#dnf fanfi

[i-hope-this-is-a-phase]

Insult to Injury (Complete!)

And So It Goes by Zuesue for @honelle56 (T | Complete | 4k)

#emotional hurt/comfort #miscommunication Not everything can be planned, but adjustments can be made.

Thank you all for your patience! Added an extra thousand words during editing ascdknacsn.

Happy reading!

Fic underneath for those who prefer Tumblr over ao3

When Dream wakes up, it’s a full day later.

He’s not too surprised; he was already going on two days without sleep before the accident, and with the added stress of it plus another day of no sleep, it’s a wonder he didn’t sleep more.

Still, as he gets up to brush his teeth, he wonders if George has needed him and wasn’t able to get him because he was asleep.

It’s a ridiculous thought. George has interrupted his sleep for less. He still worries.

But, when he gets to the kitchen and finds Sapnap, he tells him he hasn’t seen George either.

“Did you wear him out after the celebration sex?” he asks, and Dream laughs loud and bright.

“Yeah, we got a blindfold to spice it up.”

Sapnap nods sagely. “Glad I bought it then along with the other shit you kept sending me.”

There’s a question there. “Yeah,” Dream says. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I noticed.”

“Shut up.” There’s no heat to it, though. “I was just--”

“Worried? Yeah, me too bro.” Sapnap throws away the snack he was eating. “Still. Don’t get too crazy about this, okay?”

“What, you don’t want him to be my favorite?” Dream teases.

“I mean it,” Sapnap says. “He’ll notice if you’re coddling him, and he doesn’t need that right now.”

“Nick, he just got in a UTV accident.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Before Dream can ask, Then what the fuck are you talking about, Sapnap walks off to do god knows what.

Dream stares at Sapnap’s vacant seat for a moment, but then makes his way toward the fridge. Guess it’s up to him to figure it out. For now, though, he’s in search of breakfast.

A bit later, after Dream’s been done with his granola for a long time and is now scrolling on his phone, George makes his way into the kitchen.

Dream rushes to the light switch to flick it off. “You should’ve texted me,” he says in lieu of greeting.

“I have to announce my presence now?”

“No, you don’t have to, no,” he says. “But I can turn off the lights if you give me advance warning.”

“That’s dumb. I’m not doing that.” George beelines for his abandoned granola on the counter. He grabs a handful and shoves it into his mouth, then makes a disgusted face. “Dream, this sucks.”

“Well, no one said you had to eat it.” He grabs the bag form George’s hand and puts it away under the counter.

George sits at the counter. “Make me cereal,” George demands, and although Dream flips him off, he moves to the counter to do just that.

Living with a concussed George isn’t…easy. Their lives revolve around electronics: whether it’s for work, for fun, or just to pass the time, there’s not a lot they do that doesn’t involve bright lights.

Dream had thought George would’ve tried to push through the pain, and Dream would have to do something drastic like turn off the Wi-FI to stop him.

But, George is a good sport. George does the exercises the doctor prescribed. He goes on the stationary bike, staying away from video games. He lets Dream turn off lights for him, lets Dream make him “watch” The Office with the “shit blind people use.” He hasn’t even gone on TikTok, even when Dream has been scrolling through his own feed all day.

“Dream, turn off that stupid video,” George complains after Dream’s rewatched the same video four times.

“It’s informational George.”

“No, it's not, and if I hear that song again, I’m going to a hotel.”

“Fine.” Dream closes the app. He decides he may as well do something productive and opens up his email.

It’s been almost a week since he’s done any work. He hasn’t had any desire to, what with George injured. But, there’s always things he could get ahead on, deals he could take, messages he can send…

“…What are you doing?”

“Needy are we?” Dream teases, as he continues typing away.

“Hiding something are we?”

“I’m not hiding anything.” But he knows that won’t appease George.

Sure enough, George demands an answer: “Tell me then.”

