Archive of Our Own

it started small.

just a cough here and there, a few sneezes, maybe a couple waves of nausea on occasion, but that was it. 

george ignored it. it wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary, so he figured it was nothing. it’s not like it wasn’t normal to feel weird at times, because it always went away. it was nothing.

or so he thought.

george had begun to suspect that maybe something was wrong when he woke up one time during the ungodly hours of the night to the worst headache, the pounding in his head so unbearable to the point where for a split second, he forgot who he was, where he was, and if he was even alive. 

unfortunately, the moment went away just as quick as it came and he was reminded that yes, he most definitely is alive when he’s hit with wave upon wave of nausea, hot flashes rushing through his entire body and seizing the breath from his lungs. 

blindly, he stumbles out of bed and heads towards the direction he thinks his bathroom is in, trying his very best to keep it all in before he reaches the toilet. 

he barely makes it.

as soon as his knees hit the hard tile in front of the bowl, he swears his entire soul leaves him. he heaves and coughs, gags and retches into the poor porcelain, breaking a sweat just from the force of it all. his head still pounds as he gets sick, and by the end of it, he’s completely drained of all his energy.

he passes out on his bathroom floor.

when he wakes up the following morning, he doesn’t feel much better. heat still ripples through him and his entire body aches. the pounding in his head is unforgiving, and his throat is so dry that he thinks he can taste the coarseness of sand from a desert, the grains scratching at his throat in an unpleasant manner. he was certain of one thing, and that was that he needed water. 

slowly but surely, he manages to heave himself onto shaky legs and make it back into his room. he takes a glance at his bed, and it’s so ridiculously tempting to fall back into its comfortable abyss. instead, he turns to his door, twisting the handle and being met with the naturally lit part of the rest of the house. the brightness of it takes him aback, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut, bracing himself for the long trek to the kitchen.

when he enters, dream is leaning against the counter, eating an apple and scrolling on his phone. he looks up before george even comes into view, despite his entrance being silent. but they didn’t need sound when dream could always sense his presence, no matter the time or place.

“hey, george,” he says as the brunet opens the fridge, pulling out one of their glass water bottles and taking a small sip. george just gives him a half-hearted smile, trying not to look like he’s on the verge of death. it doesn’t work very well.

“are you okay?” dream asks, his eyebrows pinching in worry. “you look really pale.”

george scoffs. “wow, thanks dream,” he tries to joke, but the scratch in his voice gives him away. “great to know that florida isn’t blessing me with gorgeous tanned skin.”

“okay, you know what i mean, idiot,” dream smiles, his voice softening. “are you feeling okay, though? you look like you really don’t feel good.”

“i’m fine,” he shrugs. “just tired.” 

by the look on the blond’s face, george can tell he doesn’t believe him in the slightest. 

“are you sure?”

“yes, dream.”

he studies him for a second, eyes trailing up and down george’s body in a way that makes him feel small and exposed, almost naked. he doesn’t like it a single bit. 

“…okay,” dream says hesitantly, still watching the brunet closely. 

george grabs a small snack from their pantry even though he knows he probably won’t be able to stomach it, and then he turns to leave, not wanting to blow his cover any further. 

“call me if you need anything?” dream asks from behind him. george just hums, trudging back down the hallway. he sets his water and bag of chips on his nightstand, not even thinking to take medicine of some sort before he’s falling back into his bed, passing out within seconds.

when he wakes up again, george feels even worse than he did the other two times, which he didn’t think was even possible. his head was searing in pain, and he could feel the layer of stale sweat covering his body. he felt like he was on fire, yet his whole body trembled as if he went for a swim in the arctics. nausea curled in his stomach, even though he swore he didn’t have anything left in him to throw up.

he sits up and immediately feels lightheaded, the room spinning in complete circles and fuck, he’s either gonna be sick again or he’s gonna pass out. 

despite his doubts of being able to stand, he attempts it anyway. george swings his legs over the bed, and that’s when he finds out that one, he’s definitely going to be sick again, and two, he cannot walk on his own.

in a panic, he grabs his phone and quickly dials dream’s number as the turmoil in his stomach rises at an alarmingly fast rate. this was the very last thing he wanted, but low and behold, here he is, completely out of options. he needed to get to the bathroom and this was his only way to it, unless he’d rather puke all over his bedroom floor, which was not the case. if that happened, he’d end up having to call dream or sapnap anyway. this was by far the better option.

the phone doesn’t even fully ring once before the line on the other end picks up. 

“george? are you okay?” dream asks, his voice urgent and full of concern.

“dream,” george croaks, his throat lined with sandpaper and scraping uncomfortably at his vocal cords. “come. now.”

he doesn’t even get the chance to pull the phone away from his face before the line disconnects, and he can distantly hear hurried footsteps thumping down the hallway. another second passes, then his door is swinging open and dream is rushing to his side like a worried mother with an injured child.

“george?” he whispers, his hands held out in front of him, crowding george’s space in the blink of an eye.

“help,” the latter says, reaching toward the blond as he gags. “‘m gonna be sick.”

dream says nothing else, instead he just slings one of george’s arms around his shoulders and lifts him up. he guides them to the bathroom as quickly as he can, setting george down in front of the toilet and waiting for the inevitable.

he doesn’t have to wait long, because as soon as george is there, he’s throwing up into the toilet. well, sort of.

because he had already gotten sick, the second round is mostly just him dry heaving. but when something does come out, it’s combination of stomach acid and water. tears fall unwillingly from george’s eyes as his body convulses, and he thinks he might die right there. he can’t breathe and his body is pulled taught from all the tension and god, he hates throwing up. the only comfort he feels is when dream combs his fingers through his hair, keeping it pulled away from his face as he gets sick. george aches at the simple yet sweet gesture, his entire being overwhelmed with the intensity of everything happening. the juxtaposition of his body causing him pain and agony while the boy behind him offers him nothing but unconditional love is almost too much to handle.

he finally finishes after a few minutes, convinced that surely now there’s nothing left he can possibly give. he slinks back into the dirty blond behind him, his whole body going limp against a broad chest. dream continues to run his fingers through george’s hair, watching him as he breathes heavily, his eyes drooping in exhaustion. his heart squeezes at the sight. 

