Archive of Our Own ^omega

George wakes up to his head bumping harshly against the window of the car, his eyes blinking open against harsh light and a dull throbbing. 

“Where are we?” His voice is groggy, deeper than normal from sleep. 

“Uh,” Dream startles, “Somewhere in Alabama?” 

“Why’d you say it like a question?” George groans, sitting up the best he can from the passenger seat. He stretches his shoulders, twists his spine. 

“I don’t know,” Dream’s voice is rough, “I just don’t know exactly where we are. Somewhere in Alabama.” He says it more definitive this time. 

“How long’s it been, then?” He yawns, eyes finally focusing on the long stretch of road ahead of them. 

“8 hours? You’ve only been asleep for a few.”

“How much left?”

“God, George,” Dream makes an off noise, “Are you that sick of being in the car with me already?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” George pulls his legs up to his chest, leaning back against the window. 

“9 more hours,” Dream sighs, “We’re not gonna get there til late, but we should be fine.”

“Ok,” George hums.

The music plays softly from the radio, something gentle and calm. They’re not in the Tesla, but some classic model of a car George can’t remember the name of. It was Dream’s car before everything, before he was shut in for three years and had more money than either of them could have imagined.

They’re driving to Oklahoma. 

It’s not a planned trip, decided only after Dream had already been driving for an hour. 

Last night had been bad. 

It had started with Dream and some stupid tweet Sapnap liked, and then things were spiraling, and Dream and Sapnap were fighting and all of them were screaming. It ended with Dream and George in the extra car, 15 hours of road stretched ahead of them. 

The air between them is still a little heavy, a lot of things still left unsaid, and George knows Dream is still hurting. He wants to ask if he’s talked to Sapnap since they left, since George fell asleep, but he knows the answer. 

He pulls his phone out of his hoodie pocket and checks his notifications, seeing a list of irrelevant Twitter interactions and text messages he’ll forget to respond to as soon as he looks away. 

He glances at the time, 1:28 blinking back at him. It’s already afternoon. 

“Have you stopped at all?” 

Dream makes a disgruntled noise, “Stopped for gas like an hour ago.”

So, George thinks, no. That means he hasn’t eaten, either. 

They’d gotten in the car with nothing, no food or suitcases, not even a backpack. Dream had just walked out in a blaze of fury and George was helpless but to follow. 

“I’m hungry,” He announces. Dream will stop for him even if he won’t stop for himself. 

“We can stop at the next exit,” Dream agrees easily. 

His voice is monotone in a way it never is, and it’s unsettling. 

“Maybe we should stop somewhere for a few hours.”

He watches Dream’s brow furrow, his face cold. 

“Why?”

“Why? Dream,” George sighs, wanting to avoid any more arguing, “You’ve been driving since 5 am, you’ve got to be exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” His hands flex on the wheel. 

George breathes out and turns back to look at him, taking notice of the way his eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, his lips unusually chapped. He doesn’t have his usual glow, the brightness that George so closely associates him with. 

When Dream says nothing further, George turns back to look out the window. 

“There’s food at this exit,” He comments when a sign comes up. 

“Can we eat in the car?” Dream asks, but starts to get over anyway. 

“Why are you in such a rush, it’s not like we have to be there. We can stop for an hour or something.”

“George,” Dream sighs, sad. 

“Stop. Just- Let’s just stop for a minute, Dream. Look, there’s a cracker barrel, let’s just stop there. We can sit and eat.”

“At Cracker Barrel?”

“Yes,” George crosses his arms, “Remember when we went there with Bad and Skeppy and Punz and everyone?” He catches Sapnap’s name on his tongue, unsure of how Dream will react to it. 

“I guess.”

It’s not much of an answer, but he pulls into the parking lot right off the exit and George feels some kind of relief. 

The car makes an uncomfortable noise as it slows down, “Is this thing even going to make it the rest of the drive?” George asks as they pull into a parking space. 

“It’ll be fine, it’s just old.”

There’s no room for argument, so George sits quietly as Dream parks. 

“Are you hungry?” George asks as they walk through the parking lot, the air a discomforting type of cold for this time of year. 

“I dunno. I guess,” Dream shrugs, holding the door open for George to slip past. 

“When was the last time you even ate?”

“Whatever time we ate last night, I guess.”

“Jesus, Dream,” George mutters under his breath and steps back as Dream approaches the hostess, getting them a table. 

They follow her back to a quiet table next to a big window, Dream sitting across from George. 

He looks exhausted in the cool afternoon light, and George aches something deep in his chest. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket while Dream is looking at the menu, sneaking a text to Sapnap. 

George: somewhere in Alabama

He shoves it back in his pocket before Dream notices and opens his menu, deciding on the first thing that sounds good. 

Their server brings them a basket of biscuits and cornbread and George pushes a biscuit onto Dream’s plate before taking a piece of cornbread for himself. 

“They don’t have this in England,” George tells him, breaking the muffin open and smearing butter between the pieces. 

“They don’t have cornbread?” Dream breaks open his bread and George feels better when he slathers it in butter and jam. 

“Not really. I’ve never seen it until I came here, at least.”

He pours a little honey between the slices and moans dramatically as he takes a bite, feeling satisfied when Dream rolls his eyes and holds back a grin. 

“I guess it makes sense. Cornbread is like, so southern.”

“I like southern food more than I thought I would, honestly.”

“Yeah?” Dream asks cautiously.

“Yeah? Why’d you say it like that?” George wrinkles his nose. 

Their server interrupts them, taking their order, and George can feel Dream looking at him as soon as she walks away. 

“I’m just… I dunno. Glad you like living here, I guess.”

“Dream,” He tries to not let the hurt show in his voice. 

“Sorry. It’s stupid, I dunno.”

“It’s not stupid,” George furrows his brow, “But it doesn’t matter where we lived. Florida or, or Alabama, or England, or fucking- Spain or something. I’d like it because that’s where you are,” He tells him definitively. 

He watches Dream’s eyes soften, the bags under his eyes seeming heavier. 

“Right,” He breathes, and George knows there’s more he’s holding back. He doesn’t push him further. 

Silence is heavy as they wait and George can feel Dream thinking from across the table. 

They don’t talk again until their food arrives. 

“Are you gonna be ok to keep driving?” George asks, poking at his pancakes. 

“Yeah,” Dream swallows around a mouthful. He’s eating and George is glad. He makes a mental note to grab some snacks and water from the store before they leave. 

“You’ve been driving for a really long time, if you need to take a break-” 

“I’m fine, George.” 

“I know, but I’m just saying-”

“George,” Dream says firmly once, and George bites the inside of his cheek, dropping it. 

“Fine. Whatever.”

He goes back to picking at his pancakes. 

“Do we have a place to stay when we get there?” George tries a different angle after a few minutes, afraid of the silence between them. 

“Uh,” Dream pauses, “Not really.”

“Not really?”

“I’ll call and make a hotel reservation when we get back in the car, it’ll be fine.”

“Maybe…” George starts tentatively, “Maybe we could just go home. Instead. It’s like, the same distance back as it is there, right?”

“I don’t want to go back,” Dream says firmly. 

“We don’t even have any clothes, Dream, we have nothing packed, we just-”

“Do you want to go home? You want to fucking leave too? Fine, George. I’ll fucking- I’ll get you the next flight out of the closest airport or something, and you can fucking go home,” Dream bursts, his hands curling into upset fists. George can see the way he digs his fingernails into his palms.  

“That is not what I mean, and you know that,” George says calmly, firmly. He keeps his head level, breathes deeply, and reminds himself that Dream is still just hurt, still vulnerable and bruised by his fight with Sapnap. 

He remembers how broken Dream had been as he stormed out of the house, George terrified as he trailed behind him. 

Dream lets out an upset sigh and runs his hands through his hair, covering his face with one hand. 

“I know,” He says, muffled behind his hands. 

“Get the check, I want to leave,” George announces, “I’m going to the bathroom, you need to go too before we leave,” He instructs like a mother. 

Dream moves his hands and looks up as George stands from the table. George wants to kiss the dark eyebags lining his eyes, to brush away the hurt etched into the lines of his face. 

Neither of them speak, but George puts a gentle hand on Dream’s shoulder as he passes.

The bathroom is empty when George enters and he’s glad to have a moment alone, sighing heavily into the quiet space. 

He picks a stall and pisses, groaning to himself when he hears the bathroom door open. He finishes and opens the stall door, pausing when he sees Dream standing at the sink. 

“Hey,” He blinks, moving to the sink next to Dream to wash his hands. 

“I’m sorry,” Dream apologizes, and George wrinkles his brow. 

“What are you apologizing for?”

He shakes his wet hands and Dream grimaces, turning to grab a few paper towels from behind him. 

“Being a dick earlier, I dunno. Kidnapping you in the middle of the night to drive halfway across the country,” Dream shrugs. 

“You didn’t kidnap me, I followed you to the car.”

“You didn’t know where I was even going,” Dream tries to push back. 

“Ok? Neither did you,” George won’t let him. 

Dream groans and George knows he’s won, dumping the paper towels into the trash can. 

“Can you just let me be sorry?”

“No,” George steps to stand in front of him, “You need to piss before we leave.”

Dream rolls his eyes but moves to a urinal anyway, and George turns with warm cheeks as he waits for him to finish and wash his hands. 

They walk out together, the air feeling a little easier between them.

By the time they pay for their meal and some snacks from the store, it’s been a little over an hour since they arrived. 

George slides into the passenger seat, bringing his feet up to rest on the dash as Dream buckles his seatbelt and starts the car. 

Or, he attempts to. 

George looks at him nervously as the car doesn’t start, but Dream keeps his face calm as he tries again. 

It starts this time but with a concerning hiss of the engine and a popping sound that bubbles anxiety in George’s stomach. 

“Dream.”

“It’s fine, I told you, it’s just an old car. It runs fine,” Dream shifts into reverse and George gives him a disbelieving look. 

He turns the radio back up as Dream puts the car into drive, pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the highway. 

He spends a long time just watching Dream drive, an hour maybe, memorizing the veins of his hands when they flex on the wheel, the slope of his nose as he keeps his focus on the road. 

His phone hasn’t buzzed since the restaurant, his message to Sapnap sitting unread and unnoticed. He tries to focus on anything else, tries to pretend that everything is fine and he hadn’t run away with Dream in the middle of the night. 

The song changes and George watches the way Dream lights up a little. He shifts to turn more towards him. 

“Listen to this,” Dream tells him. 

“I was going to, anyway,” George blinks at him. 

“No, like- Ok, like really listen. Shh, just- just listen,” Dream shushes him and turns up the sound as the lyrics begin. 

Black hole opened in the kitchen, every clock’s a different time. 

The voice is soft, sad in a way that the music Dream listens to sometimes is. 

It would only take the energy to fix it. 

I don’t know why, I am the way I am,

Not strong enough to be your man. 

George blinks at Dream again, something tugging in his heart. 

I tried, I can’t stop staring at the ceiling fan and spinning out, about, things that haven’t happened. Breathing in, and out. 

He wants to say something, but he stays quiet, listening to the song like Dream had told him to. A new voice begins, and George focuses on the words. 

Drag racing through the canyon, singing boys don’t cry. 

Do you see us getting scraped up off the pavement?

The car sputters a concerning noise again, and George still stays quiet, still listening. 

I don’t know why I am the way I am, not strong enough to be your man. 

I lied, I am just lowering your expectations. 

Half a mind that keeps the other second guessing, close my eyes and count. 

Something about that chorus twists in George’s stomach. He tries to put his feelings aside and listen to the song, listen for Dream. 

Always an angel, never a God

The bridge starts, the line repeating over and over as the music builds, three voices blending together perfectly. 

The music swells in George’s chest and he can’t take his eyes off Dream, searching for something to be written across his face as the line breaks, a third singer breaking away from the bridge. 

I don’t know why I am the way I am,

there’s something in the static, I think I’ve been having revelations. 

Coming to, in the front seat, nearly empty. 

Skip the exit to our old street and go home. 

The song begins to end, and a lump feels stuck in George’s throat. He’s not sure if he should break the tension sitting fragile between them. 

Dream’s eyes look a little shiny when he focuses on them again. 

“Dream,” His voice feels a little sticky when he speaks. 

“It’s uh- I heard it on some random playlist the other day,” Dream says, his fingers tapping against the wheel. 

“It was good. It was- it was kind of sad. But the music was kind of happy.”

“Yeah.”

He can see the way Dream presses his tongue against his cheek. 

“Is that- like, do you feel like that?” He broaches the subject cautiously. He’s afraid to tip the balance between them. 

He hates this, this fragile state of everything. He doesn’t know what’s going on in Dream’s head and it scares him. He’s never felt this disconnected from him before. He wishes Sapnap would text him back. He wishes none of them had said the things they did last night. 

“I guess,” Dream answers, “I dunno.”

It’s a non-answer, and George finds it frustrating. He tries to not let it show. 

The chorus repeats in his head, making him feel a little sick. Not strong enough to be your man. He thinks of the fight again, the insinuation between some of Sapnap’s words and the hurtful echo of Dream’s own. 

He opens his mouth to find more words when the car makes another noise, suddenly jolting. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

“Uh,” Dream looks nervous as the car sputters again, “I don’t know.”

“Oh my God,” George’s heart pumps with anxiety, the car lurching, “Oh my fucking God, the car is breaking down. Dream. Dream.”

“It is not breaking down, just- I don’t-” Dream’s eyes go wide in the rearview mirror as smoke begins to stream from behind them. George turns in his seat to watch white smoke puffs from the back of the car. 

“We’re going to fucking die,” George grips the car door, panic surging in his chest, “We’re literally going to fucking die in the middle of nowhere.”

The last time he had checked they were somewhere in Mississippi. The highways were mostly empty out here, and George isn’t sure he’s seen another car in almost 30 minutes. 

“We’re not going to fucking die, George, Jesus. It’s- look,” Dream points at the upcoming exit sign, “There’s a town here, there’s probably a fucking mechanic or something, we can pull over for a few hours and get the car fixed.”

“If the car will even make it that far, it looks like it’s going to fucking explode, you need to pull over!”

“It’s not going to explode, holy fuck, just calm down, you’re stressing me out!” Dream barks, hands tightening on the wheel. 

“The car is fucking smoking!” George shouts back as they turn onto the exit. 

“It’s fine!”

“It’s not fucking fine, Dream! None of this is fine, we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere and the car is about to explode!” He holds himself back from mentioning Sapnap, worried to fuel Dream’s emotional state even further. 

“Just- get the fucking map and find the closest mechanic,” Dream grits his teeth, “The smoke is white, that means it’s fine to keep driving until we find a shop.”

George scrambles for Dream’s phone to reroute them to the closest mechanic shop. 

“It’s- 6 miles to the closest shop.”

The instructions begin to play through the phone’s speaker. 

“It’s fine. It’s not 5 yet, they should still be open. We’ll make it. It’s fine,” Dream repeats. 

George stays quiet, biting his tongue. The rabid panic in his chest calms, anxiety still thrumming gently as the car sputters down the road. 

He can’t tell if Dream is actually calm, or if he’s just pretending. He’s not sure which he’d prefer.

The roads start to get more populated the further they get into town. It seems like a proper little town, the streets lined with small businesses and homes. 

They pass a bar, a McDonald’s, another bar, a Holiday Inn. 

The phone tells them to take the next right, and the mechanic shop comes into view as soon as they round the corner. 

“Fuck,” Dream sighs under his breath as they pull into the driveway. 

