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After constant reminders from Dream, George has been extra careful using the blender ever since Sapnap ended up needing stitches from it.
Dream will often just appear in the kitchen whenever anyone is about to use it, to "supervise". It's almost like he has a sixth sense.
Sapnap says it's annoying, that Dream is too overprotective. But George honestly doesn't mind.
He knows how Dream can get sometimes; that he's a worrier at heart.
So he is more than happy to let Dream hover behind him while he makes his smoothies. It's endearing, really.
George is not surprised when he hears footsteps on the stairs the moment he starts up the blender one afternoon.
He’s making a strawberry-banana smoothie, using a recipe that makes it taste more like a milkshake than anything healthy. A Dream Team staple at this point.
As the whir of the blender dies down, he feels a familiar press against his back, and a pair of arms wrap around his waist.
He is already smiling, "Hey Dream."
"Hi," Dream mumbles from where he has snuggled into the back of George’s neck.
"Are you here to check on me?" George asks, only half teasing.
Dream hums and tightens his hold on him slightly. "Maybe I am."
The softness of his voice so up close makes George’s cheeks warm before he can help it.
"Well I’m done using it now, anyway," he says, leaning back into Dream appeasingly. "No harm done."
All he gets in reply is another hum into his shoulder, and from how heavily Dream is leaning on him, George genuinely worries he is actually about to fall asleep.
“Hey Dream. Do you want some of this smoothie?” He pats Dream’s forearm to get his attention.
Dream lifts his head sleepily to get a look at what the drink in the blender looks like. (George knows he likes this one, it’s partially why he made it).
“Yes please,” Dream mumbles, already burying his face in George’s neck again.
George smiles and rubs Dream's arm. “Well, you’re gonna have to let me go for a second, then."
To this, Dream shakes his head, his curls brushing against George’s cheek.
George leans his head back in light exasperation, though that only proves to make more space for Dream to crowd in the crook of his neck.
"Dream," he sighs.
Spurred on by his annoyance, Dream squeezes George to his chest like he’s a teddy bear.
“Don’t get mad at me."
George smiles. “I’m not, Dream. You’re just, like, holding me captive."
“Yeah, I am,” Dream says. "You're never escaping."
“Guess you’ll never get your smoothie then...” George trails off, playing into Dream's stubbornness.
He gets a bit like a toddler when he's sleepy like this, all giggly and pliant. Secretly, George loves when Dream is in this mood.
He makes a point of pouring himself a glass of the pink smoothie, popping in the silicone straw he laid out earlier.
"Mm, this looks amazing."
Dream loosens one arm to try to grab the glass off the counter – but his hand doesn't get far before George catches his wrist.
“No, Dream–” He quips with a smile, making the blond giggle. “Stop being an idiot."
“If you stop being a baby loser, maybe," Dream counters.
George laughs. “Are you tired or something? What is up with you?”
He can feel Dream’s breath on his neck when he laughs, too. "Only a little."
Then he loosens his arms from George’s waist, allowing George to pull away and finally turn to face him.
One look at him proves George’s suspicions of Dream being sleepy. It shows in his smile and the dusting of pink on his freckled cheeks.
He can also tell that Dream is clearly fresh out of the shower, judging by his hair and the sweet watermelon scent that sticks to his skin.
Though George bites back the urge to tell him that he smells good, or that he looks nice like this.
That would be… weird. Totally weird.
“Go to bed, Dream,” he says instead. “You’ve been up for ages.”
Dream nudges him softly. “Give me some of your smoothie first."
“Alright, fine.” George twists to the side to grab his glass from the counter, bringing it back to the small space between them.
“Here,” he says. “Taste.”
He holds it toward Dream, expecting him to just take the glass from his hand and bring it to his lips.
(Like a normal person).
Instead (and perhaps predictably), Dream dips down and catches the straw in his mouth, leaving George to hold the glass for him.
He takes a long sip, staring directly into George’s eyes as he does so. Because of course he does.
George can’t help but laugh, lifting his free hand up to support the glass better. What an absolute idiot.
“You’re an actual idiot."
Dream’s smile turns into a laugh that forces him to let go of the straw, coughing a couple of times from the smoothie.
"‘S good,” he chokes out.
"Thanks,” George says smilingly. "I have to get a new straw now, though."
He's joking, mostly because admitting that he doesn't mind sharing a straw with Dream feels so indicative.
It's stupid, he knows it is – and Dream can see right through him.
Dream gives him a look, his hands flexing in their place on George's hips.
“Oh come on, George,” he says knowingly; familiarly.
George doesn't back down just yet. “I don’t want your gross spit in my mouth."
There is honey in Dream's voice when he laughs, and he drops his head onto George's shoulder.
"Yeah, I'm sure you don't, George. It's not like I’ve kissed–"
"–Okay! We get it," George cuts him off, flushing at the insinuation.
Dream just giggles, no doubt loving the scandalized reaction he got out of George. It takes a lot for him to blush at these things, but Dream always knows just what to say.
"I think it's past your bedtime," George says, wrapping his arms around the broad of Dream's back.
"Only if you come with me."
George could argue, or refuse, but he doesn't want to do either of those things. Instead, he rises up on his tippy toes and places a kiss on the bridge of Dream's nose.
"Fine, you big baby."
And the next thing he knows, Dream is taking his hand and leading him out of the kitchen.
George is about to turn back to grab his forgotten smoothie, only to find that Dream is somehow already carrying it.
All he can do is smile. "Idiot."