“think you’re done?” he asks, gently wiping the tear tracks from george’s cheeks. through the chaos that comes with puking, the older boy hadn’t even realized he’d been crying, or when it even started, but he assumed it was just due to exhaustion. he hums in response to dream, and they sit for a little while longer on his bathroom floor. george is almost asleep again until dream moves behind him, shifting so he can stand up.

“alright,” the blond sighs, keeping a steady grip on george’s arm as he rises to his feet. “let’s get you back into bed, yeah?” 

george whines in protest. 

“c’mon, george. i promise it’ll be a lot more comfortable. it’ll take two seconds.”

the brunet groans, but allows himself to be pulled up as the taller makes sure not to move him too fast so he doesn’t make him dizzy. as soon as he’s upright, he immediately leans into dream, seeking the comforting warmth of him. dream just laughs quietly and holds him close, guiding him back to his room.

“have you had any medicine?” he asks once george is safely tucked into his bed. george just hums again.

“i need verbal responses, george. can you do that for me, please?”

“mmm, no,” george slurs, his eyes already beginning to close. “i haven’t had medicine yet.”

“well in that case,  i’ll be right back. stay awake, okay? we just need to get some tylenol in you and then you can sleep for as long as you want. okay, george?”

“m’kay,” george mumbles, sinking farther into his bedsheets.

“don’t fall asleep. i’ll be right back. just a few more minutes, then you can sleep.”

george doesn’t respond or even register the other boy leaving, and when he comes back, it feels as if he was never gone. he gets george to sit up, giving him two pills and his glass of water that was still sitting on his nightstand, right where he had left it. george downs them easily, taking an extra sip of water to soothe his throat before he’s laying back down.

“good?” dream asks. “do you need anything else?” 

george peers up at him with tired eyes. i need you to stay, he wants to say. stay and take care of me. i need you here. i don’t want to be alone.

instead, he just shakes his head, having no more excuse for dream to be there. he helped the brunet with what he needed, and now he just needs rest. there’s no reason for dream to be present for that, but fuck, george wants him to be next to him when he wakes up. he wants to curl into his side and carve his name into dream’s ribs and make a home in him. 

after so long of being apart, george doesn’t think he can bear another second without dream’s presence because knowing he’s here but still being apart from him somehow hurts worse than not having him at all. now that he knows the feeling of being wrapped securely in dream’s arms, he doesn’t think he could need anything more, especially in a state of vulnerability like the one he’s in now. even the simplest touch from the blond is enough to make george forget all of his troubles and worries, focusing merely on the boy he decided to drop everything and move across the world for.

“wait,” george blurts when dream starts towards the door. his cheeks burn as the younger boy turns to look at him.

“yes?” he asks.

george hesitates. is he really doing this right now?

fuck it, he thinks.

“stay,” he whispers, biting the bullet and feeling his throat close up. “please.”

george doesn’t know if it actually happens or if it’s just his delirium talking, but he swears he sees dream’s lips curl into a small smile before he’s approaching his bed again. 

he sits on the edge of the bed next to george’s leg, placing a gentle hand on the brunet’s shin and rubbing his thumb against it soothingly. george watches him with droopy eyes as he does it, and his heart feels so achingly full with adoration that he thinks he could pass away right here, quite literally on his death bed, and he’d die happy.

“you really don’t feel well, huh?” dream hushes into the quite air, his voice ridiculously soft. george hums in response, not having the energy to spit some snarky remark like he usually would.

“how come you didn’t tell me earlier?” dream asks, a slight frown overtaking his face. george wants to kiss it off. 

“didn’t want you to worry,” he mumbles, his eyes slowly beginning to close once again. “‘m fine.”

“george, you’re literally grey in the face. i don’t think you’re fine. actually— we should probably take your temperature, yeah? see how high your fever is. just to make sure it’s nothing concerning.”

george just heaves a sigh, the weight of his eyelids becoming far to heavy to remain open. “i guess.”

“i’m gonna go grab a thermometer real quick. i’ll be back soon, okay?”

“‘kay.”

dream leaves again and is back in a flash, and suddenly george’s mouth is being coaxed open so the thermometer can be laid under his tongue, the cold metal feeling odd against it. it beeps after about thirty seconds, and dream removes it. 

“103.2,” he says, his voice slightly wavering with anxiety. “definitely gotta keep an eye on it. how about we get you some rest now? how’s that sound?”

“mmm,” george grumbles, eyes drooping and closing for good. he sinks further into his pillow, reaching for dream’s hand. “don’ leave.”

“i’m not leaving, george,” dream soothes, running his opposite hand through george’s soft hair. “i’ll be right here.”

“lay down,” he slurs, drifting further and further into dreamland as he weakly tugs on the blond’s wrist. “h’ld me.”

he feels dream stand up from beside him, and then a few seconds later the mattress dips next to him and he’s being pulled into a familiar warm embrace. he curls into dream’s side, nuzzling into his sweater and inhaling the comforting scent of him. 

