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When Dream mentioned putting the mask back on, George had assumed he was making some sort of joke.
Sapnap had just joined the pair in the living room and they were all sitting on the couch, catching each other up on what was going on in their individual lives. Sapnap, who was at the furthest end of their L-shaped couch, was talking about the latest video he had filmed for NRG. As George listened, sitting right at the angled portion of the couch, he let his eyes drift to the taller man lounging in front of him.
Sometimes, when George woke up, he’d expect himself to be back in his flat in London, these last months being nothing but a crazy fever dream. But when he looked at Dream, he felt, well, like he was quite the opposite. George studied the blonde, observing how he was leaning back against the arm of the couch, his broad shoulders relaxing as he listened intently to what Sapnap was saying. As George looked closer, he noticed the way the Dream was routinely worrying his lip between his teeth; a nervous tic that the brunette had taken notice of since he’s been able to see Dream in person.
When Sapnap’s story reached its end, George playfully tapped Dream’s calf with the point of his socked foot, meeting his eyes in a silent way of asking, what’s going on? Dream shook his head with a warm smile before clearing his throat and opening his mouth to speak.
“So, recently, I’ve..well, not really recently ,” He stutters, “but like—”
Before he can finish his thought, he backtracks, divulging into a story about someone who had been spamming his DM’s with horrible shit. Most of it was about the way he looked which, unfortunately, wasn’t too uncommon.
“But,” Dream began, “I’ve been thinking more and more about what the person was saying. I mean, we all know that my face reveal wasn’t exactly ideal, y’know?”
Both Sapnap and George shuddered at the memory: Dream had forced a smile through most of it, but there’s only so much hate one person can take before it really gets to them. One night, George walked into the kitchen in a search for water, only to find the blonde sitting at the island with his head in his hands. He quickly ducked back into the hallway before he was caught, but just the brief sight of his best friend so defeated was enough to keep him up all night. Dream acted like everything was normal the next day, but George couldn’t get the sight out of his mind. He hated that Dream couldn’t fully enjoy the first times they were all together because he was so caught up in his own mind.
Dream continued. “So, that’s why I’ve kind of been considering…” He paused, looking away before once again taking back his words, saying, “No, nevermind, it’s stupid.”
George would have none of this. He could see how desperately the blonde wanted to say something and he wanted to make sure Dream knew that he and Sapnap would always support him
“Come on, Dream,” George urged, “It’s not stupid, just say it.”
Dream shook his hands out before taking a deep breath. “I want to hide my face again.”
Sapnap cracked first, laughter quickly ringing out. George wasn’t far behind, trying desperately to restrain his giggle behind his lips. Dream looked at the pair, exasperated, but soon began laughing along.
“I thought you said it wasn’t stupid!” He exclaimed through his own bright laughter
“Dude,” Sapnap managed through his chuckle, “That was before you said you wanted to put that fucking mask back on.”
George was almost doubled over with laughter at this point, barely still seated on the couch. “Dream, everyone already knows what you look like? What’s the point in wearing the stupid mask?”
Dream was laughing just as hard as the other two, trying to defend his logic through wheezes.
Soon, their laughter began to die down and a comfortable silence overtook the room
Sapnap yawned before standing up and stretching. “Alright, idiots, I’m checking out.” He began walking up the stairs towards his room, shouting down into the living room, “You guys should go to bed soon, our sleep schedules are fucked enough as it is.”
Dream, still sat on the couch, shouted, “Goodnight, Nick!”, soon followed by George yelling, “‘Night, Sapnap!”
Before disappearing down the hall, the shorter man turned around. “George, convince Dream that he’s just being stupid!”
Dream scoffed, flipping him off. “Fuck off, Nick.”
“Love you too, babe!” Sapnap made a heart with his hands before continuing to walk to his room. Soon, the sound of his door shutting rang through the house, leaving the pair on the couch in another silence.
George wasn’t in the mood to be alone—he had worked in his office until it was dark outside—so he remained, comfortable in his spot on the couch. It seemed that Dream was feeling the same way, because he pulled his phone out of his back pocket and settled deeper into the arm of the settee, beginning to tap at the screen. Of course, George probably should have done the same; He had so many unanswered emails that were probably growing cobwebs in his inbox. Instead, he decided to do one of his favorite things: Annoy Dream.
He leaned back, moving his arms behind him to hold his weight, and threw his legs forward and on top of the blonde’s. Dream jumped, clearly surprised by the action. He looked over at the brunette’s smug face and set his phone down on the arm of the couch, sighing.
Suddenly, he grabbed George’s ankles and pulled.
George shrieked as his arms failed to support him and toppled down. He was now on his back as Dream choked from his own laughter. The brunette quickly sat up and locked eyes with the blonde, doing the best death stare he could muster.
