Archive of Our Own ^beta

It had been Hannah’s idea to sign up for a dating app to begin with.  

In her defense, it had been the result of several months of George being single and fairly miserable about it, so George can’t exactly blame his friend for eventually snapping and downloading the app for him herself.  And really, George is that desperate for anything at this point; far be it from him to put up a fight.

He sits by and watches as Hannah sends pictures off her own phone to upload to George’s profile, because God knows George never takes any pictures of himself.

“You’re only doing this to make sure there are pictures of you on my profile so people will be like ooh George who’s your friend,” George accuses after Hannah uploads a third picture of the two of them at Universal.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hannah huffs sarcastically.  “Please, feel free to contribute some pictures of your own.  Go on, any picture will do.”  George rolls his eyes but backs down.  “Yeah, that’s what I thought, stupid.  Now, are you answering these or am I doing it for you?”

“Why stop now?” George shrugs, absentmindedly highlighting a piece of code to come back to when he’s paying closer attention.  It’s Friday evening, classes are done for the day and George is sitting at his desk while Hannah lounges on her stomach on his bed with his phone in her hand.  He doesn’t really need to be doing homework right now, but he figures that anything he does now is just less to worry about on Sunday night. “Seeing as how you clearly know what’s best for my love life.”

“You’re so lazy,” Hannah complains.  “I shouldn’t be doing this for you.  I should just make you be lonely forever.”

“You wouldn’t.  I’d just make myself your problem,” George points out.  “You’re doing this for you as much as you are for me.”

“So then the least you can do is send some cute guys my way if they ask about your friend,” Hannah grins, and George scoffs, but he’s smiling because they both know that he would, of course, even if he won’t admit it.

“Just get on with it,” George grumbles.

“Chill out, I’m doing it,” Hannah says, typing away quickly as he fills out what George assumes to be the basic information: 22, male, British, gay, computer science major.  He trusts that Hannah knows it all anyways, after almost four years of friendship.  Almost four years since they’d been paired together at freshman orientation for an icebreaker activity.  George had kind of loathed the whole experience—forced socialization had never been his favorite—but Hannah had been convinced from the day they met that they were destined to be best friends, and George hadn’t had the heart to brush her off.  He’s glad he didn’t.

Although, he may be rethinking that a bit when a bright phone screen—brighter than George keeps it, Hannah definitely messed with the brightness—assaults his vision and interrupts his work.

“Can I help you?” he asks, doing his best to convey his annoyance at the interruption. 

“At least some of this shit needs to come frome you, George, people are gonna know if you’re not authentic.”

“And what makes you think any of my answers would be authentic anyways?” George challenges.  “You know I don’t do this shit.”

“Then we’re wasting our time here, there are like—thousands of people on these apps.  If you don’t stand out, you’re not gonna get anywhere.  Can you at least, like…give it a shot?”

George sighs and grabs the phone, scrolling through the list of prompts on the screen.  “What even is this shit?  A dream house must include?   Do they actually expect people to talk about this stuff?”

“Then don’t pick that one if you think it’s dumb.  There’s like a hundred options there, you just wanna give people an idea of who you are.  If you really don’t want to do this you don’t have to, but–”

“No,” George interrupts with a reluctant sigh. “No, I’m sorry… fuck , I just hate this shit, y’know?  I’m out of practice.”

“I know,” Hannah nods gently, reaching out and nudging George’s shoulder with her wrist.  “You’ve had some really shitty boyfriends.  Like. astonishingly shitty.  But not everyone is gonna be like that, and you deserve to have someone, y’know?  You’re a catch.  Just let people see that.”

“Fuck off,” George grumbles, deflecting as usual from his friend’s sincerity.  “Whatever.  Let’s just…here, A friend’s review of me.  You can answer that one.  Review me.”

“That’s cheating,” Hannah scolds. “I already did my part.  Which was most of it, by the way.  Pick three questions and answer them.  By yourself.”

“Hannah,” George whines.  “I’m not that interesting.”

“You’re trying to get me to do it for you.  It’s not going to work.”

“Fine, be that way.  If you’re not going to help then you’re not allowed to look.”

“Okay George, whatever you say.”

George angles himself away to keep her from looking over his shoulder and shoots her a glare, more petulant than actually angry.  Hannah backs off, unlocking her own phone and leaving George to his task.

The questions are stupid, George stands by that, and not just because he hates talking about himself with a burning passion.  They’re cheesy, and he can’t imagine actually meeting anyone this way, but he’d promised Hannah he’d give it an actual try, and, well, George is lonely. 

Eventually, he settles on three that he thinks share just enough information without giving too much of himself away right off the bat and shoves the phone back in Hannah's direction.

Things I own that just make sense: a ukulele, a rose quartz elephant, and a rock from my last trip to Brighton beach

Biggest risk I’ve taken: leaving my family and friends in London to live in the states

The dorkiest thing about me is: I studied computer science so I could learn how to code in Minecraft

He doesn’t watch his friend read over them, though he knows that’s what Hannah’s doing.  It’s nothing she doesn’t know, George doesn't really have secrets from Hannah.  He just feels…extremely uncomfortable laying it all out like that.

“Cute,” Hannah comments after a few moments.  “Very you.  Gonna have all the other dorks on this site flocking to you in no time.”

“You’re such an idiot,” George huffs, but he’s pleased to have Hannah’s approval.

He goes back to working for a bit while Hannah continues to mess around on his phone, probably updating some settings to filter out some matches, or whatever it is dating apps do.  He’d always swore he’d never find out for himself, but, well.  Times change.

“Here,” Hannah speaks up again after a few minutes.  “I swiped through some guys for you.  Just call it a preliminary screen.  You’ve got a few matches.  I told you they’d come flocking.”

George yanks the phone back with a glare.  “That wasn’t part of the deal,” he grumbles, but there’s no real heat behind it.  To Hannah’s credit, she had managed to match with a few people in just the short period of time she’d been looking, and a quick swipe through the profiles in his message requests proves that she does have a pretty solid handle on George’s type.  “One’s messaged already,” George comments when he sees the profile that’s jumped to the top.  “Isn’t that kind of cringe?  To message that fast?  Like, what, is he just staring at the app waiting for someone to match with him?”

“You literally just made your profile like two minutes ago,” Hannah points out. “Like, he was definitely online already.  Chill out and give this whole thing a fair shot, okay?  Message him back.  Or don’t.  Just stop making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

Hannah’s right, of course, George knows it.  So he clicks on the message, and a part of him expects it to be someone hitting on Hannah after all–his friend had always been the more outgoing of the two of them–but all that’s there is a simple 

hi :) 

“He’s boring,” George grumbles, but that doesn’t stop him from responding.

hey :]

“I swear you’re intentionally difficult,” Hannah shoots back.

The guy is cute, based on the selfie serving as his primary picture.  Dirty-blonde curls tucked under a knit beanie and stubble to match, kind eyes and a sweet smile and a light smearing of freckles across his cheekbones and a ridiculous name like Dream of all things and George hopes to god this guy is more interesting than his first message suggests because he already thinks he’s developed a bit of a crush and having that ruined by some loser who can’t hold a conversation would be a total buzzkill.

i like minecraft too! never figured out the whole coding thing though :( made anything cool?

And, okay, now this George can get behind, a subconscious grin tugging at his lips as he types out a response. 

“Well?  Is he as boring as you assumed?” Hannah’s smug question jerks George from the, frankly, captivating discussion he’s having with Dream about which mob is the most annoying to deal with in survival.

“Fuck off,” George kicks blindly in the direction of the other end of the couch.

“I’ll leave you to your flirting then,” Hannah stands up and tucks her macbook back into her messenger bag.  “I’ve got Stardew plans with Sylvee.  Let me know how it goes.  Or don’t,” she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and George flips her off with the hand not actively typing a response. “And—don’t forget you can just block anyone who makes you feel weird.  Like, I know you know that, but like don’t feel like you have to talk to anyone you don’t want to just to prove a point, or whatever—”

“Obviously,” George cuts her off with a scoff.  “Believe me, I’m not wasting my time with anyone I don’t want to.  Don’t worry about me.  Seriously.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hannah gives him an easy grin, playfully ruffling George’s hair as she crosses to the door.  “See you tomorrow?”

“Hmm, maybe,” George pretends to think about it, as if they don’t catch up at some point almost every day.  Then, just to be a dick, adds, “If I haven’t replaced you with Dream by then.”

“Yeah, good luck with that, loser,” Hannah replies, completely unfazed by the threats.  “See if Dream can put up with your annoyingness for four years, then we’ll talk.  Love you.”

“Whatever,” George huffs, then lights up when he sees the reply from Dream on his lock screen.  He hears the front door open and close as he opens the app to craft another reply, not even bothering to dampen his smile with no one around to see it.

All things considered, maybe this isn’t shaping up to be such a bad idea after all.

–

It takes less than a day for Dream to suggest they meet for coffee.  They’d exchanged numbers just an hour into their conversation, also at Dream’s suggestion, and from there the messages come and go steadily until Dream claims he has to go to sleep and George is left with nothing but a stupid grin and a hammering heart over a boy he’d barely met.  Then the next morning they pick right up again and Dream proposes an actual date and George should be embarrassed by how quickly he agrees, but he’s smitten.

“Wow, he really is perfect for you,” Hannah teases when they meet for lunch in the dining hall that afternoon.  It’s easier on a Saturday, George has always believed, to just stay on campus for a quick bite and dodge the out-of-towners that take up tables at the local restaurants all weekend.  The dining halls are emptier on the weekends too, giving them more space to spread out.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” George grumbles through a mouthful of cheeseburger, barely sparing a glance up from his phone.

“You’ve managed to find like the only other person on campus who doesn’t care that there's a football game this afternoon,” she points out.  George blinks in confusion, before glancing around and making note of the school colors the few other students scattered about are all dressed in. 

“Come on,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes.  “That’s not even true.  You don’t care about football.”

Hannah gestures to her t-shirt, school logo plastered on the front.  “Yeah, but I still go to the games.  I’m meeting Sam and Sylvee and some of Sam’s friends in an hour.  Do you need help getting ready for your date?”

“It’s literally just coffee,” George points out, and finds he means it.  He usually spends a lot more time worrying before first dates, but this doesn’t feel like a typical first date.  His phone buzzes against the table with another text from Dream—a picture of his cat, Patches, sitting on a blue sweater, with the message she’s helping me pick out my outfit today :) —and George smiles softly, imagining that same blue sweater on the man whose pictures he hasn’t stopped looking at since yesterday. 

“Ugh,” Hannah scoffs, and George had almost forgotten her presence across the table from him.  “Suit yourself.  But you’d better come over later to let us know how it goes.  Unless…”

“I’m not having sex on the first date,” George huffs.  “Especially not in the middle of the afternoon.  Go have fun at your stupid football game, I’ll see you later.”

“You’d better—”

“Yes, Hannah, I will come over tonight and let you and Sylvee gossip about my thriving love life,” George rolls his eyes, crumpling the trash from his lunch into a ball that he barely resists the urge to throw at her—it’s too greasy, and even he’s not that mean.

They part ways outside the dining hall, George giving one last promise to fill her in tonight before she lets him go.  The place Dream had suggested isn’t exactly close , about a mile off campus, but George is used to walking all the way to the other side of campus for his math classes, and it’s finally started to cool off enough outside that he isn’t sweating in his black hoodie, so he doesn’t mind the walk.

He’s early, and is about to text Dream that he’s there, when his eyes fall on a broad, blonde figure hovering nervously by the door.  George slows to a stop, giving himself time to take the other man in before Dream notices him.  

He’s tall, is the first thing George notices, at least a head taller than George and the perfect height to tuck his chin over the top of George’s head when– if— they hug.  George thinks they should try it immediately.  His curls look blonder in the sunlight, lighter than the dirty blonde in the pictures on his profile but covered by the same knit beanie.  He’s wearing the same sweater his cat had been laying on earlier, and George wonders if he’ll be able to see the fine hairs leftover if he gets close enough.  His lips are turned down as he steals glances at his phone between anxious little bounces that George finds horrendously endearing.

“Hey,” George decides to put him out of his misery.  Dream startles, but lights up in recognition when he spots him.

“George!” he greets, quickly locking his phone and sliding it into his pocket.  His hands flail for a moment, like he’s not sure what kind of greeting is appropriate, before settling on extending one to shake.  George gives an amused laugh but accepts the handshake, giving Dream’s hand what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze. 

“Hi,” George repeats, softer now that he’s standing close.  He can see Dream better from here, can count every freckle and eyelash, and it makes him a bit breathless, because no picture could ever do justice to the man standing before him.  God, George is absolutely fucked .

Dream only drops his hand when he goes to open the door—like a perfect gentleman—and George’s fingers clench around nothing, already missing the warmth of the other man’s grip.  

The inside of the coffeeshop is quiet, nearly empty, and it takes George a second to remember that most of the student body is probably over at the football field right now.  It’s bright, though, welcoming in a different way than the cozy warmth that George usually associates with the coffee places near campus.  It fits the warm weather better, he thinks, a cool reprieve from the Florida sun.  

“I’m not much of a coffee person,” Dream admits as they step up to order.  “But they’ve got some killer hot chocolate.  And my roommate swears by their lattes, so you can always take his word for it if that’s your thing.”

“Actually, I don’t really like coffee, either,” George replies, scanning the chalkboard menu overhead.  “How’s the strawberry lemonade?”

“Only one way to find out,” Dream grins.  He turns to the girl standing behind the register, ends of her dark hair dyed a faded blue that matches her nails and looking surprisingly pleasant for having to work a Saturday afternoon in a college town.  “Two medium strawberry lemonades and a small hot chocolate, please,” he requests, grinning as he shoulders George out of the way when George reaches for his wallet.  George wants to protest, but Dream already has his card in the reader and is confirming the transaction before he can open his mouth to say anything, so George admits defeat on this one and makes a mental note to pick up the next tab.  Maybe it’s a bit presumptuous to assume that there will be a second date less than five minutes after meeting in person, but George can hope.  He hopes.

They pick a table in the corner, away enough from the door that they’ll have relative privacy from anyone else who comes in.  The girl behind the counter calls Dream’s name, and Dream jumps up to grab their drinks before George can ask if he needs a hand.  It’s a little funny to watch him attempt to juggle the three cups, but it gives George an excuse to stare at his hands—which are, somehow, able to wrap almost entirely around all three drinks—so he really is in no position to comment. 

The lemonade is, as it turns out, very good, and George considers himself a bit of an expert in that category. 

“The right balance of sweet and, like, tart,” he observes carefully.  He takes another sip.  “And you can taste the strawberry.  It tastes like both strawberry and lemonade, instead of just, like, sugar.”

The grin Dream is giving him is almost too much, fondness written all over his face in a way that turns George’s cheeks pink. “Yeah?  So you’d rate it pretty high then?”

“I’d say it’s a solid…” he takes another sip, making a big show of swishing it around in his mouth. “Eight-point-five out of ten.”

“Wow, only eight-point-five?” Dream feigns shocked. “I thought it was the perfect balance of sweet and tart.”

“Yeah, but there are, like, bits in it,” George explains.  “I don’t like the bits, it ruins the experience, and they get stuck in the straw.” 

“It’s called fresh , George,” Dream argues, but the grin never drops from his face and George thinks he’s only arguing to try to get George to keep talking.  It does something funny to his stomach.

“It can be fresh and not have bits,” George asserts.  “I’m just saying, the texture is what brings it down.  You wanted my expert opinion, there you go.”

“You’re right, I did want your expert opinion,” Dream agrees.  He takes another sip. “And I agree, maybe next time we can ask if they’ll do it without the bits.  Make a comparison that way.”

“Yeah, maybe,” George shrugs, pretending like he’s not overjoyed at Dream’s implication of a next time. 

“You look good, by the way,” Dream adds, when George doesn’t continue his review.  It’s far from the smoothest attempt at flirting George has ever been on the receiving end of, and it’s incredibly endearing.  He’s so earnest about it too, like he never intended to be smooth to begin with, only honest.  It’s never been George’s strong suit, openness with his own feelings, especially not so quickly after meeting someone, and as much as he wants to respond with something like you’re the most attractive person I’ve ever seen in my life or I want to know if your hands will fit all the way around my waist, he can’t come up with a single word in the English language to properly express himself without giving everything away.

But Dream must take his lack of response as discomfort with the compliment, because his expression falls a bit as he rushes to explain himself.  “I mean, like obviously, you probably get that a lot, I was just—since, yknow, how we met, I figured…is that okay?”

