Work Text:
The first time after starting his life all over again that their friends come to visit, Dream quickly realizes that they have one issue: there aren’t enough beds for everybody to stay over.
When they’d been first planning the construction of the house well over a year ago, long before the visa would ever come to fruition or was even a concrete thing that was happening, Dream remembers that his one priority was to make it a place to welcome and house guests. For both George and Sapnap, they each had just wanted enough of their own space. A bedroom, an office for content creation, and an ensuite bathroom so they never had to stray too far from their rooms.
Dream, on the other hand, always had a vision in mind of what their home would be like now that they had the means. He recalls every time he sat alone, locked in his office, watching as North Carolina was the hub for all of his friends to meet up. He would sit in Discord calls with George as they screenshared all of the meetup streams between Karl, Sapnap, Quackity, Punz, and even Foolish in a place that neither of them could go quite yet in their perpetual state of waiting. Remembers sitting across from Sapnap in the early mornings after he would return from Karl's as he rambled on about how much fun it had been staying with him, and explaining how every night had felt like a sleepover since Karl had the space for them all to stay.
He even remembers when Sapnap had gone to visit George, and despite the way George complained about it and his apartment not being big enough for two people for extended periods of time, longing to be spending an undefined amount of time together in a cramped space. The point was this: he had spent forever waiting to be with his friends, and longing to be the one who had friends coming to visit and stay with him. Even if the longing was over joyful explanation or annoyed complaining, it was something he wanted and had waited to have for years at this point. Building a house meant he could have it in a better way than he could have ever imagined.
He remembers the few weeks preceding George’s move when he’d been alone, moving into the new house once it was finally ready. Remembers wandering the empty, lifeless halls and imagining the way shouting and laughter would soon fill them. As he listened to the sound of his footsteps and Patches’ faint meows echo through all the empty rooms, he longed in a way that was filled with anticipation rather than hopelessness for the first time in a long time.
And now, weeks after the whirlwind that had been George’s arrival and the face reveal, he was finally getting that. Because Karl and Foolish had come down to visit from North Carolina around Halloween, and he had offered to let them stay at the house. Though, what he hadn’t considered was the fact that they hadn’t exactly furnished any of the guest rooms yet beyond all the extra PCs they had purchased to allow their friends to stream from their house. What surprised him most about this ordeal, though, was George’s suggestion which had been brought up just moments before Karl and Foolish were due to arrive from the airport with Sapnap.
They had been sitting in their living room, Dream worrying aloud about how the sleeping arrangements would go and picking the skin from his nail when George interrupted him.
“Don’t be silly. They can just use my bed and I’ll sleep with you or something.” He’d even reached over and gently slapped Dream’s hand to stop him from picking at his nail, a habit he had gotten into from the first time he had seen Dream doing it in person and frowned wordlessly at the action.
And, before Dream could even begin to question him, Karl had loudly barged into the room and announced his presence, deferring the conversation for another time.
And that’s how they had gotten here, to Dream awkwardly standing in the doorway of his ensuite bathroom, with his teeth freshly brushed and his face washed, unable to do anything but watch George where he was already comfortably lying on his side in Dream’s bed, scrolling through something on his phone.
At George’s prompting, Foolish and Sapnap had moved George’s mattress onto the empty bed frame in the guest room. Even if it wasn’t ideal that Karl and Foolish were still having to share, it was better than them having to sleep on the couch or the floor. Dream was sure they wouldn’t get much sleep, anyways. If he listened hard enough, he could hear laughing and the occasional shout from where he knew Karl, Sapnap, and Foolish were still awake and hanging out down the hall.
Soon after they had moved the mattress, George had announced he was ready for bed, and stared at Dream in a pointed way that he knew meant he wanted him to follow. Dream was helpless but to oblige only moments later.
Now, after completing his nighttime routine once George had wandered into his room and settled in after completing his own, Dream wasn’t sure how he was going to handle sharing a bed with George.
It seemed he wouldn’t have to be stuck in his head for too long, though, because before his thought can begin to spiral, George is looking up at him and locking his phone. Even in the dim light cast across his face from what seeps into the room from the bathroom, Dream can tell that George is frowning at him.
“What are you doing?” He asks, eyebrows raised as he pushes his hair from his face. “Go change and come to bed.”
And Dream can only nod and listen, stumbling to his closet to strip down to his boxers and undershirt. He can feel the way George’s eyes are on him as he strips, and knows he has to be bright red by the time he turns back around to face him. George is still staring shamelessly as he walks back to the bed, leaning over to pull the covers back on his side and rearrange his pillows to waste time.
“Dream,” George mumbles, amusement clear in his tone. “You can take off your shirt, I don’t mind. I know you sleep shirtless.”
George is looking at him expectantly now, eyes tracing over Dream’s plain white t-shirt. He feels a little bare already in front of George, used to wearing hoodies and long sleeves around him. Hesitantly, he begins to pull the hem of his shirt over his head. When he emerges and throws it to the side, he sees that George is trailing his eyes down his bare chest and stomach. Not giving him long to stare, Dream slips under the covers and pulls them up to his chin, laying stiffly on his back and staring up at the ceiling with his eyes wide and knowing sleep is nowhere near.
