𝚈𝚎𝚜, 𝚂𝚒𝚛 [ᴰʳᵉᵃᵐⁿᵒᵗᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ*ff]

Chapter 0.7 - pleasing a storm

So, George wakes up not in his own bed.

I wonder, what could happen-

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It was a single ray of sun that ended up waking George from his slumber. A small crack in the wooden window blinds letting a touch of golden light find its way directly on top of the boys right eye. With a small shuffle, he turned his head, the cold air from the room flooding through a gap in the blankets and sending a shiver down his spine.

It was nice, though. This feeling. So warm, so comforting. And damn, for once well rested. It made a small smile form on George's lips at the thought of feeling like himself again. Happier and energised to wake up and make the kids some breakfast.

The kids. George shifted to his other side again unsteadily, squinting at the beam that had awoken him. None of the kids had come to wake him up. Strange, by now Tommy would be jumping on him or Tubbo would be crying over a grumbly tummy. With a little panic now growing in the pit of his stomach, George sat up. His arms stretch out as he rolled his head back, a little stiff from such a deep sleep.

"You look cute sleepy." It was almost a whisper, but George heard it alright. That low rumble of a voice that triggered ever muscle in the boys body to freeze.

He turned his head, and there the man stood. Buttoning up his last shirt button before grabbing a jacket from the night stand, still not looking over. George could feel his breath become shallow as he watched the teacher roll up his sleeves, his large fore arms tensing and-

"There's breakfast in the kitchen." He said indifferently, opening the bedroom door. "Get dressed."

The younger sat in silence, looking down at the grey silky bed sheets that just covers his lower body. The cold air hit him once more, and George huddled his arms closer. His bare arms. George wasn't wearing any clothes. "Wh-" His eyes frowned. "No. No way."

After a few seconds of sitting stunned, he decided there was no point staying uncomfortable. George quickly grabbed the large white shirt and threw it on, not bothering to button it up all the way, and grabbing the shorts left there also. It was a shabby outfit, but it still looked like the comfiest thing the Professor owed. Until today, George was certain he only wore suits and smart clothes, but this long shirt was too big to be smart. He laughed at the image of Dream coming home and changing his smart white shirt for a slightly roomier one.

And then he smelt it, the blessing scent of warm bread. Following his nose, George left the room and walk down a tight hall way, arriving at a bright white and open kitchen. And there he was, in all his glory. The light reflected off his features elegantly, crafting shadows and shapes under where he sat. He looked god like- the luminosity of the man drawing George closer. For god sake, it was as if he had bathed in glitter, the older was glowing where he sat.

"Hey." He managed to speak up, grabbing Dreams attention. George crossed his legs, pulling at the bottom of the shirt to cover more of himself in a nervous fashion, "so about last night-"

"Eat first." A plate was push out next to where Mr. Dream sat, and George quietly took the seat next to him. The food looked pretty good for just toast.

"Ok-okay." George wasn't completely sure Dream even heard him reply, but began to feed himself anyway. The boy was starving, and no amount of awkward could keep him away from a buttered slice of white bread.

"Nothing happened, last night." Dream turned abruptly, the new paper in his hand crumpling. "You collapsed in my office so I brought you here to sleep."

George nodded calmly. "My, my clothes?"

"It rained on our way from the car to my house. By the time I opened the door, we were both soaking. So I took them off." The man let the paper fall from his fingers, shifting his body fully to face George head on. "Anything else?" He looked on the edge. Inpatient.