head in the clouds

kiwi and cuddles

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

requested by ArtisticDA !

Dream is overwhelmed with editing, so George helps him regress and gets him his favorite snacks, ending the night with cuddles.

* a little bit of crying, but otherwise no warnings for this chapter:)

—

Dream huffs and slides his headphones down from his ears, laying his head in his arms on the desk and just barely resisting the urge to burst into tears.

He has spent the last 15 minutes rewatching the same 20-second clip of the video he's editing and trying his hardest to figure out what is off about it, but getting nowhere. There are distractions everywhere in his office, from all the colorful trinkets on his desk to the constant sound of heavy rain hitting the windows, and he just can't focus.

On top of that, the lights are too bright and his ears hurt from the pressure of his headset and he's hungry and thirsty and— "Dream?"

George's smooth voice reaches him through the mess of haze and thoughts in his tired mind. Warm hands settle on his shoulders and squeeze lightly, pulling an involuntary whine from his throat. Then, closer to his ear this time, "Are you feeling okay?"

He shakes his head and digs his face deeper into his arms, hiding away from the light and all the other things that are overwhelming him. George crouches down beside him and begins to brush through the tangles in his blond curls.

Dream turns his head slightly to meet brown eyes, blinking at him. "Nothing is working," he complains quietly, referring to the paused footage on the monitors behind him. George glances at it briefly before meeting green eyes again, tilting his head to the side.

"Maybe it's time for a little break?" He suggests softly, tracing a thumb along the blond's freckled cheekbones and the slightly darkened skin underneath his eyes. "I can tell that you're tired."

Dream's eyes flutter shut at that, letting George's touch pull him into the fuzzy headspace that he has been avoiding ever since he first told his friends about his regression a few days ago. Not because he hasn't wanted to regress—he definitely has—but his busy schedule has gotten in the way every time.

As he feels himself slipping younger and younger, stinging tears finally start welling in his eyes. He is just so tired and frustrated with the stupid video, wanting nothing more than for George to hold him close and take care of him. He whines again, kicking his feet against his chair to express how he's feeling. Small. But more than anything: hungry.

George smiles at him and coos, "There's my little boy." Dream blushes and taps his feet again, tearing his gaze away from the other shyly. "Should we go get you some food?" He continues gently, bending down so the little can no longer avoid their eye contact.

It takes a few moments for the words to make sense in his mind, but when they do, Dream perks up instantly. "A 'nack?" He mumbles, gaining an enthusiastic nod in response.

"You want a snack?"

Dream nods his head and reaches for the brunet's hands, lips tugging up into a sheepish smile once he gets to hold both of them.

"Alright sweetheart, let's go to the kitchen." George stands up, followed suit by Dream who keeps a firm hold on one of the brunet's hands the whole way to the kitchen. He also makes sure to not let there be more than a few inches between them as they walk, refusing to be anything but as close as possible to George.

In their bright kitchen, George helps him sit on one of the cushioned bar stools. Dream immediately realizes the fun of spinning around on it, doing so repeatedly until the brunet kindly asks him to stop— "You'll feel sick, darling."