“I was sending an email to Ken.” He lowers the brightness and turns his phone so George can see the Gmail logo. “Happy now?”

It’s quiet for a moment.

“What’s the email about?” George asks.

“Uh, something about an investor. He asked for my input.” Dream returns to typing out a response.

There’s another pause.

George clears his throat.

Dream can hear him shift on the bed.

A moment later, George says: “Can I take a spin in the rig?”

That grabs Dream’s attention. “Huh? No.”

“Why not?”

“George, you’re injured, you’re not supposed to be working for two weeks—“

“We can do what you said: I can help you render something in the rig.”

“The rig has built-in lights, plus we need to have quality images if we want to fix the issue, which we need lights for.”

George throws his hands in the air. “Then let’s do something else then! There has to be something we can do, there’s always something.”

Dream snorts. “What, you’re finally in the mood to work after a year?”

That’s the wrong answer because George’s eyes flash dangerously. “You have something to say, Dream?”

A bolt of anger surges up inside him, but Dream tries to push it down. “I just dom’t know why you want to work right now. You need rest--”

“I’m not allowed to be productive? I’m supposed to sit on my ass and be lazy while you do shit for me?”

“That’s not what I said, and you know it.”

George glares at him. It’s cold.

It’s silent for a moment.

“Whatever,” he finally says. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” He gets up and starts to make his way out of Dream’s room.

Dream doesn’t want that at all. “George wait—“

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” George declares again, and he slams the door behind him.

It’s silent again.

Dream doesn’t even know what he did. George needs rest. That’s not negotiable. He isn’t going to sacrifice his health for a project that can wait.

He tries to take a deep breath in and let it out slowly to try and calm down.

It doens’t work.

He tries again.

Doesn’t work.

“Fuck.” He slams his hand on the armrest. “Damnit.”

He’s not wrong. George needs rest.

George is just being stupid.

He’s just being stubborn.

…right?

It takes him a few minutes, but he finally gets up in search for Sapnap.

“Come in!” Sapnap yells after Dream knocks on the door. He takes one look at Dream’s face when he walks in and says, “You need help talking it out?”

“No.” He shuts the door behind him and makes his way to the couch. “I need to not be going crazy.”

“Well, I have bad news for you.”

“Being serious right now.”

“Right sorry.” Sapnap clicks a few times on his mouse, and whatever program he had up shuts down. He swivels in his chair to face him. “What happened?”

“George wants to start working again. I told him no. He got angry and left.”

Sapnap sighs. “You gotta tell me the whole story man.”

“That is the full story.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yeah it is.”   “No it isn’t. You wouldn’t be here if it was.”

Dream opens his mouth to argue, but sighs, and thinks back to their fight. “…he thought I was calling him lazy.”

Sapnap hums. “Were you?”

“No, of course not. He’s recovering, he needs to get better. He can’t just ask me to let him use electronic shit when that’s going to hurt him.”

“Did he ask to use his electronics?”

“He wanted to work.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Sapnap says. “Did he ask to use his phone?”

“…no.”

“Did he ask to use his computer?”

“No.”

“Did he ask for anything that wasn’t work.”

“No, he just asked to help with the project okay?”

“Very,” Sapnap says. “So, why didn’t you let him work?"

“He asked if he could help with the rig.”

“Which he can’t do because of all the lights and shit,” Sapnap says.

“See? You get it.”

Sapnap nods, but he asks, “But can’t he do something else?” Like help Ken with the patents or help fiddle around with the wires He knows how to work them.”

“He needs to rest, Nick. Not help out iwth my project.”

“You’re still working,” Sapnap points out.

“Well--that’s different.”

“Is it?” Sapnap asks.

“Yeah, I’m not concussed.” Sapnap fiddles with his hoodie strings. “That doesn’t mean he can’t work Clay.”

Dream makes a frustrated noise. “You don’t get it either,” he says. “He doesn’t ened to work, okay?”

