#juno.fics

God, Dream really envies Sapnap right about now. He'd chosen the perfect time to head to North Carolina to meet up with Karl, flying out the day before the storm had hit. Out of the house at just the right time. Thinking about it, he and George should've just gotten hotel rooms-

"DREAM! Pay attention to me!"

Dream startles a little as George's call catpults him out of his head. Sighing, he leans forward to close the email he'd been reading, before spinning the chair around to face George, grimacing at the feeling of his shirt sticking to his lower back. It's not like he'd been able to concentrate, anyway.

The room is just a little too warm, even with the fan on and the blinds down. It's dim, but the burning sun still finds it's way through the angled slats, painting thin lines of light on the floor and up along the walls. George is sprawled out on the bed, in shorts and a wrinkled shirt, head turned and eyes lazily fixed on Dream.

There's a sliver of skin where his shirt has ridden up, probably from when he was wriggling around earlier, trying to get comfortable.

Dream melts back into his chair. The room is warm and he is warm and he feels a little sleepy, and his thoughts come slower than usual. For a second he feels like he's wading through honey.

Maybe that's why, when he looks at George, he finds himself getting caught on that strip of bare skin. George gives an amused little cough and Dream rips his eyes away, blinking a few times as he feels warmth flood his cheeks.

There's silence for a few seconds. The fan clicks as it changes directions again.

"Dream."

When he looks back George is looking up at the ceiling. Dream's name rolls of his tongue in the same tone as before, nonchalantly demanding.

"What?"

George doesn't answer. Instead he makes some kind of vague hand movement Dream interprets as 'get over here'.

So he does, peeling himself out of his chair and taking the few steps over to the bed. God, it feels like the heat is worse standing up. He stops next to the bed, looking down at the other.

"What do you want George?" Dream asks. George is still staring at the ceiling. The fan whirrs.

"Get in bed with me."

He says it almost off-handedly, like he's talking about the weather or informing him that they're out of apple juice. The incongruity has Dream's brain playing catch-up as he feels his ears flush red in belated reaction.

"Wh- George!" He laughs, dumbfounded. "Why did you say it like that?!"

George scrunches his nose with a groan, closing his eyes like he's exasperated.

"Shut up! You know that's not what I meant," he argues. He's already a little flushed from the heat, but Dream thinks he can see the pink in his cheeks deepen.

"Do I?" Dream teases, straining to hold back his laughter. "So you don't want me in bed with you?"

Another groan answers him as George opens his eyes to glare at him through the lazy slits. Dream meets his gaze with an impish grin and watches as George heaves a put-upon sigh, head lolling to face the ceiling again. Like Dream can't see the secret smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Shut up idiot, just... lay down already."

Dream can't help but feel a little caught off-guard by the bluntness, again.

Its not that he'd thought George wasn't being serious. It's the way he's being so insistent, so direct when asking for closeness. It's a bit surprising. Unsual. Almost unlike him.

Then again... maybe the heat affects George just as much as it does him, making him more mellow, more honest. And it's not like this would be the first time they do this. Be close. Cuddle. Whatever. In fact, Dream is sure Sapnap is diligently counting each and every time he and George end up tangled together during weekly movie night for blackmail purposes.

But still, this feels a little different somehow. A little... more. He watches George watch the ceiling. Maybe it's just the heat.

He kind of feels like he's choking on the warm air.

Dream rounds the bed slowly, hesitating for a second before crawling onto the mattress. He feels a little jittery all of sudden, and he half expects George to tense up when he goes to lay down on his back, an arm's lenght away. But no, George remains sprawled out on the bed, loose-limbed, comfortable as can be.

He doesn't know if George's calmness is reassuring or daunting. If he'd rather George look a little off-balance, like how he feels right now. Maybe it wouldn't matter anyway. Dream breathes in, out, looks at the thin stripes of sunlight painting the walls and the sheets. It's warm. The room's warm.

The fan whirrs and clicks. Cool air washes over them as it turns in their direction.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices when George finally unsticks his gaze from the ceiling. The older glances over to where Dream lies an arm's lenght away, sighs and shifts, curls himself toward him until he ends up with his forehead pressed against Dream's shoulder.

Dream can't help his shuddery exhale as a flash of fondness rushes through him. It combines with the warm air, makes him feel a little fuzzy, makes him turn to face George. The older loses his spot against Dream's shoulder and gives a little hum, displeased, adjusts himself and pushes even closer until he can rest his forehead against Dream's chest. They lie like a pair of parentheses, curled towards each other, not touching anywhere but where Dream can feel his own heartbeat resonate. Forehead to chest. Anything more would be too much in this heat. Too much in this dim, quiet room.

They're still for a few minutes. Dream studies the way the sunstripes drape over George's shoulder and sighs, content, sinks further into the mattress.

George shuffles closer to him. Dream makes room for him, drapes his arm over his shoulder without a second thought. Cool air sweeps across their legs as the fan turns to face them for a second before continuing it's arc. The heat settles back over them like a blanket, the fan's constant hum white noise in the quiet.

"Aren't you warm?"

Eventually, Dream breaks the silence. His voice is soft and low like he's chasing after it still. The question is an opening, a chance for George to draw back, to end this tranquil intimacy on his own terms.

But George just huffs like the question is ridiculous and nudges his head against Dream's chest. The action makes a lock of hair fall out of place and Dream reaches out to fix it absent-mindedly. George makes a quiet pleased noise and Dream smiles.

He shifts slightly to better brush his hand through dark hair. Reassured that George won't pull back, that he's being honest and open, or well, as open as George ever gets, he dares to voice his confusion:

"Alright, so what's this about? It's hot and normally you'd be like, complaining while sticking your head in the fridge, but instead you're... you're not usually this...", he trails off with a vague hand motion, unsure how to put their closeness and everything else into words.

"I don't know, just felt like it."

There's a pause after the curt reply, like George didn't mean for it to come out so sharp, to deflect like he always does. Dream, undeterred, can almost see him thinking, weighing how much he's comfortable divulging.

The pause drags on. Only when Dream is near ready to let it go, to accept the non-answer as the most he'll be able to get, does George add:

"Yeah it's warm, but it's not warm enough to where im like... disgustingly sweaty you know? I'm just kinda drowsy or something..." He softly pushes into Dream's fingers playing with his hair, nestles closer. "This is nice I guess."

The fan whirrs, clicks, starts up again. Repeats.

"Y'know, this reminds me of England," George says, apropos of nothing. "It was so hot inside during summer with all the insulation and no aircon." There's a pause before he mumbles something else into the fabric of Dream's shirt, something Dream has to strain to hear, but what sounds suspiciously like "at least now I'm here with you."

Dream's throat clicks as he swallows at the reminder of summers spent an ocean apart.

He sighs, then looks down at the mass of brown locks lying messy against his chest. The slow, creeping dark tendrils of his sadness dissipate as quickly as the came when another bolt of fondness shoots through him at the sight. He can't help the sappy little smile tugging at his lips as he replays George's words in his mind, once, then twice.

And he can't help the way his smile sharpens into a grin when he replays them again, an opportunity to tease and lighten the atmosphere rolled into one and hidden behind the initial high of George's admittance.

Dream nudges George with a coo, grin still on his face.

"Awwe I knew you loved me George!"

"Shut the hell up idiot."

George huffs in amusement and delivers a weak hit to his shoulder, then drops his fist back down. He turns his head and peaks up at Dream, a line of light falling over his eyes turning them honey-gold.

And once more, Dream can't help but be stunned by their closeness, heart working overdrive to process his reality. Them, no longer an ocean apart. Everything that wasn't possible before now here in his arms. George now here in his arms.

He's not quite aware that he's staring, too preoccupied with his sudden monumental realisation, but when he catches George's soft smile turn to an amused smirk he very conciously redirects his gaze across the room, trying his hardest to pretend that he's fascinated by the way the light drapes over his desk and chair like he doesn't feel the heat rising to his face.

Dream can hear George shift, can see his hand raise in his peripheral vision, but still he jumps when George's fingertips brush over his cheek suddenly, trailing up his blush-warm skin to swipe over the shell of his glowing ear.

He can't quite hold back the instinctual shiver of sensitivity, presses his head into the mattress a little while his shoulders twitch up, unwilling to shake George off but unable to endure the impossibly soft sensation.

George just laughs quietly and does it again before he drops his hand back down to the sheets between them with a faint thump. There's a swish of skin over fabric and then George knocks his knee into Dream's thigh. It's casual and easy, and it screams of a mutual want for more contact, despite the stifling heat. It's nothing if not a clear invitation. Dream slings his arm over George's side, fingertips coming to rest in the dips of his spine.

Despite all of George's earlier shifting around, his shirt had stubbornly remained ridden up, the hem bunching around his waist, much closer to his lower ribs than anywhere near his hips where it was supposed to rest. Dream's hand settles on the very edge of the fabric covering George's bare skin, tapping once and feeling a shiver run through the smaller's body.

He doesn't think anything of it, content to let the heat melt him into the sheets and slip his eyes closed, the fan providing them with white noise and the occasional rush of cool air over their sunstriped legs. It's peaceful, and the sleepiness that had been lurking around the edges of his conciousness sneaks in again.

Absent-mindedly, he begins playing with the bunched up fabric of George's shirt, tugging on it and rubbing it in between his fingertips. He feels drowsy, and when George shivers again and arches his back a little, and Dream's fingertips end up smoothing over soft skin instead of soft fabric he barely even notices.

His idle motions switch to slow and sweeping traces instinctually, someplace somewhere in the back of his mind aiming to provide George with just as much calm and tranquility as he himself is feeling right now.

Though George, for some reason, is squirming around a bit, Dream notes hazily. It's not very obvious, but it's enough to ping his subconcious:

Brown locks mussing as the older curls in on himself just slightly, now pressing the crown of his head to Dream's chest. Back arching minutely and legs a little restless, knee trembling against Dream's thigh like George is trying to keep it still. The soft rustling as smaller hands grip and release the sheets, accompanied by softer huffs of breath.

Dream, in his semi-lucid state, is honestly ready to write it off as something mundane, like George's leg falling asleep, or him holding back a sneeze from being irritated by some of the glowing gold dust motes dancing through the beams of light. So he just switches his light traces so slightly firmer ones, dragging his fingertips up George's back and gliding them back down using the smooth back of his nails to try and soothe George back to the same loose-limbed state as before.

It doesn't work.

Instead of serving to relax him it seems to do the opposite, Dream notes with a furrowed brow, as George tenses and his breathing stutters. Dream blinks his eyes open lazily and glances down at him with with blurry confusion. For a second, he contemplates if he should stop, if he's bothering him. But George is still pressed close, pressing closer, not moving away or complaining. It doesn't exactly make sense to Dream but the room is warm, and Dream feels drowsy, and if George doesn't like something he will make it known. It's a fact like any other.

So Dream continues.

Distracted, the next pass of his hand up George's back drifts higher, his fingers slipping below loose fabric on accident.

He can feel George freeze as his fingertips reach the apex of their path below his shirt, can feel him jump and gasp when he curls his fingers to glide them back down, nails scraping over his back ribs. But what really rips Dream from his sleepy semi-awareness is the way George's hands fly to curl into the fabric of Dream's own shirt at the sensation, the way he presses himself further into the embrace with a quiet whine of "Dream", wobbling like it clawed it's way out of George's throath.

Dream stills, caught off-guard by the sudden stronger reactions. It takes a few seconds for him to get to full conciousness, thoughts slowed in honey-sticky heat, but when he does, a seed of suspicion starts to grow along with the small smile on his lips. He twitches his fingers where they're still resting against George's back ribs, testing, and the responding shiver followed by George arching forward almost imperceptibly is enough to confirm his suspicions.

"Oh George..."

Dream hums the words, amused, glancing down. He can't see much beyond the mess of brown hair, but George's neck looks a little pinker than usual and he can feel him clenching the fabric of his shirt harder when Dream twitches his fingers again. It's endearing to watch him fight not to fight back.

Though, it's even more endearing to watch him jump and squeak and press even closer when Dream rakes his nails down his back in one smooth motion. He keeps them swirling in small circles near George's sides, just to feel him tremble as he tries so hard to keep soft whines and squeaks from slipping out. He doesn't quite succeed, and Dream smirks at the aborted high-pitched sounds rising above the hum of spinning fan blades. He huffs out a laugh when an unexpected squeeze to George's side makes him squeal into Dream's chest.

The movement makes a flash of pink peek out of dark messy hair and Dream's fingers search it out without even so much as a concious thought. He traces over the shell of George's flushed ear carefully and tries not to melt when George shakes his head in protest, the brightest giggles Dream has ever heard lighting up the minuscule space between them. They're so tangible that he can almost feel them against his own skin.

George ducks away with a soft squeak when Dream runs his finger over his ear again, and Dream can feel his heart squeeze in such visceral adoration that he has to stop to breathe for a second.

The fan clicks, and Dream feels just a little overwhelmed by the heat and the stillness and George. He feels like he's floating and like he's too warm and like he will collapse in on himself if this excrutiatingly soft atmosphere persists a second longer.

He looks down at George, still giggling into his chest, and solves his own problem the easiest way he can think off.

Distracting himself, being playful. Teasing.

He swipes over the shell of George's ear one last time before giving it a slight flick, both to get George's attention and to feel him jump a little.

"Hey George?" Dream starts, nonchalant.

He gets nothing but a low, cautious 'Hmm?' in response. It makes him smile.

"George~," he purrs, his smile widening as he feels him tense at his tone. He sends his fingertips to surprise-flutter over George's neck. "Aren't you... ticklish?"

The result of his teasing is a flustered, indignant mewl followed by a sharp breath like George wishes he could take the embarrassing little noise back. It's immensely satifsfying to Dream, and, as stupid as it is, it makes him feel a little more self-assured too. Still soft, but no longer untethered in the face of the fan's constant drone and the way the humidity causes the fine hair on George's nape to curl and stick to his skin.

He puts his newly-recovered balance to use immediately.

"Why aren't you moving away?" Dream asks, voice light like his fingers as they move to spider up and down the slope of George's neck. Everytime he reaches the crook where it meets the shoulder he pinches down the top of George's trapezius slightly, and everytime he gets a pathetically airy whine in response.

George just grumbles through his giggles as he scrunches his shoulders. His fist, still holding on to Dream's shirt, knocks into his stomach.

"Dreheaaam... ihit- it's too hot for thihis."

Dream purrs teasingly. "That doesn't answer my question George..."

He only gets a high-pitched, wobbly hum in response, making him scoff.

He ducks his head down, moves in closer so his breath brushes over sensitive skin. In a low, low voice he whispers, straight into George's ear:

"You know you're lucky I'm not making you admit you like this."

The answering gasp and shiver is immediate, the giggly whine takes a bit longer to work it's way out of George and into the fabric of Dream's shirt. Still there's no sign of protest as George squirms - closer, instead of further away. Dream observes it all with a fondly sharp smile. From someone as contrary as George, the lack of denial is incriminating. Basically a signed and stamped formal confession.

And so Dream is happy to keep going. He stays on George's neck for a while, fluttering his fingers up and down the tendons and blush warm skin, sometimes trailing up to his ear just to watch him shake his head when he can't take the gentle touches any longer.

When he gets bored he worms his fingers down into the space between his neck and his protectively scrunched up shoulder and wiggles them under George's jaw. The unexpectedly loud squeal it produces catches him offguard enough to make him break into laughter himself. But even through his own snickering he still notices that, though the sensation has George wriggling and unable to hold back his giggles, he still doesn't pull back.

And Dream makes sure to comment on it, voice full of playful mischief.

"Oooh, you're still not moving away George.."

"Dreheheam! Shuhut up!"

George's voice is too wobbly for him to truly succed in snapping at him, and Dream's smile grows a little, gleeful that his teasing is getting to George.

"Why?" He goads, scritching his nails along George's jaw. "I'm just pointing something ouhUT- hEhey!"

Dream flinches back with an embarrassing little squeak as a sudden wave of tingles courses through him, courtesy of George. Who had apparently decided that Dream had been getting a little too comfortable and could handle a few pokes to his unsuspecting tummy, the hands that had been holding on to his shirt conveniently already right there.

