Archive of Our Own ^beta

George sees it before he says anything. He sees the way Dream’s eyes droop and the way his face is more flushed than usual. He even sees the way he is slower when he walks, his strides being smaller than usual. Sometimes his feet drag and George can tell it annoys him, but he doesn't fix it, instead he just lets himself take deep breaths in order to not freak out from the noise. 

George sees his frown slowly form over the few weeks that he is traveling. He even sees the way he speaks less, only using his voice during his concerts. 

At first, George thought it was because of the concerts, post concert depression is real and he thought that maybe Dream was experiencing it tenfold. Taking loneliness to a whole new level. Like his body was just coming down from the very significant high that it was flowing through for many weeks.

He was there when Dream had come off stage in Orlando, and rushed through the backstage halls, running to the bathroom in order to cry or sit in silence. George isn’t sure which one he had chosen to do, since the man had locked the door and only came out once they had to leave and once his family came backstage to talk to him.

He was there when he had sat completely still after his DC concert, staring at the wall. George was worried then, but the man bounced back, Dream always bounced back. Except, now thinking about it, maybe he didn't bounce back. His New York concert ended with him going straight to bed, flying a whole flight without his best friends, and then immediately heading to a party once he got back home. Something Dream never does, or… did.

The Austin show should have been a big one for Dream, Sapnap had flown out his family members who wanted to go and they all hung out backstage before Dream had gone out and sang his heart out. Hell, Dream was even laughing with Sapnap’s youngest sister, showing her random things while she giggled at him. It was adorable, but then the concert happened and Dream came off stage energized and George figured that, finally , he was out of his slump. Finally , he was okay. But then he took a separate car from everyone and he locked his bedroom door at their airbnb and busied himself with work, work, work, and more work.

He was drowning and George couldn't get to him, so he let it go. It was a slump, it was something that would resolve itself, it was okay, he would be okay.

The LA shows were some of his favourites. George loved the way they were bigger and then energy was insane, he even loved how many artists had come out to sing with Dream and see him perform. George had come on stage for one of them, again, singing In LA and sucking up the high of performing.

For the last show, the one that would end all the highs, George stayed back and Dream went alone. He felt bad about it, of course, but he couldn't go. Ken had booked meetings for the whole day and they had all just decided that they would meet back at the house once they were all done with their work.

The Atlanta show was one that George should have been there for. The videos on his twitter weren't enough to satiate his need to know if Dream was okay, if it went well. It had seemed that it was going well from some texts from Bink, but… But Dream didn't text, and when he did it was one word messages, and George let it go, with much reluctance, figuring that he was just tired.

So when Dream showed up at home the next day, meeting Sapnap and George in the living room, he didn't say hi, he just took his shoes off and walked up the stairs, bags and suitcases left at the door, like he hadn’t been gone for weeks.

“What’s up with him?” Sapnap asked.

“I don't know,” George responded, staring at the staircase with confusion, maybe even longing. He isn't sure.

So, he went to bed. He let Dream have his moment and he kept his space. He made sure he didn't overwhelm him and he didn't bother him and make whatever he was going through worse.

George stuck to his own. Only seeing his friends in the kitchen when they accidentally ran into each other while getting food or drinks. He had tried to set up movie nights, trying to get them to all hang out, but Dream always declined, he was always busy, with meetings, emails, and merch products. He was busy and George let him be busy.

That was until now. Until he was walking through the house and heard loud breathing coming from Dream’s bathroom. It isn't soundproof, obviously, and the door is cracked. Well, one of the doors. There are two, one coming from the hallway and one coming from Dream’s bedroom. Something that he wanted, for emergencies or something.

So, George, ever curious George, moves to enter the room. And there is Dream, laying on the floor while he has his eyes closed, breathing heavily and trying to calm down.

George almost asks what was wrong, what he can do to help, and why his best friend is on his bathroom floor. But Dream has other plans, plans to quickly snap his eyes open and roll his head over to face the toilet, immediately throwing his guts up. George rushes over in a second, immediately grabbing Dream’s hair to get it out of his face, holding it with one hand while Dream whines and sniffles, crying softly while George rubs up and down his back.

“It’s okay, let it out. You're okay. I’m here.” He doesn't stop speaking, he doesn't stop rubbing Dream’s back and he doesn't stop his hand from holding his hair. He stays, stays the whole time and he keeps his promise of being by his side.

“ George ,” Dream whines softly, his voice rough and shot. He turns just barely and as gross as it is, George looks at the toilet and then the blond boy, humming.

“Is it just acid?” George asks as if he doesn't already know. Dream nods.

“Acid,” he agrees, his body moving from the toilet, eyes still shut tightly, like it is helping with some sort of head pain.

“Headache?” George questions, moving his hand from Dream’s back to his forehead. He’s hot, he feels it, but it’s not enough, so he moves closer, something his mom used to do. 

Dream groans when George’s lips come a hair width away from his forehead. He moves quickly, even if his eyes aren't open. “No,” he says hastily, “‘m gross.”

George shushes him, “I need to check your temp, just let me, please” He is soft, he is always soft when Dream needs it most.

“But, I’m–” his eyes open and he immediately groans, leaning forward and landing in George’s chest, falling and burying himself as he sighs. George knows he is tense, he feels it, almost like he can feel the pain coursing through the man's body. Like if they were in those alternate universes, that make people have soulmates that can feel each other's emotions, then he would be Dream’s soulmate and vice versa. They would feel each other's pain and they would suck it out of each other. They could help each other. 

He knows how to make him feel better, it’s just… they are best friends, and there are boundaries and George doesn't want to cross them. He doesn't want to push a line that he shouldn't. He can't risk that.

“I smell bad,” Dream says quietly, “and ‘m sweaty,” he shifts against George.

George shakes his head, hand returning to the younger's hair. “I don't care if you smell bad,” he says, hand moving through long locks as his fingers touch a burning scalp. “Let me make you feel better.”

Dream moves lazily, opening his eyes barely before they roll back into his head as he closes them again, moving off of George’s body. “Okay,” he says, “but I’m fine.”

George scoffs, “no, you aren't,” his voice carries harshness even if he doesn't mean to.

Dream shakes his head, wincing. “I'm fine.”

George nods, “Okay,” he says, but leans forward anyway, lips touching Dream’s forehead as the man practically falls to the side, back leaning on the cold bathroom wall, only staying steady because of George's arms and the tile. He doesn't say anything once George feels the hot, slightly damp, skin, he just lays there while George pulls back and hums. Fever . 

It’s not too bad. He’ll be fine. Dream always runs hot. George has been able to kiss Dream’s forehead before, some offhanded affection between the two, it’s normal, his skin temperature is only a little warmer. That knowledge being the only reason why George knows that it’s not that concerning. All the man needs is rest and some pain killers. 

He can make that happen. He can help him. 

“Can you get up?” He asks.

“Mmm, maybe,” Dream hums, his breath becoming shaky from just thinking about standing. George nods, he knows it will hurt, but he also knows that the taller man would be much more comfortable in his bed than on the bathroom floor.