The car stops with a screeching noise, the engine sputtering out as Dream parks and turns it off. 

A man steps out of the front door of the shop as soon as they exit the car. He looks young, maybe only a little older than George. He’s handsome too, and George immediately feels bad for noticing. 

The man wipes his hands with an oily towel, eyes searching the car immediately, “Can I help y’all?” 

“Uh, hi, yeah, our car is like, broken,” George decides to speak, despite knowing nothing about cars. The man’s lip twitches into a smile, his dark eyes lighting up with amusement. 

He laughs, “Well, I figured. Can you tell me a little more?”

George feels his cheeks heat, embarrassed. He can feel Dream’s eyes on him before he takes over. 

“Yeah, it’s an older car but it’s been making weird noises for the last few hours, but it started like, bumping, and feeling weird and the noises got worse, and then smoke started coming from the tailpipe,” Dream explains better. 

“Right, ok. Well, let me get it into the shop and take a look. There’s a rest area inside you can wait in, should only take a few minutes to check it out.”

“Great, thank you,” Dream nods, handing the man the keys. 

“I’m Nick, by the way,” The guy sticks his hand out for Dream to shake. 

Of course, his name is Nick. George wants to text Sapnap about it, so they can laugh, tease that they’re replacing him with the new Nick, the better Nick. He’s not sure it would have the same punchline now. 

He brushes off the thought and smiles politely when Nick reaches out to shake his hand too. 

“Small hands,” Nick laughs about George’s grip. 

“What?” George laughs awkwardly back, the tips of his ears turning red, “My hands aren’t small, maybe yours are just freakishly big.”

“You think so?” Nick chuckles, pulling his hand back to hold it up, spreading his fingers out. He has nice hands, calloused and strong, and George feels weird again. 

“Yes. You should like, wash them or something, they’re covered in oil,” He points out stupidly, unsure of what else to say. He thinks maybe that was the wrong thing, but he’d rather not think about it. Dream’s gaze feels hot on him. 

Nick smiles at him, laughter etched into the corners of his eyes, “Alright, well y’all can head inside and give your information to Cal at the front desk, and I’ll take a look at this.”

“Thanks again,” Dream nods curtly and moves to walk with George into the building with a hand at the small of his back. It startles George a little, the intimate touch, but he lets Dream guide him anyway. 

“I’m gonna give the guy our info, you can go sit down,” Dream drops his hand and leaves George standing awkwardly by the front door as he beelines to the front desk. 

He stands still for a minute, blinking and processing slowly what just happened before stumbling over to the small collection of chairs in the corner. 

He watches Dream leaning against the counter, giving the man his driver's license and insurance card, the details about the car. 

While Dream is still at the desk, George pulls his phone out to send another text to Sapnap. 

George: the car broke down. not sure how long it’ll take to fix but we might be here a while. 

George: can u at least say something. 

He feels anger bubble in his chest. 

The last 24 hours have been a whirlpool of emotions, of sadness and anger and anxiety and more anger and more sadness. He hates it. He hates feeling emotional unrest. 

He’s mad at Sapnap, furious. He’s mad at Dream too, less so, but still mad. He’s worried about them both more than anything. 

He stares at the screen for another minute before giving up and shoving his phone back into his pocket. 

He chews on the inside of his cheek until Dream finishes at the desk, walking over to slump down in the chair next to George with a sigh. 

“You ok?” George asks quietly, their shoulders bumping together. The contact feels nice, soothing.

“Fine,” Dream crosses his arms, keeping his eyes straight ahead. 

“I’m sorry I yelled in the car. I was just freaking out,” George offers an apology. 

“It’s fine, George.”

“Please don’t do that,” George asks, staring at the side of Dream’s face. 

Dream closes his eyes, sighing. They’re both exhausted, emotionally and physically, and he knows neither of them wants to keep fighting. Not with each other. 

“Sorry. You didn’t do anything. I’m just- I still just feel weird. I don’t know. Everything just feels off, and I didn’t like how that guy was talking to you, and it’s stupid, it’s whatever. I just feel weird.”

George blinks at him. 

“Were you jealous?” His face twists, and he almost has to hold back a laugh. 

“George,” Dream clicks his tongue. 

“Oh my God,” He can’t help the grin that breaks out, “You were jealous of the car guy.”

“I was not,” Dream’s nose darkens the way it does when he’s embarrassed. George wishes he could see the exact shade of pink. 

“You were! Oh my God, was it because he said my hands were small?” 

“That’s just, like- that’s so weird to say to someone!”

“You’ve said that to me before,” George points out.

“Ok, but like- but I know you. That dude just met you, that’s so insane to say to someone you just met!”

“It’s ok, Dream,” George sighs dramatically, “You’re jealous he got to touch my dainty little hands and you didn’t.”

He cringes at referring to his own hands as little and dainty when they aren’t, really, they’re average and proportionate to the rest of his body, but he knows something about his size always gets to Dream, so he uses it to his advantage. 

“You’re so stupid. I could touch your hands if I wanted,” Dream grumbles. 

“Oh, could you?” George teases, and it feels like the first time he’s been able to breathe since last night. It feels normal. It feels good. 

Dream rolls his eyes, and instead of dignifying George with an answer, reaches over to grab one of his hands. 

It makes George’s breath hitch gently, but he’s moved easily, allowing Dream to pull his right hand into his lap. 

“Your hand is small,” Dream says like a secret, cradling George’s hand between his two own. 

“Your hands are just giant,” George says back, his voice hushed too. 

Dream hums, but keeps his eyes down like he’s trying to memorize every line of George’s hand. 

“I wish I knew how to read palms.”

“What do you think mine would say?” George indulges him. 

“Mm,” Dream pretends to contemplate, using a finger to trace along one of the lines of George’s palm, “I think this one says you’re an idiot.”

“What? No, it doesn’t,” He goes to pull his hand away but Dream catches it, pulling it back towards him. 

“It does, George. And this one-” Dream traces a different line, “Says Dream is cooler and smarter than you.”

“You think my palms are talking about you?” George quirks an eyebrow at him. 

“Mhm. You’re so obsessed with me that it’s written into your body.”

“My body?” George chokes on a laugh at the wording, and Dream groans, swatting his hand away. 

“Shut up, you know-”

“‘scuse me?” Nick’s voice sounds from across the shop.

They both look up to see his head sticking out from the door. 

They both scramble to stand up, following Nick out the door and around to the garage.

“So,” Nick starts, rubbing his hands together, “It looks like transmission blew.”

“Ok. That’s not that bad right?”

Nick makes a face and reaches up to scratch at his stubbled jaw, “Well, if you have the part, it’s an easy fix. Issue is, this car is old and we don’t have the parts to rebuild a transmission for it.”

Anxiety swells back up in George’s chest. 

“So what does that mean?” He asks, a little panicked again. 

“Well, you have two options, really. We can order the part right now and expedite the shipping but it’s Friday, and that means the part won’t get here ‘til Monday at the earliest.”

“Fuck, Dream,” George turns to him.

“What’s the second option?” Dream asks, his face eerily calm. 

“Uh, the second option is you can sell this car to us for the rest of the parts and buy a new one,” Nick grimaces at them. 

“Are there even any dealerships around here? Not that we could even drive to one,” George gives a disbelieving laugh. 

“Can we talk about it for a minute?” Dream asks, rubbing his forehead in anxiety. 

“Yeah, ‘course.” Nick gives them a nod and steps aside, letting the two of them talk. 

“I mean, we can afford a new car,” George starts. 

“I don’t want to sell it.”

“I don’t want to be stuck in the middle of nowhere for three days,” George pushes back. 

“That car is like- it's important to me. I don’t want to sell it. I’d rather get it fixed and just wait.”

“And what? Just sit in this town forever and wait for the part to get here? And then drive fucking 10 hours to Oklahoma?”

Dream sighs, pressing his palms to his eyes. 

“No. No, we’ll get it fixed and drive home. It’s fine. We just- it’s not like we were going to Oklahoma for any reason. We can just- we’ll get it fixed and go home.”

“I don’t want to be stuck here for days,” George repeats again, “Dream, we don’t even have anything! We don’t have clothes or laptops or- or anything! What are we supposed to do?”

“We have our wallets. We passed a hotel on the way into town. I’m sure there’s some shops and stuff we can walk to, it’ll be fine. It’ll be like a vacation or something.”

George bites his tongue, realizing he’s not going to win this fight. He couldn’t, anyway. He can’t drive. It’s Dream’s car, Dream’s ultimate decision. 

“Fuck,” He sighs, “Fine. Fine.”

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and his heart lurches, “Go tell the guy,” He points Dream away and sneaks around to the front of the building. 

“Hello?” He answers the phone in a hushed voice. 

“What the fuck do you mean the car broke down?” Sapnap’s voice sounds hoarse on the other end of the line, crackly from the bad reception. 

“The fucking- the guy said the fucking transmission broke, or something.”

“I fucking told Dream to have that damn car looked at- I’ve been telling him for months he can’t just start driving it again, are you fucking-”

“Shut up, we are not fucking doing this now. Just shut up,” George snaps. Anger bubbles in his stomach again. 

“Fine, whatever. So, what? They’re fixing it?”

“They don’t have the right part, they have to order it. He said it probably won’t be here until Monday.”

“Monday?” Sapnap asks, his voice emotionless. 

“Yeah. We just have to stay here until the part gets in and they fix the car.”

Sapnap is silent for a long minute, and George hates that he can’t tell what he’s thinking. He doesn’t know if he’s glad or upset they’ll be gone for days, if he wants them to come back or stay away. He’s not sure how to ask. 

“Ok,” Sapnap says eventually. 

“Ok?” George scoffs, “Really? Ok? That’s it?”

“What do you fucking want me to say, George?”

“I dunno, you could try a fucking apology or at least act like you care we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere!”

“I don’t want to do this right now,” Sapnap’s voice is sharp, biting. 

George can’t help but let out a sharp laugh, “Right, ok. I’m so fucking sorry to inconvenience you by asking for an apology for a fight you started. Not like you upset Dream so much he started driving to another fucking state.”

“I started? Are you fucking-"

“Yes, you started!” George cuts him off, “You literally started the whole thing! You were being a fucking dick!”

“Right, and Dream just had no blame, because Dream has never done anything wrong, right? That’s why you always chose his fucking side, huh? Too busy mooning over everything he says to realize sometimes he’s in the wrong too. You both fucking are.”

“Fuck you,” George spits, venomous, “You’re such a fucking asshole. Whatever, you obviously don’t care so neither do I. I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

He hangs up the phone before Sapnap can get another word in, seething and angry down to the core of his body. 

His hands shake as he shoves his phone back into his pocket, going back around to find Dream. 

He finds him at the front desk, paying for the part to be ordered and leaving his contact information with Nick. He slides up to Dream’s side, pressing their shoulders together and he tries to calm his breathing. 

“Hey,” Dream says lowly, voice rumbling. He seems exhausted and George doesn’t blame him. 

“What do we do after this?” He avoids telling Dream about his conversation with Sapnap for now. He’ll tell him later when he doesn’t feel like he’s so angry he could burst. 

“We passed that hotel on the drive in, it wasn’t that far. We’ll just walk there and get a room, I guess.”

George hums and closes his eyes, letting his head fall against Dream’s shoulder. There’s a headache blooming behind his eyes and he ignores the way he can feel Nick looking at them. His head hurts too bad for him to care. 

“Ok,” He murmurs. He can feel tears building behind his eyes, adding to the pressure in his skull and he wants to sob when he feels Dream brush a hand down his back, rubbing up and down gently. 

He feels stupid. He should be the one comforting Dream, not the other way around. 

He listens as Dream finishes paying, shaking Nick’s hand and wrapping everything up. 

“I’ll text y’all soon as the part’s in,” Nick tells him. 

George blinks his eyes back open and stands up straight, “Thanks.”

“Thanks again, man,” Dream sticks his hand out to shake Nick’s, smiling at him one last time before turning to guide George out of the shop and onto the street. 

It’s quiet between them as they start their walk along the main road, following the instructions on Dream’s phone to the hotel. 

“What time is it?” George asks. 

“Almost 6. We should probably try to find some food after we check in.”

“Dream,” George sighs. The air is stifling outside, Mississippi air thick and suffocating. The only clothes he has are the ones he has on, a loose t-shirt and shorts. He’s glad he was wearing shorts instead of sweatpants when they left. 

“George,” Dream sighs back. 

“What are we gonna do?” He can hear the sadness in his voice and he hopes Dream can’t. 

“We’re gonna get a hotel-”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Dream sighs again, “I don’t know. I don’t want to talk to him right now, George.”

“I talked to him on the phone earlier, when I was outside,” George tells him as the hotel comes into view. 

Dream is quiet for a minute. 

“And?”

“And he was a fucking dick, I dunno. He’s just angry still, I guess. Which is bullshit. But he still is. It wasn’t even a good conversation, I just- I told him we’re stuck here and he didn’t even care. We just screamed at each other until I hung up.”

“Is that why you got so sad?”

“I’m not sad,” George denies. 

“You are a little. It’s ok, though. Here,” Dream holds the front door to the hotel open, letting George slip inside first. 

The air conditioning feels good on his skin, and he didn’t realize how dirty he felt until now. He wants to take a shower and sleep for a week. 

“I’ll go get us a room,” Dream slides a gentle hand along his shoulder and goes to talk to the woman at the front desk.

His shoulders slump as he walks up, and George wants to pull him back, to pull him into his arms and just hold their bodies together. He wants to press his hands to Dream’s body and soothe him, get rid of all the hurt and ache inside him. 

He remembers the way Dream had walked out of the house last night, how small he’d looked. Wounded, like a wild animal. 

It only takes a few minutes before Dream is walking back to him, two room keys in his hand. 

“One room, double beds,” Dream hands him a key card. 

George hums and takes it from him, shoving the key in his pocket, “What now?”

“Food? I asked the front desk lady and there’s some restaurants around here and a CVS around the corner for, like, chargers and stuff.”

The thought of moving around sounds exhausting, even sitting down in a loud restaurant to eat sounds like too much. 

“Can we just go to the CVS and get snacks or something?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

The CVS is only a five minute walk. They pick up various snacks, chips and pretzels, and the shark gummies George likes. They get phone chargers too, a few bottles of water and two t-shirts supporting the local high school football team because they don’t have any other clothes. Dream buys shampoo and conditioner too, citing a hatred of the artificial floral scents hotels use. 

It’s mostly silent between them the whole trip and by the time they get to the hotel room, George feels ready to collapse. 

“I want to shower,” He announces as Dream unlocks the room. 

“You can go first,” Dream pushes the heavy door open and holds it for George. 

“Thanks,” He steps into the room, looking around. It’s small, with the two beds taking up most of it. 

The door shuts loudly behind Dream and they both startle at the sudden noise. 

“Hey,” George finds himself saying as he stares at Dream. His chest aches. 

“You ok?” Dream tilts his head, his eyes dark and tired. 

George doesn’t answer, just listening to his own breathing for a moment before he steps forward to wrap his arms around Dream’s middle. 

“Yeah,” He answers. He can hear Dream’s heart beating, can feel his warm skin through his crewneck. Strong arms wrap around his shoulders and keep him pulled close. 

Even after a day of driving and anxiety, Dream smells like detergent and home. 

“George,” Dream murmurs, pressing his cheek to the top of George’s head. 

“We’re gonna be fine,” George tells him, tells himself too. 

“We are,” Dream agrees, “Now go shower, you stink.”