Even his rambling is adorable, George thinks, embarrassingly.  Dream still looks so unsure of himself, even when George can feel the soft smile spreading on his own face, and he knows he has to say something to make it stop. “I’m…I’m just wearing a hoodie,” is his brilliant response, and Dream frowns.

“You could wear anything and look good,” Dream blurts, then adds, “I’m—sorry, I haven’t done this in awhile.”  He gestures between the two of them, a bit uncertain. “I’m sorry if I’m coming on too strong or anything.  I just—I’m trying to say you’re hot.”

“ Dream ,” George’s chest constricts painfully as it pushes the syllable from his lips. “You’re—I haven’t either.  You’re not.  It’s—it’s okay.  And…you are too.”  It’s far from the most eloquent of responses, and George feels a bit stupid for how completely unable he is to flirt with the first person he has actually wanted to flirt with in quite some time, but Dream must understand, because of course he does, and his uncertain frown stretches into a soft smile and he reaches across the table, palm up in unspoken invitation.  George isn’t so dense as to mistake what it’s an invitation for, and with a shaky breath he places his hand down on top of Dream’s.  Dream squeezes, and it sends a jolt of electricity to his stomach.

“Okay?” he asks softly, and George squeezes back.

“Yeah,” he whispers.  “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Dream murmurs. “It’s okay to be nervous.  I’m nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” George scoffs instinctively, but it’s not even convincing to his own ears.  It had been easy to convince himself when he was talking to Hannah earlier that it’s not a big deal, that’s it’s just coffee with someone he met on a dating app, but sitting here across from Dream—looking into his eyes and trying not to melt on the spot—George knows he hasn’t connected like this with anyone in a long time.  He wants this to work out, whatever it is.  He wants Dream .

“Okay,” Dream agrees, allowing George the victory even if he doesn’t look like he believes him either.  “Well, if you were nervous, that would be okay.  We’re in this together, y’know?  Like, obviously we’re into each other at least a little or else we wouldn’t have swiped.”

“Obviously,” George parrots, rolling his eyes, and it makes Dream smile.  “Y’know, I didn’t even read your profile.  My friend made my account, and she swiped on a couple of people she thought were my type, and you were the first one to message.  So,” he shrugs, squeezing Dream’s hand again in the process. “She was right, for the record.  But yeah, I dunno, I don’t know what the point of that story was.”

“So you didn’t…you didn’t read anything I put on there?” Dream asks, cautious, and the warmth that’s been settled in George’s stomach all afternoon turns sour all of a sudden. 

“Not really?” It makes him nervous, the way Dream is looking at him now, and he wonders if Dream can feel the way his palms have started to sweat. “I mean, your name, and the picture on the front of your profile, but other than that, just what we’ve talked about.”

“Oh.”

George doesn’t like the look that crosses Dream’s face.  “I just figured we’d get to know each other in conversation,” he rushes to explain, and he can’t figure out why it’s such a big deal.  Surely those profiles are just meant to be, like, conversation starters.  And they’d done that all on their own!  “Like, we didn’t even need any of those stupid icebreakers, or whatever.  Isn’t that almost better?”

Dream withdraws his hand, and George almost wants to cry at the loss of contact, especially because he knows that, for some reason, Dream is upset with him.  Dream goes to his phone, unlocks it and scrolls for a bit, and George wonders if he’s texting someone to come pick him up until he flips the phone around, lit up with a picture pulled up on the screen.

George leans forward and furrows his eyebrows, studying the image in front of him.  It’s Dream, same cat beanie pulled over his curls that appear to be just a little shorter than they are now and a dark flannel covering his toned arms in a way that would make George dizzy if not for the other person in the picture, a little boy with shockingly familiar blonde curls and green eyes.

“Is that…” George trails off, not even beginning to know how to finish that sentence.  He knows, at least he thinks he does, what Dream is trying to tell him, but he can’t make himself say it.  Not without confirmation.

“My son,” Dream concludes icily, the earlier softness completely zapped from his voice and it sends a searing jolt through George’s stomach.

“Oh,” is all George can muster as the room begins to close in around him.

“Yeah,” Dream replies, and George can’t even look at him, can’t bear to see his face devoid of the gentle smile that has already become one of George’s favorite things in the world.  “I think we should go.”

Dream’s suggestion feels like a bucket of ice water and George knows he flinches with the chill.  “Yeah,” he croaks, mouth dry, and he stands up without another word.  He should say something else, probably.  Anything, anything to let Dream know that he’s not mad or upset or whatever Dream is definitely thinking right now, but words fail him, and he hides his shaking hands in his pockets as he strides out of the coffeeshop without so much as a glance behind him.

—

George is miserable, and a little pathetic.

The first thing he does when he gets back to his apartment—almost two full hours later, because the real first thing he does is put in his earbuds and crank up the volume of the music on his phone as loud as he could physically stand it, and walk —is flop backwards on his bed.  The second thing he does is text his groupchat with Hannah and Sylvee telling them to come over now, it’s an emergency.

To their credit, neither of them seem too thrown that the emergency in question involves the date George had been on that afternoon, and no sort of actual emergency.  They let themselves in, and Sylvee has ice cream from his freezer before they’ve even come to check in on him.

“What happened?” Hannah cuts to the chase.  “You were, like, infatuated with this guy this morning.”

“I still am,” George mumbles.  Frustrated tears prick at the backs of his eyes, but he quickly blinks them away.  Mostly he just feels numb.  Numb, and stupid, and upset with himself for possibly blowing what could’ve been a really good thing.

He’s not naive, he knows Dream having a kid is a big thing, and if he’s to be completely honest he’s not sure he would’ve swiped in the first place if he’d known, but they had connected so quickly, so easily, and George is already attached.  He feels the loss, in his chest just as real as against his palm.  He misses him.

“Did he do something?” Hannah questions after a brief pause.  He can practically hear the silent conversation the two of them are having over his head, and he closes his eyes to pretend it’s not happening.  “Was he, like, an asshole?  Or did he not like you?”

“No, no he was perfect,” George responds.

“Then I’m not sure I understand the problem?”

“I didn’t actually read his profile before talking to him,” George says, as though that’s an explanation.

“Why not?” Sylvee chimes in.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t,” George snaps, and he feels a little bad about it, it’s not her fault, but he’s in too sour a mood to muster an apology.  “He was one that Hannah swiped for me, and then next thing I knew we were just talking and it didn’t seem to matter that much.”

“That doesn’t sound like—”

“He has a kid,” George cuts Hannah off before she can finish her sentence.  “He has a kid, and I guess that was on his profile, which, like, makes sense, but I didn’t read that, and it didn’t come up in conversation and it just caught me off-guard, y’know?  Like how am I supposed to respond to something like that?”

“So what did you do?” Hannah asks skeptically, and George doesn’t like the judgemental look both girls are giving him.

“What do you mean what did I do,” George scoffs.  “What was I even supposed to do?  I just, like, didn’t say anything, I guess.  And then he suggested that we leave so I got up and left.”

“Oh George,” Hannah shakes her head, and George wants to scream.

“Don’t oh George me, what the hell was I supposed to do?”

“He probably thinks you’re mad at him,” Sylvee points out.  “Or, like, he scared you off.”

“Which he kinda did, to be fair,” Hannah adds.  

“He didn’t,” George argues.  He sits up and scrubs his hands over his face in frustration.  He knows how it looked.  Like, okay, clearly it wasn’t the best reaction, but George thinks he’s still owed a bit of slack here.  He just hadn’t been expecting it, is all.  Like, the idea of Dream having an entire child had never even crossed his mind from any of their conversations up until this afternoon, Dream had never given any indication of it, either, except apparently on his dating profile that George will have to make sure to read extra carefully next time.  

Fuck, he doesn’t even want a next time at this point, how is anyone going to compare to the way he clicked with Dream?

“So do you want to see him again?” Hannah asks.  “Like, knowing that he has a kid?  That changes things in a relationship, you know.”

“Yeah, I know, idiot, thanks for the insight,” George huffs.

“So?” Sylvee pushes.

“I don’t know ,” George exclaims.  “Like, obviously I do, but also what the fuck am I supposed to do?  Like a child .  I don’t know how to, like, deal with them.”

“He’s not gonna make you turn into a dad overnight,” Sylvee teases.

“Yeah, no for sure, he’ll give you until at least the third date for that.” Hannah adds, and if he wasn’t using his pillow as a backrest he would’ve thrown it at one of them.  Doesn’t really matter which one, either would’ve gotten his point across, but instead he settles for a scowl.

“Neither of you are helpful,” George points out.

“Sorry, dude, but we can’t make this decision for you,” Hannah shrugs.  “You just have to decide for yourself if it’s a dealbreaker for you.”

Yeah, George was afraid of that.

—

As it turns out, he lasts not even forty-eight hours before the ache in his chest and the pit in his stomach overwhelm him and he gives into the urge to text Dream.  It’s late, and he can’t sleep, and if Dream is really upset he can just blame it on delirium or something.  For a brief moment, he considers the possibility that Dream has already blocked his number, and then he thinks that there’s no way someone with a child would still be awake at nearly three in the morning when his phone buzzes under his palm.

hey

George tries not to let the absence of his usual smiley face hurt too much.

sup?

It’s not the most creative of texts, especially given that he had been the one to initiate the conversation, but he also doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, to really push Dream over the edge and block him for good.

nm, reading for class

it’s late,  George points out, as if Dream doesn’t know that.  Stupid.

yeah well sometimes the only time i have is after he goes to bed so

right

George really feels stupid now, conversation growing stilted in a way it hadn’t been the other day.  He hates it, hates that Dream is clearly just as uncomfortable as he is, hates that Dream might think that George hates him or something, when the complete opposite is true.

So he does the only thing he can think to do in his tired state and asks can we get coffee tomorrow? 

why?  comes Dream’s reply.  It’s better than a no, at least.

i miss you , George answers honestly. and i think we should talk at least

There’s no response for a few minutes, and with a sigh George resigns himself to tossing and turning again before he has to wake up for his noon class.  But just when he gets settled, his phone vibrates again, and he’s glad no one is around to witness the speed with which he grabs for it to check the message.

6?  same place?

Relief washes over him as he immediately agrees, making a mental note to tell Hannah in the morning that he can’t meet for dinner—he would do it now, but he’s been reminded many times that his messages go through her do not disturb for “emergencies only” and she “will not hesitate to chuck his phone out the window if he abuses that.” 

It helps him sleep, at least, the knowledge that it’s not over.  He has tomorrow, at least.

—

George considers skipping his Monday classes in favor of sitting around all day and having an existential crisis about the ensuing conversation.  He even goes so far as to ask Hannah if she can take notes for him in their shared game design class, but she just tells him he’s being ridiculous and threatens to study for the midterm with the cute football player–her words–who sits across the room from them instead of him. 

So he sucks it up and gets dressed, and only spends a few extra minutes on his hair.  It probably won’t matter six hours from now, but it feels like something he can control in the meantime, so he runs his comb through it for a few minutes just to make sure it sits right.  

He’s practically nauseous by the time the coffee shop comes into view, a horrible contrast to his giddiness a few days ago as he made the same walk, but Dream is standing outside just like before.  He looks just as nervous as before, too, pacing in front of the door with hands shoved into his pockets and lips curled into a frown that George wishes he had an excuse to kiss, and his chest throbs with the realization that he might never get to do that now.

It doesn’t feel appropriate to stop and take the time to admire him this time, so George calls his attention as soon as he’s close enough to do so without shouting.  “Dream.”

Dream jumps, as if he hadn’t been expecting anyone—which obviously George knows isn’t the case—before relaxing in recognition.  He doesn’t look mad, George observes, he actually looks about as nervous as George feels.  It should make him feel better, maybe, but it has the opposite effect as George is overcome with guilt.  He’s the reason Dream is upset.

“Hey,” Dream greets quietly.  He doesn’t extend his hand this time, doesn’t say anything at first, and George hates the awkwardness.  

“Should we…?” George suggests, nodding towards the door when it’s clear Dream isn’t going to say anything else.  Dream nods wordlessly.  He still holds the door open for George, because he’s perfect and a gentleman, and motions for George to lead them inside.  It’s a different barista today, a boy with spiky black hair and a flannel, probably a freshman, if George had to guess.  He’s much more disinterested than the girl from the other day, and George thinks he understands the misery of a Monday afternoon.  

“I’ll buy this time,” George offers.

Dream hesitates.  “You don’t have to—”

“It’s only fair, you paid last time,” he interrupts, and Dream still looks unsure, but he concedes as they step up to the counter.  George orders another strawberry lemonade, and Dream considers the menu for a second before settling on a hot chocolate.  They take the same table in the corner as before, same seats and everything, and the uncomfortable silence while they wait for their drinks makes George want to die a little. 

It’s Dream that stands up when George’s name is called, and George lets him go, absently tapping his fingers against the sides of his seat for lack of any better outlet for his nervous energy.  He’d hoped the walk over here would’ve calmed him down a bit, but sitting here with Dream just feet away he’s as jittery as he’s ever been in his life.

Not that any of this will matter in a few minutes, George thinks sourly.  Dream will be kind, he’s sure of it, but he’s under no delusions about the outcome of this conversation.  Dream can hardly look at him, eyes trained to the ground as he returns with their drinks.  They’ll be civil, but will have to go their separate ways.  George has to make peace with that, no matter how much hope he’d had for—them.

“Thank you,” George says a little belatedly, pushing the plastic cup back and forth between his hands.  He doesn’t know if he means for grabbing the drinks or for agreeing to meet him.  Both, probably.  

Dream nods, like he understands.  “So you wanted to…?”

“Yeah,” George breathes.  He squeezes his eyes shut, stalling as he composes himself.  “I just…I wanted to apologize, I guess,” he begins.  “I don’t—I’m sorry if it seemed like I was upset, or judging you or whatever,  I was just…really caught off guard, y’know?  Which was also my fault, but,” he shrugs. “Yeah, I’m sorry.  I just wanted to make sure you knew that.  That I wasn’t upset or anything.”

“I wasn’t either,” Dream replies, then makes a face, before adding, “or, okay, I’m not upset.  I kind of was the other day, but I know I overreacted, and I don’t, like, blame you for anything.”

“It’s okay if you are upset,” George assures him.  “Like, I’m the idiot who didn’t bother reading your profile.”

“Well, yeah,” Dream rolls his eyes, and just the hint of a smile fills George with a sense of ease he’d been missing since Saturday.  “But it’s—I dunno, it’s cute that you were so dedicated to our connection that you never even thought to check.”  It’s teasing, and George’s cheeks flame at the endearment.

“Shut up,” he scoffs, but there’s no heat to it.  “Idiot.  You’re the one who just never, like, mentioned having a whole entire child in any of our conversations.”

“Oh, yeah, my bad, I should’ve brought him up while we were talking about fucking Minecraft plugins or something,” Dream shoots back.  The corners of his eyes crinkle, and George thinks he could make a home there.

“Yeah, you should’ve,” George confirms.  “But you didn’t, so.  Tell me now?”

Dream tilts his head in surprise, like he hadn’t expected George to ask.  Like he hadn’t expected George to care.   It reminds him of something Dream had said the other day, about how he hasn’t done this in awhile.   He wonders if it’s because Dream hasn’t felt like he can.  George wants to prove him wrong.

“What do you want to know?” he asks.

“Whatever you want me to know.”

It’s not the answer Dream was expecting, that much is clear from his hesitation before he speaks, but George knows it was the right thing to say because Dream’s face lights up the moment he starts talking about his son.

“Okay, well, his name’s Evan, he’s two-and-a-half, turning three in February.  He—his mom is,” Dream’s face contorts in a way that would make George giggle in different circumstances.  “Not in the picture, obviously.  Or, I guess not obviously, but she wanted to go away for school and didn’t really want a kid, so.”  He shrugs and offers a small grin that George easily returns.  “No bad blood or anything.  High school girlfriend.  Life happens.”

Life happens feels like such a dismissive way to describe such a huge change, but now almost three years on George figures he must be used to it.  

“I can’t imagine doing both,” George admits.  He’s staring a bit, trying to picture it.  Dream as a dad.  Dream with a kid.  He’s soft, so kind and gentle, George thinks he must be a good dad.  He wonders if he’ll ever have the chance to see it for himself.  “Like, school is already hard enough without a kid.  I don’t know how you manage it.”