“Dream,” George deadpanned.
“George,” Dream mimicked through his laughter.
“Why did you do that?”
“Why did you decide to put your disgusting feet on me?”
“My feet are not disgusting,” George said, scandalized.
Dream quietly chuckled “Ok, whatever you say.”
George returned to his previous position of lying down and shifted his legs on Dream’s lap in an attempt to get comfortable. As he settled back in, he felt Dream’s hand land on his ankle, his thumb hesitantly rubbing circles into the bone. He relaxed into the feeling, sighing, and pushing his foot towards the blonde’s touch.
With his unoccupied hand, Dream picked up his phone again and opened up Twitter. Ever the nosy person he was, George sat up slightly from his resting position across the couch. Despite barely being able to see the screen, he immediately recognized the profile picture of Dream’s fanart account and the familiar… content he liked and retweeted.
George quietly snickered. “Are you really looking at DNF fanart right now?”
Dream shrugged and playfully flicked George’s ankle. “I dunno,” He joked, “You’ll have to check tomorrow.”
Shaking his head, George laid back once again, relaxing into the cotton fabric of the couch’s cushions. Properly comfortable now, he folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes. Dream continued the soothing circles around his ankle, softly chuckling whenever he passed a particularly funny piece of fanart.
George let his brain ponder the events of the day. He was brought back to what Dream had said earlier about wanting to cover his face again. He almost laughed again, the idea of seeing that little black smile in person too absurd to even picture—not that the brunette could picture anything in his mind in the first place. He pushed the thought out of his head; It was far too unrealistic to take back what was already on the internet, and he was sure Dream knew that better than anyone else. But that didn’t matter to him right now: The only thing on his mind was the heaviness of his body and the sudden urge to sleep forever. Slowly, he was lured into dreamland by the quiet hum of the overhead fan and a rough thumb continuing its dance across his ankle.
⸺⸺⸺
Days later, George was sitting in the kitchen—well, on the kitchen counter—watching Dream cook. He was sautéing some chicken and vegetables in a large skillet, adding spices and herbs that George couldn’t remember the name of. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know what the other was making: All George knew was that it smelled heavenly and that Dream was refusing to give him any.
“Dream,” the man complained, dragging out the vowels. “Please, I just wanna try a bite.”
The blonde huffed and turned away from the stove, pointing the wooden spatula he had been using at the brunette. “If you ask again, I’m kicking you out of the kitchen.”
“You can’t kick me out of the kitchen,” George said, rolling his eyes. “It’s my kitchen, too.”
“Ok, well, you’re like, contaminating the food.”
“How am I contaminating the food?” George questioned, laughing at the stupidity of the accusation.
“Your complaining is going to make the food go bad,” Dream stated, matter-of-factly.
Before George could tell Dream how dumb he sounded, the younger’s phone started buzzing from where it was set on the counter. He quickly looked at the contact name before turning back to the man sitting on the counter.
“Ah, shit, George, I really need to take this call. Could you just stir this around for a bit while I’m gone?” Dream requested, taking the dripping spatula out of the pan and holding it out.
George took the utensil from the other, hopping off the counter before quietly musing. “You’re getting glizz all over the floor.”
Dream scoffed. “You’re such an idiot.”
George stuck his tongue out at the blonde and made his way to the stovetop, beginning to move the meat and vegetables around in the pan. Dream thanked him before answering his phone, greeting the person on the other end, and exiting the kitchen.
The blonde padded into the hallway adjacent to the room and began talking. After a few moments of stirring in silence, George became restless, desperately needing to know what the two could be talking about. Straining his ears, he was barely able to make out the tail end of their conversation. At first, all he could hear was the faint murmur of the other person on the phone, but it was quickly followed by the sound of Dream’s voice.
“Yeah, yeah…” He responds, trailing off a bit. “So I’ll need it about three weeks before the convention, is that possible? Ok, perfect! Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”
After a few moments, George heard a quiet beep emitting from the phone’s speakers as the blonde entered back into the kitchen and stood by his side. The older man was curious as to what this mysterious “it” was that Dream needed, but as he opened his mouth to speak, the younger man beat him to it.
“Sorry, George,” Dream apologizes, taking the spatula from his hand and swapping spots with the brunette to stand in front of the stove. “You didn’t burn down the kitchen in the two minutes I was gone, did you?”
The shorter scoffs and crosses his arms. “Do you really doubt my ability to cook that much?”
“Well,” Dream drawls. “You did forget to put water in your mac’ and cheese once.”
“That was an anomaly! As you can see,” George argues, gesturing to the skillet on the stove top. “I am perfectly capable of cooking.”