“But he wants to,” Sapnap says. “And you’re not letting him.”

“But why does he want to work?”

“How should I know?” Sapnap says. He turns around in his chair and starts opening up whatever program he had opened before. “Well? Go ask him.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He’s mad at me.”

“I don’t care.” Sapnap starts clicking away on his mouse. “Go talk to him.”

Dreamsighs, but he gets up. He makes his way to the door. He pauses. “…thanks.”

“No problem dude.” Sapnap waves his hand. “Go makeup with your boyfriend.”

Dream doesn’t know what to expect when he knocks on George’s door. Maybe yelling. Maybe silence. He doesn’t expect the “Come in” he receives.

He opens the door slowly. George is lying on his bed, curled up and facing away from the door.

Dream fiddles with his hands. “I—uh.” He clears his throat. “I came to talk to you.”

“Could’ve guessed that,” George snarks.

“Well, yeah, okay.” He takes a step closer, but he stops. “Can I, uh, sit down?”

George’s foot twitches. “Sure,” he says after a moment.

Dream settles himself down onto George’s sheets. He realizes that George has gotten out the fluffy blanket he got for him: it’s wrapped around his legs and waist. He usually only brings it out when Dream’s away. It gives him the courage to start this conversation.

“I talked with Sapnap.”

George doesn’t respond, so he presses on: “He said that I might have been, a bit unclear. That maybe…I should ask why you want to work.”

He hears George scoff. “Because it’s not in character for me?”

“No, no of course not.” He lies down next to George. “Just…that you have the opportunity to rest right now. You don’t need to work right now, but you want to. And.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t think it’s just because you’re excited about the project. I know you’re excited, but I don’t think…it’s in character as you would say, to push yourself when you’re hurt when there’s no need. Not like how I am.”

George sighs. "You just…don't understand."

Dream thinks for a moment. He scoots closer. Closer. He brings his arm to George's waist, settling his hand there. Pulls himself closer until he's flush behind him. He leans down to murmur into George's ear.

"Tell me?"

“No.”

Dream breathes out, but he expected that. “Okay.” He shifts closer, wrapping his arm fully around George, and presses his face into George’s hair. “I’d like to stay, though. Can I stay?” he asks.

He feels George breathe out as well. “If you must,” he grumbles, but he places his hand over the one that Dream has against George’s chest. Dream smiles into his hair, and breathes it all in. The quiet. The softness. George, safe against his chest and in his arms. The smell of George’s shampoo, the smell that was still on Dream’s pillow after that one night they fell asleep together for the first time. The tension that’s been inside him slowly drains out, and he relaxes into the bed.

Then, George shifts against his chest.

He clears his throat.

He whispers, softly, into the sheets, but Dream hears it: “I don’t want to disappoint you again.”

Dream blinks. He shifts too, closer to George so he can hold him more securely. “Why would I be disappointed?” he asks.

George shakes his head. “You were disappointed. When it happened.”

Dream doesn’t understand for a moment. When was he upset with George? Besides today, he hasn’t even been angry around George for months—

Oh.

“You thought…you thought I was disappointed in you, back in March.”

“Weren’t you?” Dream sees George clench a handful of the blanket. “You—you didn’t talk to me. You only spoke to me about the apology. Even when you were going through your shit, you told me stuff.”

George continues: “But that week, you didn’t tell me anything. And, at first, I thought it was just because you were stressed, and I got it. But then it was the week after, and the week after that, and you still would only talk about the project.”

Dream feels George take a ragged breath in. He flips his hand over so he’s holding George’s hand now, and says, “Go on.”

“You, you only started talking again when I joined the project. When I started helping. You started watching TV with me again, you played Minecraft with me again. “ George sniffles. “It was after two weeks that you told me you loved again.”

George is full-on crying now, and Dream moves his other hand up so he can pet George’s hair, trying to soothe him as best as he can.

