Archive of Our Own ^beta

On a random Monday morning, George asks Dream if he wants to get married. 

It’s one that’s no different than any other–they had woken up pressed close in their bed, Patches pawing at Dream’s shoulder as she meowed for his attention. The sun seeping in from behind the curtains cast a warm glow over their sheets, and George had sleepily grinned at him and whined for him to come back when Dream had slowly dragged himself out of bed to feed Patches.

After he’d filled her bowl and cooed at her as she ate, he’d wanted to return to their bed. Instead, he started cooking them breakfast.

George had trailed in the room at some point, pressing himself flush against Dream from behind and complaining with his face pressed to the center of Dream’s back about how the bed had grown cold–how he betrayed him by not coming back. Dream could only scoff as he pressed back into the warmth of George’s embrace, squeezing his arm where it had been wrapped around his waist. Relishing in the way he could relax into it without being worried about Sapnap walking in the room at any moment, since he had left to visit family for a few days.

He asks when they’re sat beside each other at the island, ankles intertwined as they eat with Patches walking across the countertop in front of them. When Dream had tried to shoo her off the counter, it had only taken one look at George’s scrunched up face for him to leave it. 

“We should get married.” 

The words make Dream choke on the scrambled eggs in his mouth, and George just stares at him blankly as he coughs and takes a drink of his water.

“ What ?” Dream finally manages through his coughs that finally are starting to subside, Patches jumping off the counter and darting from the room at the sudden noise.

“I’m not saying it again.” When Dream glances at him, he’s staring down at his plate, shoulders curling in as his hands clasp each other. 

And, before he can overthink it, Dream gives in.

“Ok, yeah. We should get married,” he nods to himself, reaching out to pull George’s hands apart and link their fingers together. “Did you mean, like, soon ? Or?”

When George glances up, he’s bright pink. Dream can tell he’s fighting back a grin, even through his clear anxiety in bringing this up.

“I mean, like, today .” George murmurs, eyes still not meeting Dream’s.

“George.” It’s all Dream can think to say. He tries to quell all of the overwhelming thoughts that immediately start rushing to the forefront of his mind, his appetite suddenly gone. He pushes his plate away, and turns sideways in his seat to face George head on.

“Just… don’t freak out, okay?” 

And all Dream can think of is everything those exact words have led up to before–the first time the visa was denied, the time George had told him he thought he was depressed. Delirious, sleep-deprived late night confessions of more existing between them, confirmation that the constant push and pull between them across an almost non-existent line wasn’t just a figment of Dream’s imagination. 

What he knows most of all, though, is those words have always held a hidden meaning–it’s George saying trust me . Please trust me, and don’t freak out.

And like he has every time this has been asked of him in the past almost-decade, he trusts him. He trusts him, staying calm even as George wordlessly stands, dragging Dream up the stairs with their hands tightly intertwined in silent reassurance.

George leads them into his office, and he silently squeezes Dream’s hand before settling in at his computer, logging in and clicking through an array of folders hidden within folders that tell Dream this is something he didn’t want anyone else to find. Only when he finally has a spreadsheet open does he turn to face Dream again.

“Don’t freak out.” George repeats, standing from his chair and gesturing for Dream to sit. 

Hesitantly, he sinks down. When he looks up at George, he’s hovering nervously beside him, hands clasped together in front of him.

“Look, Dream.” George mutters, rotating the chair to make Dream face the monitor.

The first thing Dream notices is the title of the spreadsheet at the top of the tab. It’s titled Getting Married in Florida . Something warm settles low in his stomach reading it, a feeling he isn’t quite able to decipher. The next thing he notices are the two different sheets: one titled “eloping,” and the other titled “wedding.” The sheet that George has opened is the one on elopement.

Each column is neatly organized, with checklists laying out every step necessary to get married. There’s even hyperlinks throughout, with titles like county clerk’s marriage FAQ and Family Law Handbook . 

“George.” He can hear the thickness of his own voice–knows the honeyed softness reserved exclusively for George in moments like these has emerged without even trying. It’s made even worse with how George places his hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently as he leans over the back of the chair to rest his chin atop Dream’s head. He can’t even be bothered to complain about how it must be messing up his hair.

“So you have to apply for a marriage license first,” George begins, and Dream can feel the vibration of it against his scalp. “And then if you don’t take this, like, dumb class before you apply, you have to wait three days before you can actually get married.”

“So how do we do that?” Because he already knows he’s all in, in the way he always is with impulses and George. They fuel each other most like this, in pushing endlessly and egging each other on to do something that might be ridiculous. 

“You have to make an appointment to apply for the license,” George murmurs, and Dream can feel as he turns his face to press into his hair. “And we have one. Today at 1.”

A beat.

“ George ,” Dream breathes out. “That’s in three hours .”

“Well, you better get ready then, silly.” And even as he’s putting on a joking front, Dream still knows him. Can hear the nerves present in his voice, and feel the way that his hands tremble just the slightest where they’re still pressed against Dream’s shoulders.

“George,” Dream stands from the chair, crowding in close to him as he clasps his hands in his own, pulling until they’re chest to chest. “Oh my God. I love you. So fucking much, dude.”

“Did you just call me dude ?” George is feigning disgust as he looks up at Dream, but he can still see how his eyes shine with tears under the overhead lighting of his office. 

“Yeah. Are you gonna say it back, idiot?” He wraps his arms around George, squeezing him tight to his chest and sinking a hand into the hair at the base of his neck.

“Okay, dude .” Dream tugs on his hair lightly at the words, causing George to screech and pinch his side.

When George pulls away, he glares at Dream. He can’t bother to take him seriously when his cheeks are flushed bright red and he can’t seem to wipe the grin off his face. 

