Archive of Our Own

After it’s all said and done, they pack up a U-Haul and move back to Florida. 

Sapnap stays in California and sends them off with tears in his eyes that he’ll always claim was just the smoggy air getting to him. Dream hugs him one last time, and then once more for good measure as George gets into the passenger seat. 

It’s not a forever goodbye, they’ll see each other at Thanksgiving and Christmas, birthdays too, probably. 

But they’re old and retired now, and Los Angeles has just never scratched the itch of home like Florida always had. They’d only been living in LA full time for the last handful of years, once splitting their time between the two coasts was too much for their aging bodies to adjust to. Sapnap had moved out after he got married, leaving Dream and George to themselves, but they'd always stayed close, their house never more than 10 minutes from Sapnap.  

Dream drives most of the way to Saint Augestine despite the ache in his back because George has bad knees now, and he says driving all the way across the country with his legs all bent and stepping on pedals would make them worse. Still, he takes over to drive them through Oklahoma and Arkansas. Dream is just happy he drives at all, knowing he still refuses to most days despite getting his license years ago.  

They buy a big house in Saint Augustine, probably more space than two old men need, but there’s a wrap-around front porch and the back deck overlooks the river. Initially, they’d talked about trying to find a place in Tampa or Daytona, maybe Ocala, just somewhere closer to Orlando, but any roots they’d once had now are long gone and George would rather be near the water anyway. 

George picks the bedroom on the main floor and Dream takes the one just up the stairs. Sylvee helps pick all their furniture and design the interior, and by the time they move in, it's perfect.  

It’s perfect. Dream can’t help but think it over and over, smoothing it out in his mind. 

“What now?” George asks on their first night in the house, the two of them sitting knee to knee on the couch. 

“What? What now?” Dream laughs, and for the first time in a very long time, he doesn’t know. 

“Don’t laugh,” George scowls, and Dream notices how deep the lines of his forehead are now. He still looks good, has always looked good, but it’s a different kind of good these days. 

“What else am I supposed to do? I don’t know what now,” He smiles, “Now, we do whatever the hell we want forever.”

“Fine,” George rolls his eyes and sits up straight, “Well, what do we do tonight?”

“Hm,” Dream scratches at his beard, feeling how coarse it is now that it’s going gray, “Order dinner?”

George grins at him and Dream can feel the warmth of it seep into his bones. 

“Gimme your phone,” He reaches his hands out, and Dream wants to run his thumb over every wrinkled knuckle and callus.

“You have your own, you know,” Dream points out as he gets his phone anyways, and it’s almost funny how little things change. 

“Yours is better,” George scoffs, and they both know there isn’t any difference. 

He watches George scrolls through different food apps, asking himself questions out loud and there is something in Dream’s chest that feels too big for his body.

Again, it hits him how perfect this is. 

Before they bought the house, Sapnap had asked Dream why they were buying another house together. Why, after almost 30 years, and that number gives Dream a headache, Dream still wanted to live with George. Why George still wanted to live with Dream. 

He hadn’t really known what to say. He thought if he told Sapnap that he lived 7 years without George and even after 30 it still didn’t feel like enough, that he thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life with George and it still won’t make up for that lost time, he would have sounded insane. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Dream blinks, and George is right there. 

“What? Have you ordered? Gimme-” He grabs his phone back and finds the postmates cart full of food. He adds his own items and orders it all. 

George puts on the TV while they wait, and they both settle into the couch. 

__________

The thing about retirement is that Dream isn’t really retired. He isn’t that old either, turning 55 in just shy of 6 months, but after years of non-stop content creation, he had to stop. It wasn’t possible anymore to keep going at the pace he had been for the last however many years. He’d lost count. It wasn’t feasible anymore. But, being who he is, he couldn’t just quit. He couldn't do nothing.

So, after a month in the new house, he decides he needs something to do and sets up a PC in a spare room. He’ll be an editor in his spare time, he decides. It’s been a long time since he’s done any editing but he finds he falls back into it quickly, and it’s not very long at all until he’s in a rhythm, mind focused and fingers running on muscle memory. 

“What are you doing?” A rough voice breaks through his focus on his first job. 

“Working on a video,” He answers without looking, shaving a few seconds off a clip. 

George hums as he steps into the office, taking the spare chair beside him. “How is it?” He peers over at the computer screen. 

He smells like coconut and sunscreen. It’s only February, but Dream is glad that George has finally learned to always wear sunscreen, even in the winter. He never did when he first moved to America, no matter how many times Dream told him to. 

“Good. It’s easier than I remembered. I don’t think it’ll take too much longer. We can go out for lunch if you want.”

“The place by the beach?”

“They’re all places by the beach,” Dream rolls his eyes. 

“Shut up, idiot, you know the one I’m talking about. The one with the porch and blue shutters.”

“Give me like 30 minutes to finish up. You wanna walk or drive?”

“Walk. It’s nice out today.”

“Were you outside earlier?”

“Mhm. You could have joined me,” George’s elbow bumps against his bicep. 

“Couldn’t have,” Dream takes a slow breath, “I need to get this done. It’s a rush job, they need it by tonight.”

George makes a disappointed noise but doesn’t say anything more. It goes quiet between them but he doesn’t leave, just sits by Dream’s side as he continues to edit. 

It’s such an overwhelming feeling sometimes, to have George still by his side. To know that after more years than most people will ever get, he still has George. It’s an incredible thing. 

He wraps up the video and soon they’re out the door. 

“Do you remember how to get there?” Dream asks as they start down the street, the palm trees shading the sidewalk. It’s February so it’s not too hot, just pleasant enough to be able to walk a few miles without getting heat stroke. 

“Probably,” George grins. 

He does, and they get to the restaurant easily. 

Their table is outside, overlooking the water and Dream is having a hard time looking away from George. 

“Your hair is so gray,” He says without really meaning to. 

George’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, “You’re only just noticing?”

“I mean, no. Kind of, I dunno. It’s just weird. Like I knew objectively, but I feel like this is the first time I’ve just really noticed, I guess.”

“Should I dye it back to brown?”

“What? No,” Dream frowns, “Why would you do that?”

“I was just joking, calm down,” George laughs, “Why are you looking at my gray hair anyway?”

“It’s just- I’m just happy. I’m really happy, George,” He says in a moment of pure sincerity. 

“Stop,” George laughs a little wetly, “God, this is so dumb. Stop getting emotional.”

“Aw, George,” Dream pretends to pout, “You love when I’m emotional.”

“I don’t. It’s actually your worst trait. I hate you.”

“Mm,” Dream hums, “You hate me so much you’ve lived with me for a million years and never want to leave.”

Something flickers over George’s face,  his mouth twisting. He has faint smile lines now, and it makes Dream’s heart feel warm that he’s had so much to smile about. 

“What?” He asks, knowing George won’t offer his thoughts up on his own. 

“Do you ever think it’s weird?”

Dream frowns, “Think what is weird?”

“Like- this. Us, I guess. That we’re all old and still live together. After, like, so long.”

“Do you think it’s weird?”

George sighs and worries his hands together, “No. I think- I think other people probably find it weird. But I don’t. I like living with you.”

“Then that’s the answer, right? I like living with you too.”

George smiles at him softly, and before he can say anything else their food is arriving. 

Once everything has been set in front of them and George is halfway through his fries, he speaks again. 

“Do you ever think about meeting someone?”

Dream pauses, “Like, what do you mean?”

They’ve only really ever talked about it once, a long time ago. George had asked if Dream ever wanted to get married, have kids and move into his own house with his own family. Maybe, he’d told George, not right now, at least. 

He feels mostly the same. He tells George this just as he had back then. 

“You’ve always wanted it, though,” George twists his mouth, “A family, you know? Kids.”

“George,” Dream resists the urge to reach out for him, “I’m happy. If I had wanted a fucking- a family I would have had one. I like living with you. I like it just being us.”

“You could still, if you wanted.”

“I don’t, George.”

George looks at him for a long moment before going back to picking at his fries. 

“Okay.”

“What about you? You don’t think about meeting anyone? Having your own family?”

“No,” George almost snorts, “I dunno, I think I spent a really long time thinking- thinking people like me don’t really get to have families like that.”

“George-”  

“Shut up, I know it’s stupid. Like, obviously gay people get married and have families and stuff, but when I was, like, younger, it just felt like it was impossible. So I just never really considered it in the first place.”

“But surely you thought about meeting someone.”

George goes quiet again and pulls a fry in half, “I guess.”

There’s a distance between them suddenly. 

“Sorry, I didn’t-”

“It’s fine,” George shakes his head, “Sorry I ruined the mood, or whatever. I didn’t mean to get sad.”

“Are you sad?”

“What? No, not like- I didn’t mean to make us talk about sad things. I’m- I’m happy. I’m really happy with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Obviously,” George rolls his eyes, a small smile pulling at his lips, “Shut up and eat your dumb sandwich before it gets cold.”

__________

In the spring, George decides he wants to start a garden. 

“Do you even know how to garden?” Dream asks him, watching him from the patio. Their backyard is good enough for it, one half taken up by a pool and the other half a sprawling green space of nothing but grass and weeds. Three big planter boxes full of dirt and fertilizer sit in the middle. 

“I mean, kind of. My mum had a garden when I was growing up. Me and my sister would help her plant stuff,” He groans, getting on both knees to tuck the starter plant into the dirt of the planter box. 

“Tell me again what you’re planting,” He asks, sitting forward in his chair. It’s warm today, just on the edge of summer. 

“Ugh,” George complains, “How do you keep forgetting? You’re becoming senile.”

“I’m not senile, you’re literally older than me anyway. You’re ancient, George.”

“I actually hate you,” George picks up the next plant, “I’m planting cucumbers and broccoli here, and the other one will have carrots and onions. We have to go to Home Depot tomorrow to get pots for the pineapples.”

“Why can’t you put the pineapples in the other planter?”

“You’re supposed to put them in individual pots, I think. I googled it.”

“Hm,” Dream crosses his arms as George starts to tuck the cucumber plant around the trellis. 

“When I’m done planting we should swim,” George wipes his hands together, shaking off the dirt as he reaches for the next plant.  

“Mm, you think it’s hot enough?”

“The pools already heated, why not? We haven’t used it yet.”

“Sure,” Dream nods, and then he sits back to watch. 

There’s something about George that's dizzying, that’s still dizzying. It hits him in waves sometimes, how lucky he is. He watches George shuffle on his knees to keep planting and he knows that he’ll spend the rest of the day listening to him complain about how they ache. There’s a restlessness that’s always been inside him, and looking at George soothes the way it thrashes in his chest. 