“sleep, baby,” dream whispers into his hair, and george is far too drowsy to register the pet name. “feel better.” he places a soft kiss into his hair.

george falls asleep within seconds.

—

the roads of london are dark and freezing. streetlights flicker as george sprints past them as fast as he can, his breath coming out in puffs behind him. someone’s chasing him, but he doesn’t know who or why. all he knows that it’s either run for your life or die.

icy rainwater whips george in the face as he runs, desperately trying to keep his footing as the sidewalk becomes slippier and slippier. he can hear the person behind him gaining on him, so he pushes himself to go faster. hot tears run down his face as his breathing becomes more ragged, and god, he needs to get out of here.

“dream!” he finds himself screaming. “dream! sapnap! somebody help!” he repeats it over and over until his voice becomes hoarse, his vocal cords tearing at the seams. he’s gonna die here, alone and cold. he’s going to be brutally attacked by this stanger and nobody is around to save him.

“run faster, george,” a voice hisses behind him, and george lets out a sob. “i’m catching up to you.”

“leave me alone!” he cries out, his legs going numb as he treks on and on and on. “i’ll do anything you want, just let me go, please!” his tears are falling relentlessly now, and all george wants is to be safe in his bed back in florida, with patches laying on his chest and kneading biscuits into his shirt. he wants to go home.

eventually george runs himself too ragged and he’s forced to stop, and his legs feel so much like jello that he nearly collapses. he hunches over, his hands on his thighs as he desperately tries to slow his breaths and his far-too-fastly beating heart. tears continue to drip down his face as he prepares for the inevitable, knowing that the stranger will be here in seconds, and his fate will be sealed. 

minutes pass, and george is finally able to slow his breathing. he refuses to look up, knowing that the unknown person is just waiting there, ready to strike at a single glance. he keeps his eyes trained to the brick sidewalk, feeling as teardrops from zeus himself continue to rain down on him. it’s not pouring, it’s just a little sprinkle, but george has been out here so long that his shirt is drenched, and he thinks that if this mystery person doesn’t kill him soon, then hypothermia will beat them to it. 

“come on,” he mutters, teeth clenched against the unforgiving cold. “kill me already. you know you want to.”

he’s given no response other than the trickle of rain. he squeezes his fists together, anger and adrenaline building inside him to the point where he’s shaking, and his breathing picks up again. 

“did you hear me? i said KILL ME!” he snaps, forcing his head up to look around, ready to defend himself against his attacker. however, he finds himself standing alone, not another being in sight. relief and exhaustion floods his system all at once, and he collapses to the ground, pulling his knees to his chest.

i’m alive, he thinks, still breathing heavily. i’m alive.

his gives himself a few minutes to calm down from whatever the fuck just happened, and then he’s finally able to really take in his surroundings. 

he’s on his old street in london, directly across the road from his old flat. it looks the same as he remembers. it’s still the exact door that he walked out of for the last time all those months ago. george finds that he doesn’t miss it in the slightest. he despises the place more than anything.

“no,” he whispers to himself, shaking his head. “no, i’m not here. this isn’t real.” and it can’t be, because how could he possibly be here when mere moments ago he was in florida? he’s been there for months, and not once has he ever thought about coming back to the place that caused him so much pain and loneliness. the place that caused him to spiral into a never-ending pit of depression. he never wanted to come back.

so why was he back in this godforsaken place? or did he never leave? was being in florida all just a dream and this was him finally waking up to an awful reality? had he never truly left?

there were too many questions he didn’t have the answer to. his head was pounding due to the adrenaline dump, and he felt absolutely exhausted. he didn’t have the energy to think about it. 

however, whether it was real or not,  he did know that he wanted that apartment door out of his sight. so, he slowly rises to his feet again using the rest of his will, his legs tremoring as he balances himself. his vision goes spotty and his head spins from standing up too quickly, and he has to lean against the wall to keep himself from falling over. the feeling of brick and cement against his hand is cold and rough. his lip curls in hatred. 

he turns and walks down the sidewalk to the next row of english apartments, eager to leave this place behind. he goes far enough so that he can no longer see his old house. 

except… wait a minute. yes he can see it , because suddenly he’s right back where he started, in front of the flat that he just walked away from. 

what the fuck, george thinks, his brain frazzled and confused. what is happening. 

he shakes it off and continues down the road until he stops again, only to be confronted by his own personal hell once more.

he picks up his pace, beginning to speed walk down the sidewalk as anxiety piques in his chest. i just wanna get out of here. 

the same street passes him in a constant loop, and george is convinced he’s losing his mind. he starts running again, desperate to get away from the place he promised himself he’d never see again.

the same row of apartments continuously whips past him, and george feels like he’s on a treadmill, running as fast as he can all to no avail. 

he’s stuck here. forever. he’s never going to leave england, he’s never going to get his visa and he’s never going to meet his best friends. 

tears spring to his eyes again at that thought, and he squeezes them shut. 

i’m never going to meet them. i’m stuck here. it was all just a dream.

still determined to get away despite his realization, george runs and runs and runs and he knows he won’t stop until he’s so exhausted that he drops. 

he breathes heavily through clenched teeth as he pushes his legs to their limit, and eventually they give out.

he falls face first into the concrete road, masochistic satisfaction rolling through him in waves at the pain it brings. he just lays there, letting himself breathe so quickly he might be hyperventilating, and tears fall relentlessly from his closed eyes. the ground is cold from the hard rock being mixed with rain, wetness seeping into his cheek as it rests against the road. his lungs are on fire and his heart is pounding against his sternum so hard it might burst out of his chest, but he’s never felt so at peace. 

—

“george.”

