dnf and a late night
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Dream falls asleep eventually, the way he always does when George gives him back rubs. Or cuddles him in any way, really.
George can tell by the way his breathing evens out, going all slow and warm in George's neck where Dream is snuggled.
They've only been lying down for about half an hour, finally winding down for the night. George has been idly scrolling tiktok with his free hand, sending the funniest ones to Sapnap and more to Dream for him to watch when he's more awake.
Right now, though, he needs rest.
George gets it. He likes nights like these, too; quiet ones where it's just him and Dream, and neither of them needs to say anything because they just know.
George knows that Dream needs him sometimes. Exactly like this. A place to turn his brain off and relax into something soft.
George hopes he never, ever stops asking for it.
He kisses Dream's head then, giving into the urge. Then again. Twice more, to be exact.
His phone turns off with a click, and George takes a deep breath, scratching his fingertips down the line of Dream's back one last time before pulling his shirt back down from where it was pushed up to his shoulders.
Dream's arms are looped so securely around George's waist that George is sure his hands must be going numb from being pressed between his back and the mattress.
Not that Dream would notice now that he's asleep like a little idiot. A cute one, maybe, but still an idiot.
George touches his lips to the small patch of exposed skin on Dream's shoulder, trying to gently wake him.
Predictably, Dream doesn't stir at all, not even when George gives a light pinch to his side.
So he resorts to combing through the tangles in Dream's hair instead. Not being rough, of course, but tugging just a little.
"Dream," he says quietly. "'s time to wake up, baby."
Finally, a reaction. Dream rubs his cheek on George's collar, humming sleepily.
"Let's go to bed," George says. "Can't sleep here all night."
For a moment, it seems like Dream has already gone back to sleep — until he shakes his head.
George rolls his eyes fondly, detangling another small knot. "Knew you'd do that."
"Mm let's jus' stay here, 's okay."
The grip around his waist tightens as Dream says it, and George sighs at his familiar stubbornness.
"We're not sleeping in your office bed, Dream," he counters, still smiling. "'n you're not sleeping in those clothes, either, you'll regret it tomorrow. Come on, love."
Still being stubborn, Dream only turns his head and buries his face in George's neck.
"Won't hate it," he mumbles, though he doesn't sound all that convinced.
George says nothing, only because he knows that Dream knows George is right — Dream hates waking up in his day clothes.
"Dreamie," George hums, weaving a dark blond curl between his fingers.
Reluctantly and with a grumble, Dream untucks his face and opens his eyes.
You're perfect, George thinks, looking at him, and he almost says it out loud until Dream beats him to it.
"You're annoying," Dream says, frowning cutely. Like a puppy. "The only way 'm going to bed is if you carry me."
George grins. "Deal."
Dream clearly can't help but smile back, and just because he can, George dips down and kisses him right as he does, landing it halfway on Dream's teeth.
It makes Dream twist away from him, laughing. "You– George, what was that!"
George only smiles, his eyes glinting.
Dream settles again, holding himself up above George on his forearms now.
"You're gross," he says, but it's all soft with no bite.
"You're gross," George quips and despite the words, Dream smiles.
He butts their foreheads together. "My room or yours?"
"Yours," George says without thinking, letting himself become the sleepy one, now.
And Dream nods, pecks George on the lips, and finally, they're off to bed.
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