He wonders if he would feel this same way about someone else, if he’d lived with Sapnap instead of George, and he can’t imagine it. He can’t imagine ever feeling like this about someone else. He doesn’t think he’d want to. 

While George finishes planting, Dream pulls out the floats and tosses them into the pool, grabs them some towels and drinks. 

“This pool is better than the one we had in Orlando,” George hums sleepily, sprawled out on a big float. Dream knows it’s only a matter of time before he falls asleep, always prone to a nap in the sun. 

“How?” Dream kicks his foot gently in the water.

“Dunno, I just like it more. We barely used the other pool."

“We were barely home to use the pool,” Dream closes his eyes, tilts his head up towards the sun. 

“Mm,” George sighs, “I liked that house, though.”

“It was the first house we lived in together,” Dream opens his eyes and finds George’s float has drifted closer to his own. George has always looked good in the sun, especially the Florida sun but maybe Dream is biased. He just- he shines under it. Tan skin and dark hair, warm like the sun revolves around him. 

“It was my favorite,” George grins at the sky, his eyes closed. 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s so dumb, but I just think it was my favorite because it was the first. I met you for the first time in that driveway.”

“You called me a God,” Dream grins at the memory, how grand he’d felt in that moment. 

“Of course you still remember that,” George opens his eyes, and then his head is turning and he’s looking back at Dream. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Dream meets his eyes, “It was the best day of my life.” It feels too honest for the lighthearted moment but sometimes he can’t help himself. 

“Is it still?” George asks sincerely. 

“Of course,” Dream wants to reach out and press his fingers to the crinkles by George’s eyes, “Of course it is. It’s always been. Even before it happened I knew it would be the best.”

“That’s so-” George’s voice goes tight, and he turns back to looking at the sky, “It’s the best for me too. Still. I think-” He shakes his head. 

“Tell me,” Dream kicks his feet in the water until his float moves next to George’s. Without thinking, he reaches out to grab George’s hand. 

“Sometimes I think my life didn’t actually start until I was here. Which is dumb, because I had, like, 26 whole years of my life before then.”

“I don’t think it’s dumb,” Dream slides his fingers between George’s, presses their warm palms together, “The day you got to Florida was the first day of my life. I was born right there in the doorway.”

“So stupid,” George laughs, squeezing Dream’s hand. 

“You love me,” It slips off his tongue, and he’s reminded of being young and begging George to say it, for validation that George loved him back. 

It makes him feel old, remembering those times. He wonders if George remembers them as fondly as he does. 

“It would be stupid to have followed you all around if I didn’t,” George’s eyes are still focused on the sky but his fingers twitch against Dream’s. 

“Do you remember how I used to press you to say it?” 

“Yes,” George huffs, “It was so dumb.”

“Why didn’t you? Can I- I mean, if you want to tell me. We’ve never really talked about it.”

George makes a small noise that Dream knows means he’s carefully picking his words. He focuses on the way their hands feel together while he waits, and thinks they should hold hands more often. They fit perfectly together, George’s small hand tangled with Dream’s, and for just a second he finds himself mourning something he’s never had. 

“I think it just felt really vulnerable. It was- I found it hard to be really sincere and telling you- saying that to you just felt very exposing,” George says after a minute. 

“Exposing?” He can’t help but pry a little further. 

George takes a slow breath, “Yeah. Just- it felt like they’d see too much of me. Like- like you’d see too much of me. I don’t know, I don’t know if it makes sense anymore.”

“But you did love me?”

“I mean-” There’s still a hesitation in his voice, “Obviously. But love is like- ugh. Dream.”

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore,” Dream rubs his thumb above George’s knuckle, “We can just float.”

__________

Sapnap visits for the first time in August for Dream’s birthday. 

“You actually kept a room for me,” Sapnap laughs when they take him through the house, stopping at the spare bedroom across from Dream’s. 

It’s set up just for him, special from the rest of the guest rooms. 

“Of course,” Dream shrugs, and tries not to feel emotional about it. 

Of course they kept a room for him. Any home they’d ever live in would have a place for Sapnap. 

“How long are you staying?” George asks, pushing Sapnap’s shoulders until he stumbles into the room to look around. 

“Few days, I think. The twins-”

“Ugh,” George groans, “Always with the twins.” He plops down on Sapnap’s bed, and for a moment, Dream feels exactly like he did 30 years ago. 

“Shut the fuck up, you love those kids. Uncle George,” Sapnap mocks in a baby voice, pouting his lip. 

“I don’t,” George lies, “They’re loud and disgusting. Your son literally pooped himself when I was holding him once.”

“That was when he was 3, George,” Sapnap punches his shoulder lightly. 

“Dream!” George turns to him, immediately cradling his shoulder, “Did you see that? He just hit me.”

Dream grins, “You deserved it.”

“What?”

“Don’t insult my godson, George,” He shrugs, and George rolls his eyes. 

“Anyways,” Sapnap rolls his eyes, “The twins go back to college Monday and I wanna be home to send ‘em off.”

It makes Dream dizzy to think about, and suddenly tears are filling his eyes. He sniffles, bottom lip starting to shake. 

“Dream?” He frowns. 

“Your kids are grown up,” He laughs wetly, “You have kids. You’re married.”

He can feel the way George and Sapnap are looking at him as he starts to cry. 

“Yeah?” Sapnap cocks his head, “I’ve had kids for a long time, man. I’ve been married for longer. You were there, you know,” He says slowly, like Dream has lost his mind. 

“Fuck, I know,” He sniffles again, “It’s just- it’s so insane. We’re- look at our lives. We’re so lucky. I’m so lucky,” He can’t stop the tears dripping down his cheeks. 

“Dream,” George stands from the bed, his brows knitted in worry.

“Sorry,” He wipes his eyes, “Sorry. This is so dumb. I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

“Are you okay?” George asks, reaching out and touching Dream’s arm, fingers curling around his bicep gently. 

“Yeah,” He relaxes into George’s touch, “I’m just really happy Sapnap’s here.”

“Dude,” Sapnap grins, stepping beside him to pat his back, “I’m happy I’m here, too. But stop crying on your birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday until tomorrow, I can cry today if I want,” He wipes the last of the tears from his eyes. 

“No more crying,” George shakes his head, and then he’s bringing his hands to Dream’s face and wiping a tear from his cheek with a gentle thumb. 

His heart stutters, lodging itself in his throat and he can feel the way Sapnap is looking at them. 

“Okay,” He breathes out as George’s hand leaves his face. 

“Should we- uh, dinner?” Sapnap asks, and Dream blinks hard as he looks away from George’s face.  

“Yeah,” He croaks, “Dinner sounds good. We can take him to the grill, George.”

After dinner, Dream and Sapnap sit in the backyard.

George turns in early when they get home from dinner, leaving Dream and Sapnap to sit out back by themselves. 

“He still gets tired like that?” Sapnap asks, picking at the pilling paper of his beer. 

“Yeah,” Dream sighs, “It’s gotten worse as he’s getting older but it’s not too bad.”

“Mm,” Sapnap sips from the glass bottle. It’s quiet for a minute, and very distantly Dream thinks he can hear the sound of crashing waves over the cicadas. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Dream looks over at Sapnap, nodding, “Sure.”

He watches Sapnap take a deep breath, “You and George-”

“Nick-”

“Dude, just-”

“I don’t-”

“Dream,” Sapnap’s voice is firm, “Let me fucking get my question out.”

“Okay,” He resigns, and he’s suddenly glad George is asleep.

“You and George,” Sapnap starts again, “There’s- I mean, you’re not together, are you?”

“No,” Dream furrows his brow, “We’re- man, come on. You’d know if we were. It’s not like that,” He says quietly. Something in his chest pangs. 

“It’s not like that, but you’re 55 and still living together. George is almost 60. That’s not- you know most people don’t do that, right?”

“He is not almost 60,” Dream murmurs, “I don’t know. I know it’s not typical or whatever, but it works for us. We- we like being together. Living together. Whatever. He’s my best friend.”

“And you don’t wish he was more than that?”

Dream closes his eyes for a minute, focuses on the way his heart thumps in his chest and the dull ache in the joints of his fingers. 

“I think it’s too late for that. Even if I did.”

“But you do want it, then.”

“It’s not as easy as if I want it or not.”

“How?” Sapnap sounds exasperated. 

Dream keeps his focus forward, watching the way the lights of the house catch on the still pool water. 

He says quietly, “If he wanted anything- if anything else were going to happen, don’t you think it would have by now?”

“You can’t be serious,” Sapnap scrubs one hand over his face. 

“I just- I think I’m too late. I missed my chance. I missed it a long time ago.”

Sapnap doesn’t say anything, but he reaches over and puts his hand on Dream’s shoulder. They sit quietly sipping their beers until the humidity becomes unbearable. 

“For what it’s worth,” Sapnap stops him as he opens the door back into the house, “I don’t think he’s stopped waiting.”

They don’t do much for his birthday. It’s at his own request, more than happy to just spend the day with his two favorite people doing anything they want. 

“You don’t even want to go out tonight?” Sapnap asks, head rolling lazily to look over at Dream. 

They’re laying on some chairs by the pool, chatting idly while George floats on his favorite inflatable tube. 

“I’m too old to go out, man. Getting drunk sounds more like a chore than fun,” He sighs and looks towards the pool to watch George’s feet kick gently in the water. He’s tan from being outside so much this summer, busy with his garden and using the pool. Dream wants to press his hands to his warm skin and hold him close. 

“Going out doesn’t always mean getting drunk, dude. We could at least go out for dinner or something. A movie, maybe.”

“Eh,” He shrugs, “I’m good ordering in and watching something here. Happy Birthday to me.”

“C’mon, man, we should go get drinks or something. You can handle a few beers.”

“Are you going to keep asking until I say yes?”

Sapnap grins, “Yes.”

Dream sighs and looks back towards George, “You have to convince him, too.”

“Obviously,” Sapnap rolls his eyes. 

It barely takes any convincing, and soon enough the three of them are in an upscale gay bar in Jacksonville, the music a little too loud and people a little too friendly. There’s a small dance floor in the middle and they slip into a small booth in the corner. 

Sapnap sticks to bourbon and Dream nurses a beer, George still favoring cocktails over anything. 

“Should we dance or something?” George looks at him from over the rim of his glass. 

Dream grimaces, “You can go dance and I can watch you.”

There’s a glint in George’s eye, pink lips tugging into a smirk, “You want to watch me?”

“Okay-” Dream sputters as Sapnap chokes on a laugh, “Not like that.”

“C’mon-” Sapnap nudges him, “You love to watch.”

“You guys are so fucking stupid,” Dream takes a long sip of his drink. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, Dream,” George grins, a little tipsy, “It’s your birthday.”