The blonde fondly smiles and shakes his head, turning the burner off and removing the skillet from the grate. With his unoccupied hand, he opened the drawer below the stove and pulled a silicone trivet out, setting it on the countertop before placing the pan on top of it. Walking to a cabinet, Dream grabbed three plates and glasses and set them on the counter at the bar. The taller stepped back, admiring his work and nodding to himself slowly.
George, still inquisitive about whatever Dream’s earlier phone conversation was about, took the momentary silence as a chance to finally have his questions answered.
“Who was it that called you earlier?”
Dream turned around to face George, one eyebrow quirked up and lips split in an amused grin.
“Were you spying on me?!” he questioned in faux offense.
The older man stuttered out an answer. “No! Well, I mean, not really , but…” He trailed off, not knowing how to respond without sounding guilty.
Dream chuckled, laughing at the hesitance. “I’m guessing you want to know what we were talking about?”
George eagerly nodded.
The blonde took a deep breath. “So, this guy runs a company that makes professional props, and I asked if he would make me something,” he explained.
“Something?” the brunette questioned.
“Something. That’s all you get to know,” Dream responded, smirking.
“Dream,” George whined. “Just tell me.”
“Nope,” the taller sang, popping the “p”. “You’ll find out soon anyways. Now, go get Sapnap before the food gets cold.”
George groaned loudly before walking upstairs and to Sapnap’s room.
When the two came back downstairs and into the kitchen, the three men prepared their plates independently and sat down at the island. After a delicious dinner—and dessert, thanks to the pint of cherry ice cream Dream had bought last time he went to the store—Sapnap returned upstairs to finish recording with Karl, leaving the other two alone once again.
While Dream cleared the kitchen after their meal, George resumed his earlier position on the counter top, swinging his feet playfully at the blonde each time he walked by. Still frustrated by the other’s determination to not tell him what he was getting from that prop company, he tried to think of a way to get him to crack.
Suddenly, the brunette was struck with an idea. He waited until Dream had his back facing towards him completely before quietly hopping from the counter. The taller man was completely immersed in putting the dishes back in their proper cabinets, absentmindedly humming a snippet from a song he had been working on. George quietly shuffled to stand behind the blonde, waiting for the perfect time to put his plan into action.
Soon, all of the dishes were in their proper place and Dream closed the cabinet. Before the blonde could turn around, however, the shorter man threw his arms around Dream’s neck and jumped .
“GEORGE!” the taller shrieked in surprise, rushing to hook his hands under the brunette’s thighs to support his weight.
“Tell me what the prop company is making you!” George demanded, clinging on to Dream harder and digging his chin into his shoulder.
Dream choked out a laugh. “What?! Is that what all this is about?!”
“Yes!” George managed through giggles. “Now tell me!”
“You little shit! Y’know what, fuck this—” The blonde gripped his thighs tighter and began walking out of the kitchen.
The man on his back yelped in surprise, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. Dream walked them into the living room and stood in front of the couch for a few seconds, not moving. Confused, George was about to ask what he was doing, when Dream swiftly bent down, sending the shorter man flying over him and into the cushions. He landed on the couch with an oomf , quickly followed by the blonde crashing down on top of him, caging him in with broad arms.
“Dream!” George shouted. “Get the hell off of me!”
“No! You started it!” The taller argued through laughter.
The brunette began thrashing around, beating his hands against a toned chest. His actions were quickly subdued as the blonde grabbed both his wrists with one hand, pinning them down by his side.
A silence fell over the boys, allowing both to catch their breath and—in George’s case, at least—study the man above him. He took in Dream’s eyes and the way that the blue-green of his irises were concealed by dark pupils. His lips were chapped, barely parted as short breaths passed through them. His dirty blonde hair was ruffled and disheveled from their scuffle. He looked good— handsome , even.
Dream noticed the man below him staring and began smiling.
“What?” he questioned through a quiet chuckle. “Is there something on my face?”
“Yes,” the brunette quipped, rolling his eyes. “Your face looks stupid.”
At that, the blonde loosened his grip on the other’s wrists, moving from his position above him to sit back against the headboard. Dream’s smile had faded completely, lips drawn shut and eyebrows knitted together. Confused by his sudden change in mood, George also sat up, facing Dream and criss-crossing his legs.
“George,” the taller man slowly began. “Do you think I should hide my face again?”
Worried he had made the blonde feel bad, he quickly clarified what he had meant. “Oh shit, Dream. I really didn’t mean it that way—”
The blonde cut him off. “No, I know you didn’t. It’s just, I’m asking: Should I wear the mask again?”
George sighed. “Dream, you already know what I’m going to say.”
