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Dream wakes up with a smack to his face and thrashing on the sofa. George is dead asleep but his body writhes and twitches like he’s in pain.
“George,” Dream shakes him awake. “George, you’re having a nightmare.” His words are merely a whisper but he hopes that it gets to George under the heavy sleep he’s fallen into.
Dream shakes his shoulder again, attempting to wake him up, when George bolts up in bed, panting and heaving. His eyes are wild, hair everywhere. He looks a lot like a firework unraveling.
“George, it’s me. It’s Dream, you were having a nightmare,” he reminds him. When the day has tired him out, Sleep is unkind to George. It will give him sleep paralysis, restless nights, and at worst, night terrors. Sometimes it gets really bad, waking up Dream from where he fell asleep that night. Sometimes, his night terrors leave him disoriented for hours, unable to tell between reality and slumber.
His hand settles against the blade of his shoulder, rubbing up and down.
“Dream?”
“Yeah, baby.” He’s not awake enough to bite back the name. Dream gathers George in his arms, lips falling against his temple. “It’s just us. We fell asleep on the sofa.”
“Had a nightmare,” he informs.
“Yeah, you did. Nearly gave me a black eye.”
George is still groggy from the sleep. He’s cotton-eyed and hazy when he turns in Dream’s grip and plants a kiss square on his cheek. It burns him from the inside out.
“Sorry,” he says, then rests their foreheads together. Dream is silent throughout it all content to be on the receiving end of George’s penance, however unneeded.
“No need for sorry,” he reassures him. Dream wraps his arms around his shoulders. “Want to talk about it?”
George shakes his head no and they leave it at that.
Except it happens again.
The next night, George wakes both of them up with a blood-curdling scream. Dream rushes from his office, having fallen asleep there after working for too long. He thanks whatever god is out there that he had left his door open.
Dream gathers him in his arms as soon as he sees him. George is stiff in his arms, trembles wracking his body.
Sapnap bursts into the room next, eyes bleary and panic settled against his skin.
“It’s okay, we’re fine,” Dream says. He doesn’t know who his words are for anymore. George shakes and shudders, curling up into his body. “Just a nightmare.”
Sapnap deflates, all the fight leaving his body. “Jesus,” he mutters. “You guys okay?”
“We’ll be fine,” Dream says. George is still panting against him.
He nods, trusting his friend to know what’s good for them. Sapnap leaves their room, shutting the door behind him.
Tears fall down George’s cheeks immediately, trusting himself to let go in front of Dream. It’s enough to almost get him to cry as well.
“Wanna talk about it?”
George is sniffling, nose upturned into his neck, breathing him in. “It’s stupid.”
“Oh, come on,” he says. “It’s me. It’s us. You know that doesn’t matter, not when it makes you this upset. What did you dream about, hmm?”
He seems to contemplate this for a minute, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks stained by his sadness. “It was about you.”
“Me?”
“You died.”
It’s a shocking thing to hear but Dream squares his shoulders and runs his hand up and down George’s arm. “I’m right here,” he reassures him.
George pays him no mind. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. All that talk about you dying the other day on Squidcraft got to me. I keep seeing you, this you, like, eyes closed and bloodied, I just– I don’t even want to talk about it, Dream. It’s making me upset.”
“Oh, George,” Dream whispers. “My George, it’s okay. I’m fine. I’m alive, see?” Dream takes George’s hands in his and lays it over his chest. He makes himself aware of his breathing, how fast his heart is beating. He wills George to feel the life flowing inside of him. “I’m okay, baby.” This time he lets the sweet name fall freely from his lips.
George collapses against him, forehead coming down to the very center of his chest. Dream wonders if he can feel his heart beat. “I know. It felt real though. In my dream, I mean.”
There’s this pressing need to squeeze George until he’s compressed and compact into a ball, small enough to fit in his pocket, or on a chain around his neck. He settles for kissing the crown of his head, lips coming into contact with hair.
“Your Dream?” he teases, because he is. And as long as he’s here, George will be fine. He needs him to be fine. Needs George to be far away from where any nightmare can touch him.
