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The first and, consequently, the second time someone came out to Dream was in the middle of a Teamspeak call.
He's 17 years old running around MunchyMC, listening gleefully as George goes off on Bad for whatever went wrong on the server this time. He's come to realize this as his new routine: wake up, work on his online classes (that he's already nearly finished), join a Teamspeak call with his co-workers on Munchy, melt his brain with code that George eventually takes over, sleep, repeat. He can't complain, especially when he wheezes down his shitty microphone as George makes a frustrated sound in aghast.
“Bad! What is- what is wrong with you? You're not listening, okay?” George scolds through Dream's headphones. “The shields are, like, glitched. When I was-”
“Maybe- Maybe you’re just bad,” Dream interrupts, struggling to get it out through his laughter.
“Fuck you! No, it's the stupid code that someone fucked up.”
“Language, George!” Bad shouts back. “George it's fine, you didn't even-”
“I'm dating Red.” Antfrost blurts out, and suddenly the call is the quietest it had been all night. Dream's mind goes blank all at once. Oh. Dream can't even tell what he should focus on first and before he knows it it has been a little too long since anyone said anything. Ant pauses. “I mean- is that- like-”
“Oh my gosh! Ant!” Bad cheers, he doesn't even miss a blink. It's almost like he wasn't all that surprised, Dream makes a mental note to ask him about it. Or should he? Why does he feel so- so clumsy during all of this? “That's amazing! Oh, I'm so happy for you guys!”
“You're gay?” Dream, very dumbly, blurts out. He regrets it immediately. “I mean- no! Not like that's, like- bad, no. I mean, like-” He's struggling, how has it taken him 17 years to have a real gay friend before? He doesn't even know how he's supposed to respond, but he definitely doesn't want to do it wrong. Is there even a wrong way to do this? How the hell is he supposed to know? “That's- That's so cool, Ant. Really.”
Thankfully, Ant takes it all in earnest and laughs loudly. “It's okay, Dream. Thank you. I… really appreciate it.” And he sounds like he means it and Dream feels his muscles relax. His heart blooms in pride for his friend he didn't think he would have in a situation like this. He's very admirable.
Outwardly, Dream chuckles awkwardly to fill in the silence. “Yeah, that's, um- wait.” His brain now finally caught up with everything Ant said. “Did you say Red? Like, our Red? RedVelvet?” Velvet was the new admin they had literally just hired for Munchy, how the hell? “You guys have known each other for, like, a month. What the heck?”
“It’s been, like a year, not a month,” Ant says, clearly flustered. It's kind of funny, he wants to remind himself of this moment for the future to make fun of him for it. “I just like him a lot, I don't know.”
“Well… good, I'm glad.”
Their easy conversation continued like nothing had happened. The world didn't end, his friends didn't change, and most importantly the prison server was working again. However, Dream couldn't help but notice George's silence during it all. They'd been talking way more frequently lately, always on calls and playing Minecraft for hours. So it's hard to not notice his absence these days.
Surely George wasn't, like, homophobic or anything. He thinks he would have noticed that. But he also didn't notice that one of his friends was gay–he later learned that he had only ever told Bad before so he tried not to feel too upset about it. Did George really have a problem with it? Maybe it just wasn't something he was used to. After all, Dream didn't really know any gay people until then either. But George was older and in college, wouldn't he know more than him?
He tried not to think about it too hard. How the hell would he even ask George about that, anyway?
He's being weird. He needs to stop being weird.
“George?” He can't seem to keep his stupid mouth shut today. He shifts against his bedsheets. “What d'you think? About- About Ant and, uh, Velvet?”
Thankfully, or maybe not thankfully, it's just them alone in the call right now. It's approaching 1 am–what time is it for George? He can't do the mental math right now, he's too tired.
George lets out a quiet scoff across the ocean, “what? I dunno, am I supposed to feel something about it?”
“Well- you just, I don't know. You didn't really say anything earlier.”
“I mean, what am I supposed to say? Not really my business, I don't care who's dating who.”
Oh, that actually made more sense. Honestly, he supposes he didn't really need to express any opinion on someone else's relationship. It was just so new to him, that he couldn't help his fixation on this revelation.
“Yeah, I guess you're right,” he decides to say.
The call is quiet again. Dream hears George's soft breathing and he tries to picture what he looks like in this moment. On the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, a 19-year-old boy is talking to his friend he recently made online. Is he supposed to be getting ready for classes soon? Is he late on homework? Dream doesn't know. But he's on a seven-hour-long Teamspeak call with him, long after their other friends had said their goodbyes. George is weird, but Dream is here too so he guesses they're weird together now.
“Did-” George starts, but he doesn't finish his thought. They lay in silence, and Dream tries his best not to overanalyze the sound of his voice, his brain too tired to do any more thinking than it has today.
“What?” He pushes like always.
“Nothing, it's stupid.”
“You're stupid, tell me.”
“No.”
“George.”
“Dream.”
He realizes that George is actually very, very weird. He can't really make him out in his mind; what are you thinking? What are you doing today? Do you think we'll get even closer? Stay friends for years? Are we going to meet someday? He doesn't know anything that goes on inside George's brain and he doesn't know why he has such a painful itch to live in his mind. But for now, he yawns and turns over in his bed. He’ll ask him again in the morning when his brain isn't so sluggish.
At some point, Dream falls asleep and he wakes up to the disconnected call. He barely remembers anything that happened last night, and he groans as his brain slowly starts functioning again. Fuck, he has to code more today.
–
A couple of years later, Dream would be listening to Antfrost and Velvet talk to each other on Teamspeak and his heart would feel so full he has to let them know he thinks this is it. He thinks they are forever for each other and he can't imagine them with anyone else, how perfect they are together and he's so fucking happy for them. He's so happy they were able to find their person and he's sure they are going to get married one day.
A year later, Ant would tell him how much that meant to him while packing his things for their new home together.
–
Dream is 19 and he's quit his job at Apple because he is so sure that he's cracked the code to YouTube's algorithm. He's spent long nights for the past 3 months studying the analytics and what works for other YouTubers, he is so sure that he agrees to make a reckless bet with his parents.
He guesses he must have had the same feeling of confidence wafting off of him because when he asks George to come with him, saying he knows they are going to blow up, George barely hesitates. George trusts him with his career, hands him everything with faith that Dream will take care of him and Dream promises himself to do that and more. George quits his freelancing job and they find themselves on a call with his other best friend Pandas, detailing their new personas and future videos and his chest swells at how the two hang on to his every word.
He promises them that this is going to be huge, they are going to change the YouTube space. He's young and he's reckless but he's so excited and only more motivated with all of the love and support his best friends give him.
Within the first couple of months, he hits 1 million subscribers. It's all he's ever wanted and more.
–
Dream doesn't know how the fuck he got into this situation or what it even was. It was literally just a curiosity, something he happened to take note of when he watched George's new extra scenes video. Also, he had been desperately trying to keep George's insane viewer retention and it would have been funny.