“george, wake up, please.”

when consciousness reaches him, george shoots up in his bed with a gasp, his heart racing and breaths heaving as if he’d just ran a marathon.

“hey, hey, you’re okay,” a gentle voice says next to him, but george doesn’t miss the tinge of panic mixed with it.

his eyes snap to the person, and the relief that washes over him at the sight of his best friend is almost crushing.

dream. 

only a second passes before the dirty blond is pulling him into his arms, tucking george’s head under his chin. he continues shushing him soothingly, rubbing his back in attempt to calm the older boy.

“it’s okay, george. it was just a dream, i’m here. you’re okay.”

george can hear his words but none of them make sense. all he can think about is how salty warmth flows down his face and fuck, he can’t breathe.

“i was trapped,” george rambles, gasping for breath in his state of hysteria. “i was stuck. i couldn’t leave. i was gonna be stuck there forever.”

“where were you stuck, baby?” dream says into his hair, pressing a light kiss there. it calms george minimally. 

“london. i was in london, and i was stuck, dream. i just— i kept running and running but i couldn’t leave, and i was being chased, and—“

“woah, hey. george, look at me.” the brunet complies. “let’s try and calm down a bit and we can talk about it after, yeah? you’re really worked up right now.”

george silently nods, peering at dream with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks.

“i’m gonna grab your hand, okay?” dream says, watching the older boy carefully. “is that okay?”

george nods again, appreciation for his best friend flooding through him. dream follows through with his words and gently grasps george’s hand, bringing it up to rest on his sternum, right where his heart is. he doesn’t move his own hand, though; instead he keeps it placed right on top of george’s, overlapping it as if he’s trying to protect it. 

“just try and match my breathing pattern. feel my heartbeat. it’s gonna be okay, george. just take deep breaths with me.”

george lets out a small whimper, closing his eyes and trying to focus on nothing but the way dream’s chest slowly rises and falls against his hand. he struggles a bit due to his mind still running rampant with panic, but he tries his best to match it, feeling the way dream’s heart steadily thumps against his palm. it’s grounding.

“there you go,” dream whispers, giving george’s hand a small squeeze. “just like that. you’re doing so well, honey.”

george’s breath hitches at the pet name, his heart clenching in his chest. he opens his eyes to meet dream’s, and he finds nothing but fondness and gentle reassurance in soft viridian. he suddenly wants to cry again, not out of panic, but out of love. he needs more than anything to be close to the dirty blond. 

“can i—“ he cuts himself off, knowing he doesn’t need to finish because dream will already know what he means. they’ve always been like that, always able to read each other so well. dream only confirms this when he opens him arms out invitingly to george, knowing exactly what he needs. the brunet falls forward to collapse into his arms, finding warmth and comfort in the taller’s body. he rests his head on dream’s chest, grounding himself on the way he holds him, focusing on the way dream trails his hands up and down his body, rubbing his arms and back soothingly.

this is what home feels like.

“okay?” dream murmurs into george’s hair, resting his cheek on the crown of his head. the brunet nods, taking another deep breath. now that he’s calmed down, all the fatigue from his illness comes rushing back into him, and he’d do anything to be able to fall asleep right here forever, wishing that his subconscious wouldn’t haunt him of his past when all he was trying to do was rest.

“let’s take your temperature again,” dream says, reaching over to retrieve the thermometer from the nightstand, all while keeping george wrapped in his arms. 

he holds it up to the brunet’s mouth. “open,” he coaxes, and george complies, opening his mouth just enough so the thermometer to be placed under his tongue for the second time that day. they sit in silence as they wait for the telltale beep that will reveal his body temperature. it comes quick, the little screen reading four small numbers. 

“102.8,” dream mumbles, glancing at george. “it’s going down, but not by much. we’ll have to check it again later.”

george hums, resting his head back against dream’s chest. he listens to the steady thump of the younger man’s heart, breathing out a sigh as he allows it to put him at ease. it’s in this position, pressed so close to the person he loves the most, the blond’s arms wrapped securely around a smaller body, that george feels the safest. he’s never doubted that dream would protect him in any situation, no matter how severe it was. he’s protecting him even now, if not from something physical then from the demons in his mind making up his worst nightmares. but with dream here, george knows nothing could ever hurt him.

“do you feel like you can talk about your dream now?” the taller boy asks after a few minutes, resting his cheek against the crown of george’s head. 

he takes a moment to respond, trying to figure out where to even begin. so much had happened in such a flash, and he’s still trying to process it all.

“i…” he trails off, at a loss for words. “i was…”

“take your time,” dream whispers, kissing george’s forehead that's still warm with fever. he makes a mental note to make george some soup after this, hoping that it might help bring it down some more. 

“i remember i was running,” george begins, keeping his voice low and quiet. “i was in london. it was nighttime, and it was raining. someone was behind me chasing me, but i don’t know who it was. they were trying to hurt me.” he pushes his face into dream’s neck, desperate to be as close to him as he could manage. 

“i was so scared, dream,” he whispers, willing himself to not start crying again. “it was terrifying. i remember screaming for you and sapnap but nobody came. i was all alone, just running and running until i couldn’t anymore. then the person just… disappeared. they were gone and i was by myself on the street of my old flat. i wanted to leave so i tried to walk away from it, but i’d always end up right back to it. i kept trying to run away but i’d just go back to where i started, like i was trapped and couldn’t escape. it felt so real. i thought florida had just been a dream.”

he curls his fingers into the collar of dream’s crewneck, hoping that it would give him some sort of sense that he’s actually here and dream is real. it was still hard to believe sometimes, especially now. 