“It is my birthday,” Dream agrees, “Can I just- okay, I’m not gonna get emotional again, but I just want to say something.”

Sapnap rolls his eyes fondly, “Fine, go ahead old man. Cry about my wife and kids again.”

“I’m not gonna- ugh. Just- I’m happy you both are here. Thank you for being here.”

“Love you, brother,” Sapnap pats his shoulder, clinking their drinks together. 

“Happy birthday,” George tells him earnestly. 

“Are you gonna go dance?” Sapnap turns to George.

“Hm,” George pretends to think, and then the music changes and a pop song George has been obsessed with starts to play and his eyes light up. 

“Go,” Dream laughs, “Go dance. I’ll watch.”

“Always watching, never doing,” George teases as he stands up. 

“Are you going?” Dream asks Sapnap, who shrugs. 

“I’ll let him have his fun,” Sapnap sips his drink. 

His eyes track George as he worms his way onto the dancefloor. He’s probably the oldest person up there, but not by much. George still moves easily, hips twisting and arms moving along to the beat. He’s always been a good dancer when he tries, and Dream loves watching the way his body moves. 

“How the hell does he still move like that?” Dream laughs when the song changes to something slower and George’s moves become less energetic and more sultry. 

“I have no fucking idea,” Sapnap clicks his tongue, “You don’t wanna go dance with him?”

“No, he’s- he’s having fun. My back started bothering me again, I couldn’t keep up with him.”

“You don’t wanna meet anyone then? Go mingle?”

Dream sighs, sinking back against the booth, “Why are you obsessed with my love life lately? Don’t you want to go mingle?”

“I don’t, actually,” Sapnap holds up his left hand to obnoxiously show off his wedding band, “I know you don’t want anything serious, but maybe it would be good for you. When was the last time you got laid, dude? Does your dick even work anymore?”

“My dick works fine, thanks for asking,” Dream glares at him. 

“You’re really happy just like this? Just- the two of you? Friends and nothing more?”

Dream frowns, “I don’t think we’re nothing more. We’re not together but, I dunno. We’re different from just friends who live together. But I am happy. I love sharing my life with him. God, when did you get so wise and caring?”

“I’ve always been wise and caring,” Sapnap laughs, “I dunno, man. I’ve been watching you and George be you and George for like, my entire life. You’re my family, I just want y’all to be happy.”

“We are happy,” Dream tells him, watching George across the room. There’s a guy moving closer to him and Dream’s stomach twists as he leans forward and says something to George. 

The guy must be younger by a few years but he’s attractive, Dream can tell even from the booth. George laughs, his hand falling to the guy’s shoulder. They’re flirting, Dream realizes. 

“You remember at my wedding when one of my cousins tried flirting with George?” Sapnap grabs his attention. 

“What? Yeah. Why?”

“No reason,” Sapnap shrugs, “I was just thinking about how she asked him to dance and you literally tripped over a chair and spilled your drink on her.”

“Okay,” Dream’s cheeks feel warm, and he’s glad the dark lights of the bar hide his flush, “That was an accident, it didn’t mean anything.”

“Mhm,” Sapnap hums but he lets it go, leaning back to cross his arms. 

Dream is still looking at George and the other man, their flirty touches and big smiles. He leans in again, saying something into George’s ear and touching his hip. His stomach hurts as he watches George pull back with another laugh, but then he’s smiling in a way that Dream knows means he’s not interested. 

He says something to the man, and then looks over at Dream. 

“I’ll be right back,” He says to Sapnap as he’s already getting up and heading towards George. 

He slides up next to George as soon as he reaches him, one arm slipping around his waist. 

“Hey!” George looks up at him with a smile, leaning into his hold. 

“Hey, you okay?”

“Mhm,” George blinks at him with pretty eyes, “This is David.”

Dream looks at the man still in front of them. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” The guy smiles, “So, you have another half?” He says to George. 

“I do,” George confirms. 

“Two is fine by me,” David licks his lips and Dream’s heart speeds up. 

George laughs sharply, “Is it?”

“Your boyfriend here is big,” David quirks an eyebrow and Dream is sure he’s sweating now. In all his years of going to gay bars with George, they’ve never been propositioned for a threesome. 

“He’s also mine,” George says, a clear fuck off. 

David makes a disgruntled noise, looking them both over again, “Fine. Have a good night.”

Dream turns to George with wide eyes, “Was he trying to sleep with us?”

“Yes,” George grins, putting a hand on Dream’s chest. 

“What the hell,” He laughs, “Why did you call me over here? Did- did you want to?”

“I didn’t call you over here, you just came,” George tilts his head. 

“Well, you- you looked over at me. When you were talking to him. And you did the thing with your eyebrows when you need me to come.” 

George’s face turns unreadable for a second before it melts into a small smile, “I just needed you to pretend to be my boyfriend so he’d leave me alone.”

“You didn’t want to go home with him? He looked like your type.”

“Dream,” George frowns, “It’s your birthday. I want to be with you, I don’t want to go home with someone. I’m too old for hookups, anyway,” He teases. 

“Oh,” He breathes, “Oh, okay.”

The song changes and George grins at him, “C’mon, dance with me. You’re already here.”

“Okay, George,” He gives in easily, hands sliding down to George’s hips. 

“Happy birthday, Dream,” George wraps his arms around his shoulders. 

__________

Fall rolls around and George starts to harvest the summer crops from his garden, getting ready to plant for the next season. 

“I have a surprise,” He tells Dream , suddenly appearing in front of him. 

Dream looks up from his book, “What?”

“You have to get up,” He kicks the bottom of the sofa by Dream’s legs. 

“Do I have to?” He groans, folding the page to mark his place. 

“Yes,” George tells him and then pauses, “Wait, why? Is your back getting bad again?”

“It’s fine,” He shakes his head, “Just been stiff the last few days, it’ll be fine.”

George’s brows knit together like he’s thinking, and then his face relaxes again. “Okay. You still have to get up, grandpa,” He holds a hand out to help pull Dream off the couch. 

“Don’t fucking call me that, I hate that,” He pokes George’s side once he’s up, “Lead the way.”

He follows George out of the backdoor and around to the side yard where they’d stored George’s extra planter boxes from the spring. 

In the first one is a tomato plant. Big bright green leaves spiraling up the trellis and sitting hidden behind them are bunches of tomatoes. 

“Why did you- George, did you grow these?” He looks closer at the plant. They’re beautiful, honestly the most beautiful tomatos Dream has ever seen. They’re giant, probably heirloom if he had to guess, their flesh multicolored and shining. 

“Obviously,” George laughs, bending over to look with him. 

“You don’t even like tomatoes,” Dream tells him like somehow over the 57 years of his life he hadn’t known this. 

“Well,” George coughs, “You like them.”

His heart catches in his throat. 

“You grew them for me?” He reaches out to touch the closest one, heavy and bursting and a beautiful yellowy-orangey-red. 

George shrugs from beside him, “You didn’t like the okra I planted over the summer.”

“We should make something with whatever is ready to be picked tonight,” Dream decides, swallowing the emotion welling in his chest. 

“Okay. I think the cauliflower and some potatoes should be ready, I’ll check everything else, too.”

Dream stands back up, turning to George just to look at him. George looks back and it’s like seeing his entire life in front of him. 

“Thank you,” He says quietly, reaching out to touch the side of George’s face before he can even think about it. 

He watches George take a shaky breath, his cheek pressing into Dream’s palm. “You’re welcome, idiot. Go find a recipe.”

George steps back, looking at Dream with something unreadable in his eyes before he disappears into the backyard. 

He closes his eyes and feels the humid air against his skin, the warm sun and the way George’s skin felt against his hand. He loves him so much it’s hard to breathe sometimes. 

He opens his eyes and goes back towards the yard. 

George ends up harvesting a bunch of different vegetables, potatoes and tomatoes, a zucchini and some cauliflower. He picks a few onions and carrots as well, filling a weaved basket he bought months ago he bought just for his garden. 

“What are you even going to make with all of this?” George asks, setting the basket down on the kitchen counter. 

“I have no idea. Have we ever made a meal just from your garden?”

“Uhm, I don’t think so,” George takes the vegetables out of the basket and sets them on the counter to be washed, “I think we’ve only done, like, sides and snacks and stuff.”

“Hm,” Dream hums, “We could do roasted vegetables. Or soup, maybe.”

“Do we still have those lentils?”

“Check the pantry,” Dream brings the vegetables to the sink to start washing them, drying them off with a towel as he goes. 

He can’t help but feel so prideful of George as he washes the vegetables, amazed by how beautiful and well-grown they all are. 

“We do!” George calls from the pantry, coming back into the kitchen with a bag of them. 

They set into making the soup, Dream chopping vegetables while George cooks down the onions and carrots, adding the vegetable broth. 

Dream hands him the diced tomatoes when he’s done with them and then starts on the potatoes and zucchini while George adds the lentils. 

“Does this look okay?” George asks when he finishes chopping. 

He puts down the knife and steps behind George, peering down at the pot. 

“Mhm, it just needs to simmer now until the lentils are done, then we add everything else.”

George hums and gives the pot a stir, and Dream finds himself unable to move away. George relaxes, his back pressing to Dream’s chest and there’s something that feels too close to right when they’re this close. He can’t help himself from letting one hand rest on George’s waist, the other reaching forward to rest on the counter, caging George in. 

“What are you doing?” George whispers, hand stilling on the spoon. 

“Just- I dunno. It’s nice cooking together. We don’t do it a lot anymore.”

“We’ve never done it a lot,” George swallows. 

“We did,” Dream argues lightly, “Remember the second house in LA? Before Nick moved out? We cooked there like, once a week.”

“Yeah, for like, a month. That hardly counts as a lot.”

“Whatever. We just haven’t done it in a long time. It’s nice.”

George hums and leans his weight further back against Dream.

__________

His back gets worse. 

He can barely move some days without pain shooting up his spine, aching and throbbing. He’s had back problems for a few years now, but something has felt especially out of place in the last few weeks. 

“You need to see the doctor,” George tells him after a particularly bad day, “You can’t even move right now.”

“It’s fine, it’ll get better in a few days, it always-”

“Dream, you’ve been sitting at the table for like an hour now. You literally can’t get out of the chair!”

“I don’t want to go to the doctor, George.”

George groans, putting his hands over his face in frustration. 

“Dream, please,” He puts his hands down, his face as serious as it ever gets, “You might need to go to the emergency room, you can’t move!”

“I do not-” He tries to turn towards George and cuts himself off with a sharp inhale, pain shooting up his back. 