George moves his arms, “slow or fast?” He asks, knowing the man will choose the worst option for himself, even if George doesn't know which choice that is.

“Slow,” Dream decides.

“Okay,” George says, moving away from the man, who immediately whines and tries to reach out, it's kind of pathetic, but it's also kind of cute. George tries to hide his smile by looking down, but he’s sure Dream sees it, he just doesn't comment, too focused on trying not to hurl or maybe too focused on the pain rushing through his head. 

George stands first, kneeling down to try and haul Dream up to his feet. “Come on, let’s do this,” George says, hand clasped in Dream’s loose grip while he tries to slowly move Dream away from the wall. Dream goes willingly, but his body is heavy and sluggish, which makes it very hard for him to take control and slow down his falling. He falls right into George’s chest once more and moans in pain. 

The collision of him falling into George, once again, makes George fall over, falling on his ass as his feet come out from under him. He makes a sound akin to oof before the man who caused his fall apologizes with, possibly, the softest voice George has ever heard.

“‘M sorry,” he says and then tries to pick himself back up, failing again as George sits and giggles. His tailbone hurts now, but he’ll be okay, he’ll get over it. Dream, on the other hand, makes yet another noise of pain. He’s being a little bit dramatic, George can tell, but when they get him into his bed he’ll call Dream’s mother anyway, just to make sure.

Dream tries to sit up once more and does so very messily, his limbs are tired and his mind is shutting off, but George is patient even if he is sitting on the ground, only able to stabilize Dream’s heavy body with his arms. 

Once the man is kind of sitting up properly George reaches out to take his hand once again, getting to his feet as he bends down and pulls Dream upwards.

“Mmph,” Dream says once he gets up front with slow movements. His body leans against George’s again and George thinks that this man might be the biggest teddy bear he has ever hugged. He wraps his arms around his torso while Dream keeps his body practically wrapped around George, like a koala.

If George was stronger and bigger, he would carry Dream, just to make it easier, nothing else. No other reasons.

He starts moving backward, slowly walking and turning his head as best he can while Dream’s hair stays practically in his face. He moves carefully, shuffling them through the bathroom, the stupidly large bathroom. Who needs a bathroom this big anyway? Dream is the only one who uses it, it's not like he has a partner.

That thought makes him bitter, he isn't quite sure why.

Dream groans once more, burying more into George's sternum, maybe his neck? Collarbones? George isn't sure, he doesn't think he knows human anatomy very well, but Dream’s mother does. He really needs to call her. Not about learning human anatomy, but about her son. She knows what to do when he's like this, she raised him.

They move closer to the door while they breathe in sync. It’s not on purpose, or at least on George's end it’s not. Maybe the fact that Dream is hunched over and listening to his best friend's lungs inflate and deflate is what is keeping him calm, distracting him from throwing up or tumbling over, whatever it is, George is thankful for it.

The doorway is hard to move through, not because Dream is being difficult, on purpose at least, but because the doorways in their house are skinny, some weird measurement George thinks is stupid, he also thinks the drywall is stupid, but he has kept that one to himself. His best friends know about his hatred for the doors, he openly states it whenever they have to bring new furniture into the house. Dream had even offered to get every doorway re-cut just for bigger doors, but George told him he was being an idiot. The next day George found tabs saved on Dream’s PC of people who could come re-cut the doors. He didn't tell anyone he knew.

“Okay,” he sighs, moving his arms so he can lean one on the wall.

“‘Ts too skinny?” Dream questions, his voice so soft that George just wants to squeeze him. Something about cute aggression or whatever.

“It’s too skinny,” George agrees, nodding. 

Dream sighs, “Okay,” and then he does possibly one of the gentlest things ever, something George doesn't say lightly. He moves his head, definitely burying his nose into George's neck this time, breathing just below his ear, before moving his hand into his body and making his shoulders smaller. He is making himself smaller so he doesn't have to leave George’s side.

George tries to stop the butterflies from flapping their wings, even taking a second to look up at the ceiling in hopes that the world will be on his side. In hopes that his heart will calm down and that the butterflies will stop flying around his stomach and up his throat.

He doesn't have time to stand around anymore, so he wraps his arms around Dream’s compact body and moves them through the skinny door. In hindsight, they would have fit, but Dream doesn't have to know. He keeps his arms around him as they shuffle into Dream’s room, walking through the clothes that are on the ground, something that never happens, something that Dream is very particular about.

Dream’s closet gets messy, never his bedroom. That fact makes George worry a little bit more. There is something going on, something that warrants more care. They make it to the bed and George slowly turns them, making Dream take one step back before his legs hit the bed and make him realize he can sit.

It’s dark out, but it's not like George could tell that from the room. The curtains are shut and the clock isn’t on, something about the batteries needing to be changed. He remembers Dream talking about it, but he never brought it up again, knowing that the one time George complained about the sound, Dream had immediately shut it off.

“Come on,” George urges. “Sit down, so you can lay comfortably.”

Dream nuzzles once more but slowly sits anyway, his face being squished into George's stomach instead of his neck. He smiles, hugging him around the shoulders and leaning down to stuff his face into Dream’s curls. He knows Dream complained about smelling bad before, about being sweaty and gross, but George doesn't care.

Dream smells like Dream , he smells like he has been working hard and like he has been home. He smells like his bed and like Patches and he smells perfect. His hair has a hint of his shampoo and conditioner which used to be lavender, but then George had asked him to change it, he made an offhand comment about not liking the smell of the flower. In the days following that comment, Dream’s shampoo and conditioner had been replaced, mint and vanilla took over the old lavender and George’s heart swelled.

His watermelon scrub and vitamin C scrub mixed with the smells nicely, his almond body wash topped it all off, but George never told him that. Instead they had moments like this, ones that toed the line of caring for each other and caring for each other.

He lets himself indulge in the moments every time, letting himself not be confused for a few minutes. But then they always pull apart and George goes back to his bedroom that feels too empty and his mind runs wild. Confusion has been his best friend for a while now.

He sighs, taking one last deep breath before pulling away, making Dream whine again, his arms tightening around George.

“Hey,” George says softly, “Come on, let's lay you down, so I can go get you water and stuff.”

Dream bites his cheek and lip, eyes barely opening to look up at George. His eyebrows are knit together and his face is somehow flushed but pale at the same time. The highs of his cheeks are shiny, like he is wearing that glittery makeup. Highlighter? Glowy powder? Whatever.

He moves one of his hands from Dream’s neck, his skin there is clammy, but George doesn't care. He moves quietly but softly places his hand on Dream’s cheek, letting him lean into his touch as he strokes his skin. 

“Lay down,” he whispers and Dream nods, eyes heavily lidded. He keeps his hands on the man, for stabilization and for comfort, helping Dream lay down as gently as he can. Once he is laying on his back, George pulls the blankets out from under him, apologizing when he jostles Dream too much, earning another whine.

He makes quick work of making sure Dream is comfy before he goes to pull away. “Where are you going?” Dream asks, scared, his hand reaching out and holding George's arm in a death grip.