“Let's get ready then, fiancé .” And the words make Dream’s heart feel like it’s going to burst, even as he trails helplessly behind George to their bedroom and continues their bickering while they get ready together.

*

In the car, George is giggly.

“Dream,” he can barely get the words out, his voice full of joy. “We’re speedrunning marriage.”

“You’re so dumb.” Dream mutters in response, rolling his eyes as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

“What do you think the marriage speedrun world record is?” As he says it, he starts typing on his phone, and Dream knows he’s looking it up.

“I don’t know. Can’t you like, walk in somewhere and get married in Vegas? So people there are getting married quicker than we are.” The concept of them getting married still doesn’t feel real, and that he can say the words so casually makes his heart race.

“We should’ve gone to Vegas,” George says. “And there’s no marriage world record. The only thing I can find is how quickly people got divorced. The world record for fastest divorce was three minutes after getting married. What an L.”

“Major L.” Dream parrots back at him, looking over his shoulder as he merges onto the highway.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” George bursts out, reopening his phone. “They’re gonna make us sign something that says we read this handbook thing. So I’m going to read it out loud.”

Dream nods along, glancing in the rearview mirror as George continues.

He reads through what seems to be the general introduction of the handbook, deepening his voice slightly to read through the words.

“This part about marriage is really important, Dream,” George giggles with the words. “It says it is more than legal permission to have consensual sexual relations with your partner .”

“Does that mean our consensual sexual relations have been illegal before now?” Dream sputters out, feeling his own cheeks warming.

“I don’t know, actually.” George responds, still scrolling through the document. “It also says just like learning how to drive, you can learn how to handle problems in your marriage .”

“Well, you can’t drive.”

“Guess our marriage is doomed, then. All because I can’t drive.” With the words, George reaches out and squeezes Dream’s hand where it rests on the gearshift before quickly releasing it.

“Well, maybe if you would do what you’re supposed to so you could learn to drive–”

“The next part is dumb,” George interrupts, ignoring Dream’s annoyance at his not handling the paperwork he needs to to get his driver’s permit. “It’s about, like, what happens if you get divorced. We don’t need to read it.”

“We’re supposed to read all of it.” Even as he forces the words out, Dream feels dizzy at the implication–that them divorcing is so far out of the realm of possibility for George that they don’t even need to consider what it would entail.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter,” George continues on, pushing his hair back from his face. “The rest is about the laws for combining finances and property, which doesn’t matter when I already do your taxes.”

And George is right–their lives are already inexplicably intertwined in ways that there’s no going back from. If anything, they’re already married in all but the legal status. It’s a thought that Dream can’t escape once he has it, this realization that George has been it for him for far longer than he would ever be willing to admit. 

Instead of letting himself succumb to it, he holds out his hand. Without hesitation, George reaches back and intertwines their fingers silently.

*

Going to the courthouse to obtain their marriage license passes in a blur.

George does most of the talking, from telling the security guard at the front desk why they were there to reciting their information to the woman helping them apply for their marriage license. It’s boring, like any paperwork is. Except Dream feels almost out of his body knowing this isn’t just any paperwork. It’s all the boring proceedings associated with getting fucking married .

All he registers is that he responds appropriately when addressed, and signs a bunch of forms when prompted. Beyond that, he can only focus on the occasional light touches George applies to his arm that quiet the radio static buzzing in his head.

Before he knows it, he’s being led out of the courthouse and down the street back to the car. When they reach it, George tugs his keys out of his hands and unlocks it, opening Dream’s door for him. He settles into the driver’s seat, blinking into the bright sunlight as George gets in the passenger seat.

“Are you back with me, idiot?” George grabs Dream’s shoulder with the words, turning him so they’re facing each other. 

Dream thinks the thickness of the air in the car might be choking him, because he can’t seem to get any words out. Instead of responding, he quickly starts the car, sighing in relief once the air conditioning kicks on and begins cooling them off.

“ Dream .” He can hear the annoyance in George’s voice, but when he turns to look at him he’s smiling.

“Hi.” He mumbles under his breath, embarrassed at how overwhelmed he’s been for the past half an hour.

“Don’t do that.” George’s voice softens, sweet in the way it is when he’s worried. 

Distantly, Dream is sure his teeth would ache from the sweetness of it if he were to kiss him right now. The only thing stopping him is the hyperawareness that they’re in an extremely public place where anybody passing by could see them.

“George.” He breathes out, leaning into the gentle touch George has pressed to his arm. 

“Dream.” George lifts his hand as he says it, cupping the side of Dream’s neck with his palm. 

Dream can’t help but giggle, squirming away from the touch. “Ew, your hands are cold, what the fuck? It’s, like, a hundred degrees outside.”

“So now you hate me because my hands are cold, okay.” George jokes, leaning back in his seat and lowering his hand to rest on Dream’s shoulder over his shirt.

Dream sighs, settling back in his own seat. Suddenly, it strikes him. “George, oh my god. We have a fucking marriage license.”

When George laughs, it’s the one Dream knows only makes an appearance around him. It’s loud, and sounds like even George is almost shocked with it every time it happens. “We’re getting married in three days. That’s ludicrous .”

When he looks over at George, taking in the sight of how his hair curls with the humidity and his skin shines with a sheen of what must be sweat, he notices how his chain glitters under the sunlight shining into the car. Even now, over a year into him wearing it, he can’t help the warmth that settles low in his gut at the sight of it.

It sets off a spiral in his mind, of George being so obviously marked as his. Then, it dawns on him.

“George, oh my god,” Dream sits up, leaning into George’s space. “I didn’t get you an engagement ring, what the hell?”