“Fuck, Dream,” George rushes to his side, putting gentle hands on his shoulders, “I’m fucking serious, if you aren’t going to make an appointment than we’re going to the ER.”

Dream grits his teeth but he’s in too much pain to argue, his nostrils flaring as he tries to take deep breaths and lessen the pain. 

“Dream.”

“Okay, fine,” He snaps, taking a sharp breath. He sets his jaw, “You have to help me up, I can’t- it hurts in my leg too, I can’t stand.”

“Oh my God,” George curses to himself, and then he’s scooping Dream’s underarms and helping to pull him up. 

He wants to scream, the pain burning and radiating up his back and down from his spine to his thigh all the way to his calf. He stumbles once he’s on his feet, nearly paralyzed with how the pain shoots through him. 

“It’s okay,” George catches him, “I’ve got you. Come on, let’s get to the car, I’ll drive. You’re okay.”

Tears fill his eyes, the pain making it difficult to speak but he leans on George as he hobbles to the car. 

The car ride is mostly silent, Dream’s pained breaths and George’s quiet worry. 

He barely makes it through the ER doors before he’s nearly falling over, gripping the check-in desk with tight fingers as George hovers beside him, a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

He gives his information and insurance to the man at the desk and George helps him to an empty chair while they wait to be called. 

“George,” His voice cracks, stiff as a rail in his chair and trying not to move an inch. 

“Hm?” George is sitting up and crowding into his face instantly. 

“Just-” He can’t find the words, so he reaches out and takes George’s hand in his. He tangles their fingers together and squeezes once. 

“You’re gonna be fine,” George squeezes back. 

“I know,” He croaks, “Thank you for being here.”

“Shut up,” George starts to rub his thumb in smooth circles above Dream’s knuckles. “Of course I’m here.”

“Remember when I had to take you to the hospital just after you moved?”

George laughs softly, a fond smile tugging at his lips, “That sucked so much, I had spots all over my arms and my back for days.”

“Yeah, and you made me check every day if the ones on your ass were gone.”

“You liked it,” George grins. 

Dream doesn’t deny it, humming, “That nurse thought we were dating,” He remembers out loud. 

“Everyone thinks we’re dating.”

“Well,” Dream squeezes his hand when pain shoots down his leg, “That was the first time someone thought it after you moved.”

“Of course you remember that,” George exaggerates an eye roll. 

“It was funny.”

“You’re just obsessed with people thinking we’re together. You always have been.”

“I have not-”

He’s interrupted by a nurse calling out his name. George lets go of his hand to help Dream from his chair. 

The nurse eyes them as they follow her back to an exam room. 

They end up taking him for an emergency MRI, deducing that he has two herniated discs. The doctor gives him a muscle relaxer shot and a prescription for a painkiller. The doctor hands George the name and information of an orthopedic to call and schedule a visit for as soon as possible to go over his MRI further and decide a treatment plan. 

“You’re lucky to have a partner as eager to help,” The doctor smiles at him, and behind him George sputters a cough. No matter how many times they’re mistaken as partners, George never gets less flustered. 

“He’s a miracle,” Dream plays into it as he always does, “I have no idea how I’d make it without him.”

“Very lucky,” The doctor repeats and smiles again, finishing her typing and wishing them a goodnight.

“You liked that,” George pokes him very gently as they head to check out. The muscle relaxer is already helping and he can mostly walk on his own, but he lets George cling to his arm to help him steady anyway. 

“I was just being truthful,” Dream smiles. 

“Whatever,” George clicks his tongue. 

They check out and George helps him into the car again. 

He nearly falls asleep on the way home, exhausted from pain and finally getting a moment of relief. George puts on Dream’s favorite playlist as he drives.

“I am lucky to have you, you know,” Dream says quietly into the gentle air between them. 

“Dream-”

“I am,” Dream interrupts before George can deflect, “I’m really lucky. Not- not everyone has someone who’d do this for them. And I’m glad I do. And I’m really glad it’s you.”

“I want to take care of you,” George tells him, and Dream can feel how much he means it. 

“You do. You always have,” Dream frowns. 

“You always have. You’ve always taken care of me, always. It’s- sometimes I just want to do it too.”

“You do,” Dream wants to shake him until he understands. He’s always taking care of Dream. He takes care of him by just existing, by just being by his side. 

George doesn’t say anything else, just keeps on driving. 

He sees an orthopedic three days later who recommends physical therapy twice a week as well as a regimen to do every night at home. He’ll try it for a few months and see how it helps. If it doesn’t he might have to look at surgery, but it’s too early to tell. 

George goes with him to every appointment. 

__________

He’s reading in bed one night when there’s a knock on his bedroom door. 

“Come in,” He pushes his reading glasses up as George steps inside. 

“Hi,” He’s in pajamas, soft flannel pants and a faded t-shirt that Dream thinks belonged to him once. 

“Hi,” Dream blinks. 

“What’re you doing?” George lingers by the door and Dream furrows his brow. George never comes to Dream’s room. He doesn’t like climbing the stairs so often and says the room is always too cold. 

“Reading. Are you okay?”

“Fine. I missed you.”

Dream’s heart twists, “We just had dinner like an hour ago.”

George shrugs, twists his mouth. “Can I stay in here while you read?”

“Yeah, of course. Do you want a chair, or-”

“No, the bed is fine,” George is already making his way over, worming his way under the covers. 

“Okay,” Dream puts his glasses back on and goes back to reading while George sits quietly. He knows in just a minute George will decide he doesn’t like the quiet and start asking questions. He can feel George shift to peer over at the book, his cheek almost pressed to Dream’s shoulder. 

“What are you reading?” 

Dream smiles “The lord of the rings. Have you ever read it?”

“No. Is it good?”

“I think you’d like it. Do you want me to read it to you?”

“Yes,” George shifts back to rest his head on Dream’s shoulder. 

He finds his place again on the page, “‘I am glad that you are here with me,’ said Frodo, ‘Here at the end of all things.’ ‘Yes, I am with you, Master,’ said Sam, laying Frodo’s wounded hand gently to his breast. ‘And you’re with me. And the journey’s finished. But after coming all that way I don’t want to give up yet. It’s not like me, somehow, if you understand.’” 

“Are they in love, do you think?” George pokes his nose against Dream’s collarbone. 

It makes Dream laugh, “They kind of are, I think. They kind of remind me of us.”

“Because we’re in love?” George teases, and Dream’s cheeks go warm. 

“Well,” He nudges George, “I’m just glad you’re here with me too, at the end of all things.”

George buries his head closer to Dreams chest like he’s searching for his heart, “Keep reading.”

He reads a few more paragraphs before he can tell George is starting to fall asleep. 

Quietly, he marks his page and sets the book on the nightstand with his glasses and turns off the lamp. 

It hurts his back a little as he shimmies to lay flat, letting George fall slowly with him, his head still resting on his chest. 

His heartbeat is loud in his ears and he wonders if George can hear it too, how fast it's beating just for him. 

He feels a little silly, his skin buzzing from how close George is. They’ve shared beds before, have woken up accidentally tangled in each other more times than Dream can count, but this is-

He takes a slow breath. This feels different. This feels like George was always meant to be here, his hip bone pressing into the top of Dream’s thigh, their hearts beating in sync. He wonders if he’s too old now to feel like they were always meant to end up like this. 

He closes his eyes when George starts to murmur, twisting the arm George was laying on until he can snake it around his back and hold him properly. 

__________

“Get up.”

A bony hand pokes his shoulder, and he finally opens his eyes, groaning at the light. 

“Fuck off,” He grumbles. 

“You have your last physical therapy appointment today, you have to get up, idiot.”

“Don’t wanna. My back is fine,” He closes his eyes again. 

“Dream,” George smacks his arm. 

“Ugh,” He blinks and looks at George, standing over the bed with a hand on his hip. 

“Get up, we have to leave in an hour,” He turns and leaves the bedroom, the door thudding shut behind him. 

He’s in George’s bed this morning. He’s not exactly sure when the transition happened, but at some point they slipped into a habit of sleeping in each other’s beds, and then it became just George’s. 

It makes sense, if Dream tries to rationalize it to himself. His back pain hurts his leg too bad to climb the stairs sometimes, and George’s knees get achy so he doesn't always want to go to Dream’s room when he wants to listen to Dream read to him or watch a movie in bed. 

Some of his clothes have found their way into George’s drawers too, a side effect of also starting to share a bathroom and not wanting to lug up the stairs to put away laundry that would only end up down here anyway. 

He rolls out of bed and presses a hand to his lower back just to see how it feels when he rises. It’s not bad. 

The physical therapy has been working and George has been good about reminding him to do the stretches every night before they go to sleep. 

He strips his shirt to change just as the door creaks open and George sticks his head in the room. 

“Oh,” George blinks at him, and Dream knows he’s staring at his chest. 

“What?”

“Sorry, I was just gonna ask if you wanted breakfast,” George looks away, his cheeks a little pink. 

“I was gonna shower and see if you wanted to grab something on the way,” Dream tells him. 

“I wanted to shower,” George frowns. 

“I thought you were gonna make breakfast.”

“I didn’t say I was making anything, I asked if you wanted anything.”

“What the hell?” Dream laughs, “What if I had said yes?”

“I dunno,” Geoge grins, “Can I shower first? You always take a million years, I won’t have time if you go.”

“Just take it with me,” He means to say it as a joke but it doesn’t come out as one and he feels it instantly. 

George blinks at him, his smile going a little hollow, “What?”

“Sorry,” Dream swallows, “I don’t- I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Dream-”

“That’s stupid, I’m sorry, you don’t- you can go first,” He wants to kick himself, embarrassment burning cheeks. 

“Would it be weird?” George asks him, still half behind the door. 

“Would- what? Would what be weird?”

“If we showered together,” George’s accent slips and comes out thick for a moment. 

“I don’t-” Dream sucks in a deep breath, “I don’t know. Maybe not. We do a lot together already. We’ve- I mean, we’ve basically seen each other naked before.”

“Yeah,” George agrees, “It just- we’re running short on time anyway, right? We might not have time to both shower and eat.”

“Right,” Dream’s throat clicks, “So, you want to?”

George’s eyes are big and dark, his mouth wet as he looks at Dream. “Sure.”

“Okay,” Dream breathes sharply, his blood rushing in his ears. He doesn’t move. 

“Dream,” George fully steps inside the room, shutting it behind him, “Go start the shower.”

He nods, and like a machine moves to the bathroom to start the water. It’s like time suspends itself for a moment as the shower starts, and then George is in the bathroom with him, stripping his shirt and helping Dream push down his pajama bottoms like this is something they’ve done a million times. 