"Wh- Geheorge!"

George manages to sneak in a few more scribbles and pokes to his tummy and along his side before Dream can get a grip on his own involuntary squirming and giggling enough to snatch both of George's wrists and transfer them to one of his hands. A little flushed from the sudden attack, he holds them away from his own skin, trying to remain unaffected when George pushes against his hold, protesting, still wiggling his fingers in the direction of Dream's sensitive tummy. 'Unaffected' doesn't exactly work out for him though, body jumping and tummy sucking in on instinct when George pushes a little harder and gets his fingers dangerously close to Dream again, way to close for comfort.

"G-George stohop!" He stutters on his reprimand, embarrassingly. Dimly, he can feel George's smile widen against his sternum. That little idiot was loving this!

Dream tightens his grip around George's wrists in warning, now more determined than ever to keep the upper hand.

"Wahatch it! You and I both know that I could make this so much worse for you!"

Now, Dream is of the opinion that he can be plenty intimidating. He knows that he would certainly heed his own warning, especially if his hands were caught like George's.

But George, evidently, does not care.

"Oh yeah? And you're annoying, how about that!"

"AnnoyIHING?!" His grip on George's wrists slips for just a second at the audacity. It's enough for George to get his fingers on Dream's sides again, much to George's delight and his chagrin. He has to raise his voice over George's victorious cackling while he fights to secure his grip on his wrists again. When he succeeds, he grins.

"Okay. Now you're done."

It takes a little bit of shifting around, but he manages to wrestle both of George's wrists into the hold of his other hand, keeping them low against the mattress. He hovers his now free hand over George, grin growing sharper at his increasing protesting and squirming, before digging into his defenseless ribs without warning. He tazes there only for a moment, then jumps to squeeze at his sides, switching back and forth between the two spots for a few seconds.

It's pretty effective in cutting of George's frantic pleading, replacing it with wild laughter that only grows wilder when Dream adds his upper back to the attack, tickling along his spine and pinching the edges of his shoulderblades, pressing into the muscle below.

And still, still, even while Dream is vibrating his fingers into his ribs or squeezing his sides or scribbling over his shoulderblades, George isn't moving away. Dream can feel him flinch away from his touch, can feel his restless legs squirming against his own thigh, can feel his hands flex in his grip and his head knock against his chest from the overwhelming ticklish feeling, but still George does not draw back. His adorable perseverance almost makes Dream soften again, but there's still something he'd like to make George take back. The opportunity George gave him with his playful slight to Dream's pride was just too good to pass up:

"George! I'm not annoying! Take it back!"

It's way too fun to play up the whiny hurt in his tone, even if George probably doesn't even notice, too busy laughing his heart out to appreciate Dream's dramatics.

"Yohou ahahAHAHRE!"

"George."

Dream says it like he's disappointed, like his cheeks aren't starting to hurt from his own huge grin. He drags his hand up George's side, over his ribs and then further, slowly creeping up to his open underarm. George's knee jabs into his thigh as he jumps at the threath - it's mean and Dream knows it, but it's not like it's unprovoked. And also...

"Okay okahay you're nohOHAHAHAH- NO! DREHEheam! Yohou're nohot annoying, you're nohOT!"

... it's effective.

Dream stops his fingers' dancing over the sensitive skin between his top rib and his underarm.

"Thank you George!"

He knows he sounds way too self-satisfied, and it's proven seconds later when he hears George scoff at him through his slowly calming giggles.

(It almost makes him dig into his ribs again, but he decides to let it go. And not just because he can see the laugh lines at the corners of George's squinted eyes from his shifted position.)

He releases his grip on George's wrists and sends his other hand to trail down George's back, pressure lighter now that Dream had gotten what he wanted. He's back to tracing, absent-mindedly outlining muscle and bone with his fingertips. The unbearably light sensation makes George's fingers curl into the fabric of Dream's shirt again. Dream can't suppress his instinctual flinch, reminded of their earlier situation, but George just huffs out a quietly amused laugh and relaxes into the soft tracing, his head still pressed to Dream's chest.

After a few seconds Dream, too, relaxes, allows himself to sink into the sheets just a little, the sunstripes falling heavy over his body.

He runs his fingers over George's back, up to his bottom ribs and down to his sides, mindlessly mesmerized by the smooth skin. His nails trip over the bumps of George's spine and ribs as he slips them just barely below the hem of his bunched up shirt to play at the edges of his shoulderblades before running them back down to draw small shapes on the small of his back. Occasionally he lifts his hand to brush over his neck or his ear or play with a few strands of messy brown hair.

Through it all, George does nothing but stay close, lightly squirming and quietly huffing like he, too, doesn't want to disturb the gentle atmosphere that had settled over them again.

Only when Dream slips his nails over his bicep, up and down over soft skin and tensing muscle does George whine in protest, low and soft. Dream has to close his eyes for a second against the sudden adoration that washes through him at the noise. It makes him continue tracing over his bicep for just a few seconds longer before he trails back up to George's neck, the sensation making George sigh and shudder and nestle closer into the ever smaller space between them.

It's peaceful. Soft. The room is still warm and the fan is still droning on and on, the thin lines of sunlight shifting imperceptibly with the slow sun. The only break in the white noise are George's quiet gasps of breath everytime Dream grazes his nails over a sensitive spot. It's easy and it's calm and Dream get a little lost in his head, in the heat, hand continuing it's mindless tracing while his earlier drowsiness creeps back in.

After a while Dream pulls himself from the honey-sticky warmth of his thoughts and notices that George has started pushing at him slightly, balling his hands into fists against his chest and then releasing them again. Like a cat, Dream thinks for a second, and then immediately shushes his own head.

"What is it George," he asks softly, teasingly. Sleepily. "You want something?"

There's a pause, no response but the swish of skin over fabric as George keeps squirming lightly, Dream's nails trailing under his bunched up shirt to tap over his back ribs.

"Want me to stop?" Dream questions, and stops his fingers as if to demonstrate, fitting them into the grooves of his ribs. He can feel George's back muscles tremble under his fingertips, and the sensation makes him smile. "You should just stop me then. Or maybe move away. I'm not holding you down after all..."

(The teasing comes in a slow drawl. It's an easy out if George wants to take it. Dream wouldn't want to take it too far, at least not when they're both curled together, close of their own volition and only about two seconds away from fully melting into the sheets from the heat.)

There's another pause, stretching quiet in the humid air, until-

"No. D'n wanna." George, face still buried in Dream's chest, mumbles. And then rolls his shoulders like he's demanding for Dream to keep going. He sounds like Dream feels, a little out of it, like the softer tracing is slowly but surely lulling him to sleep, in tandem with the heat.

Dream can't hold back a small coo, endlessly endeared by George's antics. He resumes his easy tracing, drifting his fingertips over and between George's shoulderblades, flicking them up to brush over his neck in slow loops.

And out of every tease and every comment from Dream, that coo is what finally gets George to leave his hiding spot against Dream's chest and look up at him. He's squinting from a mixture of sudden brightness, sleepiness and the giddy smile he's wearing, and when he looks at Dream with such an openly happy expression and the faint imprint of the folds of Dream's shirt on his forehead, Dream suddenly feels like he might cry.

His struggle must play across his face rather obviously, eyes soft and fond smile wobbly and unhidden, because George blinks himself out of his haze momentarily, just to raise his eyebrows at him in a quiet, bright taunt. Dream can feel his face flush a little, and the sudden influx of warmth is enough to turn his smile sheepish as glances away quickly, too drowsy to be truly embarrassed but still amused at himself. He skitters his nails over George's nape in soft retaliation and George ducks back into Dream's chest dutifully, though not without sending him another teasing glance first. Dream just switches to poking along his shoulderblades with a quiet scoff, smile still on his face.

-

The fan whirrs and the lines of sunlight settle over them like a blanket. It's warm. They're close. Eventually, Dream's hand drops from where it was tracing lazy circles between George's shoulderblades, feeling too warm and heavy to continue moving. It settles comfortably over his side.

If they thought about it, it was kind of insane that they could all be in the same room together, now.

With George finally in Florida, and Dream consequently face revealed, meeting up with the Dream Team had become fair game.

Karl had jumped at the chance, booking the first available flight and arriving in Orlando just a day after Dream had brought up the idea. Quackity was due to arrive later that week for the long-awaited 5/5 meetup, but unlike Karl's arrival, his had been kept secret and would only be revealed later on stream.

After spending all of yesterday afternoon and this morning together, the four boys were now in the middle of their very own photoshoot, trying to capture the meetup in all possible constellations of people and merch - both to provide content for the fans and to commemorate the occasion for themselves.

Currently, it was Dream and Karl's turn, both of them standing in front of the white backdrop wearing each other's merch.

On top of that, Dream was boasting another, more unusual accessory. This morning, he had basically turned to whole house upside down looking for his mask, muttering on and on about brand recognition. Now he made sure to have it either covering his face, or -at least- somewhere on his person, for about half of the pictures.

There was just one simple little problem. The mask, which looked even creepier in real life, Karl commented, was essentially just a glorified painted circle of paper mache. So whenever Dream was wearing the mask... he was blind.

He tried to work around the problem by relying fully on Sapnap for positioning, who was directing the photoshoot with surprisingly fierce professionalism while George was lazing around on the couch out of shot, occasionally throwing in suggestions, but mostly just giggling at Dream's disoriented stumbling.

Another series of shutterclicks signified that Sapnap had deemed their crouch-standing combo worthy enough of a picture.

Karl let his slightly strained smile slip away in favor of letting out a quiet, pained groan. Holding the crouch for so long had been awkward and sparked a leg cramp. It subsided slightly as Karl massaged his calf carefully, but when he went to stand the cramp flared up again and he flinched, tipping backwards.

His hands shot out on instinct, flailing around wildly as he tried to find anything to hold onto and stop his fall.

Inconveniently, the only thing even within his reach were Dream's legs, the blond still standing slightly offset behind him. Blind behind the mask, he hadn't even noticed Karl's struggle yet.

That changed rather quickly when Karl, devoid of a better option, caught himself with his hand on Dream's thigh and squeezed.

Dream shrieked, jumping away from the sudden sensation and leaving Karl to rather forcefully sit down on the floor, fall mostly broken regardless.

Karl did not waste a second as he propped himself up again, attention now purely fixed on Dream, who had stumbled back a few steps, hands held up in front of himself nervously.

"Oh, no shot! Dream, you're ticklish?"

Karl's giddy tone made Dream shrink back even further, shoulders up to his ears at this point. He could feel a tiny, reluctant smile tugging at his lips, and the blood rushing to his cheeks and to the tips of his ears, coloring them pink. He wasn't quite sure if he cursed or welcomed the mask at that moment: It left him blind, sure, but it also hid his face from his friends, letting him blush and bite his lip in peace.

On second thought, since the mask was hiding his face it also ment it hid his most obvious tells. So..., Dream felt a quiet spark of hope, ... maybe he could get himself out of this still!

It took almost all of his resolve to lower his reluctant hands back to his sides and stand up straight again, assuming what he hoped was at least a normal-ish position. Maybe even casual if he dared to hope.

When Dream heard sudden footsteps coming closer he had to fight to keep his hands and nervous giggles down, trying to keep his voice steady and confident:

"No I'm not. Look, you juhust surprised me, thahat's ahahall!"

He failed.

Unbeknownst to Dream, Karl had been roving his eyes up and down his friend's visibly defensive figure. Despite the taller's best efforts, he couldn't stop his shoulders from drawing up or his hands from clenching in anticipation by his sides. Karl quirked a teasing eyebrow as he caught a flash of pink amongst Dream's blond waves, the strands doing little to hide his ears.

"Oouuh, are you blushing?"

Karl watched with open glee as Dream choked out a strangled "N-no!" and jumped away from a poke to his side he hadn't been able to see coming. An amused huff came from behind Karl where Sapnap had joined George in draping over the couch, the two of them content to let Karl have his fun it seemed.

Karl circled Dream slowly, trying his best to keep his footsteps quiet to obscure his movement. It didn't quite work, Dream spinning to meet him with hands defensively raised everytime Karl made a slightly louder noise by accident, but it did serve to get Dream even more off balance, disoriented, unsure of Karl's position and only growing giddier with anticipation because of it.

Every once in a while, Dream's hands twitched up towards his mask, seemingly contemplating trying to take it off, only to flinch and jerk them back down with a high-pitched giggle anytime Karl made another noise.

Karl watched him struggle with a borderline predatory grin on his face. Trying to stay as quiet as possible he creeped around Dream slowly until he was facing his back (and also Sapnap and George, who he sent a wink over Dream's shoulder).

Dream, able to gather a bit of his composure in the longer silence, reached for the buckle securing his mask again. He was more than aware that Karl was still around, probably ready to pounce, but if he could just get the mask off...

But on the other hand.. he hesitated for a second, his warm fingertips grazing the belt turned mask strap.

Dream could feel his cheeks burning, knowing his face was probably bright red at this point. And as strategic as he normally was, he couldn't help but weigh the clear advantage of being able to see against the humiliation of taking off the mask in front of his teasy idiot friends.

He'd hesitated too long.

"Come on, show me your smile!"

A shiver raced down Dream's whole body as Karl purred into his ear suddenly. He jumped forward with a startled squeak, but was unceremoniously tugged back into Karl's chest by the arms that had wrapped around him from behind. He squirmed in Karl's hold, more of a backwards hug, his own frantic giggles mixing with the playful ones coming from all three of his evil, evil friends who just loved to see him suffer.

When Dream felt Karl's hands settle on his ribs he froze, the abrupt stop to his squirming drawing another delighted giggle out of Karl. It was drowned out by a surprised bark of laughter as Karl squeezed once and somehow hit all of Dream's sensitive spots first try.

And then did it again.

And again.

Only when Dream let out a choked squeal, about to start begging Karl to change spots, did he move further up, fingers now switching between scratching over Dream's uppermost ribs and drilling into his armpits.

That... wasn't much of an improvement. Dream threw his head back, a wobbly whine escaping him, grateful that his mask was hiding his wide, goofy grin and watery eyes.

"Aww you didn't take the mask off, did you?" Karl pouted. "But I need to see your smile, Dream!"

Karl's tone tripped Dream up for a second. His giddy mind couldn't pin down what his friend was getting at, his thoughts too jumbled from the unbearable sensations sparked by Karl's clever fingers...

Until he felt Karl reach for the strap of his mask and a bolt flustered realization shot through him. The thought of Karl revealing his face now, when he was blushing bright enough to pass as a stoplight and all but cry-laughing at the tickling was almost enough to make his knees buckle in embarassment.

"Nohohoho you d- dohohOHON'T!"

Dream doubled over laughing, one of his hands clutching the mask while the other was trying to push Karl away fruitlessly. He was struggling to form thoughts, much less words, but a familiar giggle reaching his ears from across the room spawned an idea in his head. A dangerous idea, one that was very likely to backfire on him, but at this point he was desperate enough to take any chance he could get.

(Well, he could always tell Karl to stop, actually stop, but... where was the fun in that?)

"Geheorge!" He squeaked. "SapnahAhap! He- hehehelp mehe!"

Karl who had managed to push the strap of the mask up far enough to where the only thing keeping the mask to Dream's face was the blond's own hand, skittered his fingers over Dream's ribs down to his sides. He dug in with a mischievous look, smirking at the resulting squirming.

Then he sent Sapnap and George, who hadn't moved a finger at their best friend's plea and were still draped over one another, a wink.

"Yeah you guys should totally help!" Karl chirped, smirk growing as Dream shrieked in immediate protest.

"That's- nahAHAHAHA! KAhaharl! Thahat's not whahahat I meheheant!!"

George and Sapnap snickered, eyes fond and playful as they regarded Dream with an assessing look before turning to Karl again, shrugging at him with matching approving grins.

"Nah, he's all yours Karl," Sapnap laughed.

George agreed: "Yeah Karl, you don't need our help!" expertly ignoring Dream's "Ahahaand whahahat abohoUT MEHEHEE?!" with a giggle of his own.

