dream definitely has a "george voice"
- ❀ -
It's eleven pm and Dream is standing by the stove making food for George because George asked him to.
... Dream is an idiot sometimes.
An idiot who, famously, is completely incapable of saying no to George. It doesn't matter if it's the crack of dawn, the middle of the night, or like right now, eleven pm on a work night – Dream's answer will always be yes.
"I'm hungry," George had said upon entering Dream's office earlier, all soft and tired and huggable. And then he looked at Dream with his big, brown eyes and asked, "Make me something?"
And so, here Dream is, boiling spaghetti in one pot and stirring together George's favorite pasta sauce in another.
He starts smiling as soon as he hears the sound of light footsteps on the stairs behind him.
George is like a cat in the way he walks around almost soundlessly; always so gentle.
Dream can always hear him coming, though. He supposes he is always listening for George in some way.
"Hey," George says upon entering the kitchen.
Dream smiles just from that. Smitten , is the word that comes to mind. "Hey, George."
There's a soft scoff from the brunet as he walks closer. "Stop using your stupid Patches voice on me."
"I'm not!" Dream tries, though he suspects his grin gives him away.
George comes up next to him, pressing into Dream's side to get a look at what is so diligently being cooked for him.
"You definitely are, though," he says.
Dream elbows him lightly to get him out of his space. "This is just my George voice," he counters.
He is all too aware of how sappy his voice goes whenever he talks to George, like every part of him automatically softens up in his presence.
The same thing happens when he talks to Patches, for that matter, which– now that he thinks about it, may not be so much of a coincidence after all.
"Alright, say more things then," George presses, his curiosity obviously getting the better of him.
Dream drops the wooden spoon he was holding and turns to face his friend fully, leaning back on the counter, one eyebrow raised in amusement.
"You want me to say more things in my George voice?"
"Yeah," George replies easily, and there's this glint in his eyes that says I dare you .
Dream blinks at him, cogs turning in his head as he tries his hardest to find something to say – something funny, he thinks, something totally unexpected that will make George laugh.
But in the end, the words that end up tumbling out were the ones already on the tip of his tongue. Words that perhaps are always near the forefront of his mind when it comes to George;
"I love you."
He swallows and hopes George doesn't notice how nervous he suddenly feels out of nowhere.
To his relief, though, George just smiles and shakes his head, "I knew you were gonna say that."
"Yeah," Dream smiles, letting out a breath. "Obviously."
He lets his hands drift out to George's sides and uses his light grasp to pull George toward himself, not even really sure what he's trying to do.
The line between them is so blurry at this point that it's hard to know exactly what's okay and what's too far. Dream wants George closer – is that okay?
George doesn't resist, though, an unreadable look in his eyes as Dream pulls him closer, closer until he's standing between the blond's legs.
"Dream," he says, and once again, there is something in his voice that Dream can't quite pinpoint.
"Hm?"
A tentative smile plays on George's lips. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," Dream's eyes flit up to George's again, and he can't help but smile, too. "I mean I'm... making you food like you asked me to?"
George considers him for a moment before he breathes out a laugh and drops his forehead onto Dream's shoulder.
His voice is slightly muffled when he says, "You could've said no, you know."
"Well, I didn't," Dream noses at soft curls. Then quieter, "I like making you happy."
George bats at his chest in light protest. "Stop, idiot."
"Stop what?"
"Being an idiot, maybe?"
Dream laughs then, hugging George a little tighter.
George is still smiling when he lifts his head to look at Dream again, or more accurately: Stare at him. That thoughtful, undefinable look hasn't disappeared from his eyes.
Dream swallows. "The uh, the pasta's almost done," he says dumbly, completely distracted by their proximity; dark brown eyes drinking him in.
"Okay," George breathes, and in the next moment he is surging forward, and in the next –
Dream's eyes flutter shut as a pair of lips crash into his, feeling all the air rush out of his lungs. Because those are George's lips pressed to his.
George is kissing him.
The world halts for a second before it slowly starts back up again, easing into it like the wheels on a steam locomotive, going faster and faster.
Dream cups George's face with both hands and kisses him back with all the sincerity he can muster. It's fireworks and bursting hearts and everything he has ever dreamed it would be.
George's lips are soft and warm, and although this is the first time Dream has felt them against his own, nothing has ever felt so much like home .
He can't keep the grin off his face, especially when George starts to giggle against his lips, completely messing up their rhythm.
Dream thinks: I love you more than anything.
It's impossible to keep kissing when both of them are just smiling like idiots, though their faces stay close even after they pull away.
"What was that for?" Dream asks him, equal parts thrilled and surprised.
George's smile lights up every perfect feature on his face, making his eyes crease and his eyes shine.
He shrugs and echoes Dream's response from earlier, "Nothing."
"Again," Dream says, dropping his hands back down to George's waist and pulling him closer so they're flush together.
George's smile widens at the challenge, "I did it first."
Dream dips down again and reconnects their lips without a moment's hesitation.
- ❀ -
dream feeds george his pasta right after this btw. because george asks him to <3