He hears George moving, and knows from the shift of the mattress that he's turned to look at Dream. Next, he’s poking Dream’s bare arm to get his attention.
“Dream.”
Dream turns onto his side, and quickly notices how close George has shifted to him. “George.”
“I’m cold, Dream.” As he says it, Dream notices that he’s also shirtless and their position feels even more vulnerable with this knowledge. Still, he’s helpless but to trail his eyes over the faint traces of dark hair on the part of his chest that’s barely visible above where the comforter rests.
“Okay?” He pulls the comforter tighter around himself, looking back into George’s eyes.
“Make me warm, Dream.” George complains, scooting closer to Dream.
Before Dream can respond, George is pressing their chests together and pushing Dream onto his back. When he’s satisfied with Dream’s positioning, he throws his leg over Dream’s and digs his face into his neck.
When he speaks, Dream can feel his lips brushing the skin of his neck and his breath heating his skin. “Mm, better. Gonna be warm now ‘cause you’re always so warm.”
Dream can only lay still, staring at the ceiling again. He’s hyperaware of the way he can feel all of their bare skin pressed together. George’s stomach is pressed to his own, and he can feel the way it gently expands alongside every breath he takes into his neck. In a way that makes him blush, he can feel George’s cold, hardened nipples pressed into his ribcage. As if this is the most normal position in the world and not like this is the closest they’ve ever been, George begins speaking.
“Do you have an alarm set for tomorrow?” George’s lips are still moving against his skin as he speaks, and it’s hard to focus on his own response for Dream.
“Um, yeah. I think I do.” He breathes out in response, trying to keep his breathing steady and relax his body.
“Good. Now let’s sleep.”
With that, George settles further into him. Dream shuts his own eyes and soaks in the way George has begun rubbing faint circles into the skin of his hip.
Eventually, he drifts to sleep with George in his arms. For now, he decides not to overthink it.
*
When Karl and Foolish leave, he expects George to move back to his own room. He waits the night that they leave for George to ask for his help moving the mattress back to his own bedroom, except it never happens. Instead, George wordlessly follows Dream into his own room, and settles in beside him in the same way he had for the past few nights that Karl and Foolish were still there. Neither of them bring it up; instead, George resumes his position pressed chest to chest with Dream, and they continue on sleeping like that.
It continues like this for weeks, an unspoken agreement between them about sharing a bed. To Dream, the silence speaks volumes.
Because amidst all this, there are other small, subtle changes, too.
One small adjustment to their newly established routine is Dream being unsure of the last time George even entered his own room except to trail through it to get to his office to get work done. Instead, Dream had begun to see George’s belongings enter his own room.
It was hard to ignore the way the second nightstand in his room had filled with some small trinkets of George’s, as well as things like his phone charger and laptop. There was always a half full water bottle on it, too, which Dream often found himself refilling alongside his own before bed without a second thought as George would grin at him from across the room. Dream doesn't think twice when one day, he's adding more silk pillowcases to his Amazon cart after George had commented on liking Dream's after his own pillows had somehow migrated to Dream's bed.
Their dirty laundry began to pile up together in Dream’s hamper, and he soon found himself not bothering to separate their laundry like he would have before. Now, he just takes it all to his room and has turned the empty side of his closet into George’s. In the mornings, he always feels warm at the way he can see George’s clothes filling space alongside his own.
His ensuite bathroom even begins filling with George’s belongings, too. As time goes on, he finds their toothbrushes resting beside each other in the cup on the sink, and the skincare products on the countertop doubling. He notices the way that the sink will be covered in small hairs that show signs of George shaving and failing to clean up after, and only grumbles a little to himself as he wipes the countertop every single time. He begins noticing how his shampoo, conditioner and body wash begin disappearing more quickly, especially after each time George showers. He won’t complain, though; George’s hair is curlier as a result, and he thinks he becomes obsessed with the way they smell the same as he breathes George in every night in their shared bed.
It’s a comfortable routine. It’s settling in together in ways closer to each other than Dream could have ever imagined when they were still an ocean apart, and when he had been more unsure of himself in all ways pertaining to his sexuality and to George.
One downfall of this routine, though, is the way it makes his feelings for George even more undeniable than they ever had been before.
From an ocean apart, it was easy to let the feelings exist freely. There was a certain comfortability in the distance and in the stagnancy. It was easy to let things go a little too far much too late into Orlando nights and early into London mornings, and to let his tongue become a little looser with the delirium that came alongside sleepless nights. To let compliments slip freely, and to let his heart fill with warmth at how soft George was to him in private.
To him, the distance made all the difference in allowing him to indulge in exploring his feelings for George—to explore his feelings for men. Here, it was so much more terrifying.
Looking George in the eyes and calling him beautiful proved to be a lot more difficult than it ever was to whisper into his microphone when he still had the security of his facelessness. George is scary like this, in their shared bedroom and life.
Yet, he’s unchanging. He’s as soft as he’s ever been with Dream in these private moments, and it leaves Dream unsure of if he’s always looked too much into this or if he’d been right to think that they had always jointly been veering into feelings of more.