“Well, I have a lot of help,” Dream replies.  “My parents are close by, so that’s been, like, huge obviously.  I wouldn’t have survived this long without them.  And my roommate helps with a lot of the day-to-day stuff.  Like last minute babysitting when a guy I met on a dating app wants to meet for coffee on a Monday night to apologize for freaking out on our first date.”  He’s teasing, but it still makes George feel bad.  Especially when he realizes that he hadn't even considered the logistics of childcare when he asked Dream to meet today.

“Sorry,” George winces sheepishly, but Dream just shakes his head.

“Don’t be.  It’s worth it.  I’m—I’m glad you texted me,” he admits.  “Like, I probably wasn’t going to, to be honest, so, y’know, I’m glad you did.”

“Well, good,” George hums.  “Then I’m glad too.  Since clearly someone needed to take charge here.”

“Oh, is that what this is?  You taking charge?”

“Yeah, clearly,” George confirms.  “You’re welcome, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Dream mocks.  His foot nudges against George’s under the table, and one of them hooks their ankles together.  George will never admit if it was him or Dream.  

Dream turns serious, then, sighing and scrubbing a hand down his face before gripping his warm cup between both palms, grounding him.  “I just…I need to know what you want, I guess.  Like, I’m not gonna tell you it’s all or nothing, or anything like that.  I don’t want you to feel like you have to commit to anything you don’t want.  I—I really like you,” he admits, softly like it’s a confession, and even though it’s not the first time he’s said it, warmth blooms in the pit of George’s stomach like he’s the one with a hot drink.  “I want…whatever you want here, basically.  But I can’t deal with any more crises over Evan.  I’m his dad before I’m anything else.”

“Of course, yeah,” George agrees quickly.  “I wouldn’t—I don’t have a problem with that.  I promise, I’m…I’m good.”

“Okay,” Dream smiles, shoulders visibly relaxing.  “Okay, cool, that’s…good.  And we…?”

“I’m all in,” George answers immediately, and it surprises himself even how much he means it.  But he knows himself, and he’s getting to know Dream, and he can’t let something like this go so soon.  He likes Dream, he wants to spend more time with him and, maybe, if he’s lucky, if Dream allows, he wants to know every part of his life.  “I’m in, as much as you want me.”

“I’m in too, then,” Dream confirms.  Even if George hadn’t been looking at him, studying every inch of his face as the happiness radiated from it—from his smile, from his eyes, from his cheeks, from the crinkle of his nose—it would’ve come through in his voice anyways.  It drips from every word, and that alone makes everything worth it, George thinks.  He wants to be the one to make Dream smile like this every day.  “I’m so in.”

“So in,” George parrots. “Idiot.”

“You agreed to go out with this idiot.  Again,” Dream reminds him, and, well, yeah, George supposes he has a point there.

“Hmm, well, guess idiots are my type then.”

“Lucky me,” Dream replies, and George just shakes his head with a grin.

If anything, he’s the lucky one, lucky that Dream is giving him a chance, lucky that Dream sent him a message, lucky that Hannah stole his phone and set up the stupid dating profile to begin with.  Everything that’s brought him here, to Dream.  

—-

Midterms approach more quickly than George would like.   Between their classes, George tutoring, and Dream, well, having a literal child, the time they have to spend together isn’t nearly as much as George would like. 

They spend a lot of time at the coffee shop that George has discovered is close to Dream’s apartment, and he’s always more than happy to make the trek over there since he knows it makes it easier for Dream to get away if he stays close.  Sometimes, when they’re both on campus during the day, they eat together in one of the cafeterias between the computer science building and the English building, which is how he, inadvertently, ends up introducing Dream to Hannah and Sylvee one day.

In their defense, he hasn’t exactly been tight-lipped about their plans, so it’s not hard for them to track him down.  He’s also extremely predictable, and Hannah knows his schedule by heart, so it shouldn’t be a surprise when the two girls plop down next to them—Sylvee to George’s left, Hannah across from her and next to Dream—as soon as they’re seated with their burgers.  

George levels Hannah with a glare.  “Can I help you?” he asks.  She looks back at him with wide-eyed innocence that George sees straight through.

“Who, me?” she asks, smirking around a sip from her water bottle.  “We’re just eating lunch, right Sylvee?”

“Yeah, didn’t know that was illegal,” Sylvee scoffs.  George elbows her side.  “Are you going to introduce us to your friend?”

“No,” George deadpans, at the same time as Dream responds, “I’m Dream.”

“They know who you are, they’re just being idiots,” George huffs.  Dream looks between the three of them with a confused head tilt that George always thinks makes him look like a golden retriever puppy, before recognition dawns on his face.

“Oh, you must be Hannah and Sylvee,” Dream concludes, much more enthusiastically than George personally thinks the presence of his friends warrants.  “George has told me so much about you.”

“All bad things,” George adds.

“Shut up,” Hannah dismisses.  “George hasn’t told us nearly enough about you.  He’s always so secretive about everything.”

“I’m not secretive.” he defends.  “Just don’t see why it’s any of your business.”

“Sorry, I’ve been kinda busy lately,” Dream says sheepishly.  “So I’ve probably been stealing a lot of his free time too.”

“Don’t apologize, I like you better than them anyways,” George pouts, but cracks a grin when Dream nudges his foot under the table.

“Aww, you guys are so cute,” Sylvee gushes.  “Fine, I forgive you for gatekeeping.  But from now on you have to tell us everything.”   Hannah nods in agreement, and George rolls his eyes.

“I don’t, actually.   Maybe I’ll even stop telling you when we’re getting lunch so you don’t have the chance to stalk me.”

“It’s not stalking when I have your literal location,” Hannah points out. 

“I’ll block your number,” George threatens.  “I can remove location permissions any time I want.”

“You’re too nosy, and you know I would just block your perms too,” Hannah dismisses, reaching across the table to steal one of George’s fries.  He tries to bat her hand away, but Sylvee takes the opportunity to grab one of her own.  George is about to complain when Dream holds out a fry from his own basket for George, and his cheeks heat up at the thoughtfulness of the gesture as he accepts the offering.  

“I’ll have more time once midterms are done,” Dream interrupts their bickering.  “I would love to all hang out together.”

“No he wouldn’t,” George counters, sticking his tongue out at Dream, when the other man raises an eyebrow at him.  “He hates you, actually.”

“You’re so dumb,” Dream replies, the insult sounding more like an endearment.  “Of course I want to get to know your friends.  You’re gonna get to know mine too, right?”

And George knows he’s not just talking about Sapnap, his roommate who’s been putting in extra babysitting hours for the two of them to have more time together.  

“Whatever,” he huffs, rather than conceding that yeah, he wants to intertwine their lives in every way they can, to share friends and—and family. 

It comes a little over a month later, right between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  If George had thought midterms were busy, the weeks leading up to finals are a nightmare.  It’s the time of the semester where George always curses himself for the number of courses he decided to take in the name of double-majoring, because he feels like he practically lives at the library. 

Dream takes mercy on him and meets him there nearly every day, without fail, equipped with mini bottles of apple juice and apple slices—the ones prepackaged from the store, because George claims they taste better than fresh cut slices—and cheese and crackers and a firm chest that George has become an expert at taking power-naps on while occupying the beanbag chairs at the back of the third floor.  

Dream doesn’t even need to come to campus most days now, his English classes had papers due before finals week, which means that his semester is already winding down while George is on the brink of death.  And instead of relaxing at home with his two-year-old son, Dream makes the walk to campus every afternoon just to talk George down from yet another breakdown.  George really doesn’t know what he did to deserve Dream.

“When was the last time you had an actual meal, baby?” Dream murmurs gently, his arm around George’s shoulder shifting so he can press his lips to the top of George’s head.  George holds up the little sandwich he’s made with the cheese slices and ritz crackers Dream brought him today.  “Nothing that I’ve brought you to eat in the library counts as an actual meal, George,” Dream frowns—George doesn’t even have to look at his face to know that’s what he’s doing—and thinks for a moment while George takes another bite of his perfectly acceptable lunch.  “Come over for dinner tomorrow night,” he suggests, finally. 

George almost chokes on a cracker in surprise.  “Mmm?”

Dream scoffs fondly, fingers scratching at the back of George’s head in the way Dream knows makes him absolutely melt.  It works, and George deflates into his side, tucking his head under Dream’s chin.  “Come over for dinner tomorrow,” he repeats.  “I can cook for you, or something.  Have you even had a home-cooked meal all semester?”  

George doesn’t bother answering, because they both know that he definitely has not.  “Are you sure?” he replies instead, because they both know what Dream is really asking.  George has never been to Dream’s apartment before.  Any time they spend together is usually on or around campus, or, very rarely, at George’s apartment when they want a little extra privacy.  

It’s gone unspoken that Dream’s place is off-limits, and George understands it completely.  They’ve only been together a few months, practically nothing in the grand scheme of things.  George is no expert in taking care of a child but he can’t imagine Dream would want to introduce anyone to Evan that he doesn’t think will stick around permanently.

So his invitation is kind of a big deal, and he knows it’s not meant to but it’s already stressing him out a little bit.

“I’m sure,” Dream answers, and he sounds sure, a lot more sure than George feels.  “As long as that’s something you’re comfortable with?  I don’t want to make you more stressed or anything, I just thought, y’know, it might be nice.”

And it would be nice, George thinks.  It’s what he’s always wanted, ever since they met.  The domesticity, the precious knowledge that Dream trusts him with the most important parts of himself, the quiet evenings spent wrapped up in each other with no rush for either of them to get to class.  It makes something warm spread through his chest and up to his cheeks as his lips push into a lazy smile.

“Mhm,” he agrees, closing his eyes right where he is.  “Okay.”

“Hey, c’mon, baby, you’re almost done here, right?  Wouldn’t you rather sleep in your nice, cozy bed?” Dream asks, clearly trying to encourage him to sit up, but the low timbre of his voice only serves to lull George closer to peace right then and there.

“No,” he shakes his head, then pats Dream’s chest for emphasis.  “This is better.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Dream huffs, but he makes no further move to disturb him.  

It’s a little silly how giddy being around Dream makes him feel.  For all his attempts at indifference whenever the topic comes up, especially around the girls, George loves romance.  All he’s ever wanted was a boy to hold his hand and send him good morning texts and memorize his favorite foods and drinks to surprise him throughout the day and kiss him whether anyone is watching or not, and, somehow, he has all that and more.  

He’s far and away the best partner George has ever had, not that the bar for that is very high, and that knowledge alone just makes everything feel even more significant somehow.  He’d meant it, that first day, when he said that he was in.  He wants everything, and every moment with Dream just becomes one more that George can add to his collection, a box in his mind to document life with Dream so that he doesn’t forget even a second of it.

He’s in.  That’s what’s on George’s mind as he carefully climbs to the second floor of the building Dream had directed him to.  He didn’t come by this afternoon, which hadn’t been surprising but still did nothing to fill the void created in George’s day by a lack of Dream time, so by five o’clock he’s feeling a bit needy.

This isn’t about me, he reminds himself as he raises a fist to knock on the door.  Whatever Evan needs.

He taps three times, trying not to cause too much noise just in case, and it takes a minute where George wonders if perhaps he hadn’t been heard at all before the door swings open in front of him.  The man standing there is definitely not Dream—almost a head too short with auburn hair covered by a baseball cap—and George worries he’s at the wrong place, but the man standing in front of him catches on first.

“Oh, it’s you,” he acknowledges, before calling over his shoulder, “Dream, your boyfriend’s here!”  The clatter that comes from somewhere inside the apartment is almost comical, and then Dream skids into view, nearly tripping over his own socked feet in the process.

“Hi!” he greets enthusiastically, pulling George in for a kiss before he can get a word out in response.  The other man—Sapnap, certainly—makes a noise of disgust from behind them, but when they separate again George can see his smile.

“Hey,” George murmurs.  “Am I early?”

“Never,” Dream promises.  “Sapnap was just getting ready to head out for the night, and I’m finishing Evan’s dinner.  You can take your shoes off if you want?”

George does so, bending down carefully to untie his sneakers and slip them off, kicking them off to the side enough that they won’t be in the way of anyone trying to come or go.  He then hangs his jacket on one of the hooks near the door before trailing in the direction Dream had disappeared to.

He doesn’t get far when he’s stopped by a hand on his forearm.

“Listen, we’ll have time to get to know each other better soon, but in the meantime just know that if you do anything to fuck this up with either of them, I will fuck your shit up so hard,” Sapnap threatens, and he’s not the least bit intimidating but George still understands the seriousness behind his words.

“Promise,” George swears, then adds with a smirk, “Are you sure that’s the sort of language you should be using with children in the house?”

“You’re a shit,” Sapnap scoffs.  “I like you.  I like him!” he calls in the direction of the kitchen.  “Okay, I’m leaving, have fun, good luck,  make good choices, all that shit!”

And then he’s gone, and it’s just George and Dream.  And Dream’s son. 

Dream’s moving around in the kitchen, dressed in black joggers and a gray t-shirt that already has a small marinara stain on it from the pot George can see heating on the stove.  The sight is so domestic that George feels his heart twist in his chest.

And then something comes crashing into his leg, and it brings George crashing back to reality.

The boy staring up at him is a striking image of Dream, even more apparent in person than in the numerous pictures he’s seen.  Their eyes are the exact same shade of green, their hair the same dirty-blond curls, they even tilt their heads in the exact same way when they’re confused, and George is frozen in the kitchen doorway as his brain tries to decide what to do next.

Dream saves him the trouble by kneeling to the ground, getting on Evan’s level, and opening his arms to him.

“Hey buddy, c’mere, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Evan scampers to the familiarity of his father’s side, tiny hand curled around the hem of Dream’s t-shirt as he studies George shyly.  George, for his part, feels so out of his element under the scrutiny of a child.  As the youngest in his family, George hasn’t spent much time around kids since he was one himself, and he’s completely lacking in whatever instincts might guide him to do anything but stand here and stare back.  

He worries that Dream might think he’s stupid or something, or will take George’s discomfort as a red flag and tell him to leave and never come back, but Dream’s full attention is on Evan right now.

“This is George.  Can you say hi?”  Evan shakes his head, but a small smile tugs at his lips, like he’s trying to be a little bit difficult.  Dream catches on instantly, because of course he does.  “C’mon,” he encourages, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him still while his other hand tickles Evan’s belly, causing him to burst into giggles.  “Be polite and say hi to Georgie, bud.”

“Hi Gogy,” Evan gasps in between peals of laughter. 

“Hi Gogy,” Dream parrots with a smirk, and George can’t help a huff of laughter himself.  

“Hi Evan,” he replies softly, a bit hesitant as he takes a step closer.  Matching pairs of green eyes follow his movement, and it should be unnerving but George is so enamored by them both that it almost makes him burst into tears on the spot.  “It’s nice to meet you.  Your dad has told me lots about you.”

“Evan likes hugs, don’t you baby,” Dream prompts.  He keeps an arm around Evan’s shoulders, but his eyes are on George now, soft and encouraging, gauging George’s reaction.  “Wanna give Gogy a hug?”

“Uh-huh,” Evan nods, extending his arms as Dream lets him toddle the handful of steps left to where George stands frozen.  Dream nods at him, and it takes him a second to understand the instruction, but eventually he kneels down to Evan’s level, too, just as he’s met with an armful of enthusiastic two-year-old. “Hi Gogy,” he giggles again.

“Hi Evie,” George replies, the nickname falling naturally from his tongue.

“See?  Everyone’s friends now,” Dream teases as he rises to his feet, brushing imaginary dirt from the tops of his sweats.  He then bends down to scoop Evan into his arms with an ease that makes George feel a bit dizzy.  He’s not a huge kid by any means, but Dream lifts him like he weighs nothing at all, and George has to remind himself of just where they are before his thoughts stray too far.  “You ready for din-dins, bud?”

“No,” Evan responds again, shaking his head with a pout as he tries to twist around to face George instead.  George feels a pang of guilt, that his presence here is interrupting their routine, but Dream is unfazed as he straps him into his booster seat anyways.

“Gogy can help you eat if you sit nicely for me, okay?”  He pauses for a moment, giving Evan a chance to obey or not, and it seems like it works because while Evan is still glaring—an expression George is only too familiar with from Evan’s dad—he’s stopped trying to struggle away, and George takes that as his cue to stand up too.

“I don’t really know how—” he tries, but Dream brushes him off as pasta is scooped onto a small plastic plate.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assures him.  “He can eat by himself, just sit next to him and keep him company.  He just likes attention.”

“Wonder where he gets that from,” George teases, laughing at the look of indignation on Dream’s face as he takes the chair next to Evan.