Karl glanced over at Dream, who was still twisting in his arms and laughing hysterically everytime Karl managed to hit a particularly sensitive spot on his sides. Suprisingly though, considering his disheveled state and general squirmy-ness, he was sticking to using only one hand to push at Karl's, the other still pressed to his mask, securing it to his face. Not even poking his upper ribs or his armpit was enough to get him to bring that hand, and the mask, down.

He sent Sapnap and George a pointed look, inclining his head to gesture to the mask. Then he raised his eyebrows and put on his wheedling frat boy impression:

"Hah, c'mon, at least give me some inside information, you know what I'm saying?!"

Sapnap snorted and turned to George. Karl watched them have some kind of silent conversation with each other, accompanied by Dream's not so silent begging for them not to tell him anything.

Discussion ending with a head tilt, a shrug and then an almost creepily synchronised mutual nod, Sapnap smirked as George quirked his eyebrows, a mischievous smile playing at his lips.

"NOHOHOHO! GEHEHEORGE, SAPNAHAP DON'T YOU DAHAHARE!"

"Try his tummy," George stage-whispered to Karl, "and go light."

Dream let out an embarassed whine before redoubling his struggles, squirming around in Karl's arms while still clutching the mask on his face with one hand.

"No! NO! Thahat's nohot fahahair, come ohOHON!"

Dream sent his best attempt at a glare in George's approximate location, still blind behind the mask, before throwing himself forward in a last-ditch attempt to escape Karl's arms, too commited to preserve what was left of his dignity to give up after all that.

Unfortunately for Dream, Karl had already gathered quite a bit of experience with his squirming in the past few minutes. He pulled him back to his chest without too much effort, a steady forearm now pressed to Dream's own chest to keep him from lurching forward again while his other hand meandered down to playfully tug at the bottom of the Karl Jacobs sweatshirt Dream was wearing, photoshoot long derailed.

Dream gasped when he felt Karl's hand slither beneath the protective, thicker fabric to settle over the much thinner T-Shirt beneath. He had all of three seconds to process that he couldn't get out of Karl's hold, that he wouldn't be able to hold on to the mask, and, oh, that he was screwed, before his shoulders rose involuntarily when he felt Karl's breath graze his pink-tipped ear again.

"Ready to show me your smile now, handsome?"

Dream didn't stand a chance. The moment Karl's fingers started to spider along the soft fabric covering his tummy he was gone. The light, tingling sensation were just too much and too little to bare.

He sunk slowly to the carpeted floor, Karl following him all the way down with an amused huff. Dream felt like his whole body had gone lax at once, every ounce of strenght he'd had left leaving him along with the helpless, bubbly giggles he couldn't hope to contain.

He curled around Karl's still wiggling fingers with an airy whine, conflicted between making the tickling stop and, embarassing as it was, leaning into it, at least for a few seconds.

The hold Dream had on his mask was growing more and more slack. He let out a surprised yip when Karl spun him around and pushed him down flat on his back with surprising strenght, hand almost flying from the mask to steady himself, only able to restrain himself at the last second.

His free hand found one of Karl's wrists, holding onto it but not able to bring himself to push it away as Karl's fingers drew shapes and spirals and lines up and down his tummy, sending him into another giggle fit, still safely hidden behind the mask.

"Kahaharl plehehease, thi- thihis is unfahahair!"

He heard Karl scoff, then movement and then, way to close to his ear to not elicit more giggles, fond, playful teasing:

"No, you wanna know what's unfair? Unfair is you hiding behind your mask when all I want is to see. you. smile!"

He punctuated the last few words with light pokes to Dream's tummy and a sneaky huff of air straight into his ear.

Dream couldn't stop the shiver that ran down his spine at the sensation, the hand already on Karl's wrist squeezing while his other flew to rub at his tingling ear. When the tingling didn't stop he shook his head to try and get rid of it, only succeding in making his already disheveled hair even messier. And in shaking off his mask, no longer held to his face with both of his hands otherwise occupied.

It landed on the carpet with a soft thump, face down.

Dream was staring up at Karl with his squinted, teary eyes, a bright, giddy smile, and a glowing pink blush dusting his cheeks and ears that was only growing stronger by the second.

"There you are!" Karl cooed with a smile.

Both George and Sapnap echoed him, joining him im his cooing, though their tones were considerably more teasy, making things considerably harder for Dream.

Dream couldn't recall feeling anywhere close to this flustered in recent history. He was fighting the urge to sink into the ground, never to be seen again. Or to hide his face in his hands and curl into a ball. He hadn't decided yet.

His shoulders were still shaking with leftover giggles as he turned his head to the side, way to flustered to hold eye contact any longer.

His bubbly giggles calmed slightly when Karl started playing with his hair, wrapping blond strands around his fingers and tugging the slightest bit before petting them flat again. It helped settle the leftover tingling that had been running rampant from his ears to his tummy and back up again, and Dream relaxed further into the floor as it dissipated.

Until Karl swiped over the shell of his ear again and prompted a new rush of giggles, his shoulders jumping up again as he bit his lip slightly, whining.

"Aww Dream you look adorable right now!"

Karl sounded soft and sincere, only the slightest hint of teasing at the edge of his voice, but still...

Dream scrunched his nose as a fresh wave of pink flooded his cheeks. He squinted up at Karl in flustered offense. He really couldn't take the teasing right now.

"I- wha-... No! Sh-shuhut uhup!"

Karl quirked an amused grin and slid his fingerstips back up to Dream's top ribs, resting them there. Threateningly.

"Watch it. Almost sounds like you're asking for more right now."

Dream's eyes flew open almost comically wide, still slightly hazy and watery from his tears of hysterics way earlier. He fixed Karl with a look somewhere between apprehension and anticipation as his small embarrassed smile widened to a more giddy one.

"Doehes ihit?"

"Alright, bet."

"Wait, whahaHAHA-?!"

While Dream hadn't expected Karl to find out about any of this so early, he really couldn't bring himself to regret it right now.

Dream yelped when he felt George's fingers suddenly close around his ankles, tugging him back down to the middle of the mattress. He pushed himself up quickly, ready to try and escape again but was met with George's unimpressed glare. He froze, then huffed and dropped back down to awkwardly kneel on the bed instead.

"I know I'm not just brewing these healing pots for nothing! Work with me here!" George snapped, clearly annoyed. He pointed at Dream, scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes. "Lie down again!" The brewing stand across the room started to bubble loudly, drawing his attention for a second. Distractedly, he tacked on: "And take off your shirt!"

Dream couldn't hold back a snort at the phrasing before trying his luck at a diversion. He could still get out of this, just watch him!

"George!" Dream gasped, playing coy. "I never knew you thought about me that wa-"

"Shut up idiot," George interrupted flatly, sparing Dream another supremely unimpressed look. "Take off your shirt, lie down and let me check your back."

Dream sent another long, desperately longing glance toward the door before his fingers moved to tug up the hem of his shirt. Reluctantly.

George caught the look and huffed, eyebrows drawing up in amusement. "Youre acting like a child," he chastised teasingly. "Look, you slid halfway down a cave because you slipped on wet moss." He paused, smirking, the added "which was so bad of you by the way."

Dream grumbled in embarrassment as he pulled his shirt over his head, wincing a little at the ache. When he emerged again even his disheveled hair couldn't hide the pink tips of his blushing ears. "Don't remind me," he groaned as he flopped down on the bed, belly first, and hid his head in the pillows.

George continued, undeterred by Dream's protest: "You tore the back of your dumb leather chestplate beyond repair and there's no way you didn't scrape your back at least a little... and since you can't check it by yourself I'm being nice enough to do it for you. So stop being difficult!"

Dream froze where he'd been trying to shimmy closer to the side of the bed, hoping to somehow roll off and run for it while George was monologuing. He slumped into the cushions again, defeated.

"But it's embarrassing," he whined, turning his head slightly to give George his best attempt at pleading puppy eyes. "It was nothing! I'm fine, I promise. It doesn't even hurt."

George scoffed in disbelief, eyeing the red scratches that he could see running down the freckled planes of Dream's back.

"Yeah, sure idiot."

He leaned down a little to get a closer look, pressing down lighty here and there to assess the extent of Dream's injuries, grimacing at the soft pained noises the younger couldn't hold back. After a minute or three he sighed in relief, the rush of air making the fine hair on Dream's skin stand on end and his muscles twitch.

"Alright, looks like you were lucky. Like really lucky." George sat up and pushed himself off the bed, then meandered over to their brewing stand where three bright pink potions were bubbling happily. He picked one from it's support, not even bothering to cork it before turning towards Dream again.

"All the scratches are just surface-level, there's no cuts or anything," he explained as he dropped back onto the bad, careful not to spill the potion. "The health pot wouldn't even be neccessary, really, but it'd help with the pain too, so I think we should still use it."

Dream relaxed into the bed with a huge sigh, anxious nerves soothed now that George was done with the embarrassing check-up and had given him the all-clear. Well, in a way. Whatever.

"Sure, use the potion, why not," he agreed, forcibly nonchalant to hide the edge of pain in his voice.

Dream knew he didn't need to hide that, especially not in front of George but he just... well he just really didn't like to appear weak in front of others. He didn't even really know why, himself. But then again... maybe it was because of Manhunt? He was always bluffing about his health whenever they played so maybe it had become ingrained at this point-

Dream gasped as he felt George's fingertips brush over his back, the sudden sensation ripping him from his thoughts. He shuddered at the feeling of the cooling, slightly sticky residue the older's potion covered hands were leaving behind as George's fingers drifted up to his nape and then back down.

George was gentle in his movements, firm, but careful not to press into the especially tender spots while spreading the potion, instead lightly skimming over the angry red scratches to allow the healing to take effect without further agitating the already irritated skin.

Dream melted into the motions, the pained tension he'd held in his shoulders and jaw dissipating with every soothing swipe of cool hands over slowly healing scrapes. He absent-mindedly played with the fabric of the sheets, rubbing them inbetween his fingertips and tugging lightly, just to keep his hands busy. There was a small relaxed smile on his face that jumped everytime George got to close to his sides by accident. But George never strayed too far and Dream was able to stay in his warm bubble of comfort.

Until... he furrowed his brows and shifted slightly. A light tingling sensation had started flitting up the paths marked by the scrapes. Dream huffed and pushed the sensation to the back of his mind, determined to stay in his cozy headspace. Maybe the newly grown nerves were a little more sensitive than usual? Whatever it was, he was set on ignoring it until it went away. For once he was too relaxed to care.

But when George's hands brushed over the back of his ribs again, Dream flinched. The tingling was growing stronger wherever the older's fingertips wandered, sneaking it's way back to the forefront of Dream's mind and making a home there.

Before he knew it, Dream was fighting a losing battle trying to hold back his own reactions, fingers twisted into the sheets and head pressed into the cushion to hide his huffing breaths. He couldn't help but start to shift around, able to keep it almost unnoticeable at first, but with George's fingers still tracing his back to work in all of the potion, it soon escalated to obvious squirming.

Obvious enough to attract George's attention, it seemed, confusion clear in his voice: "Wha-?Dream! Why are you moving so much? Stay still!"

Dream, who had been valiantly fighting all the pathetic little noises trying to claw their way up his throath, as well as the overwhelming urge to just flip around on his back - health pots always stained fabric pink, and he quite liked his white sheets, no way was he flipping around! - jumped as George's hands came to rest on his sides. All his focus and determination went overboard as the tingling followed, quickly growing in intensity until George could just as well be spidering his fingernails up and down his sensitive sides.

Dream couldn't hold back anymore. He broke into desperate, high-pitched giggles, shoulders shaking and fingers finally releasing the sheets only to sink into his pillow instead, hugging it closer to his blushing face as he tried to muffle himself in embarrassment.

"What's up with you?"

A slightly concerned note had found it's way into George's voice. He was incredibly confused. At first he'd thought that maybe Dream had been in way more pain than he'd let on, his tense frame and bitten-off whines enough to make George lighten his touch until he was barely brushing his skin. But... now he was laughing? Why?

George considered everything he was doing and came up empty. He was just treating his friend's injuries with a potion of healing, something they'd done for each other and Sapnap hundreds of times. He knew that Dream was a little bit more... sensitive on his back and near his sides, but again, George had used health pots on Dream's back before, just like he was now. But Dream had never reacted like that.

"Ihihit- ihit tihihickles, Geheheorge plehehease!"

Dream was wriggling around on the bed, pillow now hugged to his chest as he turned his head to look at George over his shoulder. The pleading effect of his puppy eyes was kind of ruined by his wobbly smile and the bright and happy glint in his gaze.

"It- what? It tickles? I'm not even doing anything, like actually!" George laughed, incredulous. He removed his fingers from Dream's sides and observed Dream's shaking shoulders with his brows drawn-up in intrigue. Absentmindedly, he noted that all that remained of the formerly angry red scrapes were slowly fading thin pink lines.

Still puzzled, he smoothed his hands up Dream's back again, pressure even and firm, a demonstration of how what he was doing couldn't possibly tickle-

Except he barely got to the bottom of Dream's back ribs and Dream arched his back with a sharp yelp, before he came crashing down to the bed again, squirming and clawing at the sheets, positively cackling.

George drew his hands back quickly in surprise, but it still took a while for Dream to calm down enough to speak, his giggles bubbly and seemingly endless.

"Th- thehe potion, it- sohomethihing's wrong with the potiohohon. Ihit ticklehehes!" Even when George wasn't touching him, he was still jumping and flinching, the phantom sensations keeping him on edge and the hiccups of giggles spilling. "Whahat dihid y-you put in thehehere?"

George thought for a second, humming. He hadn't excactly been very focused on the process of brewing the potions, since he'd had to wrangle an annoying overgrown child into sitting still for a check-up at the same time, but...

"I mean I threw the glistening melon in with the rind. And it was looking a little mushy already, I guess, but I didn't think that mattered?"

George watched his tone as he answered, carefully trying not to betray the slow grin rising on his face. So the potion tickled, huh? And, considering the way Dream had reacted, it was worse when, and where, George was touching him?

He felt his grin grow wicked. He could work with that.

"Th- the melon?" Dream questioned, voice still a little too wobbly to achieve his usual analytical air. "I mehean it cohould be that. The other ingrehedients aren't affected by age, we know that. But still-"

George tuned him out to pour a little more of the potion into his hand before setting the bottle aside again. There was still about a third of the liquid left, more than enough to pay Dream back for the scare in the cave and the ridiculous hassle of getting his adult best friend to comply with getting his injuries checked. (Well, and George also just liked to see Dream happy, but that... didn't have anything to do with it.)

Coating both his hands in the potion, he thought he could kind of feel what Dream meant when he said it tickled. He could feel a quiet tingling along his palms and between his fingers when he focused on it, but it was easy enough to tune out. He probably wouldn't have ever noticed it if Dream hadn't brought attention to it. It was probably worse if applied in places that were actually ticklish though. Like for example...

George could barely hold back a devious giggle as he lowered his all but dripping hands to Dream's back again. Dream didn't notice, still absorbed in rambling about the glistening melon.

"-elon though, i've never heheard of tha-AH! GEHEORGE NAHAHOHOHOOO!"

"What, Dream?" George questioned innocently, raising his voice to talk over the younger's cackles and frantic protests. "I still need to finish treating your scratches, don't I?"

George pressed his fingers into the sensitive skin right below Dream's shoulderblades, unable to hold back his own giggles as Dream howled with laughter.

"Nohoho I doN'T CAHAHARE! I Dohohon't ca- ahahAHAH! I DON'T CAHARE ANYMOhohore! GEORGE! WASH IT OHOHOFF, PLEHEAHASE!"

George just smiled down at his laughing best friend and rolled his eyes, flitting his fingers up to tickle the back of his neck for a second. For all his begging and pleading, Dream really never made any move to push him off or escape. It was as adorable as it was hilarious.

One day George would get him to admit what both he and Sapnap already knew: Dream loved this, and there was no denying it.

But, George thought as he watched Dream burrow deeper into his pillow, that was in the future. For now...

He leaned down close to Dream's ear, the mean smirk on his face widening as Dream scrunched up his shoulders when he felt his breath, like that would do anything to protect him.