Instead of responding, George only laughs. Dream smacks at his arm, and George squirms away from the touch as much as he can with the door of the car pressing into his back.

“I’m being serious , dude. You’re my fiancé and I haven’t even bought you a damn ring.”

When he looks over at George again, his cheeks have gone pink. He wants to reach out and touch, but stops himself.

“ Dream . I don’t care that you didn’t get me a ring,” George’s smile that accompanies the words could rival the sun, Dream thinks. “We literally got engaged today . I, like, attacked you with it or something. And I don’t need a ring, anyway.”

He wants to protest, and argue that the least George deserves is a ring to celebrate this new state of being between them. Instead, before he can, he catches sight of the metal glinting on his own hand beneath the sun, and an idea hits him.

He picks the ring he wears on his pinky, figuring it would likely be the best fit. He can see George staring at him out of the corner of his eye, a confused look on his face as he watches Dream remove his ring. Wordlessly, he reaches out and grabs George’s hand, before sliding the ring down onto his ring finger.

“ Dream .” The words are barely intelligible, mumbled under his breath in astonishment.

He feels breathless looking down at where George’s hand rests in his. The ring is still too big for his finger, even though it’s the one from Dream’s pinky. The thought is enough to leave him reeling, thinking about how big he is compared to George.

It almost feels wrong, though, for it to not be a perfect fit. This moment should have been perfect . In a perfect world, he was able to plan their engagement out in advance, and he bought George a custom ring that fit him perfectly.

Here, though, he tries his best to work with what’s in front of him. When he spots a spare napkin laying in the cupholder beneath their hands, an idea hits him. He grabs it, tearing off a small piece of it and crumpling it up. Then, he takes George’s hand back in his, and shoves the small piece inside the ring beside his finger.

It looks silly, really. The brown napkin looks out of place sitting next to George’s singer inside of the shiny silver ring. Yet, it does what Dream had intended for it to do–it makes the ring fit him.

“You’re so dumb, Dream.” He can tell George is trying to make fun of him, but his words are entirely too full of emotion. 

“You can keep this ring until I can get you a different one.” Dream murmurs, still holding George’s hand in his own. 

The moment feels fragile, and like he could break it by even breathing too hard. He cradles George’s hand that dawns his ring like something breakable.

He isn’t sure how long they sit there in silence, both of them staring down at the ring. Finally, though, George’s stomach growling breaks the moment, and they both giggle at the sound.

They bicker over where to stop for food once Dream starts driving, and he finally gives in to going out for sushi after George argues that it’s a special occasion, Dream, we’re engaged.

He isn’t quite sure how the food tastes, anyway. It doesn’t quite register when he can’t be bothered to do much but stare at George’s hands where they hold the chopsticks, his ring glittering under the dim lighting where it rests against the thumb George had moved it to.

There, it’s a perfect fit.

*

Dream thinks these might be the longest three days of his life.

He’d thought time had passed in slow motion in the days leading up to George’s arrival all that time ago, but this just might pass slower. Because at the end of these three days, he’ll get to call George his husband, and it’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

He tries his best not to think about it too hard, for fear of overthinking it more than he has to. In the interim, he tries to just focus on spending time with George.

It’s pretty easy to do, really. George doesn’t stray far from his side in the days following their engagement, even going so far as asking Dream to shower together. He never quite feels fully clean after they do, but he still gives in when George asks. 

Sapnap had arrived back home the day after their engagement, and they had agreed to not tell him yet. Dream felt like he was fit to burst with this knowledge that only he and George knew, and like he might die if he couldn’t tell Sapnap or Bad or someone . 

Still, though. He respects George’s wishes, and tries his best to avoid Sapnap around the house so it doesn’t burst out of him without trying. 

By day two of this, though, Sapnap corners him in the living room.

He’s cornering both of them, really. Because George is asleep across Dream’s lap on the couch, his breathing deep and even. They’d settled in the living room to watch a movie together, and George had passed out halfway through when it proved boring. Dream had simply sat in silence ever since, running a hand gently through George’s hair and even continuing to sit there long after the movie had ended and the TV had gone to sleep. It’s how Sapnap finds him, and Dream winces when he turns on the overhead light in the kitchen.

“ Nick , turn that shit off, dude! George is sleeping.” Dream hurries out in a loud whisper, hoping it doesn’t wake George. He breathes a sigh of relief when he shows no sign of life other than his continued even breathing.

“Why the fuck are you just sitting here in the dark like a freak? And I don’t give a shit if George is asleep, he’s a bitch anyways.” Sapnap’s voice is at a normal level, and Dream winces, knowing it’s a lost cause.

“We were watching a movie and he fell asleep.” He mumbles, pausing his hand’s movement through George’s hair.

“So you just… Sat in the dark? Why didn’t you wake him up, idiot?” And Sapnap is laughing at him now, and Dream can feel his cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“He was tired today.” He knows he sounds like an idiot. But he’s just being honest.

“You are such a fucking simp, dude. It’s pathetic. It would be, like, L rizz if George wasn’t also an idiot.” With it, Sapnap crosses the room and turns on the other overhead light, filling the entire room with harsh bright white light.

“You are such an asshole, oh my god.” Dream groans, not bothering with his volume anymore knowing George is likely awake by now. Still, though, he places a hand over George’s eyes, trying to shield them from the light.

“ This is what I mean. Holy shit.” Sapnap is back to laughing at him as he watches them.

Beneath his hands, Dream can feel as George begins to stir. When he moves his hand to the side, George is groggily blinking up at him, a frown on his face. It makes Dream’s heart ache, wishing he could have let him sleep longer. Distantly, he wonders if he should start charging Sapnap rent, but quickly realizes how irrational of a thought that is.

George’s voice is deep with sleep when he speaks. “Dr’m? Why’s the light on?”