“Shut up,” George laughs softly, pulling back, “You smell worse. You reek.”

Dream just swats at him as he moves to the bathroom. 

The water feels good on his skin. He closes his eyes and lets the warmth run over him, soaking his hair and dripping over his eyes. 

It’s not as nice as his shower at home, but it feels more cleansing somehow. He scrubs the dirt of the past day off his skin with hotel body wash and watches the suds run down his legs into the drain. 

It soothes the ache in his shoulders, the soreness in his legs from sitting for so long. 

He thinks of Dream as he washes his hair, thinks a little about Sapnap, but stops himself before he starts to get angry again. 

He hates this, he thinks for the millionth time in the last 24 hours. He can’t stop thinking it. He feels a little like a child, petulant and petty. 

The shampoo smells like fake flowers, and he wishes he’d used the shampoo Dream bought at the drugstore as he washes it out. He’s always liked the way Dream smells. 

He wants to press himself against Dream’s chest again and just smell him. He thinks Dream would let him, and that’s kind of the worst part. Dream would let him do anything, even if it was weird or he didn’t quite get why. 

He’d let George cling onto the sturdy frame of him and smell him until he was dizzy with the scent. He finishes rinsing out his hair and shuts the water off, wrapping a towel around his chest and shuffling out of the shower. 

His dirty clothes are in a pile by the door and he pulls his boxers back on and drops the towel by the sink before stepping out of the room, shivering at the temperature difference. 

Dream looks up from where he’s laying on one of the beds and makes a noise, a clicking in the back of his throat, and George suddenly realizes he’s half naked. He can feel Dream’s eyes all over his body, a searing heat against the freezing cold of the room. 

“Where did we put those shirts?” He breathes, folding in on himself. 

“Uh, on the coffee table,” Dream blinks at him, “I’m gonna- I’m gonna go shower.”

George pulls the oversized t-shirt on as Dream slips into the bathroom. 

He’s half asleep when Dream leaves the bathroom, curled up under his own covers, just the top of his head peeking out among a mountain of white sheets and fluffy pillows. 

“You awake?” Dream whispers, and George opens his bleary eyes. 

“Dream,” The word sticks to his mouth. 

He looks like a vision standing in the low light of the hotel room, clad in just his boxers like George had been earlier. His chest is so nice it makes George want to cry, exhaustion making him delirious. 

“Sorry,” Dream apologizes for waking him up, reaching up to rub at his wet hair with his towel. George gets a flash of a strong bicep, the damp curl of his armpit hair. He still looks sad, and George can feel his heart crack a little. 

“Come ‘ere,” George mumbles, unable to contain himself. 

“What?”

“Come here,” George sighs, “Don’t be annoying.”

Dream blinks at him, and George wishes he could press his thumbs to the bags under Dream’s eyes and rub them away. 

“Ok,” Dream tosses the towel aside and hesitates for a minute like he’s unsure. 

“Turn the light off, too,” George groans, closing his eyes. 

He hears Dream moving around, the flick of the light as it turns off. 

When he approaches the bed, George pushes the covers down to let Dream crawl in next to him. 

They don’t touch, but George can feel Dream beside him, can hear the steady sound of his breathing. 

“It’s gonna be fine,” He whispers, “Tomorrow will be better.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“I’m scared he hates me,” Dream suddenly confesses, and in the dark of the room it feels too big. 

“He doesn’t,” George resists the urge to reach out for Dream’s body. 

“He wouldn’t- if he didn’t mean any of it he wouldn’t have said it.”

“You know that’s not true. He was just- he was mad. We were all mad, people say shit they don’t mean when they’re angry all the time.”

“But what if-”

“Dream,” George sighs, “If he hated living in Florida, he wouldn’t be here. He moved first. He wouldn’t be here if he hated it. If he hated you, or- or us. He was just mad, and that tweet was fucking dumb, and now he’s just being too stubborn to say he’s sorry,” He tries to believe it as he says it. 

“Yeah,” Dream says, but George can hear the hesitation in his voice. 

“Stop worrying about it. You can worry tomorrow. Go to sleep,” George reaches out and finds Dream’s hand in the dark, brushing their fingers together.

Dream takes a deep, slow breath, “Goodnight, George.”

“Goodnight, Dream.”

Mississippi is hot. 

Even in the morning, it's nearly 80 degrees and George can feel the sweat on his upper lip already. 

They find breakfast at a small restaurant around the corner, sitting at a little round table outside with a big umbrella keeping them in the shade. 

“How are you drinking lemonade at 10 am?” Dream wrinkles his nose as George sips from his glass. 

“How are you so dumb at 10 am?” 

It’s not a good comeback, not even funny, really, but the world still feels too heavy and George can’t find it in himself to muster up his usual energy. 

The reality of everything has been setting in since he woke up, his nose nearly pressed to Dream’s in a hotel bed in the middle of nowhere. 

Dream looks better this morning, at least. 

“What do you want to do today?” Dream asks, changing the subject. 

“What even is there to do?” George wrinkles his nose, looking around. 

The streets are mostly empty, only a few people drifting in and out of the nearby buildings. 

He looks back to Dream who offers him an apologetic face, and goes back to picking at his breakfast sandwich. 

There’s a sullenness between them, as much as they’re both trying to pretend there isn’t. 

George sips his lemonade and eats his scrambled eggs, looking up when their waitress, Anna, he remembers, approaches. She refills Dream’s water, asking if there’s anything else she can do for them. 

“Actually,” Dream starts, and George turns towards him, “We’re stuck in town for a few days and we were wondering what there is to do around here.”

“Oh!” She perks up, “Well. There isn’t much, honestly. But Tupelo isn’t far of a drive, and there’s a lot more to do there!”

“Is there any way to get to Tupelo that isn’t a car? Our’s is- uh, out of commission.”

“There’s a bus every half hour you could catch,” She answers kindly. 

She’s pretty, George thinks abstractly as she talks to Dream. He wonders if Dream thinks so too. 

Dream says something he doesn’t catch, but he watches the way Anna smiles and leans forward as she laughs, her hand coming to touch his shoulder. He watches them talk, their words turning to static in his ears as he observes their back-and-forth. It stirs something funny in the pit of his stomach.

“What?” He interrupts, painfully aware of how sudden and irritated he sounds. 

Dream’s brow furrows, “What?”

Anna startles, her eyes going a little wide. 

“Are we done?” George snaps, “She obviously has nothing good to suggest.”

Dream’s mouth turns down at the corner, and George holds back the urge to apologize in his throat. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“One check or two?” Anna asks, looking as suddenly uncomfortable as George feels. He holds back an apology to her as well. 

“One,” Dream answers, an apologetic smile on his face. 

She nods and turns back to get their check. 

“What was that?”

“What was what?” George plays dumb.  

“George,” Dream says his name like a scolding mother and then closes his eyes. Neither of them are in the mood for this game. 

“Sorry. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” 

“No. Sorry,” George apologizes again. 

Dream lets out a long breath, exhausted. 

“Ok,” He doesn’t try to argue further, “Let’s just pay, and then we can go back to the room or something. I’ll look into getting a bus to Tupelo if you want.”

George looks down at his plate, pushing his eggs around. 

“Sure.”

The bus leaves at 11:30. 

Most of the seats are empty, and Dream sits next to George with one seat between them. 

They don’t really talk. 

George rests his head against the window and watches the landscape roll by, rolling green hills and wildflowers, a painfully blue sky. He wishes he were in the mood to enjoy it. Under different circumstances, he thinks he’d love it here.

“Look,” George taps Dream’s shoulder as they pass a highway sign, “20 miles.”

“Cool,” Dream hums, and looks back down at his phone. 

George blinks at him, and for a moment, he thinks he can hear a crack in his chest. 

And then he just feels angry again. Mostly at himself this time, still a lot at Sapnap. A little at Dream. 

He lets his head fall back against the window and it’s just this side of painful, but he thinks maybe he deserves it. 

He hates being on this fucking bus. He hates how far away Dream is. He hates how Sapnap overreacted and how everything blew the fuck up afterward. 

He closes his eyes and waits for the bus to stop. 

“What should we do?” George asks as they step off the bus. 

“Dunno. What do you wanna do?” Dream takes the lead towards the nearest building, letting George trail behind him. 

“I don’t know, I barely even know where we are.”

Dream stops walking, turning to George. 

He feels ashamed immediately. 

“Just-”

“Are you mad at me?” George interrupts. 

Dream blinks at him, “Yeah.”

George wants to cry, “Ok. Um,” He bites the inside of his cheek, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I was weird at breakfast. I didn’t mean to like, be a dick, or whatever.”

Dream looks at him like he’s contemplating. He seems tired again like he did yesterday. 

Finally, he sighs, closing his eyes for a second. 

“I know. Sorry, I know. It’s not-” Dream sighs, opening his eyes again, “It’s just been a weird few days. I’m sorry, too.”

George twists his mouth, “Yeah.”

“C’mere,” Dream gestures with his arm, and George steps closer to him as he pulls out his phone, “We can look at what there is to do here.”

George nods and crowds in close, peering over at Dream’s phone while he googles things to do in Tupelo. 

“Elvis’ birthplace,” George points out from the top of the list. 

“Do you even know anything about Elvis?”

“Ok, no, but isn’t the point of a museum to learn things?”

“You wanna learn about Elvis?”

“Oh my God, stop being- ugh, we have to do something, what else would we do?”

“Uh,” Dream scrolls through the list, “The zoo?”

“The zoo?”

“I dunno, George,” Dream sighs, “There’s a mall too?”

“I wouldn’t mind the mall,” George relents, “It’s too hot for the zoo. And we should probably buy clothes so we aren’t wearing the same thing for days.”

Dream hums and pulls up walking directions to the mall, starting them on their path, “Like you don’t wear the same thing for days anyway.”

“I only wear the same thing when I’m not doing anything, so it’s like the clothes barely get dirty,” He explains, “We’ve been, like, driving and sweating and traveling in these clothes. It’s different.”

“You never sweat normally?” Dream laughs, and George rolls his eyes. 

They continue to bicker, fond arguments over dumb things as they walk to the mall, the heat nearly unbearable. George complains and Dream laughs, and the sound is so sweet George wishes he could bottle it up. 

He wonders briefly as they’re walking what Sapnap is doing, if he’s thinking about them, if he even cares. He thinks about texting him again but remembers their phone call yesterday and thinks better of it. 

“-and it was just really dumb, I dunno.”

George tunes back into the story Dream is telling, “It’s not dumb,” George frowns, “I hate when you do that.”

“Do what?”

George shrugs, “You say how you feel about something and then say it’s dumb, it’s not dumb. You’re only dumb for saying it is.”

“That’s- that isn’t even true.”

“It literally is, but whatever. Look,” George points ahead as the mall comes into view. 

It takes another 15 minutes to walk up the street and across the giant parking lot, but they finally make it to the entrance. 

George sighs dramatically as freezing air washes over him, the mall aircon freezing his skin in the most perfect way. 

“Holy fuck, they have Build-A-Bear,” Dream nudges George’s shoulder, his eyes big and excited. 

“Ok?” George scrunches his nose, “They have one at the mall at home, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but it’s more exciting here,” Dream starts making his way to the big blue doorframe of the store, “It’s like- it’s more special because we’re out of town.”

“Are we actually going to make bears?” George laughs, following Dream to the long line of empty bears and stuffed animals. 

“Yeah, c’mon, it’ll be fun. A little souvenir for when we go home,” Dream shrugs, “Look at these! They’re us!”

He drags George to the middle of the selection, pointing out a tawny blonde colored bear with curly fur and a dark chocolate-colored one. 

“Wait, that is kind of epic actually,” George pulls out the empty body of the brown bear, stroking its soft fur, “Should we make ourselves?” 

“We should make each other,” Dream suggests, taking the brown bear from George and giving George the curly blonde one. 

“You’re such an idiot,” George rolls his eyes but holds onto the bear. 

They drift along the aisle, pointing out different bears that remind them of their friends. There’s a lavender axolotl that reminds him of Sylvee, and a bee-themed bear that reminds him of Punz. 

George stops suddenly in front of a bin, nearly making Dream run into him. 

“What is that one?” Dream says from behind him, peering down into the bin. 

“It’s a panda,” George comments in a small voice, “Should we-” He cuts himself off. 

“We should make it for him. He’ll be jealous if we come back with bears and he doesn’t get one.” Dream decides, pulling an unstuffed panda from the bin. 

“Yeah,” George echoes as they move over to the next step. He wonders if he’d even care at all. 

“Hi!” Dream’s voice is bright as they approach the man working the stuffing machine. 

“Hey, welcome to Build-A-Bear! Stuffing three bears today?” He smiles, looking at the empty bears in their hands. 

Dream nods, and they listen as the man explains the process and how the stuffing goes. 

“Now, each bear gets a heart, so you can pick yours out,” He holds out a bowl of small red hearts, letting them each choose one. George picks a red and white gingham heart for Dream, and Dream picks an all red heart for George. They settle on an all red for Sapnap’s too. 

“Would you like to put in a custom sound for your bears?” The man asks before he starts stuffing. 

Dream looks at George, “Should we? We can record them for each other.”

It makes George’s heart thump a little funny, but he agrees anyway. 

“Yeah,” Dream turns back to the man, “Can we just do two custom ones?”

“Sure!” He explains to them how to record their messages, and then they each take to separate corners of the store to record. 

He feels nervous for some reason as he thinks about what to say, watching Dream from across the store as he holds the recorder to his mouth, saying something George can’t hear yet. 

He thinks for another minute, panicking when he realizes Dream is already done. He thinks of something dumb quickly, pressing the record button and holding the device close as he talks. 

“Love you, idiot.” 

It’s short, and a little dumb, and his cheeks burn awkwardly as he says it, but it’s over now. He holds the small device in both hands and meets back up with Dream by the stuffing machine. 

“Can we- what if we don’t listen to them until later,” George suggests, handing his recording device to the worker as he begins stuffing the curly blonde bear. He’d filled the panda while they were recording their messages. 

“Aw, George,” Dream teases, but turns genuinely quickly, “We can listen to them later.”

George nods and ducks his head, still a little embarrassed. The man finishes stuffing the bear and laces up the back, handing him back to George before filling Dream’s bear. 

It takes another few minutes, but then their bears are stuffed and they’re filling out the birth certificates, naming their bears after each other. 

“They’re like our babies,” Dream says, holding the dark brown bear against his chest. 

“Dream and George Jr,” George laughs as they move to the collection of bear clothes and accessories. 

“Would you ever name your kid after yourself?” Dream asks, starting to go through a rack of little bear shirts. 

“I don’t think so. I’ve never gotten the people who name their kids after themselves, I dunno. Just not for me, I think.” 

“Do you want kids at all, though?” Dream pulls a little blue shirt from the rack. 

“Uh,” George laughs a little awkwardly, pulling a green hoodie from a different rack, “I dunno. Maybe. Doesn’t really matter though, even if I did want kids I don’t have anyone to have them with,” He tried to laugh to distract from the uncomfortable truth of it. He resists the urge to say he wouldn’t mind having kids if Dream was the one he had them with. 

Dream hums, a quiet acknowledgment, “I want them. I think- I’d like to be a dad. I dunno, I don’t have anyone to have kids with either, but. It would be nice one day.”

George turns and looks at him for a minute, “You’ll be a really good dad,” He tells him softly. 

“Yeah?” Dream laughs softly, and it sounds a little choked up, “I hope so.” 