George turns around when he takes off his boxers and if Dream were a stronger man he would look away from his ass as he steps in, but he’s not. He looks, and he keeps looking up the long line of George’s back to his smooth shoulders. For a second, he almost looks young again and something about it digs its claws into Dream’s heart. 

“Come on,” George sticks his head out of the shower, “The water will get cold.”

He takes off his boxers with a deep breath and steps in. 

“Hi,” He breathes, facing George. 

“Hello,” George blinks back at him, “Will you hand me the body wash?”

He picks up the bottle and hands it to George, cringing when his back twinges a little at the bend. 

“Are you okay?” George’s hands are on his sides instantly, helping him straighten out. 

He’s finding it impossible to forget that they’re naked, that George’s hands are on his bare body. 

“Fine, just a little achy. I have physical therapy today, remember?”

“I do, actually. Your last one,” George removes his hands and takes the body wash from Dream, pouring some into his hands. He tries not to watch as George soaps himself up, gentle hands running over his chest. 

“Mhm, and then I’m all better,” He takes the soap and begins to wash his own body, pointedly looking away as George’s hands move lower. 

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” George’s hands are moving below his hips and Dream watches the way his arms move but doesn’t allow himself to look down. 

“Ugh,” Dream sighs, “I just don’t want surgery.”

“I don’t want you to have surgery either. It scares me,” George tells him honestly, turning around to rinse himself off in the spray. He looks at George’s ass again, and feels his stomach flip. He wants to feel it in his hands. 

“I haven’t had surgery since I was 23,” Dream tells him. 

“Yeah, and it scared me then, too,” George turns back around, “Can you wash your legs?”

“What?”

“Your legs. Can you bend down to wash them?”

“Um,” Dream swallows. He could, probably. Usually he finds it easier to put a leg on the lip of the tub rather than bend down, but he manages. “I don’t think so,” He lies. 

“I can wash them if you need,” George offers, and his eyes are so dark Dream could fall into them. 

“Okay,” He swallows, and doesn’t look away as George starts to sink down. “George, your knees-”

“My knees are fine, Dream,” George tells him calmly, and then he’s on the shower floor looking up at Dream. 

“George,” He feels emotional suddenly, reaching out to cup George’s face. His hair is wet and falling in his eyes, dark gray becoming even darker under the water. 

“Let me.”

He nods, and lets George put body wash into his hands. He’s so careful in the way he touches Dream, small hands working foamy soap over his calves and the knobs of his ankles, moving up to his knees and thighs. Between his legs, his cock stirs and he prays George saves him the embarrassment of commenting on it. 

When he reaches the top of Dream’s thighs, he pauses. 

“This was from your surgery,” He puts his fingers on the scar on his abdomen. 

“Yeah,” He watches the way George rubs at the still pink mark, tracing the shape of it. 

“I was so worried for you. I knew you’d be fine but it was still really scary, and there were so-” He shakes his head, “I wanted to come stay with you and your mum just so I could be there if you needed.”

“You didn’t have to, George. I was okay.”

“But I wanted to,” George says, almost a plea. He sighs, looking away from Dream’s eyes to his scar again. 

Gently, he leans forward and presses his lips to it. 

Dream gasps like he’s been burned, steaming air ripping through his lungs as he shudders, George’s wet lips still pressed to his skin. 

“George,” He shakes, “George.”

George pulls back, looking up at him again. 

“Up- come here, come-” Dream grabs at George’s shoulders, hauling him to his feet. 

The feeling of his hands on George’s bare skin is electric, shockwaves from the tips of his fingers and it’s like something else has taken control as he switches their places and presses George against the cold tile wall. 

George’s hands go to his waist, his eyes big at the sudden movement. 

“Sorry,” George apologizes but there’s no heart to it. 

“Don’t be, please,” Water is pouring down his face. 

“Okay,” George brushes wet hair out of his eyes, “I wasn’t sorry anyways.”

Their faces are inches apart. It would be so easy to dip down and kiss him, to press George’s body to the cold tile and touch him in every way he’s wanted to for over half his life. 

“We have to get out soon,” He says instead. 

“Mm. Wouldn’t want to be late,” George squeezes his side. 

“No, we wouldn’t,” And then he leans forward and presses his mouth to George’s. 

He can feel the way George’s hands curl against his skin, the shocked inhale of breath and how their bodies align themselves to be as close as possible. 

Static erupts in Dream’s ears, the entire world being drowned out in favor of the soft sounds George is making into his mouth. There’s a frantic kind of desperation between them, their mouths sliding together hurriedly. 

“We do have to actually leave,” George gasps, head tipping back to thunk against the wall. 

“I know,” Dream kisses his jaw. He’ll never be able to stop now. For the rest of his life he will never get enough of this. 

“Dream,” George laughs, putting pruney fingers to Dream’s chest.

“Five more minutes,” He pants against damp skin, tracing his tongue along the line of George’s neck. 

“No,” George pushes him back with a smile, “We have to go. Finish washing your hair.”

Reluctantly he pulls back.

They make quick work of washing their hair and peppering quick kisses between, hurrying to get out and get dressed. 

They make it to the appointment just in time, stumbling through the doors of the office giddy and clingy. He feels like a teenager again, high off the feeling of being in love. 

His name gets called and he goes to the back, leaving George to sit in the waiting room as usual. 

“How’s George?” His physical therapist asks, starting with stretching his left leg to see how it moves. 

“Good,” He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot, “He’s trying to convince me we need to paint the kitchen again.”

“Again?” Sarah laughs, moving to his other leg. 

“Mm, he’s obsessed with changing the whole house. Last week he wanted to paint the shutters green. He said it would remind him of our first house,” He laughs. 

“You had a green house?” She asks. She’s too young to really know who he and George are, and he forgets sometimes they don’t have the relevance they used to. 

“Mhm, I had it built before he came to America. Green was kind of my thing, the whole house was painted green.”

“That’s so sweet,” Sarah pats his shoulder, letting him know to sit up, “How long ago was that?”

“God, 30 years about?” He groans as he moves but there’s no real pain. 

“Does it hurt?” She adjusts his shoulders. 

“No, no pain,” He hums. 

“I can’t believe you guys have lived together for so long.”

“Well, he’s my best friend,” He twists as Sarah guides his spine, “I love living with him.”

“Y’all are so sweet,” She squeezes his shoulder, “You’re from Orlando, right?”

“Yup. We only moved back to Florida this year, though.”

“It must be nice, sharing your life like that.”

“It is nice,” Dream nods. 

“You two aren’t married yet, right?” Sarah starts to adjust his neck. 

Yet.

“Oh,” Dream flushes, “Uh, no.”

“Do you plan on it?” She hums, and Dream realizes she thinks they’re together. 

He’d told her they weren’t married when she’d asked at his first appointment, but slowly it dawns on him he never clarified beyond that.

He thinks of the stories he always tells her about their lives, the home they share. He thinks back to this morning and George’s lips on his. Maybe they are together, in some sense. Maybe they always have been. 

“Maybe,” He tells her, mostly to avoid embarrassment but he finds his heart thumping at the idea. 

The rest of the appointment moves quickly, and soon enough his body feels loose and he’s heading back out to meet George in the lobby. 

George is sitting in the waiting room with a box in his hands he didn’t have when they arrived. 

“I got croissants from the bakery next door because we didn’t have time to eat,” His ears are pink. 

“Mm,” Dream helps him stand, “We got a little distracted.” 

George laughs, bumping Dream with his hip as they go back to the car. 

“Luckily we have no plans for the rest of the day. We could get distracted again, if you want. With no interruptions.”

“Yeah?” His heart feels lodged in his throat. It sinks in suddenly that George wants this too. 

It’s not just him. 

Somehow, it feels like a revelation. 

“George,” The name spills from Dream’s mouth without meaning to. He stops short, his shoes scuffing against asphalt. 

“Hm?” George turns, and a wave of nausea rolls over Dream. 

He’s so beautiful. Here, in the warm sun of the parking lot with a box of pastries in his hands he bought because they were too busy kissing to eat breakfast. 

“I love you,” He tells him, meaning it every bit as much as he has for the last 39 years of his life. 

George smiles, the crows feet by his eyes crinkling. “You’re such an idiot,” He laughs, and Dream loves him. He loves him. 

“I know,” He breathes, “I still love you.”

“Well, if you love me so much you should drive me home.”

“Oh, should I?”

“You should, actually.”

He does. 

They get home and Dream pulls George inside and kisses him against the front door, pushes his fingers under George’s shirt to touch his skin and lets George guide him to the bedroom. Their bedroom. 

“George,” He pants against his mouth, grabbing at soft skin and trying to push George’s shirt off his body. 

“Take our clothes off,” George licks into his mouth, presses his tongue to Dream’s teeth. 

“I’m trying,” He groans, pulling back until they’re both shirtless. 

George leeches back on to him instantly, sucking at his jaw and grabbing his chest. 

“Go-” George moans when Dream’s hands start to drift lower, fingertips grazing his ass, “Go sit on the bed,” He pulls back, breathing heavily.

“What?” Dream feels dazed, his chest heaving. 

“Go sit against the bed. And take off your pants. I’ll be right back,” George gives him another kiss on the mouth before he disappears into the bathroom and leaves Dream alone. 

He makes quick work of his pants and clamors onto the bed, his back against the headboard. He’s half-hard and touches himself gently over his blxers while he waits for George. 

Before George moved, Dream had a bad habit of touching himself to the thought of the older man. He tried to stop when George came to America, convinced it was suddenly wrong and horrible, but there would still be times he had wet dreams or just couldn’t help himself. This feels like one of those dreams come to life. 

It’s unbelievable. 

He squeezes a hand around himself, stroking slowly over his boxers. 

Briefly, he wonders if he should feel nervous. He doesn’t, more excited than anything else, if he’s being honest. 

The bathroom door creaks open after another minute and George sticks his head into the bedroom, so much like he had this morning. 

“You okay?” Dream asks, and he burns when he feels George’s eyes drift down to look at where he’s hard and touching himself. 

“Mhm. Are you ready?” George licks his lips. 

“Of course,” He squeezes himself once more as George’s head disappears behind the door, and then he’s stepping into the room and presses his back to the door, presenting himself for Dream. 

He’s naked, and the sight of him punches a heavy breath from Dream’s lungs. 

“Fuck,” His cock throbs as he looks at him.  

He’s perfect, the soft curve of his stomach and the graying hair below his navel. His cock is small and curved up towards his belly, his hands trembling. He keeps his eyes closed like it’s too much to have Dream looking at him, but Dream knows he’s supposed to look. 

“I want you to fuck me,” George tells him, vocie wobbly. 

“George,” He breathes out. 

“Please,” George swallows and Dream watches the bob of his throat, the way his hands are shaking. 