“Fork, buddy,” Dream reminds him as he delivers the meal, and George expects him to sit down on Evan’s other side to provide some actual supervision, but he’s surprised when Dream takes the seat next to him instead.  He hooks his chin over George’s shoulder and wraps an arm around his waist, and George is extremely aware of the fact that they’re not alone, but Evan’s focus is entirely on the penne in front of him as he attempts to get it from the plate to his mouth using the plastic utensil Dream had given him.

It’s so dizzyingly domestic, George thinks, as he reaches over with a napkin to wipe some sauce from the top of Evan’s cheek—he’s never understood how kids manage to get food in the places they do, but he figures now is not the time to ask such questions—and he feels Dream’s breath catch from how close he’s pressed to George’s back.  He’s out of his element for sure, but he could sit here listening to Evan babble about a spaghetti bird that comes and steals his noodles forever.  

George even helps him wipe his hands and face when he’s done, lifting him from the seat as Dream takes care of the dishes.  He’d really just intended to help Evan out of his seat, but when little arms wrap around his neck George doesn’t think there’s a man alive who could put him down.

Dream turns around at the sink, and George feels his cheeks heat up at the way Dream melts at the sight of them.  Dream has never been stingy with his emotions, everything he feels is written all over his face, his heart bared to the world, so the fondness isn’t unfamiliar sight to George, but having that look directed at him when he has Dream’s son in his arms adds another layer to the warmth in his chest.

He’s spent a lot of time over the past few months thinking about what Dream is like as a parent.  He’s seen glimmers of it come through in other parts of Dream’s personality, in the way he cares and provides, but nothing he could’ve imagined can compare to the reality of seeing Dream with his son tonight.  It makes him think, though, how often over the past few months has Dream imagined this? 

“He needs a bath,” Dream informs him, and they both ignore the thickness in his voice.

“Right, yeah, of course,” George replies.  “Should I just—”

“You can help, if you want,” Dream suggests, shy, like he thinks there’s any world where George would reject such an offer.  “You don't have to, obviously, if it’s too much, but you can.  Whatever you’re—”

“ Dream ,” George cuts him off gently.  “I’d like that a lot.  I want to.  Show me how?”

Dream lights up, swooping in to press a kiss to his lips with seemingly no care for the two-year-old still clinging to George’s neck.  It makes something inside of him soar.  “Okay,” Dream murmurs against his lips, before pulling back to kiss the top of Evan’s head too.  “That okay with you, Ev?  Can Gogy help us get ready for bed tonight?”

“Yes!” Evan squeals—a bit too loudly—into George’s ear.  Dream laughs at George’s grimace and gestures for George to follow him down the hall.  The master bedroom is all the way at the end, furthest from the kitchen, past a bathroom and two rooms with their doors closed that George assumes are the other bedrooms, and George thinks maybe it should be weird that the first time he’s seeing his boyfriend’s room is to help bathe his kid, but he’s long since adjusted to the uniqueness of their relationship.  

“Does the other bathroom not have a tub?” George asks as Dream flicks the light on.  He sets Evan down and watches as he scurries off to pick out his toys for that day while Dream turns the water on, leaving George standing awkwardly by himself in the middle of the room.

“Hmm?  Oh, no, it does,” Dream answers after a few moments, and George had almost forgotten he’d asked a question.  “But I figured it’s more fair for Sapnap to have his own bathroom at least.  I tried to get him to take the master but he just kept talking about wanting to be closer to the kitchen,” he chuckles fondly, a smile on his face at the mention of his friend.  

George knows they must be incredibly close for Sapnap to be the one to live here with Dream and Evan, and it’s always so obvious in the way Dream talks about him just how much love and respect he has for Sapnap.  Their brief encounter in the hallway earlier tonight wasn’t enough, George wants to get to know him, too.  With any luck, if tonight goes as well as he thinks it’s going, they’ll have plenty of chances.  “But I know he really just wanted to give me the extra privacy.  Which is ridiculous, because if anything you’d think he’d be the one who wants extra privacy here, but no.  He’s an idiot.”

“He seems nice,” George says, which feels like an understatement.  “He seems like a good friend.”

“The best,” Dream agrees.  “He’s like my brother, isn’t that right, Evie?  We love Uncle Sapnap, don’t we?”

“Sapsap!” Evan agrees enthusiastically.  

“Yeah, Sapsap,” Dream laughs. “Or Napnap, or Napsap.  Sometimes we get lucky and end up with Sapnap, but for some reason that seems to be the least likely option.”

“Maybe he’s doing it on purpose,” George suggests with a grin.  “Maybe he knows that you find it funny and intentionally says the wrong ones.” 

“Honey, he’s two, I don’t think he’s thinking that far in advance.”

“Sounds like you’re just jealous your baby’s smarter than you,” he teases.  “Don’t worry, Evie, I understand you.”  He shoots Evan a wink, and Evan laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen.  “See?  We’re on the same wavelength.”

“I do see that,” Dream replies, and George knows he’s trying to play into the joke but he just can’t help sounding so fond when he says it, and if George was feeling a little less sappy himself he might call him out on it, but right now it’s taking all he has not to wrap himself in his boyfriend’s arms and stay there for the rest of the night, bathtime be damned. 

The bath itself is way more of a process than George had expected it to be, honestly.  In his defense, he has never bathed a two-year-old.  Hell, he himself probably hasn’t taken a bath since he was about five—a fact which nearly appalls Dream, who is apparently the biggest bath fan there is—and he really doesn’t remember this much…mess.

Evan has barely slid into the tub when a wave of soapy water cascades in their direction, and Dream scolds him gently, telling him to be careful, but it’s hardly any use, and both of their t-shirts are soaked in mere minutes.  At least Evan is having the time of his life, showing George his lineup of Minecraft-themed rubber ducks and babbling happily to himself while Dream gets to work washing his hair.  

George is more of a passive participant, completely clueless and not wanting to accidentally get in the way, but he takes careful note of everything Dream does—the way he shields Evan’s eyes to rinse his hair, the way he squeezes out the washcloth extra hard before wiping his face—for next time.  

Dream stands him up and uses the detachable shower head to give him one final rinse as the water drains, and George grabs the kid-sized towel from the rack behind him.  He holds it out for Dream, but he just shakes his head with a grin.  “Open it up for him, you’ll like this part.”

George furrows his brow in confusion, but unfolds the towel and holds it in front of himself as Dream instructed, and next thing he knows Evan is crashing into him again, soaking wet and giggling and shivering, and it’s instinctive to wrap his arms around him to help him warm up.  He’s dripping all over George’s clothes, but George finds he doesn’t mind in the slightest, not when Evan is so sweet and happy.

“Hi buddy,” George greets softly.  “You all clean now?”

“Gogy!” is the cheerful response, and George thinks it’s his favorite thing he’s ever been called.

“I can grab some stuff for you to change into if you want,” Dream offers, motioning to George’s soaking t-shirt.  “I’m just gonna put him to bed and then we’ll eat.”

George agrees, both because his clothes are already beginning to feel uncomfortable, and because spending the rest of the night in one of Dream’s shirts sounds like his idea of heaven. 

“Do you want me to clean up anything in here?” George asks, glancing around at the water still pooled on the floor in places.  Dream waves him off.

“Nah, it’s tile, it’ll dry on its own.  It’s seen way worse,” he replies before bending down to scoop Evan—towel and all—up with one arm.  “Alright, mister.  Jammies and bed, you already got an extra long bath so I don’t want to hear any arguing tonight, you got it?”

“ Noooo,” comes Evan’s predictable whine.  Dream’s a stronger man than him, because one look at his big, sad eyes and George thinks he would fold like a napkin, but Dream gives no reaction to the disagreement except to hold him a bit tighter so he doesn’t wiggle away.

George stands carefully and peels off his socks, which he probably should’ve taken off from the beginning, and Dream whistles at him as he backs out of the room.

“Ooh, feet reveal, things are getting serious,” Dream teases, and George barely resists the urge to give him the finger.  He does throw a wet sock at his leg, though, careful not to hit Evan in the crossfire.

“You’re such a freak, oh my god, what is wrong with you?” he laughs.  “Go put your son to bed.”

“Fine, idiot,” Dream replies, kicking the sock back at him.  “Just pick something out from my closet to wear, whatever you’ll be comfy in.”

It’s a dangerous request, one that makes George’s heart start pounding as he’s left alone in his boyfriend’s room.  He undresses down to his boxers first, crossing his arms against the chill, then cautiously slides open the closet door.  He has permission, but it still feels weird snooping around in here by himself.  He’s so comfortable with Dream by now, just being in his presence makes George feel at ease, but that doesn’t translate to Dream’s space just yet.  This is uncharted territory.

But on the plus side, he has unfettered access to his boyfriend’s hoodie collection, which he thinks is a dream come true for anyone in his position.  He knows before looking which one he wants, solid black with a smiley face on the front that he always tells Dream looks silly, but Dream maintains is one of his favorites.  It’s big on Dream, which means it falls halfway down George’s thighs and covers his hands entirely.  He pairs it with a pair of gray basketball shorts, figuring any pants Dream has would be a safety hazard for him, and quietly slinks back down the hall.

He tries to tiptoe, not sure what stage of the bedtime process Evan is at and not wanting to keep him up any later, but the door is cracked open and Dream stops him before he can get too far.

“Hey,” he calls quietly.  “Wanna come say goodnight?”

The room is dim, lit only by a nightlight near the door, but it’s enough to make out the two of them curled together on the toddler-sized bed.  Dream has to twist kind of awkwardly to fit, and it can’t be comfortable at all, but Dream doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“Gogy!” Evan squeals, reaching for him as soon as he comes into view, and Dream shushes him gently.

“Hi buddy,” George murmurs, and Dream moves his legs to make room for George on the bed.  It’s a tight fit, the bed certainly not designed to fit this many people, but it feels so cozy and nice that George wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.  “Are you ready to sleep?”

“No,” Evan mumbles, but he’s already halfway there as his eyes begin to droop shut.

“I think you are,” George whispers, rubbing gentle circles into his side.  “I think someone’s a sleepy boy.”

“No,” he tries to argue again, with even less force behind it this time.

“G’night, Evan,” George murmurs, and Dream leans down to press a kiss to his forehead before carefully standing up.  George hesitates, unsure of what’s allowed of him here, before deciding to follow Dream’s example with a gentle peck of his own.  Dream’s waiting for him at the door to the hallway, waiting to pull him in for the tightest hug George thinks he’s ever experienced, which is saying a lot given how spectacular Dream’s hugs usually are.

“You are amazing,” Dream’s voice is muffled against the top of his head.  “I’m serious, you are incredible, holy shit.”

“Was that…okay?” George asks hesitantly, desperate for the assurance despite Dream’s actions all night.  

“ Baby,” Dream murmurs.  He pulls back just enough to cup George’s cheek, forcing eye contact.  George is well used to being on the receiving end of Dream’s gently smiles and fond eyes, he likes to think he’s done a decent job of developing an immunity to it in order to keep functioning under his adoring gaze, but one thing he’s not expecting are the tears gathering in the corners of Dream’s eyes.  “You’re so— fuck— you’re perfect, I’ve never…” he trails off to kiss him, squeezing his eyes shut against the rush of emotions and George feels those same emotions bubbling up in his own chest, threatening to spill over his every thought.  Instead of saying it, he just pours everything possible into the kiss, wraps an arm around Dream’s neck to hold him closer.  

Me too, me too, me too.

“I think this is the best night of my life,” Dream whispers against his lips as they part.  “Having you both here…seeing how you…just— thank you.”

George responds with another kiss, scratching gently at the base of his scalp to soothe him.  He holds him and lets himself be held, lets Dream ride the wave of emotions free of judgment or pressure until he’s composed himself enough to lead them back to the kitchen.

“I know I promised you a home-cooked meal,” Dream begins turning his back to George to dig through the fridge.  “But is pasta okay?  I’ve even got turkey meatballs from Trader Joes if we’re feeling extra fancy.”

“Ooh, fancy meatballs,” George smirks, and it takes Dream a second to get the joke, which just makes it even funnier to George when he freezes. 

“You're such an idiot,” he scoffs.  “Fine, maybe I won’t make you dinner.  See if I care.”

“You mean you don’t want to give me your fancy meatballs?” he tries for a pout, but he can’t even come close to keeping a straight face at Dream’s exasperation.  “Sounds homophobic.”

“You’re—fuck you, whatever,” Dream grumbles, turning around to fill up a pot with water to boil.  George takes the opportunity to come up behind him and wraps his arms around Dream’s waist, forehead landing just between his shoulder blades.  Dream tenses in surprise, but relaxes so quickly into the contact, and George loves the way they slot so perfectly together.

“You look really good in my hoodie, by the way,” Dream murmurs after a few moments of comfortable silence.  The pasta is in the water, and Dream has poured some jarred sauce into a second pan with the frozen meatballs with George still clinging to his back, and it’s not much but it’s the most luxurious feast George could ever ask for.  “Like, it’s so fucking distracting I feel like I’m going insane from how beautiful you look tonight.”

“Sounds like someone wants my meatballs,” George deflects from the compliment, but it doesn’t work this time beyond a gentle swat on the arm.

“Seeing you with him…seeing you in my clothes…like, you know I always think you’re hot, I tell you that, like, every day.”  It’s true, Dream has never been shy about his attraction to George, and Goerge finds their flirtatious banter easier to reciprocate than earnest, emotional conversations, so he’s made it pretty clear how attractive he finds Dream too.  “But I am being completely serious when I say this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.”

“Don’t start crying again, idiot,” George scoffs, but soothes the brusqueness with a tender kiss at the base of his neck that says more than his words ever could.

“You try introducing your kid to your boyfriend,” he pouts, covering George’s hands on his stomach with one of his own, the one not stirring the pasta, and squeezing.  “I’m all over the place today, okay?  It’s like…an emotional rollercoaster.”

“I know,” George murmurs with another kiss to the same place, words pressed against his skin.  “Thank you for letting me be here.”

“I always want you here,” Dream replies easily.  “Stay?”

He means the night, but George knows he doesn’t just mean tonight.  Are you going to stay in our lives?  Am I going to have to explain to him where you went?

“Of course,” is George’s natural answer to all of it.  “Always.”

Always and forever, he means.  I’m all in.  

He’s never been so sure of that as he is in this moment.

—

It’s like the final barrier between them has finally been torn down, because George now spends more time at Dream’s than he does at his own place.  Winter break is usually a lonely affair, plane tickets to London are expensive this time of year and his family has never done much to celebrate anyways, so he’s never seen the point.  But campus clears out quickly as exams draw to a close, and he’s left with nothing but his computer and two weeks to kill.

He’s lucky that Hannah’s parents live close at least, and she’s always more than happy to make the drive back up in between family events to keep him company for a bit.  He would never admit to her just how much it means to him, how having her there between semesters their freshman year had been the only thing that kept him from succumbing to loneliness and moving back to London for good.  

He’s glad he didn’t, obviously, not the least because it’s led to where he is now, waking up to light filtering in from now-familiar curtains with a just-as-familiar weight crashing onto his stomach.  It’s not the most peaceful way to wake up, but it’s George’s favorite.

Sapnap has gone back to Texas for the holidays, and George had assumed that Dream would want to go stay with his parents for a bit, but his boyfriend had, surprisingly, shrugged the idea off.  “We see them all the time anyways, no reason to disrupt our routine,” he’d explained.  As the beneficiary of Dream and Evan staying home, George is certainly in no position to complain.

“ Mmph,” Dream grunts, breath fluttering against George’s neck.  His arms wrap more tightly around George’s stomach, pulling him closer, but even he’s no match for Evan after sunrise.

“Bekfast,” he demands, smacking at George’s chest with his tiny palm.  George squeezes his eyes shut, feigning sleep, but his grin gives him away. “ Bekfast.”

George pulls Evan in then, giggling and pounding on his chest in half-hearted protest as he feels Dream begin to stir behind him.

“Ev, leave Gerogie alone, go back to sleep,” he grumbles.  In his defense, they’d been up late the night before marathoning The Hunger Games after putting Evan to bed.  They would definitely need a nap later whenever Evan takes his, but it was so worth it to George, absolutely nothing compares to the comfort of lying on the couch with his head pillowed on his boyfriend’s chest for hours at a time, Dream’s arms enveloping him in warmth and gentle care as he dozed.  

Dream had carried him to bed after the credits rolled on the final movie where they’d slowly undressed each other, pressing lips against bare skin until George could hardly tell where he ends and Dream begins, the way it should be.  They’d barely had the presence of mind to tug boxers back on before slipping into unconsciousness for a precious few hours before Evan needs their attention again. 

