LOVE LOCKDOWN (dnf + karlnap)

14: Cause For Concern

It wasn't often that George got sick. Knock on wood . And if he did get sick, it was over in a few days. It was a blessing, of course! Not missing school, being known as the kid who never missed school, having perfect attendance, being known as the stuck up nerd with perfect attendance- The pros were endless. Perfect attendance and an angry insurance company made for very happy parents at least.

However, the cold he managed to get in the middle of spring was so far from a blessing that it surely carved another ring into Dante's picture of hell. Not only was it the worst cold he's ever had, Dream was fucking insufferable.

"We can shotgun the soup."

George blinked. "You are insane. Go home. "

"You need to eat!"

"I'm not gonna eat soup that's been in your fucking mouth! Go home! I don't want you to get sick, Dream."

"I can't leave, " Dream exclaims.

"I'm not going to die!"

The blond crosses his arms and glares at George. "How do you know that? What if a bus drives through your window, huh? "

"I live on the second fucking floor, and what the actual fuck were you gonna do if a bus ran me over?"

"I'd stop it, obviously," Dream said, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

George groaned, pushing his face into his pillow to avoid having to look at Dream, kneeling right by his bed.

"It's a cold. Not the plague," he grumbled.

"I'm staying. I need to catch up on that book for English anyway," Dream said. And that was it, George assumed. Dream was staying. Apparently.

A hand pushed through his sweaty fringe and a second one pressed lightly against his forehead. Dream hummed but said nothing. George studied him, half his face smushed into his soft, warm pillow.

"What?" he groaned, noticing the contemplating look on the blond's face.

"You have a fever."

"We knew that already."

"Do you need painkillers? Anti-inflammatory? A washcloth? O-or something," Dream asked, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"It's 2021, Dream. There's no need to put a damp cloth on my forehead."

"Okay but- I'll get the painkillers then. Maybe some tea too? Are you sure you don't want to eat?" He stood up as he spoke, and his body's discontent with kneeling for so long made itself obvious in the popping noises his bones made as he stretched his limbs.

" Please- Dream. Baby. Darling, love. I want to sleep, okay? Just like a nap, or something. In silence. Alone. I don't need painkillers or any anti-inflammatory medication, and I'm not hungry. I- I honestly just feel a bit nauseous," George admitted, which was, in hindsight, incredibly fucking stupid.

Dream's eyes widened comically and he sprung to action. He pulled George into a sitting position, ignoring the brunet's loud complaints, and after making sure he was stable and able to sit on his own, he promptly shoved his cupped hands in front of George's face.

"What the actual fuck ?" George exclaimed, eyes flicking between Dream's exposed palms and his face.

"Do you need to throw up?" Dream rushed.

"Leave. Get out! " George yelled, shoving Dream's hands away. "You're so fucking overbearing! "

Stunned, Dream stumbled back. "B-but you're sick..."