It all comes to a head in the face of a fan question, of all things.
The fans had remembered the way George’s mattress had been on the floor during his first tour of the house when he moved in, though they were clueless to the fact that the mattress had since been moved to the guest room and that George was sleeping in Dream’s bed. Because of this, they kept asking about if he had assembled his bed frame yet. And George, never one to divulge too many personal details to their audience, had begun spinning a narrative that Dream was helpless but to play along to.
Because listening to George tell the fans that he needed to assemble his bed frame hurt just a little when Dream knew what assembling the bed frame would mean. So he knew it was a dirty move, but he emphasized that he needed his mattress back, and the detail had made the story all the more confusing to the public. But Dream knew that George knew what he meant; that he was implying that there needed to be an end to their arrangement. And Dream could pick up on the way it hurt George, even if the tells were small. Dream knew him, after all, and even in the face of his strongest walls was always able to see the smallest of cracks.
He knows he was right in detecting something was off when their routine is disrupted later that night. He finishes his own bedtime routine, and George is nowhere to be found. He longs for the way they had begun brushing their teeth together to end the night, bumping elbows and smiling goofily at one another through the foam in their mouths. Tonight, he’s left with nothing but his own reflection as he spits his toothpaste and waits for the sound of socked feet padding into the room that knows aren’t likely to come.
So, he goes in search of George. And though he isn’t surprised at where he finds him, it does still hurt a little.
He finds George in his own bedroom for the first time in who knows how long. The room is a lot emptier than it was the last time he had seen it. The nightstand is empty, and the trinkets that had littered the surfaces in the past were gone. Dream knows it’s because they had made their way into his own room; into their room.
In the middle of the room, George is sat with a large open box beside him. His face is scrunched in frustration as he stares into a booklet of instructions, and on the floor around him lies hardware and pieces of wood in an unorganized disarray.
“George,” Dream speaks, causing George to jump slightly as he looks up at Dream. “What are you doing?”
George only ignores him, and goes back to reading the instructions in front of him.
Dream begins trailing his way into the room, stepping haphazardly over pieces of what he knows are the bed frame George seems to be trying to assemble.
“Go away, Dream. I’m busy.” Dream can tell he’s trying to hide the hurt in his voice, but it’s useless with how easily Dream can read him. It remains evident, especially in the way his face is flushed and he won’t look at Dream.
“George,” Dream begins, and he hates the way his own voice shakes. “I can help you. If you want.”
At the words, George looks up at him fiercely. Dream hates the look on his face, and how clearly he’s trying to close himself off.
“You would want to help.” He mutters under his breath, looking down at his hands to avoid eye contact.
“What does that mean?”
At the words, George is rising to his feet and glaring. “It means you want your bed back, so I’m helping you out.”
It leaves Dream at a loss for words, the way the hurt is so clear in George’s voice.
He takes a shaky breath in. “George.”
“I’ve got it, Dream.” And he’s leaning over to grab pieces of the bed frame, trying to appear busy as he keeps avoiding eye contact. “You can go to bed.”
“I don’t want to go to bed,” Dream mumbles. “I don’t know if I can sleep without you.”
And as much as Dream is cursing his lack of filter, it’s these words that finally get George to face him again, studying him. He must find something he likes, because he’s softening and breathing out a deep sigh.
“I don’t want to build this.” And the words aren’t much, but Dream knows that coming from George, they carry a lot.
“Then don’t build it.”
A smile is slowly creeping onto George’s face, and he takes a small step toward Dream.
“I don’t like this room,” George begins. “It’s cold. And it’s empty.”
And Dream can’t help but smile and step even closer to George, letting his hands hesitantly hover over George’s waist. “I’ve heard there’s a warm room that’s full of stuff down the hall. Your stuff and my stuff.”
George rolls his eyes, but places his hands over Dream, pushing Dream’s hands to grasp his waist as he steps in so they’re only inches apart. “Do you want me to sleep in your bed, Dream?”
“Yeah,” Dream breathes out. “I really do. For, like, forever.”And instead of responding, George is leaning up and pressing his lips against Dream’s.
It’s isn’t a deep kiss; instead, it’s gentle, and holds nothing but promises of their future in it. As they pull away, Dream thinks that George’s wide grin could light up an entire room.
Wordlessly, they trail to Dream’s bedroom, leaving the mess of the bed frame pieces for another day. Dream sits on the countertop in the bathroom and watches George go through his nighttime routine, with the new addition of ending it with stepping between Dream’s legs and pulling him into a tight embrace. He pulls him down into a chaste kiss before he steps away, lacing their hands together and tugging him to bed.
As they finally lay pressed together, the same as they had every other night, Dream can’t help but speak.
“George,” he whispers into the darkness. “this is our bed. Our room. Just so you know, or whatever.”
Instead of responding, George presses a kiss into Dream’s shoulder and squeezes his bare hip. Dream knows it’s his way of saying I know.
As he drifts to sleep, he ignores the way his own eyes feel wet at how overwhelming getting reassurance finally feels. What keeps the tears at bay is the way he can feel George’s heartbeat pressed against his own, soothing him into a peaceful sleep.