“george,” dream speaks up for the first time in minutes. “hey, look at me?” george looks at him. “you’re here. this is real. that dream you had? that wasn’t real. you’re in florida, you live with us, okay? you’re not going anywhere.”

and he hugs george, circling his arms tighter around him and holding him close. george loops his arms around dream’s neck, breathing in his scent and relaxing at the comfort of it. he sags in dream’s arms, allowing himself to be held. he brings his hands up and tangles them in dirty blond hair, heaving a sigh.

“i like your curls,” george mumbles, his face still pressed against dream’s neck.

“yeah?” dream asks, and george doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling.

“yeah,” he breathes. “they’re soft.”

dream chuckles, giving george a light squeeze. 

“i don’t feel good,” george groans, his head spinning. now that his mind wasn’t running so rampantly, he becomes more aware of how raw his throat is, feeling like claws were scratching at him every time he swallowed. he’s also painfully conscious of how dried sweat covers his entire body, how he still has a headache, and how badly his mouth is parched from dehydration.

“i know, baby,” dream soothes, rubbing his hands up and down his back. “want me to make you some soup? it might help you feel better.”

“i d’nno if i can keep it down. still feel sick.” 

“let’s try a little bit, okay? you need some energy.”

george lets his eyes droop. “don’ want you to leave.”

“i won’t be long,” dream reassures. “i’ll make it quick. i’ll come back as soon as it’s done, okay?”

“m’kay,” george says, surrendering himself, allowing dream to hold his entire being in his gentle arms, trusting that he’ll take care of him. he knows that dream will come back. he knows he’ll do everything in his power to make him feel better. 

dream shuffles them around as carefully as he can, moving george back to his resting place on his mattress so he can stand. 

“i’m gonna get a wet cloth to put on your forehead. it might help bring your fever down. does your head hurt?”

george nods sleepily at him, peering up to look at him with doe eyes. dream gives him a soft smile before he’s departing to george’s bathroom, returning shortly with a damp washcloth in hand. he brushes george’s hair back to lay it across his forehead, and george nearly lets out a sob at the instant relief it brings.

“better?” dream asks. 

“much better,” george replies, closing his eyes again. “thank you.”

“of course.” dream grabs the brunet’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. george knows it’s his way of saying he’s leaving. he almost protests, but when dream leans down to mumble, “i’ll be back,” and places a whisper of a kiss to the apple of george’s cheek, all of his concerns melt away. 

he doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but when dream returns with his soup, he’s being shaken awake.

“george, hey,” dream says, coaxing him to consciousness. “i have your soup.”

george groans, turning his back to dream and stuffing his face into his pillow. it makes dream laugh. 

“come on, don’t be stubborn. you gotta eat.”

george groans again in response. 

dream sighs dramatically. “alright, george. i didn’t wanna have to do this, but you leave me no choice.” and suddenly george is being scooped into strong arms and he yelps, then he’s being sat back down again, this time in dream’s lap, facing him. he gives the taller boy a disgruntled glare as he folds his arms, which only makes him giggle.

“hi,” dream says, stupidly grinning at george like a man in love. “good morning, sleepyhead.”

george rolls his eyes, turning himself in dream’s lap and leaning back against his chest. he turns his head to hide in the crook of dream’s neck, shielding his eyes from the minimal amount of light that shines into the room behind his curtains. ever since this whole thing started, george has completely forgotten the concept of time, and he has no idea what time it is or how many days have passed since his symptoms first began.

“george, c’mon, you need to eat,” dream says, carding his fingers through the brunet’s hair. it’s a bit greasy, but he doesn’t comment on it. he knows it’s been days since george has showered, if the texture of his hair and the smell of sweat and body odor says anything, but he’s sick, alright? he hasn’t had the energy to stand under warm water long enough to take care of himself. he’s hardly even been awake.

“feed me, then,” george grumbles into dream’s neck. “‘m tired.”

“okay, your majesty,”  dream teases, squeezing george’s waist as he laughs. “at your service.”

george hums. “yeah. i’m a king. serve me.”

“you are not a king,” dream chuckles. he pulls george further into his chest, not being able to help the cheeky grin that grows on his face. if george has enough energy to make his usual sassy remarks, then that must be a sign that he’s feeling better. “you’re a princess, if anything.”

george scoffs. “how am i a princess?”

“well, for starters,” he leans over to retrieve the steamy bowl of mixed vegetables and chicken broth, “you’re demanding me to feed you. you also make me drive you everywhere… buy you stuff…”

“okay, stop.” george snatches the bowl from dream, suddenly having enough energy to feed himself. “‘m not a princess.”

it pushes a giggle out of dream. “sure you aren’t.”

he lets george eat in peace, the room filled with silence save for the sounds of george spooning himself mouthfuls of his soup. it serves as white noise, and the two sit comfortably in the dimness of george’s room. 

“this is good,” george says, slurping another spoonful. “feels nice on my throat.”

“good,” dream smiles, resting his chin in the crook of the brunet’s neck. they’re extremely close, closer than they’ve ever been, but it’s not uncomfortable. it almost feels natural, as if the intimacy of their current proximity was just a part of their normal routine. dream wishes it was. and he knows it could be, because there’s no way that george doesn’t also see that there’s more than just friendship between them, but it’s also just always how they’ve been. they don’t need an official label to be how they’re being right now, because it’s them. dream and george. it’s all they need. but that doesn’t mean that dream doesn’t yearn for more. it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want the label or to make it official, because he wants that more than anything. 

“how are you feeling?” he asks. he keeps his voice quiet, mindful of the fact that his mouth is right next to george’s ear, and too much noise would probably shoot needles of pain through the brunet’s head. 