“No, no, I’ve got him,” George sighs.  Evan has already settled a bit against him, but George knows from experience that his calmness is only temporary and it’s in everyone’s best interest to get some food into him before he melts down.  Dream whines a bit when George sits up, reaching for him with a frown.

“Don’ hav’ta,” he mumbles sleepily, and while, yeah, there is nothing George would like more than to spend the entire day lounging in bed with Dream, that’s not the universe they live in, and George happens to like their current universe more than enough to make up for that.

“Shh,” George leans down and smoothes a hand through the hair that curls over his forehead before leaning down to press a kiss there.  “Take your time, baby, I’ve got him.  We’re gonna go get breakfast started, isn’t that right, Evan?” he jostles the boy in his arms a bit to get his attention.

“Bekfast!” Evan agrees excitedly. 

“Exactly,” George nods solemnly, then kisses his forehead too.  “See you in a bit?”

Dream mumbles a bleary response, and George knows it’s just a matter of time before he gets up and joins them, but he’s just glad to afford Dream even a couple extra minutes of sleep.

He walks as quietly as he can down the hall with Evan balanced on his hip, and sets him down on the kitchen counter.

“You can’t move if you sit here,” George warns him, looking as serious as he can to get the message across to a two-year-old.  “You could get hurt, and I would be so sad if you got hurt, so you need to be very still.  Can you do that?”

Evan nods earnestly.  “Yeah, Gogy,” he promises, little legs dangling in front of him as he tries not to swing them, clearly taking the instructions to heart.  “I still.”

“Good boy,” George grins, ruffling his hair.  “Now since daddy is still asleep, we get to pick what to have for breakfast today,” he smirks before bending down to dig under the stove for a pan.  “So what d’you think?  Scrambled eggs or french toast?”

“Hmmm…” Evan thinks hard for a moment, and George likes that he gets to be a part of this process.  He’s getting to the age where he wants to help make decisions, and Dream had explained to him one night about how his mom told him to give Evan two options to pick from, so that he can feel like he gets a say without giving him too much to think through or giving too much control to a toddler.  

It’s one of George’s favorite things to do, because Evan takes it so seriously whenever he’s given a choice, like it will decide life or death rather than if George is getting the bread from the fridge or not.  It’s just one of the things that makes him seem so human— like a small person, rather than just a baby.  He’s done so much growing already in the few weeks that George has known him, and the hope that he’ll be around for every milestone going forward burns bright in his chest in moments like these.

“Eggs,” Evan eventually decides, and George is secretly relieved.  He can cook, but he doesn’t do it nearly as often as Dream, and he fears that french toast might’ve been approaching the limit of what he can pull off on such short notice (he’d known better than to even offer pancakes, anything that involves batter will be solely left for Dream), but scrambled eggs are easily doable.  So he sprays some oil in the pan and turns on the stove to let it heat up while he pulls the carton of eggs from the fridge.  There’s only a half dozen left, he notes, and immediately scrawls it down on the grocery list stuck to the fridge.

Evan, true to his work, sits so perfectly still George wonders if he’s even breathing.  He’s a good kid, so well-behaved despite the occasional terrible-twos meltdown, and George knows it's a testament to how good Dream is at parenting him, at making him feel both heard and listened to so that he doesn’t feel the need to lash out too often.  He’s seen it in action, the way Dream talks to him like an equal, how gentle and caring he is whenever he’s scolding him for anything, and Evan absolutely adores him.  

“Do you wanna help me, baby?” George offers, and Evan’s eyes light up with excitement. 

“Uh-huh,” he nods, reaching his arms out to instruct George to pick him up again.

“Let me crack the eggs real quick, then you can help me cook them, how does that sound?”

“‘Kay,” Evan agrees, and he drops one of his arms, leaving just one hand hovering in the air in an adorable attempt at a thumbs up that he definitely got from Sapnap.

George wastes no time in cracking a single egg for Evan into a bowl and scrambling it with a fork before turning back to Evan, hoisting him up onto a hip so that he can keep a hand free for cooking.

“Now, we’ve gotta be very careful,” George murmurs.  “The stove is very hot, right?”

“Hot,” Evan agrees, nodding against his cheek.

“Mhm, it can burn you if you’re not super careful.  So hold on tight to me, got it?”

“‘Kay,” Evan says again, tightening his arms around George’s neck to keep himself secure.  It’s a little bit of an awkward angle for George’s head, but he’ll deal with it before he asks Evan to let go.

The eggs hit the pan with a sizzle, and Evan is mesmerized.  George tries to stand so that Evan can watch, gently explaining everything he’s doing as he does it.

“If you’re very careful, you can help me mix them around, can you do that?” George asks.  “Don’t touch anything but what I tell you is safe, and you can’t squirm too much, or I’ll have to put you down in the living room while I cook.”

“Pomise,” Evan promises, so George helps him hold the spatula and leans down just enough that the end of the spatula hits the pan.  He’s got the temperature on low, so he’s pretty confident nothing will splash up and hit him as long as George keeps him from stirring the mixture too fast.  He sets the pace with his hand curled around Evan’s doing his best to scrape the bottom of the pan as they went to make sure it all cooks evenly.  

It’s a bit of a risk, with Evan being such a picky eater, not taking the extra care that they’re cooked the exact way Dream does it, but George remembers in his childhood how he would get so excited whenever he was a part of the process that he never paid any mind to the imperfections that would ordinarily make him scream.  He hopes Evan’s the same way, and makes a mental note to suggest it to Dream to try more in the future.

He’s so careful, so focused, taking his task seriously, and George is focused on making sure Evan is safe, that neither of them hear the footsteps approach from behind them until Dream wraps his arms around George from behind, causing him to jump and nearly drop the spatula he’s helping Evan hold.

“ Jesus Dream,” he scolds, turning off the stove so the eggs don’t burn.  “Do you not see me holding your child in front of a hot stove?”

“You wouldn’t have dropped him, I trust you,” Dream shrugs, tilting his head to kiss his cheek, and the words make George feel warmer than the electric burner ever could.  “Wanna help him eat?  I’ll make us something.”

“Mmm,” George hums in agreement.  “Gotta let go of me first.”

“In a sec,” Dream responds.  He presses his face to the junction of George’s neck and shoulder, breathing him in, and Geroge lets him, carefully scooping the cooked eggs from the pan to one of Evan’s plastic plates.  Dream is always so soft in the mornings, extra quiet and snuggly when they get to wake up slowly, and George has never been a morning person but he thinks he might like to become one if it means being awake for this version of Dream.

Evan is the one that interrupts them, predictably, smacking a hand on the top of Dream’s head.  Dream looks up at him with an exaggerated frown, lightly flicking at the offending little hand.

“Well that wasn’t very nice,” he pouts, and Evan has the awareness to look sheepish.  “We don’t hit people, Evie.  Can you say you’re sorry?”

“Sorry,” Evan parrots immediately, and Dream rewards him with a kiss on the top of his head.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.  “Wanna go sit with Gogy and eat your eggs?”  Dream finally releases him, and George mourns the loss of bare skin against his back for a moment before leaving Dream to continue cooking and sitting Evan in his booster seat.

“Sleep okay?” George directs the question to Dream, who’s cracking the remaining four eggs directly into the skillet to fry them.  It’s a nice view, and George takes the opportunity to admire the wide expanse of his bare shoulders covered in nothing but light freckles—barely visible from here, but so familiar, now that George has had the chance to map them with his lips, that George could point to each of them by heart—tapering down to a waist that’s the perfect size for George to wrap his arms around, and he only resists the temptation to do just that when Evan whines in frustration because the egg won’t stay on his fork.  

“Hmm?” Dream yawns.  “Oh, I did, yeah.  Thanks for, y’know, taking over this morning.”

“Of course,” George murmurs absently, fingers closing carefully around Evan’s fist to help him hold the fork steady as they scoop up a bite together, then letting go so Evan can feed it to himself.  “You looked like you needed it,” he adds, turning his head back to Dream to find the other man already staring at him with shiny eyes, back fully turned to the food on the stove, and George can’t help but smirk.  “See something you like.”

Dream’s lips quirk up on one side and he shrugs.  “Maybe.  And what about it?”

“Simp,” George teases.  “Don’t let our eggs burn, they’re the last ones we have.”  Dream startles a bit, and George laughs as he frantically checks that the eggs are okay.  “Your daddy is silly,” he tells Evan.  “Isn’t he so silly?”

“Silly daddy,” Evan giggles, and George hears Dream scoff.

“Turning my own kid against me.  What did I ever do to deserve this?”

“I just said you were silly, no one ever said that was a bad thing,” George points out.  “I happen to like silly, actually.”

“Ooh, you like me?” Dream teases.  “George likes me.”

“You make it sound like we’re twelve,” George rolls his eyes.  “Of course I like you.  Idiot.”

“Idiot,” Evan parrots, causing Dream to snort in amusement.  He joins them at the table, carrying with him two plates with eggs and a slice of toast, and sits down across from George, on Evan’s other side.  Under the table, he tangles his feet with George’s, just to maintain some point of physical contact between them.

“We’re out of eggs,” Dream points out after his first mouthful.

“Yeah, I said that,” George reminds him.  “I put it on your list.”

“I should go to the store soon,” Dream considers.  “We’re running low on bread and cheese too.”

“Just go today, what else are you doing?” George suggests.

“I guess I could,” he sighs.  “Usually I like to wait for Sapnap to stay home with Evan, he’s not—the biggest fan of the store, but maybe he could use a field trip.”

“I can stay with him,” George offers, because it seems like the obvious thing to do, then he remembers that he’s never been fully alone with Evan, and wonders if he’s out of line for suggesting it.  Sure, he helps out whenever he’s over, has even become a bathtime expert while Dream makes dinner, but Dream is always there.  There’s never been a time where he’s been fully responsible for him, and George wouldn’t blame Dream if that’s a step he’s not willing to take.  “I mean, if you’re comfortable with that.  It’s okay if you’re not, I know I haven’t really, like, been around all that long.  I can help you with him at the store too, if you’d prefer, or I can pick up some things, or—”

“George,” Dream interrupts him softly, brushing one of his feet gently against Geoge’s calf in a soothing motion.  “You can stay with him if you want.  I don’t want you to feel like you have to, or anything.  Like, it’s my kid and my groceries, I’ll figure it out regardless.  But if you’re worried I’m not, like, comfortable leaving him with you or something—I am.  Like, I meant when I said I trust you.  If you wanna watch him for an hour of course I’m okay with that.”

“Yeah?” George asks hopefully.  “Can I?”

The smile on Dream’s face rivals the sun streaming in from the window behind him, and George feels like he’s floating.  “I would love that, baby.  Is that okay with you, Ev?” he asks.  “Wanna spend some time with Gogy today?”

“Gogy!” Evan agrees enthusiastically, clapping his hands and reaching in George’s direction, even though he hasn’t finished his breakfast yet.  George, naturally, is powerless to deny him anything and takes him out of the chair to sit on his lap while they finish eating.

“Now who’s the simp?” Dream smirks.

“He’s two, I’m allowed,” George defends.

George volunteers to clean up the kitchen while Dream gets Evan ready for the day, then goes to get ready himself.  Enough of his clothes have ended up here at this point that he picks out an outfit just from Dream’s dresser—a pair of his own sweatpants, and one of Dream’s crewnecks—and joins the other two in the living room.  Dream is sitting on the floor with Evan sprawled next to him, a toy car in each hand holding his attention remarkably well.

“If you’re feeling up to it, you could take him to the park down the street,” Dream suggests.  “Let him run around for a bit, it’ll probably get him to nap sooner.  And for longer.”

“You just want an excuse to go back to bed,” George teases.  “I can do that.  It’ll be fun.  Anything I should know?  Anything to, like, avoid?”

“I’m not gonna give you, like, rules, George,” Dream grins.  “Like I said, I trust you.  You know how to keep him safe and stuff.  Just keep an eye on him.”

“Fine, whatever, don’t tell me then,” George huffs.  “But I can’t be held accountable if we accidentally break some secret rule you didn’t tell me about.”

It’s a double-edged sword, the trust that Dream’s putting in him.  On the one hand, it feels incredible to know that Dream recognizes just how much he cares for Evan, to know that Dream appreciates it.  The word trust rings in his head over and over, the weight of it sitting comfortably in his stomach.  Dream’s trust, especially with something as precious as his child, is the most valuable thing Dream can give him, and it’s not something George takes lightly.

On the other hand, he’s so wildly out of his depth.  Dream always tells him he has good instincts with Evan, that he’s a natural at interacting with him and taking care of him, but George still worries every day that he’s missing something.  That flying by the seat of his pants will lead him astray at some point, and the thought of it happening without Dream there to pick up the slack is nauseating. 

He’s determined not to let Dream down, though, and he knows Dream knows that, because the other man just smiles and assures him, “you’ll be fine.”

Dream takes some time going over his list—written on actual paper, instead of his phone, because he’s a nerd—before checking one more time that George is sure he doesn’t mind babysitting.

“It’s not babysitting, I’m your boyfriend,” George points out.  “He’s, like, part of dating you.  I’m here for both of you.”

Dream has to hurry out after that, claiming that he can’t drive if he starts crying. 

“Well, I guess it’s just you and me now, huh Evie?” George remarks as soon as the door closes behind him.  Evan blinks in confusion at the door, glancing between it and George with wide green eyes, and for a moment George worries he’s going to start crying for Dream to come back, but he just reaches his arms up for George to hold him, and George thinks that’s a pretty small price to pay to keep him happy.

He bundles Evan up nice and warm before they venture outside.  It’s not actually that cold out, and George is more than fine in a light jacket with his sweatshirt, but Evan is small, so he tugs a beanie over his curls and covers his fingers with black gloves in addition his his coat, and helps him with the velcro on his shoes that Evan insisted he can do by himself.  

The park really is only two blocks away, an easy walk even for Evan, and it kills a lot of time just walking there.  He lets Evan walk by himself, holding just one hand to make sure he doesn’t dart into the street at the intersection, and as soon as they arrive, Evan is already dragging him in the direction of the swings.

Chasing him around the playground is, frankly, exhausting.  George considers himself to be in pretty decent shape from walking everywhere, but Evan’s sheer energy humbles him pretty quickly.  He does his best to just keep him within arm’s reach at any given time, so he can step in at a moment’s notice, but even that is proving to be a difficult task, as Evan indecisively runs between sections of the playground every minute.

It makes him a little bit nervous, because Evan is fearless.   He jumps from ladders, laughing over his shoulder like he’s enjoying the looks of panic on George’s face every time the boy takes a tumble.  The knees of his pants are covered in woodchips at this point, and if he hadn’t been wearing gloves the palms of his hands would surely be scratched to hell, but Evan is unbothered.

“Careful, Ev,” he warns, dropping to a knee to help him brush himself off after another fall.  “Remember what we said this morning about not getting hurt?”

“I careful!” Evan responds, before he’s off again, towards the swings this time, and George barely suppresses a sigh as he stands to follow.  

By the time Evan’s steps begin to slow, George is just as ready to lie down again.  He doesn’t know how Dream does this every day, they’ve barely been here an hour and he’s beat.  He’s relieved when Evan reaches up for George to pick him up again, and George takes that as a sign that it’s time to go.

The walk back is slower with Evan on his hip rather than running by his side, and Evan is practically falling asleep by the time they’re climbing up to the second story of Dream’s apartment building.  Dream isn’t home yet, so George takes the initiative to make a quick lunch—they split a ham sandwich—and change Evan back into his pajamas for a nap.

“Want me to read to you?” he asks quietly, and Evan nods sleepily against his shoulder.  It’s an excuse to keep George there for longer, he knows this, but he’s more than happy to oblige.  Dream has a pile of Doctor Seuss books right next to his bed and George picks one off the top.  Evan’s fast asleep within two pages, and, after making sure he won’t wake up, George tiptoes back out to the living room to wait for Dream.

With some time to kill, he figures it’s as good a time as any to check in with Hannah.  They text every day, almost constantly, but it’s been a few days since they talked.  He doesn’t bother sending a text first, after checking that she’s at her parents’ house, and just hits FaceTime call.

“Well well well, would you look who it is,” she greets.  She’s in her room, he recognizes the pink rose throw pillow on her bed.  It feels later in the day than it is, George has been up for hours with Evan, but Hannah looks like she’s still in her sleep clothes.  A part of him misses spending the days of his winter break in bed, but he thinks what he’s doing now is even better.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” George rolls his eyes.