He shushes him quietly, running a soothing hand through his hair and speaking gently. “Sorry, baby. I tried to let you sleep.”

“Please stop making me watch this. I will kill myself.”

“Please do it, Sapnap.” George groans out without missing a beat, and Dream puts his head in his hands with a sigh.

“You would miss me too much, kitten,” Sapnap laughs, then turns to face Dream. “Now you. You skipped watching football with me. What the hell, man?”

Immediately, he feels bad. He’d been set on avoiding Sapnap so he didn’t blurt out to him what’s going on, and had locked himself in his office when he’d texted him to ask if he wanted to order food and watch together. He knows he needs to make it up to him, but he can’t until after they’re fucking married and after Sapnap knows what’s up.

And, suddenly overwhelmed by it, he let’s it burst out of him.

“George and I are getting married.”

The words hang in the air between the three of them. Then, George is smacking his chest, hard, and Dream winces.

“What the fuck, Dream?” George sits up, glaring at him in annoyance and suddenly wide awake. “We said we wouldn’t tell him.”

“I had to tell somebody , George,” he pulls his knees to his chest, burying his face between them in embarrassment. “I was literally going to die without telling someone. Or post it on Twitter.”

Here, Sapnap finally speaks. “Were you going to let me find out on fucking Twitter?”

When Dream looks up, he realizes he’s angry . It’s rare coming from Sapnap, and he’s immediately concerned. 

“Obviously not, Nick. We were gonna tell you, I promise.”

“That’s not what it sounds like,” he’s already deflating, and Dream breathes out a sigh of relief. “But what the fuck do you mean you’re getting married?”

“Are you deaf, Sapnap? What do you think it means?”

“George, please.” Dream reaches a hand out to touch him, but George swats it away.

“Don’t George me. This is your problem, you told him. I’m going to sleep again. Come find me once you’ve sorted this out.” And with the words, George stands and trails from the room, down the hall toward their bedroom.

When he looks back at Sapnap, he mostly just looks… Disappointed. Sad, even. Without hesitating, Dream gestures at him, and Sapnap sinks down into the couch beside him. Wordlessly, Dream throws an arm over his shoulders, tugging him in roughly.

“Sorry for telling you like this.” He mumbles.

He can feel the tension leave Sapnap’s shoulders as he settles further into the couch, and hears him sigh. “I’m genuinely just confused, bro. What is going on?”

“So, uh,” Dream begins, suddenly nervous. “Like I said, we’re getting married. We went to the courthouse and applied for a marriage license, and now we’re just. Waiting to get married, ‘cause they make you wait. It’s really dumb.”

Sapnap shrugs his arm off his shoulder, and it leaves Dream feeling off balance. When he looks at him, Sapnap is avoiding eye contact, staring pointedly at the fireplace in front of them. 

“Doesn’t this feel, like, soon ? I’m gone to Texas for a few days and suddenly you guys are getting married without telling me?”

To Dream, it doesn’t feel like it’s soon at all. In the back of his mind, he knows this is years in the making–something that first began all the way back when George first suggested marrying him as a joke, and then as a way to get his visa. If he thought about it too hard, it was almost like a small seed that had been planted in the back of his mind years ago, and had slowly grown branches that curled around his mind without him noticing. It’s why he said yes with no hesitation the moment George asked. It’s why he had followed him to the courthouse without any arguments, and why he was now left explaining it to Sapnap because he was so happy he couldn’t help but share.

In Sapnap’s eyes, though, he knows it looks abrupt. They had only really been dating for a little over a year, even if they’d blurred the lines between friends and partners for much longer. And they had only told Sapnap they were dating about 10 months ago, and it only come after he had caught Dream fucking holding George in the middle of their kitchen. So it makes sense–to Sapnap, this is abrupt.

He knows he needs to reassure him. 

“I mean, it’s not really that soon.” He winces at how pathetic his words sound, even to his own ears.

“Alright, man, so tell me about all the planning that went into it.”

And he can’t really answer that. Because George had this crazy spreadsheet where he’d secretly been planning out our marriage for months and asked me on a whim and I said yes isn’t an adequate answer, and seems insane to anyone who isn’t them.

At his silence, Sapnap scoffs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Nick, please,” Dream pleads, tugging on his arm. When Sapnap finally turns to look at him, he keeps talking. “I just need you to trust me, okay? We know what we’re doing. It’s gonna be fine, I promise.”

And, even though he doesn’t look pleased with the answer, Sapnap finally backs off. “Okay, man. If you guys fuck this up, I’m killing you both.”

“Deal.”

“And I better be your best man.”

It’s the first time Dream has felt any sadness about this–the realization that he’s missing out on the experience of Sapnap getting to be his best man by forgoing a wedding. He especially hates knowing that he has to break the news to Sapnap, who has been bringing up being his best man since they were both annoying teenagers who only knew each other through Minecraft skins and Skype calls down shitty mics.

“We’re not having a wedding, dude.” He thinks he can feel his heart physically break as he watches Sapnap’s face fall.

“Then how are you getting married?”

“At the courthouse.” He mumbles, fidgeting with his hands.

Sapnap perks up again, rolling his eyes at the words. “Okay, awesome, I can just go with you.”

“Do they allow that?” Dream really isn’t sure–he hadn’t quite been tapped in when the woman in the marriage license department had explained the process to them.

“Yeah, man! I went with my mom and my stepdad when they got married, and I was just a little kid. So I can definitely go now.” He seems almost giddy at the thought of it now, and Dream couldn’t be happier.

“You can definitely go, Nick, yeah.” Dream nods along, sadness finally easing.

“When is it?”