Now the stream is over and Dream is 21 years old, sitting on a discord call with a sleepy George scrolling through Twitter and pausing every time he sees a picture of George and his stupid wet hair. Dream closes Twitter and instead opens Amazon, not caring how embarrassing it all is when he searches for hair gel.
“Dr'm”, George murmurs, pissed off, and Dream realizes he had probably been trying to get his attention.
Dream mindlessly scrolls through the different kinds of hair gel – seriously, why are there so many? Aren't they the same? He remembers, again, that he has to respond to George before he complains more. “What? I thought you were going to sleep, idiot.”
“I am,” Dream hears the all too familiar of George moving around in his sheets. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”
That makes Dream stop scrolling. He takes in a breath, laughing softly and awkwardly.
“Oh- yeah?”
George yawns, Dream's heart squeezes tightly like it has been lately. He doesn't think to question it though.
“Yeah, you- you were so weird on stream today.”
Dream anxiously picks his phone back up, and even though George can't see him he self-consciously erases his hair gel search and instead opens his emails. “How was I weird?”
“Dunno, you just- you wanted me to, like, get my hair wet-”
“To be fair, you were the one who suggested that-”
“And then, like, freaked out about it.”
“I didn't freak out, oh my god,” Dream's face is burning and he has never been more grateful that George can't see him. His chest is tight, blood drained to his head and his stupid foot is bouncing under his desk. His brain is running rampant, and the biggest problem is he agrees with George. It was weird. He was weird.
“Mm, but I liked it.”
Dream pauses, looking up at his monitor despite knowing all he will see is George's discord profile staring back at him. Somehow the colorful painting still feels judgemental. He waits for George to say something else, make fun of him more, or change the subject, but he doesn't.
Dream clears his throat, “you did?”
He hears George sleepily giggle across the line, Dream briefly wonders when the last time George slept was and makes a mental note to make sure he's sleeping more. “Yeah, you're such a simp ‘s funny.”
Dream can't help the pout on his lips, so embarrassed as he slowly recounts everything he said and did in front of more than 200,000 people and he still can't explain it to anyone, let alone himself. “M, not a simp,” is all he can say to defend himself.
George giggles again before sighing sleepily. “You're so…”
He doesn't finish again, but Dream can tell he's fallen asleep. He wants George to tell him what he is going to say and share every thought he has about him. It's the same ugly itch he's always had, but now he feels like it's swallowing his entire being and he just doesn't get it. He frantically runs his fingers through his way-too-long hair, ruffling it like he's some kind of dog, trying to release all of the weird from his body.
It doesn't work. Instead, he's left with his crazy hair going all over the place and the same queasy feeling. He picks his phone back up, opening Twitter once more and groaning when he's immediately met with the damned pictures of George. He nonsensically clicked on one and couldn't fight himself from zooming in, basking in how- well, hot he looked. His hair, slightly damp and messed up from his fingers, looked way more attractive than when Dream did it to his own hair just now. His jawline is more prevalent than normal and Dream can't help but wonder what it would feel like to hold it. The scruff of his barely-there stubble, the depths of his dark eyes and long eyelashes.
Dream looks back at George's hair, and some fucked up intrusive thought of his wonders if this is what he would look like fresh out of a shower, towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping down his chest to the V of his torso. Or what about laying in bed, head thrown back and sweating from-
Dream groans, closing his phone and knocking his head back against his gaming chair. He hears George start snoring and a deep, vile feeling of guilt gnaws at Dream from the inside. What the fuck is wrong with him?
“Night, George,” he mumbles quietly before finally leaving the call, too ashamed to stay any longer knowing what he was just thinking. Why the fuck was he even thinking that?
He rubs his cheeks with his hands, squeezing almost painfully to shut his stupid brain up. It's fine. Everything is fine.
He is somehow able to convince himself it's completely normal under the scalding heat of his shower, melting away all of his guilt down the drain.
–
“You are a little in love with your best friend,” Dream reads out the stupid test results from his monitor. He’s laughing, he can’t even believe this is his life. What is he even doing? He hears George laugh too, and he decides to ignore that it doesn’t sound like his normal, perfect laughter. He reads out the description of his supposed feelings, exaggerating his tone and voice trying to stop himself from laughing again.
Much like most things, Dream doesn't know what compelled him to do this. It was kind of embarrassing, reading the questions out loud to thousands of people and having to answer, with George right there. But the hilarity of it outbeat any shame he could have felt. It was really funny. Objectively.
“You wouldn't wanna ruin it, Dream,” George murmurs, repeating the words of the stupid quiz results. But he sounds off, his voice deep and almost slurred, and it makes Dream pause. He can't ask him about it – well, definitely not now. And besides, he's probably reading into things because what would there even be to ask about? Maybe he made George uncomfortable, but that doesn't seem likely, it's hard for him to even feel uncomfortable like that.
He decides to change the topic, looking for any other quiz he could take.
He ends up leaving the Discord podcast without taking any other quiz, barely announcing his leave and exiting the call before George can even say something.
He flops himself down onto the bed, groaning loudly into his pillow like he's some teenager again. His phone lights up with an incoming call from George, and that stupid, familiar feeling of guilt rushes up and forces him to immediately reject the call - when was the last time he did that? He quickly goes to their texts, writing out a simple sorry want 2 sleep rn and he ignores George's automatic reply asking if they could sleep call. He just can't bring himself to do it right now and he can't explain why, not to George or himself.
George's words pound in his skull as he forces himself to sleep. He grips his blankets, curling into a fetal position.
You wouldn't want to ruin it, Dream.
–
Dream is 22 and he thinks the world might be ending.
That's an exaggeration, he tells himself despite the pounding in his skull and the ache in his thumb as he scrolls and scrolls and scrolls. He needs to stop. There's nobody forcing him to look at this, but it's like he can't help himself. Even after his call with Bad, which Dream isn't sure what he would be doing without his friend's comforting words, he can't bring himself to end his spiraling misery.
It doesn't stop.
He doesn't even understand what he did wrong this time but it's never been as bad as this. Tweet after tweet, post after post, what is he supposed to do? Fuck, all he did was mention he might have some attraction to men. A deep, gruesome pit in his stomach settles, twisting his guts and he has the faint need to vomit.
But for the first time in hours, his phone screen is taken away from the godforsaken app and instead, he sees that George is calling him.
George is calling him.
Fuck, he doesn't want to talk to George. Not now. Not like this. But the thought of ignoring him is somehow worse, it might be an emergency or maybe George would get upset for being ignored. Who knows. He tentatively reaches to answer him, only to be met with silence. Dream briefly doubts that he was able to answer in time, but no, it says active call.
He clears his sore throat, “George?”
“Hi,” George's voice comes softly and Dream nearly bursts into tears all over again. He settles deeper into his pillow.
“Hi,” his heart turning soft and gooey the way it has been recently for the boy across the ocean. “Hi.”
They stay in silence again, though there's not a hint of awkwardness anymore. Just them. Just Dream and George.
“Did- Did you need anything?” Dream asks, running his fingers through his hair. George makes an annoyed sound.
