Chapter Text
"Oh," George says behind him, dropping his bag on the carpeted floor of the hotel room with a thud.
Dream rolls his eyes at the meaningless comment, busy having to get both of their suitcases in through the door by himself. It has been a long day.
"'Oh’ what?" He calls back.
When George doesn't answer right away, Dream huffs and looks up at him from the doorway. "George. What is it?"
His friend turns to him with his eyebrows raised. "There's only one bed here."
Oh.
Dream shortcircuits for a brief second before he is snapped back to reality by the door nearly hitting him in the face. Oh .
"Uhm, okay, well that's... okay, right?" He asks unsurely, moving to lift the last suitcase in from the hallway.
"We can just uh, make a little barrier between us or something?"
He sets the case down and finally turns to look at George fully, letting the door fall shut with a click.
Only now does he get a chance to take in the layout of the room, and surely enough, against the wall to his right is one bed. A big one, but one nonetheless.
George has already thrown himself onto it, the springy mattress still bouncing from the impact. Dream smiles tiredly and walks over to him.
They landed in L.A. a little over two hours ago and it’s safe to say they are both exhausted from the journey. Delays, long queues, and… yeah, you get the point.
Dream is more than ready to get some rest.
They can't go to sleep without figuring this out first, though.
"George," Dream says, standing over him by the bedside.
George peeks out from the pillows. "What?"
He sounds about as half asleep as he looks, and Dream has to bite back another fond smile.
"Do you want me to go back down to the reception and ask for another room?” He offers quietly. “Then you can have this one.”
God, he really is a simp isn’t he.
A sleepy frown contorts soft features. "Why? Can't we jus' share?" George asks with what sounds like genuine confusion.
Dream huffs and gives him a gentle poke in the arm. "That's what I'm asking you, idiot. Don’t fall asleep on me."
George yawns widely and rolls over onto his back.
"Well, I don't mind sharing," he blinks up at Dream blearily. "Unless you do."
Dream's heart squeezes in his chest.
"No, I don't mind either," he's quick to say, reaching for George's hand splayed out on the mattress.
I don't mind at all.
George curls his fingers around Dream's delicately, his eyes starting to droop.
"Hey, let's go change our clothes, George." Dream urges, pulling on his hand lightly.
Surprisingly, no other encouragement is needed as George tightens his grip on his hand and lets Dream pull him to his feet.
"Hah," George says with a giggle, leaning into his side sleepily, "like th' song."
Dream just chuckles and places a hand on George’s lower back, leading him over to their suitcases.
⎯⎯⎯
Thankfully, the bed has two covers. Which – in theory – means they can have one each without having to share.
George seems to have other ideas though, as the first thing he does when Dream lays down beside him is to try to crawl under Dream's duvet with him.
Dream's first instinct is to pretend he has a problem with it.
"George– you have your own blanket, fuck off," he complains, pushing at warm shoulders without any real strength.
"No," George says matter-of-factly, pressing closer.
Dream laughs; he can't help it. "What do you mean no? you're on my side."
George laughs, too, and it reverberates in Dream's chest where they are pressed together. It’s a feeling he never wants to end.
Then, just to show that he can, Dream shoves George all the way over to the other side of the bed – only for George to roll right back onto him as soon as Dream's hands leave his waist.
And the thing is – it's late, and Dream is tired, and the truth is that he wants to savor any moment he gets to have George close like this.
So he doesn't fight it when George shuffles around obnoxiously to get comfy on top of him, pressing his cheek to Dream's chest right above his heart.
And he doesn't stop himself from snaking his arms around George’s waist, letting his hands settle on the warm skin under George's shirt.
"You're an idiot, you know that?" He mumbles into the dark, smoothing his palm over George’s back.
And just when he thinks the boy might have already fallen asleep, he feels the gentle press of soft lips on the side of his throat.
Dream sleeps like a baby that night.