“Dunno,” she grins.  “Just surprised you could spare some time for little old me.  You’ve been so wrapped up in your new family lately it feels like I haven’t heard your voice in ages.”  She’s teasing, but George does feel a little bad for how little time he spent with her and Sylvee the second half of the semester.  They’d hung out out with him and Dream a few times, Dream had been true to his offer for the four of them to do more stuff together after midterms, but then finals had sucked his time up again and the girls had gone home for break. 

“It’s been like, two days, you’re so dramatic,” he scoffs.  “And I called now, didn’t I?”

“That’s true,” she hums.  “How’s it going down there?  Fatherhood treating you well?”

“Shut up, idiot,” George huffs.  He hates that he can see himself on the facetime camera, because he can see the way his cheeks flush at the accusation.  “It’s not—shut up.”

“Oh my god, look at you,” she gushes.  “You’re, like, giddy.   Aww, wait, this is so cute I’m so happy for you.”

“Can you, like, chill?” George grumbles. “I’ll hang up on you.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Hannah replies, but the stupid, smug smile on her face is mocking him. “It’s just—it’s exciting, isn’t it?  You were so worried about him having a kid, now you’re all, like, flustered over how happy you are.”

“I am not,”   George whines, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the stupid grin on his own face.  “I’m just, I dunno, we’re having a good time.”

“Tell me about them!” she prods excitedly, even going so far as to sit all the way up in bed.  “I want to hear what you’ve been getting up to!”

“Like, not much, I guess,” George shrugs.  “Dream’s running some errands now, so I took Evan to the park for a bit.  He’s taking a nap now.  We don’t really do that much, it’s just…”

“Very domestic,” she finishes for him, which, well.  Yeah.  It is.  And he really likes it, and he knows it shows on his face.  “God, taking him to the park, that’s so cute.   You really are like a parent.”

“Ugh, whatever,” he huffs.  “I’m just helping out.  I like him, he’s a good kid.  He makes it easy, y’know?”

“And Dream?  You two are…?” 

“Good, we’re good, we’re, y’know,” he shrugs a bit awkwardly, before admitting, “domestic.  I guess.   It’s all going so well, I just want it to be like this always.”

“Are you spending Christmas there?”

“Nah, we’ll be here for New Years though.  Christmas is a bigger thing, we’re not really there yet.”

They hadn’t actually talked about it, actually.  Dream never specifically asked if he wanted to come, and it just feels too soon for him to invite himself to a big family event like that.  They’re just…not there yet, really.  He likes where they’re at, likes that he has time to get his feet under him a little bit, he’s in no rush.  And, with any luck…

“Next year, then,” Hannah says, like it’s some sort of fact. 

“Maybe,” George allows.  “Hopefully.”

The front door creaks open then, followed by the rustle of what George assumes are grocery bags.  He glances up from his phone just as Dream pops into view, the tip of his nose flushed pink from outside.

“Hey, sorry that took so long,” Dream apologizes, dropping his armful of bags on the kitchen counter.  “I figured I could knock out a few other errands while I had the time alone.  Everything go okay?”

“Mhm,” George nods.  “He’s napping, I wanted to wait for you though.”

“Aww, you can just say you wanna cuddle,” Dream teases.  “Lemme get my shoes off then I’m all yours, baby.”

“Do you need help carrying anything else up?”

“Nope, your big, strong boyfriend took care of it all.”

George rolls his eyes.  “You’re an idiot.  Also say hi to Hannah, we’re on FaceTime.”

“ George,” Dream whines, flopping down next to him on the couch and kissing his cheek.  “Usually you’re supposed to tell someone before you have a conversation when someone else is there.”

“What, are you afraid Hannah’s gonna know you’re obsessed with me?  Everyone already knows that,” George scoffs.

“Hi Dream,” Hannah interrupts them.  “I was just borrowing him for a bit, but you can have him back now.”

“No, no, you don’t have to hang up on my account,” Dream protests.  “I can just chill, or I can go into the other room if you’d rather talk alone, I see him every day, I can spare him for a few more minutes.”

“No, we’re done here,” George says, before Hannah can say something stupid and embarrass him.  He ignores her knowing look at him trying to end the conversation, something he admittedly tends to do when he feels like he’s been too honest.  There’s only so much vulnerability he can take in a given day, and most of it is reserved for Dream.  Anything extra just goes over his quota, and now he wants to nap.  “Bye, Hannah, I’ll call you never.”

“Bye George, you’ll call me soon,” she counters, and they both know she’s right. “Bye Dream, have a good nap, guys.”

They move to Dream’s bedroom—that George barely resists calling theirs most days—and change into pajama sweats (not to be confused with outside sweats, which George lives in most days anyways, but Dream has a rule about outside clothes and the bed) before cuddling up together.  They probably don’t have much time, Evan’s already been down for an hour himself, and even with the extra energy he burned at the park George doubts he’ll sleep for more than another hour at most.

“Sorry if you guys were still talking, I really didn’t mean to interrupt,” Dream apologizes again. 

“You didn’t,” George assures him, closing his eyes and laying his head on Dream’s chest.  He feels Dream’s arms snake their way around him and he melts into it.  “We were just, y’know, chatting.  ‘Bout stuff.  Nothing important.”

“Chatting about stuff, hmmm?” Dream hums, and George feels the vibrations from his chest.  

“Mhm,” he nods. “Now sleep.”

“Okay, baby, we can sleep,” Dream agrees.

“Love you,” George mumbles absentmindedly, and he’s just about drifting off when he feels Dream freeze under him.  He frowns, playing back the conversation in his head, and realization hits him like a bucket of cold water, waking him right up.  “I-I mean, I—” he tries desperately to backtrack.

“Yeah?” Dream whispers, voice shaky like it always gets when he’s trying not to cry.  It’s a sound George is familiar with, Dream gets emotional pretty easily, especially when it comes to George and Evan.  But that doesn’t keep it from sending a pang through his chest every time, an impulsive need to comfort and make Dream smile again.

But this time, he doesn’t know what that would take.  The thing is, he really hadn’t thought about it before.  Obviously, some part of his brain has been associating Dream with love for quite some time now, because it doesn’t feel scary.  It just feels like a fact: George loves Dream.  It feels as natural as breathing to him, but at the same time he knows there’s gravity behind acknowledging it out loud, and he doesn’t want to offload the pressure that comes with it onto Dream if he doesn’t want it.  And, well, if he’s honest it’s been awhile since they’ve had any formal conversation about exactly where they stand.  Not since the coffeeshop, when George had promised to be all in.   It hasn’t changed, not for him at least, but maybe he should’ve checked in with Dream before professing his love in the middle of a Monday afternoon.

“I…” is all his panicked brain can come up with, absolutely no use under pressure.

“It’s okay if you want to take it back,” Dream murmurs, offering him a lifeline.  “Like, if it was an accident, or whatever.  I can pretend I never heard it.”  And maybe that would be the safer option, to just rewind and go about their lives as they’ve been, but the thought of denying it, of sweeping such a confession under the rug, sets something sour in his stomach.  It feels like a lie, and if there’s one person George can never lie to, it's the man currently sharing a bed.

“What if I don’t want to take it back?” George responds quietly, tense as he tries to keep the tremor out of his voice, but he knows Dream can see right through it.  “Is that—would that be okay?”

“ Baby,” Dream whispers.  “Of course that’s okay.  I…I love you so much George, so much.”

“I just didn’t want to scare you, like if you weren’t ready for that,” George explains himself.  “I know it’s—I know this all is a lot for you, and we haven’t really, like, talked about it in awhile.  I don’t wanna go too fast or anything.”

“Sweetheart, that’s—you’re incredible, you know that?” Dream sniffles, and George rolls on top of him to cover him like a blanket, face pressed into his neck.  Dream’s arms tighten around his waist to hold him there and their legs tangle together, maximizing their points of contact, and it’s comforting, soothing how he can feel Dream’s heart beat against his own.  “When Ev was born, I had never loved anything or anyone that much.  Like, I completely rediscovered what it even means to love.  And that just became the standard for anything I would ever love again.”  He sniffles again, thumb finding its way to the small of George’s back and rubbing gentle circles against the skin under the hem of his shirt.  George presses a kiss to the underside of Dream’s jaw in his own attempt at comfort.  

“No one has ever come close, he’s just the center of my universe.  And then you showed up, and I got to learn about love all over again.  Because you care for him so much that I would never have to choose.  I don’t have to, like, rank you, or defend my love for either of you, you just let me…love you.  Which is so much more than I ever thought  I would have again.”

“I love you,” George whispers, because he can’t form any other words after all that.  His entire brain is just a jumbled mess of love and Dream and family and home and love.   “And I love Evan too.  I won’t say it to him or anything if you don’t want, like, if you’re too worried about him getting attached, or whatever.  But I just wanted to make sure that you know that I do.  You’re both…me too.”

Dream makes a wounded noise, a mix between a whine and a laugh.  “Are you kidding?  I want him to know that he’s surrounded by love every day of his life.  And sorry to break it to you, but he talks about you every single day, even when you aren’t here.  He’s already attached.”  George lets out a shaky breath, and feels Dream’s hand come to settle in his hair.  “And who could blame him?  Even if you don’t say it, he knows, he can feel it.  You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us, you know that?”

“Stop,” George mumbles, and he can feel his throat threatening to tighten, the love he feels practically choking him.  Dream isn’t the only one with tears in his eyes, and George keeps his face pressed resolutely to Dream’s neck to hide.  He thinks maybe if he stays here, the saltwater will be forced to remain inside, concealing the evidence of his bleeding heart.

It’s not fair, really, that this conversation would come so soon after Hannah’s teasing, because now it has him thinking .  He’s imagining a future where they spend every holiday together, where he takes Dream and Evan back home to London to visit his family, where he spends evenings helping Evan with his math homework and nights whispering his love against Dream’s skin so that he never doubts it for a second.  

One where, maybe, Evan calls him something like dad.   Just the thought nearly tears a sob from his chest with how much he wants .

“You’re it for us, okay?” Dream adds.  “We love you so much.  We always want you around.”  The forever goes unsaid.

“Fuck you for making me cry when I just wanted to have a nap,” George whimpers, and it’s embarrassing, or it should be.  But Dream would never judge him, not for this, not when George can feel the way his own chest still trembles with barely-repressed sobs.  They’re lucky Evan hasn’t come in yet, and George sniffles in an attempt to compose himself just in case.  They surely look a mess, a pile of red-rimmed eyes and tears and snot, and it’s gross but it’s such a small price to pay for this amount of happiness that George thinks he can just deal.

“You’re the one who said the L word,” Dream teases gently, words murmured against his forehead.  “What was I supposed to do, be normal about it?”

“Yes.  You love me too much.  Freak,” George sniffles.  It’s not a very convincing insult, but it’s not meant to be.  

“Hmm, maybe I do.  Maybe you’ll just have to deal with that,” Dream hums.

“ Fine.  Maybe I will.”  As if it’s any sort of hardship.  As if George thinks he could possibly continue to exist in a world where he doesn’t love Dream and Dream doesn’t love him.

—

George barely sees his own apartment by the time the semester starts up again.

Sapnap returns shortly after New Years and doesn’t even blink at the sight of the three of them piled together on the couch in front of Cars when he stumbles through the front door.  He doesn’t question it, either, when George doesn’t go home that night, or the night after that, or the night after that.  

All his textbooks for the semester—his last semester—have a permanent home on the end table by Dream’s couch, his clothes share Dream’s closet and dresser space until they don’t even know what belongs to who, his favorite chocolates become a pantry staple that Dream makes sure to pick up every time he’s at the store, even when George doesn’t ask.  

Bath time becomes his full-time responsibility, and all three of them take turns reading Evan a bedtime story.  He helps make breakfast and lunch, and sometimes Sapnap just pushes the two of them out the door with a promise to watch after Evan for a few hours while they have some time to themselves.  

It never even dawns on him that they need it, even though he knows they do.  Even traditional couples with kids still need to take some time to themselves, and he and Dream have definitely spent less time alone than most couples approaching the six month mark.  

It’s nice when Dream takes him out, never anywhere fancy on their limited budgets, but even a cozy hour or two at the coffee shop— their coffee shop, George always calls it—feels like heaven when he’s gazing at Dream from across the tiny wooden table.  

“Evan’s birthday is coming up,” Dream comments on one such date.  Evan is a common topic of conversation, of course, even when he’s not there.  They try to talk about other things, too, things like their classes and their families and George’s tutoring and what errands they need to run that weekend and even their plans for their future (the together has been universally accepted ever since their conversation in December), but nearly everything leads back to him anyways, and neither of them would ever try to resist that.

“Hmm,” George agrees around a sip of the strawberry lemonade.  “Are you feeling okay about it?”

Dream rolls his eyes. “Of course not, but that isn’t what I wanted to say about it.”

“Go on, then,” George nods, and Dream knocks their feet together under the table.  He looks nervous, fidgeting with his drink in front of him. A few months ago, it might have made George nervous, but he thinks he’s become pretty good at reading Dream.

Sometimes his boyfriend just gets too in his head, worried about things that have never happened and thinking about things six or seven steps ahead, and George knows it has nothing to do with him.  And, usually, he knows what to do to draw him back to the present, how to sit and listen to him so that Dream knows he’s not being dismissed, never judging.  When given enough time, Dream will say everything.  Even when he’s reluctant to share, a couple of careful questions and every worry in his silly, wonderful mind comes spilling out.  Sometimes, that’s all it takes.  He’ll speak it into the universe and work it out all on his own while George sits and nods along, soaking in every word like rays from the sun.

“Usually we, like, go to my parents’,” he begins.  “Because their place is, like, bigger, obviously, and the rest of my family likes to be there since he’s the baby, so they can fit more people.”  George nods along, eyes locked on Dream’s, even if the other man can’t stop his own from darting around the room.  “Like, everyone.  My parents, my siblings, um, my grandparents live near here.  Cousins and stuff.  Sapnap usually comes too.”

“Okay,” George encourages.

“Do you want to come?”

He asks it so quickly that the words blend together, and George has to pause for a second to process it.

Do you want to come?

To meet his parents.  To meet the rest of his family too.

It feels like Christmas all over again, except this time Dream is sitting him down and asking.  It feels like Christmas all over again, except now George knows.  They’ve never really brought up meeting each other’s families, but of course George has thought about it.  He’s been waiting for this, honestly, even if he assumed it would take the form of a casual dinner or something first.  It’s going to be overwhelming, and George has never really liked dealing with so many new people at once.

But it’s also Evan’s birthday, and it’s Dream asking, so of course he’s going to be there.

“You don’t have to,” Dream assures him quickly, practically reading his mind.  “Like, it’ll be kind of a lot of people, and I don’t want you to stress about it or anything.  We’ll do something for him, just the three of us, or us and Sapnap, if you’d prefer.  You’re not gonna miss his birthday, obviously.  I just, I dunno, figured I would ask.”

“I’m—yeah, if—if you’re sure it’s okay that I’m there,” he stutters, far from certain in his answer but so certain in his devotion to their little family. 

“Of course it’s okay,” Dream promises, visibly relieved like he thought there’s any world where George would have reacted badly to such a request.  “My mom actually asked for you specifically, Evan wouldn’t stop talking about you on Christmas.  Everyone really wants to meet you.” 

“No pressure, though,” George grins weakly, imagining Evan’s excited little babbling as he opens presents on Christmas morning.  He’d been sorry to miss it at the time, and that feeling alone is enough to make him agree to it.  If he can help it, he never wants to miss anything ever again.

“Absolutely no pressure,” Dream assures him.  “Like, if it’s too much at once, or whatever, we’ll figure something out.  We can, like, step outside and take a breather or something.”

“Or I can just Uber home,” George points out, but Dream frowns and shakes his head.

“I said we’ll figure something out,” he says.  “We’re a team.  I’m not gonna leave you alone, okay?”

“ Dream, be reasonable,” George rolls his eyes, reaching across the table to take Dream’s hand.  “It’s your family, if it comes down to it, of course you’ll stay, c’mon.”

“But—” Dream protests.

“Sweetheart,” George cuts him off.  “It’ll be fine, okay?  We don’t have to worry about something that literally might not even happen.  Like, it’s so going to be fine.”

“Of course it is,” Dream agrees, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as George.  Which is fine with George, they can convince each other.  It’s how they work best. 

All else aside, it’s not lost on George what a big deal this is.  Slowly, he’s creeping his way into every part of Dream’s life: his son, his best friend, now his family.  A warmth that feels like belonging spreads out from his chest the longer he thinks about it, so he thinks about it as often as possible.  