“Come here,” He reaches for George, and George stumbles forward to the bed like a magnet. 

“Dream,” George climbs into his lap, his cock dragging against Dream’s through his boxers and he takes a sharp breath. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He tells him, cupping his cheek. He rubs his thumb over the stubble there, “George, you’ve always been so beautiful. I can’t believe this.”

“Dream, please,” He clings to Dream’s neck, rutting against him awkwardly as Dream tries to hold him still. He runs his hands over George’s back, his shoulders. He feels every notch in his spine until his hands drift down towards his ass again. 

“How do you want it?” He slips his hands a little lower until George’s ass is in his hands. George moans, tipping forward to mouth at Dream’s neck and push his hips further back into his touch. 

“I don’t care, I just want it,” George kisses his jaw, “I need it.”

“Sweetheart,” Dream whispers, palming his ass, pulling him until they grind together. 

George lets out a soft exhale against his neck, hands finding their place on his chest again. 

He flips them around until George is flat on his back, Dream hovering over him and wedging his way between his legs. 

“Oh, God,” George closes his eyes when Dream sinks down, his face close to where George is hard and leaking. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Dream tells him, hands touching George’s thighs. He’s been with men before, but it’s never felt like this. He loves how the coarse hair of his legs feel against his palms, the clean manly scent of him. He presses his nose to the trimmed hair at the base of George’s cock, breathing deeply. 

George makes a high-pitched noise, his cock twitching when Dream starts to mouth at the warm skin at the base. 

“George, you don’t even know. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” He kisses his way up the shaft, his tongue pressing against the leaking head. 

“I’ve wanted it for longer,” George moans, hands curling into gentle fists in Dream’s hair. 

Dream kisses his skin, “Not possible.”

“Dream,” George sighs blissfully when Dream starts to trace the vein on his cock with his tongue, “I’ve been in love with you since I was 20.”

He freezes. “What?”

“Don’t- please, we can talk about it after. Put it in your mouth,” He whines, pushing his hips towards Dream’s face. 

Since he was 20. It rattles around in his brain like loose change, clicking loudly inside his skull. Next week George will turn 58. He’s been in love with Dream since he was 20. 

“Stop,” George cups his face, “Stop thinking. We’ll think after. I want you to fuck me now.”

He looks up the long line of George’s body and meets his dark eyes, wide and honest. “I love you,” He tells George because he has to. 

“I love you, too,” George tells him, smiling softly, “Put your fingers in me now, would you?”

It shocks a laugh out of Dream and he kisses the head of George’s cock, “Do you have lube?”

“Obviously,” George groans when Dream sucks the tip into his mouth, using his hands to spread George’s legs further. George leans over to rummage through the top drawer of the dresser, handing Dream the lube once he finds it.  

“You’ve had that in there the whole time?” Dream unclicks the cap, dripping the thick liquid onto one hand. 

“What, you think I’m too old to jerk off?” George sighs when Dream presses a finger to his rim. 

“No,” Dream kisses the juncture of his thigh, “We’ve just been sharing a room for like, a month now. It’s- you haven’t done it since then, or I would have noticed, right?”

George’s lips quirk up and he moans softly when Dream pushes his first finger in to the knuckle. 

It makes him feel a little crazy, the knowledge that George has been getting himself off in secret. It’s a stupid thing to feel giddy about, but it’s some kind of revelation. He wants George to tell him everything he does, everything he thinks about. 

He tells George this. 

“You want me to what?”

“Just- tell me. What you think about when you do.”

“I think about a lot of things, Dream,” George moans when he slips in a second finger, stretching him gently. 

“Tell me,” He feels like he’s begging but he’s not above it. 

“When I still lived in England,” He starts, giving in easily, “I used to listen to recordings of your voice.”

“Oh fuck,” He mouths at the skin of his thighs, driving his fingers in a little faster. 

“It’s so weird to think about now. I didn’t know what you looked like for so long. I’ve known your face now for longer than I haven’t, did you know that?” George moans, oblivious to the way Dream’s heart is being shredded in his chest. 

“I know,” They’ve talked about it before, mentioned once late in the night years ago. 

“It felt like forever. It felt like so long without you. I only had your voice,” He sounds almost close to tears. Dream kisses the base of his cock again, pressing against his prostate with just the tips of his fingers. 

“You would just listen to me?” 

“Yes,” George gasps, “I’d turn on a stupid video of your voice when it gets all low and I’d fuck myself listening to it and pretending you were talking to me.”

“Holy fuck, George,” He wants to cry. He adds a third finger instead. 

“Dream,” He moans around a sob, pushing his hips down for more.

“Keep talking, baby,” The pet name slips out and he sinks his teeth into George’s thigh just to feel the body beneath him. 

George cries out, head tipping back.

“I’d- I’d think about your fingers in me and your mouth on me. God, Dream, I’d sleep with other people and I’d close my eyes and pretend it was you.”

“You- oh my God, George. George,” He presses his fingers into George deeper, fucks into him and stretches him. He tries to press all his need into George’s body, tries to convey how much he loves him. 

“Please,” George’s voice is wet, his throat sticking as he begs. 

Dream watches the way his cock bobs and drips, hitting back against his stomach with a small splatter. 

“I hate that we waited for so long,” Dream tells him, tears in his eyes. 

“Dream,” George moans, pushing his hips down. He’s stretched enough now but Dream keeps using his fingers just to watch how he writhes. 

“I love you so much,” He wants to sob, “I love you, George.”

“Then fuck me,” George gasps, squirming. 

“God, fuck, okay, okay, baby,” He pulls his fingers out with a slick sound and scrambles for the lube, pushing his boxers off with his free hand. 

“You’re so big,” George moans, reaching out to take his cock in hand. 

Dream curses under his breath, pushing his hips forward into George’s hand. 

“You saw it this morning,” He reminds him, almost embarrassed. 

“It’s not the same, idiot. You weren’t hard. And you were big then too. Fuck, I want it in me.”

“Condom?” He asks, almost pained as George strokes him. It’s good, it’s so good he almost feels like he could cum before he’s even inside. 

“Do you have condoms? You don’t have sex,” George rolls his eyes. 

“Okay,” He huffs a laugh, “Whatever. I wanted to offer.”

“Neither of us have slept with anyone in like, five years.”

“I get it, George. Fuck, okay,” He swats George’s hand away to lube himself up, moaning. 

He’s careful with George’s knees as he rises on his own, letting George wrap his legs around his lower back while he shuffles forward. 

“I don’t know if I’ll last long,” He admits, pressing the head of his cock to George’s hole. His mouth feels dry as he presses in gently, watching the way George’s body opens for him. He pushes the tip in and pops it out a few times just to tease, just to watch how George moans and tightens his legs around Dream’s waist. 

“Dream,” George almost looks out of it, his face entirely slack and begging. His pretty mouth hangs open, his lips wet. 

Dream loves him so much it’s hard to breathe. He tries not to think of how they could have been doing this for 30 years. 

“Okay,” He takes a slow breath and pushes in again, running his hands over George’s hips and thighs, squeezes his soft skin. 

George makes a soft sound, needy and breathless. 

“Good?” Dream grunts, ignoring the twinge in his back. He pushes in slowly, letting George adjust. 

“Yes,” George sucks in a long breath, tipping his head back and baring his throat like he’s waiting for Dream to sink his teeth in.

“You’re so tight,” Dream breathes heavily, panting already. 

“More,” George grabs at his shoulders, pulling until their chests are pressed together and they’re sharing the same breath.  

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” Dream mouths at his neck, running his teeth along his jugular. George moans, squeezing around Dream’s cock. 

“You won’t,” George digs his nails into Dream’s skin, prying him apart, “I need it.”

He pushes in the last inch or so, and then his hips are pressed to George’s, entirely each others. 

He sinks his teeth into the soft skin of George’s throat as he moves his hips, fucking into him deep and slow, speeding up the more George cries for him. 

George’s cock is wet when he takes it in his hand, jerking him off in time with his thrusts. He soaks in the pretty noises spilling from George’s mouth, determined to catalog them all. 

It’s not long until they’re both pushed over the edge, George spilling over his fist while he cums pressed inside, their bodies curled together. 

After, he holds George close to him, petting his sweaty hair and praying to God that this will be the rest of his life. 

__________

The transition from nothing to something is slow. 

They kiss now, which is new. They kiss a lot, and Dream sort of feels like a pent-up teenager when they kiss for hours just to taste each other. They have sex too, obviously, and it’s unlike anything Dream has ever experienced. He’s not sure every time he’s had sex before this even adds up to now. 

Sometimes it feels like they do it all so much because they’re making up for lost time, and it makes something sad stir in his chest. He tries not to think about it too much. 

He’s not sure exactly what they are now. Labels have never been something they abide by, and now isn't any different. They kiss and fuck and sleep in the same bed and share their lives, but he doesn’t know what that makes them. Partners, sure, but they’ve been partners for much longer than this. He wonders if there was ever really a difference. 

He doesn’t know how to bring it up. 

__________

“We should visit your mum soon.”

“Hm?” Dream looks up from the computer. He’s editing a video for a friend of Sapnap’s son, a nice kid trying to become a vlogger. 

“Your mum. We’ve been back in Florida for almost a year now and we haven’t been back to Orlando. We should visit.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. She really likes the new building she’s in, she’s been asking for us to come see her anyway.”

She’d moved into an apartment building last year, a community specifically for older people. It’s not an old folks home, she’d told him over and over when she first mentioned wanting to move out of the house. 

“I know, she called the other day.”

“You talked to her?” 

“Mhm,” George hums, stepping up to the computer chair to wrap his arms around Dream from behind. 

“She sounded okay?”

“She sounded fine, Dream. She likes it there a lot, I think a visit would be nice. I can look for hotels tonight and we can go next week, maybe.”

“Sure. I’ll call when I’m done with this and see if next week works for her.”

“Good. Don’t sit here for too long, you’ll fuck up your back again,” George pats his chest and steps away. 

George books them a hotel in downtown Orlando, just a 10 minute walk from Dream’s moms new building. 

He gets them a suite with one big bed and after they check in Dream presses George to it and kisses him sweetly, hands all over his body. 

“We’re supposed to have dinner with your mum,” George laughs as Dream kisses his neck.

“It’s only 5, we have a little time,” Dream kisses his jaw.

“I want to shower, I’m gross from the drive,” George pushes at his shoulders until he lets up, rolling over to let them both sit up. 

“Ugh,” He groans, “Fine, go shower.”

“You don’t want to join me?” George looks over his shoulder as he stands. 

“Fuck,” Dream smiles at the ceiling, “This is so dumb. I’m too old to be this horny all the time.”