“still sick,” george answers, leaning further into dream. “but better than i was. i don’t feel as nauseous anymore, but my head still hurts a bit and my throat is killing me. i also just feel… gross. my skin is like— icky.”

“do you think you’ll have enough in you to shower? it’s been a few days.”

“i think so,” george sets the now empty soup bowl back on the nightstand. “i should be fine. but could you— uhm…”

“yes?”

“could you… stay in the bathroom with me? i just— i might get dizzy, and i don’t really wanna be alone.” dream doesn’t miss how the older boy intertwines his own hands together, a gesture he began to recognize that george does when he’s nervous. he takes one of his hands off of george’s waist to rest it on top of smaller, daintier ones.

“of course,” he murmurs, his voice so incredibly soft that it makes george want to burst into tears. “wanna go now?”

george nods his head silently, leaning into dream for a split second before moving to slide off his bed. 

“wait,” dream says, scrambling behind george to stand up before he can. when he’s upright, he holds his hand out for george, cracking a smile. the brunet rolls his eyes but takes it anyway, allowing himself to be pulled up.

“i’m not gonna break, dream,” he says, but he’s got a fond smile on his face out of appreciation for his best friend’s mindfulness and generosity.

“i know,” dream says, mirroring george’s expression. “just wanna help you.”

george doesn’t respond, he just continues gazing at dream. their hands are still interlocked between them, but neither of them move to disconnect them. they don’t even make an effort to advance towards george’s bathroom. instead, they stay where they are, all smiles and looks of love.

then, before dream can process what’s happening, there’s arms wrapping around his middle and a face nuzzling itself into his chest, and oh, george is hugging him.

he quickly returns the embrace, circling his arms securely around george’s shoulders and pulling him in. george lets out a sigh, and dream can feel the way his breath grazes the skin of his neck. goosebumps rise all over his body, and he refrains from shivering. 

“thanks for takin’ care of me,” george mumbles into the fabric of dream’s sweater. “for being here.”

“of course,” dream replies, pressing a faint kiss into george’s hair. “‘m always here for you. love you.”

“mmm,” george pulls back slightly to peer up at dream, locking him in place with his gaze. “me too.”

dream grins so hard he thinks his face will rip in half. “alright, let’s get you cleaned. you stink,” he teases.

george scoffs, allowing himself to be led into his bathroom. “as if that’s my fault. i literally haven’t been able to get out of bed.”

“i know,” dream says, gently squeezing his hand. “c’mon.”

they enter george’s bathroom, and the brunet decides to brush his teeth quickly before showering, scrubbing away the gross taste in his mouth. after he does that, it’s at that point that george realizes he hasn’t fully thought this through. he realizes that in order to shower, he has to undress, but dream’s in here and it would be weird if he watched him because they’re friends, but he really doesn’t want him to leave.

“can you, uhm…” george clears his throat in the awkward silence. “can you turn around, or something?”

dream seemed to be in a haze, but he snapped out of it at george’s words. “oh, yeah. sorry.”

the taller turns so that his back is facing george, and he closes his eyes for good measure. 

george takes a deep breath before slowly peeling off the shirt he’d been wearing for days, still slightly damp from sweat. he cringes, taking it all the way off and letting it drop to the floor. he then hesitantly hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats, and— okay, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly uncomfortable with dream here, even if he wasn’t looking. there was just something so intimate about dream being there in the first place. it felt like the crossing of a line they often dared to step over with one foot, but it was never something like this. it was almost like a confirmation that there was something more there, and that’s something the two have never dared to say, despite the both of them knowing it. now they were fully on the other side of the line, all thoughts of hesitance completely out the window. and though it was a bit uncomfortable and unfamiliar, george couldn’t deny that there was also a sense of normalcy in it all. it felt nice almost, having someone you could be this vulnerable with. and though they were just friends, george doesn’t think he could imagine himself being like this with anyone else. 

he steps out of the rest of his clothes, opening his linen closet to grab a towel. 

“don’t look yet, i’m not getting in,” george says as he opens the shower curtain just enough so that he can reach in and turn on the water. he twists the handle so it’s nearly fully on the hot side, then steps back. he allows the water to warm for about thirty seconds before checking it, cringing when he realizes he turned it too hot. he adjusts the handle again to a more comfortable temperature, then steps in.

“okay, you can look now.”

on the other side of the curtain, dream opens his eyes, the only visual of the brunet’s presence being the discarded pile of clothes on the floor. the taller boy clears his throat, hopping up to sit on george’s vanity. 

“okay,” he says, pulling out his phone. “i’ll be right here, george. just tell me if you need anything.”

“okay,” george responds, and then everything goes quiet save for the water that sprays out of george’s showerhead. the two boys stay in comfortable silence as george washes and scrubs away his sickly grime. it was definitely a well-needed shower, but he didn’t know just how gross he felt until it was all gone. by the end of it, he was left feeling refreshed and much better and a lot less sickly.

the creak of the shower handle and then the halt of water flow announces the end of george’s shower, the vicinity of the bathroom all fogged up and cloudy with steam despite him having turned on the exhaust fan beforehand.

as george goes to step out of the shower, he realizes that he completely forgot to grab a new set of clothes. fuck.

“hey, dream?” he calls out. 

“yeah?”

“could you get me some clothes? i kinda… uhm… forgot.”

he can hear the way the blond fondly scoffs, and he can only imagine the stupid smile that’s definitely on his face right now.

“sure, idiot. hang on.”

then there’s the sound of the bathroom door opening, then socked feet dragging along carpet that slowly fades as dream walks away. a couple of minutes pass before he hears the sound again, then the door closes once more.