George ducks his head, the sudden emotion and tension between them flushing his cheeks, “Look,” He changes the subject and drags Dream over to the shoes. They each pick out a pair, green sneakers for the Dream bear and red for the George bear. 

They end up picking out a white hoodie and black shoes with little flames for the Sapnap bear. 

“Should we send him a picture?” George wonders out loud as they’re checking out, staring at the bear as it sits on the counter. 

“Have you talked to him at all since yesterday?” 

George sighs, “No. I thought about texting him on the bus, but. I dunno if he wants to hear from me.”

“Maybe send it to him anyway,” Dream looks hesitant even as he says it.

“Maybe you should send it to him,” George suggests, “You haven’t talked to him since- since it all, right?” 

“Right,” Dream chews on his lip, “Ok.”

He takes a quick picture and then lets the cashier box up the panda, putting the other two bears in one box. 

“Send it,” George nudges him as they take the boxes and exit the store. 

Dream breathes out heavily, pulling open his messages and texting Sapnap the picture. He looks sad, his eyes a little shiny as he stares at his phone, and George wants to scream.

“C’mon, where do we go now?” He asks, pulling Dream away from his phone and back into the moment. It’s all he can do for now, he thinks. 

“Mm, maybe we should just walk a bit? Are you hungry?”

They walk around the mall for a while more, grabbing food and drifting in and out of random stores, window shopping, and buying a few plain t-shirts, a pair of jeans for Dream, and another pair of shorts for George.

At some point, Dream drags him into Spencer’s, “Look,” Dream says, pointing at one of the crude shirts on the wall, “You should get that one.”

George’s face flushes reading the shirt, world’s biggest micropenis, it reads across the chest. 

“You’re such an idiot, you should get that one if anything,” He rolls his eyes. 

“Nah, if anything I should get that one,” He points to a different shirt.

“Big dick is back in town?” George snorts, reading the shirt. 

Dream just laughs, his eyes scrunched and his head tipped back, and George thinks he looks so beautiful. 

They walk around the store a little more, and George freezes when they reach the back of the shop. 

“They sell sex toys here?” He whispers loudly to Dream, looking at a giant wall of dildos and vibrators, “This is, like, a public mall, how can they sell sex toys?”

“Yeah, that’s like, the whole Spencer's thing.”

“Look, they made a fleshlight just for you,” George laughs, scanning the wall and pointing out a fleshlight shaped like a football with a plastic mold of an asshole at one end. 

“What the fuck?” Dream wrinkles his whole face in confusion and disgust, “Who would buy this?”

“You, probably.”

“I would not, if I bought a fleshlight I’d just get a normal one, why would they make it a football?”

“I dare you to buy it,” George says, laughing. He carefully keeps his mind on the absurdity of it, and not the sudden thoughts of Dream using a fleshlight. 

“George,” Dream says it like a scold, “I am not buying this, what if someone, like, recognizes us.”

“I can see the headlines now, Minecraft Youtuber superstar Dream buys football fleshlight,” George says sarcastically. 

“Shut up, you know people would never fucking get over it.”

“You’re scared to buy it, aren’t you?” George provokes, “Poor Dreamie, scared to buy a wittle sex toy,” He pouts dramatically. 

“There’s no way you’re actually making fun of me for not buying a sex toy.”

George gives him a challenging hum. 

Dream narrows his eyes, “Ok, fine. But I get to pick out something that you have to buy.”

“What?” George flushes, “No, that’s- no shot.”

“Then I’m not buying this,” Dream goes to put the toy back. 

“We can’t just come home from fucking- Mississippi with a bunch of stuffed bears and sex toys, Dream,” He tries to argue. 

“Oh, so it would be fine to go home with just one?”

“That’s not-”

“Here,” Dream steps up to the wall of sex toys, looking over them all for a minute before pulling a small box from the wall, “I’ll buy the fucking football fleshlight if you get this one.”

George feels his face burning as he takes the box. It’s a vibrating butt plug, bright pink and plastic. 

“Dream,” His cheeks burn, and he can feel the blush creeping down his neck. 

“C’mon, are we getting them or not?” Dream starts walking towards the checkout. 

“This is like- Oh my God, Dream, wait-” George stumbles after him. 

He snaps his mouth shut as he watches Dream place the box on the checkout counter, fishing out his credit card. 

The cashier checks Dream out, looking bored and uninterested and like she has no clue who they are, and George is glad for it. She bags the toy, and Dream thanks her as he turns to George. 

He cocks an eyebrow like he’s daring George, and George has no choice but to approach the counter with sweaty hands. 

“Is this all?” The cashier asks like she doesn’t even care. 

“Yes,” George’s ears burn, and he pulls out his own credit card. 

She scans the box and shoves it into a bag, merciful as she checks him out quickly, sending them both on their way with a tired smile. 

“I fucking hate you,” George declares as they step out of the store. 

“No, you don’t,” Dream grins, “We do probably need to leave though, so we don’t miss the bus.”

“Ugh,” George groans, thinking about the walk back to the bus stop. 

“C’mon,” Dream throws his arm around George’s shoulder, pulling their bodies together like this is something they always do. 

George’s whole body feels overly warm as he leans into the touch, always grateful for whatever Dream gives him. 

They make their way back through the mall, grimacing when the heat of the sun hits their skin again. 

Dream’s phone buzzes a few minutes into their walk, and George mourns the loss of his touch when he removes his arm to check it. 

“Is everything ok?” George asks, concern turning in his chest as he watches Dream’s face fall. 

“Uh, yeah. I dunno. Um, Sapnap texted back. He asked if I can call him when I get a chance.”

The world seems to go still for a moment. He’d almost forgotten about the fight, forgotten why they were stranded here in the first place. 

“Maybe you should wait until we’re back at the hotel,” George suggests, swallowing around a lump in his throat. 

“Yeah,” Dream suddenly looks like he wants to cry. He looks so small again like he had yesterday. 

George twists his mouth before reaching out, grabbing Dream’s hand, and tangling their fingers together. Dream looks at him with sad eyes, words unspoken between them as George leads them down the street to the bus stop. 

It’s just past dark when the bus pulls up to their stop. 

Dream had slept most of the drive, his head resting on George’s shoulder. He’s a comforting weight against George’s side, a reminder that he’s here and he’s real. 

They don’t talk as they get off, making their way back to the hotel in anticipation of calling Sapnap. 

Dream sits on the corner of the bed once they’re back in the room, his hands fidgeting nervously. 

“You can always tell him you can’t call until the morning,” George suggests, hovering around Dream. 

He doesn’t know how to comfort him in the right way. He feels useless. 

“No, it’s-” Dream takes a deep breath, “I need to talk to him. I want to.”

“Ok. I can- Do you want me to be here? I can go-”

“Stay, please. I’ll let you know if I want to talk to him alone.”

George nods and sits next to Dream as he calls Sapnap, the phone pressed to his ear. 

“Hey,” Dream’s voice cracks after a minute, and George figures Sapnap has answered. 

He can’t hear what Sapnap is saying, and he resists the urge to ask Dream to put it on speakerphone. 

Dream’s eyes go glassy immediately. 

“Yeah,” Dream’s voice sticks to his throat, “Ok. Um. Do you-” 

Sapnap says something George can’t hear. 

“Right,” Dream shudders, “Ok. Is there- Can I do anything?” Dream’s bottom lip trembles, his nose turning red in a way it only does when he’s about to sob. 

George wants to cry. 

“No, it’s- I understand. Can I just-” He sighs, exhausted, “Nick, can you just let me fucking say something?” He doesn’t sound angry, he just sounds tired, and George’s heart shatters. 

“I just- I want to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to escalate like that, and I just- I said a lot of shitty things, and we both did, but I want you to know I didn’t mean any of it, I really didn’t. I love you, dude. You’re my brother, and I don’t-” His voice breaks, “I don’t want you to hate me.” Tears start dripping down Dream’s cheeks. 

Sapnap says another thing George can’t hear, but Dream sniffles and nods, his mouth twisting into a devastating smile. 

“Yeah. It’s- yeah. No, I know. I know. I- yeah. We’ll talk later. Love you.”

He brings the phone back down from his ear as the call ends. 

George watches him for a minute, terrified of the blank look on Dream’s face, and then suddenly he breaks. 

He sucks in a sharp breath as Dream bursts into tears, sobs wracking his body as he falls into George. 

He wraps his arms around Dream instantly, holding him the best he can. He feels so big and so small at the same time, and George shakes with him. He pets his back, feels his warm skin and the way his tears soak George’s shirt. 

“It’s ok,” George soothes him, stroking his hair gently, “You’re ok.”

It takes a few minutes for Dream to calm down but eventually, he does, pulling back with bloodshot eyes and a splotchy face. 

“Do you wanna tell me what he said?” He asks like he’s reaching out to a wounded animal. He brushes sweat-damp curls out of Dream’s eyes. 

“He, uh,” Dream takes a shuddering breath, “He thinks he’s gonna move out.”

His hand pauses on the side of Dream’s face. For a brief second, he thinks the world has ended. 

“What? No, he doesn’t. He’s not doing that. What?” He swears he can feel the earth-shattering under his feet, “Dream, he’s not doing that.”

“He, uh, he said he’s gonna stay somewhere else for a while. Not sure how long. Not- not forever, probably. Just, a while.”

George shakes his head, “No. No, he’s not doing that. He’s not-” he goes to pull out his phone but Dream stops him, big hands encompassing his wrists. 

“Just leave it. It’s not- maybe you can talk to him tomorrow.” 

“Dream,” There’s nothing else to say. 

Dream looks back up at him, and George wants more than anything to fix this. 

They can’t just sit here, George decides looking at Dream’s face, the sadness etched into every crease of it. 

“We should shower,” He suggests after a long minute. 

“We- what?” 

“It’s- we’re all gross. And like, emotional, and sad. We should shower, you always shower when you’re sad.”

“Both of us?” 

George’s heart beats wildly, and he nods. He wants Dream’s skin under his hands. He thinks Dream wants it too, maybe needs it, at least right now. 

“Yeah. Come on, lemme wash your hair.”

He stands from the bed and waits until Dream does too, following him into the small bathroom. 

It’s quiet as he starts the water, feeling the temperature change under his hand. 

He shakes as he peels off his shirt, turning to face Dream. 

He looks almost lost, staring at George and then up at the ceiling, eyes unsure of where to look. 

“Let me,” George breathes, voice trembling as he reaches out to touch the hem of Dream’s shirt. 

Dream nods, lifting his arms and allowing George to undress him with deft hands. 

He tosses his shirt into a pile along with his own, peeling off their shorts next, and letting Dream take off his boxers while he removes his own. He’s careful to keep his eyes above Dream’s waist as they step under the warm spray. 

Dream sighs under the water, closing his eyes and George thinks he looks beautiful as the water soaks him. 

He can count each eyelash like this, every freckle dotted under his eyes, every tired crease of skin. 

He takes the opportunity to look, to memorize Dream’s body like this because he’s convinced he’ll never get it again. 

His chest is so strong, his shoulders broad and bare even when he’s a little slumped forward like this. There’s a smattering of hair that covers his pecs and George wants to feel it all under his hands. 

Nervous eyes drift downward, careful as they seek over Dream’s skin, his soft belly and the hair that covers it, the hair that keeps trailing down and growing thicker, curlier. He swallows around the lump in his throat, his own chest heaving. 

“You gonna wash my hair?” Dream’s voice breaks through the sound of running water and George’s eyes snap up, meeting Dream’s. 

“Do you want me to?” He sounds breathless, but he doesn’t have the heart to be embarrassed over it. 

“You said you would,” Dream reminds him, his voice rough from crying earlier. 

“Pass me the shampoo, then.”

Dream turns to grab the bottle, and George admires the stretch of his back. He wants to press his fingers to the few blemishes on the back of his shoulders, map out every scar and pimple and mole. 

“You always buy the weirdest smells,” He notes when Dream turns back around to hand him the bottle he bought at CVS last night. 

“How is honey lavender a weird smell?” 

“I dunno,” George pours a dollop in his hands, “I just feel like I’d never get a smell like that,” He raises his hands up to start on Dream’s hair but hesitates. 

“What?” Dream tilts his head. 

“It’s like- I can’t get your whole head like this, it’s a weird angle. You’re too tall, what the hell,” George frowns. 

It makes Dream grin, “Actually? What should I do, then?”

“I dunno, like- like, bend down, or something.”

“Bend down?” 

George groans, embarrassed, “If you want me to wash your hair you have to bend down, I can’t reach like this.”

Dream’s smile fades and he nods, taking a deep breath before he’s moving to stand on his knees. George’s heart lurches, looking down at Dream on his knees in front of him, eyes wide and sparkling as they blink up at George. 

“Oh,” He whispers under his breath. He very carefully ignores the way Dream is eye level with his dick. 

“Gonna wash my hair now?” Dream asks, just as breathless as George feels. 

George nods, reaching his hands out until they land in damp curls. Dream makes a quiet noise as George begins scrubbing gentle circles as he works the shampoo through his hair. 

“Feels good,” Dream hums when George scrubs at the base of his skull. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Like a head massage. I’ve had a headache for like, two days now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” George frowns, lingering at the spot. 

“Dunno. Didn’t feel important,” Dream sighs, and then he’s tipping his head forward until his cheek is resting against George’s stomach. It takes everything George has not to gasp. He keeps his fingers steady as they move. 

“You could’ve at least gotten some ibuprofen the other day,” George cards his hand through Dream’s hair just to feel the strands against his fingers. 

Dream hums and George can feel the vibrations of it against his stomach. It almost makes him want to cry, but he bites back the urge. He hasn’t cried once in the last two days, and he’s not going to do it over this. 

“You need to rinse,” George tells him. 

“Do you think I could rinse it down here?”

“Uh,” George swallows, “Maybe? Try.”

And then Dream is tipping his head backward with closed eyes, dipping his head under the shower spray. 

George can’t help but stare at the long line of his throat, the way his Adam's apple juts out like this. He wants to press his mouth to it, mark the pale skin with dark colors and red splotches. He wants to sink his teeth in. 

He watches with bated breath as Dream raises his arms to scrub out the shampoo, takes in his strong biceps, the dark hair of his armpits. George wants in a way he’s not sure he’s ever felt before. 

When the last of the suds have gone down the drain, Dream looks back at him, blinking his eyes open and looking up at George. 

George imagines a scenario when Dream is on his knees looking at him like this for another reason, that he’d open his soft mouth and take George between pink lips. He’s briefly glad he’s too tired to get hard. 

“Get the conditioner,” George instructs him and Dream listens easily, grabbing the other bottle and pouring a good amount into George’s waiting hands. 

“Good,” He says without meaning to, and he can see the way Dream’s breath hitches. 

Dream closes his eyes again as George begins to work the conditioner through.

“Sleepy?”

“Mm. I could fall asleep like this,” Dream sighs, leaning into George’s hands. 

“Don’t fall asleep, there’s no way I’d be able to carry you out of here,” He rubs at the soft strands of Dream’s hair, combs through the wet curls with his fingers. 

“I’d just sleep on the floor.”

“Ugh, that would be awful,” George wrinkles his nose, “Sleeping naked on wet tile,” He fakes a gag and smiles when he sees the corner of Dream’s mouth turn up. 

“Eh, I’ve slept in worse places,” Dream hums when George rubs behind his ear. 

“You think sleeping in your garden would be worse than sleeping naked in a shower?” 

“Sleeping in the backyard sucked, sleeping indoors anywhere would beat sleeping outside.”

“But you’d be naked, at least outside you’d have your clothes on.”