George shakes his head gently, moving his free arm to use his hand to push Dream’s hair back from his forehead, it's gentle, it's all too gentle. “I have to go get water and stuff, remember?”

“Mmm, and stuff ,” Dream teases, it's barely there, but George hears it.

“Exactly, let me go get it all.”

“Okay,” Dream says softly, letting his grip fall from George's arm.

George goes to move away, but then he stops, moving back and leaning down, his lips press to Dream’s forehead again and Dream makes a soft sound. George smiles and pulls back.

“Why?” Dream asks cutely.

“For the fever,” George says, but to him it sounds like a lie.

“Right, fever,” Dream says skeptically.

“Mhm!” George says quickly and then makes his way out of the room, stopping at his own office to grab his phone before going to the kitchen. He makes his way into the common area of their house, running into Sapnap who seems to be very distraught over if he should eat a muffin or eat eggs.

Sapnap looks up, noticing George before he holds up the egg carton in one hand and the muffin in the other. He moves them up and down in the air, weighing the options as he speaks to George, “Eggs or muffin?”

George shakes his head, “I don't know, Stinknap, eat whatever,” but then he quickly adds, “muffin.”

Sapnap huffs, “not helpful,” but he puts down the egg carton nonetheless, biting into the muffin before grabbing the eggs again and placing them back into the fridge. “You came from his room,” Spanap says, food still in his mouth.

“What would your mother think about you chewing with your mouth full?” George asks.

“She wouldn't care,” Sapnap says and they both know it’s a lie.

“That’s a lie,” George states, moving around the kitchen. “I care,” he says, purposefully avoiding ‘your mom’ joke.

“Since when have you cared about me chewing with my mouth open?”

“I don't know,” George shrugs, but he does know. He’s known Dream’s hatred for talking with food in people’s mouths since they became friends. It annoys him, overwhelms him and makes him feel aggressively upset. It’s something both Sapnap and George know not to do around him and it’s something George has been more mindful of since he moved in.

“Since Dream started caring,” Sapnap says, practically answering his own question.

George moves to the pantry, grabbing canned chicken noodle soup. Quickly moving to grab a bowl, the can opener, and a spoon. “If you already knew the answer, why ask?”

“You came from his room,” Sapnap says once again, this time his mouth not being full. George nods, moving to place the now full bowl in the microwave.

“He is sick right now.”

“Hospital worthy?” Sapnap asks, standing up straighter with concern.

“No, not that I know of, but I’m gonna call his mom just to make sure.”

Sapnap nods, “Okay, good.” He takes more bites out of his muffin and then moves to the fridge, grabbing out a water bottle and handing it to George. “For him,” and then he leaves the kitchen, leaving George alone to grip the counter and take deep breaths.

He pulls out his phone once the microwave beeps, immediately going to Dream’s mother's contact and calling her. He knows it’s late and she probably has a shift soon, but he calls anyway, he knows she’ll appreciate being told what is going on.

“Hello, hun, what's up?” She says immediately.

“Hi, so I don’t think it’s a big deal, but Dream is sick again,” he quickly makes sure to add that he is okay. “He’s okay,” he rushes, “and he has a little fever, his forehead isn't much hotter than it usually is, he was just throwing up and he is really sluggish. I thought you’d want to know. And well, I wanted to see if you have any advice.”

He places his phone between his shoulder and cheek, holding it there while he opens the microwave and grabs the bowl. It's hot, very hot. “ Fuck ,” he curses under his breath, “sorry,” he mumbles in an apology, like he would get scolded.

“Was it–”

“It’s acid,” George interrupts. “Sorry,” he apologizes yet again. “Yes, he is only throwing up acid. I think he’s sick from stress," George adds.

“Hm,” Dream’s mother hums, “I think you might be right,” she is kind, she always has been. “Okay, well, just make sure he drinks lots of water, eats something, and give him some pain meds for his head and stomach. They are in the—”

“The cabinet in the bathroom,” George hums, interrupting again, by accident.

“Exactly,” Dream’s mother says, “you know what you are doing. Just be kind to my poor boy. He’s always overworking himself.”

“I will,” George says, not mentioning how kind he has been so far.

“I know you will. I trust you.”

George smiles, blushing slightly before he grabs a towel and wraps the hot bowl with it, picking it up and then grabbing the water bottle, putting it under his arm. Moving out of the kitchen and into the main floor bathroom.

“Any more advice?” He asks.

“You already know what to do,” she says nicely, “you're already doing everything perfectly.”

“Thank you,” George says and then he hums, setting everything down on the bathroom counter. “I have to go, if I don't get back he’ll try and get out of bed to find me.”

Dream’s mother chuckles, “he is always looking for you.”

George nods, eyebrows furrowing, “Yeah. Yeah, he is.”

“Okay, go take care of him. Let me know if I need to come by.”

“I will, I promise,” George says truthfully, “goodbye and thank you,” He hangs up after he says his goodbyes. Grabbing the bottles of pills he needs, even some NyQuil to help with sleeping. He moves quickly after that, shoving his phone in his pocket and grabbing the food and water, juggling it all with the medication.

As soon as he enters the room he sighs, looking at Dream who is now sitting up with his arms steading himself. “What are you doing, idiot?” George asks quietly, watching Dream peek his eyes open, he just sighs while his eyes fill with tears.

“You weren't coming back,” he says softly and George's heart breaks a little bit. He quickly places everything down on Dream’s side table, which also happens to be the first of his two mini fridges. George knows it's only in here because Dream likes to have cold water and ice randomly throughout the night.

He immediately walks over to Dream, reaching out for him as the man does the same. “I'm sorry,” George says, “I had to talk to Sap and then I called your mom and It took longer than I wanted.” His fingers run up Dream’s arms before settling on his shoulders.

Dream nods, “Okay,” he says, slurring the word.

“Okay, now,” George says, removing one hand from Dream, “sit back so I can give you some soup, water, and pain killers.”

Dream nods, moving back slightly while George reaches for the food first, holding the bowl in his hand while he removes his other hand, watching Dream almost fall backwards before he uses, what looks like, all of his energy to hold onto the hoodie that bunches at George’s hips. George smiles, taking the spoon in his hand, blowing on it to make it cool and then putting it to Dream’s lips. He watches him part them, taking the spoon just slightly into his mouth and then letting George tip the soup onto his tongue. He hums appreciatively and then lets George keep going.

George would be lying if he said he wasn't staring at the pretty pink the whole time, but then again, when he looks up, Dream is doing the same, so he doesn’t feel bad about it. They are both doing it. It’s normal.

Soon Dream turns his head away from the soup, he hasn't eaten nearly enough to be a usual meal, but he has an upset stomach and most likely a headache that has turned into a migraine, so George doesn't push him.

“Done?” George asks and Dream nods. “Okay,” he moves to set the bowl down and then he grabs the water, taking the lid off before bringing it to Dream’s face. “It’s cold,” he warns and then he starts feeding the water to him like he is some sort of plant in the garden.