It makes George laugh, bright and sharp and Dream’s stomach stirs with it. 

“Fine, old man. Suit yourself.”

He takes a deep breath and watches George walk away, the soft sway of his hips. He collapses back against the mattress with a groan. 

Dream changes while George showers, picking out a nice button up that George bought him for Sapnap’s kids graduation last year. 

“I like that shirt on you,” George tells him while he’s getting dressed himself. 

“You bought it for me,” Dream reminds him, messing with his hair. He still finds himself frustrated with his curls too often, always a little too frizzy in a way he’s never been able to control. 

“I know, that’s why I like it,” George comes up behind him, peering over his shoulder into the mirror. 

“Should I shave before we go?” He turns his cheek to look at his beard, scrubbing his hand along his jaw. 

“Stop fussing,” George smacks at his hand, “It looks fine. We have to go, we’re going to be late.”

“Fine, fine. Get my wallet, I’ll call my mom and tell her we're on the way.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” His mom’s eyes get teary the second they see her standing outside of the restaurant, her hands held out to take Dream’s face between them. 

“Hey, mom,” He smiles, blinking back sudden tears. 

“Your beard is so long,” She taps his cheek before pulling him into a hug, squeezing him around the middle. 

“I asked George if I should shave,” He laughs as they pull apart. 

“George,” She clicks her tongue and turns to him, pulling into a hug as well. 

Something pulls wildly in his heart as he watches George and his mom hug, something so indescribable it gets stuck in his throat. 

George’s polite smile, the way his mom keeps a hand on his shoulder as they delve into small talk. Something about how much his mom has always loved George, how much he loves her back like she was his own mother.  

He feels insane for taking so long to get here. He hasn’t even told her how things have changed, but he knows she’ll know anyway. He thinks she's been suspecting for a long time, longer than it was even true. 

“Come in, we’re going to be late for our reservation,” She pats George’s shoulder and heads into the restaurant. 

“Your mum loves me,” George bumps his shoulder as he holds the door open for him, following him inside. 

“She’s always loved you.”

“Of course she has,” He grins. 

After dinner, they walk with his mom back to her new building. 

She gives them both a detailed tour of everything, pointing out the swimming pool and dog park, which floor each of her new friends live on as they take the elevator up. 

It makes his heart warm that she’s so happy, glad she’s found a place like this in her later years. His younger sister and brother still live in Orlando and visit her often, and he’s happy she’s not alone. 

They sit around in her living room for a bit, chatting and continuing some discussions from dinner. George puts his hand on Dream’s arm every time he makes him laugh, leans into him comfortably. 

After a bit George excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving Dream and his mom alone. 

She turns to him the second the door shuts.

“What?” He laughs a little nervously, but he knows she’s picked up on their subtle change. 

“Don’t what me. You’re different,” She tells him simply. 

“Different?”

“Happy,” She folds her hands together. 

“I’ve been happy for a long time, I’m always happy,” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to avoid the discussion, not when he knows it's inevitable. 

She gives him a pointed look, “Not like this. I’m not a fool, you know.”

“I never said you were,” He frowns. 

“I’m very happy for you, sweetheart. For both of you. I love you very much, you know that.”

His eyes go misty, “Thanks,” He croaks, “It’s not- I mean, we haven’t really talked about it. What we are but he- you know how it is. He’s George.”

“He is George,” She agrees, “He’s always been very special to you.”

“Yeah,” His throat feels tight thinking of all the years they’ve spent together, how much he’s always loved him. 

“What is it, honey?” His mom frowns, reaching out to take his hand. 

“I feel like I missed my chance sometimes,” He laughs wetly.

His mom frowns, squeezing his hand, “Missed your chance?”

He gives her a sad smile, “We’re old now. It’s like- I just waited so long. We could’ve had this years ago, mom, and I was- I was scared and told myself I just needed a little more time to be sure he felt the same but I kept waiting and waiting and it got scarier and harder until-” He sighs a shaky breath, “Until it had just been so long it felt like it was too late. And now we’ll never get all of that time back.”

“Clay,” She sighs, “My sweet boy. You don’t need that time back. You already had it, honey. Just because you weren’t together doesn’t mean you weren’t together. You still had each other, you still had all of those years and all of those memories.”

“I just wish I hadn’t been so stupid,” He sniffles, wiping at his eyes. 

“Everyone moves on their own time,” His mom hums, “There’s nothing wrong with you two taking your time. Look at all the years you get now! You can do anything!”

He laughs wetly, “I could marry him.”

“You could,” She smiles, “Do you want to?”

“I-” Just as he opens his mouth the bathroom door creaks open and George walks back into the room, shaking his soap-wet hands. 

“Are you okay?” He frowns as soon as he notices Dream’s wet eyes. 

He steps up to him and puts two hands on his face, making Dream look up at him. 

“I’m fine. I’m so good, George,” He finds it’s not an exaggeration. 

They get recognized the next morning when they’re out to breakfast. 

“Excuse me?” A woman approaches them cautiously as they’re leaving the diner. 

She can’t be more than 5 years younger than him, he thinks. 

“Hi,” He smiles, and gives his mom a look to step back while he and George talk to the woman. 

It’s funny how he still has a sense for being recognized even after all these years. It happens much less now than it did, but it still makes his heart warm when it does. 

“Are you- I mean, you’re Dream, right? and George?”

“Yeah,” He grins. 

“Hello,” George greets her, and then he’s stepping up to Dream’s side and winding their arms together. It almost startles Dream, the public affection. 

He feels the way the woman’s eyes lock on it immediately, and he wonders if she’s going to say something. 

“Oh my God,” The woman laughs, “This is crazy. I loved you guys. You were my whole teenage years, I swear. I can’t believe you’re still in Orlando!”

“I can’t believe people still recognize us,” Dream gives a soft laugh, “It’s really nice to meet you.”

The woman laughs, and then pauses like she wants to ask something. Dream knows what it’s going to be before she even opens her mouth. 

“Have you-” She starts, and George’s arm tightens around Dream’s.

“Not always,” George answers before she can ask. 

The woman looks a little sad for a moment, and Dream wonders if its a sadness for them or someone else. 

“Well,” She says, a small smile, “I’m glad you got there eventually. There were a lot of people cheering you on.”

“Thanks,” He laughs awkwardly, “Did you want a picture, or something?”

“No, no,” She shakes her head, smiling, “It was just really nice to meet you. Have a great day.”

“Thank you,” George presses his cheek to Dream’s shoulder. 

“You too,” Dream calls as she walks away. 

“I think we just came out to that woman before we even came out to Sapnap,” George says. 

Dream turns to him with wide eyes, “Oh fuck.”

George bursts into a laugh just as Dream’s mom steps back to them again, a puzzled look on her face. 

“You boys alright?”

“I have to call Nick later,” He croaks while George laughs. 

__________

When they get back from Orlando, they form a habit of taking walks after dinner. 

They’d picked it up from Dream’s mom, who had formed the habit recently herself. 

“We could walk down to the beach,” George suggests, “It’s not even a mile.”

“Sure,” Dream shrugs, and then they collect their sweaters and keys and lock the door behind them. 

Winter in Florida is hardly a real winter, the air still warm enough to wear short sleeves most days, but it’s sunset and it’s just chilly enough for them to wear sweaters, linking their fingers together as they move slowly down the streets. 

“Do you ever miss England?” Dream asks, their pinkies looped together. 

“Not anymore,” George answers honestly, “Not in a long time, at least.”

“We could go visit soon, if you wanted. See your sister or something.”

“Maybe,” George agrees, “She could also just come here for once, though.”

“Stop,” Dream squeezes his hand, “You know she doesn’t like flying.”

“Whatever,” George rolls his eyes. He kicks as a pebble as they walk, keeping to rolling steady as the asphalt starts turning sandy. 

“What do you miss most about it?” Dream asks him after a minute. He’s not sure why it’s so on his mind tonight. 

“Hm,” George kicks the pebble too hard when they reach the edge of the beach, lodging it in the sand. “The weather maybe. I kind of miss winter in London.”

“You don’t even like being cold,” Dream bumps into him gently as they kick their shoes off by the wooden stairs leading down to the beach. 

“I guess, but there’s still something nice about it. It never snows here.”

“We got flurries once. In like, 2017.”

“That hardly counts, it didn’t even stick or anything.”

“Well, still. What do you miss about it?”

“Just- I dunno. Why do you want to know so bad?”

Dream shakes his head, unsure, “It’s just weird to think how you lived there for so much of your life and then you just- didn’t.”

They trudge through the cold sand, the ocean crashing loudly beside them. There’s something special about the beach in winter. 

Dream likes how quiet it is, how it sits mostly empty when it’s too cold to enjoy the water or just sit around in the sun. 

“I’ve lived in America for longer than I lived in England now, you know.”

“God,” Dream chokes around the knowledge, “Isn’t it weird?”

“It’s not weird. I spent, like, half of my life in England wanting to be in America.”

“Is it everything you thought it would be? Before you moved?”

“You know I moved, like, over 30 years ago right? Why are you just now questioning it?” George laughs, pulling Dream closer to the water. 

The sand under their feet turns damp as they stand just on the edge of the tide, salt water lapping at their toes. 

“It just still doesn’t feel real sometimes. Isn’t that dumb? You’ve been here for over half of my life and I still look at you sometimes and think I just made you up. We spent so long waiting for you to get here and that time isn’t even a drop in the bucket anymore.”

“Good.”

“Good?” Dream looks at him. His gray hair matches the gloomy sky, peppered with different shades of gray and white. Stormy, almost. 

“I’m glad that time feels like nothing now. Look at everything that made up for it.”

Dream does. He looks at George and he loves him more than he knew was possible. It swells inside him, thundering. 

__________

“It’s almost Christmas,” George tells him in early December. 

“It is,” Dream hums back, pushing his reading glasses up his nose. 

“What are we going to do for it?”

“Hm,” He bookmarks his chapter, “I’m not sure. What do you want to do?”

“Maybe we should go somewhere,” George suggests, “We haven’t really been on a holiday since we moved.”

“Where would you wanna go? It’s kind of short notice, we only have 2 weeks to plan.”

George sighs and stretches his legs out to rest his feet in Dream’s lap, “We could go to LA. Visit Sapnap and the kids.”

“We could,” Dream nods. 

“Do you not want to?” 

“No, it’s not that. I dunno, maybe it would be nice to just have Christmas together. Me and you.”

“We haven’t had a Christmas alone in, like, 10 years.” 

“12, actually.”

“Of course you count,” George laughs. 

“The first Christmas we had when you moved to America was just the two of us,” Dream squeezes a hand around George’s ankle. 