“And even though I like it, like working with you, I just worried if one day, if I needed to stop, if I would stop being your friend because I couldn’t help anymore. So I tried to help you besides the project by making sure you ate and took breaks, and everything.” George laughs, wet and messy. “And to add insult to injury, when I did get hurt, I thought, at least, you’d appreciate the break since I wasn’t helping. But then, you sent that email, and I just—“ George hiccups. “And then you wouldn’t let me work, and I thought that it was done, that I had done something and messed up, that I had lost—lost—“ He’s gasping for breath, and Dream’s had enough. He maneuvers George to face him and pulls him against him.

“George it’s—it’s okay, please don’t cry. I wouldn’t, I’d never leave you.”

“You did though,” George says, miserable.

Dream is about to deny it, but he thinks back.

March had been hard. The high of Sapnap’s birthday followed by the crash of the big controversy had been hard on both Dream and George, especially when friends they had trusted had seemingly disappeared overnight.

Dream had thrown himself into work back then. Had spent those following weeks trying to bury the heartbreak and betrayal through work. Not because of George, never because of George. But, he sees now how George could have gotten that impression.

“That wasn’t…that wasn’t because of you George. Me being sad. That was because of everyone else who decided that we weren’t worth it. If anything—“ He laughs to himself. “—you were the one who never left me, and that got me back.”

George reaches a hand up. He hesitates, but he grabs onto Dream’s arm, the one that is holding him. “But then,” he says. “Why did you start taking breaks after I helped?”

“Because—because I wanted to take care of you,” he realizes suddenly. “You were working so hard, and I knew you were still recovering, so I just started taking breaks and inviting you.”

George snorts quietly, and Dream feels the tension in the air lighten. “Idiot,” he says. “You should take breaks because you need them, not because I just need them.”

“Yeah, well.” Dream fidgets with George’s shirt. “It’s hard.”

George smiles at him, and to Dream, it’s the most beautiful thing in the world right now. “That’s why we take care of each other, right?”

Dream smiles back, but he remembers something Sapnap said: “Hey, uh; next time, you should just tell me. I can’t always tell when you’re feeling bad.”

George scoffs. “Wow, the great Dream admits he doesn’t know everything.”

He acknowledges the effort for light-heartedness, but he presses on: “Seriously, next time, just ask if I’m upset. You know I’m bad with telling when someone’s mad at me, and it should go both ways. Especially with us, okay? We’re a team.”

George smiles at that. The soft one Dream loves. “Yeah, we are,” George agrees. Then: “I’ll try to be better.”

“Me too.” They’re silent for a moment. Dream is running his hand up and down George’s spine, and he feels George squeeze his arm.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He smiles. “You know,” he says. “I would’ve said I love you back if you had told me it.”

George feigns ignorance. “What are you on about?”

“You know.” He leans his head down to whisper into George’s ear. “Using our secret code.”

George blushes bright red, and Dream coos. “Shut up, idiot,” George says, shoving at Dream’s chest as Dream laughs.

The code came about a few months ago. His younger self had used to love demanding a love confession from George. But, his older self had learned that demanding vulnerability from George, even if George meant it, was not what he really wanted.

So, he told George about the Reddit post he saw about the three squeezes.

”It’s like—you do it when you want to say I love you but you don’t want to say it.”

”What, you think I love you?” George had retorted.

”I know you do, and I know that this might help.” George had looked like was going to argue, but Dream had held his hand up. “Just,” he had said. “Think about it.”

For the first month, there had been nothing. But then, right before his debut in Orlando, George had squeezed his hand.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then, it kept happening.

When he had beat the Parkour Warrior record, randomly at dinner, when he dropped The Truth, when he said good night to Dream.

One. Two. Three squeezes.

“Alright, I’ll shut up.,” Dream says, after he stops laughing, and George stops shoving him away. Dream waits a beat. Then: “I love you too.”

