George didn't fall asleep though. Maybe it was because Clay was in the room. Maybe it was because he still had things to say to him.

He couldn't see through the skylight from where he was at the foot of the bed, but he could tell by the light that the stars hadn't been covered by clouds, yet.

He heard Clay shuffle around in his sleep and George wondered what he was dreaming about.

Probably something about soccer.

Then Clay started moaning.

George lifted himself and peeked over the bed.

Clay was tossing and turning. He was definitely asleep, though.

"Clay?" George wondered if he should wake him up.

He decided not to and without thinking, climbed into bed beside him, bringing his blanket.

As he lay down next to Clay, the first thing George realized was that he was cold. Really cold.

That's probably why he's not sleeping well.

He reached out his hand, hesitated- and then rubbed his friend's shivering arm, trying to use friction to warm him up a little bit. He noticed then that Clay's blanket was very thin; his own wasn't very good either. He pulled it over the sleeping boy. Clay didn't wake up, but turned back towards George and muttered something.

George couldn't help but notice how close their faces were.

And how pretty Dream looked when he was sleeping.

George shook his head and tried to get rid of the thought, but it took over his mind.

Look at how softly he's breathing. I'm glad he's calmed down. His hair's curling around his face in a really cute way. He looks peaceful; his face is so smooth and he has big lashes. I like his freckles. His forest eyes are so piercing when they're open, but when they're closed- he looks... relaxed.

George admired the starlight on Dream's face.

Then he had a thought-

You should go back on the floor.

But he was comfy now, plus it was much warmer and cozier in the bed with Clay.

Deciding to stay, George shifted a little in the bed to get perfectly comfortable. A second later Dream's arm settled over him.

George blinked. Their faces were inches from each other now.

He's asleep. He isn't doing this consciously.

George closed his eyes and thought drowsily, it feels right to be next to him. Maybe he'll feel the same.

————

George was slowly waking up but he didn't want to. There was a light tapping on the side of his brain, but he ignored it. He nuzzled closer to the warm figure next to him and tried to fall back asleep, but the morning's amnesia started to wear off.

I'm so cozy: want sleeeeep. I could stay here forever.

This pillow's so warm, wait...

This isn't a pillow.

George's eyes flashed open. Yep, he was still in the bed with Clay, but now Clay's body was even closer to his and they were basically cuddling.

Oh my gosh, how did this happen?

I'm basically trapped here now; he'll wake up if I move around.

What's he going to think when he sees me here, though?

Clay was snoring lightly. They were snuggled together like puzzle pieces.

George decided to just enjoy it while it lasted. It felt immensely safe, hiding under the blankets with Dream during the sleepy morning. He could almost fall back asleep, but the tapping noise had started again. It was coming from above him.

George shifted a little bit to peek through the skylight and his movement caused Clay to stir.

George tensed for a second, but Clay settled down again and just pulled George closer to him.

George wasn't altogether against this action; he just glared up through the skylight at the bird.

Did you wake me up on purpose?

The bluejay was looking down at him with what can be described as an amused expression. Smug wanker.

Then again, George was basically looking at him from under Clay's arm.

He ignored the bird for the time being and let his eyes drift around Clay's room.

It was charmingly messy, Clay was not very interested in tidying. It looked like he had made an effort to pick things up, based on the things hastily stuffed away and piled on the white shelves. The walls were a soft pastel green and the only view of the outside was the skylight above him, lighting up the room with a soft morning glow. The shelves held a couple books, some soccer trophies, a small wood carving of a wolf, a conch shell, and last year's birthday present: a framed photo of them as kids, smiling widely and pointing down at the fish from a tall bridge. There was a shapeless blob plushie settled on the desk; George smiled at it, remembering toddler Clay dragging it around. Its derpy little smiley face grinned back.

The bird -George wondered idly if he should name it- tapped again.

He made a face at it. "What do you want?"

Clay stopped snoring.

Shitshitshitshitshiiiiiiiiit. I'm such an idiot. Actual dumbass, I can't believe I just spoke aloud next to a sleeping person who I DON'T WANT TO WAKE UP.

George did his best to casually slide off the bed, but Clay's husky voice stopped him.

"Huh George?"

Clay rubbed his eyes and looked at him. George was frozen halfway out of the bed, staring at him.

"What are you doing?"

"No- nothing."

"Okay." Clay winked at him. "You know if you wanted to sleep with me, you could have just asked."

George looked away and stood up. "Yeah, right. You were shivering so I tried to warm you up." He yanked his blanket off the bed. "Next time I won't though."

"Yeah sure you won't. You always bite your lip and look away when you lie."

He continued, "It's such a sexy tell, Georgie." He patted the mattress suggestively. "You can come back to bed if you want."

"Yeah lemme just go throw myself off the roof first."

"You aren't tall enough to get out." Clay laughed.

George feigned anger. "Ok I'm leaving if you keep this up."

"You want help reaching the doorknob?" Clay was wheezing now.

George resented the short jokes, but it was hard not to laugh when Clay turned into a teakettle.

George treasured their friendship.

(1k words)