George knew Dream would be excited to see him. Truth be told, he's been anxious to see Dream too. He was supposed to stay in London until the end of February, come back to celebrate Sapnap's birthday, and then go to LA and stay with Larray for those last few weeks while the renovations wrapped up.

Damn it though, George just couldn't wait. He misses hearing Dream's voice in person. He missed Dream's arms around him.

He missed Dream's lips on his own.

And other things.

But yeah, the moment George walks through the door and sets his suitcase next to the kitchen island, limbs weary from an eight hour flight in economy class because first class had been filled, it becomes very obvious that Dream missed him just as much.

Probably more.

"George!" Dream runs up to him, sliding on the tile floor and nearly crashing into the refrigerator behind him. George can't help but giggle at Dream's case of the "George zoomies" as he calls them.

Dream laughs a little bit too as he wraps George in a crushing hug, and it's music to George's ears.

That is, until Dream stops both of their laughter with hot lips pressed eagerly against his own.

"George," Dream pulls away for a fraction of a second to whisper against George's lips. "God, I missed you so much."

"Yeah... I can tell," George manages to say before Dream kisses him again and again and again.

Firm hands squeeze his waist, then slide lower, dip back behind his knees and hoist George up into his arms before setting him on the countertop.

"Dream," George mumbles against Dream's lips. "You know there are more comfortable places to do this. The sofa is right over... Wait, where is the sofa?"

"In the garage." Dream pushes George back a little and then climbs up onto the countertop, pushing aside papers that flutter to the ground. "Painters are coming tomorrow."

"Ok, then what about your room?" George keens when Dream nuzzles into his neck and peppers every inch with kisses.

"Patches was in there with me," Dream quickly explains. "And you surprised me so I didn't have time to clean."

"The daybed in your office?"

"George," Dream's voice turns serious as he leans closer, planting one hand on the countertop behind George while Dream presses the other into George's thigh. "I have a meeting in fifteen minutes and I'd love to have a proper reunion but this is all I have time for."

"Oh," George says, breath hitching in his throat as he braces himself with one arm and reaches with the other to cup Dream's stubbled jaw. He looks up into Dream's eyes, into green pools filled with longing, with raw desire, with shut up and kiss me already.

So he does.

And when they've kissed each other enough – more than enough actually – Dream carries George up the stairs to his new room, lays him on his bed and kisses him once more, long and slow, and with the promise of more, before leaving to go to his meeting.

A meeting that Dream leaves after only five minutes because George sent him a rather suggestive text that Dream couldn't ignore.

An hour later, after they had a proper reunion and are laying in George's bed, limbs tangled and bodies practically fused together, Dream gently kisses George's forehead and George lifts his chin to connect their lips once more.

"Now that's what I call a proper welcome." George says, sneaking one more kiss before he snuggles even closer.

"You know," Dream muses, running his fingers through George's hair. "I think you're right. This was better than the kitchen countertop. Way better."

"Told you."

George misses Dream. Which is funny considering they live in the same house. Although lately, they may as well be on other sides of the ocean again.

Goodness knows he talked to Dream more when he was in London.

Not to say he hasn't tried to get Dream's attention a few times. Last week he invited Dream to go thrifting with him. He had an absolutely brilliant idea of them picking out sweaters for each other. Sweaters they could wear if Dream came to London with him for Christmas this year. Or if they decided to book a cabin in the mountains somewhere for another dream team Christmas stream like they did back in 2022.

The fans deserved that.

George deserved that.

Dream agreed at first. George stood in the doorway of his office and watched Dream put the reminder in his phone.

And then he forgot. 

Today though, today George has a plan. He found out from Dream's mom about his doctor’s appointment (Dream used to tell him that stuff on his own, and yeah maybe George is a little ticked off that he doesn't anymore). She’s been texting him with updates all morning, and George has never been more thankful for his friendship with her. 

