Downhill || 𝘥𝘯𝘧

XXIII

Dream took another sip of his cocoa as George scrolled through Netflix. Eventually they settled on playing some random Gordon Ramsey show for background noise. They were sharing Dream's blanket, and Dream could feel George's thigh press against his own because they were so close.

Dream was finally starting to warm up, though he still shivered once in a while and his hands were trembling slightly.

"Why are your hands still shaking?" George asked after a moment, and when Dream looked over he noticed George was staring at him.

"Uhm... I don't know," Dream answered with a shrug. He rested the mug against the side of his knee and held one of his hands out, displaying the shakiness. "I'm still a little numb," he added with a scoff.

To Dream's surprise, George took his hand and squeezed it. His eyes widened.

"You're still freezing!" George exclaimed. He then began rubbing Dream's fingers between his hands in an attempt to warm him up. Dream watched in a sort of awe. He could only sort-of feel George's hands pressing against his own.

"If I could actually feel what you're doing to me, I'd say it felt good," Dream said with a small smirk.

"That's not funny," George said. "You really can't feel this?"

"I mean, I can, but it's just really tingly. It's weird, but I think I'll be fine," Dream assured him.

"Give me your other hand," George instructed, so Dream put the cup down and presented him with his other hand. George then cupped both hands in his own and began rubbing them furiously.

Dream watched calmly, though his heart was secretly racing at their little interaction. He took this moment to notice a few things about George.

His hands were smaller than Dream's own, and his fingers were soft. George was warmer than he looked. Dream would have expected that he was one of those 'cold' people, but he really wasn't.

Maybe that was just because Dream had spent half an hour playing out in the snow; gloveless. Like a complete idiot.

As George rubbed the feeling back into his hands, Dream found himself studying his face; the shapely structure of his jawline, the curves of his lips, and the way his hair fell so effortlessly over his forehead. He had the beginning of a slight stubble on his chin, as if he hadn't shaved in a couple of days.

His eyes were a rich dark brown; but in the right light, you could make out faint colors of gold and hazel buried in his irises.

George's skin was near perfect. He had only a few small blemishes that were only noticeable if you were studying him; like Dream was doing now. He noticed a tiny white scratch on his lip, maybe from one of his cats or something.

George's lips were full and perfectly smooth, as if he took the care to put chapstick on every night. Dream suddenly felt self-conscious of his own lips, which were marginally chapped and probably not very appealing to look at.

As much as Dream was enjoying studying George's face, he was forced to look away as George looked up and noticed he was staring. Dream quickly flitted his gaze down to his hands, which George were still rubbing the warmth into.

"Is that better?" George asked, graciously ignoring the fact that Dream had just been staring at him.

"Yeah, lots," Dream nodded promptly.

George gave a nod of gratification, slowly abating his pressure on Dream's hands. Almost teasingly, his fingers trailed along his skin, down his fingers, and eventually, away from him completely. His touch felt like silk and when he pulled away, Dream felt a hole re-open in his chest that he never even knew was there.