“i picked out random stuff, so hopefully you don’t mind.”

“it’s fine,” george responds, one hand on the curtain. “can i come out now?”

dream snickers at the choice of words, then replies with, “sure you can, george.”

the brunet scoffs, rolling his eyes. “idiot,” he mutters under his breath, dragging the curtain open. 

dream is right where he was before george got in the shower, in front of the door with his back turned, his arms swinging by his sides. george lets himself stare for a moment before he grabs his clothes and dries off as quickly as possible.

once he’s fully dressed, he doesn’t even bother announcing it. instead, he walks up to the broad man standing before him and wraps his arms around him from behind, resting his head in the juncture between the dirty blond’s shoulder blades. he can feel the way dream slightly jumps in surprise before he settles into george’s touch, turning around to face him while keeping them connected.

“hi,” he mutters, brushing george’s wet bangs out of his eyes. “you’re soaking my sweater with your hair.”

george giggles, purposefully nuzzling his face further into dream’s chest, causing him to jump back with a yelp.

“hey!” he says accusingly, but there’s still a dopey grin on his face. “george, this is one of my favorite crewnecks!”

“oh, boohoo,” george mocks. “cry about it, dream. a little water won’t hurt anything.”

dream rolls his eyes. “whatever, idiot. let’s go back to bed.”

george snorts. “you would want to be in my bed, wouldn’t you.”

the blond scoffs, dragging george back into his room. “looks like someone’s feeling better. you’re back to your old ways, bullying me and shit.”

george huffs a laugh, settling back onto his mattress. “i’m not bullying you, i just like pushing your buttons. it’s funny . now come lay down. you’re officially my personal body pillow.”

“oh, am i?” dream says in a faux challenge, complying anyway and seating himself next to george on the bed. “says who?”

“says me, idiot. now hold me.” he snuggles closely against dream for the umpteenth time since he first got sick, and the blond is too smitten to even care about his wet hair anymore.

“you’re awfully clingy when you’re sick, you know that?” dream says endearingly, running a hand up and down george’s arm.

“am not,” george grumbles. “you’re just, like, a life sized teddy bear. you’re comfy and warm, and i’m sick. deal with it.”

dream chuckles, pulling the brunet closer to him as if he needs him like oxygen. in a way, for dream, he does. george is his oxygen. sometimes he genuinely thinks he couldn’t get through life without george. he’s his rock, someone he could trust to catch him when he falls, and to walk right beside him when he feels on top of the world. george is always there even when no one else is, and dream will never be able to express his gratitude for it. even during late nights when his mind is working itself too hard and keeping him from slumber, convincing himself of things that aren’t true when the online hate got to be too much, it was always george on the other side of a call, guiding and reassuring him through it. george has seen him at his ugliest, at his most vulnerable. they’ve spent hours on call while dream did nothing but sob and cry to him about all of his problems, and how suffocating it was at times. and despite it all, george stays. he stays, even when dream thinks he doesn’t deserve him and tries to push him away. 

the blond was always one to hope that soulmates exist, although being a bit unsure about it, but after he met george, everything clicked into place. as soon as they met, he never had a single doubt that george was his person, platonically or not. they were always destined to meet, fate sealing them together like superglue. and even though they’ve had their fair share of ups and downs, dream doesn’t think he could ever want this with anyone else, whatever it is that they have. he’d do it all over again if he had to.

“what are you thinking about?” george asks, snapping dream out of his haze. 

“hm?” the blond hums, meeting george’s gaze. dark chocolate eyes study him closely, as if he could read dream’s thoughts if he looked hard enough. maybe he could.

“i asked what you were thinking about.”

“oh,” dream laughs. “just… you, i guess. how grateful i am for you. how much i love you.”

george scoffs, rolling his eyes. “yeah, right. you’re so cliché, dream.”

“i’m serious,” dream says, kissing the crown of george’s head. “i was actually thinking about that.”

if george’s cheeks dust over with a light red shade, its because of his fever, not because he’s flustered. he never gets flustered, ever. actually, he’s never been flustered in his life. and definitely not because of dream. that would be absurd.

“you’re blushing,” dream giggles, poking george’s cheek. the brit just hides his face in dream’s neck, groaning.

“i’m not, ” he whines, fighting for his life. “i’m sick, dream. i’m ill. my body temperature is higher than normal, which means my cheeks are bound to be flushed. i’m not blushing. ”

“the fact that you feel the need to defend yourself that hard just proves it,” the blond laughs. “you’re flustered, georgie.”

george groans again, louder this time. “i hate you, get out of my room,” he says, weakly shoving at dream’s chest. his words have no bite to them, and he knows deep down that dream leaving is the last thing he wants.

“mmm, i don’t think i will,” dream pretends to ponder, still grinning like an idiot. “i’m quite content where i am right now.”

“yeah, of course you’re content with cuddling me. you’d cuddle me forever if you could, ‘cause you love me.”

“you’re literally the one that wanted to cuddle!” dream objects, appalled. “you were over here like, ‘oh, dream, hold me please! dream, feed me! dream, pamper me like i’m your baby!’”

“that is not what i said,” george interrupts, laughing at dream’s high pitched voice he put on to mock him.

“but basically, ” dream insists. “baby.”

george glances up from where he’s still tucked in dream’s neck, pulling back slightly to meet the taller’s sparkling eyes. “why do you keep doing that?” he asks. 

dream’s brows pull together. “doing what?”

“you’re like—  i don’t know. you keep calling me names and kissing me and stuff. you never do that this much. you usually only do it for a bit or something, but we’re alone right now. there’s no bit to make, but you’re still doing it. you keep, like, loving me. calling me baby and stuff. i guess it’s just confusing me a little.”