He wishes to walk through the garden with Dream again one day. They haven't been out there recently. They haven't been out there in way too long, but he wishes for it anyway.

He pays attention to Dream’s ques, very closely, he watches Dream’s throat bob and then he turns just barely, George pulls the water away immediately, meeting Dream’s eyes.

“Feels good,” Dream murmurs and George nods.

“I bet, but you need a bit more and then I need to give you these meds. Can you do that for me?” George asks and he knows it's kind of a low blow for him. He knows Dream would do anything for him, so, yeah, maybe he is using that to his advantage, but Dream’s health is what they are talking about and obviously he doesn't care nearly enough about it, so George has to use new tactics.

Dream nods and then winces, groaning quietly as he scrunches his face, the pressure obviously helping with the pain. George chuckles quietly, shaking his head disapprovingly. 

“Don’t do that, idiot,” he whispers, realizing the level of his voice is probably also affecting the pain that Dream is feeling. He brings the water back up to Dream’s face, “Okay, one more time and then the meds.” Dream opens his mouth, hands softly moving against the fabric on George's body.

He takes the water willingly and then the small twitch in his head makes George pull away once more. He moves after that, not watching Dream face as he tries to be quiet when dumping pills into his hand, taking two and then also grabbing the NyQuil. Dream stays in the same position, only difference is his eyes aren't screwed shut from when he scrunched his face, they are watching George with careful precision. George smiles to himself, but doesnt let the attention affect how he still has to give Dream meds.

“Head back,” he requests and Dream follows, letting George pour a little bit of water in his mouth before dropping the pills in. It was something George used to make fun of him for, but then the man explained how the taste of pills makes him sick. George never made fun of it again. “Swallow,” Dream does as told. Wincing again as he swallows the pills, fingers digging into the fabric on George's hips. It’s not painful for Dream to swallow pills, he just hates the drag of them down his throat. 

“Okay, now,” he says, setting the water down on the fridge and then removing the cap from the NyQuil, pouring some into the little measuring shot glass it comes with before requesting the same thing from Dream. “Tilt back,” Dream follows his direction, letting George pour the wild berry tasting liquid into his mouth. “Swallow.”

Once George is done, he places the NyQuil and its cup back onto the fridge, “Lay down, mister.”

Dream gives him a sleepy and pained smile.

“What?” George asks, moving the blankets. “What are you smiling about?”

Dream hums, before speaking quietly, “Mister,” he says and then he says it again and again, slowly going into a British accent. “Mister, mister, mister, mister,” he repeats. “I like the way you say it,” he confesses and George smiles, fixing the blankets before standing back up right, Dream’s hands staying against him.

He leans in, “Mister,” he whispers in a very hushed tone, watching Dream smile before George guides him with hands on his shoulders and waist. He gets the man laying down once more before bringing the blankets back up to him. He cocks his head, giving Dream a happy, but small smile.

Dream returns the smile, eye twitching in pain, George sees the way he tries to cover it up by keeping his face still, but George notices anyway. He starts to move away, but Dream reaches out, “Stay?” he asks and George nods, he might as well. He knows Dream won't take care of himself if he leaves and he promised Dream’s mom that he would stay with him, he just has to stay.

He moves to get under the covers, but quickly stops himself, looking around for something. He spots it and rushes over to it, ignoring Dream’s punched out sound. He is whining again, but not in pain, more in confusion. George grabs what he needs and then finally settles into the bed.

He holds Dream’s laptop in his hands, he knows the bright screen will probably hurt Dream’s eyes and head, so when he opens it he turns the brightness all the way down, angling the screen away from him until its brightness is low enough. He quickly logs in, knowing Dream’s passwords.

At first the knowledge of the passwords was for emergencies. Precautions, just in case if something happened then George and Sapnap would be able to access all of Dream’s important things. But then Dream would start messaging him passwords and emails for random websites, things that Dream had signed up for once and then never went back to. It happened a lot more than Dream would probably admit, but George is the one with a file backup to a file back up to a file that also happens to be in his Google account of all the passwords Dream has ever sent him. It's for emergencies and Dream doesn't mind or he wouldn't do it.

He quickly goes to Google, typing in Netflix and selecting Dream’s profile, the man has no objections, so he continues. He selects a random movie and turns down the volume when Dream huffs. He sets it between them and lets Dream get comfy. Watching him as he lets the movie play out.

He seems comfortable, in pain, but comfortable. His head is definitely still killing him, the NyQuil will set in before the pills, so he’ll be asleep while his body rests and heals and while the pills do their job. 

His body is soft right now, even if his eyebrows are knit together and he isn't moving around or complaining about being too warm just in case it hurts, so George doesn't let his mind linger on that. The only thing it lingers on is how Dream’s arm moves to cover his eyes fully before he falls asleep. The wrinkle between his eyebrows smoothing out as his mind finally relaxes and as his body stops letting him feel his weird stress-induced pain.

George lets the movie play for a few more minutes while he watches Dream, he watches his chest rise and fall as he releases little puffs of air, gentle snores coming from him. It’s cute, overbearingly cute. He sighs, he can't let himself stay on that, he can't fixate on it or it will take over his life.

He moves as stealthily as he can, reaching for the laptop and bringing it to his lap. He looks at the screen and squints, sighing before he slowly and carefully moves the laptop again and removes the blankets from on top of him, not waking Dream. As soon as he is out of the room he rushes to his own, running into the wall at least once. He grabs his phone charger and his glasses.

He quickly makes it back, changing his pace as soon as he makes it to Dream’s room. Setting his charger down, taking his phone out of his pocket and putting it on the fridge before he puts his glasses on and gets back into bed, grabbing the laptop and getting started on what he should have done a long time ago.

The first thing he does is exit out of Netflix, instead he opens Dream’s email. He starts working quickly and efficiently, his mind running laps as he emails companies back and people back. He quickly goes through the personal emails, typing exactly how Dream would before he moves to the business ones. Refusing sponsorships that Dream wouldn't like. He accepts ones that Dream has talked about and liked before. And then the ones he isn't sure about he lets be, starring them to make sure Dream sees them as important. 

He moves to respond to Ken's emails next, hours of replying and starring taking up his time as Dream rests. Ken isn't that demanding, he only emails for important meetings, other than that it is mainly just texts. George starts to go through meetings next, telling people to hold off on them or canceling them so Dream has at least a week free. It's not something they get often, but he deserves it, especially if work has gotten him to this point.

Messages are next. He goes through his verified twitter messages and his discord messages, responding to important ones instead of leaving them to add up and daunt Dream with the large number. The other apps are next, random ones that George can think of before he goes back to Dream’s email and starts to send his other email the ones he has responded to, just so he can delete them from Dream’s inbox. He knows Dream likes to know exactly what is happening and George won't bother him for that, so he makes sure there are backups of emails, if Dream wants to see them, then he can.