“What? Can't I just call you?”
Dream shrugs, though he knows George can't see it. “You can.”
“Well, thanks for the permission.”
“You're welcome.” It's meant to be sarcastic and play along with their usual banter but it comes out nauseatingly sincere. George clears his throat.
“You should- You should go hang out with Sapnap. Or something.”
That's probably the last thing Dream ever expected to hear from him.
“What?”
“I mean- like, get you to do something. Since you… can't, like, leave. You could talk to Sapnap. Watch some football, or whatever you do.”
Oh. Now Dream understands what he called him for, why George's voice is quiet and unsure, so unlike him. His chest squeezes painfully and Dream has to shut his eyes tightly as he grips his bed sheets.
“It was just a suggestion, I don't know,” George adds defensively when he is met with silence. Dream laughs lightly. George is funny. He's always so funny.
“What if I want to talk to you instead? Would that be okay?” He asks, heart tender and ready to shatter into a million pieces at any given moment. He hears George take in a sudden breath of air and he feels proud of himself. He caught George off-guard.
“Yeah- yeah, that's… that's okay. If, um, you think it would… help.” George mumbles, soft and sweet and Dream's heart squeezes in fondness. He rarely gets to see George like this, but he loves it. Loves when he's vulnerable and gooey, and his favorite part is George isn't like this with anyone but him. He's the only person who really gets George like this.
Dream chuckles, “Thanks for the permission.” He hears George scoff and he can't fight the small smile that tugs at his lips.
“Shut up.”
“This does help, by the way.” He says, voice quiet but sickeningly earnest, just to make sure George knows. He needs him to know how important this is to him. How sweet and caring he is, that Dream loves and appreciates all that he does. “So, thank you, George. It means a lot.”
There's a pause on the line before George lets out a soft, fond breath of a laugh.
“You're an idiot.” And Dream laughs himself, bright and loud and it's the best he's felt all day. Maybe ever, because George knew he was hurting and he wanted to help him any way he could, even if he thought he couldn't. Even when he was convinced that Dream would be better off hanging out with Sapnap, as if hearing his voice couldn't instantly make Dream feel better, like some kind of weird Pavlovian response. “What d'you wanna talk about?” George asks, Dream's heart floating. He shrugs again.
“Don't know, just wanna hear your voice.” It's something they've been saying a lot to each other over the last year, the comfort and familiarity of the other's voice being the only thing keeping either of them sane while they waited for the damn visa to be approved.
Dream forces himself to stop thinking about the visa, there's already too much bullshit clouding his mind right now.
George hums in thought. He pauses. Dream is instantly zeroed into every breath he makes. “Um- did I ever tell you about, uh, this one guy?”
Dream sits up in bed, grabbing his phone to pay closer attention. A guy? What guy? Why hasn't Dream heard about it until now? What else doesn't he know? “No,” he says casually, picking at his nails because that's how little he cares about this guy George never mentioned until now.
“Well, he, like- or, we-” George stutters. He takes a deep breath down the line, “Actually, never mind, it's stupid.”
“What? No, George, come on. Tell me. Don't be annoying right now.” He doesn't want George to run away. He never wants George to feel like he can't tell him something. He thinks he's dying all over again.
George is so silent from the call that Dream is about to yell at him again for not saying anything. “Uh- he was, like, my first, like, crush I guess. If you could even call it that. It was, like, Year 6 or something stupid.”
Dream's fingers feel numb when he grips his phone and his heart is in his throat, he's half convinced if he threw up it would follow. George had a crush - okay, well, obviously he's had a crush before - George had a crush on a guy. Why didn't Dream know about this? What made George keep it a secret? He wants to slap himself, he's not being fair but he can't help the obnoxious voice in his head.
Dream tries to fix his suddenly dry throat. “Oh.”
George lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, and, um. On his 12th birthday, he had this, like, party and he invited the whole class. And…” Dream hears George thud into his pillow in embarrassment, “Ugh, this is stupid.”
“No, no, tell me,” Dream insists despite wanting to never hear this story again.
“Okay. Fine. Okay.” He pauses again. “We were at the party and we were alone together. I guess- I don't really know what I was thinking. I was, like, 12, or something so probably not much. I just…” And George is quiet again. Dream wants to push him, make him spill his every thought and story and his entire life to him.
“I guess I told him about my crush and, um, he didn't take it well? I can't really remember it all.” George's voice is so small and unsure that Dream has never hated their distance more in his life. His heart aches painfully as he thinks about a little George, so young and excited, sharing his feelings to a boy and getting hurt.
Dream hopes that kid is living a miserable life now.
“Basically he just, like, yelled at me, and then he told everyone at the party and his mum forced me out. I had to- to walk back home even though it was raining and dark out.”
Dream squeezes his eyes to cope with the pain in his chest. “I'm so sorry George.”
“I've never told anyone about that, Dream,” George hushes. “Didn't tell my mum why I was home early. Didn't tell my teachers why I missed the next couple of days of school. You're the only one. So…” George takes another breath. “So I, um, hope you know that… this shit doesn’t last. This shitty feeling goes, and we keep living. Okay?”
Dream thinks there is no one braver in the world than George- or nobody as kind and empathetic as him. He's half convinced he's not even real, after all, he's never even seen him in person. George is a very private person, some may say closed-off but Dream knows better. He loves and is equally terrified of the unconditional trust he has in him.
Dream soaks it all in. He can feel the scared and embarrassed little kid in him growing into the slightly more functional adult he is today. He imagines George is doing the same. He breathes out.
“Thank you,” Dream feels like one second away from crying again. “I- you know I love you, right?” His heart aches all over again and he needs George to know. To know how loved and appreciated he is because Dream doesn't think he's felt this endeared so much by a person in his life.
Dream hears the familiar sound of George scoffing and he can't fight back a watery laugh of his own. “Obviously.”
“Good. I just- I just needed you to know that, okay? And- And you deserved to not have your heart broken.”
“... My heart wasn't broken, Dream. I was 12. I barely even remember his name.” George says, his voice careful.
“But it felt like it. And it hurt.”
George sighs softly across the line. “Yeah, sure. But it got better.” He chuckles, “I mean, I'm here talking to you, but besides that.”
“You're an idiot,” Dream says with no real malice. He can't when his heart aches in every single way. “I wish you were here.” He wants to see his face, wants to know how red his cheeks can get. He wants to know if he'd play with his fingers or clothes; if he would look him in the eyes or look anywhere else.
But life is cruel, and all he ever gets from George is a simple “Me too.”
–
His life flashes by in what feels like a blink and a century at the same time, but suddenly he's 23 and he's walking to George in person for the first time. The Florida sun was made for George, who is nervously pressing his hands to his cheeks. Dream doesn't think he has seen anyone as beautiful as him before, something he knew already but now he's here and he's smiling so bright Dream is convinced it has to be the sun reflecting off of them.