"Wash it off? Why would I do that?" He questioned, tone as innocent as he could manage. He eyed Dream's bare back with mischief, no trace of the scrapes to be seen. "It's still doing it's job after all. It stays on until you're fully healed."

George paused, granting Dream his litany of wobbly protests while he felt around for the bottle, then let his smirk creep entirely into his voice.

"In fact, I think I need to use a little more."

(Dream would forever deny the noise he made when George dumped the entire contents of the bottle onto his back.

George would never let him live it down.)

He watches in bewilderment, blinking a few times against the bright mid-morning sunrays falling through the windows to make sure he isn't imagining things. His two friends don't even notice him, too focused on their... game of tag? Or something?

Okay, George has no clue what's happening.

He's about to open his mouth and demand an explanation when Sapnap's high pitched screech cuts him off. His mouth drops open regardless.

Dream did not just vault over the back of the couch. Right? He didn't. Right!?

The way both Dream and Sapnap go down with a loud thud, tangled together, suggests otherwise. George can't really see what's going on but they seem to be wrestling on the living room carpet.

George carefully steps around the couch to get a better view, and finds himself looking at Dream's back, Sapnap pinned beneath the taller, squirming and red-faced. His brows furrow as Dream does... something and Sapnap arches up with a close-mouthed scream.

Ok, now George really wants to know what kind of Cain instinct shit is going on here.

"Are you guys like... ok?"

His voice isn't all that loud, subdued and scratchy from sleep, but Dream still jumps and whips his head around, only to relax immediately when he recognizes that it's George standing behind him.

"Oh yeah everything's fine, Sapnap's just being annoying, is all!" Dream beams at George like the situation is perfectly normal, then flails and snaps his attention back to Sapnap who'd been trying, and failing, to buck him off.

Dream leans down to the younger, his voice low, so low that George has to strain to hear it:

"Ooh, bad move Sapnap!"

George is still a little confused, but as he watches Sapnap start to shove at what must be Dream's hands on his hips, reluctant laughter bubbling up inbetween his growled protests, it slowly starts to dawn on him.

"Wait, are you tickl-"

He get's cut off by Sapnap, who has seemingly decided that antagonizing Dream instead of holding back his laughter is the way to go.

"Yohohou knohow, just beheheh- becahause you dohon't want it tohoho be truhuhue doesn't mehehean it's n- nahAHAHAHA!"

Dream borderline growls - and what's that about?- as he starts scribbling his fingers up and down Sapnap's sides. "Come on Sapnap," he scoffs, "you're wrong and you know it. Just take it back and I'll let you go."

George is really starting to feel out of the loop right now. "Alright," he starts, "what is up with y-"

He's interrupted, again. This time though, it's by a loud, panicked giggle from Dream as Sapnap seems to suddenly go on the offense, shooting his hands into Dream's open armpits. George watches, intrigued, as the taller man completely crumbles in seconds, curling up with shaking shoulders.

"Oh yeah?" Sapnap taunts, competitive satisfaction clear in his voice, "what was that Dream?"

There's a blur of movement as they start to wrestle again, both desperate for the upperhand. One of them knocks against the coffee table in their struggle, nearly toppling the cup sitting upon it. It's contents -water by the looks of it- slosh dangerously.

It's Dream who loses this time, George observes as he moves to lean against the arm of the couch. Sapnap is now looming over the taller with a wild grin on his face. It only grows sharper when Dream freezes. George can see the way Sapnap's fingers clamp and tighten around Dream's ribcage, threatening.

He can't suppress the amused little smile growing on his own face when Dream lets out an obviously involuntary, unsteady whimper, green eyes widening in mortification at the sound.

Sapnap doesn't react beyond a small mocking quirk of his eyebrows. There's a familiar glint of determination in his eyes, George notices, usually exclusively reserved for whatever game the youngest was try-harding at the moment.

"Give up Dream! You're wrong and you know it!" Sapnap crows, mirroring the older's earlier accusation gleefully. He adjusts his fingers on Dream's ribs and squeezes once. Just once.

Still, it's enough to make Dream choke on a pitched whine as he squirms around on the carpet. His pleading eyes fall on George for just a second before they flit away again, too flustered to make eye contact.

The reaction is obviously not good enough for Sapnap, who seems to be on a mission, because he cocks his head with a mischievous, calculating expression, narrows his eyes and then rakes his nails from Dream's ribs down to his sides, dragging them over the fabric of his shirt.

Oh, George blinks, surprised. This was enough to shatter the dam holding back Dream's laughter, apparently.

"SAPNAHAHAP nohOHO! Gehet the hEhell away frohom mehEhe!"

Sapnap appears unimpressed. In fact, he just coos at the little squeaks peppering Dream's protests, and George watches in awe as their usually so confident friend hides his face in his hands at the innocent teasing, shoulders rising up in embarrassment. He thinks he can spot Dream's ears darkening as he blushes, but he's not quite sure.

"Give up!" Sapnap challenges again a little while later, voice raised over Dream's continuous giggles. It only occurs to George then that he still has no idea what the entire thing is actually about. "Admit I'm right!"

The demand is ridiculous, apparently, because Dream rips his hands from his face to stare up at Sapnap despite the pink blush burning on his face, expression a picture of indignant incredulity. The affronted air he's projecting doesn't last more than a few seconds. His voice is still squeaky.

"Absolutely nOt! You're full of shit, you know you're wron- ngh nnnO! NohoHOHO WAHAIT!"

George thinks he can see Sapnap mouth "Alright then", a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The sound doesn't carry. Everything gets drowned out by Dream's bubbly, helpless laughter as he squirms around like a worm on a hook. George watches as Dream's hands flit around indecisively, torn between pushing at Sapnap's or covering his face. He can't seem to make his mind up, so they just end up hovering uselessly.

It's only when Sapnap begins spidering his fingers all over Dream's bare stomach, shirt long ridden up by all the squirming, that Dream's hands finally jump into action. Though, instead of using them to do anything useful, like maybe push Sapnap off, they just hold on to the younger's wrists helplessly. Dream is laughing harder now, voice cracking up into a squeak occasionally. His face is turned into the carpet, nose scrunched and smile bright. It's kind of adorable, George has to admit.

But... as much fun as George his having watching the situation unfold, he is also a naturally curious person. And he would like some answers now.

(Especially considering the noise of their argument turned competitive tickle fight -or whatever is going on, he still doesn't know!- woke him up.)

"Soo," he starts as Dream's giggles begin to diminish, Sapnap slowly backing off, "is this like a regular thing for you guys or...?"

Both Dream and Sapnap jump a little, head whipping around to stare at George in surprise like they'd forgotten he was even there. He just raises his eyebrows at their startled faces, his own decidedly unimpressed by the lack of explaining they were doing.

Sapnap recovers faster than Dream, who just slumps back to the carpet with a flustered groan, panting to try and catch his breath.

"Ye- I mean, yeah it kinda is." He sounds a little embarrassed, but explains further when George inclines his head in insistent curiosity, his voice growing steadier.

"It just- it started a while back because of some dumb argument and now we just... kinda do it whenever one of us is being annoying, or something."

The air shifts a little, and a playful smirk starts to grow on Sapnap's face. He throws George a conspiratorial look.

"You know, now that I know all Dream's spots it's a really good way to keep this idiot in line." A small squeeze to Dream's side makes him yelp and George grin.

"Hey! I knohow yours too, shut uhuhup!" Dream protests, indignant tone clear even through his giggles.

Sapnap snaps his full attention back to Dream quickly.

"Yeah whatever." He dismisses, squeezing Dream's side again. "Anyways, where were we? Right, you were about to agree that there's no fucking way the Sooners win that next game against Kent State and you know it!"

So that's what all this was about??

George can't hold back his incredulous scoff. It escapes loud enough to be heard even over Dream's stubborn protests.

He's so preoccupied trying to digest the fact that they woke him up because they disagreed on a football game prediction that he doesn't notice the way Dream's eyes snap to him, attention drawn by the scoff.

The subtle spark of realization, and the idea beginning to form behind the panicked anticipation swimming in Dream's eyes is even more lost on George.

"Wahait Sapnap, nonononoho no WAIT!"

Only when Dream's protest comes with a surprising amount of urgency and giddyness does George manage to focus on the situation again, though not without another incredulous shake of his head.

"And why would I do that?"

Sapnap doesn't appear to be thrown off by Dream's pleading, still smirking down at the other. He does draw back a little bit though, seemingly curious what Dream has to say.

"Ok no, actually wait!" Dream's hands are wrapped around Sapnap's wrists again. There's a wide, excited smile on his face that doesn't seem to be from the tickling anymore.

"We know each other's spots right?"

Sapnap narrows his eyes in confusion. George is starting to feel out of the loop again. But at least Sapnap is right there with him this time, he supposes.

"Yes?"

Dream brushes over the hesitance in Sapnap's voice like he didn't even notice it, seeming so giddy that he might as well start vibrating.

There's a quiet tingle of dread that starts climbing up George's back unprompted, just as Dream opens his mouth to continue his explanation.

"So we know each other's spots," he states, then pauses, like the atmosphere isn't tense enough already. "But now George is here ... and we dont know his spots yet, do we?"

Dream's voice drops dangerously as turns to look at George, even while he's still addressing Sapnap crouched above him. "I feel like this is crucial information, wouldn't you say Sapnap?"

George shoulders raise purely on instinct, the tingling dread intensifying at the borderline predatory expression Dream is wearing. His brain hasn't even fully caught up with what's going on yet, but the switch in atmosphere is enough to make his subconcious scream at him to get the fuck away right now!

There's a flash of startled eye contact with Sapnap when the younger turns to look at him, but before George can even compute the calculating set to his mouth Sapnap is already glancing back at Dream with mischievous glee sparkling in his eyes.

"Truce?"

"Truce," Dream smirks.

It's kind of embarrassing to admit that George only starts to catch on when Dream and Sapnap are already helping each other off of the floor, eyes fixed on him and threatening grins slashing across their faces. It's not his fault! He's not used to this, okay!

"What?" He tries to snap defensively, but his voice is wavering. The alarm sirens blaring in his head grow louder every second.

Everything finally clicks into place when Dream and Sapnap start slowly stalking toward him. George is across the room in an instant, the couch now a barrier between him and the pair.

"Oh no. No, absolutely not! Forget it!"

The words bubble up without any real concious choice. In secret, George doesn't think he minds as much as he's letting on. He's happy to be able to play around with them in person now. But the panicked anticipation he's feeling isn't connected to his rational mind in the slightest, so he's still protesting, finger raised to point at them like he's daring them to come closer.

Undeterred, Sapnap and Dream continue advancing, splitting to round the couch one on each side, their smirks only growing wider as George backs away further, trying desperately to smother the giddy, fluttering feeling simmering in his stomach.

"Don't you dare, idiots!" He hisses, trying to put up a some kind of intimidating front, only to yelp when he bumps into something solid.

George has backed himself into a wall. He tries to cover his shock by throwing what he hopes is a withering glare at Sapnap who had snorted at his startled reaction. The wide eyes and the flustered anticipation tugging at the corners of his mouth kind of ruin the effect though.

Robbed of a way to retreat futher, George shuffles a little along the wall, hoping for a chance to escape. It's only because all of his senses are on high alert that he notices the fleeting look Dream and Sapnap throw each other, their attention off of him for just a moment. He uses that moment to take off toward the doorway halfway on instinct, body moving before his brain has time to catch up.

A surprised shout comes from behind him, followed by the quick thumping of footsteps. George desperately clenches his jaw to hold back his bubbling giggles. The fluttering anticipation that's made itself at home in his stomach only grows worse at the twin teases ringing in his ears alongside his pulse as he's sprinting for the stairs, trying to get to the safety of his room.

"We're gonna get you!"

"Get back here!"

(In the back of his head he's aware that he won't be safe in his room either, if he even manages to reach it, but he's got to try!)

"No wahay idiots! Get awahay from mehehe!"

There's no way for George to choke his giggles back any longer, the giddy feeling grown to all encompassing to try and push down. The most he can do is try and keep his legs steady while darting up the stairs as wave after wave of anticipatory giggles threatens to bring him to his knees.

It's as he's rounding the corner at the top of the landing, feet slipping on the carpet and grabbing the banister for stability that he realizes that this funny, kind of overwhelming but kind of comforting feeling will only grow more familiar to him with each day he spends in Florida. After all, situations like these seem usual, almost like a tradition in this home, the home that he's now finally a part of.

His eyes held none of the gentleness his hands possessed as he lifted them to meet Dream's. Cold and flinty, frozen mud on a winter riverbank, despite the afternoon sun coloring them honey, her warm rays streaming in through the open window.

"All done."

George's tone was light but flat, a hundred different remarks hiding just under his tongue, waiting to be spit out. None of them good.

Dream swallowed, eyes dropping to watch as his own bandage-adorned fingers traced the rim of yet another bandage, wound tightly around his knee. A part of him longed for the protection of his mask sitting idly on the low table nearby, bloody fingerprints still marring the white surface.

This wasn't going to be an enjoyable conversation.

"Stop messing with the wrappings."

George's voice rung out near toneless this time. Dream's hands stilled their light, sheepish tugging at his bandaged knee immediately. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as George started putting away the medical supplies scattered across the table. Hands no longer gentle as he crammed rolls of gauze back into the pouch acting as their med-kit forcefully. Dream sighed, small and guilty.

The soft noise of an empty potion bottle being re-corked made him look up with a wince. George inspected the pink residue at the bottom of the glass with a frown before rising from the bed and walking over to their brewing stand. He opened the chest sitting next to it, letting the bottle join the many others piled up inside. They clinked. All empty.

George closed the chest with a strained sigh, then spun around to face Dream once again. And for all Dream didn't flinch before when George wrapped his scraped fingers, (gentle, always gentle), he did then, cold beneath his disappointed stare. Frozen mud on a winter riverbank.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

George's tone was no longer flat, no longer light. It was sharp now, cutting like the winter wind. Dream's fingers twisted together. The sun's rays painted his hunched figure gold, but she couldn't warm him now, not while faced with the hibernal ire of his best friend.

"Look, I⁠⁠ was— I was just⁠...", Dream stuttered, desperately searching for an excuse good enough to appease the brunet.

"What, then? Spit it out!"

"I— I was trying to train for the next manhunt! And, and the jump didn't look that far and to be fair I almost made it but there was loose gravel so I slipped but—"

"Dream stop." George looked deathly exhausted for a moment, before the ice once again bloomed to shutter any weakness. "I didn't ask what you were doing, I asked what you were thinking."

Dream opened his mouth to try and stammer out a response, but was interrupted by George, the older's collected facade shattering between one second and the next, breaking point. Dream had half a mind to cower from the shards.

"No, you know what? I don't even care! I don't even care." George snapped, features cold and drawn. His anger had always been akin to a blizzard, cutting and hard to navigate and chilling to the core. They were two sides of the same coin, Dream's anger heat and hellfire, quick to ignite and quicker to burn out, while George's was just cold, cold, cold. George was always more terrifying like this.

"I don't care what you were thinking because you clearly weren't thinking at all!" George continued, voice chilling and strained. "Otherwise you wouldn't have left to train without telling anyone the direction you were going. You wouldn't have tried to jump over the largest fucking ravine I have ever seen, only to miss the landing, scrape your hands and knees to hell on your way down, damage your com link and get stuck down there without any resources! You had no resources Dream! No food, no tools, no materials, nothing!"

George had to stop to take a breath then, hands coming up to tug at the fabric of his shirt as he visibly tried to calm the cresting wave of belated worry and emotion and adrenaline. It had been building ever since he'd received the automated distress signal from Dream's damaged communicator. He'd pushed it down in order to care for Dream but Dream was okay now, he was okay, and the wave was so close to crashing and George really, really didn't want to break down while he was lecturing the other.

"You could've⁠— you would've been stuck down there⁠— and I⁠—⁠ I didn't—"

"Oh George," Dream breathed softly, opening his arms in careful invitation. He had spent the whole of the older's rant curling in on himself, cold with shame and guilt, but the quiet wobble in his friend's voice hadn't gone unnoticed. Just one look up at him had been enough to confirm his suspicions and cleave his heart clean in two.