He feels Dream shift after a few hours and the only thing he can think of while he gets another email to respond to is to reach over and blindly put his hand into Dream’s hair, touching him delicately as he types with one hand. His hair is soft, it always has been, but it's also fluffy. Fluffy and soft and healthy. It has tangles in it, maybe from an accumulation of things. Him tugging his hair in the bathroom, to George running has hands through it, to Dream sleeping without putting oil in it.

He hums softly when he feels Dream push into it, George’s fingers making contact with Dream’s scalp. He looks over then, meeting the tired eyes of the boy who is sleepy and so beautiful. George smiles at him, not daring to talk, while he plays with his hair, moving his eyes to look at his hand in said hair before making eye contact once more. 

He starts to pull his hand away which, of course, makes Dream whine once again. George scoffs but it's not in a mean way, more endearing than anything.

“Bring it back,” Dream requests and George shakes his head smiling.

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” he says, but then he talks softer, “please rub my head again.”

George laughs kindly, head tilting to the side as he looks at Dream. “Are you a dog?” he asks, “do you want a belly rub too?” He teases and George expects him to scoff, but Dream does nothing of the sort. Instead, he looks at George with the most hopeful eyes George has ever seen.

“Are you offering?” he asks carefully.

George gives him a toothy grin, moving the laptop fully out of the way before he moves himself around on the bed, getting into a new position.

“What are you doing?” Dream asks curiously.

George doesn't look at him when he says it, instead he just moves, and speaks softly. “I'm giving you a belly rub,” he states. “Lay between my legs,” George says, spreading his legs out to make room for the blond while he leans against the headboard.

Dream bites his lip debating something. He looks at George's body and then into his eyes, releasing his lip from his teeth before moving slowly and trying to settle between George's legs. George won't lie, it makes him laugh. He looks so soft and cute when he struggles to move out from under the blankets and his face scrunching is adorable even if it's from him turning his head too fast, awakening the slowly depleting headache.

As soon as he settles and starts getting ready to lean back into George, George grabs the water bottle from the side table. It's not as cold as before but if that's a problem he can just reach into the mini fridge and get another one. He grabs two more pills while reaching over. Dream turns a little bit in order to grab the bottle, George kind of mourns when he needed him to pour it in his mouth, but he understands that his body is slowly regaining energy instead of being sluggish and tired the whole time.

He takes a few sips and then takes another one before dropping the pills in his mouth and doing the same wincing face he did when he took the other two pills. George bites his cheek to hold back a smile. He watches Dream take two more gulps before going for a third and spilling water on himself, he immediately pouts as George hides giggles behind his hand. 

Dream looks like a dog who just had a butterfly land on his nose, confused and disoriented, like the water spilled itself instead of Dream being careless with where his mouth was and how much he was pouring into it.

He looks at George once he notices his shaking body, staring at him like a confused dog. George tuts, clicking his tongue before using his hoodie and bringing it up to Dream’s lips and chin, wiping away the water that is sitting there. Dream looks at him, staying completely still as he follows George's eyes, which, definitely, do not , linger on his perfect lips.

George hums once he is done and then takes the water bottle from Dream’s hand, putting the cap on and turning back to the fridge, setting it there. When he turns back, Dream is still staring at him, eyes slightly wider but nothing concerning.

George shakes his head, moving a hand to pat his stomach, “lay down,” Dream immediately listens, although he is slow with it, trying not to hurt his head. George appreciates his carefulness even if he was careless before.

He places his hands on Dream shoulders first, shifting their bodies a little bit before he starts rubbing, slowly feeling the broadness and softness. The fabric that is covering Dream’s body gets in the way a little bit but George makes it work, occasionally swiping his thumbs against the warmth of Dream’s neck. Dream doesn't say anything, but George can tell his eyes are closed, he’s enjoying the affection.

George smiles, slowly rubbing his thumbs into the skin under Dream’s ears as he relaxes his jaw before George moves on, running down Dream’s chest and then staying there. It’s not sexual, but it is intimate. Intimate enough for him to not feel bad as he analyzes the way Dream feels against him. His chest is sturdy, he always has been, but he is also soft. So very soft that all George wants to do is hold onto him. His hands make their way down and start rubbing over his stomach.

A belly rub, just like he promised and Dream enjoys it. He hums and presses his face to one of George's arms that drape over his shoulder. He nuzzles into it like he did to his chest in the bathroom, rubbing his soft hair against the hair of George’s arm and then he places the most delicate and soft kiss against the pale skin. George smiles, leaning down and placing a kiss against Dream’s head, sniffing his hair once more as he continues rubbing up and down his stomach, hopefully easing pain away.

“What were you doing on my laptop?” Dream asks sleepily, trying not to disturb the peace, even if he whispered it against George’s arm, giving him goosebumps.

“Some emails and meetings,” George answers, adding more once he lets his fingers caress Dream’s sides. “Just the ones you didn't need to be there for or deal with right now.”

“You did my job for me?” Dream asks suddenly, sitting up quickly but trying to hide the pain that he caused himself. His body is turned to George now, twisted in a way that won't stay comfortable for long.

George scolds him with his eyes, lowering his lids and giving him a blank look before clicking his tongue and moving his hands from his side to his hips. He brings his fingers back up his body as they reach for his temples touching before doing circular motions, easing some of the pain from his head away. Dream tries not to melt into it, George can tell, but it feels good and no matter how well he can stand his ground, he is slowly leaning into it. 

“Yes, I did some work,” George answers. “You are too stressed,” George says, voice giving away his worry.

Dream eyes open wide again, pulling away from George just a little bit. “It’s fine, I can do it.” He goes to move away fully, but George stops him.

“I never said you couldn't,” George states truthfully. “I know you can,” he is soft with him, pleading that the man understands what he is trying to do. That he isn't pitying him, he is trying to help him. “But you threw up from it all today.”

“I ate something weird–” Dream tries to deflect.

“No, you didn't. It was acid, Dream. It was the stress, so don't give me that bullshit." They are harsh words but George says them kindly, eyes flickering between the two of Dream’s while his fingers rests idly on his temples. “I’m here to help, so let me help, you big idiot.”

Dream pouts, his eyebrows scrunching again, “I'm not an idiot.”

George smiles, “you are, but it's okay.”

Dream bites his lip again before turning back around, laying on his back between George's legs so he can continue to give him a belly rub. George adds more to this one, one of his hands massage the base of Dream’s neck while a finger rubs under his ear, lulling him into peace while the hand on his stomach moves around giving Dream more affection than before.

Dream starts to get restless after a bit, it's not because he wants to, it's because he isn't as slumpy as he was before, his body is awake now. He is awake and restless and he needs to change positions, so after a minute of debating and George watching him debate it he starts flipping over.

“Ow,” Dream says, as he turns.

“Head?” George questions and he gets the smallest nod from Dream in response as he sucks in a breath. “Okay, hang on.” He leans over to the fridge before anything else, letting Dream sit up while he holds his head. George opens the door with much struggle. Who even puts that much suction on a mini fridge? He grabs an ice pack easily, something he knows Dream will appreciate. 