“So?” Dream laughs, and then he tilts his head to look up at George and opens his eyes again. George’s hands freeze in his hair before they start moving on their own down to cup the sides of Dream’s face. 

“You look-” George begins to choke out, cutting himself off. 

“I look what?” Dream blinks at him. 

George shakes his head, words lost. He brushes a wet thumb under Dream’s eye. 

“I dunno. I forgot. You- rinse out the conditioner.”

Dream blinks at him again, the look on his face shifting to something unreadable. He nods, and then he stands up, the full height of him towering over George in the small space of the shower. 

“The water is getting cold,” He hisses, goosebumps breaking out over his body. 

“We should probably get out soon, then,” George feels breathless, dizzy almost. 

“You didn’t wash your hair or anything,” Dream grabs the body wash and scrubs himself down quickly, and George wishes he’d gotten the opportunity to do that too. 

“It’s fine, I washed it last night. Hand me the body wash.”

He switches places with Dream under the water and washes himself off, shivering once in the cold water. 

“You’re gonna die of hypothermia,” Dream says into his ear, suddenly right behind him. 

“It’s not even that cold,” He lies, heart beating wildly as Dream steps closer. 

“No?” And then Dream is plastered to his back, arms wrapping low around George’s waist. He shivers again. 

He can feel Dream’s soft cock pressed against his tailbone, his big hands resting low on his stomach. 

“Dream,” The word clicks in his throat, shaking and nervous. He feels like he’s lost control of reality, like the whole world is off its axis. 

“George,” He says back, low and rumbling. 

“What are you doing?” He dares to ask, watching as Dream’s hand slides lower, fingers catching on the hair below his navel, pausing just above his pubic bone. 

Dream makes a sad noise, almost a sigh. He sounds tired. 

“I’m glad you’re with me,” He says after a minute, and then, “Can I touch you?”

George gasps, air sucked into his lungs so harshly it hurts, but he needs it to. He nods and tries to keep his feet on the ground when Dream reaches down and takes his soft cock in his hand. 

“I’m too tired for- for anything,” He shakes through the words. 

“That’s ok,” Dream hums, just holding him gently, “I don’t wanna do anything anyway. Just wanna touch.”

George shudders, sucking in a shaky breath, “Ok.”

“You’re so small,” Dream tells him, their cheeks nearly pressed together. Dream’s hand looks comically large on him, his cock fitting perfectly into Dream’s palm. He imagines how different it would be if he was hard, if Dream was stroking him sweetly. 

He’s not going to cry. He isn’t. 

“Dream,” He breathes out. He has nothing else to say. 

“Ok,” Dream says, and then he kisses George’s shoulder, “Ok. We should get out now.”

He takes his hand away, and George stops the water. 

They end up in the same bed again. 

Dream falls asleep almost immediately, and George spends too long staring at him, memorizing the way the moonlight hits his face, the way he looks more at peace now than he has in two days. 

He’s finally almost asleep himself when his phone buzzes. He turns quickly and grabs it off the nightstand before it can wake Dream up, turning the brightness down. 

It’s a text from Sapnap, and just reading his name makes George feel a little numb. 

Sapnap: did dream talk to you

He bites the inside of his cheek, heat flaring in his chest. 

For a minute he debates not answering at all.

George: yes. 

Sapnap: does he hate me

George: would u even care if he did

He wants to roll his eyes, wants to scoff as badly as he wants to scream. 

Sapnap: obviously. 

Sapnap: i didnt mean any of that shit dude

George: then why are you trying to move out

George: you cant just scream that you hate it in florida and living with us and then say you dont mean it at the same time as you say youre moving out

Sapnap: im not fucking moving out i just want some space dude

George: sorry are you not getting enough space with me and dream stranded 6 states away

Sapnap: mississippi is only 3 states away dumbass

Sapnap: im not doing it because i hate living with you guys i fucking love living with you guys. i moved from fucking texas in a day just to live with dream

George: then why are you leaving

It takes a long minute before Sapnap answers again. 

Sapnap: i just think it would be better. not for long just a little. maybe a week or something 

George: i dont want you to 

George: dream doesnt want you to either we dont want you to go. we aren’t even going to be home until monday at the earliest, why isnt that enough time

Sapnap: i dont know george. 

Tears flood his eyes, his chest burning.

George: just dont leave. just wait until we come home 

George: please 

Sapnap: ill think about it

Sapnap: im going to bed. night dude

For a moment, it almost feels normal. And then he can’t hold back the tears anymore. 

They drip down his cheeks quietly, shaking as he holds back any noise. 

He tosses his phone back on the nightstand, turning over and curling himself against Dream. 

“George?” Dream’s voice is quiet, broken with sleep. 

“Sorry,” George sniffles, “I’m fine.”

Dream shifts, and then he’s opening his arms and pulling George to his chest. He can’t bring himself to tell Dream about his texts with Sapnap. 

Dream doesn’t say anything, sleepy in his comfort but his arms are strong and warm where they wrap around George. 

“We’ll be ok,” Dream murmurs, his cheek resting against the top of George’s head, “We’re ok.”

They wake up late Sunday morning. 

It’s well past 3 pm by the time George rolls out of bed, nearly 4 when Dream gets up. 

They find food at a little bar around the corner, shoved into a little booth with giant hamburgers and an overwhelming amount of fries. 

He waits until they’ve both eaten a little before telling Dream about Sapnap’s texts. 

“What did he say?” Dream picks at one of his fries. 

“I dunno, just kind of what he said on the phone to you, probably. He’s thinking about staying somewhere else for a while,” George shrugs, trying to be casual. 

Dream sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, “Did you- I dunno, did you say anything?”

“I asked him to just wait until we get back, but. I dunno if he will.”

“Right,” Dream clicks his tongue, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“He’s not mad at you, though. I know you- I know you thought he was, but he’s not.”

“Sure,” Dream gives a disbelieving laugh. 

“He doesn’t, Dream,” George frowns, “He’s just an idiot, and he was being a dick, and he’s still just being fucking- fucking stupid, I don’t know. But he doesn’t hate you.”

“Didn’t feel like that.”

George bites the inside of his cheek, thinks back to Thursday night and how loud the fight had been. 

The way Sapnap had gotten angry so quickly, a match to a fuse, and suddenly everything had blown up. 

“He loves you, Dream,” George says with finality, “We just need to get home, and- and figure it all out.”

“George,” Dream looks at him like even thinking about it is exhausting. 

“We’re gonna be ok, right?” George repeats the words they’ve both said over and over for the last few days, “We’re gonna be ok. All three of us, we’re gonna be ok.”

He hates having to be the mature one. It’s daunting sometimes, to have to be the serious one, the one in control. It makes him remember how young Dream is sometimes. 

“I dunno, George. He was so-” Dream shakes his head slightly, “He was so angry. And yesterday he was so sad. I don’t know where we go from here.”

“We go home. We go home, and we fix it, that’s where we go. Ok?”

Dream closes his eyes again, and George wants to reach out and cup his cheeks between his palms.

“Ok,” He gives in eventually, “Ok.”

They end up back in the hotel room, sitting on George’s bed and flitting between boring hotel TV and scrolling their phones, both of them ignoring the heaviness lingering over everything. 

It’s nearly 8 pm when Dream finally speaks up, putting his phone down and turning to George, “We should go out.”

“Out?” George looks at him, “Out where?”

“I dunno, we passed a few bars, we could just go get a drink or something. I don’t want to just keep sitting here staring at the ceiling fan, it’s making me feel like shit.”

George agrees easily, and a few minutes later they’re out on the sidewalk, following Dream’s phone directions to the bar down the street.  

It’s half empty when they walk in, the air thick and sticky with liquor, dark and overly smokey. 

“Booth or the bar?” Dream asks over the loud music. 

“Booth,” George eyes the few patrons sitting at the bar and decides he’d rather keep Dream to himself, knowing that after a drink or two Dream will start getting chatty. 

They take the one near the back, sliding into sticky plastic seats. 

“You want me to get us drinks?” Dream waits to sit. 

“Mm,” He hums and Dream turns to go without asking what George wants. It’s nice to think that he already knows, could repeat George’s order for every restaurant they’ve ever gone to, could predict what he’d get for anywhere they haven’t. 

George watches him as he goes. He’s wearing the jeans he bought at the mall yesterday. They’re a tighter fit than he normally goes for and George holds back his thoughts on the way they hug his strong thighs, how long they make his legs look. He shudders at the memory of Dream’s bare legs tangled with his under the covers of their bed, in the shower. 

His shoulders are broad, his shirt clinging to him in a way that makes George want so badly it clouds his vision. 

Dream leans over the bar as he orders and George memorizes the way he looks just because he can. 

It only takes a few minutes before Dream is walking back with their drinks, a beer for himself and a pornstar martini for George. 

“I had to tell the bartender how to make that,” Dream comments as he sits down, handing George his drink. 

“Actually?”

“Mhm, he had never heard of it, he looked at me like I was insane when I said pornstar.”

“Did they even have passion fruit?” George eyes the drink cautiously. 

“Yeah, they had everything, it should be fine,” He sighs, and then he takes a long sip of his beer.

“Jesus,” George blinks when Dream downs nearly half of it in one gulp, “Are you trying to get drunk?”

The bottle clicks wetly as Dream puts it down, “Dunno. It’s not like we have anything else to do.”

George takes a sip of his drink, sighing in defeat, “I guess. Are you gonna be ok to drive tomorrow if you get drunk?” 

“I’ll be fine, George,” Dream takes another long drink. 

He watches the line of Dream’s throat as he swallows, the bob of his Adam’s apple, and thinks distantly about how he’d like to press his lips there, feel the movement under his tongue. He takes another sip of his drink and lets the alcohol start to wash over him.

By the time he finishes his first drink, he can already feel the warm tingle of being tipsy in his fingers, the floatiness in his head. He’s always been a lightweight and he knows Dream will make fun of him for it later, when George is wasted after three drinks and Dream is just past tipsy at two. He doesn’t mind it, though. He likes getting drunk easily and being able to exaggerate it when he wants, to get away with anything and have a good excuse. 

“You want another one?” Dream asks a few minutes later, when they’ve both finished their first drink.

George nods, his head already a little wobbly. 

Dream smiles at him, his lips so pink and electric under the bar’s lighting. He closes his eyes when Dream stands to get another round, lets himself rock to the sound of the loud music and pretends they’re at home. He can almost do it, can almost pretend the hot air is from the Florida weather, that the bar they’re in is their favorite one in town, just off campus from the University in Orlando. 

He opens his eyes again and the fantasy shatters. For just a moment as he remembers where he is, there is an overwhelming sadness crushing his chest.

And then Dream is back, and everything isn’t so bad, really. 

He sets George’s new drink in front of him before taking his seat and George frowns at the distance. 

“What?” Dream notices his displeasure immediately.

“You’re far away,” George pouts. He takes a sip, and Dream feels a million miles away. He’s felt so far away this whole trip. 

“I’m literally sitting right across from you, George,” Dream laughs a little, finally loosening up. 

“You’re far,” He repeats, “Stop- stop being so far. Stop being far away.”

“You want me to sit next to you?” Dream offers. His picks up his beer for another drink and George stares at the veins on the back of his hand, how big and strong his grip is.

He nods and scoots closer to the wall, letting Dream slide in beside him.

“Dream,” His name comes out sad, and George wishes they weren’t in public so he could cling to him.

“You’ve only had like, a drink and a half, how are you already drunk?” Dream laughs, low and warm like honey.

“I’m tipsy at most,” He sighs, and presses their shoulders together. 

“Sure,” Dream rolls his eyes, smiling.

Two more drinks later, and now they're drunk. 

“George,” Dream whines. He’s had one more drink than George has, and he thinks they’re probably floating around the same level of intoxication. 

He has his forehead pressed against Dream’s shoulder and hums in response. Dream is so solid, broad and strong, and George wants to feel his body under his hands.

“Dream,” George mocks back in the same tone.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Dream sighs, sad.

“You wanna go back to the room?” George lifts his head.

Dream groans, “No. Yes. I don’t wanna be here,” He seems frustrated suddenly, “I want to go home.” 

“We’ll get to go home tomorrow,” George tries to soothe him, “Hopefully the part gets there early and we’ll get home before it’s dark.”

“But it won’t be the same,” Dream says, his voice wet like he’s about to cry.

George kind of wants to cry himself. His arms feel heavy but he brings them up to grab onto Dream like an anchor. 

“It’ll-” He takes a shaky breath, “It’ll be ok. We just have to fix it, and then- and then it’ll be the same. It’ll be good again,” He tries to convince himself.

“I just don’t get it,” Dream says, and it almost seems like he’s talking to himself, “Like, I don’t get it. That- that tweet was so stupid, and I didn’t- I just wanted to know why he liked it and he got so mad, George. He was so mad at me,” Dream’s nose turns red.

George’s bottom lip quivers, and he can’t stop himself from thinking back to the fight.

It had been such bullshit, something that should have been resolved so easily.

Sapnap had liked some bullshit tweet, some random fan claiming that Sapnap was unhappy in Florida, that he’d moved for Dream and George, not DreamandGeorge.

It was dumb, and it hurt in a weird way that he’d even felt there was enough truth to it to like it. He’d never said anything to either of them about feeling left out, nothing about wanting to be included more or hating their situation. And he isn’t left out, they never leave him out. It upsets George to think that he feels like they do, when nearly everything they do, they do as a team. 

Dream had asked him about it, a fleeting mention asking why he’d liked it, calling it stupid and untrue, and George still remembers the exact way Sapnap had turned to him. They’d been on the couch, George tucked into the corner of the couch, Dream’s thigh warm against his where they’d sat with Sapnap at his favorite spot across from them. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to stop from thinking about it. 

“We should go back to the room,” He chokes out.

He blinks his eyes open and finds Dream’s face in the fuzzy darkness.

“I gotta pay the tab,” Dream sighs, and he looks so sad George wants to tear the world apart.

“Let’s go pay,” George tells him, “Let’s go back.”

Dream wobbles as he stands from the booth, George following with a steady hand against his shoulder as they make their way to the bar.

It takes a few minutes until they’re pushing open the door and stumbling back onto the street.

“Careful,” George clings to Dream’s arm as he nearly trips on the sidewalk, “This way.” 

The fresh air is sobering, and George uses the slight clarity to guide them back to the hotel. Dream makes weepy little sounds the whole way back, not like he’s crying but like he isn’t far off.

George just rubs his arm, brushing off any odd looks they get from the few people they pass in the lobby.

“George,” Dream says once the elevator doors close, taking them up to their floor.

“Hm?” George resists the urge to hold his hand.

“You’re my best friend,” His eyes go wide and sparkly with tears.

George’s heart aches. 

“Yeah?” The elevator dings and George guides them off and down the hall, fishing his keycard from his pocket.

“You know me better than anyone else,” Dream sighs, tripping forward into the room, his long legs carrying him to fall face-first on the mattress with an oof.

“I’ve known you for a long time,” George’s body feels heavy as he moves to lay on the bed next to Dream. 

He’s not sure if he’s allowed, but he brings a hand to rub up and down over Dream’s back, counting each knob of his spine.

“You know everything about me,” Dream says, muffled where his face is buried into the covers.

“I do,” George agrees, although he isn’t sure. He wishes he were still as drunk as Dream is. He’s a lightweight, but the effects of liquor fade faster for him than they do for Dream and he always ends up sober first.

“I don’t know anything about you,” Dream says next, softer this time. He turns his head, resting his cheek against the soft white comforter.