George seems to be having a similar problem as he shields his eyes, “You're like a god with the sun behind you!” He says as they walk towards each other in the driveway of George's - their - new home forever. He opens his arms wide and they meet for their first ever hug and nothing has ever felt more right in his life.
He notices Sapnap behind the camera, smiling at them through the lens and Dream feels such an intense surge of pride. Fuck, he loves his friends so fucking much. “Get in here!” He yells at him, Sapnap laughing and agreeing as he leans in for their first group hug. It's only his second time hugging George but he thinks he might be addicted now.
They wrap their arms around each other, clumsily jumping but cheering so loudly and excitedly because neither of them can contain how happy they are. Dream is half-convinced this is even better than when he hit 1 million subscribers on YouTube.
After they had calmed down a tiny bit, George asked “What now?” And answers himself by leaning in for a kiss. He pulls away before Dream can react, instinctively jumping back, but he quickly reaches for George again to pull him into another pretend kiss. They laugh, and laugh, and laugh.
Seeing George walk around their new home is surreal, watching him meet Patches and cradle her like his baby almost makes him excuse himself so he doesn't cry. George is here.
George is finally, finally home.
He's so happy he can ignore the terrible voice in the back of his head that is so scared for his future.
-
It's his first ever real party and okay, maybe he's had one too many drinks and maybe he's feeling a little reckless as he presses his lips to the third guy’s tonight. None of the kisses are particularly special, just quick pecks after he suggests it would be fun, which it is, despite him having to bite back the guilt gnawing at his skull because George is back home. He figures the only way to shut it up is more drinks and more kissing. He barely remembers opening Twitter in his drunken state.
He's completely wasted and although he doesn't remember when he called an Uber, he's grateful for being able to step into his home and find Sapnap rummaging through the fridge.
“Nick!” he slurs excitedly, walking up to him and bringing him into a hug, though it's more like just pushing all of his weight onto him.
“Dream! What the hell?” Sapnap groans, pushing him off of him. “How drunk are you, man?”
Dream laughs. Everything is so funny. “Jus’ a lil,” he says, pinching his fingers to emphasize just how little he drank. Sapnap chuckles and rolls his eyes.
“I'm so sure, you know Twitter is going insane, right?”
That sobers him up a little.
“Ab't what?”
“Nah, don't worry about it, nothing bad.” Sapnap quickly reassures him. He pats his shoulder, laughing. “You were just funny on priv and, like, tweeted about kissing a bunch of guys. But you deleted it, so.” He shrugs like it doesn't matter. To be fair, it probably doesn't to him. But to Dream-
Dream groans, sluggishly rubbing his face. “Fuuucckkk” he whines. The memories of kissing all the guys and one of them accidentally getting handsy, before Dream pulled him away because he wasn't really looking for that, just some experimentation and fun, but then he remembers-
“Oh, hey dude,” Sapnap says and Dream freezes. He feels George's eyes digging into his skull but Dream refuses to look at him, that ugly guilt building back up like bile, and holy shit Dream thinks he's gonna puke. He quickly runs to the kitchen sink, ignoring Sapnap yelling at him as he loses the sushi they had all ordered that night for dinner before he left for the party.
“Holy shit dude!” Sapnap screeches, running away like he'll somehow get infected, and if Dream wasn't stupidly drunk and panting over the now very gross sink he would have rolled his eyes. Sapnap is stupid. He hears the familiar sigh of George and soft footsteps padding over to him before gentle fingers run through his hair.
“Dream,” George says and Dream could cry at how disappointed but loving he sounds. Fuck. “Can you lift your head up so I can run the water?” Dream feels like a child as he slowly raises his head and meets George's eyes for the first time since he got back. He probably looks so disgusting with faint traces of vomit still on his lips and tears welling in his eyes but George just smiles so sweet and sad at him that those tears finally fall. “There you are, idiot,” is all he says before turning on the sink's water and garbage disposal.
Dream slowly blinks at him, mind still hazy from the alcohol. He notices that Sapnap left. When the hell did that happen? He sniffles stupidly and looks back to the now mostly clean sink and George turns the water off.
“‘M sorry,” he mumbles quietly. He doesn't have to specify why – they both know what it’s for. George sighs again and his fingers return to carding through his curls.
“... It's okay,” he breathes out and Dream squeezes his eyes, annoyance building back up at himself. They're not together, they haven't even had a chance to properly talk about it - something they had only very briefly mentioned once late on call anyway - since George got here through all the commotion and traveling of their new lives. But it's not fair to him and Dream knew it.
Dream grits his teeth, fingers gripping harshly at the rim of the sink. “No, it's not okay, George. I'm sorry.” He's just- he's so scared, of everything, of George. But he can't bring himself to truly admit it, let alone tell George. He thinks he'd die if he saw how George would react if he told him.
George is silent again for a moment, leaning into his space and resting his head in the crook of Dream's neck. Dream breathes in the smell of his shampoo, too drunk to feel embarrassed at how obvious it is. George doesn't seem to mind at all.
“Okay… thank you.” He whispers. Dream tentatively rests his arm on George's lower back, feeling like he could cry all over again as George melts into the touch. This is his favorite thing, getting to finally hold George in these intimate moments. He wouldn't trade it for anything.
They stand in the moment together, Dream still drunk and George still too quiet. He hates it when George is quiet.
“Y'know, the guys were, like, really bad at kissing,” he blurts.
George lets out a loud, honest laugh and looks up at him. His heart squeezes.
“Yeah?”
Dream's giddy, George's laughter is always his favorite thing in the world, even better when he laughs because of him. He needs to keep George like this, relaxed and happy and giggling because of him. “Yeah, bet you would have been way better.”
He immediately regrets it when George’s gleeful expression turns flat and closed off.
“Dream.”
“Sorry,” he says for what feels like the thousandth time tonight. He's so stupid but George is looking at him and he's so fucking pretty he might die. “I'm sorry.”
George pulls away from him and Dream is left with his arms lamely hanging. He's so cold.
“I'm going to bed,” George says, not unkindly. He turns away and Dream feels his heart shatter, even though it was all his own fault.
“Okay.”
George pauses before he turns the corner of the kitchen, looking over his shoulder back at Dream. “I'm not mad, just so you know.”
Dream breathes in. “Okay.” He breathes out.
George is gone.
Dream almost wants to chase after him, he wants to fight, for George to get mad at him. Things would be so much easier if George yelled at him, degraded him, hated him. If George was mad, he would not have to deal with this god-awful guilt choking him, this terrible weight knocking him down so strongly that he has to try and find his footing again.
Instead, he finds himself sliding onto the kitchen tiles, back pressing harshly against the cabinet’s handle that he can’t bring himself to move away from.
The pain is almost comforting.
–
He's drunk again, but it's infinitely better because George is drunk with him this time. It's gotta be, like, 5 am by now. They’re both home from a bar and giggling at nothing on their couch, and Dream thinks there's nothing better than this. Absolutely nothing can top the twinkle in George’s eyes or his blinding smile and the red that paints his cheeks.