There were tears like icemelt welling up in George's eyes and collecting on his lashline, his formerly cold and rigid features thawing as they contorted into an expression lined with worry and pain. He hesitated for just a second before launching himself into Dream's arms, shoulders shaking with poorly held-back emotion.

"I⁠— I received the distress signal and then you didn't answer my call and I⁠— ," George swallowed with an audible click," I wasn't sure what happened to you, and if you even were⁠— I mean how— how bad it was and you didn't answer and I went looking for you but I— I didn't even know which direction to go and I was so, so fucking worried⁠—"

Dream shushed him gently, softly, cradling his friend's tense form. He listened to George's desperate ramble until the older cut himself off with a forced, deep sigh and started to relax into him, uneven breaths slowly steadying.

After some time George lifted his head from where it had been buried in Dream's chest, dislodging the bandaged hand stroking his hair, but not the one drawing soothing circles on his back, to lock eyes with Dream. He was teary-eyed still, but his gaze was clearing and determined and whispered slow promises of spring-warmth.

"Don't ever do that again."

Dream cracked a guilty but relieved smile. Relieved that George was okay. Guilty that he'd worried him in the first place. He tugged him closer again, guiding his head back to rest on his chest and allowed them another minute to just exist in each other's space, safe and whole, the sunrays settling into their skin.

"I won't. I promise."

...

The tranquil atmosphere persisted for a little longer, it's soft wisps clinging to the two embracing figures, even as both of them started to shift around with limbs numb from disuse. Dream stayed quiet, still caught up in the warmth. George, as usual, had no regard for any kind of extended vulnerability.

"I'm still angry at you, you know?" The comment came with none of the expected sharpness. Instead it was light, softly teasing to match the low, tender glint in George's eyes as he raised them to meet Dream's once again.

Dream scoffed quietly, amused. He played along, the offer to abandon the earlier icy tension in favor of their usual easy chemistry not unwelcome.

"Oh what? And here I thought you couldn't stay mad at me George." He borderline pouted, voice indignant but puppy-eyes full force.

George only raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the daring response, meeting the puppy-eyes with feigned disinterest. The resulting impromptu staring contest, a common occurrence in their everyday interaction, dragged on for a few too many seconds.

It was shattered by Dream's slightly uncomfortable shifting. Try as he might to stay still and let the moment linger, the bandage on his knee was itchy and, by now, almost unnecessary, so he couldn't keep his fingers from drifting down to pick at the edges of the fabric.

"Stop messing with the wrappings, Dream!" George chastised immediately, words an echo of his earlier command but tone infinitely warmer.

This time, the younger didn't cease the motion of his hands. Instead, he barely managed to hold back the pitchy noise trying to claw it's way up his throat as the itching intensified again, throwing George a look halfway between a plead and a challenge. The gauze really was horrible.

"No I won't," Dream argued, whiny. "I wanna take them off. The healing potion did it's job, I'm fine!"

The older just narrowed his eyes at Dream, an unconvinced hum escaping him. Though, despite the chiding noise, his gaze was one of fond exasperation, dawn-sun amusement rising to illuminate his face.

"Is that so?" George questioned. "Are you sure you don't just want the bandages off 'cause the last stages of the healing effect itch like crazy and you can't stand that?"

Dream hesitated for a second, clearly caught off-guard by George seeing right through him. "Errm⁠— no? I mean, no, of course not." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I just don't need them anymore, is all. They're annoyi- uhh no longer neccessary. I'm all healed up!"

George, still sporting the most fondly unconvinced expression Dream had ever seen shook his head, the corners of his lips ticking up.

"All healed up huh?" He leaned forward, a mischievous spark suddenly lighting in his eyes. "Completely fine?"

Dream shifted his weight a little, halfway to uneasy at the sudden change in atmosphere. Charged, electric almost. A summerstorm approaching. George was planning something.

"Uh, yeah⁠— yeah, I'm fine now, I promise." He stuttered out, fingers nervously playing with the gauze wound around his knee.

He watched as George flicked his eyes to Dream's hands, shooting them a look of passing disapproval, light shower of summer rain, before fixing them on Dream's face again. Still with the same mischievous spark as before. His lips twisted into a budding grin.

"Let me check then."

Dream blinked, the demand too innocuous to match George's foreboding expression.

"What?"

"Let. Me. Check. Then." George leaned further into Dream's space and accentuated each word with a quick poke to his chest.

Dream flinched with a small choked noise as the last poke landed just a tad too close to his collarbone. He leaned back a little, upperbody strenght the only thing keeping him from collapsing to the bed and assembled his hands in front of his body,  shielding himself preemptively in case George were to poke anymore... sensitive spots by accident.

George, meanwhile, apparently took his reaction as a denial, because he raised his hand to poke him again...

And Dream, embarrassingly, flinched back even further at the sight alone. Desperately trying to deter George from any further... emphasizing gestures he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind, flushing hot the second it passed his lips:

"Stop, I'm ticklish!"

George just raised his eyebrows, expression wholly unbothered as he leaned closer to push Dream's defending hands away.

"Oh, I know."

Before Dream could even react, mind still muddled from embarrassment, he got pushed down to the bed for good, a surprised squeak escaping him at the sudden change in position. His already wide eyes grew wider still as he took in the way George was now hovering above him, casual as could be, as though there was nothing out of the ordinary going on at all.

At second glance the bright, amused glint in George's gaze would've become apparent, but Dream didn't notice, eyes scrunched shut and head turned to the side to try and hide the helpless smile rising on his face like the morning sun, unreasonably flustered by the position and George's earlier response.

"What's wrong Dream?" George's all too familiar teasing tone was accompanied by an involuntary choked whine from Dream. "I'm just going to check your injuries, what are you all nervous for?"

And despite the way Dream was tensed in anticipation, the sudden sensation of light fingertips settling on his ribs still managed to make him jump. He squirmed when they moved to slowly tap away, puffing up his glowing pink cheeks to try and contain any reluctant noise bubbling up.

All his efforts were for naught when George decided to stop messing around and drop the slow teasing. A sudden squeeze to his ribcage forced a high-pitched gasp from Dream's mouth, eyes flying open and still bandaged hands jumping up to wrap around pale wrists on instinct.

George stilled his fingers with a low disapproving sound. Dream froze at the noise, blinking up at him nervously. But, contrary to his tone, George didnt look disappointed. In fact, he just looked delighted, a sharp grin on his face betraying his amusement.

"Dream," he chastised, "I'm trying to check you for injuries." He gave his ribs another quick squeeze, as if to demonstrate, eyes flashing as he watched Dream throw his head back with a big, goofy smile. "Your hands are in the way."

Dream held back a whimper by sheer force of will alone as he felt George lift his hands up and place them next to his head on the bed. George drew his own hands back after lightly pushing Dream's down into the bedspread, his demand clear:

"Keep them there. I need to finish checking your ribs."

Dream's fingers curled at the order, movement still partially hindered by the covering of bandages. His lips immediately ticked up a little more. The itch of healing had disappeared, now that the process was complete, but it had been replaced by an insistent tingling racing through his regenerated nerves everytime something brushed the sensitive new skin. Which... wasn't very conducive to his overall state of giddyness.

His brain only caught up with the second half of the demand a few seconds later.

"What do you mean 'check my ribs'? I didn't even get h-hurt thehehere⁠— Geheorge nO!"

George huffed in amusement at the squeal, watching Dream squirm around like a worm as he massaged circles into his upper ribs.

"You might have, idiot." The insult held no sharpness, not between the two of them. "I could've missed something while checking  you over before, ever think about that?"

(He really couldn't have. With a check-up as thorough and single-mindedly focused as Dream had received George'd be surprised if there was even a hair out of place still. No way had he missed any bruises or broken bones.)

George spidered his nails up and down Dream's ribcage for a few seconds, delighting in the way the younger arched his back only to crash back down moments later. His arms twitched and shook but his hands admirably managed to stay up by his head.

"But I think you're right Dream. Your ribs are fine." George's voice dripped honey like an overflowing beehive on a hot day, sweetened with feigned worry. "But I'm not so sure about your tummy."

"Wh⁠a⁠—?! Wait no! Nononono pleheHEHEAHASE!"

Dream wasn't even granted time to finish his plea before he exploded into laughter. George smirked in glee as he watched Dream struggle, fingers dancing around underneath his green hoodie. The younger was squirming like crazy, alternating between trying to curl up around George's hands like a bug and trying to push at him weakly, his hands long gone from their instructed position.

George tsked at the disobedience, playfully disappointed facade drawn up even though he'd seen Dream's reaction coming from a mile away. He was more amused if anything, eyes crinkling fondly as he observed Dream who was shaking his head, hair a mess, lost in laughter and overwhelming mirth. His offending hands no longer pushing but instead simply holding on, fingers clamped around George's arm and twisting into the fabric of his shirt.

George kept his attack up for a few more seconds, hands spidering and squeezing to draw out a little more of Dream's wordless laughter, before he switched to gentler poking and tracing, allowing him to calm a little. The softer sensations kept Dream giggling while he almost melted into the bed, small squeaks and jumps marking the times George's fingernails skated over a sensitive spot.

George tried to keep his disgustingly fond smile hidden. Seeing Dream, experienced fighter and daring endchaser be reduced to a pliant pile of panting giggles was kind of adorable, he couldn't help but admit.

Still- he frowned as he lingered on the 'daring' endchaser part (cocky and reckless were more like it)- he wasn't done just yet. The stunt Dream had pulled with that ravine wasn't something he'd just conveniently forget, not even if the younger was currently squeaking adorably and doing his best to curl around himself like a puppy.

"Arms up Dream."

Dream stilled his movement, still lightly panting, the helpless smile on his face growing wider again at the demand alone. The sun got caught in the tears clinging to his lashline.

"Nohohoho cohome ohohon!" He sucked in a breath, trying to calm the giggles bubbling up in his chest. "I⁠— I dohon't deheseherve thihihihis."

George couldn't have stop his eyes from flashing or his eyebrows from raising even if he'd wanted to.

"Oh, you do."

He cut of Dream's protesting with a sharp squeeze to his side.

"Are you serious right now?" George questioned, tone blatantly incredulous. "You left to train for manhunt, without telling anyone where you were going⁠—"

Another squeeze, this time to Dream's ribs.

"Then you got way too cocky and tried to jump a ravine you probably wouldn't have cleared even if you had jump boost⁠—"

"I slipped on gravehehEL— HEHEY!"

George scoffed over Dream's wild laughter as he kneaded into his tummy again. "Are you seriously trying to argue with me right now?"

Dream didn't reply, too busy cackling. Only after George slowed his attack did his laughter calm and his body relax. The respite didn't last. He tensed up again in a flash when George moved to rest his hands back on the younger's sides.

"So, you fell down a ravine because you got too cocky."

A squeeze to Dream's sides.

"You broke your communicator, which I now have to repair again, because of your recklessness, again."

Another squeeze, this time to Dream's lower ribs. Dream couldn't help the way his back arched with a yelp.

"You got yourself hurt on your way down."

George reached behind himself to deliver the next squeeze to Dream's unbandaged knee, sending him an unimpressed look as he screeched.

"Then you got stuck down there without any materials or food⁠—"

He dug his hands into Dream's underarms for a few seconds and watched him squirm while a sharp, self-satisfied smile pulled at his own face.

"Made me look for you, because you got stuck in a ravine with nothing to help you get out, like you were a brand new player, like you've never even set foot into any world before⁠—"

George jabbed his ribs. Dream could barely hold back a squeal.

"Then, you made me use our last healing potion for your injuries. Injuries that could've been avoided had you not been so goddamn cocky!"

He rested his fingertips on Dream's stomach again, leaning forward to meet his eyes with a menacing look. He felt the muscle underneath his fingers contract helplessly at his touch.

"And, worst of all, you made me worry!"

George dug his fingers into Dream's skin, grinning at the responding wild laughter that bounced around the room. He watched as Dream tossed his head back, cackles flowing freely from his mouth, eyes scrunched to half-moons from how wide he was smiling. A gasp escaped George as he almost lost balance, forced to adjust his position a little to avoid being thrown off by Dream's squirming and bucking. Just for that, he dug in a little more.

"GEHEORGE! CoHOme ohoHON, plehehEASE!"

"What, idiot?" George scoffed, his hands switching to spider up and down Dream's tummy until a swipe along the younger's waistline made him collapse with a pathetic whimper. "This is what you get for scaring me!"

Dream shook his head, giggling, hands clenching and unclenching where they lay gripping at the sheets.

"I a-alreheheady saH-sAID IHI'M SOHORREHEHY!

"Oh, I don't want an apology," George smirked evilly, leaning down to meet Dream's eyes directly. "This was just 'cause I felt like it."

Dream's eyes widened at the admission and the sudden proximity, caught off-guard, before he choked out a wobbly whine and reached up to hide his blushing face in his hands, the white gauze contrasting the red of his ears sharply.

George couldn't help the way his smirk morphed into a smile at a sight, nails skating down Dream's tummy one last time to watch him shiver before they slowed, then stilled. His expression became softer as he took in Dream's giggling form, bubbly sounds interrupted by the occasional bright hiccup coming from behind the white wall of fabric.

The sight of the bandages gave George another idea. He didn't want to stop like this, just leaving Dream panting after going for his worst spot like that. It felt a little too harsh... besides, the bandages had to come off anyway, now that the healing potion had done it's job, he supposed.

Sitting back up, he drew his hands back from their unmoving perch on the younger's tummy, noting the way Dream immediately untensed completely and melted into the bed in amusement. George tapped a finger to the other's wrist softly, trying to draw his attention without making him startle. He was nice like that sometimes.

"Give me your hands?"

George couldn't help the way his smile jumped as Dream peaked out from between his fingers, suspicion clear in his eyes at the sudden change in tone.

"Wh-whahat fohor?"

"I promise I'm almost done," George coaxed easily, a non-reply, holding his own hands out to Dream's as encouragement.

"What doho you mehean, almost?" Dream questioned warily, even as he was already moving to place his hands into George's.

He snapped his mouth shut as George lightly brushed over the fabric covering his hands, fingers twitching and corners of his mouth rising involuntarily as the older moved to untuck the ends of the bandages from where he'd secured them, gentle, a mirror of his earlier movements.

George regarded him with a teasing look as he slowly, carefully unwound the bandages from around Dream's hands, taking in the younger's clenched jaw and bitten lip with glinting eyes. The residual heal-tingle was probably making this, as simple as it was, already horrible for Dream.

When the last of the stained gauze had been bundled and dropped to the side George swiped a finger up Dream's right hand, making his fingers curl and twitch, and his hand pull back.

Dream whined as his hand was easily tugged forward again by the grip George had around his wrist. His fingers stayed curled stubbornly, unwilling to allow the older access to his palm, trying to keep the soft and stupidly sensitive newly-regenerated skin protected.

George tsked at the gesture, tapping at Dream's wrist in demand.

"I need to check if it's healed correctly, you know that right?" He challenged.

"I can check for mysehehelf!" Dream shot back, defensive tone ruined by his giggles as the tingling flared up again.

"Dream."

The teasing, threatening note in George's voice made the younger shrink back into himself. "I could always go for your tummy again."

George raised his eyebrows in amusement as the warning made Dream turn his head in embarassment, the fingers of his caught hand twitching before they splayed reluctantly. "Thank you."

Now no longer hindered, George started to trace the fingers of his free hand along the patches of healed skin. It was softer and a little more rosy than the surrounding areas, but otherwise looking perfectly fine, especially compared to the deep scratches that had marred Dream's hands before.

A choked giggle drew his attention away from the hand in his grip for a moment. Dream was obviously struggling to keep his fingers still, if the tremble in his arm, the bright, scrunched eyes and the wide smile were anything to go by. He noticed George's eyes on him and turned his head into his shoulder with another giggle.

Satisfied with the heal effect on Dream's right hand, George took some time to spider his own fingers up and down the sensitive skin, delighting in Dream's freely flowing giggles and high pitched whines whenever one of his nails happened to skate over the new, more sensitive skin.