Dream burst out laughing again as George shoves him until Dream is on his back, but yelps when George bites him. “Ow!”

“You deserve pain,” George says with a deadpan face, which only makes Dream giggle.

“Yeah, alright.” His head falls back onto the bed, and after a bit, George lays his head back down on Dream’s chest,

They lay quietly together for a while. George seems to be listening to Dream’s heartbeat, as he taps along to the rhythm on Dream’s side. Dream himself is tracing patterns along George’s back, content to be still for once.

But, after a bit, George speaks up: “Can I ask a question again?”

“Sure.”

He continues drawing shapes on George’s back as George thinks. He feels George mouthing something against his chest. He turns to look at Dream.

“…you’ve been acting weird recently.”

Dream keeps rubbing George’s back. “I have?” he inquires.

George nods.

“You’ve been, more touchy. And not just since my injury it’s been—“ George swallows. “Since December.”

Dream turns to look at George. “Do you…do you not like it?”

George moves his hand to play with Dream’s hand, the one he has resting against his own chest. He pulls on one of the ring. “…no.”

“Then,” Dream says. “Why are you asking?”

“I want to know…why you’re doing it.”

“I don’t know.” But the answer feels wrong, somehow. “Well, that’s not true. I mean, uh, after my video, I felt free, y’know? Like I wasn’t—held back like I’ve been since you’ve arrived. And maybe that made me feel like I could do the things…I wanted now?” He stops rambling. “Does that make sense?”

George plays with another ring on Dream’s hand. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it makes sense.” He looks up into Dream’s eyes.

Dream looks down into George’s eyes.

There’s a beat.

Another one.

George looks down.

At something.

No, not just something.

At Dream’s lips.

Something stirs in Dream, compels him to lift his hand to cup George’s cheek. To lean closer.

George leans closer too.

Closer.

Closer.

Their lips are a breath away.

“Is this okay?” George asks.

Dream leans forward and seals their lips together as an answer.

It’s just like how Dream remembers from New Year’s. Soft, but firm. Gentle pressure. A warmth spread from his lips to his body to the tips of his fingers.

He presses closer, drinking in the closeness. The warmth. The love.

Love…

Dream breaks away, and opens his eyes.

George’s eyes flutter open. He looks at Dream for a moment but then smiles. The soft one that Dream likes.

Loves even.

"I think I love you," Dream blurts out.

Shit.

George is going to freak out. George is going to leave the bed. George is going to need space and ruin all the progress they jus got after their fight--

George raises an eyebrow. "You just figured that out?"

"Well--no. You know I love you. You're my best friend. But I think I like. Love you, love you." He should stop talking now. He doesn't. "Like, you're my best friend, and I kiss you, and I love you."

George laughs again, but it's shy. "Okay," he says. "What's the matter then?"

"Um, I shouldn't be?" Dream laughs nervously.

"Well, that's stupid."

"…what!?"

George rolls his eyes. "I'm your best friend, you love me, and you want to kiss me. You're my best friend, I love you, and I want to kiss you. So, there's no problem."

Dream feels like he's missed a large part of this conversation. "What?"

"Like, we can just, do all those things now. It doesn't have to be wrong or bad. And before you start thinking--" he interrupts Dream's train of thought, "--we can discuss 'labels' or whatever after I take a nap."

Dream scoffs. "Only you would want to take a nap after I confess my love for you."

"Yes." George pushes against Dream’s chest. "Now, lay down. You're staying."

Dream complies until he’s lying down again, then curls around him. He wraps both his arms around George. Even though he has two thoughts whirling inside his head, he’s tired from their earlier fight. He presses his face into George’s hair. They will figure it out tomorrow.

They have the rest of their lives to figure it out, apparently.

So, he let's go. “Goodnight George,” he says, and after a moment, he dares to press a kiss to George’s head too.

He hears the smile in George’s voice.

“Goodnight idiot.”i