His phone dings with a text and he opens it with a smile. They're leaving the clinic now, so Dream will be home in thirty minutes, with a brand new cast that George is definitely going to sign first. And after that, he's going to turn Dream back around into the garage, drag him into his car if he has to, and take him out for sushi.

Not a date - at least not unless that's what Dream wants. Just some much needed quality time with his best friend. 

A soft mew sounds from his feet and George looks down to see Milo, peeing on his foot. 

“Milo!” He screams, scaring the cat away, then shakes his foot, face twisted in disgust.

Guess he'll have to take a quick shower - after he locks that terror of a cat in Sapnap's office.

Twenty minutes later, George is showered, dressed in clothes that are slightly nicer than his usual. He's standing at the door, bouncing on his feet just like Dream did before they met in person for the first time. In his hand - a blue sharpie. The clicky kind, so he doesn't have to bother with a cap (seriously, whoever invented these is a freaking genius.)

A roll of tires on gravel, an opening of a car door, familiar footsteps and then the turning of the doorknob before him. 

“George!” Dream's face brightens the moment he opens the door. “What’s up?”

George rolls his eyes, then nudges Dream's shoes and shakes his head. Dream leaves them alone and gives George a shrug of indifference.

“First things first,” he presents the pen and clicks on the top. “Your arm - give it here so I can be the first one to sign your new cast.”

“Sure,” Dream grins, a spark of mischief in his eyes as he pulls his arm out from behind his back.

Immediately George's eyes narrow at the bright blue cast before him. “What the… this isn't funny, Dream.”

“Actually,” Dream presses his lips together, obviously suppressing laughter. “I think it is funny.”

“But how am I supposed to sign your cast now?” George can’t help but pout, indignant at this turn of events.

“With this, idiot,” Dream pulls a black sharpie out of his pocket and pressed it into George's hand, letting the touch linger for just a few moments longer than necessary.

A flush spreads up George's neck and into his cheeks. If he didn't know any better, he'd think Dream knew about his plans in advance. Which would mean…

“She told me, you know,” Dream’s voice is softer than usual when he pulls his hand away, leaving the pen in George's palm. “About your plans for tonight.”

“Oh,” George's shoulders slump, and he hastily scribbles his name on the hard shell of blue around Dream's forearm. “So I'm guessing you're gonna -”

Dream cuts him off with a finger to his lips, accompanied by a soft smile that George knows all too well.

Damn it, he misses that smile.

“I'm sorry I bailed on your plans to go thrifting last week, George.” he says. “Really I am. And I wanna make it up to you.”

“How?” he mumbles against Dream's finger.

“Well,” Dream pulls his finger away and instantly George misses it. “First, I'm thinking we order takeout from your favorite sushi place, and we have a little picnic in the living room. Just us.”

“Sounds nice,” George nods, gesturing for Dream to continue. “And what else?”

Dream steps closer, close enough that George can smell his cologne. It's the stuff from the green bottle - the kind that makes George weak in the knees when Dream wears it around him. He swallows and looks up into viridian irises, just as Dream's uninjured hand rests on George's waist. Dream squeezes, just a little before taking another step to close the distance between them.

“I was thinking,” Dream whispers, minty breath swirling in the small amount of air between them, “that we can watch a movie. Cuddle together on the sofa. Or maybe in my room, in my bed.”

George swallows again, and takes a chance to match Dream's boldness because why the hell not? 

“Your bed?” George replies, then reaches to place his hands on Dream's waist, earning a pleased shiver and a smile to match. “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you had plans other than watching a movie.”

Dream's gaze softens further, more serious as he lifts his cast-wrapped hand to tip George's chin up an inch. “Maybe I do,” Dream whispers, barely louder than a breath. “I've missed you George. So much.”

George’s heart hammers in his chest. This couldn't be real, could it? “Dream, I -”

“Just, let me finish,” Dream interrupts him. “When I was talking to my mom, it wasn't just about your plans for tonight. I told her how I feel about you. And she told me how you feel… about me. About us. How much you've missed spending time with me. It made me realize how much I've taken you for granted. And I never want you to feel that way. I never want you to feel anything less than loved by me.”