George is clingy and affectionate when he's drunk and Dream revels in it as George invades his space on their way too big couch. It briefly reminds him of last year, when George got drunk when hanging out with Hasan and Austin. Dream had called Austin after George's call to him, needing to make sure he was okay and telling Austin he had to babysit George for him since he couldn't do it himself.
Dream forces himself to not think about it–George may as well be in his lap and Dream reciprocates in earnest, wrapping an arm around his waist. It’s something he's found himself naturally drawn to ever since they met in person. He’s giggling as George hides his face in the crook of his neck.
“Dream, Dreamie, Dream, Dream…” George sings, wrapping his arms around his neck, and Dream thinks he's spilled some of his drink. Whatever, he'll clean it up later.
“Hmmm?” He hums in response, squeezing George tighter and swaying him back and forth.
“‘M soooooo drunk, Dream,” he tries but fails to whisper in his ear and Dream flinches back at the volume. From this distance, he can feel his breath against his cheek and his beautiful glazed eyes stare at him. Maybe he shouldn't have drunk so much tonight, he thinks, as he is slowly lured into dangerous territory despite that awful voice in his head telling him to run and hide away forever.
“Geo'ge,” he mumbles, filter gone even worse. He stares at George's too-pink lips, something he has been thinking about too much lately. More than he should be, because he knows it's unfair. Yet he can't help himself. “I wann’ kiss you.”
George pauses again, but he doesn't pull away and Dream is a selfish, selfish man.
“Wha'?” George asks, blinking at him.
“C'mon, you- you, like, you kissed Karl that one time,” Dream tries to justify himself, doing his best to ignore the jealous flare he gets whenever he thinks about it. He knows it was never serious, but he could never really stop thinking about how someone got to kiss him before he did. He's too stupid. “‘Nd it- it'll be funny, I could even, like- like make a snap of it.” The more he talks, the more his too-drunk brain is convinced that it's actually a good idea. Kiss, post, send - good content with the bonus of kissing George. It's really a win-win.
George's face scrunches up and Dream thinks he'll trade anything to kiss his nose instead now. Every part of him is too perfect; it sometimes scares him. “B’t Karl- we-” George takes a moment to look at Dream, studying him the best he can in his drunken state. Dream doesn't know what he's looking for but he hopes he can give it to him. Finally, George giggles. “I- I guess it would be pretty funny, kissin’ you and stuff.” Dream feels a thrill rush down his spine and he grins at George.
“Yeah? We can?”
George shrugs and smiles dopily up at him, “Mhm.”
Dream's heart is erratic as he quickly fumbles, trying to find his phone - where the fuck did he put it? He finds it between the cushions of the couch, retrieving it triumphantly. George looks at him so fondly that he's sure he would melt. His eyes drift down to George's lips and oh, this is actually happening.
“So- do we, just,” George says, shifting on the couch, almost like the reality of the situation caught up with him at the same time.
“Um- yeah, lemme jus’-” Dream leans back into George's space, wrapping his arm that's holding his phone around George's shoulder and holding his face with the other. He doesn't think they've ever been this close before. He can smell the fruity alcohol George had been downing all night from his breaths and Dream wants to taste it. George looks dazed from far more than the booze and he unconsciously licks his lips.
“Dream?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you g’nna kiss me?”
Dream thinks he's been waiting his entire life for that question, but now faced with it he can't help but feel scared at the idea. He's terrified he's going to ruin George, somehow. He fears that when they press their lips together George will burn and melt before him. But he looks so open, so ready and wanting Dream to kiss him, that he nods, his body magnetized to George's as he slowly leans in.
Finally, finally, their lips press against each other and Dream is convinced there's nothing else to live for other than this. The world doesn't end, nobody gets electrocuted or burned–there’s just the feeling of George's slightly chapped lips against his. Even if it's the lightest, most chaste kiss he thinks he's had and he puckers his lips like an idiot for the picture, he'd trade every kiss he's ever had before to do it again. Through his hazy mind, he somehow remembers to press the camera to take a picture. George pulls away first, his face beet red but his smile still blinds him and Dream grabs his phone, drunkenly posting it to his Snapchat and tossing his phone behind him.
They continue to talk through the night, eventually passing out on the couch together, blissfully unaware of the massacre they had set off.
When they wake up, neither of them talks about it, despite Twitter being a landmine. Instead, George asks him if he finally wants to play that game the fans always asked them to, and he agrees easily.
Dream accepts he's too much of a coward to push it.
–
George lays by him on his Airbnb bed. Dream can feel his fingers playing with his chain and shivers from the tickle.
“George, knock it off,” he groans, lightly swatting his hand away.
“You're an idiot.”
Dream scoffs, sitting up so he can look down at George who is now fiddling with his own fingers instead. “How am I an idiot?”
“Just let me play with it,” he whines in place of a response. Dream giggles, laying back down beside him. George instantly latches back onto his chain and Dream sighs, trying his best to sound annoyed despite the pleased tingle he feels in his fingers. They lay like that for a couple more minutes, the only sounds in the room were their quiet breaths and the jingling of his gold chain.
Dream sits up suddenly the second he remembers. “Oh, wait! Wait, lemme-”
George rests on his elbow, staring at him with his face scrunched up. “What?”
Dream scrambles to his bedside table, rummaging through his drawer before grabbing the velvet jewelry box. He sits back down next to George, handing the box to him. George stares up at him, eyebrows furrowed as he glances from the box to Dream.
“Here, it's, uh- This is actually a new chain,” Dream says, tugging at his own. “Well, you knew that I guess. But- I still have my old one so if you…” He trails off, face flushing in embarrassment as George doesn't say anything, just stares at the box. “This is the box my new chain came in, but I decided to put my old one in it ‘cause I wasn't really sure where else to put it.” He opens the box and pulls out the gold chain for him, the light reflecting like some kind of precious jewel. “You can wear it if you, like, want to fidget with something. It, uh- doesn't have to mean anything.” He adds on nervously.
At that, George finally looks up at him, meeting his eyes and Dream flushes even more. “Okay,” is all he says and Dream feels himself nodding.
“Cool, uh, lemme-” He gestures for George to turn around, who takes in a subtle breath before facing away from him. Dream delicately wraps his old chain around his tempting pale neck, hooking the latches together like it's a promise. Dream swallows, heart pounding in his throat as he leans back to admire it.
It's stupid, really–it's just old jewelry. He doubts George will really wear it often, always complaining about how weird jewelry feels when he wears it. But then he turns around to face Dream again, his smile shy and awkward, and he realizes that they both know it's more than a necklace.
George looks like he's about to say something, and Dream feels like he's on the edge of his seat, always hanging on every word George has to say. But instead, he just reaches forward to play with Dream's chain again.
“I like yours more.”
Dream scoffs, “Well, you're not getting this one.”
George pouts, tightening his grip on Dream's chain and he thinks he feels lightheaded. George can not be real. “Why not?”
“‘Cause this one is, like, expensive.”
“Oh, so you just gave me your cheap seconds?”
Dream laughs, leaning into George's space and hiding his face in George's shoulder.
