The Dream Case || Dreamnotfound

9

George slowly drifted to conscious, a small smile on his face. He felt a warm presence behind him and scooted closer to the warmth.

Clay nuzzled his neck into George's neck in response. George's back was pressed up against Clay's front, their legs tangled together.

"G'morning Georgie," Clay greeted, his voice deeper than usual from sleep.

George sighed softly and turned over to face Clay. "I know what to name Cat."

Clay blinked at the sudden topic. "Oh yeah? Is it Clay Junior?"

"No," George replied with an eye roll, "Luca— like the movie we watched last night."

Clay hummed, "That's a good name."

"Right? It's perfect like him and the movie and..." George paused his rambling as Clay pressed a kiss to his jaw.

Clay murmured, "And you."

George giggled softly and lifted Clay's chin with his fingers. He looked between Clay's gentle eyes and his gaze lifted to his hair. George's fingers travelled up Clay's jaw and to his hair.

He played with Clay's hair quietly, enjoying the way soft strands met finger tips.

"We should do this more often," Clay murmured.

"Yeah," George said with a soft sigh, "but it wouldn't work with my work schedule."

Clay's eyes darted to the wall behind George, where his collection of information rested. Clay looked back to George and said, "Hypothetically speaking, if Dream killed less, you would have more time, right?"

"Mhm— well sorta," George mumbled, "I still have to solve the case even without the murders."

Clay nodded and George muttered, "I wish he would just turn himself in. With all the murders he's committed, you think it would really drag down his conscience."

"He probably has a reason."

George scoffed. "There's no reason that would justify killing that many innocent people."

"Maybe they're not innocent."

"They are— why are we talking about this?" George questioned. "It's my burden, not yours."

Clay looked away and shifted to lay on his back. He stared at the ceiling. "Maybe he's being forced to murder, you ever think about that? Maybe he has his own problems."

George shifted to lean on an elbow. He looked down to Clay with furrowed eyebrows. "Just leave it alone. Clay, there's no use trying to see his point of view. He's a monster and a psychopath."

Clay flinched and said quietly, "I'm sure he is."

"Why are we talking about this? Let's get breakfast."

Clay sighed and followed George to the kitchen. George fed Luca and got a pan ready for eggs. Clay sat down and stared at his hands, which were resting on the table in front of him.

George cooked breakfast quietly, listening to the sizzle of the eggs. He was confused at Clay's downcast mood.

Minutes later George set a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Clay. Clay stared at them blankly. George asked quietly, "Clay?"

Clay met his eyes briefly before looking back down. He mumbled, "Do you ever wish that things were different?"

"What do you mean?" George asked as he sat down beside Clay.

"I—" He sighed. "Never mind."

Clay picked up his fork and ate quietly. George did the same, casting Clay worried glances. Clay's phone buzzed minutes later and he left the room to answer it.