It dawns on Dream, then, that even he isn’t quite sure. And it’s embarrassing as hell having to admit it to Sapnap, who swings a throw pillow at him while calling him an idiot when he tells him he has to ask George.

He doesn’t bother stopping him when he goes stomping down the hallway toward their bedroom, knowing he’s going to rudely wake George. He thinks he deserves to, just this once.

*

The night before they’re due to get married, Dream is haunted by a conversation they once had, months and months ago in the LA house.

They’d been settled close together on the couch, knees bumping mindlessly as the TV played some random show in front of them. Neither of them had been paying attention to it. Instead, they’d mostly been focused on each other, having a night full of random conversations that was similar to their old Discord calls from across an ocean.

He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten on the topic, but before he knew it they’d been talking about marriage.

“I think I wanna get married someday.” He breathed out, fidgeting with his hands. Breaching topics like this was always like trying to jump across a ravine–every sentence ended with phantom whispers of with you. I think I wanna get married someday, with you . 

Usually, George was always there to meet him in the middle. Here, he wasn’t, and it felt like Dream was free falling.

“I’ve never really thought about it, I don’t think.”

Were you not thinking about it every time you asked me to marry you? Dream wanted to cry out. Were you not thinking about it when you had to go to the Bahamas and we didn’t know if you’d get to come back?  

Aloud, he spoke timidly. “I mean, surely you’ve thought about it at least a little bit.”

“It’s like, of course I have, yeah,” George shifted in his seat, and Dream could tell he was uncomfortable. “I just don’t get it, I guess.”

“What is there to get?” Dream scooted closer to him, knocking their knees together gently.

“Like, what’s the point? It’s just a piece of paper, isn’t it? Why does it matter?” George stared pointedly ahead at the wall, refusing to look at Dream. 

Still, Dream persevered. “I mean, yeah, technically I guess. But it’s also, like–getting married , you know?” And Dream couldn’t stop the rush of words from his mouth, suddenly set on convincing George to see his side of it. “It’s just a piece of paper, but it’s also what it means , yeah? Like, it’s getting to be with your person for the rest of your life or whatever. You’re supposed to be making a promise to someone that you’ll spend the rest of your life with them, and take care of them, and everything else and it’s like, pretty cool if you ask me, I guess.”

When he finally glanced up, George had been staring at him, a thoughtful look on his face.

Hear me out , Dream had tried to push his way telepathically. Please tell me you know I’m talking about us.

As if he had somehow heard the message, George had giggled. “Bro is like, selling me on marriage. How much do you charge for your services?”

And Dream couldn’t help but let out a shocked laugh at the unexpectedness of the statement, even though it was so George in trying to make it all less serious.

“A million dollars, George. You owe me a million dollars for that.”

And George had only giggled, before conceding. “I wouldn’t pay a million for it, but I’d maybe pay, like… Something.”

And in a distinctly George way, he knew he was saying back I get it. I understand now.

In the back of his mind, Dream always wonders if that night is what prompted the beginning of the spreadsheet.

*

The morning of their courthouse wedding is characterized by silence.

A strange, quiet energy had settled over the three of them. He and George had woken in their bed pressed together, so entangled that Dream wasn’t sure where he ended and George began. Even as they’d woken up more, they had both stayed quiet, speaking in only whispers and scared to break the fragile state that had taken over their house.

As they got ready in the bathroom, Dream couldn’t help but fixate on all of these being lasts together. Their last time brushing their teeth side by side as an unmarried couple. The last time he got to watch George fiddling with his hair before swooping in to run his hands through it as fiancés. The last time he would ever let George rub his moisturizer into his skin with gentle hands, because the next time he did this he’d be able to call him husband . 

In their closet, they agree to pick out clothes for each other. George picks out a deep blue button up that Dream hardly ever wears, but he still gives in. For George, he chooses one of his plain, designer black button ups, knowing he loves how he looks in it. They both wear them with just jeans and sneakers, choosing to keep things simple and look only slightly more put together than they would on any other day. It feels fitting to all that they are–there’s no need for some big changes to be made for this day, even though they’re getting married.

Their appointment is at 1, just like the one for the license had been. Around noon, Sapnap meets them in the kitchen, equally as calm as they are. He’s dressed similarly to both of them, and Dream can’t help but smile fondly at the plain black hat that adorns his head. Even in trying to dress slightly nicer than his typical outfit of basketball shorts and a hoodie, he’ll never be seen without a hat. 

The only sounds that fill the air are the low hum of the refrigerator, and Patches’ quiet meow s when she tries for their attention. She gets louder as Dream gets out a treat for her, feeling like she deserves it for such a special day. At the noise of the bag opening, Naomi and Milo come running, and he offers them both treats, too.

When he starts towards the door, grabbing his keys off of the hook beside it, George and Sapnap follow silently behind him. Sapnap doesn’t even argue with George for the passenger seat like he normally would. Instead, he approaches the door of the backseat without complaint, and when Dream looks at him through the rearview mirror he sees that he’s focused on something on his phone.

It’s George who finally breaks the silence once they begin to pull out of the driveway, putting on an exaggerated voice. “This is, like, crazy , guys. We’re going to the DNF wedding.”

Dream lets out a choked laugh, surprised. Behind them, he hears Sapnap chuckling under his breath.

“You’re an idiot, George.” Sapnap replies, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Sapnap’s hand reaching to swat at George over the center console.

“You have to be nice to me, Sapnap. We’re going to my wedding, freak.” His voice is incredibly fond, oozing with softness. Dream can’t help but melt with it, worried that he’ll become nothing but a puddle of himself and unable to drive the car.

Instead of responding, Sapnap only groans loudly, and Dream watches in the rearview mirror as he sinks back into his seat. 

