The sun had barely risen when George awoke, propped up on the couch, in almost the same as when he fell asleep. The only difference was that Dream was turned towards him, laid on George's leg, and his legs was brought to his chest.
It was adorable.
For a moment, until as George went to stretch his arms, he brushed against Dream's forehead.
It was on fire.
I knew he shouldn't have been out that long without a proper coat. George huffed, as he leaned back against the couch.
Dream stirred, his eyes fluttering halfway open. He murmured something in displeasure, pressing his hands against his head. George brushed his hand against Dream's hair, very lightly petting his head.
"I think you have a fever.." He said softly. As a response, a cough wracked through Dream's body, causing him to press his hands into his face harder and attempt to curl tighter.
George continued to stroke Dream's hair.
"I'll need to get some things." George said softly.
Dream nodded in response, and allowed him to get up. A few minutes later he returned with a few moments later, thermometer, ibuprofen (he had convinced to Dream ro replaced the expired bottle located in his room a few weeks earlier), and a cup of tea.
For once he was glad Dream kept an assortment of things he never touched across the house. He placed the tea on the table, and handed the thermometer to Dream.
A minute later the thermometer beeped and flashed, showing the number 102.6.
"As I suspected. Now sit up and have some tea and medicine." Dream slowly sat up, taking the tea with a slightly shaking hand, and taking the pill with ease. He then proceeded to flop dramatically back down onto the couch.
"I'm dying and you look so disappointed." Dream managed to crack a small smile, looking at George with his hazy eyes.
"You're under my care for the day, through your own fault, so deal with it." George harrumphed.
"While you're semi-conscious we should move to your bedroom. It'll be more comfortable that way." Dream groaned at the prospect of moving more, but eventually made his way, with guidance form George, to his bedroom.
He flipped onto the bed, and managed to fall asleep moments later. George logged onto Dream's computer and began to do his own school work that he had been meaning to catch up on.
After a few hours of this, he switched over to minecraft. Before he knew it, it was already twelve.
"Time for lunch." He said, stretching the chair. Dream stirred slightly behind him.
He made two sandwiches quickly, as most of the ingredients inside of Dream's fridge looked questionable at best.
After returning to the room with a half eaten sandwich, placing the one not eaten on the bedside table, he made his way back over to the desk.
He spun around in the chair so he was able to see Dream as he slowly reached over and grabbed the sandwich, quickly devouring it and flopping back onto the bed.
"This sucks." Dream says somewhat raspily.
"It's your own fault, staying out in the snow so long." George laughed and got up to grab the empty plate.
"I was spending time with you~" Dream said drowsily, before grabbing Georges waist and dragging him into the bed.
"Hey- no- I don't want to get sick Dream!" George protested, but Dream laid his head on George's shoulder and it was all over.
"You're soft." Dream said, shutting his eyes.
George attempted to convince himself that the reason he stood laid there was the fact that Dream's forehead was hotter than before. This must mean he was delirious, so who was he to deny him this?
George managed to free one arm and throughout the next few hours alternated through scrolling and watching random videos.
Occasionally George would simply lay there as well, taking in the heaviness of Dream's head, the pattern in his breathing and how he smelled slightly like lavender.
Eventually Dream rolled over, presumably after becoming too hot, and George was freed. By this time it had become almost 3, and despite the comfort of the bed falling to him, he got up and went downstairs.
He attempted to fix his hair and much as he could, wanting to look presentable in case someone dropped by.
The next two hours he went through tv shows, not quite paying attention.
Instead he was thinking about Dream.
And thinking about why he was thinking about Dream.
When he noticed it was five, he decided he might as well start dinner. Personally whenever George was sick he liked a comfort food, and he had noticed over their time together that Dream seem to really like mac and cheese.
In fact, when opening the cabinet, there was almost an entire shelf dedicated to it. It was quite odd, but so was the green man in so many other ways.
George still loved him though.
He shook his head to clear the thought quickly, putting salt into the now boiling water. He then added the pasta, which he suddenly jerked back when a messily folded piece of paper nearly fell in the water.
He quickly get grabbed it mid-air, singing his fingers on the boiling water. Deciding to wait until the rest of the pasta was in, he checked the box for more paper, (to which there were none) and poured it in.
Once this was complete and a timer was set, he inspected the note carefully.
It was a simple piece of notebook paper, folded without care for edges. There was a smudge in one corner, but nothing noticeable other than that.
Hook opening the note there was the messy handwriting of Dream there.
It was random scribbles of thoughts, hardly comprehendible.
George sighed, deciding to decipher it more later as the timer rung out.
He dumped the pasta into a strainer, and proceeded to prepare a bowl of it.
As he headed back upstairs, two bowls in hand (it suddenly remembered he needed to eat as well, and moved the pasta into two bowls instead of just one), the note was still in his mind.
Dream had sat up in the bed and was rubbing his eyes when George re-entered the room.
When Dream lifted his arms to stretch his shirt rode up a little, and George quickly snuffed a flame inside him out.
He placed the bowl down.
"Figured you'd want a comfort food." George shrugged.
"How did you know?" Dream asked. George paused for a moment, how would he admit that he knew because he was fascinated with every little thing he did?
"Uh- I saw the like ten thousand boxes of mac and cheese you have and figured you liked it." George said quickly. Dream squinted his eyes at him, but picked up the bowl and devoured the food anyways.
George ate his food a bit slower.
"How are you feeling?" George asked.
Dream shrugged.
"That's not good enough of an answer, Dream." George sounded awfully like a mom.
"My head still hurts but I feel like I can actually move."
George thought about mentioning the note, but decided against it. Dream probably meant to throw it out anyways.
"Well I'll bring the dishes downstairs." George grabbed Dream's empty bowl and exited the room.
Once reaching the kitchen, he set down one of the bowls and looked closer at the note.
The clearest thing, gone over with the pen multiple times and in big letters on the front read:
r ogvy ele, oeoigu
George had no idea what it meant, so he folded the paper back up, picked up the other bowl and was going it put it in the sink when it clicked.
The bowl clattered to the floor.
A/N
Hey- this one took awhile again- IM SORRY BUT I DONT KNOW HOW PEOPLE CARE FOR SICK PEOPLE.
I don't know if a pasta timer is just a me thing? But that doesn't matter that much. Can you guys decipher what the message said, i tried to make it as difficult as i could.
I THOUGHT I PUBLISHED THIS ALREADY IM SORRY
Word Count: 1364