“well,” dream says, hugging george closer, “maybe it’s because i do love you.”

george smiles. “do you?”

“mhm, i do.” he kisses george’s temple, right next to his hairline. “besides, you pretty much are my baby already, so…”

“wh— dream! what?”

“what, are you gonna try and deny it? c’mon, george. let’s be real here. you love when i love on you. you love being my baby.”

“okay, stop,” george mutters, butterflies swarming his stomach. he does love it, but he’s not about to admit it.

“i’m serious, though,” dream mumbles into george’s hair. “you can— you can be my baby. like, actually. if you want.”

george scoffs. “you’re messing with me.”

“i’m not,” dream says, his tone a bit more serious. more real. “i’m not, george. i’m not kidding. look at me.”

he doesn’t want to, but he does anyway. he lifts his head to meet burnt umber with soft evergreen, and when he sees nothing but pure love in dream’s gaze, he can feel his heart burst with affection. 

god, he wants to kiss him.

“i love you, okay?” dream says, snapping george back into focus. “and i know you hear me say that to you so much, but i just need you to understand. i love you. like, with a capital L.”

george lets out a laugh at that, causing dream’s lips to curve into a smile. “i love you. i’m in love with you, and i have been for a long time. but i think you know that. we’ve both known it. it’s just been too scary to say, especially when you were still… you know.” when you were still an ocean away. george nods in understanding, encouraging him to go on. 

“but… i just— i can’t imagine feeling like this for anyone else. it’s like— it’s you or nothing, george. and i used to be so scared of messing this up once i realized that, which is why i never said anything. because you are so important to me. and losing you because of my dumb heart was just too terrifying to me. but… i don’t think i’m afraid anymore. i don’t think i need to be. i think you already know how i feel, but i guess this is me actually saying it. i love you, george. and i’d love to have so much more than friendship with you, but i just— i need to know that you want it too. and if you don’t, that’s perfectly okay, but…  i just want you to know. just in case you ever change your mind. i’ll always be here.”

when he’s done with his tangent, george just smiles kindly at him, a glint of amusement shining in his eyes. “can i say something now?”

dream lets out a breathless laugh. “yeah, sorry.”

except, george doesn’t say anything at all. instead, he just leans forward until their foreheads are pressed together, shutting his eyes and taking in the feeling of dream being so intimately close. it’s a feeling he never wants to forget. it’s a feeling he wants to continue to grow familiar with. 

now it’s george’s turn to laugh. “god, why did you have to pour your heart out at a time like this?” he says fondly.

“what?” dream asks, his voice giving away his cheeky smile. “what’s wrong?”

“i’m sick, which means that if i kiss you, then you’ll get sick, idiot.”

dream bumps their noses together. “you wanna kiss me?” he mumbles into the quiet air between them. 

“you have no idea,” george breathes, a hand coming up to cup the nape of dream’s neck. 

“do it,” dream says, his breath strained. “i don’t care if i get sick. kiss me.”

and so he does, and it’s everything.

george has kissed people before. he’s kissed friends, he’s kissed past partners when he was in university, getting the young adult experience. he’s kissed people before.

but this, kissing dream. 

it’s an entirely new thing. it’s captivating. it’s all-enrapturing. it’s life-changing. it wraps him up and swallows him whole. it makes his entire body feel electrified, like he’s frankenstein being brought to life by a mad scientist. it consumes him in every way possible, in the best way possible. he’s been pulled under dream’s current with no chance of ever escaping, and he doesn’t want to. he wants to drown in him and his love. he wants to climb inside of the man himself and make a home around his heart to ensure that it’s always protected. he wants to breathe in his soul and write songs to the rhythm of his heartbeat. he wants to be completely and utterly surrounded by dream and nothing else.

when they pull away for the first time, it feels like george has been rebirthed. the air is a bit fresher, and his head a bit clearer and easier to carry on his shoulders. they stay close with their proximity, panting into each other’s mouths as they fully process everything that just happened.

“wow,” george breathes, the first one to break the silence. dream huffs out a laugh. 

“wow is damn right,” he says, pulling george somehow closer to his body. “holy shit, we just kissed. we just kissed and im in love with you.”

george giggles, pulling him back in. this kiss isn’t as long as the first one, but it’s equally as sweet. “we just kissed and you’re in love with me,” he says, hardly pulled away and still in the blond’s space.

dream can’t help but connect them again, the shape of george’s lips addicting against his own. “i’m in love with you.”

they kiss again. “you’re in love with me.”

again. “i’m in love with you.”

again. “i’m in love with you, too.”

the way dream’s jaw drops is almost comedic. actually, it is comedic and george barks out a laugh, scrunching up his face with joy as dream stares at him dumbfoundedly.

“ george ,” he finally whines, his brain starting up its gears again. he hides his face in george’s neck. “you can’t just say things like that.”

“oh, so you can say it but i can’t? i see how it is.”

“no, no, you can!” dream backtracks. “you can. just— god , give me a warning next time!”

“alright, fine. here’s your warning, ready? i’m about to kiss you again, so prepare yourself.”

dream looks up at him eagerly, grinning like a kid in a candy store as george presses plush lips to his once more. they kiss and kiss and kiss until they’re both breathless, their mouths cherry red and swollen. the two boys are all smiles, unable to do anything else but bask in the presence they’ve waited so long for. 

“you’re gonna get sick,” george whispers, connecting them for a final time.

“take care of me,” dream mutters against his lips, too whipped to bring himself to put even an inch of distance between them. “my baby.”

the brunet giggles. “i will.”

and he does.