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The scar was going to be massive. That was the first thing Dream thought of when he woke up from surgery.
Obviously he knew that it would leave a scar, but when he groggily opened his eyes to see his stomach and torso covered in gauze, he was a little freaked out.
As the effects of the anesthetics began to wear off, Dream only became more and more uncertain of whether or not he made the right decision in getting his excess skin removed.
After all, maybe he deserved to have that permanent reminder of his past. Maybe he deserved to struggle finding clothes that fit him. Maybe he deserved to dread taking his shirt off to swim, to shower, to change clothes. Maybe he deserved to hate—
“Honey?” His mother’s voice snapped him out of his spiral. “You look like something’s bothering you. Do I need to get a nurse?” She began to stand up from her chair in the corner, a concerned look creasing her brow.
Dream shook his head lightly. “No, Mom, I’m alright.”
“Clay, I raised you,” the woman deadpanned, sitting back down and crossing her legs. “Do you really not think I can tell when you’re lying to me?”
The blonde laughed lightly, the sound resonating in the silence of the room, only broken by the constant beeping of the monitors near his bed. “I’m not in any pain,” Dream assured his mother. “I’m just…thinking.”
His mother scoffed. “That’s not at all reassuring.”
“I know,” Dream answered with a chuckle.
“Well, what’s on your mind, honey?” She asked, motherly sincerity dripping from her tone.
The blonde sighed, not wanting to inconvenience his mother any further. She had already made it very clear that she was going to take care of him for the rest of the week and he didn’t want to put her out any more.
However, like she said, Dream’s mother knew him very well and could definitely tell if he was holding something back from her.
“It’s just,” Dream began, not knowing how to put his thoughts into words. “I really don’t know if I made the right choice…getting the procedure done.”
His mother looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“I really don’t know if this was right or…” He paused, the spiraling thoughts still swarming his mind. “I don’t think I deserved this, Mom.”
“Oh, Clay…” Instantly, she stood up and made her way to her son’s bedside, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle embrace.
His mother pulled back, cupping his face with her hands. “You worked so hard for this, dear, and I am so proud of you.”
Dream smiled, eyes blurring with grateful tears. “How did I ever end up with a mom like you?”
“Hm,” his mother put her finger on her chin, pretending to think. “Because you—” she paused to press a kiss to his forehead, “—deserve to be loved.”
— — — — —
“So you actually had to wear a fucking diaper?!” Sapnap asked through hysterical laughter.
They were all sitting in the dining room and enjoying their dinner, which was an occasion even rarer than all three men being home at the same time.
Next to him, George took a sip of his water. “Hm,” he paused to swallow before tauntingly smiling at Dream. “Guess you really are a pissbaby, huh?”
At that, Dream lost it, banging his fist on the table and wheezing. On the opposite side of George, Sapnap choked on whatever food he had in his mouth, prompting George to aggressively smack him on his back.
“Dude!” Sapnap yelled through coughs, swatting at George. “Dream, get your man off of me!”
“Dream!” George loudly whined. “Sapnap hit me!”
The blonde chuckled as the two men continued to wrestle at the table. “Settle down, ladies,” he joked. “You’re both pretty.”
Sapnap mimicked a hair flip at this. “You’re damn right I am.”
Their banter was interrupted by Dream’s watch alarm. “Sorry guys, gotta go take care of this.” He pointed down to his stomach, gesturing to his incision which still required frequent care.
“Alright dude,” Sapnap nodded. “Thanks for making us dinner, it was really good.”
Dream smiled, grateful to have such good friends. He looked expectantly over at George, only to find him zoned out and staring at Dream’s stomach.
The blonde looked down, wondering if he spilled something. At this, George quickly snapped his head back up to look at Dream.
“Yeah,” George rushed out. “The food was good, Dream.”
Dream covered his face, pretending to be shy “Guys, stop! You’re making me blush!”
“Alright, man,” Sapnap laughed. “Go clean your damn incision. I don’t want you whining around here with an infection. I can only deal with one whiny bitch at a time.”
He pointed at George at “whiny bitch”, which led to another wrestling match and shouts of “I’ll show you a whiny bitch!” from the brunette.
The blonde sighed as he made his way upstairs slowly, still having to be thoughtful of how he moved. After a much longer walk than usual, Dream opened the door to his en suite bathroom. He paused upon entering, taking a moment to look at himself in the mirror.
After the chaos of his face reveal, he had assured his audience that he was in a good place with his self image and that they didn’t need to worry about him. Of course, that was total bullshit.
He used to be over 500 pounds and had done so much work to look the best he ever had, only for people to call fat and ugly. That was a massive hit to his ego and it had continued to hang over his head since.