“You're such an idiot, George.” They stay in their usual sweet silence for a couple more moments, Dream fighting the urge to swat George's hands away when they start to tickle his neck. “Did you actually want a different one? I might be able to get you one.”
“No,” George says simply, and Dream grins. He knew George didn't actually care about that stuff, he just wanted to hear George say it, tell him everything he thinks and craves.
George doesn't take off his chain.
-
It's late at night and they're sat on the couch, a place they find themselves in often. They're both occupied with their own phones, mindlessly scrolling TikTok, and if Dream hears George snort he leans over so George can show off whatever was so funny. It's their usual routine, and Dream could not ask for anything better.
They don't talk about any underlying tension, whether that's because neither of them wants to or because neither of them thinks they can, Dream doesn't know. But he loves how they are now, so perfect and still and them. He gets to feel like a human again, and better yet he gets to be a human with George. Dream sometimes forgets how trapped George was right with him, stuck in a country where he felt like he had friends but it was never what he really wanted.
Dream's heart tugs when he thinks about it. He mindlessly grabs George's ankle that had been lying in his lap and squeezes it. George looks up at him from his phone, and raises his eyebrow.
“What? You got some kind of foot fetish?” George flexes his toes and Dream pretends to gag, holding his ankle higher.
“No, you're such a pervert.”
George spits out an indignant laugh. “Pervert? If anyone’s a pervert it's you, with- with your foot fetish.”
Dream immediately raises his other hand to George's foot, tickling the sole and George screams, trying to kick away from him. “Dream! You idiot! I- stop!” He squawks, and Dream can't even get through a word from his non-stop laughing, his chest starting to hurt and tears forming in his eyes. George eventually manages to get away, crawling to the other side of the couch with a dramatic huff as he curls up in a ball and goes back to his phone.
Dream pouts, “Geeoorrggee.”
“No, go away.”
Dream whines even louder, just to be more annoying. He pushes himself up and paces to George's spot who looks up at him with a cautious glare. “I'll bite your dick off.”
Dream laughs, raising his hands in surrender. “I just wanna watch TikToks with you, that okay?” George studies him for a moment, looking him up and down and Dream somehow feels so naked and exposed under George's eyes. Finally, George shrugs and returns to his phone, but he turns the volume up and Dream knows it’s an invitation.
He moves not-so-gracefully between George and the couch, practically spooning him as he rests his head on his hand to watch the videos. He lays his other hand on George's waist and smiles to himself when he sees the slight shiver George gives. They rest like that for what seems like forever and no time at all, content as George mindlessly scrolls his for you page and goes back when Dream asks him to because something caught his eye, only to ultimately scroll past it again. TikTok has gotten boring.
George briefly stops at a video, one about some woman talking about her wedding day and how she got to share it with her two children. She talks about marrying her husband at the courthouse and for their 10th anniversary they had their official wedding, shows her beautiful dress and her two daughters in their cute flower girl dresses. Shows the video of her husband sobbing trying to get through his vows. Dream's heart aches and he can't help but smile, it's overwhelmingly sweet. When the video starts to loop, Dream glances down at George who seems to be studying the video like some kind of complicated math equation. The visual makes Dream chuckle, though he finds himself again begging and pleading to know every thought George has ever had. George looks up at him.
“What?” George asks, crinkling his nose.
Dream shrugs, laughing again. “Nothin’, you just looked kinda funny.”
“Funny?”
“Okay- no, not, like, that funny.” Dream quickly defends himself and George giggles at him. “You just looked like you had a lot on your mind…” Dream trails off, hoping George will continue.
George turns back to his phone and subtly bites his lip. “I just, I dunno,” he shrugs, “I don't really know what my future is gonna look like.”
That piques his interest, Dream sitting up so he can give George his full attention. He's not missing this clear opportunity George is giving him. “What do you mean?”
“I don't know, I- it's, like, I imagine I'm still living here, but would I have moved out? Would you-” He glances at Dream, before quickly looking away and hugging his knees to his chest. George wants to live with him still in the future.“I don't really, like, see myself getting married or anything so… it's just, like, weird. What happens if…”
Dream pauses. He doesn't like hearing that. “What do you mean?”
“What happens if you don't want me there anymore?”
Well, that's the dumbest question George has asked. “Why would I not want you there?”
George shrugs, looking away. Dream can't stand that.
“George, we could be in our 60s and you will always have a home here no matter what, okay? If- if you want it, you have it, okay?”
George looks at him skeptically, eyeing him up and down before shrugging again. “If you say so, I guess.”
Dream is about to protest again when George changes the subject suddenly. “I don't know. I guess I just don't really… get the point of it? Like, why would you need, like, a paper to show you love someone or not.”
Not what he expected to hear, but he guesses he will give George this one pass. Dream bites his lip, tapping his hand as he thinks of what to say next. “I mean… It's, uh, it's not really like that. It's like…” He takes a deep breath, looking back at George who is looking at him so intently, and Dream's face flushes as he forces himself to make eye contact. He feels like he has to make George understand this, his hands are stupidly clammy and he awkwardly wipes them on his pant legs as he sits back
“It's committing yourself to that one person. Like, that one person you love more than anything that you will offer your- your soul to. You trust them with everything you are and you want to give them everything you have.”
George scoots minutely closer to him but Dream feels like he crossed an entire mile. He feels hyper-aware of George's every move, breath, and thought. His fingers feel numb where George’s own brush against them and it is so soft Dream can not tell if it’s on purpose or not. One glance at George’s bright red face tells him all he needs to know. He takes a deep breath and rests his fingers against George’s more confidently.
He makes eye contact with him and he is so blindingly gorgeous. His hair is getting longer and his curls have grown with it, going every which way that Dream can’t help but think makes him so damn endearing. His stubble is hairier than normal too and his - Dream’s - chain has fallen out of his shirt and glows under the ceiling lights so perfectly. Dream reaches for the gold, twirling it between his fingers and he smiles when he hears George take a sudden breath of air. George loses the eye contact but Dream can tell he is still intensely paying attention.
“Marriage is knowing you have that one person and it’s the ultimate commitment to them. It’s taking their hand,” he unconsciously reaches for George’s hand again, “and offering them your entire heart, because you know that they will take care of you. And you want them to take care of you because you love and trust them so much. And you, um, obviously you take care of them just as much. You devote everything to your partner.”
This time, George looks at him again and it’s Dream’s turn to glance away, trying to pull away as casually as he can. He swallows, grabbing his own hand as he lays back against the couch. “So, yeah that’s- um, that’s why marriage is, like, really cool. I guess.”
For the first time in 20 minutes, George lets out a soft, shaky giggle. “Wow, bro’s, like, selling me on marriage.”
And it’s so absurd, but also so George Dream ends up bursting out laughing, bending over from the force of it. He can’t believe his life sometimes, he can’t believe George is even real. He’s struck with the knowledge of something he’s known for a while: he loves him. He looks back at George, who has also started laughing and his face has gone even redder. He loves him. Dream tries to collect himself.
