The Tragic and the Pure - DreamNotFound

Chapter 13

He... really cares. George's chest tightened, lashes falling to study the dragon more closely. 

Shadows kissed the skin beneath emerald eyes, making him wonder when Dream last got a full night's sleep. His black nails, always glossy and sharp, were chipped at the corners as though they'd been bitten.

How did I not notice before? George frowned. I doubt he's had much private time to rest, what with me invading his room the past two nights. 

"If you stare at me any harder I fear I might burst into flames." Dream quirked a brow at him, tilting his head slightly. "What is it?"

"Nothing, got lost in thought." The reply fell softly, quite unlike the prince's usual mouth of thorns. "I've nothing to do up here, let me take over this project."

"You are better suited to it than me," The dirty blond agreed. "I don't know how you ever sat through hours of writing formalities, I'd take combat training any day." 

 "And it shows." George slanted an exasperated look at the other's barely illegible handwriting. He pitied the paper for bearing such atrocity. "I'd be shocked if you possess a single gene capable of written diplomatic affairs."

"At least I didn't stab myself in the foot the first time I held a sword." Dream shot back.

"For the last time, the hilt was slippery from your disgusting sweat!" He fumed. "And you promised to never speak of it again!"

"Tch, tch." Dream clicked his tongue. "So much anger for such a small body."

"I can't decide if I want to kill you, or throw myself off the balcony again." George dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

He'd barely been awake an hour, and he already had a headache.

"Fun as that sounds, allow me to offer a third option." 

"Which is?" He didn't bother lifting his head, already prepared for another whimsical response.

"We're set for a day of nasty weather, and those wounds need fresh bandaging." Dream placated him. "Perhaps you could postpone plotting either of our demises for a chance to beat the rain?"

"Couldn't I just use a bucket to wash up?" Heterochromatic eyes peeked from slender hands, giving the balcony doors a less than enthusiastic look. 

The howling wind did not sound inviting. 

"Afraid not." The dirty blond smiled apologetically. "A cold front's been pushed in, hence the storm building outside. I think it's safe to say winter is right around the corner."

That explained the added bite to the air when George woke up. He'd gotten used to the chill of autumn, but he'd been warm and comfortable indoors up until now.

A bucket of water simply wouldn't stay hot long enough to treat each wound on his body. If he rushed, he'd accidentally rip off the delicate scabbing.

"Guess it can't be helped." He dropped his hands with a sigh.

"I'll go warm the bath now." Having obtained the prince's compliance, Dream got up and strode towards the balcony. "My winter cloak is in the chest, please put it on."

George hummed in agreement, side-stepping the blast of icy wind. He winced at the ferocity of it, feeling the room around him drop in temperature. He didn't know what he was thinking when he suggested using a bucket to bathe.

He'd already pounced on the chest before the doors clicked shut, locating the hefty cloak almost immediately. Sliding his arms into the sleeves, he found himself in a bubble of warmth.