It even helps him deal with the other part, the worry that makes him feel like throwing up a bit.  The truth is, he’s never met a partner’s parents before.  He’s never been serious enough with anyone to make it to this point.  He doesn’t know what to expect, and the uncertainty is a bit anxiety-inducing, but it’s also Dream, the most familiar part of his life.  

So it’ll be fine.  That’s what he keeps telling himself.

Evan doesn’t quite have a concept of time just yet, but he knows something special is coming up, because Dream has started reminding him every day.

“How old are you, buddy?” he asks.  Evan looks at his own hand in confusion for a moment, before holding up his first two fingers, just like Dream has shown him.  “That’s right!” Dream praises.  “And your birthday is in just four days!   How old are you going to be then?”  This one stumps him, as they haven’t been practicing it with him for nearly as long.

Dream takes his hand and lifts up a third finger.  “You’re gonna be that many!   Do you know how many that is?”

He studies his hand for a moment, and George can practically see the gears turning in his head.  He knows the numbers, counting to ten has been part of their bathtime routine the past few weeks and he’s really getting the hang of it.  Sometimes, George will even catch him toddling around the apartment, pointing to things and assigning them numbers quietly to himself, as if he’s practicing to show George later that night.

George is about to graduate from an American university with a double major and honors, but he thinks this might be the greatest accomplishment of his life so far.

“One-two-three!” Evan counts out loud, and George has to look away to keep from tearing up.

“That’s right, baby!” Dream exclaims, and Evan giggles hysterically the way he does when one of them tickles his stomach.  “Oh, you’re so smart, how’d you get to be so smart?”

“Gogy!” Evan answers excitedly.  George has to bite his lip to hold back a sob.

“Oh yeah?” Dream asks softly, fondness dripping from his voice.  “Gogy’s a pretty good teacher, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Evan agrees. “One-two-three!”

He hears whispering behind him for a moment, and George is about to give in and turn back around—hopefully more composed than he was a few moments ago, when a weight crashes into his legs, followed by a pair of arms wrapping themselves around his waist. 

“One-two-three-four-five!” Evan chants near his knee, while Dream presses the most tender of kisses to his cheek.

“You did that,” he whispers through a smile, and George is blinking back tears again.  “You taught him that.  All you.  Doesn’t that feel good?”  All George can do is nod, and Dream spins him around to cup his cheek, thumb catching the wetness at the corner of his eye before it can fall.  “You’re so good with him,” he murmurs.  “And I love doing this with you.”

“I love you,” George whispers back, shifting onto his toes for a moment to catch Dream’s lips in a kiss.  He uses the moment to compose himself, not that Dream’s fond gaze staring at him from just inches away does much to help the matter.  Once he’s (mostly) satisfied he won’t burst into tears, he bends down to scoop Evan into his arms to hold him between them. “And I love you, little Einstein.”

“Love you, Gogy,” Evan replies, smacking a kiss to his cheek. 

“Do I get one too?” Dream pretends to pout.  Evan easily obliges with a kiss on his chin.

“Now you!” he instructs, reaching a hand behind each of their heads to try to push them together.  Dream chuckles quietly, but neither of them are going to put up much of a fight against that suggestion.  

It’s endlessly adorable, Evan’s recent fascination with them kissing.  They’d certainly never tried to hide it from him, by the time George had been introduced to Evan, it had been pretty well-established just who George is.  But there’s also no doubt that they’ve become more comfortable in openly displaying their affection the more time they spend together.

And it’s sweet, because it’s just like Dream said: he wants Evan to be surrounded by love every day of his life.  There’s no shortage of love there between them, and he knows Evan can tell.

The closer they get to the day, the more nervous George gets.  Sapnap puts a countdown on the refrigerator white board, and while Evan loves watching the number get smaller each day, to George it feels more like the ticking of a bomb, counting down to either detonation or diffusion, and the outcome feels out of his control. 

He’s glad for Dream, feels so lucky for the understanding his boyfriend shows him every single day.  He gets to fall asleep every night in his arms with gentle reassurances that everything will be okay.  George almost has no choice but to believe him.

Evan wakes them up on his birthday the way he always does: by thumping directly onto George’s chest at the crack of dawn, giggling as he shakes him awake.  George feigns sleep for a moment before his smile gives him away, and he rolls them both over to wake Dream up as well.

“ Up , daddy,” Evan insists.  “It’s my day!”

“Yeah, Dream,” George grins, taking the more gentle approach of combing his fingers through Dream’s curls to draw him out of sleep.  “It’s his day.”

Eventually Dream grumbles awake, and it doesn’t take long for the three of them to tumble down the hallway together for breakfast—special chocolate chip pancakes prepared by Dream.  Sapnap joins them soon, probably due to the sheer amount of noise Evan makes when he’s this high-energy.  George thinks he’ll need a nap before they even leave at this rate, but falling asleep again before lunch feels unlikely.  Already he’s doing the math in his head of how long they have before he crashes, and makes a note to keep an eye on him later in the afternoon. 

Evan insists on picking out his own clothes, because he’s a big boy now, and George watches with barely-concealed amusement as Dream patiently tries to negotiate with him to get clothes that match.

“Who made you the king of fashion,” George can’t help but snark, stirring the pot just a little. “Maybe he’s onto something and you’re, like, suppressing his creativity.”

“Then he can be onto something in the comfort of our own home and not when we’re going to my parents’ in an hour,” Dream shoots back.  “But we are just not experimenting with lime green shorts and a blue striped t-shirt.  In February, mind you.”

“Boring,” George teases.

“Boring,” Evan parrots, and Dream narrows his eyes in a playful glare at George.

“Well, someone’s gotta be the strict parent around here,” Dream sighs as he tugs a different blue t-shirt over Evan’s head, a pair of khaki pants already on his legs. 

George doesn’t really have a response for that one.

He lets Sapnap sit in the passenger’s seat on the drive over in favor of sitting in the back with Evan.  It’s a half an hour drive to Dream’s parents’ house, so George distracts himself by distracting Evan.  They play EyeSpy pointing out things along the side of the road, Sapnap even chimes in from the front seat from time to time, and it feels so normal that George almost forgets where they’re going.

Almost.  Not quite, though. 

They slow down as they pull into a neighborhood of tall, pale houses, nearly identical and set back from the street behind wide green yards, lush even in the depths of winter.  George, for having lived here four years, hasn’t really strayed much off campus and is only now realizing how little he’s seen of American suburbs.  It’s nice out here, he thinks.  He could see himself settling down somewhere like this.

“We’re here,” Dream announces, and Evan cheers loudly, already scrambling at the buckle of his carseat in his rush to get out.

“Alright, okay, calm down,” George chuckles, carefully moving his hands out of the way to undo the seatbelt.  Dream is ready at the car door and sets him on the ground, and Evan takes off running.

“He loves my mom,” Dream explains.  “She watches him a lot when I have class and stuff, and, well, he hasn’t seen her nearly as much lately with three of us trading off.”

George frowns at that. “I don’t wanna take his time away from his grandparents.”

“You’re not,” Dream assures him.  “It’s easier getting to keep him at home than drive him out here every day.  Like, if anything you’re making our lives so much easier.  Y’know, in addition to the fact that I’m insanely in love with you and wouldn’t want you anywhere else.”

“Oh yeah, in addition to that,” George scoffs, turning away to follow Evan towards the house but Dream doesn’t let him go without a kiss.  George closes his eyes and leans into it, uses it to ground himself and pointedly ignores the four other cars that are already parked in the driveway. 

“Good?” Dream whispers against his lips.

George nods. “Yeah,” he whispers back, then adds, “Love you.”

“Love you,” Dream replies with one final kiss to his forehead.  He pulls back and waits for George to open his eyes and look at him.  “And they will too.”

George takes a deep breath, in and out, and nods.  “Okay,” he agrees.  “I trust you.  Ready?”

“If you are.” Dream takes his hand and squeezes, always comforting.

He follows Dream inside and is immediately hit by the thrum of several different conversations at once.  Everyone is scattered around the open-concept kitchen and living room, and George’s eyes dart around trying to take everyone in.  He recognizes Dream’s mom with Evan on her hip, deep in a conversation with his younger sister.  He thinks he recognizes his brother around somewhere too, but the majority of the family members are completely new to him.  He squeezes Dream’s hand again, a silent plea to stay with him, and Dream squeezes back his agreement.  

Evan is the first one to notice him, face lighting up like he hadn’t just seen him two minutes ago, and squirms down from his grandma’s arm.  She lets him, glancing around the room until her eyes fall on him and Dream standing near the front door.  He doesn’t get a chance to read her expression, nor does he get to see who else has noticed his entrance, because Evan grabs his other hand and starts pulling him further into the house.

“Gamma, gamma, it’s Gogy!” he squeals.

George is debating whether a hug or a handshake would be more appropriate when Evan decides he’s had enough and pulls him off in another direction to present him to another member of the family, over and over without giving George so much as a chance to make eye contact with whoever he’s supposedly meeting.  Dream is going to have to take him around again later, but for now he’s content to shadow Evan.  It’s his birthday, after all, and, well, Evan is safe.   

He drags him into another room eventually, instructing him to sit down on the carpet and George does.  The walls are lined with old play kitchens—ones like he remembers his sister used to have—along with a play tool bench and shelves upon shelves of children’s books and stuffed animals.  There are a couple toy chests too, and Evan beelines for one and begins unloading its contents onto the floor between them.

“Hey, let’s not make a mess, baby, we just got here,” George stops him gently.  “Pick something to play with now and we can come back for another one later.”

“No,” Evan shakes his head, continuing his task. “For you.”

“For me?”  

“Uh-huh,” Evan mumbles.  He unloads a few plastic dump trucks and rolls them in George’s direction.  “See?  I share.”

George melts as he accepts the toys, heart fit to burst. “I do see.  You’re such a good sharer, Ev.  That’s so sweet of you.”

“Yeah, sharing’s good,” Evan explains, like it’s some novel concept.  It probably is, to a three-year-old, but it’s something Dream has been focusing a lot on to get him ready for preschool next year.  

It’s funny how they’ve naturally fallen into these things.  Like, they had never really discussed the whole counting thing, George just thought counting the tiles on the wall of the tub was a silly way to pass the time while he washed him—it’s something he does in his head all the time anyways—and it just turned into daily counting sessions.  And while George has been busy teaching him numbers, Dream has been busy teaching him how to be a person.  

They just—make a really good team.

“Wow, I never would have expected to find you guys in here,” Dream’s voice nearly startles him when he walks up from behind.

“I’m sharing daddy,” Evan informs him.  He picks a toy phone up off the floor and reaches to Dream with it.  “See?  This one for you.”

Dream kneels down beside him and scoops Evan into his arms, ticking his stomach and pressing sloppy kisses to his face until he breaks down into giggles.  “Oh, that’s so generous, my big boy,” Dream praises.  “But how about you share Gogy with the rest of the family?  You see him every day, they want to see him now too.”

“No,” Evan shakes his head.  “I share with Gogy.”

“C’mon baby, we’ll go out together,” George suggests.  “You can introduce me to your grandma.  She probably wants to see you too.”

“ Fine,” Evan huffs, rolling his eyes.

“He’s getting that from you,” Dream points out, eyes shining with mirth.

“ Me?” George replies, scandalized.  “You do it too!”

“Let’s go,” Evan prods, tugging away from Dream’s arms to pull at George’s shirt. “Gotta…druce you to Gamma.”

“ Intro duce, baby,” Dream corrects gently, hauling himself to his feet and lifting Evan with him.  George stands up, and it never fails to tug at his heartstrings when Evan reaches for him.  Dream surrenders him easily, and George smacks a kiss to Evan’s cheek.

“Gamma now?”

“Yeah buddy, let’s go see Gramma,” George nods.  “You’re the birthday boy, it’s your day, remember?”

“Oh yeah!” Evan exclaims. “My day, my day, my day!”

Dream leads them back out to the living room, and George tries not to let the awkwardness show on his face when everyone immediately turns to look at him.  There are even more people here now than when they’d first arrived, more people George has never seen and he just knows they’re all watching him.

It’s one thing to introduce your family to your partner.  That’s a big enough deal as it is, something that marks a big step in a relationship.  But he’s not just some boyfriend they might never see again.  They’ve all been here since Evan was born, and now he’s swooped in and taken a significant role in his life.  A role of—even if they don’t put a name to it—a parent.  They’re right to judge him, it doesn’t mean he likes it.

Evan, true to his word, sticks to him like glue.  Everyone is dying for a piece of him, the baby of the family on his special day, and he allows himself to be passed around a little bit, but the second someone tries to walk him away he wiggles out of their grasp and back to George’s side.

George sits with him and Dream’s mom while they eat lunch, Evan on his lap instead of in a booster seat like he normally would be, and every so often Evan holds up a chip for George to eat. Despite having his own plate right there.

“I share,” he explains every time, and George thanks him with a kiss to the top of his head.

“Such a big boy sharing like that,” Dream’s mom praises.  “But why don’t you let George eat his lunch now?”

“No,” Evan argues, just as George assures her, “I don’t mind, I’ve got a hand free to eat.”

She looks between the two of them uncertainly, and it makes something uneasy curl in his stomach.  He’s not used to thinking too hard when it comes to interacting with Evan.  Dream’s told him he has good instincts, so he tends to just follow them rather than worrying about what he should be doing.  Having an outside party—and one as important as Dream’s mom, at that—observing him so intently has him second-guessing everything he thinks he knows.

“Evie, is it Gogy’s turn to eat now?” Dream asks, sliding into the seat across from them with his own plate.  Evan responds by holding another potato chip for George to eat from his hand. 

“I share,” Evan says, and Dream chuckles fondly.

“You share so well.  But what about the rest of his lunch?  Why don’t you go play with your Aunt Drista for a bit while Gogy eats?”

“ No,” Evan crosses his arms with a glare that even George has to admit definitely came from him.  He can tell Dream’s thinking the same thing, from the way he has to bite his lip to hold back laughter.

“I suggested he come sit with me for a bit,” Dream’s mom inserts. “But they both said they’re fine where they are.”

It’s the hint of judgment again that turns the unease fully sour, and he looks to Dream for help.  Dream, thankfully, catches the anxiety in his gaze and frowns, but doesn’t make a big show of it. “Evie, do you wanna show George what books Gramma has here?” he offers.  “See if he’ll read one to you until it’s time for cake and presents?”

“Want cake!” Evan exclaims, zeroing in on the one word in the entire sentence.

“Nice job, dad,” George teases. “C’mon buddy.  We can’t have cake until everyone has had lunch, right?  No one can have dessert before lunch can they?”

“No,” Evan shakes his head.

“Exactly.  See all the food daddy still has on his plate?  We can’t have cake until he eats all his food just like you did,” George explains.  “Are you getting tired?”

“No,” Evan mumbles, but rests his head back on George’s shoulder anyways.

“I’ll go sit with him,” George says softly, pushing Evan’s nearly-empty paper plate away from the edge of the table and raising a hand to rub gently at the boy’s back.  “He was running all over the place even before breakfast.  We should let him nap for a bit before we do cake.”

“Okay,” Dream agrees softly.  “D’you know where to go?”

“Yeah, we’ll just be in the playroom he showed me earlier,” George tells them as he carefully stands.  “Let me know if you need anything?”

“Of course,” Dream promises.  “You too?”

“Of course,” George confirms.  “C’mon bub.”  He carefully hoists the two of them up, pointedly ignoring all the eyes he can feel on him as he turns on his heel and retreats to the playroom. 

It’s relieving in a way he hadn’t even known he needed, to just sit down without a single pair of eyes on him.  Well, except for the familiar green pair blinking up at him sleepily from his shoulder. 

“Read?” Evan mumbles sleepily.

“Yeah, honey, I’ll read to you,” George agrees.  “Wanna pick one out, or do you want me to pick?”

“You pick.”

It’s not the easiest thing in the world, crawling to the bookshelf with a three-year-old tucked into his arm, but he does what he needs to do, and props the two of them against the wall.  He grabs the first book he recognizes, a worn copy of Where the Wild Things Are, and lowers his voice in the way he always does when he’s trying to get Evan to sleep.

It doesn’t take long until Evan is snoring lightly against his neck, and George is more than content to just sit there and scroll on his phone until someone tells him to do otherwise.