“I mean- I- I guess, technically.” He laughs.
George giggles again before shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, “Okay.”
Dream looks at him for a moment, studying his pretty, happy face. “Okay…?”
“You sold me on it. Congrats. W rizz.”
Dream loves him.
–
Dream is in love with George. This isn’t anything he didn’t know before but it still feels like his world has been shifted on its axis every time he thinks about it. He’s just turned 25 and it’s like his entire world revolves around how in love he is with George. In a way, he thinks, it’s always been like this.
George chews food with his mouth open just to annoy Dream - I love him - George bats his eyes at Dream to get him to pay for his overpriced lemonade - I love him - George is fighting with Sapnap in the kitchen, screaming at each other over some smoothie - I love him - George is curled up on the couch and a blanket with Patches laying on his chest - I love him.
If he wasn’t so sure that George felt the same way he’d think he’s gone crazy.
George is scrolling on his phone, lounging back on Dream's office bed. His knee is pitched up, his shorts creeping back on his thigh and Dream has to gulp and look away. His hair is freshly cut from their joint trip with their hairdresser and he looks as handsome as always. Dream is almost mad at how effortless it all is for him, but he appreciates the view too much to really get upset about it. George glances up from his phone and Dream feels his face turn red at being caught, turning back in his desk chair to stare at his monitor - what was he even doing on it before?
“Dream,” George says, and Dream stills. He can’t read George’s tone but for some reason he feels like he can’t look at him for whatever conversation is about to go down.
He clears his throat, “Yeah?”
George doesn’t say anything, Dream tries to look at him from the reflection of one of his monitors and feels annoyed when he can make the shape of George back on his phone. “What, George?”
“Nothin’.”
Dream sighs, leaning back in his desk chair. Are they even having a conversation right now? Did he read into it again? He rubs his eyes tiredly, trailing his fingers up and through his curls which he tugs on in frustration. He doesn’t even know what he’s scared of, really. He feels like for most of his life he’s been scared. And for what? Despite everything, he knows he’s not that dumb. He knows that if he wants it, he can just take it. And fuck, he wants it. He knows that now.
But he can’t fight the small, awful voice in the back of his head asking if George really wants it.
He slowly turns around in his chair, George has now turned his body into a fetal position as he scrolls his phone. He’s slightly pouting, though Dream thinks he doesn’t even mean to and he tries to hide his chest in his knees.
“George?”
George finally looks up from his phone, eyes so scarily unreadable but gorgeous all the same. “Dream?”
Dream stands up, walks to the bed and softly sits next to George. He rests his hands between his knees as he lightly hangs his head in shame and fear. Everything feels like it's crashing down at once, and George didn’t even do anything. It’s all just in his head.
“Did I ever tell you about one of my favorite memories?” He asks. That must get George’s attention, as he starts to sit up more and eyes him.
“I mean, yeah, I guess,” George shrugs. “Tell me anyways.”
Dream laughs, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think I told you this one.” He sees George slightly frown and smiles to himself, recognizing that same feeling. The want and need to know everything about the other, wondering why there is something they could possibly not know about each other. “It was actually pretty recent, we were at that one bar with the really shitty drinks in LA-”
“That place was so shit, oh my god-”
Dream chuckles, “Yeah, and, uh. You were off at the bar trying to find us something that we could actually choke down I think, and then this guy approached me.” “A guy? What guy?”
“You’re an idiot, I don’t know, he was just some guy.” George frowns even more, adjusting himself so he is sat directly facing Dream. “What did he look like?” “George! Oh my god, I don’t even know he was just some guy!” “Okay, whatever.”
Dream scoots closer to George, laughing at how absurd he is. “He’s not important, okay? Just- he came up to me and did that, like, hug dap-up thing. Didn’t even know the guy but he just randomly did that, so I assumed he might have known me as Dream so I mostly went along with it.” He shrugs, “But then he pointed at you and said that- that my boyfriend was cute. And that I, uh, did a good job.” George bursts out laughing, clearly not expecting that. “Oh my god, what? Why didn’t you tell me about that?”
Dream chortles too, shaking his head. “I don’t know, I guess I just- I liked that some random stranger looked at us and…” He trails off, looking away. George slowly stops laughing, bringing his knees to his chest. “And then I saw you walking back from the bar with, like, six fucking shots, trying to balance it all. And you had this smile on your face, like, well, it’s the same smile you always have but… you just looked so happy and care-free, and I felt so happy that some stranger thought we were, um. Together. That you were…”
“... Yeah?”
Dream breathes, “yeah, I- George,” he starts. He looks back up at him and wants to cry at how closed-off George looks right now. His shoulders are raised, tucking into himself. He could almost look like a child being told he’s getting grounded–Dream briefly remembers the story George had told him years ago now, about a small child spilling his heart and guts out only to be rejected– and he quickly grabs George’s cold hands in his own, locking their fingers together, trying everything he can to reassure him. He unconsciously rubs George’s knuckle with his thumb, George looking up at him. Waiting. Waiting and waiting and waiting and Dream wishes to do everything he can to make up for their lost time.
“George, I am so fucking in love with you and- and I am so sorry.” George gasps, squeezing Dream’s hand with his own, it gives him the strength to keep going, just like George always had. “I love everything about you, you know that right? I love when you’re gross, I love when you annoy me and I love how you challenge my mind and heart. I love how smart you are, that I could ask you a random question and you will give me the answer. I love…” He takes a breath after his word vomit, but he can’t stop himself now. All of his love, his yearning, everything that he has bottled up for no reason other than his nonsensical fears start spilling out like a dam broke loose.
“I love your hair, I love your eyes, I love your fucking nose. I love how it crinkles up when you’re confused or trying to appear cool. I love how funny you are, and… I love how you take care of everyone. I love how much you care and how much you feel and I love how patient you are and I love that- that you let me take care of you.”
George’s eyes are watery from held-back tears and his cheeks have gone puffy and his beautiful hand is shaking in his own. Dream pulls his hand up, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I’m sorry.”
He hears George let out a loud, wet laugh. “Stop saying sorry, idiot. I don’t care.”
Dream kisses his knuckle again, a bit rougher and sillier. George laughs again. “Okay, well, I care. Please, let me take care of you.”
“If you really cared that much you would just kiss me.”
Dream freezes where his lips graze George’s hand and he looks up at him from under his lashes. George is smiling, giddy and anxious. Dream questions again how someone like George is real.
“You want that?” George’s smile falls flat as he stares Dream down, Dream chuckles awkwardly. “Sorry, sorry, I just- I just like hearing what you think. That you want me. Us.”
George rolls his eyes, “I shouldn’t have to tell you that. You know already.”
Dream smiles at him, “I know. I just like hearing it.” George scoffs, pulling his hand away and staring at Dream expectantly. “What?”
“Idiot. You know what.”
Dream can’t bring himself to deny either of them any longer, leaning in and grabbing George’s face. He pauses before their lips meet, George huffing in annoyance. “This is our first kiss, okay?” He says.
“What? No, it’s not.”