“What?” George gives a confused laugh, “Of course you do.”

“No,” Dream frowns, “I- you said I felt far away, but you’re far away, you’ve always been far away.”

“Dream, that’s not true,” George is getting upset. He doesn’t want to be upset with Dream, he’s already upset enough with Sapnap. 

“It is,” Dream argues, “There’s some things you don’t tell me. You don’t want to tell me, and you’re going to start to hate me, and you’re going to leave like Sapnap. You’re going to leave, you’re both going to leave me,” Dream hiccups around a sob.

George shakes his head, tears burning in his eyes. He’s been too transparent on this trip, has let his long-repressed feelings skim too close to the surface and now Dream can see right through him.

“I would never leave you,” George’s eyes burn, “I wouldn’t ever. I left- Dream, I left my whole life for you, I wouldn’t leave.”

“You won’t tell me,” Dream turns over onto his back, nose red and eyes leaking as he stares up at the ceiling, “Sapnap didn’t tell me he was unhappy and now he’s leaving. You won’t tell me and you’re gonna leave too.”

“I’m not, Dream, I won’t.”

He turns to George, his eyes so big George is afraid he might fall in.

“Tell me,” He begs, “Please just tell me if you’re unhappy. George.

“I’m not unhappy,” George lowers himself until they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other in the orange lamplight.

“Then why- There’s something you’re not telling me,” Dream’s voice is watery, but he seems to be sobering up. 

“It’s not important. I would tell you if it was,” George promises.

“Tell me anyway.”

“You might like me less if you knew,” He wants to shake his head, beg Dream to just drop it.

Dream pushes his bottom lip out the way he always does when he’s unhappy, and George wants to kiss the sadness off his face.

“Not possible,” Dream tells him softly.

“Well,” George scrambles, something like panic surging in his chest, “I might like you less if you knew.”

“Why?” Dream asks genuinely, hurt. 

“You don’t- Dream, please. I’m not unhappy. It’s not important. I’ve been- Dream, it’s been so long, I don’t need to tell you now.” 

For a moment, George thinks back to the song Dream had played in the car on their drive. Not strong enough to be your man. It sticks in his head, looping over and over.

Dream looks at him with teary eyes, his face so hurt and broken. He doesn’t know how to comfort him, has felt lost trying to do it for days. He isn’t fit for this. It’s a restlessness beneath his bones, a quiet, terrifying fear of fucking up.

He wonders if this is like what Sapnap felt, if he let it simmer for so long it boiled over. 

He brings a hand to the side of Dream’s face, brushes over the freckles under his eye with a careful thumb.

There was a long time when he didn’t think he would ever get anything like this. Dream, here and next to him, being able to touch him, to press his hands to his skin just because he wants to, even if it isn't in every way he wishes he could. 

He leans forward and presses his lips to Dream’s.

Everything goes quiet except the blood rushing in his ears. He wishes he could blame it on the alcohol, but he’d never get away with it this long after his last drink.

Dream’s mouth is warm and soft under his, pliant and wet as he kisses him back, and George’s head spins.

Dream is kissing him back. They’re kissing.

When they part, Dream is panting like he hasn’t taken a breath in years.

George’s blood thrums, cold anxiety creeping up his spine.

“There,” He chokes out after a minute of terrifying silence.

“There?” Dream rasps.

“There. That’s what I wasn’t telling you,” He confesses, feeling like he’s choking. 

Dream’s eyes soften, “George,” He breathes his name.

“You’re so dumb, how could you think- how could you think I was unhappy,” George frowns, “Such- such bullshit, Dream, saying you don’t know me, you know all of me. Maybe I will like you less since you know me so well,” He rambles, and his stomach turns at the way a slow smile is spreading across Dream’s face, “Stop looking at me like that.”

Dream just shakes his head, and then he’s leaning over to kiss him again.

George makes a soft noise in his mouth, but he doesn’t have the mind to feel embarrassed about it. 

Dream sighs into the kiss like he’s coming home, and George wants to live inside him. Something clicks into place when Dream shifts, moving to hover over George as they kiss.

He makes another noise, and then another until Dream parts his lips and lets George lick inside his mouth. His hands roam Dream’s shoulders, dragging gentle nails down his back and squeezing his sides, finding every inch of Dream he can.

“George,” Dream pants into his mouth, and George can taste the smile in his mouth.

“I’d never leave,” George can’t help but say, pulling Dream down until all his weight is pressed against the line of his body. He wraps his arms around Dream’s neck and throws his legs around his waist like a koala.

Dream laughs sadly, still a little tipsy, “Stop,” He says like he’s still afraid it isn’t true.

“I wouldn’t, “ George buries his face in the side of Dream’s neck and smells his skin, “I waited my whole life to be with you, I am never leaving. Dream, I’m not.”

“Ok,” Dream sniffles, like he’s going to cry again, “Please don’t.” 

He kisses a gentle line across George’s jaw.

“I won’t,” George says, and it feels more like promise. 

He pulls Dream’s mouth back to his, closing his eyes and memorizing the way they move so perfectly together. He shoves his tongue back into his mouth, feels the ridges of his soft palette and each bump of his teeth. 

Dream shifts above him, and he feels so good like this, so big and all-encompassing as he covers George’s body with his own. He moans softly when Dream’s hips rub against his.

“Fuck,” Dream groans agasint George’s mouth.

“More,” George licks his bottom lip, curling his hands into Dream’s hair.

Dream grunts and ruts his hips against George again. He can feel the outline of his cock as they grind together, the thick shape of him through too many layers of fabric. 

“Dream,” He whines, pushing his hips up. His cock throbs in his shorts, his skin electric as Dream ruts against him. He wants to claw his way inside Dream’s body, make a home between his ribs that he won’t ever have to leave. 

“God, this is so-” Dream chokes out, frantic as he moves his hands up and down George’s sides. 

“Take your fucking clothes off,” George complains when Dream pushes his hands under his shirt, warm hands across cold skin. 

“Fuck,” Dream pulls back and yanks his shirt off before helping George out of his. 

It’s messy when their mouths connect again, and George moans when Dream’s bare skin presses against his own. 

“Like your chest,” He gasps, bringing his hands down to grope the soft flesh of Dream’s pecs, run his fingers over the hair dusted across. 

“You like my chest?” Dream huffs a laugh, kissing down to nip at George’s jaw before kissing at his neck. The scratch of his stubble feels so good, and George sighs into it, tipping his head back and baring his throat for Dream to sink his teeth into. 

“Yes,” He gasps, “You’re so broad, and like- hairy. God, can you just-” He grabs at the waistband of Dream’s pants and tries to push them down. 

“George,” Dream laughs, “You’re gonna like, rip my pants or something. I just bought these, you know.”

“Don’t care,” He squirms under Dream, “Want them off. Get naked, idiot.”

Dream pulls back again, sitting on his knees between George’s legs. His smile grows small and he hesitates, hands trembling against George’s. 

“Dream?” George blinks up at him.

“Are we gonna have sex?”

It’s so forward George can’t help but laugh, his head tipping back. 

“What?” 

“I want-” Dream frowns, and then brings his hands from George’s sides to rest against his belly, “I just want to be clear. With what’s happening.”

“Do you want to have sex?” George watches the way Dream’s fingers spread out, covering his whole stomach. His cock is a hard and obvious tent in his shorts. 

“Yes,” Dream answers immediately, “God. Yes. You’re so- fuck, George. This has been so much. It’s so much.” His eyes go watery. 

“Too much?” George worries. He wants to pull Dream down so they can be close again. 

Dream shakes his head, loose curls shaking. 

“No. No, never. I feel like the last few days haven’t been real,” He laughs wetly, and then his fingertips slip beneath the waistband of George’s shorts. 

It’s funny to think they’ve already seen each other naked, that Dream has already held George’s cock in his hand. The difference between this and that is palpable though, and George feels like he’s burning with it. 

“C’mere,” George grabs at him until they’ve switched places, Dream flat on his back with George between his legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dream says, voice thick with emotion, “George, I can’t even believe it. I can’t believe it.”

“Stop,” George laughs, blushing down to his chest, “I want to get you naked, stop being sappy.”

“Then get me naked,” Dream smiles up at him, his eyes so big and green.

“Fine,” George sighs, “I will.”

And then he’s popping open the fly of Dream’s jeans and pulling them down his long legs along with his boxers. 

His cock bobs for a moment before falling against his belly with a thick sound and George’s mouth waters. 

“Dream,” He breathes, moving to push Dream’s legs further open and lay between them.

“Stop staring,” Dream whines, embarrassed. 

“You know we’ve already seen each other naked, right?” George rests his cheek on Dream’s thigh, continuing to stare. 

“It’s still like- weird,” He squirms, “We were in the shower and it’s not like- ok, well you weren’t looking then.”

“And you were?” George teases. He’d been careful to not look in the shower, afraid of never being able to move on or let go. He takes his time now, stares at the long length of it, because of course, Dream would have a big dick. He looks at the pink head and his heavy balls, the tawny hair that lays neatly trimmed around the base, and how it curls and thickens the closer it gets to his inner thighs and the crease of his ass. George would like to fuck him one day, he thinks absently. 

“I literally touched it,” Dream burns.

“It?” George just wants to provoke him. He brings a sweet hand up to trace along the vein trailing down Dream’s shaft. He wants to feel it against his tongue.

“Your dick,” Dream relents, biting back a moan.

George hums, nuzzling his face closer to the crease of Dream’s thigh. He can smell him so intensely like this like the whole room is full of nothing but the thick scent of him, the smell of man and Dream and sweat and sex. He moans without meaning to, his nose nudging the base of Dream’s cock.

“George,” Dream sounds breathless like he’s already close. There’s a drop of precum sitting prettily at his tip, and George wants to lick it away.

“Can I suck you?” He pants, his hot breath making Dream’s dick twitch.

“Please. Fuck, George,” He brings his hands down to tangle in George’s hair as he moves, pressing his lips to the base.

The first contact is good, warm and heady, and George thinks he can feel Dream’s heartbeat under his tongue when he sticks it out. He moans, immediately moving to run his tongue further up until he can taste the salty bite of precum.

Dream moans and his hips buck up, his cock sliding away from George’s mouth as he ruts against the side of his face.

“Dream,” George scolds, his hands holding down his hips. 

“Sorry,” Dream moans. His cheeks are already flushed, his hair messy against the pillows.

“Are you already close?” George asks, genuinely curious. He brings a hand to finally touch Dream’s dick, marveling at the way it looks in his grip. He strokes it once just to watch the way Dream twitches.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Dream’s voice is tight, high strung.

“I haven’t even put my mouth on you,” He strokes his hand again, spreading precum down until his cock shines. His own dick throbs painfully.

“Please,” He closes his eyes, hips bucking again.

George sighs, strokes him one more time, and then he’s taking his cock into his mouth, sinking down until Dream moans.

“So good,” Dream whines, tightening his grip in George’s hair, “You’re so good at this, feels so good.”

George makes a garbled noise, trying to gently bob his head while keeping his teeth tucked away, focused on making this perfect. He’s relying entirely too much on what he’s seen in porn, but it’s the only resource he has.

He likes it exactly as much as he thought he would. Dream feels good in his mouth, he thinks as he sinks lower, big and thick and right against his tongue. 

“‘M close,” Dream moans when it’s barely been a few minutes.

George pulls off with an obscene pop, strings of spit connecting his mouth to Dream’s cock.

“Seriously?” He brings a hand to stroke him as he catches his breath. His mouth feels swollen, and he can tell it is by the way Dream’s eyes are drawn to it.

“Please keep going,” Dream begs, his own mouth pink from sinking his teeth into his lips.

“So needy,” George sighs before bringing his mouth back down.

It’s startlingly intimate when Dream brings a hand to brush the sweaty bangs out of his face as he sinks down, his eyes flicking up to meet Dream’s. He wonders how he looks like this, mouth stretched wide around a dick, cheeks surely flushed and splotchy. His question is answered in the way Dream is looking at him like he hung every star in the sky. 

He moans softly, whimpering pathetically when Dream’s hips thrust up, gently fucking his mouth. His stomach churns hot thinking about the day Dream will be able to fuck his face with no hesitation. 

“So beautiful,” Dream starts to ramble once George starts bobbing his head again, “George, you’re so beautiful. You’re-” He chokes around the emotion in his voice, “I love you so much. I’m so lucky- I’m so glad you’re here, I’m so lucky you’re here,” He babbles, petting the side of George’s face and feeling where he cheek bulges from the cock in his mouth.

It’s not long before George is pressing down as far as he can comfortably go, moaning as Dream comes down his throat in hot spurts, crying George’s name as he does.

He strokes Dream’s hip as he does his best to keep everything in his mouth, trying to swallow as he does. 

When Dream finally twitches away from him with a whine, George pulls off, cum still in his mouth and sticky where it spills a little at the sides. He swallows the rest, using his fingers to wipe away everything else. 

“Fuck,” Dream breathes out, and his face looks so small and sleepy. 

“Good?” George croaks, his voice ruined. He crawls up Dream’s body to cling to his side, his cock still hard and poking at Dream’s hip. 

“So good,” Dream sighs, pulling at George until he can press their lips together, “You’re so perfect.”

They kiss slowly, and George tries to not hump Dream’s hip but he’s still hard, and it’s becoming difficult to focus on anything else. 

“Dream,” He whines into his mouth. 

“You want help?”

“Please,” He nearly cries, shifting his hips to make it easier for Dream to push his shorts down and take his cock in hand. 

“You’re still so small,” Dream says, breathless. 

Even when he’s hard, Dream’s hand still covers his cock almost completely. He wishes he were more embarrassed, but instead, it just sends hot waves down his spine. He bucks his hips up, fucking the calloused fist around him. 

“Dream,” He pants, turning to press his face against Dream’s neck, licking the sweat from his skin. His hands scramble around Dream’s body, needing to feel the hot thrum of his body to remind himself this is real.

Eventually, his hands find Dream’s chest again, moaning when he squeezes the soft flesh of them.

“What are you doing?” Dream laughs, twisting his hand wickedly, his palm brushing over George’s tip and making him moan.

“Touching your tits,” George groans, continuing to grope his chest. He likes the flat plane of them, how there’s just enough flesh for him to squeeze and just enough hair that he can feel it against his palms. He’s so much of a man. He can’t help it when he moans again.

“You really like my chest?” 

“Yes, idiot,” George bucks his hips, the knot in his belly beginning to unravel, “Like all of you.”

Dream speeds up his hand and brings George over the edge. He comes with his mouth open and panting against Dream’s neck, embarrassing weepy noises as he spills across Dream’s fist and drips onto his belly. 

He shudders as he comes down, sighing when Dream finally let's go and curls his arms around him.

For a long minute, the only sound in the room is their hearts beating in synch.

“That was ok, right?” Dream breaks through the silence.

“What? Of course, it was,” George frowns, “Why would it not be?”

Dream makes a small noise, and then he’s sitting up, crossing his ankles and bringing his knees to his chest. George turns on his side to look up at him, staring up the long line of his back.

“Sapnap is going to hate us,” He says, his voice small.

George’s heart skips an anxious beat.

“He won’t,” George tries to convince himself, “He’ll- he’ll be happy for us. It just- we just have to be careful, or something.”

“George,” Dream sighs, “He was so-” He shakes his head sadly, swallowing around the lump in his throat, “He already felt left out, and we weren’t even together. He’s gonna- It’ll be so much worse if we show up asking to work things out like this.”

