Work Text:
Listening to Dream type on his laptop makes George understand why some people are so into asmr.
He must be pressing lightly on the keys because it’s only a faint click, click as he answers his emails. George likes to listen and try to decipher what he’s writing, making a game out of it.
He can never figure it out, though, and Dream’s face is almost impossible to read when he’s at his most focused.
George shifts against the couch cushion, the top of his head pressing into the side of Dream’s thigh. He has a perfect view from down here. For staring, mostly.
Dream’s eyes don’t waver from the screen, not even when George presses into his leg again, and then again in an attempt to distract him.
George hates being bored.
He also hates when Dream is out of his reach, focused on other, probably stupid things.
Pay attention to me he almost says out loud, but if anything is stupid it would be that. So he stays quiet instead and shimmies upward, pushing his head into Dream’s lap, even though there isn’t really space for him, and then he settles there, snug under Dream’s forearm.
Dream makes a small, confused noise as his hands get forced off the keyboard.
George frowns up at him, but Dream is looking at him with all the sweetness in the world.
“George,” is all he says, in place of all the things he could have said, like what are you doing, you idiot, you’re in my way .
What George probably would have said if their roles were reversed.
“Hang out with me,” George says.
A smile plays on Dream’s lips. “I am hanging out with you.”
“No. You’re just in the same room as me. Ignoring me.”
He tries not to sound as pathetic as the words he is saying are, but he doesn’t think it works.
Dream grins and cards a hand through George’s hair, grabbing a handful of it and holding it. But George is kind of-not really mad at him right now, so he doesn’t feel like letting Dream have his fun. He butts the hand away with a frown, feeling stubborn and clingy and embarrassed about it.
Dream laughs. “Alright fine, let’s do something then. You little idiot.”
His fingers are back in George’s hair again, more gently this time.
George allows it, for now.
“But I don’t want to do anything,” he says.
Dream cocks his head at him all puppy like.
“I thought you wanted to hang out?”
George sighs. How does he explain that he does want to hang out and that he’s grateful for Dream’s soft voice and attention and that what he really wants is to do nothing at all – just together .
There’s no way he’s telling Dream all that, though, even if he wants him to know it.
Instead, he turns his head and presses his whole face into Dream’s stomach, hiding there even though it’s a little suffocating and a little too warm.
He can only guess the face Dream is making above him. Smiling, probably, even though he should be rolling his eyes and shoving George out of his way.
Nothing like that happens.
Dream sighs and mumbles a gentle, “Alright.”
It is followed by some shifting and then the weight of what feels like a blanket being spread over George’s back and shoulders. It’s warming in more ways than one.
George peeks this one eye out from his hiding spot, up at Dream.
Dream raises his eyebrows at him.
“There,” he says. “Happy?”
George feels warm, pleased and embarrassed at the same time.
It’s easier to slip his arms out from the blanket and wrap them tightly around Dream’s middle than actually answering.
“Is this what you wanted?”Dream asks, tangling his fingers in George’s hair.
“Yes,” George manages to admit. Then, muffled, “thank you.”
Dream shakes his head, letting out a laugh that George feels the buzz of through his sweater.
“I really have to like, read your mind sometimes to understand you.”
George shuts his eyes, stuck between burning up and melting and also falling asleep now that Dream is playing with his hair.
“Thanks for reading my mind,” he says.
Dream’s thumb smooths over his temple. “You are very welcome.”