Waltzes and Waterfalls

Chapter 6

At first, it was just Dream’s hand shifting on top of George’s, which had been resting, clasped together, in his lap. They’d been watching Tangled with the rest of Dream’s family for the past half an hour or so, and, naturally, they’d been forced on the worn, flakey leather loveseat that was, admittedly, incredibly comfy. 

Incredibly comfy for one person to sit on, at least.

But, the other seating was suitably filled when they had arrived; Maddie and Sarah sprawled out on the big sofa, Sienna and Dylan on the other, smaller one and Dream’s Grandpa on the armchair. Mark was off collecting relatives from the airport or something—George perhaps hadn’t exactly been paying particularly close attention when everyone was talking about it and figured it was a little too late to ask.

So, they had no choice but to squish onto the chair, thighs flush and almost uncomfortably warm, knees knocking against each other every time one of them so much as shifted slightly.

And that was already far too much skin contact with Dream, George had thought. But now, Dream’s hand was resting on his hand—resting on his hand in his lap .

Moments later, long, freckled fingers were lacing their way between his, and squeezing softly, and George would have willed himself to ignore it should it have just stopped there, but then there was another arm snaking behind him to wrap around his waist, resting on his hip, tugging him closer—

“Dream!” George hissed under his breath, rapidly scanning the room to check that nobody else had heard him over Rapunzel and Flynn Rider escaping the tower. 

“What?” Dream whispered back with what sounded like a roll of his eyes (George couldn’t tell— Tangled was decidedly too important to miss for his fake-boyfriend-slash-real-best-friend’s antics). An amused, amicable roll of his eyes, but a roll of his eyes nonetheless.

“What are you doing?” 

When he got no response, he snatched a glance to the left to see Dream, who just shrugged and flashed him a small, sheepish grin. 

George let out an exasperated huff. “If you want to cuddle, you can always just ask.”

In all honesty, he was shocked at how steady his voice was. He wondered if it could pass for the voice of someone whose heart wasn’t running away, beating at a rate that was dangerously close to making him dizzy. 

Perhaps he could pretend it was just enthusiasm for Tangled . He internally chuckled at the thought.

“Can we cuddle?” He responded hastily, and George promised himself not to indulge in the way Dream’s eyes seemed to light up. Surely, it was just a trick of the light; It must have been. “It will look good in front of all of them, right?” Dream tacked on, and George nodded with a fond smile he knew he would have found absolutely sickening on anyone else’s face in the past but he completely understood now. And so, he allowed himself to be pulled into Dream, curling up, snuggling into his side and wrapping his arms tightly around Dream’s left one until he was practically hugging it. 

“Is this what you wanted?” George asked, staring up at Dream with a look of nothing short of adoration. Dream looked the best like this, George thought, when his eyes were on him and him only. Call George selfish, but he loved the attention. He’d die for those little private smiles, so fond and gentle, reserved solely for him. Sometimes, he allowed himself to wonder if there was something behind them. It felt a little self-indulgent, George thought bashfully, but it was nice to pretend that behind curled lips there was something more, something real.