“I know. I’m just, I dunno,” he began trailing off. “Do you really wanna know what the prop company is making me?”
George scoffed. “Obviously, idiot.”
Dream chuckled under his breath. “Ok, basically, they’re making me a mask that I would be able to wear at all times,” he began explaining. “Like, I could wear it while driving, eating, y’know, stuff I do every day.”
Puzzled, George asked, “So what? You’re basically going to be faceless again?”
“Yeah,” Dream confirmed, nodding.
“I’m still confused, why are you even hiding your face again?” the brunette inquired. “I mean, it’s all over the internet.”
“I know, that’s the issue,” the blonde responded. “I’m just tired of people being so concerned with how I look. I’ve made content for years without showing my face, why is it any different now?” He continued rambling and George just sat still and listened, nodding his head occasionally. He could tell that Dream had been holding this in for a while, and he had nothing but time to listen.
After a minute or two, Dream suddenly stopped and took a deep breath and put his head in his hands. He exhaled shakily as his shoulders tensed around his collar. The sight made George feel sick; he couldn’t bear to see Dream so distressed. Scooting closer to the blonde, he gently took his wrists into his hands, pulling them away from his face. When the younger man looked up at George, he felt tears prick at his eyes. The man in front of him looked nothing like the one who was laughing above him just five minutes ago. His beautiful eyes were red and bloodshot and his—in the brunette’s opinion—annoyingly clear skin was pale and blotchy. He looked so small, and George couldn’t handle seeing him like this for much longer.
Warily, the brunette trailed his hands up from Dream’s wrists and towards his face before settling them under his stubbled jaw, cradling his face. The taller man instantly melted into the touch, letting his eyes close with a wobbly sigh. George began rubbing small circles into his cheeks and under his eyes with his thumb, hushing him and soothing him quietly. Despite this, Dream’s brows were still drawn tightly together, which the older man would have absolutely none of. Thinking quickly with both of his hands occupied, the brunette leaned closer to the man in front of him and delicately pressed his lips to the crease between his eyebrows.
Immediately, George pulled away, dropping his hands from Dream’s face. The blonde’s eyes flew open, meeting the brunette’s own wide-eyed stare. Too embarrassed to even look at the younger man, George quickly diverted his eyes to his lap and pressed his fists into his eyes.
“Dream, I—” the smaller man stuttered out an apology. “I don’t know why I did that, I’m so sorry.”
After a long beat of silence, George slowly uncovered his eyes and looked up at the blonde. He was expecting to see a look of disgust or objection, but instead was met with the flushed face of his best friend. Dream’s lips were parted, ivory canines flashing in a small, soft smile. His cheeks were dusted with pink hyacinth blooms and he was looking at the brunette like he had hung the moon and stars.
George felt completely frozen in place, dazed and lost in the other’s eyes. He thought—no, he was certain —that Dream would be upset with him, but he felt nothing but loved when he looked at the man in front of him. The older man forced himself to look away when tears began pooling in his eyes, choking out a chuckle to disguise his emotions. It wasn’t long before Dream’s bright laughter rang out to join George’s and soon the sound of them was dancing around the house and clouding their senses.
Eventually, both men calmed down, looking back at each other with warm smiles. Growing tired of their distance, the blonde moved closer to the brunette, wrapping an arm around him. With a content sigh, the smaller man tucked himself into the taller man’s toned chest and arms. Dream shifted his arm from behind George, reaching up to run his finger through dark chocolate locks.
Wrapped in a warm embrace, the older man found it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He craned his neck upwards to look at the younger, only to find a pair of hazel eyes already looking down at him.
“Hi,” the blonde greeted, fondness dripping from his voice.
George smiled. “Hello, idiot.”
“How am I an idiot?” Dream asked with a scoff.
The brunette shrugged. “I dunno,” he said with a yawn, shifting his legs so that he could fully lay against the other. “You just are.”
Dream removed his fingers from George’s hair, resting his hand on the brunette’s thigh and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head.
“I love you,” the blonde breathed, lips still pressed to his scalp.
George took in a sharp breath, completely stilling at the confession. He sat up, shifting to sit on the other’s broad thighs. Slowly, he brought his hands up to the blonde’s stubbled jaw, cupping it with soft hands while moving closer to the man in front of him. Gently, he pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Dream’s mouth. George pulled away, bringing alabaster hands down from Dream’s jaw to interlock with the blonde's larger and tanner pair.
“I know,” George sighed, fondness dripping from his tone. He opened his mouth to continue but instead paused, deciding what he wanted to say next.
Before he could settle, the blonde spoke. “I know, you don’t have to say it now. We have time.”
The brunette smiled and nodded, settling into Dream's side.
"Yeah, we have time."