“Idiot.” his hand strikes his chest, much like a cat pawing away an annoying hand would. “You’re so stupid.”
Dream flattens his hand across his hair. “You should get some rest.”
“Dunno if I can.”
Dream hums. “Want me to stay with you?”
He nods against his chest. “Yes, please.”
George sleeps peacefully in his arms until morning comes.
Dream has 5 bottles of lavender mist in his cart right now. His mom used to spray it on his pillows if he was way too wound up from the day to get a good night’s sleep. He knows George takes melatonin if he needs it, but he always wake up after it groggy and with lead in his bones, limbs dragging as he moves. Often he would tell Dream about the crazy dream melatonin gave him, or how creepy sleep paralysis was when you’re that sleepy. So, lavender aromatherapy it is.
He’s about to buy it when George knocks on his door.
“Dream?” He calls out from outside.
He scrambles to open the door, feet getting caught on the cords by his floor. He rights himself before he can faceplant. Dream takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. It’s just George, he thinks.
“What’s up?” He asks, opening the door.
“I’m going to bed,” George informs him.
“Okay,” he says.
“It’s bedtime,” he repeats.
Dream can’t figure out what game his best friend is playing but he goes along with it. “Good night. Uh, sleep well?”
George’s shoulders drop and he lets out a sigh. “I’m asking you to sleep with me.”
If this were a cartoon Dream was certain there would be a cutscene to his brain, showcasing all the gears grinding to a halt. Maybe he’d fill up red, or have hearts for eyes. “You want me to sleep with you?”
He bites his lip, thinking. “I don’t want to have nightmares again.”
Dream can feel his heart expanding out of his body, taking shape and running away from him. “Of course, George. Let me finish this one thing then I’ll be right over.”
George nods. He looks a breadth away from collapsing, bags under his eyes and tired from his energy being on high all day.
Dream goes back to his computer, adds a lavender balm, oil, and lotion to his cart, then clicks on check out for all of it.
They get ready for bed side by side. Dream brought his toothbrush to George’s bathroom. His soap, cleansers, and lotions line the edge of the counter. Dream’s elbow touches George on each stroke against his teeth. They catch each other’s eyes in the mirror. The moment seems fragile, like they’re the ones stuck on the wrong side of the mirror.
When they’re turning in for bed, Dream watches as George tucks himself under the covers, leaving space for him.
“Get in, idiot.” His words sound harsh but Dream can taste the undercurrent of worry underneath it. He wants so badly to be able to help George with this, to rid him of any nightmare, anything that lies to him. Because Dream will not die. He will live forever, happy and strong, just so George will never have to experience a life without him ever again. 20 years alone was hell. 7 years across the ocean was even worse. Dream is determined to give him now until forever.
He scurries into bed, almost giddy with the action. His toes touch the calves on George’s legs and he has to pull away before he finds his entire body pressed up against George, heart seeking out warmth.
George sighs in the dark. Dream is hit with this sorrow of having known him too late. He wishes he was there when he was young, to have grown up right beside him. He resents the years they spent apart; to him it’s time wasted. Even the gap between their ages feels too much. George was alive in the world without him, he was breathing in air and letting out sighs with Dream nowhere to be found, not even a country away. It all feels so unfair he can’t help but pull George into his chest.
I was born for you, he thinks.
His packages come a few days later. George immediately wants to know what it is.
He gives it to George to open. He knows that this is George telling him I want to know everything about you.
“Lavender?” he asks, holding up the bottle. The afternoon air has this foggy feel to it, almost like nothing is real. But the heat of the sun is curling around George’s hair and his smile strikes deep into his heart right where he loves him so Dream thinks this has to be real.
“It’s supposed to help you sleep.”
His face falls. It’s worrying. Dream wonders if George doesn’t want to talk about it or if it’s something else.
“I was thinking, we’d spray my pillows before bed so you won’t have to take melatonin anymore. I know you don’t like how it makes you feel. Plus, you know, the fucked up dreams you get from it,” Dream explains.
