suddenly // dnf, gream, dreamnotfound

Sleepover prt 2

George pov//

—after reading

"Oh my god," Clay says, checking the time on his phone. 11:54. "How long have we been reading??"

"Not that long, in my case. You probably don't read a lot, though."

"Yeah, no, not really."

"I see. How late do you usually stay up?" George asks.

"Like, midnight-ish. Sort of around this time when I'm tired."

"We should go to bed now then. You can borrow my pjs, there's some stuff in the lower drawer over there." He points to his dresser. "I'll leave so you can change." George exits the room, and closes the door behind him.

His clothes. Clay opens the drawer. His clothes are all neatly folded, much unlike his drawers at home. He flips through them to find something big enough to fit him. He is a lot bigger, after all.

He finds something that seems like it would be huge on George - how cute would that be, oh my god - and wears it. It doesn't look bad.

*george pov switch*

He opens the door and George looks at him, drinking water. He spits a little back out into his cup.

"What?" Clay asks.

"Nothing, nothing nothing," George says. Grey sweatpants. And he looks so hot in them too. Oh my god, George. Jesus.

"Uhh... okay," Clay says. "Are you gonna get dressed?"

"Yeah," George says, standing up and walking over to the room again. They both go inside and Clay gets into bed.

"That's my side, idiot. Move over," George says, kneeling on the bed and pushing him a little with his hands.

"Oh come on now. No," Clay says playfully and smiles.

"Ugh," George says, yet smiling. "I'm gonna get dressed, face the wall so you don't watch me like a creep. If I get done and you haven't moved to the right side, I'll murder you."

Dream chuckles. "Sure, George, whatever." He turns to the wall and covers his eyes with his hands. A gentleman, truly.

George gets changed into a hoodie and grey sweatpants - two can play that game - and turns around to see Clay, unmoved.

"I'm done changing. MOVE IT," George says, giggling. "I'll push you off this bed."

Clay smiles and twists his back to look at George. "No, you can't. I bet you can't."

George jumps on the bed and gets on the right side of Dream, putting his hands on his shoulders and hips. He pushes as hard as he can, and Clay moves about an inch or two. He's sort of close to the edge.

"Nice try, honey."

George tries to pretend like he doesn't hear that comment and tries to push him off more, but his arms go weak, remembering the name. Honey. Oh my god.

George sighs and falls to his last resort. He starts to tickle Dream on the stomach, thank god he's actually ticklish. Dream cackles and wheezes hysterically. But Clay is stronger than him. In one swift movement, he pulls George so that he's on top, and George is pinned underneath.

George and Dream are still laughing incredibly hard together. "I can't let you do that~," Dream says, teasing George.

Heat rushes to George's face and neck in a heartbeat. It hits him that Dream has topped and pinned him to the bed. They both go silent.

George searches Dreams eyes. For anything. For a hint of love, for a hint of affection. Anything. There has to be something there.

His eyes sparkle. George swears on it. There's something in them that wasn't in them before. At least, George has never noticed it before.

"Dream...?"

"...George..." Dream responds quietly.

Neither of them move. They know it's not time yet. But they don't move.

*Clay pov switch*

His eyes... George's eyes. They're so beautiful. They glimmer in the light radiating off of the night light in the corner. They shine so perfectly.

Clay notices something in them. He notices what's there, that wasn't as prominent before. It's there. It's real. This is happening?? It's happening.

It's not time yet, Dream knows. But he doesn't want to move. Neither of them do. The tension grows by the second.

He should say something. Anything. He's literally on top of George. He lets go of George, but stays there still.

"Oh my god," George says.

"George," Clay says, lined with affection and softness for the boy. It's so stupid that you can hear it in his pathetic little voice. How bad he needs this. But he lets it go, for now.

Clay swallows. "You're so beautiful." He had to say it.

George flinches a little at the unexpectedness of the compliment.

"Yeah?" he asks softly. His accent almost disappears when he talks low like that.

"Yeah," Clay responds, returning the soft tone of voice.

George swallows.

What if it is time?

It's up to them.

Why is the world moving so slowly?

"George.." Clay says again, with no context, but George knows what he means.

"Dream...."

God, GOD... I can't do this. It's only been two weeks. But I feel like I need it. But I should wait. I should at least wait. I want it. So bad. I want it so so bad... but I should wait. I could wait....

Clay's torn apart by his own thoughts. He just wants to kiss him. So badly. But they were unsure. And Clay knew it.

"Sorry," he says so faintly that it's almost inaudible, and rolls over on to the right side of George, right where George wanted him in the first place.

"It's okay," George says genuinely, and Clay can feel the oxygen rush back into him. Oh my god.

George reaches for Clays hand and interlocks their last two fingers. Not holding hands, but holding on.

It's still there.

Clay squeezes his fingers between Georges' and sighs. It's still there. It's good.

They both know it's good.