Once he has the cold pack in his hand he reaches over to one of the not used pillows, grabbing it and ripping off the pillow case before wrapping the flexible ice pack with the fabric. He sighs before he lifts his hoodie and places it under the fabric and then puts it back down, patting his stomach as he looks up to meet Dream’s eyes.

“Lay down on it, you'll feel the cold through my hoodie.”

Dream nods, getting comfortable as he places his cheek against where the ice pack is, feeling it before he lifts his head again and pouts at the angle of George’s body. He moves his lips around and then he sits up, grabbing George's waist on both sides and pulling him down the bed, making George make a surprised noise before he giggles and smiles at the way Dream hums happily, slowly lowering back down onto the ice pack.

He isn't fully flat, but it's enough for Dream to lay flat and have them both lay comfortably as George smiles at the younger man resting against his stomach.

He feels the way the ice pack starts cooling down his stomach, not so effectively freezing the butterflies there, but he isn't sure he wants them to freeze anyway. Instead, he lets it be and thinks about how Dream definitely feels the cold pack and is one hundred percent thankful for it.

Dream’s arms move next, wrapping around George, making his back arch as he pushes them under his lower back, connecting under George. George hums in approval shifting a little bit and then Dream shifts as well, comfortable silence filling the air around them. Dream’s hands move again, pulling the bunched up fabric from his hoodie flat under him. Making it exponentially more comfortable for the both of them. Dream sighs, digging his face into the ice pack as George moves his own hands. The starts at Dream’s shoulders again, but they quickly move down his back.

George rubs over the fabric first, of course, before he moves his fingers and starts to properly massage the man's body, releasing tension from muscles George didn't even know existed.

“George?” Dream asks, hugging him tighter.

“Yeah?”

Dream hums, deciding if he should ask, his fingers tighten and loosen against George. “Can you tickle my back?”

George smiles, “Of course.”

“Thank you,” Dream whispers, “my mom used to do it.” George thinks he might be falling deeper and deeper for the man in his arms because he knows that even without the breath from Dream tickling his stomach and without the way the words are spoken into the ice pack, that the butterflies are going wild. They go wild for Dream.

George’s fingers work carefully, pulling up Dream’s hoodie as he slowly starts to trace over the warm skin of Dream's lower back. He starts tracing shapes as he smiles at the boy. Slowly drawing up his back to sit in the middle before riding up more of the fabric. He starts to look at all the freckles and moles that Dream’s back holds.

He starts to connect constellations against his back. Connect the dots was his favourite paper game as a kid, he used to sit for hours creating animals out of numbered dots. Dots that made him so happy that his mother kept buying book after book of connect the dots, animal after animal. He even got car themed connect the dots and maybe some house ones, he doesn't really remember those, but it doesn't really matter.

He has another book of connect the dots now, one that is letting him connect the dots with his nails, lightly grazing the skin, instead of a pen or pencil. George thinks maybe that can be something he will be able to do one day. Dream will let him sit against his thighs and just draw on him, creating his own world.

He hums, drawing the hoodie up more and discovering old stretch marks against his sides, he traces those too, smiling at how beautiful they are. He even starts to see acne scars as the hoodie completely bunches up at the base of Dream’s neck. He doesn't say anything as he traces the dots there, connecting freckles, moles, and scars all together, loving Dream in the way he should. He watches and feels the man shiver every once in a while, not because he is cold, but because he is ticklish in certain areas. He doesn't pull away though. He lets George memorize his body. Lets him love him and tickle him and care for him.

“George?” Dream asks as George swipes his nails over a stretch mark.

“Yes?” George hums sleepily, lolling his head to the side to stare at Dream’s hair.

“I love you,” Dream whispers.

“I know, idiot,” George responds with, fondness leaking everywhere.

“No, like,” he tries to move But George flattens his hands, keeping him laying down. Dream huffs and settles back down anyway. “I love you. Like, love , love, you.”

George is shocked but nonetheless smiles, heart bursting through his chest. He takes a deep breath, smiling at the ceiling, trying to calm his butterflies and beating heart. Calming his nerves because he just got the best news of his life and here he is thinking it's because of some sickness delirium. “Tell me when you are feeling okay, alright?” He asks, not because he is doubtful, lie , but because he wants to be able to kiss the fuck out of Dream.

Dream sighs, smiling and kissing the ice pack on George's stomach, too tired to care that he didn't connect with George's body. “Okay,” he hums, melting fully into George. “Love you.”

George tickles Dream’s skin a little bit more, more lightly as Dream falls asleep for the second time. George hums to himself smiling so big that his cheeks start to hurt, he feels good. He feels like he is on top of the world, like he is going crazy in the best way possible.

He falls asleep soon after, the darkness and the love making him feel safe enough to sleep. His hands stay connected to Dream’s skin as he releases soft puffs of air against George. Nothing is better than this.

George’s waking is abrupt and it is nothing spectacular. The only thing different from last night is that Dream is not with him. He worries for a moment, something about being alone or Dream being alone, especially when he was making himself sick, it makes him panic. But then he hears the sink in the bathroom and he turns toward the door. Looking into the opening and seeing Dream walk aimlessly around while he brushes his teeth. 

He seems better, less sick and more energetic. Maybe it's because of the medication or the love confession, or maybe it is a mask that George can’t see through right now. But whatever it is George loves it because Dream is wandering around. Humming and bobbing his head with no shirt on and only sweats. A sight George loves to see. Especially after connecting all the shapes he could possibly imagine on Dream’s back the night before.

He loves this, it feels domestic even when it does not directly involve George. He sees the way the man’s hair still falls onto his forehead, still dirty and soft. George wonders if he still smells amazing. If his hair smells like vanilla mint, or if it smells like his bed, or if.. If it smells like George.

He smiles at that thought, a possessive spike piercing through his stomach. He likes the thought of Dream smelling like him, of their smells combining. He hopes it happens more often. He hopes it happens at all.

He has hope and he has even more hope when he sees Dream walk out of the bathroom, hand running through his hair as he enters the bedroom. His face immediately lights up when he sees George laying there, watching him.

George smiles and then just to be a tease and also hide his flushed face, he lifts the comforter to cover up everything but his eyes, the fingers holding the blanket being the exception. He smiles under the cloth, eyes crinkling as he sees Dream move closer to him.

“Good morning,” Dream says, moving closer until he is right by the bed, looking down at George with a sparkle in his eyes. He looks way more well rested up close, less sick and more lively. He looks beautiful, through and through.

“Morning,” George mumbles and Dream smiles while tilting his head, his hands go to his pockets as he decides on something, eyes moving all over George's face. He stares as George giggles with nerves and he stares until he breaks out in a big smile, sighs, removes his hands from his pockets, and moves quickly, landing right on top of George, just like last night, except this time George breaks out in loud laughter.

“What are you doing!” He laughs as Dream chuckles with him, digging his hands into his sides and lightly tickling him. It's gleeful, very, very, gleeful.

“ Good morning! ” Dream sings, his laughter making him look even more bright, a shining star. George giggles and giggles flailing around on the bed, blankets slowly wrapping around him and starting to trap him. Dream gets the memo of that, and immediately starts to hold George still while he quickly makes work of wrapping George tightly in the blanket, burrito-ing him.