The whole “body positivity” thing that his therapist had taught him really crumbled as well. For him, being positive while still carrying around 15 pounds of loose skin as a permanent reminder of who he used to be was a total pain in the ass.
Most days, the blonde really did feel ugly. He showered with the lights off, changed in his closet, and even went as far to cover up his mirror at one point.
While he was doing better, there were still hard days. As he continued to stare himself down in the mirror, dreading having to take his shirt off to care for the incision, he knew that today would be one of those days.
A sudden knock at his door caused him to yelp as he scrambled to compose himself.
He cracked open the bathroom door to find George wandering around his room. The blonde watched him as he picked up the various trinkets Dream had collected and set on his shelves over the years.
Noticing his presence, George looked over at the blonde. “Hey,” he said gently.
Dream pushed the door open completely. “Hey, yourself.”
The brunette looked down at Dream’s stomach again, worrying his lip between his teeth as he stared. “Did you do it yet?”
“Huh?” Dream asked, confused.
George nodded towards his stomach. “Y’know,” he muttered. “The cleaning thing.”
“Oh, uh,” the blonde paused. “Not yet.”
George walked closer to Dream, concern written across his face. “You’ve been up here for 15 minutes, Dream.”
Oh, fuck.
“I—Wow, guess I got distracted,” Dream laughed, trying to come up with some sort of excuse.
The brunette rolled his eyes and pushed past the blonde as he walked into the bathroom. “Dream, I know when you’re lying to me.” He hopped up onto the counter, just barely making him taller than Dream.
“George, I’m—” the blonde sighed, exhausted. “I’m fine, I promise.”
“Ok, fine,” George deadpanned. “Take your shirt off then.”
Dream choked. “George! What do you mean?”
“If you’re so okay, take off your shirt and let me do your incision care,” the brunette challenged.
“What do you—what?” Dream sputtered, embarrassed at the proposal.
“If nothing is wrong with you,” George clarified. “Then you should have no issue with me seeing you.”
Dream looked down in silence, scratching the back of his neck. The brunette reached forward, grabbing his wrist and halting the nervous tick.
“Dream, please,” George begged, as he moved his hand to interlock with the blonde’s. “You can talk to me. I want to know what’s going on.”
The taller moved to lean on the counter, letting his and George’s interlocked hands fall between them. Dream took a deep breath before tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling.
“George, have I ever told you what I looked like when I was younger?” He looked over at the brunette, who was staring into space, thinking.
“Not really,” the shorter man shrugged. “I mean, I’ve seen pictures, but that’s about it.”
“Well,” Dream began. “When I was about 17, I weighed over 500 pounds.”
He stopped, ready for a gasp of surprise or any reaction at all.
However, when the taller man looked over, George was staring back at him, no sign of any judgment on his face. He simply sported a look of gentle encouragement as he squeezed Dream’s hand, prompting him to continue.
“That New Year’s Eve, I decided I wanted to change. I was unhappy—I had been for a really long time.”
As Dream continued speaking, George said nothing, only nodding and occasionally squeezing the other man’s hand. When he began talking about how he felt after waking up in the hospital, the brunette let out a choked sound.
The blonde immediately looked in his direction, worried, only to find a tear streaming down his face, leaving a wet trail on alabaster skin.
“Oh, God, George—I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you upset—”
The shorter man grabbed him, burying his head in Dream’s shoulder as he gently placed his hands on the blonde’s waist.
George looked up at Dream through his eyelashes. “Dream, you’re so fucking beautiful. You have to know that.” The brunette lifted his head, watery brown eyes meeting swirls of blue and green.
The blonde reached up to George’s face, letting his hands rest on a stubbled jaw.
They were so close, noses almost touching as their breath fanned onto each other’s faces. When another tear gently fell from George’s eye, Dream leaned down in a moment of impulse and kissed it off of his skin.
Instantly, Dream pulled back, wide-eyed and wearing a look of concern, worried he had made the brunette uncomfortable.
Suddenly, laughter rang out in the silent room as George covered his mouth to quiet the noise.
“Your face!” he shrieked, words muffled behind his hand. “You look so scared!”
Dream couldn’t help but join in, letting their laughter mix in the small room and reverberate off of the wall.
“Oh, shit,” the blonde swore through chuckles. “I was so worried I freaked you out or pushed you too far—”
“Dream,” George interrupted, still recovering from his own laughing fit. “I literally walked in here and told you to take your shirt off.”
“I know,” Dream laughed quietly, checking the shorter man with his shoulder softly. “I just, I dunno…” he trailed off.