“Mm, you brought me to your family party,” George grins at him, “You were so in love with me. This is my- my George,” He mocks the way Dream had sputtered when introducing him. 

“Stop,” Dream laughs, cheeks heating, “Of course I was.”

George’s face lights up, pleased at Dream’s answer. 

“Good,” He smiles. 

Dream looks at him for a long minute, his heart constricting. 

“I love you,” He chokes on the words. 

“I love you too,” George’s voice is gentle, and Dream can’t breathe. 

“Can you-” He puts his book down and reaches toward George, “Come here.”

George blinks at him, but gets up to shuffle his way over until he’s in Dream’s lap, wrapping his arms around Dream’s neck. 

Dream loops his arms around George’s waist, buries his face in his neck. 

“Are you okay?” George presses his mouth to Dream’s hair. 

“I’m sorry I took so long to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“How I felt. It- I made you wait so long. I’m so sorry George,” He wants to cry. 

“Dream,” He can hear the frown in George’s voice, “You didn’t make me wait. I could’ve- I could’ve said something too. It was both of us.”

“I still-” He chokes on his words, eyes burning, “George. George.”

“I know,” George pets his hair, kisses his temple gently, “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It’s not, George, we wasted so much time,” He cries, holding George tighter, “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry, George.”

“Stop being sorry,” George soothes him, “Stop it. Enough being sorry. I don’t care about waiting. We waited a million years for me to move to America, we waited a million years for this. It doesn’t matter, I don’t care. We got here anyway,” He kisses his cheek again. 

“You shouldn’t have had to wait. You shouldn’t have-” He chokes on the words. 

“You’re just going to make yourself crazy if you keep thinking like that,” George grabs his face gently, “Stop it. Stop- stop spiraling. We can’t change anything. Everything already happened. You just- we just have the future, or whatever. We have so much time now, there’s no use thinking about things before this.”

“I love you,” His voice shakes, “George. I love you so much.”

“I know,” George laughs wetly, shaking his head, “I know. I love you too,” He kisses the corner of Dream’s mouth. 

He makes a sad noise and turns his head to capture George’s lips against his. 

George is soft above him, pliant when he parts his mouth to let Dream lick into it, hands winding in his hair. 

They kiss until they can’t breathe, pulling apart panting. 

“Take me to bed,” George whispers, pressing their foreheads together. 

“Fuck,” He breathes, standing and gathering George in his arms to carry him into their bedroom. 

He presses George into their mattress, strips their clothes and crawls between his legs, knees pressed to his chest. 

“I love you,” Dream looks up at George from between his legs before pressing a dry kiss to his rim. 

“I know,” George sighs when Dream lolls out his tongue. 

He loves getting George like that, loves it as much as he spent years thinking he would. He presses his tongue flat over his hole, works at the muscle until it loosens and dips his tongue inside. George’s thighs tremble on either side of his head, his ankles hooked behind his neck. 

It’s heady, warm and secret between George’s legs and Dream thinks he could die here and be happy. He tongues at his puckered rim, moans at how easily George opens up for him. 

Above him, he can hear the slick sound of George jerking off. He can’t see with his eyes closed but he pictures George’s hand moving over his small cock and wants to cry when he thinks about all the time he spent missing out on this. 

He presses his hands to George’s ass, spreads him wider and presses his tongue deeper. His own legs shift on the bed so he can hump against it as he gets George off, mindless in the movements of his tongue. 

“So good,” George moans, slipping one hand down to pull at Dream’s hair. 

Tears leak from the corners of his eyes as he works his mouth. He moans against him, lets it vibrate through George’s body. 

“My good boy,” George tugs at the roots of his hair and Dream can tell he’s close, “Always been so good to be. Always,” He says like he means it. 

He makes a muffled noise, his jaw starting to get sore from the way he’s using his mouth intently. 

It’s only another minute until George seizes up and cums with a long cry, holding Dream’s face close to the molten core of himself. 

When he released the grip on Dream’s hair, Dream shoves a hand down his pants and finishes with three strokes. 

In the aftermath, he crawls up the bed to tuck his face against George’s neck. 

__________

It’s a quiet morning when Dream tells him. 

The windows are open and distantly Dream can hear the crashing sound of waves, the screech of seagulls. He’d never cared much about living close to the beach until George, and now he can’t imagine anything else. 

They painted the kitchen blue a few weeks ago and Dream likes how it looks in the morning, the coolness of it and how much brighter it makes George look in comparison.

“We should get married,” He says, hands cupping a warm mug and eyes still glazed over from sleep. 

He watches the way George’s back straightens where he’s stood over the stove pushing around scrambled eggs. 

“What?” George’s voice holds no emotion. 

“We should get married,” Dream repeats. 

George turns to him slowly. “Married?”

“Yes,” Dream frowns, “Do you not want to?”

“This is a shit proposal,” George chokes on a nervous laugh, and Dream squints when he thinks he sees tears in his eyes. 

“George-”

“Sorry,” He turns back to the stove,  “Sorry. Yes, we should. We should get married.”

He stands from the table, the wooden chair scraping against tile floors. 

“Did I say something wrong?” He approaches cautiously. 

“No,” George laughs wetly, “You want to get married.”

“We don’t have to,” He places a gentle hand on George’s waist, almost scared he might run off like a frightened animal. 

“I want to,” George tells him, standing eerily still. It makes panic grow in Dream’s chest. Suddenly he feels like he might throw up. 

“Why are you being weird then?” 

For a horrifying moment, he thinks this is the end. 

He thinks, I’ve finally pushed too far. 

And then George looks at him and everything feels okay again.

“I just-” George shakes his head, and then he turns to look at Dream with big watery eyes, “I spent a really long time thinking I would end up alone.”

In the quiet of their kitchen, Dream thinks he can hear the sound of his heart shattering. 

“You’d have never been alone,” His own eyes grow wet, “George. Even- even if- you wouldn’t be alone. I’d have always been here. I am always here- you were never-” He feels frantic, like he needs George to understand. 

“I know,” George places a hand on his chest, “I know but I- I held on to this idea that one day you were going to find somebody else. You’d find someone who was better than me and move out and start a family and I’d be alone again.”

“George,” He gasps around his name, “There’s no one better than you. There’s- no one. No one has ever been better than you. They couldn’t. All I’ve ever wanted is you.”

He needs George to understand so badly he feels crazy, like nothing he could ever do would truly explain it. He gives George a look that pleads with him to get it. 

“You want to marry me,” George laughs, crying, and Dream thinks it worked. 

“I do."

“God,” George wipes at his eyes with his palms, “God. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Dream takes him in his arms, sliding his hands under his shirt to touch the warm skin of his back, “I love you. We’ll get married.”

“We will,” George hums, weepy as he tucks his face against Dream’s neck, “We have to tell Sapnap.”

“We have to tell a lot of people. It’s a wedding, George,” He sniffles happily, counting each notch in George’s spine with his fingers. 

“I’m too old to have a big wedding,” George shakes his head against Dream’s shoulder. 

“You’re not,” Dream slips one hand down to play with the waistband of George’s pajama bottoms, “My Grandma remarried when she was, like, 70. She had a big wedding.”

“I don’t want one, then,” George corrects himself, “Just us. And Sapnap.”

“Can my mom come?” 

“Fine. Her too.”

“Okay, deal.”

“And I want a nice ring. No jewels though.”

“Okay,” Dream laughs, “Is that it?”

"I'd like a cat again, too. A kitten. I want it to be my wedding present."

"Mm, I can arrange that. Any other demands?" 

“No,” George holds him close, “That’s it. Just you.”

“Just me?” Dream kisses the crown of his head, breathes in the smell of his shampoo. 

“Always you. And me.”

“Of course,” Dream kisses him again, “Always you.”

__________

“It’s almost been a year since we moved here,” George tells him, the fire of their fire pit lighting up his face. The new kitten is sleeping in his lap and Dream watches George's hand move gently across her dark fur, the light catching on his ring  

Oranges and yellows dance across his skin, his eyes almost glowing. 

It’s not really cold enough to warrant a fire pit, but it’s January and George said they hadn’t done enough in the winter spirit this year. 

“At the end of the month, right?” Dream blinks back against the light. 

He loves how George looks like this, how the light catches the pretty planes of his face while the night sinks into the shadows. 

“Mhm. It’s been a good year.”

“It has,” Dream agrees. 

It’s been the biggest year of his life, he thinks, and then he feels a little silly for it. 

It’s the biggest year of his life at 55, when he’d spent years doing youtube and making music, performing concerts and attending conventions and being a celebrity. And still, none of it has topped this year. 

“What are you thinking about?” George waves his hand in front of his face suddenly.

His eyes flick back to George, heart pumping, “Hm?”

“You zoned out. What are you thinking about?”

“You. The year, I guess.”

“You’re always thinking about me,” George grins, “What about the year?”

“Just- I think this was maybe the best year of my life.”

George laughs, shocked and happy, “Better than the year you made, like, one million dollars in a month?”

“Better,” Dream smiles. He knows the game George is about to play. 

“Better than… the year you started making music?”

“Hm. Yeah, better than that too.”

“Better than the year you met me?” There’s a mischievous glint in his eye now. 

“Well,” Dream scoots across the bench until their sides are flush, “Maybe not that year. That was a good one.”

“Without that year, you wouldn't have had this one,” George reaches down to play with his fingers, massaging at his knuckles where the joints ache sometimes. "Don't wake the baby," He tells him when his hand twitches, nearly poking the sleeping kitten. He stills himself.

“That’s true,” Dream hums, “But this year we- you know. We did it.”

“Did it?” George squawks, almost offended, “We did a lot this year.”

“We speedran our whole relationship this year, George. Last year, we moved to this house and had never even kissed. And now we’re married.”

“Well, we kissed that one time before this year. Twice, actually, if you count that time in Greece.”

“Okay,” Dream flushes, “Whatever. You know what I meant.”

George hums, picking up Dream’s other hand to rub at it too. “We fell in love this year.”

“George,” Dream sighs, “I was in love with you way before this year.”

“Well I was in love with you for even longer. Take that, idiot.”

“It’s not a competition,” Dream laughs. 

“It is and I won. You’re my prize,” George tangles their hands together, George’s left hand with Dream’s left hand forming an awkward jumble of fingers.

He can feel George looking at the way their rings clink softly together.

“I’m very lucky to be your prize, then,” Dream tells him, meaning it. 

“You are,” George agrees, “I love you.”

“Oh, George,” He leans into him, his back twinging. He knows when they go inside George will work his bony knuckles into the small of Dream’s back and work out the knot until he falls asleep. “I love you, baby. I love you, George.”