Dream laughs brightly and loudly as George giggles while trying to escape the strong-hold of Dream. He shifts as he is pulled tightly, Dream’s arms pinning him down. “Burrito cat!” Dream laughs loudly, which, in turn, makes George, literally, snort. He immediately stops laughing, looking up in horror as Dream stares down at him with wide eyes.

He goes to move away, trying to get away from the embarrassment, but Dream stops him with his hands, holding him in place while his skin flushes.

He shakes his head, smiling gently, “You are so adorable,” he says softly and George stops moving, stops breathing, even saliva collects in his mouth. Butterflies, butterflies, butterflies, butterflies. His hands are holding Dream’s bare arms and he can't help but feel like he is salivating. He feels the muscle and the soft tissue and he just wants to bite him. He wants to love him and be loved by him and he wants and wants and wants.

Dream lays down next, body weight falling onto George. He doesn't complain though, the man feels like a weighted blanket, a security blanket that George never wants to let go of. It’s like the blue dinosaur he had as a kid, the one with a long neck and short stubby legs. Dream is his blue dinosaur, he is his safety. 

He moves his arms as Dream rests his chin on his sternum. Looking at him from an angle that no doubt makes George look unflattering. He knows he looks dumb looking into Dream’s eyes but he can't stop himself. His arms come to rest on Dream’s bare back, fingers connecting random shapes and dots even while he can't see. Even his legs, which have somehow come out of the blanket that is bunched all around George, lift to wrap around Dream’s lower back. Holding him in place while Dream fingers twitch on his chest.

George knows the answer to his next question, he can see it, but he asks anyway. “Are you feeling better?”

Dream smiles and nods.

“Headache?”

Dream’s answer consists of moving his shoulders back and forth, basically saying, “Ehhh…”

George smiles, “Stomach pains?”

Dream’s head shakes no.

“Thirsty?”

No again.

George hands move, fingers dancing along Dream’s spine, only the very top, the part that connects his neck to his back. “Hungry?”

No.

He moves his hands fully then, smiling as he runs his fingers through his hair, scratching softly. Dream hums appreciatively as he almost closes his eyes. George nods, scratching behind Dream’s ear and he is sure he hears a whimper, but he doesn't say anything about it, moving onto a different question. “Are you okay?”

Dream nods, speaking for the first time in awhile. “I’m okay,” he reassures, and it's truthful.

George nods as well, matching him with a gentle smile as Dream sits up, straddling George. “I’m okay,” he reiterates and then he leans down, “I love, love, you.”

George almost cries, literally almost cries, he has to look away and laugh wetly while smiling before meeting Dream’s eyes again. The ever patient man, who loves him just keeps his face gentle, waiting for George. “Well,” George says, rolling his eyes in a very George way. “I guess I also might love you.”

“You love me?” Dream asks like a very giddy puppy, one who just got told it was a good boy. One that just got given a treat, as if Dream didn't already know George loved him.

“I said I might ,” George teases just for fun and then Dream lets out another loud and joyful laugh.

“Let me kiss you, please?” he begs and George starts nodding but once Dream leans down he moves his head away, making Dream pause.

“I haven't brushed my teeth,” George states and Dream shakes his head.

“You watched me throw up yesterday, I don't care about your morning breath,” he is so very lovesick. “Let me kiss you.”

George sighs, just for the meme, he likes teasing Dream, what can he say? And then he looks away before peeking back at Dream’s very excited face. He nods and Dream immediately holds his face between his hands and pulls him to face him. Gently placing a kiss against his mouth before he pushes into it more, George reciprocating immediately.

Butterflies fill every part of his body this time, not just his stomach or throat, no he feels it everywhere, fluttering and tickling him all over while Dream kisses him numb. It's magical, but not because of fireworks bursting around them, but because he is so in love that he thinks that that is what is exploding around them. It's love, everywhere. He is connected to the man he loves most and he feels like he can do anything. He is on top of the world, looking down while Dream holds his hand.

They pull back, looking at each other before diving in again. It's like coming up for air. Like George has never breathed so clearly. He doesn't know if that sounds stupid, but he loves it nonetheless. The feeling makes him fall harder and harder until Dream catches him and sweeps him off of his feet yet again.

They pull away and George watches the way Dream licks his lips, as if trying to taste George on them. He goes for another make out session, but George stops him, turning away and putting a hand on his chest. “I have to brush my teeth, and you have to shower– I have to shower.” he sighs, slamming back into the bed and groaning. He doesn't want to take a shower. He wants makeout with Dream and feel all the feelings and he wants to never leave again, but he also needs to be a responsible adult.

“We could shower together,” Dream shrugs, hands tapping against George’s chest as he stays sitting up.

George looks at him, “Really?” He asks and Dream nods.

“Of course,” he starts to move. “Come on, let's go.” He gets up fully and holds a hand out for George, who, of course, takes it graciously. Tripping over blankets as Dream keeps him balanced, leading them to the bathroom where Dream turns on the shower, letting it warm up as they strip.

George stands by the vanity, watching Dream take his sweats off and then his boxers, naked and standing there, not even scared of George’s observation. George thinks that this is why he wanted the big bathroom. It makes much more sense, because when Dream turns to him, everything is on full display, he smiles kindly. Walking over to George as George's eyes shoot around Dream’s body, taking everything in. 

He is beautiful, sturdy and built well, but soft, just like his observation from yesterday, except this time George can see every freckle and scar and mole and he is falling in love with all of them. He sees all of Dream and he never wants the moment to end. Even when Dream reaches him and grips the hem of George’s hoodie, bringing it over his head. He keeps looking while Dream looks at him. Hem of his pants is in Dream’s fingertips next before he pulls them down and then his boxers follow suit soon after.

They stand in steam as they observe each other and see everything. He sees Dream take a deep breath before he leans in closer, placing a kiss to George’s collarbone before pulling away, but letting his hands rest on his waist, squeezing while all George can think about is how big Dream is.

Everywhere, he is big everywhere, his hands, his body, his legs, his dick, his head. Everything. He is a big person and George loves it. He smiles, stepping away from the vanity and kissing Dream before he leads them to the shower, stepping in and feeling the water, adjusting it to his favourite temperature and then getting under the spray, Dream following.

Dream is beautiful, George knows that, but he is even more beautiful as water sprays all over his body. He looks like a God. A Greek God and George wants to never let go, he wants to devour him, but not sexually, not yet at least. No, he wants to love the man so much that it is known by the whole world.

He reaches forward, rubbing his hands all over Dream’s chest feeling everything, he has half the mind to think of a joke but not half the mind to stop himself from saying it. “The dritties,” he says lowly, and Dream laughs, hands leaving George's hips to reach lower, holding his ass.

“The grass– geass? Gass? Gogass…?” Dream jokes, words stumbling out of him, trying to figure out the dumb name that their fans made up, squeezing the fat in his palms, making George squeak. 