“Oh my god, Dream,” George quickly moved from beside the blonde, throwing one leg over the taller man’s thighs, sitting on his lap as he grabbed his face.
“You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.” The brunette punctuated each word with a purposeful and annoyingly loud kiss on Dream’s face. First on his forehead, then on his left and right cheek, before he finally landed on the blonde’s lips in a chaste kiss.
George pulled back, still staring into Dream’s eyes. “You got it?” he asked, brow creased with a jokingly stern face.
“I—yeah,” the blonde sputtered out with a frantic nod, completely in shock of the man in his lap.
The shorter man smiled. “Good, now let’s get your stupid incision taken care of.”
George moved off of Dream’s lap before hopping off the counter, gesturing for the blonde to do the same. Dream reached into one of the drawers, pulling out the incision care kit that his mother had made him.
The brunette snatched the bag from Dream. “‘Clay, heart’,” he read out, mocking the label Dream’s mom had put on the kit. The blonde swatted at him, grabbing the kit from George’s hands. Dream set the bag on the counter, opening the bag’s seal and getting out the necessary supplies.
As silence surrounded the pair, Dream looked up into the mirror, seeing George staring back at him. Dream raised his eyebrows, silently asking, what’s on your mind?
“Can I do it?” George asked quietly. “Can I clean the incision?”
With a trusting smile, Dream nodded. “Yeah, that would be nice.”
The blonde moved his hands to grab the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and revealing the dressing around his abdomen.
“Wait.”
George’s command halted his motions. He looked at the brunette, whose hands soon found their way on top of his.
“Could you…” George paused, trailing off. “Can I take your shirt off?”
Dream looked down, nervous. He knew that George would never do anything that he didn’t want, but no one had ever seen him so…vulnerable.
But right now, George was looking up at him like he had hung the moon and the stars, and he trusted the brunette with everything he had.
The blonde took a shaky deep breath before nodding, dropping his hands to his side.
Slowly, George tightened his fingers around the hem of Dream’s shirt, gently lifting it up and over his head. Of course, the brunette had to stand on his toes to fully get the shirt off, which allowed Dream to lightly jab him in the side with his index.
After a quick death glare thrown towards the blonde, George set the shirt on the counter and turned back to Dream, letting his eyes roam across the man’s now exposed torso. Still feeling a little self conscious, Dream had positioned his arms to cover his now exposed waist.
“Dream?” George asked lightly, placing his hands on top of the taller man’s arms. “Is this okay so far?”
“Yeah,” Dream assured with a nervous chuckle. “This is just…new.”
The brunette nodded before taking a step back, swiftly removing his own shirt in one smooth motion and placing it on the counter with Dream’s.
“There,” George smiled. “Now we’re even.”
The taller man chuckled at this. “Not in height,” he quipped, flicking the shorter man’s forehead.
“Just let me be nice!” George jokingly scolded, swatting at Dream’s hand.
“Ok, ok,” Dream threw his hands up in surrender before bending his arms and lifting them completely. “Undress me, doctor.”
“What?!” The brunette choked out, scandalized.
The blonde laughed quickly. “The wound, idiot. Undress the wound.” He nodded towards the bandages covering his abdomen.
“Oh,” George paused. “Are you sure that’s okay?”
Dream nodded with certainty. “I’m sure.”
With careful and surprisingly deft hands, George removed the bandages, pausing his actions intermittently to make sure the taller man wasn’t uncomfortable or in any kind of pain. Soon, all of the bandages had been removed, piled across the floor at Dream’s feet.
The blonde stretched lightly, enjoying the feeling of not being so constricted. Slowly, as to not strain himself, Dream handed George a rag. “Make sure the water isn’t too cold,” he instructed softly.
“Is that, like, a medical thing?” George asked with a quick giggle.
“Yes,” Dream answered, matter-of-factly. “I’m also cold,” he added with a laugh.
With a quick roll of his eyes, the brunette turned on the tap, letting it warm up slightly before wetting the rag and wringing it out. Once he was facing Dream, he crouched down onto his knees, allowing him to have better access to the incision.
“Ok,” George paused, bringing the damp rag to Dream’s skin. “Let me know if anything feels off.”
Dream took a deep breath in, preparing for the harsh feeling against his sensitive skin. He dreaded this part, even when it came to doing it himself. Without fail, he would always press too hard or do something wrong…wait.
Why is he letting George do this? George would feel so bad if he hurt him, he couldn’t imagine hurting the man like that. Oh, god, he should really—
“Alright,” the brunette sighed, standing up. “Do you think that’s clean enough?”
What? Is he…?
