Work Text:
The cooking streams were a lot of fun.
Dream loved having everyone there together, and he spent his time happily drifting from being on and off camera. It was nice to let his shoulders down for a while, and he basked in the bubbling atmosphere his friends created.
His favorite of the two nights, though, was the one George was there for. After two weeks apart, Dream had started to miss him so much that he honestly didn't know what to do with himself.
They had made sure to call whenever they both had time, and George sent him photos from the places he visited, but that didn't stop Dream from missing him so much it hurt.
Phone calls used to be the only thing they had, but now that Dream knows what it's like to really have George, he can barely understand how he managed to go so long without it.
It felt like a weight got magically lifted off his chest when George finally came back home. A breath of fresh air.
Dream left the stream to pick him up from the airport, insisting on being the one to do it, and George didn't leave his side for the rest of the weekend.
The following night, during Sam’s pizza stream, George’s presence lit up the crowded kitchen. And Dream wasn’t shy of the fact that his eyes stayed on him the entire time. For the cameras and all.
⎯⎯⎯
It's a few days later when all their friends go home, leaving the house a lot quieter. Dream locks the door behind them, and when he turns around, he is immediately met with an armful of George.
The afternoon sun fills the hallway, bathing them both in warm light. Dream lets himself sink into George’s shoulder.
"That went well, don't you think?" He asks after a minute.
George hums, sending a buzz through his chest. “Yeah, I suppose.”
His tone catches Dream off guard just a little. I suppose? George doesn't talk like that.
Dream leans back to assess George’s expression.
“Did you not have fun?”
George frowns at him, clearly confused. “What? Yeah, I did."
"Well, why did you say I suppose like that?" Dream counters, his voice so soft it's almost apologetic.
And it seems to melt George’s defenses. He gives Dream a small smile, "I didn't mean it like that."
Dream's gaze flickers between George’s eyes, trying to read the truth in them. George is definitely upset about something, he has no doubts about that.
They stand like that for a few tense moments before George inevitably gives in.
"Okay! I'll tell you," he gets out in a rush, "just– stop staring at me like that."
On reflex, Dream mumbles. "'m not staring."
"You are." George bumps into him lightly to get his full attention.
Dream bumps him back, "Talk to me."
"Why–" George cuts himself off, his gaze flickering down to Dream's chest. It's obvious he's struggling to get his words out, and Dream can't help but grow more and more worried.
What could possibly be so bad–
"Why did you kiss Sam like that?"
Brown eyes flicker back up to his, boring into him with a vulnerability that Dream has never seen in them before. Like George is baring his soul to him right there in the hallway.
Dream's first reaction is pure bewilderment – can that really be what he’s upset about?
He blinks. "You mean on the stream?"
George only nods, his stare unfaltering, and Dream is still trying to wrap his head around the initial question. He remembers kissing Sam, but only vaguely. It didn't linger, not even in his memory.
Still, he scrambles for an answer.
"I–I don't know. No reason, I guess?" He says with a weak shrug, sounding more uncertain than he meant to.
He doesn't get a response, just more of George’s silent stare. Though he looks conflicted.
Dream bumps him again, giving his sides a light squeeze. "George. Hey, come on. What’s the matter? Are you mad at me?"
Is this what you're mad at me for? He almost adds, but he catches his tongue.
"No," George is quick to say, earning himself a deadpan look from Dream.
"Then why’d you even ask about the dumb kiss? Clearly, there’s something."
"Well there isn't, I was just wondering!" George cuts him off, and the slight chuckle in his voice doesn't sound very convincing. Dream feels completely lost.
They stare at each other.
“I’m not jealous,” George says defensively, though everything else says otherwise.
Dream smiles slightly. "I didn't say you were."
"But," he continues, "if it made you upset, then that's okay, too. You can tell me, you know?"
"I know that," George says, quieter now. "And I’m not upset, I just..." he trails off again, and Dream waits, patient as ever.
"It's just that you never do that with me," he finally says, meeting Dream’s eyes a little more confidently now.
Dream feels his whole demeanor soften.
"Because you don’t want me to, George," he reminds him gently. They've talked about this before. Sort of.
George looks visibly conflicted, grasping at invisible straws for what he's trying to say.
“Or... do you want me to?” Dream tries, surprising himself. But then again, everything about this conversation is new territory.
Dream's gaze gets pulled downward as George reaches out and touches the hem of his blue sweatshirt, then back up to pink lips when George opens his mouth.
“I just don’t like it when it’s on stream,” he admits quietly. “It feels so dumb then.”
His expression is hard to read, even for Dream. So he settles on an encouraging, “Okay,” hoping that George will keep talking. He does;
“Like… I don’t know, it takes away from how much it means to me.”
A soft smile makes its way to Dream’s lips. “You think it would mean less if I kissed you on stream than off?” He asks, eyebrows raised.
George’s cheeks burn a pretty pink, and he smiles, too. “I don’t know, okay.”
And just like that, the tension starts to ebb away, little by little.
"George," Dream laughs lovingly, and then he steps forward and gathers the boy in his arms. Big and strong and gentle all at once.
"This is so stupid," George mumbles, muffled in between them.
"Well, whose fault is that?"
George shoves him lightly, still smiling.
"Shut up, idiot."
Dream presses his lips firmly to the side of George’s neck, and then by his ear, and then his cheek – until George is laughing and squirming away.
So much for 'not jealous', Dream thinks fondly. (Not that his own track record is any better.)