When Dream tried to twitch away again George let him. He waited as Dream immediately tugged the hand up to his chest, rubbing it over the fabric of his hoodie to get rid of the leftover tingling, before he reached out to encircle Dream's left wrist. He tugged the corresponding hand out of the mess of sheets - the younger had been pulling at them to try and anchor himself- raising it up to inspect it in a similar fashion to Dream's right.

(Dream's responding whine and quietly protesting "Nohohoho" were conveniently ignored.)

To George's relief, Dream's left seemed just as well-healed as his right. The new skin was a little pinker,. but other than that it seemed fine. He hadn't been sure if a healing potion was enough to do the job, the deeper scrapes on Dream's left hand had looked to require something stronger, like regeneration, at first glance. He'd went for it anyway, seeing as a single healing potion was the only thing they had left, and was glad to see that it'd worked out.

George's fingers ghosted over Dream's palm at first, both to legitimately check the nerve sensitivity of the newly healed skin and to watch the younger squirm in anticipation and fight to keep his fingers from curling. George traced his fingertips up the center and the sides of Dream's fingers, just to make it a little harder for him.

Happy with the result of his check he tightened the hold on Dream's wrist before skittering his nails over the younger's open palm for a few seconds, delighting in the giggle fit in sent him into. When Dream predictably curled his fingers George simply moved their hands so he could trace up and down the back instead, following the lines of tendons and keeping his touch as light as possible to drive Dream up the wall.

Only when George started to spider his nails down his wrist and along his forearm did Dream really start squirming and trying to tug his hand back. George, not wanting to overwhelm him, or well, at least not that much, finally let him have his hand back with a last skitter up to his palm.

Moving off of Dream and settling next to him, George watched as the younger immediately curled up, still shaking with giggles and occasionally shivering from phantom sensations, hands protectively tugged to his chest. George firmly rubbed up and down his back, trying to help calm the residual tingles before moving on to card through his hair as Dream shifted to bury his face in the side of George's thigh, melting at the attention like a candle to a flame.

George tried to keep his hands gentle as he played with the blond strands, careful not to tug as he started to untangle the mess courtesy of Dream's squirming, the wandering sun painting his hair golden. When he felt Dream's breathing start to calm and slow, he tapped him to get his attention before the younger could give into the warmth of sleep completely.

"Hmmngh-" Dream turned his head to squint up at him, slightly grumpy from being disturbed just as he was slipping away. "What 's it?"

"Erm⁠—" George started, suddenly awkward, not really managing to meet Dream's eyes for more than a few seconds. Vulnerability did not come easy to him, not even while sitting safe in his sunlit home, the person he trusted most looking up at him. "Were okay right? I⁠— I didn't go to far or anything?"

Dream squinted at him for a few seconds, then turned to nuzzle further into his thigh with a groan.

"Did I tell you stop, idiot?" The question was muffled, but the hidden reassurance shone through bright and clear.

"Well, no." George conceded. "But still⁠—"

"See?" Dream interrupted, voice sunwarmed. "It was fine. Now stop worrying and lay down!" Quieter, he added: "I wanna cuddle."

George blinked at the unexpected request. A nap did sound nice right now, after all the stress from before, he supposed, but... there was no time. He felt a frown run over his face like rainwater.

"I can't Dream," he sighed. "I still need to check your knee, and⁠ fix your com— and we need to plan our next trip to the nether because were out of potions. And blaze powder and⁠—"

"No," Dream grumbled, blindly feeling around for George's arm. "Do stuff later. Cuddle now."

George went to protest again, but got cut off by his own yelp as Dream located his shoulder and unceremoniously tugged him down beside him. George stared down at his best friend, who had already shifted to get comfortable in his new position, head now buried in George's chest and breathing turning slow and deep, feeling a laugh bubble up in his throath.

Like the way he's now finding himself cataloging George's every microhabit.

Okay, Dream can admit, that sounds a little creepy but it isn't, not really! With George across an ocean for most of their friendship Dream can't be blamed for being interested in all the small things he couldn't have noticed before!

Like the way George will scrunch up his nose if his coffee's gone cold, or how he'll make sure his shoes are perfectly aligned after he toes them off, or how he deflects questions with his full body. He'll hunch over a bit, angle himself a little, run his hand through his hair even more than usual, shifting eyes quick to find any other conversation topic in hopes of diverting attention away from his light blush.

Which, in a kind of roundabout way, brings him back to the question that his brain has, for some reason, zeroed in on today. It's.., okay it's a bit strange, it- he wants to know... he wants to know what George will do when he's asked if he's ticklish.

The thing is, he knows, Dream knows the answer already. He knows George is ticklish, courtesy of one too many competitive chess-  turned wrestling matches with Sapnap. It's not about that though. He just wants, no needs, to know how George will react to the question. (There's too many possibilites he can envision playing on loop in his head, he needs to see it for real, he needs to confirm if any of his scenarios are correct, if he was right!)

The clatter of George puttering around in the kitchen shocks him out of his own head. Dream blinks slowly, a little confused at the sudden influx of sensations as reality rushes back.

The room is a little darker than he remembers it being, dusk having passed minutes before. A lone lamp sitting in the corner illuminates the space in a low orange-golden glow, supported by the light of the TV still playing Sapnap's stream at far to high a volume. Dream winces at the noise level, fumbling for the remote, and moves to turn it down.

-Sapnap had asked him to check his stream for the audio issues he'd kept having, and, judging by the crystal-clarity of his screams, everything seems to be fine now.-

Dream sinks back into the couch as the noise reduces to a quiet muttering. The momentary peace doesn't last. Light footsteps alert him to George's approaching presence just before he rounds the corner of the couch, holding his freshly filled MrBeast cup (that he insists on using instead of a glass like a normal person).

And, apparently, just the sight of George is enough for Dream's brain to jump back on it's bullshit, ever-looping train of thought, leaving him to frantically search for ways to ask without making himself look like an idiot with zero understanding of appropriate timing.

He doesn't seem to hide it well, because George immediately notices Dream watching him a little too intently, quirking an eyebrow and sending him a questioning look while setting down his cup on the sidetable.

"'You alright?" George asks, an expression somewhere between curiosity, amusement and concern on his face. "You seem a little out of it, have for a while."

"Wha- uh yeah, I'm fine. I was just... thinking about ermm... stuff. Yeah," Dream stammers out, doing an absolutely stellar job at pretending to feel normal.

"Stuff," George repeats flatly.

"Yes, stuff. It's... not important," Dream answers the unspoken accusation hurriedly, internally praying that his lackluster response is enough to satisfy George's curiosity.

It's not. He can see George opening his mouth to prod some more, not willing to drop the subject yet, but he get's interrupted by a sudden, particularly loud yell sounding from upstairs, Sapnap's room. It echos from the TV a few seconds later, though at a much more managable volume.

They both turn to look at each other, then at the TV with raised eyebrows and matching grins, amused at their friend's overreaction as the screen displays a familiar death message.

Seemingly on to a new topic, George asks: "So, Sapnap's audio fixed itself then?", his eyes leisurely tracking the moving pixels on the screen, posture relaxed, still standing in front of the couch (and also the TV, kind of blocking Dream's view, but whatever).

"Yeah, I guess," Dream replies, a little absentmindedly, most of his higher brain function still caught up in figuring out how to slip the question 'George, are you ticklish?' into the normal conversation they were having... he can't help it, okay?

"George?" His mouth had moved without permission. Okay, well... apparently the time to slip the question into the normal conversation they were having was now, Dream decides, taking the non-commital hum from George as encouragement.

Mentally flipping through all the scenarios he'd envisioned, Dream takes a breath before finally rushing the question out all at once:

"George, hey uh- areyouticklish?"

And the reaction is...

Silence?!

George is still just looking at the TV, maybe a little more intently then before, but other then that it's almost like he didn't even ask in the first place!

Okay, this was not how Dream thought George would react. Vehement denial, or a taken-aback blush or even a dry 'What's it to you' he'd all taken into consideration, but nothing?! No, that hadn't really been part of any of the scenarios his brain had cooked up.

Dream is confused. Admittedly it was a bit of a non-segue but still.. had George maybe not heard him? He had been talking kind of fast, maybe it was that? Well, one way to find out.

"George," Dream calls again, observing the way his friend's formerly relaxed posture momentarily tenses before almost forcefully relaxing again in puzzlement.

"George. Are you ticklish?" He makes sure to speak louder and slower, enunciating his words, especially the last one, carefully.

The answering silence doesn't surprise him as much this time... and so he's able to notice some small little details he'd probably overlooked last time around.

Like the way George is tense, back straight but shoulders slightly raised like he's bracing for something. The way the fingers of his left hand are toying with the bottom of his shirt, a nervous habit of his. The way he keeps his face resolutely turned towards the TV... but Dream can now spot the blush coloring his ears and neck in subtle pink tones.

When he leans to the side a little to catch a look at his friend's expression he only manages to take in his nervous smile-bitten lip and rosy cheeks before George angles his body further towards the screen, pretending to be incredibly interested in the stream.

Dream can't keep the gleeful grin from rising on his face. Oh, this is gonna be good.

He leans back into the couch and crosses his arms in front if his chest, grin never wavering. And then he just waits. Ironically, if there's one thing George can't stand in situations like these, it's silence.

He's proven right when, after just a minute or two, George grits his teeth and throws him a glance over his shoulder. When he sees Dream already grinning at him he quickly whips his head towards the TV again, both hands now fidgeting with his shirt.

Dream does nothing but observe as George seemingly tries to build up confidence. He watches, eyebrows raised and eyes glittering amusedly, as the brunet gathers himself and spins around to the couch, taking a step to grab his MrBeast cup and raising it for a sip.

When he sets it back down he still won't meet Dream's eyes. Instead he starts talking, forcedly nonchalant, trying to change the subject. "Did you say something? Didn't catch that, sorry. Anyway I was thinking, you know how Sapnap sometim-"

"George", Dream interrupts, grin only growing on his face.

"Dream shut up, I'm trying to tell you about this new video idea I just got!" George tries to distract, faking offense. His voice wobbles. He fails.

Dream scoffs lightly at the pathetic attempt at diversion. He leans forward to poke his friend's arm, watches as his hand gets batted away immediately. Admirably George doesn't jump back, still committed to acting like he didn't hear a thing. "Look, Sapnap is- eEMmh"

Self-satisfied edge to his smile, Dream pulls back from the second poke he'd delivered, this time to George's side just under his ribs. Got him!

Dream's voice drops lower.“George.”

"What?!"

A shark-like grin. "Answer me!"

"No!" George hisses, taking a step back. "You can't make me!"

Dream's eyes light up. Now that's a challenge! Not giving George a second to prepare he sits up from the couch, grabs him by the waist and drags him down onto his lap, his friend's back to his chest. He makes sure to keep his arms tight around him, pinning the brunet's own, as he digs his chin into George's shoulder a little.

He waits for the other's surprised yell to ring out before stage-whispering "Ooh, I gotchu now!" straight into his friend's ear, delighting in the answering choked giggle and increased squirming.

Dream can't keep his own laughter down as George, realization now setting in, starts to struggle like his life depends on it, protests a constant flow of "lehet me uhuhup!", "you're suhuch an idiohohot", and the occasional "what the muffihin!". He writhes and wriggles, strains against Dream's arms and tries to buck up, only to squeak as he get's tugged right back against Dream's chest.

"Yeah, you gonna get out?" Dream teases, voice mischievous.

George gives an annoyed groan as he ceases his struggles, body slumping down in the taller's hold. He cranes his head to shoot Dream a narrow-eyed look equal parts challenge and anticipation. "You can't make me say it."

The blond quirks an eyebrow and a smile in response. "Oh, we'll see about that."

Just to tease him a little more, Dream blows a stream of air across George's neck to watch him scrunch up and shiver. Then, figuring he gave George enough time to prepare, he switches his hold to only encircle his stomach, George's arms no longer trapped but also no longer blocking any spots. He draws the circle of his arms closer again and hovers his left hand, pointer finger outstretched, near his friend's right side, his right hand mirroring the position on the other side.

With a self-satisfied twist to his smile, Dream pokes him in the side. Just once. And then he watches in amusement as George flinches away from his finger... straight into the other one already waiting for him! And then he does it again. And again.

Dream can both hear and feel the strained growl reverberating through George's chest as he tries to repress his giggling, stop his flinching and express his desire to kick Dream's ass, all at the same time.

This won't do. He switches to spidering his fingers up and down George's sides, gently vibrating the tips into the bottoms of his ribs everytime he reaches them. George throws his head back, pressing it to Dream's shoulder, his tightly shut eyes and wobbling lip a clear sign that Dream should keep going just like that.

Sure enough, it only takes a few more seconds for George to crack, hands uselessly pushing at Dream's forearms, high-pitched laughter now flowing freely. Dream squeezes him a little tighter for a second, helpless to the surge of affection rushing through him as he watches his friend curl up around his arms, happy giggles falling from his lips and bouncing around the room.

He keeps going like this for a little longer before deciding to change it up. George still owes him an aswer after all. Shifting his left arm to lock securely around the other's chest Dream moves his right hand to deliver a couple squeezes to George's thigh. The brunet nearly jumps out of his skin at the sensation, his shrill yelp making Dream's ears ring.

Scoffing teasingly, Dream lightens his touch from squeezing to simply pressing in and dragging his fingernails over the fabric of George's sweatpants. It's enough to keep him giggling, giddy and light, but it's not enough to endanger the existance of Dream's eardrums anymore, thankfully.

George jolts when Dream jumps to his hip for a few seconds, but it's only when the taller starts drumming the fingers of his left hand still holding George to his chest into his upper ribs that he chokes out a laugh, subconciously leaning to the opposite side.

"He-hey, make it stop!"

Dream smirks at the wobbly complaint.

"No."

George whines, drawing it out, pitch jumping everytime Dream hits a particularly sensitive spot. "Whyy?"

He tsks playfully. "Only you can make it stop remember? You just gotta answer me." Dream's voice drops lower. "George, are you ticklish?"

"You suhuck!" George hisses, scrunching up and shaking his head as the phantom vibrations of Dream's low question refuse to dissipate.

"What, were you hoping I'd forget this easily?" Dream chuckles. "No way!" He switches arms, his right now restraining George while his left reaches for his other thigh. Bracing himself against the initial squeal he repeats the motions and patterns he tested on George's other leg, losing himself in the other's reactions and bright giggles.

The golden-orange lamp bathing the room in a low warm glow flickers. It's now well and truly dark outside, the stars visible through the window. The glass reflects the harsh borders and bright colors of the TV,  Sapnap well into a new game by now.

Dream sighs. This is nice. He's cozy, and it's warm, George's weight on him is kinda like a heavy blanket.

A squeak ringing out right next to Dream's ear reminds him of the task at hand. Apparently the hand formerly on his friend's thigh had migrated up to his hip, lightly squeezing and poking, while he was zoned out, explaining the sudden increase in noise.

Fully zoned back in, Dream notes they way George is now pushing at his hands with a sharp playful tsk, making him freeze in his tracks. 

"C'mon now. First you refuse to answer my innocent question and now you try to escape?!" Dream teases, tone fake-incredulous and accusing.

"I'hihim n-not gohohoing to tehell you anythihiHiHING! YOUhuhu're s-sohOHO AHN- ANNOHOYIHIHIHNG!" George tries to snap, unable to keep his giggling at bay. "THihi-thIS ihis luHUDicrouh-hAH! NAHAHAH DREHEAMM!"

Dream just sighs, playing it up, the disappointed noise entirely at odds with the shark-like grin painting his features. He starts digging his fingers into George's hip and vibrates them, laughing as George interrupts the half-finished complaint he was trying to choke out with a squeal and decends into a hard giggle fit.

"You really should just answer me you know?" Dream muses after a while, deceptively innocent voice raised a little over George's laughter. "Otherwise I might have to go for your armpits."

He lightens the tickles to simple tapping over the other's hipbones while he waits for George to start talking, his wild giggles steadily calming down. But of course George refuses to answer, stubborn as ever, only knocking his head back into Dream's shoulder with a defiant huff of protest.

Dream scoffs. Alright then, he asked for it.