“Dream, are you okay?” George asked, now standing in front of him.
“You’re done?”
George looked confused before breaking into light laughter. “I finished cleaning it, isn’t there more glizz I have to cover it in?”
The blonde suddenly wrapped his arms around George, bringing their bare chests together. George laughed, confused by the sudden display. “What’s up with you?”
“It’s just,” Dream began, words muffled in the shorter man’s hair. “It usually hurts when I clean it and you just…did it.”
“Oh, Dream,” George tightened his grip around broad shoulders before stepping back, looking up into the taller man’s eyes. “You’re—you’re beautiful. You know that, right?”
Dream stared back, speechless at the shorter man’s words.
“Say it,” George demanded with a smile. “Say it, Dream.
“I—I guess, uh,” the blonde sputtered, embarrassed.
The brunette slowly dropped down onto his knees again, positioning himself in front of Dream’s scar.
As he looked up through lidded eyes, George pressed his lips to each dip and divot around the incision. Dream muffled the sound that came from his throat with the back of his hand, succumbing to the way his body was being worshiped.
After deeming the area sufficiently covered in his love, George stood back up and wrapped his arms around Dream once more, peppering the splotches of freckles on his shoulder and collarbone with kisses until the blonde burst out in laughter.
“George!” he shrieked. “Stop, I’m— pfft —I’m ticklish there!”
The brunette continued the onslaught, shaking his head and muffling out a “say it!” in-between kisses.
“Alright,” Dream fake-sighed. “I guess I'm—”
With a grunt, the blonde reached down to the underside of George’s thighs, scooping him into his arms and carrying him to his bed.
“ DREAM !” George shouted, wriggling in his arms. “I need to put the bandages back on!”
The blonde laid him down at the foot of the bed with a pained sound before standing up fully. “ Whew, okay,” Dream heaved out, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to catch his breath. “I think I get why the doctors told me not to over-exert myself.”
George scoffed with a smile as he sat up, invitingly patting the spot on the bed next to him. Slowly, as to not strain his body any further, Dream eased down next to the brunette.
Gently, George wrapped his arms around the blonde, holding the taller man as close as he could. “Dream?” He asked, sounding uncertain.
“Yeah?” Dream responded, clearly still attempting to catch his breath.
“Do you…” The brunette paused before looking down at the man in his arms. “Do you still feel that way about your body?”
Dream looked up, meeting George’s eyes. “Not when I’m with you.”
— — — — —
The scar was massive, that was the first thing Dream noticed. George, on the other hand, said it looked like the ender dragon bit him.
When it had finally begun to heal, it left the blonde’s entire stomach branded by blue and purple. Dream thought that he deserved the permanent marking as a reminder. George, on the other hand, kissed it until Dream cried under the love and worship.
“Maybe you should post a picture of it,” George blurted out one day.
They were laying together in bed with their limbs tangled together, just enjoying each other.
When the brunette saw the way Dream was smiling, he frowned. “I’m serious, Dream. I think it could really, like, I dunno…empower people who went through the same things you did.”
The blonde was silent for a moment as he thought about the other man’s words. He thought about his younger self and everything he had gone through. He thought about all the snide remarks and jokes that had been made to his face. He thought about how different everyone made him feel—how different he felt.
Then Dream thought about his audience, most of whom are the same age as he was when he felt so alone. He wondered how different things would have been if someone had been there to tell him that they understood what he was feeling. Maybe he could be that someone.
Dream sighed deeply. “You’re right.”
“I know,” George reapplied, the smile obvious in his voice.
The taller man pulled out his phone, scrolling through his camera roll until he found the latest post-op picture he had sent to his mom. She insisted on being updated at every stage of her son’s healing process, and who was Dream to say no to his lovely mother?
Dream showed the picture to George, who nodded. “It’s perfect.”
The blonde paused, staring at the purple scar that covered his entire abdomen.
George noticed his hesitation. “Hey,” he beckoned, putting his hand to Dream’s jaw and turning it towards him. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
Dream leaned further into the brunette’s hand. “No, I want to. It’s just a lot. Having a permanent reminder of the way I used to be covering my entire stomach is a little…much”
George caressed the stubble on the blonde’s jawline, leaning in close to his face. “You know, that’s not a bad thing. It shows that you’ve changed. And now,” He paused to peck Dream’s nose, smiling at the way the taller man flinched away from the feeling. “You’re an even bigger idiot.”
“ An idiot?” Dream repeated with a playful grin. “I thought you loved me?”
The brunette shrugged before pressing a kiss to the blonde's lips. “I guess I love an idiot, then.”
Dream posted the picture later that night.