The rest of the car ride is mostly quiet, other than the occasional bickering between George and Sapnap. Dream can’t seem to find any words, his anxiety increasing as he watches the distance to the courthouse get lower and lower on the GPS the closer they get. 

He remembers reading once that the human brain can’t differentiate between the feeling of anxiety and excitement. He thinks it might be true in this moment, because surely he isn’t this anxious over marrying George.

When he finally parks down the street from the courthouse, he takes a moment to just sit there and stare blankly out of the windshield. He can feel George’s eyes boring into the side of his head from beside him, and knows they need to get a move on. 

“Alright, bitches. Time to go get fucking married. ” 

It shocks a laugh out of Dream, and he feels warm when Sapnap leans forward to squeeze in between them, throwing his arms over their shoulders and jostling them. It finally gives Dream the courage to want to step out of the car, and face this head on.

They walk down the street with a tangible energy buzzing in the air. When they enter the courthouse, they go through the same familiar motions they did last time. Then they’re settled in a waiting room, and before long they’re being called before the judge to get married.

The judge is an older man, and he looks almost bored and disinterested. Dream is sure it must get boring marrying people all day long. Regardless, even the judge’s disinterest can’t dampen how happy Dream is. 

Sapnap stands behind them with a random employee they’d called in when they needed a second witness for the ceremony. All Dream can focus on is how George looks in front of him, his chain pulled out of his shirt and a warm flush gracing his cheeks. 

In return, George is giving back just the same. His eyes keep raking up and down Dream’s body before making eye contact and grinning sweetly at him. He hopes neither of them mess up repeating the generic vows the judge is reciting, because he’s running on autopilot.

Before he knows it, though, words he didn’t know he’d ever hear ring through the air.

“In as much as George and Clay have consented together in wedlock and have witnessed the same before this company and pledged their vows to each other, by the authority vested in me by the state of Florida, I now pronounce you husband and husband.”

They don’t kiss–it’s a line they never cross in public, something they both had agreed upon disliking early on in their relationship. But they do embrace, holding each other tightly and swaying from side to side. When he finally pulls away, looking down at George, he finds that he looks on the verge of tears. 

“Oh, baby.” He murmurs, reaching a hand up to cradle the side of George’s face.

With it, the tears begin to slip from George’s eyes. He pulls him back in, shielding his face from the bystanders around them. Sapnap stands awkwardly behind George, and Dream figures he won’t mention the fact that he can tell Sapnap has also been crying.

When he notices Dream looking at him, he gestures to the door. Dream gives a thanks to the judge, and they finally leave the room. He keeps an arm around George, guiding him into the elevator and then out the front door of the courthouse. When they finally are on the sidewalk in front of the building, he turns to face George, smiling softly at him. His tears seem to have stopped, but his eyes are still red-rimmed and his face is flushed.

“Hi, Georgie.” Dream cups his jaw in his palms, swiping his thumbs gently over the slowly drying tear tracks.

George only huffs in response, leaning slightly into the touch as he blinks up at him. Then, he’s getting up on his tiptoes to press a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of Dream’s mouth.

“Thank you.” He mumbles once he’s flat on his feet again, reaching a hand out to intertwine with Dream’s.

They walk to the car like that, with their hands linked together and Sapnap trailing behind them. It’s the first time they’ve ever held hands in public, and Dream thinks he wants to do it forever.

*

When they’re passing a Walmart on the way home, Sapnap speaks from the backseat.

“Can we stop, Dream? I wanna grab some shit for the house.”

Dream agrees easily, pulling into the parking lot. He thinks nothing of it when he drops Sapnap off at the door, before finding a spot near the back of the lot and texting Sapnap to tell them when he’s coming out.

As soon as he’s parked, George is unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over the center console. Then, he’s grabbing Dream by the back of the neck and tugging him into a deep kiss, slipping his tongue inside his mouth when it opens on a surprised gasp.

Dream lets him kiss him, trying his best to reciprocate. He keeps his jaw slack to allow George to lick inside his mouth, tracing the tip of his tongue over Dream’s molars and incisors as if he’s trying to memorize their shapes. 

He isn’t sure how long they stay like that, but he eventually pulls back to breathe. In front of him, George looks disheveled, and he reaches out to flatten out his hair with his hand.

“Hello to you, too.” Dream huffs, his voice low.

“Shut up.” George mumbles, embarrassed and pressing his hands to his cheeks. 

Before they can talk any further, Sapnap is texting that he’s ready, and Dream circles back to the door to pick him up. When he climbs back in the car, he notices that he doesn’t have any grocery bags. Instead, he’s holding… a cake.

“Were you hungry?” Dream questions, slowly making his way to the exit of the lot.

“It’s not for me.” For some reason, he sounds embarrassed. Dream isn’t sure why until he reaches over the center console, passing the cake to George. “Here, for you guys or whatever. Happy wedding, people have cakes for that, right? That’s all they had, so.”

When Dream glances over, he sees a monstrosity of a green and blue pre-packaged cake, one of the ones he remembers his parents buying for his birthday parties when he was a kid. Written across the top in neat cursive is the words Happy Birthday . 

As ridiculous as it is, Dream thinks he might cry at how sweet the gesture is. When he glances at George, he knows he would never admit it, but he’s pretty sure there are tears welling in his eyes all over again, too. 

He knows his voice is thick with sincerity when he speaks. “Thank you, Nick.”

He watches in the rearview mirror as Sapnap only shrugs in response. Then, he speaks.

“Anyways, I’m fucking starving, dude. Are we gonna pick up food or what?”

With that, they spend the rest of their drive bickering over where to get dinner from, finally settling on sushi after George argues that it’s my wedding day, I get to pick what we eat.