“Dream…”

His gaze flicks to George's lips, eyes shining with an unspoken plea. “Can I kiss you?”

George can't do anything other than nod, words stuck in his throat, trapped by the disbelief that this is actually happening. 

And then, less than a second later, Dream leans in to brush soft lips against his own. It's brief, far more chaste than George expected, but still, it's absolutely perfect.

When Dream pulls back, the glint in his eyes tells George that was just the beginning. That there's plenty more - so much more - to come.

And just like that, George doesn't miss Dream anymore. He's home - finally - in his life, in his arms.

Right where they both belong.

Dream hates being bored.

It's been that way for as long as he can remember, from long car rides accented with whines of “are we there yet?” to rainy days at OU games, impatiently waiting for overtime to end so he could go somewhere warm and dry.

Now, sitting on the sofa at his parents’ house with one of their cats curled up on his lap, that nagging feeling rears its ugly head again.

And then, that night (or rather that morning) in his office with his best friend, Dream beat the game in 16 minutes. He can still remember the euphoria that surged through his veins – traces of it linger even now.

The worst part about it is that this time there's so much he wants to do. He desperately needs to be sitting in front of a computer, either perfecting yet another line of code so he can finally get the Titan SMP up and running (soon, he tells himself for the hundredth time), or speedrunning to see if he can get his time under 15 minutes.

He was close that last time, too. After his pre-surgery stream, Dream did one more run while George watched from the daybed in his office. Dream was extra careful too, to not get any advancements George hadn't gotten yet, even if he wanted to drop a few hints here and there.

How could he forget the way George leapt off the daybed and into his arms? How could he forget the way they'd spun around until they both got dizzy?

And Dream knew without a doubt that he’d never forget the way they both stared at each other when they stopped spinning. The intensity with which they focused on each other's eyes, green drawn to brown through an almost magnetic force. And then, the subtle drop of George's gaze to Dream's lips, the way George's lips parted just enough to whisper Dream's name.

Then came the knock on the door, shattering the moment forever.

Dream sighed, his mind lingering on the memory, even if that's all it could ever be. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, and for a brief moment he wondered what would have happened if no one had knocked on that door.

Would George have kissed him?

Dream would like to think so, at least in a perfect world without complications.

“Clay?” Mom's bright voice interrupted his thoughts and Dream opened his eyes to see her walking into the living room. “You have a visitor.”

He didn't even have to look to know who it was. Mom only talked that way – used that tone of voice – when talking about only one person.

Dream's heart lifted and a soft smile lifted the corners of his mouth as George walked around the corner.

“Hey, idiot,” George said, that goofy grin on his face that Dream couldn't help smiling at. “How's it going?”

“Awful,” Dream rolled his eyes. “But better now.”

“Well, I should hope so,” George approached the sofa and sat beside him, just close enough that their thighs touched and the cat jumped onto the floor. “Your sister texted me, several times actually. Practically begged me to come over and entertain you so you'd stop whining about how bored you are.”

Dream rolled his eyes again. “I was not whining.”

“Was too!” Drista shouted from the stairs.

George laughed and Dream couldn't help mirror it. That's just how contagious George's laughter was.

“So,” Dream gave him a nudge. “What do you have planned?”

“Well,” George replied. “I thought maybe we could watch Spiderman together. I know it's your favorite. Or if you'd rather watch something else, that's fine too. Your pick.”

“Um,” Dream's shoulders sagged a little. “I've watched so many movies lately, I'm getting sick of them.”

“Really?” George tilted his head. “Even Spiderman?”

“Even Spiderman, if you can believe it.”

“Wow,” George pressed his palms into his thighs and rocked forward, then back. “Well, it's a good thing I brought something you haven't seen yet.”