It’s exhausting feeling like he needs to be on, but more than that it’s stressful feeling like his worthiness to be in Evan’s life is being questioned.  Even if no one says it to his face, he knows it’s what they’re all wondering.  And the thing is he knows he does belong there, he knows he’s a good influence in Evan’s life, and the evidence of the little boy’s love for him is right here in his arms.  He doesn’t think he has to worry about his place in Evan’s life—or Dream’s—but it certainly has him a little extra on-edge today.

Evan’s been out for about half an hour when Dream comes to check on them, and the first thing he does is pull out his phone to capture a picture of the two of them.

“Simp,” George scoffs.  “You just love seeing me with him.”

“I’m never going to argue with that,” Dream responds, taking a seat next to them.  “How you doing?”

“I’m okay,” George shrugs.  “It’s just, y’know.” He gestures vaguely with his hand.  “A lot.”

“Yeah, there are a lot of people here,” Dream nods sympathetically, but that’s not quite it.  George has never minded being around people, at least not to a certain degree.  It’s more a matter of who they are and why he’s there that’s stressing him out, and he doesn’t think he knows how to explain that to Dream without making it sound like he doesn’t like his family—which couldn’t be further from the truth.

“It’s not that,” he begins anyways.  “It’s, just…does your mum like me?”

He can tell the question catches Dream off-guard, which is fair considering that George hadn’t even planned to ask that question until the words left his lips, but now that it’s out there he needs to know.

“Does she—George, what?  Of course she likes you,” Dream frowns.  “Like, the whole time you’ve been back here she’s just been talking about how good you are with him and how much he adores you and how well you fit in with us.  Are you worried she doesn’t?”

George shrugs, leaning his head on Dream’s shoulder.  “Dunno.  Just feeling like a bit of an outsider, I guess.  They’ve all known him since he was a baby, y’know?  And I’m so…new.  I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, I guess.”

“ Baby,” Dream murmurs, turning to press a kiss to the top of his head.  “I promise.  You belong here.  Everyone loves you.  Okay?”

“Okay,” George sighs.  “I trust you.”  He glances down at Evan, then, running a finger softly across his cheek.  “Should we wake him up?  We can do presents first and then cake once he’s more awake.”

“Good plan,” Dream agrees.  “And good call on the nap.  I, uh, actually hadn’t even considered how early he was up this morning,” he admits sheepishly.  “I guess it makes sense why he was being so clingy.”

“Figured no one wanted a meltdown during cake time,” George grins down at Evan, beginning to jostle him just enough to wake him up slowly. “Hey baby, you with us?”

Evan mumbles sleepily and shakes his head, and it reminds him so much of waking Dream up in the mornings.

“Would you be with us if we told you it was time to open presents?” Dream tries, and it certainly gets his attention as his eyes start to blink open.

“Me day?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah, baby, still you day,” George grins, shifting them around so that Evan is sitting up. “Presents and cake, doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Yeah,” Evan nods, still a bit foggy but definitely warming up to the idea of rejoining the party.

“What about you?” Dream asks, question directed to George this time.  “You ready?”

“Yeah, idiot,” George grins.  “I’m ready.”

Evan keeps his spot on George’s lap while he opens presents, George helping him with the wrapping paper while Dream passes them boxes and bags from various family members.  He tries not to feel too self-conscious about everyone watching him, and it’s easy to get lost in Evan’s happy laughter as the gifts (and wrapping paper) reignite his interest in the party.

He finally separates himself from George once they’ve cut the cake, the sugar filling him with a burst of energy that simply requires him to run laps around the living room.  He’s definitely going to crash again on the way home, both he and Dream know it this time, but it’s a small price to pay for how much fun he’s having.

It’s then that Dream’s mom gets his attention, nodding to a door off the back of the kitchen, and, only a little bit confused, he follows her to what he discovers to be the laundry room.  It’s quieter in here, the door muffling Evan’s screams and the laughter of the grownups watching him, and George allows the lavender scent of the detergent to calm him.

“It’s hard to have a conversation with all the noise out there,” she comments, her smile kind and welcoming.  “We’ve hardly even got introduced properly.”

“I suppose not,” George lifts the corner of his mouth in a half-grin and sticks his hand out to her.  “I’m George, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You really are a sweet boy,” she replies, and George isn’t sure how that correlates, but clearly she knows more than he does so he doesn’t question it.  “Are you okay with hugs?”

The question catches him a bit off guard, but he nods and accepts her outstretched arms.  It makes him miss his own mother, all the way back in London.  It’s been months since he’s been home at this point, not since last summer for a few weeks before the fall semester started up, and while he doesn’t usually miss England that much, he often misses his family.

“I just wanted to thank you for how happy you make them,” she murmurs.  “Everything I’ve heard about you, everything I’ve seen today…I think you’ll be sticking around for a while, won’t you?”

“Yes ma’am,” George agrees, because if there’s one thing he knows, it’s that Dream and Evan are it for him.  “I—I plan to, for sure.  For as long as they’ll have me.”

“Well, speaking as someone who was there for all of Clay’s high school girlfriends,” she smirks secretively, “I would say you’re quite the step up.  I know the rest of our family can see that too.  And, oh, the way Evan just adores you…it’s so hard as a parent to watch your kids go through some of the things that he’s had to go through in the past few years.  It’s been so lonely at times, and we always told him that he needed someone other than Nick in his life.  I just don’t think we could have imagined anyone better for him than you.”

George’s cheeks heat up from the praise, and he has to bite his lip against the wide grin that threatens to break out.  “I love him a lot,” he admits shyly.  “I love them both a lot.”

“I can tell,” she nods.  “Anyone who sees you together can tell.”  She pulls him into another tight squeeze before adding, “Anyways, that was it.  I just wanted to ask you to keep taking care of them, and to welcome you to the family.”

And George just nods against her shoulder as his heart threatens to explode out of his chest.  He has to take an extra moment after she rejoins the party just to make sure he’s not going to do anything stupid like burst into tears, and when he finally collects himself again, he pushes the door open and is immediately hit with the same buzz as before, but it feels less oppressive this time.  Less like something other and more like home.

He finds Dream first, drawn to his side like a magnet as he wraps an arm around his waist.  They fit so seamlessly together, George feels like they morph into a single being every time they’re close.  A collective parental unit his brain supplies before he can put a stop to it, and then he thinks that maybe it’s okay if he thinks about things like that from time to time now.

“Hmm, you okay?” Dream hums as he presses a kiss to the top of his head.

And George takes it all in—him and Dream, Sapnap, who’s quickly becoming one of George’s best friends too, Dream’s huge family that George thinks could start to feel like his own, and Evan, the center of it all, of his entire universe—and thinks that okay doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Evan sees him from across the room and launches himself at him, and he and Dream manage to catch him in between them, forever in sync.

“Hi Gogy,” he greets with a giggle, pure childlike happiness radiating from every sound he makes and it must be contagious because George feels like he’s soaring through the sky, hundreds of feet off the ground.

“Hi, Evie,” he responds. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Evan echoes back, leaning in to smack a wet kiss to his nose, then doing the same to Dream’s cheek, and George already knows it’s coming when he tries to push their heads together.  Dream smirks at him, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly before closing the distance between them.  Their lips meet, and George’s heart leaps in his chest as it’s filled with the feeling of family .

This is my family he thinks to himself.  This is my family .

And how lucky he is to have found them.

—

One Year Later

“Evan, honey, please stay where I can see you,” George pleads, upping his gait to keep up with the energetic four-year-old.  George has been on pickup duty all week with Dream and Sapnap both buried in exams and graduation prep, and he thinks Evan can sense that something big is happening with the way he’s practically vibrating by the time George comes for him on Friday afternoon.

Usually, he would want to stay and play at the playground with his new friends for a bit, but today he’s nearly taking off down the street the second his backpack is in George’s hands.  They live close enough to the school that Evan knows the way home by heart, and while most of the time George is endlessly amazed by how much the kid can do, right now he’s kind of missing the days where Evan would stay glued to his side in public.

“You’re a slowpoke,” Evan whines, and it’s about fifty-fifty if he picked up the insult from one of his classmates or from Sapnap.

“Yeah, well, I’m old,” George shrugs.  “I can’t run like you do, so why don’t you stay back here and walk with me, hmm?”

“ Fine,” he huffs, reaching up to take George’s hand without having to be asked.  No matter how many times it happens, or how long it’s been, such simple displays of trust and affection from Evan never fail to make his heart sing.  George makes it a point to soak up every second of it he gets now, dreading the day Evan becomes too “cool” to hold his hand while they walk home from school.

Dream teases him about it sometimes, how worried he gets about Evan growing up as if he’s not the exact same way.  But in George’s defense, he still feels new at this.  He’s only been here for half of Evan’s birthdays, less than half of his life.  He missed the feeling of his first steps and his first word, and he thinks somehow that just makes the moments he does have feel more fleeting.  He wants to grasp onto every possible second of life with Dream and Evan and never let it slip away.

“You’re in quite a good mood today,” George observes the bounce in Evan’s gait.  “Good day at school?”

Evan giggles and shrugs. “Love you, Gogy,” he deflects, and of course it always works, because nothing makes George melt like hearing those words come from his favorite person.

“Love you too, Evie,” he replies, squeezing his hand gently.

Both Dream and Sapnap are home when they get there, done with their last ever exams.  George drops Evan’s hand to greet his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist so that Dream can spin him around, pressing giggling kisses to every inch of skin he can reach.

“ God I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs.  “You did it, baby.  You really did it.”

“Jeez, I finished my exams too, and not so much as an acknowledgement,” Sapnap says with mock disappointment.  “Can you believe it, Ev?  All they care about is each other.”

“And me,” Evan adds, abandoning Sapnap’s side to hug Dream’s leg.  Carefully, George drops back to the floor so that Dream can pick Evan up and spin him around too.

“That’s right, buddy,” he laughs, causing Evan to giggle in response.  “We care about you so much.”

“See?” Evan taunts, sticking his tongue out at Sapnap.

“We care about Sapnap too,” Dream promises.

“I don’t,” George scoffs, and Dream glares at him.

“Gogy is kidding, of course,” he adds.  “Because I’m not relying on a four-year-old to understand sarcasm.”

“Evan understands me, don’t you bud?” George counters.  “Sapnap is stinky isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Evan makes a face in Sapnap’s direction, and Sapnap sticks his tongue out at him in retaliation. “Stinknap.”

“I’ll show you stinky, you little munchkin,” Sapnap taunts, whisking him out of Dream’s arms  and tossing him in the air.

Dream takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around George’s waist again, resting their foreheads together.

“Hi,” he murmurs.  “How’s it going?”

“Oh, y’know,” George waves a casual hand before resting it on the back of Dream’s neck, tangled in his curls.  “My boyfriend is a college graduate.”

Dream rolls his eyes with a scoff.  “Not yet, technically.  Tomorrow you can get all sappy and proud.”

“I can be sappy and proud any time I want, idiot,” George argues.  “I love you.”

“Woow,” Dream draws out the syllable, teasing.  “He loves me.  He’s a simp.”

“You’re one to talk about being a simp,” George huffs.  “You’re, like, the simp.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault I have the smartest, hottest, most amazing boyfriend in the universe, I can’t help it,” Dream returns, pressing a teasing grin to his forehead.

“Ugh, stop being nice to me, idiot, it’s supposed to be your day,” George whines.

“You’ve called me an idiot twice in this conversation,” Dream points out.  “Clearly one of us has to be nice.”

“I’m so nice, I’m, like, the nicest,” George argues.  “Fine, let’s go out tonight to celebrate.  Fine.  See?  I’m so nice I’m going to take you out tonight.”

“Hmm,” Dream thinks for a moment.  “How about you take me out tomorrow night after my actual graduation,” he suggests.  “I’ve actually got some things planned for tonight.”

“Oh, he’s got plans,” George teases, wiggling his eyebrows.  “He’s so busy and popular.”

“I meant with you, idiot, obviously,” Dream huffs.  “Is that okay?”  He asks so earnestly, as if there’s any universe where George would say no to him.

“ Obviously,” George repeats.  “Whatever you want, sweetheart.  This is your weekend.”

“ Our weekend,” Dream corrects gently.  “This weekend is for both of us.”

It’s really hard to argue with Dream when he’s looking at him so sweetly like that.

Sapnap begs off dinner, claiming that he does have friends outside of them, so it's just the two of them and Evan, and George wonders if it had been intentional, trying to give them time as a family.

It makes his stomach feel a bit funny to think of the three of them that way, especially independent from Sapnap.  It’s a distinction that makes sense, especially after over a year and a half of dating, but George still can’t help the imposter syndrome every so often.  Like his status as boyfriend makes him more temporary than people who had been there since the beginning.  And he knows it’s not true, obviously, there’s nothing temporary about them at all.  If there’s one thing they’ve made clear to each other, it’s that this is forever.  

He still thinks about it sometimes, though.

They don’t do anything fancy, since having a four-year-old really limits them in that regard, but there’s an Italian place off-campus that has Evan’s favorite mac cheese and it’s their go-to for special occasions.  Plus, it’s a nice night and they like walking through town, enjoy the time spent together.

Not to mention, he and Dream want to enjoy the campus, the place they met, while they still live here.

It’s not something they’ve decided for sure yet, or even something they’ve talked about in-depth, but Dream’s lease is up at the end of July and Sapnap has already let them know he plans on finding his own place, closer to downtown Orlando.  They haven’t renewed yet, but they also haven’t really started looking anywhere else.  

They’re walking side-by-side after dinner, Evan sitting on Dream’s shoulders and George’s hand linked with his, swinging effortlessly in between them.  It’s warm, the way Florida gets in late spring-becoming-summer, but late enough in the day that the sun has started to go down, making it a comfortable stroll.  Downtown has started to fill up with students heading to the bars to celebrate the end of the semester, and George wonders if in another life they would be doing that instead.  He’d never been the going-out type, but he thinks maybe Dream would be, and George would follow him anywhere.

“Hey, I have an idea,” Dream speaks up after a few minutes of walking in silence.  There’s something to his voice, a tremor that would be easily missed by anyone who’s not so closely attuned to everything about him, and up until that point George had assumed that the sweat between their palms had been due to the lingering warmth of the day, but now he wonders if maybe Dream is…nervous.

“Hmm?” George prompts him to continue.

“Wanna stop at our place for some hot chocolate?” he directs the question at Evan, who looks positively giddy at the prospect.  “Gogy can get his lemonade,” he adds. 

“Hmmm,” George pretends to think.  “I dunno if Evan wants to.”

“I do!  I do!” Evan responds eagerly.  “We have to.”

“Well, I don’t know if we have to,” George muses.  “But I think that would be alright with me.”

It’s only a slight detour from their current route, and one that George knows well from his days living on campus.  Evan carries the conversation, babbling something about going to the pool on Sunday since Dream won’t have homework anymore, so George doesn’t get another chance to gauge Dream’s temperament until they get there.  

Dream drops his hand and helps Evan down from his shoulders, and none of it is unexpected until, instead of reaching for the door, Dream drops to one knee, and George thinks he might black out.

Dream takes a deep breath, shaking a little on the exhale as he looks up at George with big, wet eyes.

“George?” he begins, and George just nods, not trusting his voice.  “We said this weekend was the start of our lives together, and this is the life I want.  Us, as a family.  You as my husband, as Evan’s dad.”  He sniffles a little, and George has to wipe his eyes so he doesn’t miss a second of this.  He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a tiny blank box, and George lets out a quiet sob.  “We want you forever, right Evie?”

“Yeah,” Evan nods, and Dream wraps an arm around him.  “Please?”

“We haven’t actually asked him yet, baby,” Dream reminds him with a watery chuckle that George can’t help but echo.  

“Oh yeah,” Evan gasps. “Do it!”

“Okay, okay, here goes.”  Dream takes another shaky breath, and George watches as a tear slips from his eye down his cheek.  “George?”  George nods. “Will you marry us?”

“ Yes,” he whispers, reaching down to take Dream’s hand.  Dream stands again and allows George to hold him close, arms wrapped around Dream’s waist and his face pressed into his neck as he lets himself sob. “ Yes, yes, yes, yes.”

“Y’hear that, baby?” Dream sniffles, lifting Evan to join their embrace, and George shifts to make room for him.  “He said yes!  That means we get him forever.”

“And ever and ever and ever!” Evan adds.  George nods, pressing a kiss to the top of Evan’s head.  There’s nowhere else he could imagine being in this moment: here, standing in front of the place where his life changed forever, with the two people who changed his life, promising to spend the rest of his life loving them.  It’s the easiest thing he’s ever agreed to.

“Forever and ever and ever.”