He shoots his hands into George's armpits without preamble, massaging muscle and bone, and is taken by surprise as George arches up immediately, body curved in a frankly impressive display of core strenght Dream didn't know he possessed. He starts squirming like crazy the second he drops back down, eyes scrunched to crescent shapes, happy cackles filling the room.

Dream huffs a small laugh himself as he tugs him back up to rest more securely against his chest. "Nope, youre not getting away!"

George doesn't appear to have heard the teasy remark, to lost in his own fullblown laughter. Dream is pretty sure that if he'd let him go now he'd just slide down like he sometimes does in his chair, laughing too hard to hold himself up.

Inching down a little to George's higher most ribs Dream starts drawing little circles, dialing the intensity back a little. He doesn't want to kill George after all, he just wants an answer. But, judging from the wide, happy smile on George's face, head once again thrown back to rest against Dream's shoulder, he doesn't mind this all that much. (Besides, Dream might be stronger than him, but if George were to throw his full weight against his hold then even Dream wouldn't be able to keep him where he didn't want to be.)

Dream keeps jumping between armpits and upper ribs for a little, content to watch George struggle a bit, before he settles on his ribs, skritching and spidering his nails over the bones and gently pressing into the spaces between them.

George falls into a frankly adorable giggle fit, voice raising in pitch and volume everytime Dream gets closer to his armpits again, the occasional loud yelp and abrupt flinch interrupting his steady flow of laughter when Dream brushes over a particularly sensitive spot. He's no longer pushing at Dream's arms now, instead just lightly holding onto them like he's grounding himself, hands subconciously clenching every now and again at the electric feeling.

The sudden thump of a door being opened with more speed and force than neccessary sounds from upstairs, followed by Sapnap's quick, heavy footsteps making their way to the upstairs bathroom. It's unexpected enough to make Dream jump a little, arms momentarily loosening and allowing George to slide down a bit. George starts with a whine, probably embarrassed at the prospect of Sapnap hearing him giggle his little heart out.

Dream tugs George securely to his chest again, movement absent-minded. He hadn't heard Sapnap close his door again, had he? An idea blossoms in his mind. He grins.

"Hey George," he starts, conversationally, moving up his ribs to just under his armpits again. The upped intensity makes George first freeze, then start squirming like a worm on a hook. His laughter comes louder and faster now, like it's crowding in his mouth before tumbling out all at once. Dream's grin widens.

"Not that your laugh isn't cute," he teases the skin where his hands are resting, eliciting a close-mouthed scream, "but you're being so loud..."

He wrangles his mischievous grin into a semblance of a pout, making sure to let it bleed into his voice. "Sapnap is streaming. You don't want chat to notice, do you?"

(Now, in truth, Dream had no idea if George was laughing loud enough to be picked up by the mic. Hell, Sapnap had probably muted it anyway! But... George's mind was probably too scrambled to even consider that.)

"Shuhut up! This is youhour fault!" George grits out, choking back his laughter, fluster bleeding into his voice. His entire face is flushed. He turns to hide it in Dream's neck with a whine when Dream comments on it, tone bright with fond glee.

George slumps against Dream's chest, halfway to boneless, only to tense back up as Dream's arms unfold and wrap back around him, warm and snug, trapping his own arms once more.

A flutter of Dream's fingers makes George bark out another laugh, following it up with a strained sound halfway between a demanding growl and flustered whine. "G-gehet out ohof my ah- mhmmy armpihits alreadeheey!"

Dream makes a small amused noise at the demand but decides to take it a little easier on him. He lets his hand rub up and down George's shaking sides, allowing his laughter to fade into chuckles, then breathy huffs, and then to a fluttery, pitchy kind of humming, still too wound up to truly settle.

"We're not done yet George. I still want that answer from you." Dream whispers, teasing quiet at the edge of his tone. The atmosphere was shifting to something softer, something he was afraid to shatter, golden-orange and warm like the glow of their lamp.

But still, that didn't mean he wouldn't get that answer from George. Softer, slower touches worked just as well as as harsher ones after all. He hummed in contemplation. If not better.

But how should he play this? Hmm. Momentarily lost in thought he didn't notice his fingers starting to trace small shapes into George's tummy, hands needing something to do. He didn't even really notice the way George pressed himself back into him, trying to escape the barely there sensations.

But what he does notice is the honest-to-God full body shiver and strangled whimper George can't suppress when Dream inclines his head in thought, stubbled cheek and chin brushing up the side of his neck. Oh. So that's the play.

"Ooh George..." he sing-songs, digging his chin into the other's shoulder, "I'm gonna make you say it.~"

"N-no you're nohoT!" George cuts himself off with a sharp gasp as Dream tightens his grip around him and then proceeds to nuzzle at his neck, stubble and all. The brunet tries to hunch up his shoulders, but Dream's face is already in the way. Dream can practically feel muffled giggles already clawing their way up George's throat.

"Yohou reheally n-ah! neehed to shahahave!" He grits out, voice wobbling dangerously. "You're like a-ahaha cahavemAH!"

Dream stills at the ridiculously high-pitched yip escaping George. So.... his ears then. He tries to suppress the mischievous grin that's blooming on his face, with little success. If this is how George reacts when Dream just grazes his ear by accident... and with his nose no less... he cannot wait to see what'll happen when he actually tries.

"No," he quips back, last-word, smile audible in his voice, "I think I like my face just fine like this, actually."

Curious, he brings a hand up and traces the shell of his ear. George lets a few giggles escape, shaking his head to get rid of the sensation and squirming so hard that Dream has to pull his hand away, needing both hands to secure his grip on him.

He's at a loss for a few seconds. He can't use his hands or he'd risk George escaping. His stubble would probably be too sharp and prickly to use on something as delicate as ears. Other options like his hair would probably be to mild, and still other's might be a little too much.

Green eyes flash, an idea suddenly forming in his head. Wait, what if...

Dream leans forward, his own head now closer to George's. George tries to crane his neck to escape him, but Dream just follows.

And then, with a voice so low he's keenly aware of the vibrations buzzing in his own ribcage he repeats his question. Directly into George's ear this time.

"George, are you ticklish?"

And his entire being scrunches.

Dream leans back a little and watches in amusement as he squirms, shoulders raised as high as they'll go, head tilted to the side, rubbing the assaulted ear on his shoulder to get rid of the phantom vibrations. Giggles flow freely from his mouth now, which is adorable, considering Dream didn't even touch him. It's enough.

"Okahahahay, oh-okahay!"

George finally gives in.

"I... I- yehes I aham. Ihi ahaham t-ticklish!" He's blushing bright red, the tips of his ears practially glowing. He's turned his head to the side, embarrassed at his admittance and his defeat, but Dream can just make out the edge of his bashful smile.

Dream huffs a laugh of his own, quietly fond. Still, he can't resist teasing just a little more while he lets his arms fall away, fingers now tracing shapes on the couch cushions. "I told you, I'd get you to say it!"

"Whahatever idiot!" George fires back, never having been a gracious loser in his life. He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the left-over tingles in his ear. When that doesn't work he brings his hand up, rubbing them away, his giggles slowly calming.

As they subside entirely George relaxes back into Dream, a content hum escaping him. He turns to the side a little, head now resting underneath Dream's chin, tugs one of the blond's hands into his own lap and starts to play with his fingers absentmindedly. There's no hesitance to be found in his easy affection. After all he had just spent the last several minutes in Dream's lap, laughing his head off.

Dream, on the other hand, suddenly grows incredibly aware of their position. It's... there's nothing wrong with it, he just... the way George fits under his chin is just... he's not used to this. He feels his ears growing warm. "Umm, are you... do... do you want to get off?"

"What?" George stops short for a second or two. Then he laughs at him, light but so, so gleeful. He flicks at Dream's palm in easy amusement. "Why would you say it like that?"

"I... wha-?!" Dream sputters, realization making his face flush. "No, that's no- I was asking if you're gonna move off my lap or not, you idiot!"

George gives a quiet noise of contemplation, teasing smile set on his lips. Dream stays as still as possible, ears still burning, as George moves to settle just beside him, legs still thrown over Dream's own, head still resting under his chin.

"This is okay," he states.

"Okay?" Dream echoes, slightly confused.

"Okay!" George confirms, self-assured, shifting a little to make himself more comfortable.

(Dream almost passes out when George starts nuzzling into the space under his chin. This is... this much affection is really not what he's used to.)

He only manages to gather himself when George yawns, eyes scrunching to crescents before he curls ever closer with a sleepy huff. The warm rush of fondness flowing through Dream's chest and trickling down his throat shakes him from his stupor. It feels like home.

Dream loops an arm around George as he slowly but surely falls asleep. His small answering noise mixes together with the low murmur of Sapnap's stream, unintelligible. The lamp flickers. Dream hugs George a little tighter, just because he can.

The golden-orange glow filling the room settles in his heart. This: warm and safe and happy, near to the people he's built his entire life around, built his entire life with, this was something he couldn't have helped but doubt he'd ever have.

No, George was not "literally" in hell, but he was still stuck in Dream's weirdly strong grip, arms tight around him even while he slept.

The brunet grumbled, shifting around as much as Dream's hold allowed, sputtering a little as blonde strands found their way too close to his mouth for comfort.

George slumped back down, hand skimming over the carpet behind his friend's back.

Seriously, how was Dream actually taking a nap on the floor? It was comfortable for a little while, but not comfy enough to spend... he craned his neck, taking in the shadows and golden light painting the room in sharp contrasts. Huh, the sun was setting already. Soo... to spend approximately two hours curled in the same position!

Okay maybe he was a little biased, he could admit. Dream's threath had left him jittery, unable to relax, much less fall asleep. George had spent the better half of this involuntary nap time trying and failing to come up with an excuse as to why he actually had to leave his house the second Dream woke up. 'Sorry, I need to deal with... eh... something right quick! You're gonna need to push your revenge back a little, that's fine right?'

He groaned. Yeah, that wasn't gonna cut it.

Once again trying to loosen Dream's hold with a half-hearted squirm, the brunet mentally debated, not for the first time, the merit of just forcefully removing Dream's arms and bolting out of the door. Also not for the first time, he huffed at the thought, disturbing some of the blond curls resting just under his chin. That wouldn't work, Dream would catch up eventually. And..., he turned his head and winced at the bright reflection of the setting sun in his discarded shield, Mobs were sure to spawn come sundown. Making a break for it without any armor was just asking for trouble.

George froze as Dream gave a sleepy mumble and started to shift a little, praying that the other wasn't waking up just yet. He still hadn't come up with a plan!

A drawn-out yawn and sleep-hazy but mischievous green eyes squinting up at him squashed his hopes. Dream squeezed his arms around him a little tighter for a second, cleary amused by George's startled expression, before drawing back to stretch, wincing at the strain.

Taking in his friends disheveled appearence, the blond let a slow smirk crawl over his face. George looked like a startled cat, eyes wide and fixed on the other, unblinking, a mixture of unease and nervous excitement sparkling within. If he had a tail, it'd probably be whipping around in apprehension right about now.

"Good morning!" Dream chirped, teasing. He paused, noticing the golden light bathing the room for the first time, the sun slowly but surely setting outside. "Or good evening, whatever. I had a really nice nap, thanks for asking." He yawned again, eyes shut tightly. Blinking a few times, the last of his sleepy haze disappeared. He squinted at the brunet, voice taunting, knowing: "How was yours?"

The direct question shocked George out of his stupor, mind scrambling for any and all possible ways to escape this situation. Somehow, his brain landed on "sassing back" as his "avoid tickles"-strategy of choice.

"I don't know, you tell me. I was on the floor, couldn't move, getting squeezed to death because you were clinging to me and wouldn't let go no matter what." He narrowed his eyes at Dream. "Sound relaxing to you?"

Dream scoffed, propping himself up on one elbow. His free hand moved to poke the smaller in the ribs, delighting in the resulting jump and gasp. Still teasing, he replied: "Aaalright Grumpy, sorry for asking." He kept dancing his fingers in the air over George's ribs, taking in the held-back squirming with a grin. Only when the brunet swatted at his hand like a cat did he draw his fingers back.

"Y'know I was expecting you to have slithered your way out of my hold by now", Dream commented. "I was ready to pull out the manhunt compass", he chuckled, shooting George a teasing look, "looks like I won't need to, thankfully."

Apparently still trying to cover his flustered anticipation from riling himself up for about two hours, George continued to be contrary.

"Please, like you'd be able to keep up with me after you've just woken up. It's like your body needs twenty minutes to completely boot up or something, you know I've seen you fall flat on your face right after getting up before."

"Oh?", Dream's eyes practically gleamed with amusement in the golden light. "C'mon George, you know I'd catch you if I tried. Besides," he smirked, "how come everytime you stumbled into my camp and woke me up during manhunt, it was still you who got sent back to spawn? Are you saying you're so bad that I can beat you while half asleep?"

"Okay, you know that's not- Hey! " George scrambled to push himself up, only to squeak in surprise and outrage when Dream simply tugged him back down. He stilled when Dream placed his hand on his side in clear warning, holding his breath to keep his traitorous giggles from slipping out.

"Yeah, don't even think about getting up, you still owe me some revenge."

The blond shifted to sit up on his knees next to George, towering over him. Lifting a finger to his chin in fake contemplation, he observed his friends aborted apprehensive squirming with hidden glee.

"You know..., I saw you trip and eat shit while collecting mushrooms yesterday, don't think I didn't." Brushing over the brunet's offended squawk at his wording, he contined:" If you get to fuss about my scars I feel it's only fair to let me check you for injuries now!"

George froze. This wasn't what he'd expected. He'd thought Dream would enact his revenge quickly, content with the way George had wound himself up with anticipation during his nap. But his teasing smirk, the glint in his eyes, the seemingly random segue to his minor fall yesterday... they all pointed to something much worse.

Dream was in a mood, and he was going to drag this out just to make George into a giggling puddle. For fun!

-This was completely unfair, the brunet thought. He'd genuinely wanted to make sure his friend was okay, and Dream was... abusing his kindness! Yeah, he was abusing the kindness he'd shown by using it as a justification for his little games. This was messed up!-

Unaware or uncaring of George's horrible, horrible realization, the taller continued setting up his pretext. "Yeah, your fall looked rough now that I think about it-"

"But it wasn'tt- mhmm nnhnhnhno!"

Dream drew his fingers back from where he'd moved them to wiggle above the brunet, taking in the resulting silence, bitten lip and tightly shut eyes with a self-satisfied grin.

He pulled out his puppy eyes, tone overly caring. "As I was saying, your fall looked pretty rough. I better make sure to check your knees. Your hands too! Wouldn't want anything to remain unnoticed, right?"

With that, he quickly moved to sit high on George's thighs, facing his knees, pinning his legs down. George tended to be incredibly squirmy when tickled, and Dream really didn't want to get knee-ed in the face if he could help it.

Instinctively, George tugged on his legs a little only to find them well and truly trapped. Flustered, he covered his face with his hands trying desperately to hold back his anticipatory giggles. To no avail. He cursed Dream for being able to reduce him to such a blushy mess with so little effort, his usual resolve already considerably weakend by the two hours of waiting he was forced to endure. God, this was embarrassing.

Still, steeling his voice, he protested: "No whahat? I only tripped I- I didn't even get hurt?!", trying desperately to find a way, any way out of this monumentally flustering situation.

Of course, both Dream and George were aware that the smaller had suffered no injuries from his fall the day before. The soft pine needles cushioning the forest floor ordinarily prevented any scratches or bruising, even during high energy chases through the woods. It would've taken a miracle for George to hurt himself tripping over a stray root.

But.... Dream gladly disregarded that little fact in favor of playfully mirroring George's concern earlier in the day, provided with not only an excuse but also a golden teasing opportunity.

"What? Sorry George, I can't hear you. I'm too focused on making sure you're alright!!" With back to George's face, Dream could now allow his small smirk to bloom into a large, fond grin at his friend's continued bright giggles, which only grew worse at his teasing.