“What do you mean?” Dream leaned his uninjured elbow on his knee, curiosity piqued.

“Wait right here,” here rose to his feet and walked out of the room, leaving Dream longing for his return more than he thought he would.

What seemed like an eternity later, George walked back in, his laptop case slung over his shoulder.

Dream sighed and rolled his eyes yet again. He was going to get a headache at this rate. “George, if you're going to ask me to help you edit your videos…”

“I'm not, idiot,” George sat beside him, then pulled the laptop out and set it between them, half on his left thigh and half on Dream's right. “I actually finished one. And I wanted to show you.”

Dream stared at him in disbelief. “You… you finished editing one of your videos? Which one?”

“The happy ghast one,” George smiled. “My fans asked about that one most. Well, back when I was still reading chat, that is. To be honest, that's the one I had the most fun filming.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dream rubbed the back of his rapidly warming neck. “It felt like old times, like when we made all those videos when you were in England. Except now…”

“Now I'm here,” George finished.

“Yeah.”

Another pause lingered between them, broken this time by a clearing of George's throat before he pulled up the video and hit play.

Three hours later, they both lay on the sofa together, George pressed comfortably against his side. The laptop whirred, warmth seeping through the blanket that covered them.

After watching George's video, they'd opened up YouTube, watching old videos they'd done together years ago, laughing at what idiots they both were.

And Dream didn't know when or how they both ended up cuddled so close, but he wished it would never end, even if it meant his wrist never healed. It had been far too long since they'd done something like this together. The thought of having to wait just as long to spend time like this with George again made something in his chest twist uncomfortably.

George, ever observant, closed the laptop and set it on the floor before turning to face him. “You okay?” he asked. “You seem a little tense. Your wrist doesn't hurt, does it? I can go sit somewhere else if you'd like.”

“No,” Dream shook his head. “Please stay. I missed this. Missed you.”

“Yeah?” Warmth flooded George's cheeks and what could only be a hopeful smile turned up the corners of George's lips.

Dream nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, I suppose I missed you too,” George rolled his eyes a little, smile growing wider while he gave Dream a little nudge. “But I'm kind of thirsty. I'm gonna go get a drink of water, and I'll be right back.

“No,” Dream pleaded, chest tightening in desperation as he reached out to wrap his hand around George's wrist. “Stay. Please.”

“Dream,” George chuckled while he gave his wrist a little tug. “I'm going to die of thirst if you don't let me go.”

“George,” Dream whispered, and maybe it was the tone of his voice or the desperation that Dream knew must be shining in his eyes, but George paused. His face slowly grew more serious, and there it was again, the same look that had been in George's eyes last week. The question shining in espresso irises, waiting for an answer.

Dream closed his eyes for a moment, praying to whatever higher power may or may not exist that they wouldn't be interrupted again. He wanted to know what could happen.

He needed to know what could happen.

“Dream,” George's voice made Dream open his eyes, and he felt George's fingers slot between his own. Carefully he lifted the other, bandaged hand and placed a small kiss on the fingers that peeked through.

A small, gentle squeeze, a subtle nod, and they both leaned in.

Lips brushed with a single sweet kiss that Dream swore healed him from the inside out more than any amount of surgery or rest ever could. It was the medicine he didn't know he needed, medicine that George willingly gave with each additional press of soft lips against his. And it was infused with the promise of so much more when Dream was healed enough to kiss him back properly, to hold him with two arms instead of just one.

But all in all, it was perfect.

Several minutes of slow, lazy kisses later – so many kisses that Dream lost count – they both separated, pressing their foreheads together.

“George?” Dream whispered into the tender silence between them.

“Yeah?” George chased his lips with one more kiss that Dream couldn't help smiling against.

Maybe he should become a weatherman, or one of those tornado chasers. That college in Oklahoma where Dream went to all of his football games supposedly had one of the best meteorology programs in the country. Maybe they'd let him ride along on a tornado chasing excursion.