*

Dream isn’t sure he’s ever been happier than he is in this moment.

He always thought the happiest day of his life was hitting a million subscribers on YouTube. Then, it was meeting George and finally getting to go outside for the first time in years.

Somehow, none of that even rivals this: him, George, and Sapnap, all settled in together at their kitchen island with sushi takeout containers on the counter in front of them. George has his ankle wrapped around his, and has their chairs so close they’re almost touching even as he bickers with Sapnap over what food is whose. 

The cats circle their feet on the floor, surely smelling the fish in their dinner. He’s playing music quietly from the speaker in the corner of the room, and the stupid pseudo-wedding cake sits in the center of the island in front of them, the lid still covering it. 

He passes the meal in content silence, only speaking when George or Sapnap drag him into the conversation. He’s happy getting to just exist like this with them, and with getting to watch the glint of the ring on George’s thumb under the overhead lighting. It’s tangible proof that so much has changed, even if the three of them are the same as they always are.

When they’re done eating, he feels full in a good way instead of a sick way. It’s Sapnap who suggests cutting the cake.

“Can I, like, give a best man speech then cut the cake? This is kinda like your reception if you think about it.” He’s shy as he says it, fiddling with his phone with his elbows resting on the counter.

Dream laughs. “Yeah, sure, Nick. Go for it.”

Even George doesn’t make fun of him. “Knock our socks off.”

Dramatically, Sapnap stands, circling to the other side of the island. He opens one of the drawers and grabs a whisk, holding it up to his mouth like a microphone. It pulls a laugh out of George and Dream, and they lean into each other with their giggles.

“Clay,” Sapnap begins, looking between them. “George. Congrats on getting married, I guess. I’m still pissed off you didn’t tell me, but. It’s fine, and I guess I’m happy for you, or whatever.”

With it, George leans more firmly into his side, and he wraps an arm around him as they keep listening to Sapnap in silence.

“Time for some mushy shit, so get ready. You especially, George,” Sapnap rocks back and forth on his heels slowly, breathing out a deep sigh. “I kind of knew this would happen eventually, so I really am happy for you. You’re both like brothers to me, except you’re not, like, each other’s brothers. Whatever, you get it, I’m not saying you guys are incest fucking or something.”

Dream laughs even harder, gripping George with his laughter. George isn’t faring much better, and has turned his face into Dream’s shoulder with his giggles.

“Anyways, you guys are my best friends in the world, and I know you won’t fuck this up. So happy marriage, or congratulations, I dunno how people say it. I love you guys.”

All Dream wants to do is hug him. So, silently, he gestures for Sapnap to come over to them, and when he’s within a few feet of them he tugs him by the arm into their embrace. It’s awkward, and he’s sure his elbow has to be digging into Sapnap’s stomach with their positioning since he and George are still seated while Sapnap stands. It doesn’t matter, though, because they all settle into it, even George clinging to both Sapnap and Dream without any protest.

When Sapnap finally pulls away, he grabs the cake, popping off the plastic lid and wielding a knife in the air. “Time to cut this bad boy.”

Dream winces as he watches him cut the cake. The slices are uneven, and he knows nobody is going to eat pieces as big as he’s cutting them. Still, though, he only thanks him as he passes him and George a giant piece of the cake on a paper plate, the top of it emblazoned with Hap from the cake’s lettering and two forks sticking out of it.

Dream has already decided he doesn’t really want any of the cake–he isn’t a huge fan of dessert to begin with, and cheap store-bought cake isn’t anything to write home about. But when he looks up at George and finds him holding a bite of it out to Dream’s mouth, trying to feed him, he can’t help but melt and open his mouth wide for George to put it inside.

As he chews it, not a huge fan of the overly sweet taste of it, he watches the small grin on George’s face. The only thing he wants to do is keep it there permanently. So, he grabs the other fork and puts a piece of the cake on it before holding it in front of George’s mouth. Without hesitation, George eats it, smiling widely at Dream with his teeth covered in blue frosting. 

He should be grossed out by it. Today, though, he finds it endearing.

*

They’re finally alone for the first time since this morning in their bed later that night. 

George is pressed flush against his side, his head resting in the crook of Dream’s arm. They had been watching Tiktoks together on Dream’s phone, but eventually he shut it off so they could lay in the dark in content silence, basking in the newness of the day.

“Dream.” George suddenly breaks the silence, rolling over so he’s laying on top of Dream with their chests pressed together.

He smiles helplessly down at George, reaching a hand out to link under the chain at the base of his neck, fiddling with it. George squirms at the touch, blowing a raspberry into the side of Dream’s neck in retaliation.

When they settle, they just stare at each other with soft smiles. Their position is a familiar one–this is somewhere they find themselves often, holding each other just because they finally can.

This time, though, they’re married.

Dream is convinced the novelty of it will never wear off. He hopes he’ll wake up everyday for the rest of his life astonished that he’s married to George. That even when the sound of small feet and giggles fill their house or their hair starts to gray and their skin starts to wrinkle, he still feels like he married George just yesterday. 

It’s George speaking that knocks him from his thoughts, tracing a hand across the pattern of Dream’s shirt. 

“Hi, husband .” 

It hangs heavy in the dark of their room. Then, Dream promptly bursts into tears.

He absolutely hates crying in front of George, but he can’t help it. The tears come on unexpectedly, as if the weight of the day finally hit him with George calling him his husband. He can’t seem to stop them, either, even as George crowds in close to him and cradles his face in his hands, soothing Dream with soft murmurs of hey, it’s okay, Dreamie as he wipes the tears from his cheeks as they’re still falling. 

When he finally gathers himself back together, his breath still shakes. “Sorry, I don’t know why I did that.”

