Soft Spot (Dream X Georgenotfound)

Dirty

Dream shot up right in his bed, panting heavily. There was a bright light flooding through his window, pools of warmth surrounding him. He reached a shaky hand up to his forehead feeling it soaked with sweat. His whole body in fact was soaked in sweat. Dark stained clothes sticking tightly to his skin. A blank stare was plastered across his face, staring at his wall for what felt like hours. His brain which had been a blurred, fuzzy haze until now, cleared. He could feel the after effects of his dream in his boxers and an ever growing guilt in his mind. Oh my god.

George.

The memory of his dream came flooding back to him in a rush. His head pounding. The clenched hand on the sheets. The bare skin rubbing together. The moans escaping both their mouths.
Fuck.

He swung his legs out of bed taking deep breaths to try and contain his 'excitement'. Steadily placing his bare feet down on the soft carpet below he got up and trudged to the bathroom, desperate to deal with the issue in his underwear but refraining due to the disgusting reason behind it. He hated it. How did this happen. He had a sex dream. About a guy? About George?
He turned the shower on, setting the temperature to cold in hopes to wash away his disgust.

He sat his phone on the counter and stepped inside letting the cold water hit his back sending chills down his spine. He began to scrub himself roughly, he felt so... dirty. The issue he was facing began to ease as he let the stream of water consume him and the lather of soap on his body wash away his thoughts. He could see his phone light up on the counter. If it had been other day, he wouldn't have checked it, but any distraction he would grab instantly. His cold hand clamped around the metal handle of the shower turning the water off with a squeak. He stepped out of the shower dripping wet, his dirty blonde hair swinging in front of his eyes. He stared at himself in the mirror, his emerald green eyes stained with shame and the freckles on his cheeks hidden by a warm blush despite his cold shower. Wrapping a black towel tightly around his waist and drying his hands, he hesitated, debating wether or not to check his phone.

Text Message
Georgie: Hey u up?
I'm gonna record later
if u wanna come on
Saps gonna be there too.

The last line eased his mind. The thought of Sapnap as a buffer for him to use so to stop his emotions running wild seemed godlike. Quickly typing out a reply so not to let his mind stay on the subject of George for a while, Dream pressed send and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Dreammm: Yeah sure I'm down

He still felt dirty, but perhaps it wasn't the sweat he had been sleeping in all night, or even the state he had woken up with, maybe it was simply the fact that deep down, despite the large feeling of guilt in his stomach from almost 'taking advantage' of his best friend in his subconscious, but deep down, he liked it. He liked the image of George's soft lips on his as he ran his fingers gently through Dreams blonde hair. How much he longed to hold George's pale face in his hands as they curled up together on the couch on a colder evening. He stopped himself. Feeling sick. He couldn't allow those thoughts, he'd spent years of pushing them away. Jumping to the action of making breakfast indulging his full attention to the activity in a desperate act to keep his mind from wandering.

He cracked an egg over a pan hovering it over the hot flame of his stove before turning to put bread in the toaster and cut up some fresh veg. A healthy breakfast, a healthy mind he decided.
His phone pinged again as he buttered the toast and placed the eggs on the side of his plate. Sitting down on his couch kicking his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. This time it was Sapnap who interrupted his thoughts, don't be fooled though, he was grateful for it.

Sappy: Hey dude
             U heading on?
             Think we're recording for George in
like                 
              20 mins

An exasperated sigh escaped from his lips. A sudden lapse of annoyance towards his friend waved over him for no apparent reason. He slammed his plate on the table a lot harder than intended sending vibrations up his arm before moodily trudging toward his room to throw on some clothes and boot up his pc.

The blue light shone on his pale face as the machine he kept his life on awakened. The whirring sounds from the fans stirred and a green light shone from his mic and headphones.

Quickly joining the discord, he waited nervously for someone else to join. Why was he so nervous. He'd been on calls thousands of times, what made this time any different?