That would be epic.

Fascinating.

If only mum saw it that way.

"What do you mean there was a tornado warning there and you wanted to go outside?" her worried voice sounded over the line, more strained than a few minutes earlier when she'd been sharing with him the news of his family and the few school friends he still kept in touch with back in London.

George winced. He really should have known better than to mention that, especially on Mothering Sunday of all days.

"I'm fine," he reassured her. "I was fine and I'm still fine. Dream protected me."

As if on cue, Dream opened the door into his room - their room - and mouthed hello, waving while he approached the bed and reached to tickle George's onesie-covered feet. George pulled them back, wrinkling his nose playfully at his fiancé.

"Dream says hi, mum," he said, sliding over a bit to make room for Dream behind him.

"Tell him thank you for keeping you safe from yourself," she replied and George could practically hear her eyes rolling at him.

"Your welcome," Dream wrapped his arms around George from behind and pulled him close, resting his chin on George's shoulder. "He can be an idiot sometimes, but I'll never let him do anything too crazy."

"That's good," she sighed. "Georgie needs to be extra careful now, especially with his precious cargo."

"Of course, mum," they both replied in unison, and a pleasant warmth spread through George's chest at that simple word coming from Dream's lips.

Mum.

She'd be his mum too, soon enough.

Mum to them and Nan to the little baby girl who'd be born this summer.

"I'll let you go then," Mum said, stifling a yawn. "It's getting late here. Thanks for calling though. Miss you and love you!"

"Miss you too," George replied, eyes glazing over with fresh tears that he knew Dream would wipe away. He wished he could celebrate Mothering Sunday with her in person, but a phone call was the next best thing until he could see her again.

Dream gave George a quick peck on the cheek, then turned towards the phone. "And Happy Mother's Day to you!"

"Thank you, sweetheart," Mum's voice held the familiar softness that Dream's voice just brought out in everyone he spoke to. "And goodnight."

"Goodnight," George echoed. "Love you."

And with that he disconnected the call, set down the phone and rolled over to face Dream. Pink cheeks and sparkling green eyes greeted him and George didn't hesitate to wrap his arms and legs around Dream, pulling him close.

"Your mum really loves me, doesn't she?" Dream wrapped his own arms around George and pulled him in, placing a lingering kiss on the top on his head.

"Everyone loves you," George quipped with a playful roll of his eyes. "You're like, irresistible."

Dream shrugged, almost imperceptibly, and George snuggled in as close as he could with his growing belly in the way. He sighed against Dream's chest, perfectly content and at peace for the first time all day.

"Aren't you warm?" Dream whispered into George's curls. "I thought you said that minion onesie was too warm the other day."

"it's warm when I have clothes underneath, idiot," George replied, as if it were completely normal to go commando under a minion onesie.

"Oh?" Dream pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. "So you're saying if I pull down this zipper..."

"Naked as a jaybird." George grinned.

Dream grinned back, toying with the zipper pull just a bit. He pulled it down an inch to expose George's chest and then stopped.

"What'd you stop for?" George gave him a little nudge.

"Eh," Dream shrugged again. "As tempting as it is, I kind of just want to cuddle for now."

"Hmm," George hummed. "I think I can get on board with that. For now."

With that he snuggled closer again, burying his face into the familiar nook where Dream's shoulder met his neck - soft, warm and home.

Another rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, and then -

"George," Dream pulled away with a start, then lay one hand on George's belly. "I just... I just felt the baby kick!"

"Wait really?" George couldn't help the smile that stretched across his face. "It's not just me that can feel our little sweet pea anymore? You can too?'

"Yeah," Dream nodded, rubbing his thumbs over the soft fabric that covered George's stomach while his eyes glazed over with tears of awe. "She seems to like thunderstorms. Just like her Daddy of course."

"We're going to have so much fun chasing tornadoes together," George joked.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Dream pulled him closer, giving a little sigh of contentment when their baby kicked again.