“Your pillows?” George sounds astounded, almost.
“Yeah? Or we could mist the blankets if you want. It’s best on the pillows, though.”
“Oh,” he realizes. “I thought you were kicking me out.”
Dream laughs because it’s funny that George would even think him possible of that. He wraps his arm around his shoulders and kisses his temple because it breaks his heart that George thought of it in the first place. “Don’t be stupid,” is all he can say.
George hums against the solidness of Dream’s chest, reading the labels on the mist bottle.
“You want to test it out?” Dream asks.
George is on his feet right away.
The smell isn’t overpowering, nor is it dizzying. It calms the both of them as it wafts around the air in Dream’s room. George is asleep in under 20 minutes. Dream tries to fight it, wanting to watch over George in case something happens, but sleep pulls him under soon enough.
Lavender is a godsend. He mists their bed every night before sleeping. When George is stressed, Dream rubs lavender oil into his temples, willing his headache away with his touch. The lotion melts under their skin on days when the sun is extra harsh. There’s only one problem:
George keeps falling asleep.
Dream noticed it when they were on the sofa, playing with Patches. One minute, George has his head resting against Dream’s lap as he talks to their cat, the next he’s fast asleep.
They’re in the middle of watching a movie and George can’t get past the 20 minute mark.
Early in the morning, when Dream shakes him awake for breakfast, he gets up, walks to the kitchen, buries his face in the crook of Dream’s neck, then falls asleep there as they wait for their food to finish cooking.
George has even fallen asleep in public. They were eating out for dinner, both of them on one side of the booth. It was a busy night so their food took a while to get to their table. George slumps against him and dozes off until the waiter brings their meals.
It’s almost concerning.
“Has George been napping a lot?” he asks Sapnap when he gets him alone.
He frowns, shaking his head. “I don’t think so, why?”
“I dunno, he’s like, always falling asleep when we hang out. You know, yesterday? At the pool?”
“Maybe he’s just tired, man. I don’t know.”
“But he’s sleeping well. I don’t understand how he can be that tired.”
If Sapnap finds it odd that Dream is intimately aware of George’s sleeping habits, he doesn’t make it known. “Dude, I’m sure he’ll tell you if something’s wrong. Don’t worry too much, he’s probably fine.”
“Okay,” he answers. Dream keeps worrying about it.
They’re alone together in Dream’s office when George falls asleep on the bed with Patches.
He doesn’t bother him except to take a quick picture, setting it as his wallpaper.
“Dr’m,” George calls out. Dream double checks to see if he’s actually sleeping.
“Yeah?” he calls out. It’s been a while since he last talked in his sleep.
“Dr’m, the door.”
“I closed it, George.”
“Closed. Okay."
He doesn't say anything else after that but it does get Dream to close up all the programs on his computer and huddle in with George. His skin is warm against his, like fire spreading as they touch. Dream burrows his head into the crook of his neck, breathing deep into the smell of lavender that follows both of them.
He's asleep before he knows it.
When he wakes up, George is sitting up on the bed, legs crossed as Dream snoozed on his lap. His right hand is hidden underneath Dream's hair and his other strokes Patches as she purrs to her heart's content.
"We have to stop falling asleep," Dream yawns.
George smiles at him. A hello, welcome back from sleep. "I know," he agrees. "Can't help it, though. It's like–" his words are interrupted by a yawn.
"Love you," Dream says.
George scoffs. "Idiot."
And as if Patches was listening to them, she yawns, stretching her back as she shakes the sleep away from her body.
"Look," George says. "She loves me."
"She does. Can't believe you've stolen her from me."
"It's not my fault she likes me more," he shrugs. "I'm epic."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I demand shared custody of my child.”
“I’m clearly her favorite dad, look,” he gestures to her with her eyes closed and leaning into George’s touch.
Traitor, he thinks. His two favorite people have teamed up against him. Then his eyes are suddenly drooping, and he wants nothing more than to just fall against George and drag them both to slumber.
