“Boo, you whore,” Dream groans as his beloved daughter slips out of his lap and trots towards George—actually trilling in greeting.
“Well hello to you too gorgeous girl,” George replies, adding in the occasional meow when Patches responds. “Who’s the best, sweetest, most darlingest girl? Yes, it’s you. Don’t listen to Daddy. He’s just jealous you like me better.”
“You’re a whore too, George. You both are.” Dream sighs, hands in the air like he’s giving up the fight.
George strides over, Patches tucked firmly in his arms. When he sits, it’s pressed right against Dream’s thigh. Where they touch is warm, and leaves Dream’s brain feeling a little fuzzy.
“You okay?” It’s the first time George has broached the topic—one they steadfastly ignore out loud.
Dream inhales, then exhales very slowly through his nose as he considers the shit show of the last few days. “I’m..” Dream opens and closes his mouth a few times but the words don’t come out.
Instead of saying anything, George slips his whole body into Dream’s lap. Patches is still wrapped in George’s arms, but they’re all huddled together now, with George’s head pressed to Dream’s chest. It takes a few minutes, but Dream can feel the tension and stress slowly melting away.
“I think I should call Martin.” There’s a heavy weight to these words, and he knows George can feel it too.
It’s like saying ‘I love you’ in so far as each word is innocuous on its own, but you put them together and say them to someone specific and it can change everything. And yet, saying them to George was still far easier than what he wants to do now.
“Do you want any help with that?” George replies, fully aware of the gravity of what Dream is saying. And Dream loves him even more for not making it out to be a huge deal. “I have nothing on for a bit so if you want me to go too?”
“No that’s—” Dream inhales again, exhaling a shaky breath. “It’s fine. I think we might be able to do it over video call.”
Patches hears a sound in the distance and it has her scurrying out of George’s lap—probably Milo or Naomi, or God forbid..both. When she’s gone, and only George remains in his lap, Dream still feels surprisingly calm.
“You know those whole emotional support pets?” George chews on his lip as he mulls the thought in his head.
“Yeah? What, you think Patches? Nah, she’s great for me but neither of us are particularly great at actually going places.” Dream laughs quietly.
“No, I was wondering if they did that for people? Like emotional support people?”
“Isn’t that just therapy?”
“Idiot,” George huffs like he’s trying not to laugh, and is, instead, mildly annoyed that his idea was shot down.
Later, when George is busy torturing Sapnap with his presence, Dream sits on his bed, his phone in hand, just staring at the call screen. It’s a stupid button, that’s all he had to press. But the weight was strong.
At the door, a little trilling noise grabs his attention.
Patches pushes her way in, hopping onto the bed at his side. Immediately she sank into a loaf and purred, filling Dream with an almost ethereal calm. His large palm sinks into her fur, grounding himself in the vibrations of her pur. He hits ‘call’.
“Hello?” Comes an older, cheerful male voice.
“Dr Martin? It’s Clay. I-” Dream inhales like he’s gearing himself up to kill the Ender Dragon. “I’d like to schedule a therapy appointment with you.”
For @alittledizzy I hope this is fluffy enough. <3