“You finally touched grass?” George teases and Dream smiles, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“If this is what grass feels like then I want to touch it all the time.” He squeezes once more while George laughs, clicking his tongue but smiling nonetheless. He is so dumb, dumb and in love and perfect.

Dream reaches for his shampoo on the top shelf, bringing it down for them to use. He squirts some into his hands before he tells George to turn around with his finger. George nods, turning and leaning his head back as Dream runs soap and his fingers through George’s hair.

He smells the vanilla and mint, letting himself soak in it and he gets cleaned, or at least as his hair gets cleaned. Dream hums a song under his breath, body showing the same amount of love to George as his words do. 

George sighs happily and then gets scared when Dream leans down to him and kisses his mouth upside down. It's a little bit awkward but George smiles nonetheless and opens his eyes once his love moves away. Dream smiles right back before spinning George and telling him to tilt his head back, washing away all the shampoo.

George’s turn is next, so he gets Dream to lean down, as he makes him soak his head and then let George gently card his hands through his hair, soaping up all of his curls, making every single one clean. He takes his time with Dream, meticulously cleaning him and also maybe selfishly enjoying the amount of sounds Dream is making from how good his head massage feels.

He gets Dream to wash the soap out of his hair quickly and then makes him grab the conditioner for them, Dream’s gets it on all of his fingers, running it through George’s hair and making him leave it in while he returns the favour.

“Remember when you used two-in-one?” George asks giggling as the conditioner soaks into his hair and as he is applying conditioner to Dream’s curls. 

“Hey,” Dream says softly, hands staying put on George's hips. It’s like it's their home now, not by Dream’s side, but right on George’s. “You were the one who used three-in-one until you moved here and my mom showed you proper hair care.”

George smiles devilishly, “She showed me a lot of other things too,” he says, cackling at the way Dream’s head shoots up, quickly yelling out.

“George!”

George shakes his head, making Dream put his head back down until he is done. Once he has hydrated Dream’s hair and once his hair sits with conditioner in it, they kiss and love each other and they run fingers through each other's hair and as they can't keep their hands off of each other. They are lovesick, just like before.

George hums the same song as Dream after a while, letting the man remove his hand to grab the body wash before he tells George to tilt his head back and wash out the conditioner. George does as told and then lets Dream have the time to rub body wash all over George, washing away grime as he kisses him everywhere he has cleaned. He kisses his nose first and then his lips and then he finds home in George’s neck and collarbones as he washes George's chest and stomach. The water clears the suds as he moves down, kissing George’s chest and then his stomach, while he starts to get on his knees. George knows nothing will happen; they are too high on non-sexual intimacy to go anywhere with it, but he likes to think that one of these days he will feel Dream everywhere and Dream will feel him everywhere.

Dream kisses his stomach as he scrubs his legs and then he kisses his thighs and knees before looking up at George from the ground. George brings his hands to his hair. “I love your hair,” Dream says, “I love it all.”

“Yeah?” George asks as Dream observes all the hair on his body.

“Yeah,” he says, running his cheek against the leg hair before bringing his whole body upwards, rubbing against any hair he can find. Even his happy trail gets Dream-beard love.

He loves Dream-love. He loves it so much that he might cry, but he holds it in. He lets himself feel it but not release it. He holds onto it gently and delicately as Dream comes up to face him and kisses him again, his head getting Dream love as well before Dream turns George around and starts to wash his back. Kissing down his spine and then his ass and then the back of his thighs. His Dream-love getting everywhere. 

On his way up from the back of George’s legs this time, he bites George's ass just to be an ass and George swats at him once he is eye level, but he isn't actually mad. He could never be.

It’s George’s turn to make Dream rinse out his hair and then soap up his body. His beautiful, luxurious body. He moves quickly, running his hands through Dream hair as water also runs through it. His fingers become ablaze when they land on his pecs, rubbing soap all over as he kisses in the same way Dream did except he adds love nibbles and love bites. Creating an art piece as he lowers himself and then comes back up, nosing at Dream inner thighs for a moment. He kisses Dream again and again as he covers him in his love. He has never been good with words, but his actions are loud, louder than he has been. He hopes he is being loud enough now, especially when Dream turns and lets George trace all over his back. 

He is able to play connect the dots properly while kissing and washing Dream’s skin. He bites into flesh softly as he adds purple marks, but keeps them light, just for Dream to know for now. Kissing every mole he can find and kissing new places too. What’s the saying? Every beauty mark is a kiss from a lover in your past life? Dream must have had a lot of lovers, and George couldn’t be more happy. Dream should be loved, always, even if he is someone other than Dream. He is loveable.

He sighs once more, kissing the side of Dream’s neck before Dream grabs him and brings them both under the spray as one final rinse down. Kissing like they can't breathe, because, well, they can't. If George breathes in the water will, quite literally, drown him, so he stays under waiting until they both pull back and gasp for air.

He loves this. He loves when they get out of the shower and Dream dries him off with a towel. He loves when Dream kisses his skin as he dresses him, reiterating that he loves his hair and that he never wants him to get rid of it. He loves it when Dream pulls his clothes over George's frame because he is his and Dream is his. They are each other's and George cannot ask for anything more.

He loves when they crawl into bed together, connecting like puzzle pieces. George’s leg drapes over Dream who keeps his own legs between his one, face’s together while George draws shapes on Dream’s chest.

“How long?” George whispers.

“How long?” Dream questions.

“How long have you loved me?” he looks up, pulling back so Dream can look at him with a lovesick look, hand coming up to move loose, drying, hair out of George’s eyes.

“Years,” he answers.

“But when did you fall, fall, like what was the moment?”

Dream shakes his head, “Baby, there was no moment. I just knew I loved you and I couldn't keep it in any longer.”

George scrunches his eyebrows, “You were bursting with love for me?” he asks, voice small.

“Of course I was,” Dream answers, pulling George in to kiss his forehead. George sighs into the contact, kissing Dream’s neck before he hugs him and pulls him close.

“I think I’ve loved you since you told me you wanted to take me everywhere with you,” George whispers into Dream’s skin and Dream shivers. Hugging George as tight as he can without hurting him

He loves it, he loves it all and he never wants to let it go.

All he wanted was to love and be loved by Dream. He got his final wish in life, he got it all and now he has it in front of him. He won't squander it. He won't let it go.

“I’m never letting you go,” George says.

Dream giggles, “Good, because I don't want to let you go either.”

George nods, smiling as he takes a deep breath and then fully tries committing to sleep.

“We do have work to get back to though,” Dream murmurs and George sighs.

“Nope,” he says.

“Nope?” Dream asks, confused.

“Nope,” George answers, nipping at Dream’s neck. “You officially have a full week off. A full week to spend with me. I had already told Ken last night, so…” he pulls back, “we have plenty of time to make up for years of pining, but first,” he sticks his finger out, shushing Dream. “Sleep.”

Dream nods, happily obliging while George yawns and cuddles into him. “Sleep.”

Sleep, love, butterflies, happiness, safety, lovesickness. George has it all. He has it all.