Something cracks in George’s chest. Fear surges through his veins, electric and paralyzing. His worst fears swirl around his head.

“So you don’t think we should be together?” His voice feels hollow. He wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

“No,” Dream rushes out, turning back towards him, “No, fuck, George, that’s not what I mean. That’s not- Fuck, I don’t think I could ever go back to- to before after this. We just- I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Then what do we do?” Tears press at his eyes.

“I don’t know. Fuck. Fuck, this is so fucking unfair. He’s so- he’s being so-” Anger builds in Dream’s voice and dissipates just as fast as it came, “I just don’t understand. I don’t understand. I tried- I never wanted him to feel left out, or- or like you were more important than he was. I don’t know when he became so unhappy, George.”

“Come here,” George pulls him back down until Dream is in his arms, their naked bodies intertwined, “It’s not your fault. You did the best you could, he just- he didn’t tell us, we couldn’t have known he was upset. He’s just- he’s going through something, but he’ll get over it and we’ll all be fine again. He’ll be happy for us, and we’ll be fine, ok?” He runs his fingers through Dream’s hair. 

Dream nods silence against his shoulder, strong arms wrapping around George’s back.

When they wake up, there’s a text from the mechanic waiting on Dream’s phone.

Nick (Mechanic): part just got in. gonna go ahead and put it in. should be ready to go in about an hour or so.

“Oh, thank god,” Relief melts off of George’s shoulders for the first time in days. 

“This is from like an hour ago, we should get our shit and go now.”

George nods, and they take a few minutes to collect their few items and shove them into their leftover shopping bags from the mall.

It only takes a few minutes to check out from the hotel and soon they’re walking the mile down the street to the mechanic. 

“Ready to go home?” George asks carefully, his shoulder brushing against Dream’s with each step.

“I guess. Is it bad I kind of want to stay here?” 

“Yes,” George gives a sad laugh, “We can’t just, like, avoid it.”

“I know,” Dream sighs, “I’m just nervous, I dunno. I feel like shit.”

“It’ll be ok. We’ll have 10 hours in the car to work out a game plan.”

Dream snorts a laugh, “Like you aren’t gonna be asleep for most of the drive.”

“Ok, well we can plan during the parts where I’m awake,” He grins.

Nick greets them at the front of the shop when they arrive, shaking their hands again and taking them around back to the car.

He explains everything they fixed and goes over the cost with Dream once more, and then they’re shaking hands and Dream is being handed the keys.

“Thank you so much for everything,” Dream says, shaking Nick’s hand a final time.

“Hey, no worries, man. Glad I could get it fixed up for you. Have a good drive home. Nice meeting you both,” He smiles.

They say their goodbyes and pile into the car.

Dream sets his directions to home back onto his phone, and turns onto the road.

George, as expected, falls asleep almost as soon as they get on the highway.

When he wakes up, they’re already back in Alabama, 7 more hours to go before they’re home. 

“Sleepy,” Dream comments when he opens his eyes, groaning at the afternoon sun in his eyes.

“What time is it?” He grumbles.

“Three. We’ll be home around ten, probably.”

“When things are better, can we go on another road trip?” He asks, resting his head against the window. He watches the world roll by.

“Where do you wanna go?”

“Hm,” He hums, “I dunno. Where can we go?”

“I mean, kind of anywhere, I guess. We could always drive to North Carolina instead of you guys flying sometime.”

George wrinkles his nose, “Ugh. No. I don’t like North Carolina.”

“What?” Dream laughs.

“It’s become so, like- I just associate it with business. I want to go on a road trip somewhere fun, take me somewhere fun, Dream.”

“I’ll take you anywhere in the world, baby.”

“Baby?” George’s ears heat up, and he turns to look at Dream. It makes his stomach flip, something good and right, and a little embarrassing.

“Shut up, it just slipped out,” Dream grins.

“I’m not saying it back,” He decides.

“Are you saying I’m not your baby, George?” Dream frowns.

“You’re a baby, for sure.”

“George,” Dream pouts.

“Stop making that dumb face, it’s dumb.”

“I thought you said I couldn’t be dumb, remember that?” He recalls their conversation from a few days ago.

“Ok, well you actually can be dumb, but only when I decide you are. Like right now.”

Dream laughs, his fingers tapping at the wheel. His eyes go a little sad like he’s thinking too hard.

“What are we gonna tell him?” He asks after a minute.

“I think we should wait. Until- like, until after we have things figured out.”

“You don’t think he’ll be mad?”

“Obviously he’ll be mad, but, I dunno. His biggest issue was like, being left out, if we walk in with our tongues down each other throat he’d never even try to fix things.”

“I mean, I wasn’t planning on walking in with our tongues like that,” Dream gives a small smile.

“Ok, whatever, you know what I mean. We’ll just wait, it’ll be fine.”

“You think?” He can hear how fragile the question is.

He takes a slow breath, “Yeah. Yes, I do.” And he does, mostly.

Dream puts a comforting hand on his thigh, squeezing it gently as reassurance as he keeps driving.

George turns up the music and watches the trees pass.

It’s dark by the time they pull up to the house. 

They spent the rest of the drive chatting idly, stopping for gas twice and eating lunch and dinner at McDonald’s, not wanting to stop for long and get home too late. There’s a horribly nervous energy between them when they finally turn onto their street. Everything is still in its place as they drive slowly up to the driveway.

For some reason, George had almost expected it to look different, like the world should be as out of order as he felt.

Sapnap’s car is parked in the driveway when they full in, and for some reason, George feels relief. He’d been afraid they’d come home and he’d already be gone, decided it’s too late to try and work things out, that they weren’t worth it. 

“Home,” Dream says quietly, his voice cracking slightly. 

“You feel ok?” George asks gently as they pull into the garage. 

Dream looks worried, anxiety etched across his face. 

“As ok as I probably can feel, I guess.”

He turns off the car but stalls, his hands flexing nervously around the wheel. 

George waits a beat. 

“Are you gonna go in?” He nudges gently. 

“Yeah,” Dream closes his eyes for a moment, “Yeah, ok. Let's go.”

Florida sounds so loud at night. George almost forgets as he exits the car, greeted with the sounds of frogs croaking and bugs hissing, the cicadas buzzing in his ears.

“Hey,” He steps up next to Dream before he pushes the door open. He takes his hand, gentle fingers looping together, “It’s gonna be fine.”

Dream nods and squeezes his hand once before dropping it and pushing the door open.

The house is quiet in a way that scares him.

They step in tentatively, bated breath like there’s a jumpscare around the corner.

He doesn’t startle when he sees Sapnap sitting on the couch. Sapnap doesn’t startle either, just looks up from his phone and stares at the two of them.

It’s painful in a new way to find him sitting there quietly, waiting. He wants to make some loud obnoxious noise and throw himself over the couch, knock his elbows too harshly into his ribs while he tells him all about the last few days. 

He can feel Dream looming behind him, equally as quiet and just as terrifying. 

“Hey,” Dream breaks the silence first. 

George wants to sob.

“Hi.”

It’s so awkward. It’s so awkward, and George wants to start screaming if only to break the tension.

“Can we just fucking get this over with?” He snaps, heart lurching, “Can someone say something? Please?”

“George,” Dream says quietly, and then does the worst possible thing in this moment, and puts a hand on George’s waist.

He can feel the way Sapnap’s eyes snap to it instantly.

“Oh, you can’t be fucking serious,” His eyes go hard, his face emotionless and set in stone.

“Nick-” Dream uses his real name, and George thinks he might be sick.

“No, there’s just no fucking way,” He laughs in disbelief, almost betrayed. He stands from the couch.

“Can we please just sit down and talk,” Dream keeps a calm voice, but takes his hand away from George’s side.

“Talk about fucking what Dream? The fact that you and George decided to fucking shack up the second I tell you I’m leaving? After telling you it’s because I’m fucking sick of being treated like the annoying third wheel you can’t get rid of?” He looks furious in a way George has never seen him before. 

It’s too much like Thursday night, the three of them standing around the living room far too late at night to be screaming like this.

“That’s not- that is not what happened. We- we want to figure this out, we don’t-”

“We,” Sapnap laughs cruelly again, “Always we with the two of you. He means we, right? But not us, we.”

Dream frowns, “What? That’s not what I mean. Why- I don’t understand what I did. You, like, it’s like you just hate me all of the sudden and I don’t- I didn’t do- I don’t know what I did. Pleas,e just- can we just talk, and you can tell me, and I can- I can fix it, just let me fix it,” His voice cracks halfway through, devastating in how genuine his plea is.

George feels frozen, like he’s watching a movie of his own life happening in front of him.

“Jesus Christ,” Sapnap rubs his hands over his face, “It’s so- it’s fucking stupid. This is so fucking stupid.”

He sits back down on the couch, and George thinks maybe this is good. He isn’t trying to run away. He’s not leaving.

Dream steps forward hesitantly, and then moves to sit on the other side of the couch when Sapnap doesn’t stop him. George lingers for a moment before taking the chair opposite the couch. 

“Can you just explain without- without yelling, or getting mad, I just want to understand,” Dream is sitting so stiffly it almost looks like it hurts. George wants to wrap himself around his back until he can breathe again.

Sapnap closes his eyes, “Fuck, dude.”

“Please,” Dream asks, impossibly gentle in the face of anger.

“I don’t hate you,” Sapnap starts off, and George sees Dream’s eyes frost over with tears.

“Ok,” His voice shakes with the force of trying to hold back sobs.

“Dream, I’m serious. I don’t hate you,” Sapnap looks like he might cry too, and George’s heart breaks in ways he didn’t even know was possible. 

“God,” Dream’s voice is thick with tears, “Thank God.”

“It’s like-” Sapnap sighs, “I always fucking knew you and George were different, right? I’m not fucking stupid, even if I’m kind of oblivious. But we were kids, and best friends, and brothers, and then you meet this older guy who wedges his way into our friendship, and it’s like- you know, for years I didn’t like George because I thought he was trying to replace me as your best friend?”

George remembers. Years of fighting, butting heads in every way with Sapnap, every conversation leading to an argument Dream inevitably had to break up. They mellowed out as time passed, as they both grew older and Sapnap became less of a volatile teenager. 

“I know,” Dream croaks, “The two of you were awful for so long, you just fought all the time. I wasn’t- I was never trying to replace you, you know that.”

“I know. It didn’t feel like it, though. You just- dude, you liked him so fucking much. Even if I, like, didn’t get why or the exact way you liked him, it was still fucking obvious you liked him differently from everyone else. And it was fine, and I moved in, and it was still fine. George was still in London, and I was in Florida, and me and George didn’t hate each other anymore.”

George’s heart drops. He feels sick. He lets Sapnap continue.

“Yeah, I remember,” Dream encourages him to go on.

“We lived together, and you still spent more time with George, but that was fine because we were living together it, like, made sense that you’d spend so much time with him to like, make up for him not being here when we were already living together. And me and him were finally in a good place, so it never bothered me, it was just- I dunno, it was really easy like that.”

It was easy before he got here. He hears the implication that it’s no longer easy without Sapnap having to say it.

“You want me to leave,” He says without meaning to, his throat sore. Vaguely, he realizes it’s only the second time he’s spoken since they walked in. 

“What?” Dream’s head snaps to him and the same time Sapnap’s does. 

“What the fuck?”

“That’s what you mean. You- it was better when I wasn’t here.”

“That’s not what I fucking said, George.”

“It’s what you meant, though.”

“No, it fucking isn’t. What are you fucking talking about, I literally didn’t say that.”

“You’re literally just going on about how much easier it was when I was in London and you lived with Dream alone. How else am I supposed to interpret that?” 

“George-”

“Can you just fucking let me finish?” Sapnap snaps. 

“What else-”

“George,” Dream’s voice cuts through, his tone unmoving, “Let him finish.”

Sapnap huffs, and George glares, but he lets him continue. 

“It was easy, but it still sucked. I wanted you here too, you know,” He looks at George, “You’re my best fucking friend, dude. I like living here, I like living with you guys. But I have spent like half of my life taking a backseat to fucking- fucking dnf and I figured George would get here and you two would be attached at the hip for the first month, or something and then it would finally be the three of us as, like, the three of us. Not the two of you and me. And it’s been fucking eight months and it’s still just you two.”

It hangs in the air between them all, the heavy truth of it. 

“There’s no way you actually feel like that,” George says, and maybe it’s the wrong thing to say, but he says it anyway. He doesn’t believe it. 

“What the fuck?” 

“There’s no way you feel like we fucking- I have a fucking podcast with you! I spend, like, 90% of my time that I’m not with Dream, with you, I don’t understand how you could possibly feel left out, I don’t get it.”

“Of course, you don’t,” Sapnap shakes his head, “He’s always been the most important thing in the fucking world to you, you never care about anyone else. You moved across the world for him, you’d never move like that for me. You love me, sure, I’m not fucking stupid, I know I’m your best friend, but I also know I’ll always be second. And it fucking sucks, George.”

“I moved here for both of you,” He says quietly, his heart sinking so far in his chest that he’s afraid he can’t feel it anymore. 

“You wanted to move in with him before I had even thought of it.”

“That’s not fair.”

Tears burn in his eyes when he thinks of the past, how cracked open and desperate he’d been for any piece of Dream he could have. 

“How is it not fair? It’s the fucking truth, that’s just what happened. And whatever, you’re fucking in love with him, everyone has known that forever and you just-”

“Shut up,” George snaps at him, “Shut up, that is not fucking fair to use that against me, how is that my-”

“Oh, come on, George! Like you have ever cared about anyone as much as you care about Dream. I’m your best friend but you’d ditch me in a fucking second if he called your name!”

“That is not true! It’s just- it’s different! I didn’t always have him like you did!” His throat burns from trying not to cry. 

“You’ve always had him! You’ve always fucking had him, and both of you would have always rather had each other than me!”

“What?” George’s face wrinkles, “What the fuck are you on about?”

“Obviously, I don’t fucking mean it like that,” Sapnap groans, “I don’t fucking want y’all to want me like you want each other, that’s fucking-”

“Can you get back on track, then?” George interrupts, nauseous. 

“I just mean-” He pulls off his baseball hat before running his fingers through his hair and readjusting his hat, “It’s always been different. And it was fine. But I always thought it would get easier, or- or better, and it just- it didn’t. I love you both, I fucking do, but I don’t want to fucking feel like I exist as the second choice.”

“You’re not our second choice, you’ve never-” Dream starts, and George can see the tears shining down his cheek. He wants to hold him close to his chest and wipe them away. He swallows back his own sobs.

“Dream,” Sapnap sighs, exhausted. They’re all too tired to be angry anymore. There’s an unbearable sadness sitting beside them.

“What can we do? We can- what can we do to fix it?” 

“Can we even fix it?” George dares to ask. He looks around the living room and feels so small. 

Sapnap closes his eyes, “I don’t know. You- I mean I felt like this before you were even together and now you’re- I mean, seriously? You’re dating now, or what?”

“We haven’t really talked about it, but-” Dream starts, “But yeah. More or less.” He looks to George.

“We didn’t get together because we wanted to hurt you, you know that right? This- us, we’ve never been doing this to fucking spite you, or something.” 

“I know, but-”

“I’ve been in love with Dream since I was 22,” George cuts him off. Dream’s eyes are on him in an instant, and Sapnap’s head jerks up to look at him.

“George-” Dream starts, his eyes wide.

“Just-” He cuts Dream off, “Just let me talk. Please.” 

He feels silly confessing like this, melodramatic and desperate, but the back of his mind tells him he has to keep going.

