and bottle of Tylenol aside and sets his phone up to film as he sits down on his bed, crouched over to be in frame. He wants to record everything, even if he feels awful. This is a once in a lifetime experience, he wants to remember it.
He talks to the camera and makes faces while he eats his soup. It’s warm; the food in Chile had been amazing, but it wasn’t the home-y comfort food he was craving while feeling sick. This was finally scratching that itch. He feels warm from the soup and even sitting alone in the tent he feels a little warm and soft from the feeling of being cared for.
A few minutes later he’s greeted by George again, stamping his boots off outside and unzipping the door, brandishing two water bottles. He hums to say ‘hello’ as George steps inside and sets them down.
Dream takes another bite of soup as George begins the process of shuffling out of all of his layers. At one point, Dream thinks to turn the camera around to film George instead.
“No,” George comments as soon as he notices the phone turned towards him.
“Take it off, George, take off the pants.” Dream’s smiling slightly behind the camera, even though it hurts his throat to talk.
“No-o, stop,” George complains and turns away.
Dream huffs and stops recording, laying his phone down on the table. “Fine. Your ass looks good in those pants.”
“Actually stop.” George draws it out like a complaint but it’s breathy in a way Dream knows means he’s a little bashful and doesn’t know how to respond. It’s funny, endearing. George turns back to him and whips his shed overshirt at him in further retaliation.
“Aren’t you going back to finish dinner with the guys?” Dream changes the subject.
George, finally down to his lowest layer, plonks himself down on the cot next to Dream. “No,” he responds simply. “Already ate. Rather hang out with you.”
Dream knows his face has gone soft by the way George smiles back at him when he meets his eyes. George takes the chance to lean in for a kiss. It’s tight lipped, Dream trying his best to breathe through his stuffy nose after a kiss from two days ago ending in George pulling back and announcing that ‘your mouth tastes rank’ from his chest infection, but George pushes firmly to make his intentions clear.
Dream smiles hard when he leans back. “Wanna watch something? I’m almost done with the soup.”
“Sure.” George looks around for a second. “I wanna– I wanna like, sit with you though,” he sounds a little crestfallen and Dream knows it’s because he wants to cuddle like they usually do, made a lot easier by a couch or bed designed for multiple people.
Dream scrapes the last spoonful of lentil soup from his bowl. “We could like– well I guess we probably shouldn’t move the beds together, huh? We can just use this one, I think we’ll fit, like really close. I have a few episodes of Better Call Saul downloaded on my phone, I know we watched them already but we could again.”
His voice is hoarse and mumbly as he rambles. “Stop talking, you sound awful,” George comments. “Where are your AirPods?”
Dream gestures lazily to his backpack under the foot of his bed, “Front pocket.” He finishes his last bite of soup as George fetches the earbuds and sets up Dream’s phone, propped up on the bedside table like he was filming before.
Dream sets aside the bowl and lays down on the cot, scooching all the way to the far side and beckoning George to join him.
“Don’t fall off the side,” George says as he lays down. Dream scoots closer and leans into him once he’s settled, spooning him tightly, wrapping his arms around George’s waist.
“I’m good,” Dream insists. The soft “Thank you” that follows is barely audible. He rubs his chin lightly on the top of George’s head and takes the single AirPod handed to him.
“Okay, good,” George responds. “You take your meds and stuff, too?” It feels a little nagging, but Dream knows that George cares for him and worries about him.
“Yeah, before soup.”
“Okay, good,” George says again, with more finality this time. He leans forward slightly in Dream’s arms to press play before relaxing back into him, settling his hand over Dream’s on his stomach, winding their fingers together. The cot mattress isn’t that comfortable, and Dream still feels awful and sick, but the warmth of a good meal and George against him after a long day makes him feel a lot, lot better.
The sun never goes down in Antarctica, but Dream falls asleep before the first episode is over.