“ Dream ,” George scolds, pinching his cheeks with a soft smile. “Don’t apologize, what the hell?”

He almost instinctively mutters sorry in response, but stops himself at the last second. Instead, he only pulls George even further into his chest, wishing he could pull him straight into his chest cavity so they could live together as one being. For now, he settles for the feeling of their heartbeats pressed together, hoping they’re somehow in sync. 

They lay there, Dream holding George close and George with a hand settled in Dream’s curls, rubbing at his scalp and gently detangling any knots he finds with his fingers. Eventually, he sits up, smiling goofily at Dream.

“Are we gonna consummate our marriage, Dream?”

And it’s so ridiculous that Dream only swats at him, before giving in to the idea and tugging George down into a heated kiss.

*

Being married doesn’t change much between them.

Their routine remains the same as it always has, and their schedules don’t change all that much. What should be this huge life changing thing doesn’t really matter when they had spent years living like a married couple, anyway. 

Dream still posts videos. George still begs him to edit his. They still avoid streaming together, and they laugh at all the fan theories they see on Twitter about the ring George wears on his thumb.

Months pass, and they quietly celebrate with each other each time they reach a new milestone of marriage. Happy 2 months, Dream, George would whisper in his ear while passing by him in the kitchen, placing a hand on his hip and gently squeezing.

It’s the happiest he’s ever been in his life. It’s getting to exist in a constant state of contentment, and a permanent promise that he and George are for sure. There’s no going back from marriage, not without a ton of work–this is it for them. It’s getting to live everyday for the rest of their lives undeniably together. 

What isn’t normal, though, is their power going out a few months into their marriage as hurricane season settled upon them.

Dream doesn’t remember the last time it was this bad. Everything is okay, but the city isn’t sure when the power will be back on. The first day is humid and miserable, with he and George agreeing to sleep in separate beds after waking up with their skin stuck together uncomfortably with sweat.

He misses him when he sleeps, but knows it’s for the better until they have air conditioning again. They even keep space between them on the couch, the heat in the air much too thick to stomach being pressed together.

Nearing the end of day two, Dream is resigned to the fact that he’s going to have to throw away all the food in their freezer. When he brings it up to George, though, he panics.

“How long does it stay good for?” For some reason unknown to Dream, his voice is full of anxiety. “You said 48 hours, right?”

“Yeah, George,” he reaches a hand out to George timidly, pressing fingers against his bare thigh in what he hopes is a soothing gesture. “And I doubt the power’s gonna come back on, so it’s gonna be bad within like 2 hours.”

He can only watch in confusion as George jumps up from the couch, approaching the fridge in a hurry and pulling open the freezer door. He digs through it in a hurry, before finally pulling out what looks like a ziploc bag with frost concealing what’s inside.

“I was saving this for the one year,” George’s voice is sad, and he’s staring down at the object in his hands with the freezer door still open behind him. “This is so dumb , Dream.”

Dream is most confused by the way his eyes are shiny with tears when he looks up at him. He finally rises from the couch, crossing the room and approaching George slowly.

“What are you talking about, George?”

Instead of responding, he opens the bag, and pulls out a paper plate that’s inside. Dream isn’t quite sure what he’s looking at, even with it outside of the bag. It’s a green and blue blob of something , and definitely has a layer of frost on it from the freezer.

“It’s our wedding cake, ” George begins, clearly distraught. “I saved a piece of it because–it’s gonna sound dumb, so you can’t laugh, okay?” Dream hums in agreement and George goes on. “I saw a Tiktok of this girl eating her wedding cake on her anniversary, and I thought it was kind of epic. So, like, I saved some of the cake Sapnap bought us.”

He lets the words hang in the air between them, heavy warmth settling low in his stomach. Then, he pulls George in close for a hug, the gross humidity and sweat between them be damned.

“I love you so fucking much, George.” He breathes out into his hair, the sound of it muffled.

In a rare moment of earnestness, George replies. “I love you, too.”

He pulls away, settling his hands on George’s shoulders and looking at him with an uncontrollable grin. “So are we gonna eat this cake, or what?”

George rolls his eyes. “It’s not been a year, but I guess we can.”

So they settle in at the island together, putting the cake between them and grabbing forks from the silverware drawer. 

“We need to feed it to each other. It’s cute, Dream, we can farm awws.” George says as he picks up a bite of the cake, holding it up to Dream’s mouth. 

Dream does the same in return, holding a fork up to George’s mouth. They count down from 3 in tandem, and then feed each other the piece of cake in sync. 

The sound of their quiet chewing fills the room. Within moments, though, Dream spits the cake out into his hand, loudly heaving to get the taste of it out of his mouth. When he looks up at George, his face is scrunched up, but he’s still soldiering through the bite.

Wordlessly, he holds his hand out. Almost immediately, George spits the cake out into his palm, gagging loudly as he grabs a napkin and begins wiping his tongue. 

Dream thinks he might vomit at the sight of the chewed up food in his hands, so he quickly dumps it in the trash before scrubbing vigorously at his hands beneath the tap. Next, he fills two glasses with water, chugging one and passing the other to George to get the taste out of their mouths.

George is the first to speak after it’s all over. “Okay, so maybe Walmart cake doesn’t freeze well.”

“Do you think?” Dream giggles, digging his head into his hands.

Silence settles in the air between them. Then, George quietly circles around the island, wrapping arms around Dream’s waist and pressing into his side.

“Happy 5 months and 13 days of being married, Dream.” With the words, he presses a soft kiss to Dream’s cheek.

All Dream can think about, tugging George into a real kiss even with the gross taste of spoiled cake still lingering on both of their lips, is hoping they get to keep counting the days they’ve been together for the rest of their lives.