Finally deciding to spare George any further anticipation, Dream started lightly tapping his fingers just above his friend's kneecaps, chuckling warmly as the other twitched and tensed in response. He wasn't even doing anything yet and George was already halfway gone! Typically getting the other to accept his defeat meant braving a mix of confident defiance and small insults thrown in his direction. But this time-

"Hhey dihid you fall back asleep or whahat? I thought you -mhhmm- wantehehehed to get rehevenge oohohor something", came a giddy question from behind him, George's challenging tone recognizable even through his giggling and the jumping pitch of his voice.

Dream huffed in quiet amusement. Spoken too soon, apparently. Leave it to George to somehow regain the energy to talk back even after working himself up for two hours.

Never able to deny such a challenge, Dream abandoned his teasy approach in favor of squeezing the muscle right above George's kneecaps a few times in quick succession before drawing his hands back, only to return to the same spot the second he heard his friend try to throw another snide comment at him.

He grinned at George's aborted taunts, entertained by his friend's struggle between the unbearable sensations coursing through his system, and his ever-present and ever-strong need to be as much of a menace as possible in any given situation. Like now, for example.

-"Cohome on Dreheamm, is thahat really all you gohoHOHOT-?! NOHOHOHO WAIT!"

-"Are- Are yoU seheheriously gohohoing to ihi- interuhuhupt me ehehe-every tiiIIME?!"

-"Ahahalrihight lohoser brihing ihIT OHohohon- ngh-! NNOHOHO COHOME ON!"

"Drea-- naahAH whahahat why!? Ihi dihihidn't eheheven say anythihiHiHING YEHET?" George protested, wiggling like a worm behind Dream's back, hands in his own hair, smile so wide his eyes squeezed shut.

Dream drew his hands back from above George's kneecaps and adjusted his weight on his friends thighs a little. George really was incredibly squirmy. He huffed in barely concealed exasperation. "You were going to, dont even lie."

His own ceasing of back-talk had granted George a small break from the terrible squeezing Dream was delivering to his knees as payback. He slumped to the ground, boneless and still giggling from the sparking aftershocks. "I wahahahsn't", he defended himself, knowing full well that he had been planning to throw another insult at his friend.

"Yeah sure idiot. And I'm a creeper", Dream responded, rolling his eyes so hard he was surprised they didn't jump out of his skull. Did George really think he wouldn't recognize his lying voice? It wasn't even his good lying voice, for crying out loud!

"At least make it a little convincing if you're gonna try and lie to me, genius. Now...", he pondered evilly, raising a finger to his chin in fake contemplation, "where should I tickle- eehrm I mean, check for injuries next hmm? Any preferences George? C'moon I knoow you wanna answer me", he goaded.

Flustered, George curled to the side as much as possible. He did not, in fact, want to answer Dream. He would actually much prefer to sink through his floor and never surface again. If Dream kept this awful teasing up he was going to die- oh God no what?!

The blond, seemingly tired of waiting for his friend's internal tirade to conclude had decided to try something new. Leaning forward, he had started kneading his fingers into the brunet's calves, pinching and prodding at the skin and muscle towards the side and the back of the other's lower legs. Not sure what to expect from this previously unexplored spot, he jumped, startled, at the sudden screech coming from behind him.

Turning to look at his friend with a questioning look, he was greeted by wide, surprised eyes. George had slapped his hands over his mouth, wobbly smile peaking out through the gaps between his fingers, looking just as caught offguard by his reaction as Dream.

The blond barked out a laugh of his own at the sight, committing the unusual spot, and his friends hilarious reaction, to memory for future use.

Turning his head back around to face George's legs once more, he returned his hands to the other's calves, switching between lightly grazing his fingertips over the skin to build anticipation and suddenly squeezing to elicit more high-pitched squeaks. He smiled at the way they mixed with George's incessant giggles bouncing around the room, lit up in tones of orange and red by the setting sun.

Soaking in the light and the playful atmosphere, Dream was caught offguard by a unexpectedly strong tug on George's legs. He'd apparently hit a particularly sensitive spot. Hands flying out to keep himself upright he teasingly reprimanded: "Hey, stop squirming so much! After all, I just want to make sure you're not hurt~..."

George, long ripped from his previous drama queen act by the sensations shocking his body, whined: "Noho! I didn't get h-hurt I prohomisehehe!"

"Yeah, i think I'll be the judge of that. I did say my scars didnt hurt and you still insisted on checking for yourself." Dream countered. "Though, I guess... if you're willing to admit that I'm a good medic and can look after my scars perfectly fine... I might trust your judgement and stop 'checking' on you myself", he continued, giving George an out.

"Yeah, I don't think so idiot! You know you can't be trusted with your injuriehehehes- waAHAIT DREHEHEAM NO!"

Dream kneaded into George's thighs with a sigh, playfully put upon. Provoking instead of taking the out... George could hardly be anymore obvious. He was enjoying this, able to let loose and spend time with his friend, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut in bright laughter. Aaand... Dream rolled his eyes... he was apparently also enjoying commenting on Dream's every move with snide little taunts, choked out through his giggles.

George, for his part, was not about give into Dream's bullshit claim of being a good medic. He was, however, about to make the other's life a whole lot more difficult. After all the shifting both of them had done, Dream's position on his thighs was more than a little precarious... so if he just...? George stilled his squirming, then bucked his hips, trying to get Dream to lose balance. And he did! George's giggling almost turned to wheezes, laughing at his friend's embarassing shriek and flail as he only just caught himself from faceplanting into the carpet.

Righting himself, exasperated but chuckling due to poorly-hidden adrenaline, Dream let out a slightly flustered warning growl.

George, endlessly amused by the blond's reactions and always ready to cause more trouble, didn't think twice before pushing himself up and squeezing Dream's sides from behind. Then answering squawk it elicited was almost enough to make him collapse back in laughter again, but he held on, burying his face and his giggles between Dream's shoulderblades instead.

Another quiet growl, this one markedly more flustered than the last one, wobbled through the air. Dream seemed to gather himself. When he next spoke, his tone was low and threatening. "Oh you think it's so funny. You think it's sooo funny, don't you George?"

George, slightly taken aback and more than slightly flustered by this new development, but as usual lacking any sense for self-preservation, only squeezed Dream's sides again in response.

Repressing the high-pitched whine begging to climb up his throat at the sensation, Dream whipped around to face George completely, sitting down on his hips to keep him pinned and catching his friend's hands in his own to prevent them from diving in towards his sides again. He looked down at the older with narrowed eyes, unimpressed.

George flinched back at the sudden flurry of movement, tugging on his hands instinctively, meeting the other's glare with a suprised, wide-eyed look. His eyes only grew wider as Dream transferred both his wrists to one hand, hovering the other over his exposed side.

"Dream help !" George paused, then flushed bright red. "Wait no I meant wait!! Nohoho Dreheam waIT!"

Dream did pause for a moment, perplexed by George's plea and his reaction. His confused face contorted into one of pure glee and mirth a few seconds later.

"Did you just...?" Dream grinned, voice teasing and brimming with self-satisfaction and amusement.

"No, I didn't! I don't know what you're talking abou-" George stifled his own protest, aware of the added weight of Dream's free hand now resting on his side.

"Oh no, I think you know exactly what I mean George", Dream leaned closer to his friend's blushing face, smirk only growing at the responding whine, laughing out loud as George turned his head away, eyes firmly closed, biting his lip in embarrassment.

"You just called for me... to rescue you from myself ! Didn't you?" Dream continued to tease, glee dancing in his eyes. He squeezed George's side once. "Didn't you?"

"Noho, I dihidIDN'T!" George tried to snap, only to get interrupted by another squeeze to his side. He was left giggling as Dream didn't let up, dancing his fingers up and down the skin, to the base of his ribs and down to the top of his hips again.

"You totally did!" Dream wheezed, absolutely delighted by the teasing opportunity George had provided him with. Deciding to let it go for now, he made a mental note to not let George forget this particularly incident, ever. At the moment, though, he had other teases already set up aand... some more revenge to get!

"Y'know George, I didn't even think to check your sides for injuries, thanks for reminding me", he quickly squeezed the brunet's sides with his free hand, switching between them. Securing his grip on his friend's wrists in his other hand, he talked over the squeaks and giggles echoing in the room. "But, if I remember correctly, I really wanted to check your knees and... hmm what was it.... oh yeah, your hands!"

Interrupting himself to giggle at George's renewed frantic tugging on his caught hands, Dream continued: "And it seems you want me to check on them too since you've already given them to me! How nice of you!"

George did absolutely not want Dream to 'check' his hands. Not only were they incredibly ticklish if touched light enough, the sensations also made him melt into a puddle, whether he wanted to or not. And he very much did not want to! Because Dream, the idiot, the loser, the... dumbass was looking way to self-satisfied! He didn't want to give Dream the satisfaction of seeing him completely melt and giggle and whine while Dream himself got to be so cocky without repercussions! That was just unfair!

"George!" The call of his name ripped the brunet from his internal protest. Dream playfully glared down out him, fingers clamped around George's still subconsciously tugging wrists. "If you don't stop tugging on your hands I'm gonna lose balance again... and I think I'll need to catch myself on your ribs." George froze while Dream continued: "And we wouldn't want that now, would we?"

With eyes narrowed to a convincing glare, but mouth twisting in a desperate attempt to keep a giddy smile down, George let himself and his hands go limp in Dream's grip, accepting the turn of events. The threath of tickling on a spot as devastating as his ribs was enough to make him give in to Dream's whims, the prospect of soft touches on his hands, even if it melted him for the other to see, a much more welcome thought at the moment.

Dream huffed in amusement at the other's sour expression. "That's what I thought", he hummed, sitting up to get off of George and settling back down next to the brunet with his legs crossed loosely.

He lightly tugged on the brunet's wrists, trying to get him to move to a better position. George only sent him a challenging look. Just because wasn't going to be contrary didn't mean he was going to be cooperative.

Dream raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. He leaned forward, hands moving to clamp down both sides of George's ribcage and, ignoring the other's surprised and anticipating squeak, used his grip to maneuver the other's upper body so he lay halfway on his lap.

George threw him a startled look from where his head now rested on Dream's thigh. The blond met his eyes with a mocking glance. "What? If you're not gonna move I'll do it for you", he explained. "Now gimme your hands."

Still uncooperative, George just blinked up at him, making no move to comply with Dream's demands. In fact, he did the opposite, shifting to hide his hands under his back, away from the other's grasp.

Dream groaned in exasperation. "Stop making this so hard", he whined, "we both know you like it!" At George's responding flustered head shake he continued, "yeah you do, you would've pushed me off or actually protested by now if you didn't!"

"I do not", mumbled George, a light pink blush dusting over his ears and cheekbones at being called out. The anticipation of hand tickles, which could be nice sometimes, so what, was already starting to get him in a much softer, more compliant mood.

"Yeah sure, whatever, you don't", Dream huffed, still a little annoyed but now mostly endeared, watching the way George had started to subconciously nuzzle into his thigh. "Now could you please give me your hands?"

Shifting around to turn on his side, the brunet curled up in his lap a little, hands retrieved from behind his back now playing with the edge of Dream's shirt. "Thank you", Dream commented, barely able to bite back a disgustingly fond smile as he scooped up one of them, the left, with both his own.

George was fighting his own smile, though for different reasons. He couldn't keep his body from curling closer around Dream's, or his hands from forming loose fists, anticipating the devastatingly soft sensation on his palms.

Dream lightly tapped the back of his hand, worldessly asking him to uncurl his fingers. When he hesitantly did, Dream slid one of his hands into the space and laced their fingers together a little, the gesture both a simple affection and a way to hold George's hand and forearm still.

Reminiscent of just a few hours ago, though now with roles reversed, Dream started lightly tracing his fingertips and fingernails over his friend's skin, from the back of his hand down to the base of his forearm, back up to his hand. He smiled at the responding shivers that travelled through George's body, watching the brunet's own smile widen at the soft sensation.

Moving their intertwined hands up a little, he started swirling his fingertips up and down the inside of George's forearm. The small huffs and silent giggles that clawed their way up George's throat were muffled in the fabric covering Dream's thigh.

The smaller pressed his nose, and his smile, even deeper into the muscle when Dream's fingernails started skating around the inside of George's wrist, drawing small shapes and then lazily following the lines of tendon and bone and veins up and down and around the sides of his arm.

When Dream got bored following the lines painted beneath George's skin he slightly turned their intertwined hands, lifting his own palm from the brunet's to allow his own searching nails access, their hands now only interlocked at the fingers.

George whined into Dream's thigh, body squirming and curling ever closer around the blond's legs, but still made no move to tug his hand back. Dream alternated between brushing his fingertips and fluttering his fingernails over the soft skin, tracing along his palm lines and joints while George's fingers twitched, trying to curl but still held between Dream's own.

Speaking of... Dream seperated their hands. George's dropped down into his lap, but made no move to join it's counterpart currently holding the edge of Dream's shirt in a death grip. He scoffed lightly. "Do you want me to do all the work? Are you not even gonna hold your hand up yourself?"

George turned his head slightly to glance at Dream from the corner of his eye, the edge of a smile equal parts giddy and self-satisfied becoming visible. "Mmmhm... no!" He giggled, burying his head back into Dream's thigh.

Dream took a moment to wonder when his quest for revenge had turned into him doing whatever George wanted, but then decided he didn't care. However they got here, it was comfortable, blue dusk making them both a little softer, red sun having finally dipped below the horizon a few minutes ago.

He took George's dropped hand back into one of his with an amused sigh, seperating his fingers and brushing his own around and between them, letting out another huff as George tugged on his shirt with his other hand in reaction, unwilling to curl his fingers and lose the pleasant sensation but unable to stand it unmoving.

After a while he dropped the hand he was holding back down, demanding George's other one with a tap to his head. Groaning, George shifted around to make reaching it more comfortable for both of them, losing his hiding place in Dream's thigh but finding a new one nuzzling in the side of his hip, now even more tightly curled up in his friend's lap.

Dream reached for George's right hand, tracing up and down his forearm and playing with his fingers a little absentmindedly, caught up in their closeness and the emergence of blinking stars just outside the window, dusk giving way to night between one blink and the next.

Getting ripped from his reverie by a yawn followed by a giggly huff from George he slowed his fingers. Following with a yawn of his own he mused: "It's getting dark, and you still haven't told me that I'm a good medic."

George pushed himself up from Dream's lap, eyes hazy and tired but mouth twisted into a little self-satisfied smile, looking a little like the cat that got the cream. Fitting, Dream thought to himself. "That's 'cause you're not a good medic, Dream", George huffed.

"Hey!" Dream whispered, playfully offended but still unwilling to break the soft atmosphere. "No, I am! Say it!" He poked George in the side. "Say it!"

"Noho I wohon't! I'm not in the habit of lying, you know." George responded, yawning. Opening his eyes again to Dream's incredulous expression he bit his lip to suppress a smile.

"You- you're not in the habit of lying?! Wh- you lie all the time! You just did!" Dream protested, confused. He scrambled up from the floor as George pushed himself up, slowly turning towards his bed. "Hey, where are you going?!"

"To sleep idiot, I'm tired." He spun around and took Dream's wrist, tugging him towards the bed while walking backwards. "You're coming too, I'm not letting you outside, mobs are spawning-", George gasped as he fell back on his bed, having misjudged the distance and tugged Dream down on top of him. Wheezing out a breath at the sudden increase of weight on his ribcage he pushed Dream off of himself: "And you're playing pillow this time, I just spent hours with you crushing my thighs!"

"Hours?" Still confused but starting to get with the program, Dream crawled up the bed to lay down correctly, tugging the blankets out from under himself and held them up for George to join him. "No shot was it hours! And weren't you just laying in my lap? Why do I have to be pil- oomph!"

Having gotten up to extinguish the last of his lanterns George jumped onto the bed, knocking the breath out of Dream. "Because I just got tortured, that's why." He cuddled closer to the taller, head on his chest, looking up at the stars through the window. Quieter, he added: "And because you're more comfortable."

"What?"

"I said because I'm cooler and a better medic than you!"

Dream furrowed his brows and yawned, the work done earlier in the day catching up to him. "I don't think that's what you sai-"

"Whatever. Stop talking and look at the stars with me", shushed George, both their breathing slowing as they blinked up at the firmament, eyelids heavy.

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