“What the fuck,” he says around another yawn. “Why are we so tired?”
“I dunno.”
“Thought it was just you sleeping a lot.”
George scoots down in bed, moving until his head is level with Dream’s. He turns to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes.
“You smell like sleep,” he tells him.
“Like… sleep?”
George groans, not liking that Dream can’t understand his thoughts instantly. “You know the smell. Like when we’re about to fall asleep and you’re kinda awake kinda not. Then you get this smell of, like, I don’t know. You just smell like what it feels like to fall asleep. You know?”
“I dunno.” Dream pulls him close. His face ends up buried in his hair. They lay there in silence, just breathing.
“See,” George explains. He hides his face into Dream’s chest, His voice is muffled the next time he talks. “You smell like sleep right now.”
He breathes in, trying to figure out what George means, but all he can smell is the lavender mist he sprayed on his sheets.
“Do you mean lavender?”
“What?”
“Like, all I can smell right now is the lavender stuff we use. Is that what you mean?”
“But we only use that at night?”
“Yeah, but like, I do mist our sheets after a wash, even these ones in my office. And we use that lavender lotion you like a lot.”
“That’s lavender?”
“What? George. The bottle is literally purple.”
He giggles, sleep almost taking over. “Thought it was blue.”
“Wait, wait,” Dream shakes him. “Are you telling me the reason why you keep falling asleep when we hang out is because I smell like lavender?”
“It’s not my fault! It clings to your clothes and everything. And how was I supposed to know that you use it on literally everything at every second of the day! I thought it was just during our night routine.”
They laugh together, chest pressed so close they’re sharing breaths. “Well,” he says, catching his breath. “At least you don’t dream anymore.”
“I still do,” he corrects him. “It’s nicer now, though.”
Dream settles against him. “That’s good. Do you still need to sleep with me then?”
George looks at him, like he’s wondering if Dream really did just ask him that. “No,” he says.
He prepares himself for the heartache, that he’ll never get to have this with George again. But George wraps his arms around his torso, lips pressing along the column of his neck.
“But I want to,” he says. “Don’t take this away from us. We’re good, right?”
“Yeah,” he nods, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Real good.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
He tilts his head up to speak right into his ear. “Are you gonna kiss me now?”
Dream almost shivers against him, not immune to the effect George has on boys like him. “Do you want me to?”
“Don’t be stupid, please Dream,” he whines. Annoyed because he knows that Dream knows he wants it.
“Fine, fine,” Dream chuckles. “I’ll kiss you,” he leans in.
“If you insist!” He leans back to talk. George fixes him with a glare and he’s leaning in again.
“Only if you really, really want me to, like, actually,” he interrupts. Again.
“Fuck off,” George laughs, impatient and wanting. He grabs at Dream’s face, dragging him into a kiss. It’s their first kiss but it feels like they’ve done this a million times over. Dream leans into it, lips brushing against each other as his heart beats out of rhythm. This is them, at their core, falling asleep one minute and falling into kisses the next.
It should be a big deal. Now that they’ve finally, finally, figured it out. But it isn’t. It feels so normal, so right. Dream thinks, this is where they would’ve ended up anyway. Nightmares or not, with or without the lavender. So they kiss until they fall asleep. And tomorrow, he’ll wake George up with a kiss just because he can. They’ll nap in the afternoon and sleep through the night and it won’t be a big deal.
Dream | @Dream
when u accidentally condition ur bestie to associate u with sleep and now you cant hang out bc he has a pavlovian response to ur scent :(
| replying to @dreamwastaken
GEORGE | @MrFeralMan
on your main account are you crazy delete this
Dream | @Dream
Guys can you see the private reply on my last tweet
| replying to @dreamwastaken
GEORGE | @MrFeralMan
DELETE !!!! @Dream @Dream @Dream
GEORGE | @MrFeralMan
HE BLOCKED ME???
dream | @dreamwastaken
WWAIT IM SORRY DONT BREAK UP WITH ME @GeorgeNotFound @GeorgeNootFound @MrFeralMan