“Okay, well- this is our first real kiss.”
“You’re an idiot, why does that other one not count?”
“Because-” Dream pauses, trying to think. George pulls away and Dream mourns the feeling of his hot breath against his cheek.
“Dream, everything about us is real, okay? Don’t be stupid. You don’t get to be stupid.” Dream feels his face go red again.
“Right, yeah, sorry.” George pinches his side.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Dream finally rushes to lean into his space again, holding his cheek and sighing as their lips finally, finally press together again. Dream missed him. He only had him like this for a few seconds before, and he’d forgotten how drunk he felt on the smell and taste of George. George hums into the kiss, arms reaching up to wrap around Dream’s neck and Dream leans further into him. His lips taste like his favorite chapstick and when George happily opens his lips, Dream finds the sweetness of his apple juice. Everything about him is so perfectly and fully George Dream can’t fight the soft sound that comes from the back of his throat.
Dream tries to pull away in embarrassment, but George roughly pulls him back by his neck to reconnect their lips. This time, Dream is half-convinced that George is trying to eat him alive. He kisses him like a starving man presented with an entire feast, fingers reaching up to tug into his curls and tugging and Dream thinks this is the closest he has ever felt in believing in God. George falls back onto the bed, dragging Dream with him who is more than happy to oblige. His lips hurt and his brain is so beautifully blank, all he can think and feel is George. He feels the chill of George’s hand press against his stomach-
“Dude!” Dream hears a very Not-George voice yell. He quickly pulls away from George, his face red and lips bruised as he stares at fucking Sapnap, who’s hand is still around the doorknob and jaw gaped open.
“Nick!”
“Don’t Nick me, what the fuck?” He flails his arms around indignantly. “What is this?”
“What does it look like, asshole?” George huffs. Dream looks at him, trying his best to ignore the stutter in his heart at George’s messed up hair and the faint traces of spit around his lips that still lingered. Jesus Christ.
“Nope, not doing that, you’re a bunch of freaks,” Sapnap shakes his head so fast Dream briefly thinks his hat might fall off.
“Sapnap, just-” Dream tries, instinctually grabbing one of his pillows and hiding his face in it.
“Go!” George yells at him, Dream hears Sapnap mutter another what the fuck before the tell-tale signs of his footsteps and the slam of his office door. Dream groans into the pillow more.
George sighs, standing on his knees on the bed and grabbing Dream’s pillow like the evil man he is. He makes up for it by pressing a kiss to his cheek that instantly makes Dream feel weak in the knees.
“We should, uh… probably take care of that,” Dream says, sighing as he rubs his face. George shrugs.
“We don’t have to.”
Dream sends him a look which makes George groan.
“Fine, whatever. But can we… take care of this first?” George asks, gesturing between them. Dream’s heart skips a beat, suddenly nervous despite having that man’s tongue down his throat not even five minutes okay.
“We’re together, right?” He rushes to say. George looks at him, taking it in.
“Together?” “Partners. Like, George,” he chuckles at how stupid it really all is, gaining his confidence back. “You’ve always been my partner and you never won’t be, okay? We’re together. For everything.” George answers him with a small, sweet smile and he hides his face behind his hands.
“Okay, yeah.”
George leans forward, taking his lips in another kiss and Dream revels in the fact that George wants to kiss him.
“I love you,” George mumbles, so quiet that if anyone wasn’t honed into every single move and breath he makes you would have missed it. Dream steals another kiss from him, and another, and another.
They both decide Sapnap can wait a couple of hours.
–
“Dream! Can you come help real quick?” Dream hears George call for him from across the house and he's on his feet in an instant. He rushes to their bedroom and creaks the door open, revealing his husband looking at him exasperatedly from the rocking chair while gently patting their sleeping daughter's back.
“What did you need, baby?” Dream asks, stepping to his two favorite people in the world.
“She had a bit of a spit-up, could you grab me those wipes and clean it off for me?”
Dream is 32 and he is still at George's every beck and call, but he will never complain about George letting him take care of him. He nods, reaching for the wipes set on the nightstand. He returns to George and is finally able to notice the small bit of throwup on his shirt - Dream is thankful he's just wearing a simple black shirt, he'd never hear the end of it if it somehow got on one of his expensive ones. He gently wipes it away, pressing a kiss to baby June's head and pecking George's lips for good measure.
“Do you want me to take her so you can change?” Dream asks softly, trying not to wake her. George shakes his head and scoffs.
“No, we're comfy, aren't we Junie?” The sleeping baby doesn't say anything, but they both know it's true.
Dream chuckles, running his fingers through George's curls who hums sweetly. He still can't believe his life, he doesn't know what he did in a past life to deserve this but he's always been a selfish man and he accepts it with no real questions.
Dream's hand pauses in George's hair the second he sees it.
“Holy shit,” he mutters and George shushes him, way too loud than it should have.
“Language, Dream.”
“Language,” Dream parrots back stupidly as he keeps staring at it.
“What is it, idiot?”
“You have a gray hair.”
George pauses, scowling up at him. “What? No I don't.”
“You do, it's right there,” he presses his finger against his scalp where the hair strand is.
“You're an ass.”
“Language, no, George, I'm not-” He has to wet his mouth again, he never expected to feel this way about a fucking single strand of hair. “I'm not making fun of you, it's just- it's awesome.”
George's nose crinkles the way it always does whenever he confusedly cringes. “Awesome? You're an actual idiot.”
Dream leans over and presses a kiss against the gray hair, smiling when George lets out an upset gasp. “Stop, you probably have, like, lice now. Congrats.”
Dream rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “You do not have lice, shut up.”
“I could, for all you know I could.”
“You don't.”
“I could.”
“You-”
Their usual banter is interrupted by the soft cries of their daughter and they both immediately put their entire attention on her. George lifts her up higher in his arms as he coos at her, so sweet and concerned Dream thinks he falls in love again. He's sure he's fallen in love with George over and over again ever since he met him.
They quickly realize that June needs a diaper change and Dream begrudgingly admits that George changed the last one, so he takes their daughter in his arms so he can take care of her.
When she's the perfect, happy baby she normally is, Dream picks her up, slowly spinning her around as she squeals and giggles. “There's my Junebug, perfect girl.” He kisses her beautiful, chubby cheeks as she giggles more.
When they've both settled, Dream looks up and finds George staring at them, tears rimming his eyes and Dream quickly rushes to him, using his free hand to wipe away his tears. George chokes back a sob and Dream's heart breaks. “George? What's wrong?”
George just shakes his head. But Dream knows he will eventually tell him, he doesn't have to beg and plead in his mind anymore. He guesses that's what comes with getting older.
“Nothing, just-” He laughs wetly, “you're just perfect.”
Dream coos, leaning into him and wrapping his arm around his waist as he has a million times by now but will never get tired of. June pats George's chest from Dream's arms and Dream thinks this is it.
They're going to grow even older, Dream will get his own gray hairs, June will grow up and start school, and they will be each other's partners throughout it all.
Fuck, his life is perfect.