“Do you know what it’s like to be- to be gay,” His cheeks burn, his chest tight, “To be gay, and in love with you best friend who you think is straight, and you’re in the closet, and just thinking about how much you like him sort of makes you want to throw up but you like him so much, and he has this fucking- this little brother who’s fucking 14 and won’t leave you alone and then somehow it becomes you, and this boy you’re in love with, and his little brother all the time. Do you know what that’s like? Because it kind of sucks. But then you grow up, and you realize that you’re going to be in love with him forever and you just have to deal with that, and his annoying little brother grows up too and stops being so fucking annoying, and he actually starts to become cool and you like hanging out with him, and he becomes your best friend too, and everything just- it just calms down,” He turns to Sapnap, noticing the tears in his eyes, “You’re my best friend. I’m in love with Dream. Those aren’t- they aren’t the same things. Just because I-” he chokes around the word, “Just because I love him differently doesn’t mean I love you less.”

He can feel Dream looking at him, the whole room too warm and stifling. 

Sapnap’s nose is bright pink, his eyes shining and rimmed red. He looks like he’s about to sob. 

“We need you to know that you are not second best to us,” Dream mercifully takes over, looking like he’s about to cry in his own right, “You are not second. Please, just- next time you feel left out, or second, just tell us. Just tell us and we’ll fix it right away.”

“I will,” Sapnap nods, “I will.”

Forgiveness, George thinks in the back of his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Sapnap speaks again, voice breaking, and suddenly he’s a child again, so small and young and full of emotions. 

The dam breaks, and tears flood down George’s face, silent sobs and soon he can barely see through his blurry vision. He stands from the chair and stumbles forward until he’s wrapping his arms around Sapnap’s shoulder, the both of them falling backward.

They cry into each other's arms, and then Dream is there too, holding them both at once. It must look like some corny movie scene, George thinks, his brain a blob of emotions. It’s absurd, three grown men sobbing and hugging, broken apologies, and snot dripping from noses.

“I’m sorry,” Sapnap speaks through sniffles, his head resting on Dream’s shoulder, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m- fuck, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Dream pulls him closer, “We should have talked sooner, I’m sorry we didn’t.”

“This has been fucking miserable,” Sapnap laughs wetly, his voice congested, “Fuck, I didn’t even know where I was gonna go. I was gonna stay at a fucking hotel or something.”

“You fucking idiot,” George pushes at his shoulder, “We fucking thought we’d get home and you were gonna have moved back to fucking Texas, or something.”

“I fucking told you I wasn’t going back to Texas,” Sapnap finally separates from the hug, sitting back against the couch. Dream still has an arm around George, and Sapnap stares at where their bodies are pressed together.

“Can I- like, can I ask about it, or is it too sensitive right now?”

“Whatever- whatever you want. We don’t want to make you uncomfortable, just let us know-”

“Just- no sex in communal areas. If I have to see George’s dick I’ll actually throw up on it,” Sapnap fakes a gag, and George shoves a foot into his side.

“You will not-”

“Yes, I fucking will, asshole-” Sapnap moves to tackles George and George goes to lunge back, but Dream pushes them off each other with a firm hand.

“Anyway,” He rolls his eyes, “It wasn’t until last night.”

“Seriously?”

“We were still- we were still figuring our own shit out,” Dream blushes.

“Ok, that’s all I need to know, Jesus. Bless the fucking soul who has to clean that room. God, what did y’all even do the rest of the time you were there?’

“Pretty much nothing,” George rolls his eyes, letting his head fall against Dream’s shoulder.

“Uh, we went to the mall,” Dream shrugs, and then he lights up, “Wait! We got you that fucking panda, hold on,” He pushes himself off the couch, dashing out the door.

It leaves Sapnap and George alone for a moment, quiet falling back over them.

“I am sorry, you know,” Sapnap says quietly, like a secret.

“I know.”

“I’m happy for you guys.”

George twists his mouth and nods, “I know. We do love you. We never meant to make you feel like we love you less.”

Sapnap swallows, nodding, and wedges a foot under George’s thigh.

“Look!” Dream’s voice comes back into the house.

He turns the corner holding up all of their bags from the mall.

“What the fuck did you get at Spencer’s?”

“Oh my God, you’re going to die,” George grins, reaching up to grab the bag from Dream.

They spend over an hour going through the shopping bags, Sapnap losing it over the football fleshlight and immediately being disgusted by the vibrating buttplug. 

“I think I’m gonna go to bed,” He announces after a while, holding the panda bear close to his chest. 

“See you in the morning?” Dream asks cautiously as Sapnap stands.

He nods, nudging Dream’s shoulder, “Yeah, man. Night. Love you.”

“Love you,” They call in unison as Sapnap heads up the stairs.

As soon as he’s gone, George is climbing into Dream’s lap, his hands pressing against his chest.

“What are you doing?” Dream smiles, hands falling to George’s hips.

“Kissing you,” George says, and then he does. He melts into it, Dream’s mouth warm and soft against his own, the feeling of coming home washing over him.

Dream hums, opening his mouth to let George lick into it.

“Wanna go to your room,” George tells him, mumbling against his mouth.

“Yeah?” Dream sounds breathless, his hands creeping under George’s shirt. 

George hums, kissing the side of his mouth, over his beard and down his jaw. 

“Fuck,” Dream sighs, and then they’re stumbling off the couch and down the corridor to Dream’s room, mouth hot and hands eager as they blindly walk. 

“Off,” George pulls at Dream’s shirt as soon as the door is shut behind them. 

“Quiet,” Dream hushes him, but he pulls his shirt off anyway, tugging at George’s and pushing them back until they’re falling onto the bed, Dream big and warm above him. 

He moans when their bare chests press together, and he’s not sure he’ll ever get enough of this feeling. 

“You want me to blow you?” Dream moves to kiss his jaw. 

“Want to fuck you,” George sighs, already hard and wanting. He pushes his hips up until Dream can feel his boner against his stomach.

“Fuck,” Dream breathes like the word has been punched out of him, his face pressing against the crook of George’s neck. 

“Do you want that?” George twists a curl around his finger, petting Dream’s back with his other hand. 

“Really fucking bad,” Dream nods, and then he’s bucking his hips to rub against George’s thigh, moaning against the skin of his neck. 

“On your back, then,” George groans, letting Dream flip them over. 

“Good?” Dream asks once he’s under him, looking up at George with his big eyes. 

He hums, watching his hands trace down Dream’s body. Dream makes a small noise when his fingers brush over his nipples and he presses down firmer, rubbing over the buds until Dream is squirming, chest heaving. 

“Sensitive?” 

“Shut up,” Dream groans, pushing his chest up into George’s hands. 

He hesitates for a minute, biting back the words he wants to say. He stares at the way his hands look against Dream’s chest, runs his nails through the hair covering his pecs. 

“What?” Dream notices, because he always does. 

“Just thinking,” George hums, “You know- you know I meant what I said earlier, right?” He scoots back and drags his hands down to rest on Dream’s belly, kneading at the softness like a cat. 

He likes the way Dream’s muscles jump under his touch, likes how hairy his belly is to match his chest. 

“Yeah, of course, I do,” Dream frowns, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” George dips down and rests his cheek against Dream’s stomach, “Sorry. I just-” The words feel harder to say now, “I’m really glad, I guess. I want you so much.”

He kisses the line of hair under Dream’s navel, breathes in his warm skin. 

“I love you,” Dream tells him, running a hand through his hair. 

“Dream,” George kisses his belly again, “Take your pants off.”

“Yeah?” Dream laughs, but he pops the button off anyway and lets George strip him again, just like he had last night. He’s still hard, his cock thick and heavy against his hip.

“And get your lube.”

“How do you know I even have lube?” Dream sits up to reach into his bedstand drawer.

“You trim your pubes, there’s no way you don’t have lube.”

“How is that even correlated?” Dream blushes, but hands George a small bottle anyway, flopping back to cover his face with his hands.

“Dunno,” George pops the cap and settles between Dream’s legs, pushing them further open, “It just makes sense. Have you ever done this before?”

Dream shakes his head.

“You’ve never fingered yourself?” He pours a little lube onto two fingers, rubbing them together to warm them up.

“No,” Dream swallows, “I’ve thought about it, but, like-”

“Hey,” George senses his nerves, “It’s ok. We don’t have to, we can do something else. You want me to suck you again?”

“No, I want to, just- can you go slow?”

“Obviously,” George rolls his eyes fondly, “Here, try putting your leg over my- yeah, like that. Ok, I’m gonna start with one, yeah?” He presses a lubed finger to Dream’s hole, heart pumping when Dream makes a low sound.

Dream nods, trust flowing from his every movement.

He’s slow, careful as he pushes in just to his first knuckle, letting Dream adjust.

“Good?”

“It doesn't really feel like anything yet,” Dream’s chest heaves anyway.

“More, then?”

Dream nods, and George keeps going, slowly pressing in until his entire finger is fitted inside.

“Fuck,” Dream throat sounds dry.

“I’m just gonna keep it here for a minute,” George tells him, slow as he twists his finger, carefully starting a shallow thrust with it.

Dream hums, making small noises until George thinks he’s ready for a second, pressing another finger to his hole.

“Ready?”

“Fuck,” Dream sounds breathless already, “Yeah. More.”

George gives him a second finger, just as slow as the first. 

“You look so good,” George tells him when both fingers are seated inside, gentle scissoring motions to help the stretch. 

“It feels weird,” Dream breathes out. 

“Bad weird?”

“No,” He rushes to correct, “No, not- not bad. Just different. Keep going.”

“It’ll feel better when I’m like, actually inside you,” George promises, reaching down to squeeze himself. The idea makes his head spin, his cock throb. 

“God,” Dream drops his head back against the pillows.

“One more, ok?”

“Mhm.”

He slides in a third, eyes lighting up when he brushes over Dream’s prostate and Dream makes a sharp noise, his cock twitching. 

“Again,” He immediately demands. 

“This?” George brushes over the same spot and Dream moans, squirming around his fingers. 

“Yes, oh, fuck.”

“Don’t cum,” George stills his fingers. 

“George,” Dream complains around a moan, “Please.”

“I want to actually fuck you, I can make you cum on just my fingers next time,” He flexes his fingers one last time before pulling them out slowly. He watches the flutter of Dream’s hole and resists the urge to feed his fingers back in just to see how easy Dream takes them. 

“Hurry,” Dream whines. 

“Wow,” George sighs, sarcastic, “Dream is literally begging for my cock. So desperate.”

“George,” He shifts his hips, “Please. I want you.”

“Ok, ok,” He grins, rising to his knees, “Condoms?” He asks, peeling off his shorts until he’s just as naked as Dream, his cock pink and dripping. 

Dream shakes his head, “I haven’t- I mean, I’m like, clean, or whatever.”

“Yeah, I am too,” George’s heart throws up inside his chest. He can’t resist the urge to take himself in hand, stroking slowly just for a small amount of relief. 

“Holy shit,” Dream breathes, his eyes locked on where George is touching himself. 

“What?” George grunts, shivering when he runs his thumb over his leaking head. 

“You’re so hot, oh my God, George.”

“I’m not even doing anything,” He pushes his hips forward, fucking the tight grip of his fist. He wants to be inside Dream more than anything. 

“You’re just- fuck, I could watch you do that forever,” Dream admits. 

“You just want to watch me jerk off?”

“Yes. Kind of, is that weird?”

“Can we have this conversation after I’ve been inside you? I’d kind of rather fuck you than fuck my hand right now.”

“Yeah, fuck, sorry. Sorry, you’re just so-”

“Dream,” George laughs, grabbing the lube to slick himself up, “You know we’ve already had sex basically, right?”

“It’s different though now, isn’t it? Now that- now that things are better.”

George twists his mouth, shuffling to press the tip of his cock to Dream’s rim. 

“It is different, you’re right,” He agrees, “It’s better.”

“I love you,” Dream tells him, hands reaching out for any part of George he can grab.

“Can I go?”

Dream nods, sliding his fingers to tangle with George’s free hand. 

He uses his other hand to guide himself, moaning when the head pushes in.

“Dream,” He breathes, watching as he disappears inside his body. They’re closer than they’ve ever been like this, entirely each others, and George thinks he could cum just thinking about it.

“Oh, fuck,” Dream gasps when George is halfway, his face pink and sweaty already.

“You’re so- Dream, oh, God. I’m literally inside you,” He moans when his hips press against Dream. 

“You are,” Dream grabs at him until they’re pressed chest to chest again, their mouths sliding together.

“You feel so good,” He starts to move his hips, a slow thrust as he tries not to blow.

Dream answers with a kiss, whining into George’s mouth. He laughs when Dream’s hands slip down and squeeze his ass, kneading the fat of it as he thrusts. 

“How are you still obsessed with my ass when I’m the one fucking you?”

“Because it’s fucking perfect, fuck,” Dream moans, snaking a hand between their bodies to jerk himself off as George fucks into him, speeding up as they both start to reach the edge.

“I’m close,” He pants against Dream’s cheek, working his hips to slide against Dream’s prostate with each thrust, “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Me too, I’m- fuck, George, there,” Dream’s head tips back, moaning at the ceiling.

He keeps his focus on nailing the spot, sitting back to move faster, his orgasm hot and coiling low in his belly.

“So pretty,” He says, almost to himself as he puts his hands back on Dream’s body, feeling his skin. He swats away Dream’s hand to take over, jerking him in time with his thrusts. 

“Please,” Dream begs him, his eyes frosted over with unshed tears, “Please.”

“Come for me, Dream, come on,” He tries to hold off his orgasm until Dream comes first, “I love you, Dream, please cum for me.”

“Fuck,” Dream nearly shouts, eyes rolling back as he comes, spilling over George’s first.

George humps into him wildly, desperately chasing his own orgasm, and it’s less than a minute before he’s coming too, pressed as far into Dream as he can get. He collapses against Dream’s chest, shuddering with the aftershocks.

Dream’s hand is calming as it pets George’s hair, comforting as he holds their bodies together. 

“George,” Dream hums, his voice raw.

“‘M tired,” He mumbles, letting his eyes slip shut. His cheek slides against Dream’s sweaty chest and he turns until he can press his mouth to his skin. 

“Can I say something first?”

George’s heart skips a beat, “Uh, yeah. ‘Course.”

“I love you,” He starts, “I didn’t- I didn’t get to say a lot earlier when you- when everything was happening.”

“It’s- hey, it’s ok. You don’t-”

“Just let me, ok? I love you. I love you- fuck, George, I love you so much. And this hasn’t always been easy, and I know it took us a long time to get here, and I wish- I wish it could have happened under better circumstances or whatever, when we weren’t stranded in the middle of nowhere and we weren’t convinced our lives were falling apart. But,” He breathes out, “But it’s ok. It’s ok, because it still happened.”

“You’re so sappy,” George says, holding back tears.

“Sappy? Like Sapnap?” Dream grins, mocking George’s word-association habit.

“Do not talk about Sapnap when we’re naked.”

“Sorry,” Dream wraps his arms tight around George’s bare middle, “I love you.”

“I-” He hesitates, “Yeah. I love you too.”

Dream tangles their fingers together again, his big thumb stroking the side of George’s hand.

He starts to fall asleep, cum drying and sticky between them but it keeps them closer, so George doesn’t mind. He listens to the steady beat of Dream’s heart, the way each pump seems to beat for him.

“We’re ok, yeah?” He asks quietly, “All of us?”

“We’re ok, George. We’re gonna be ok.”