Chapter Text
Dream wants to scream in frustration. His office is soundproofed, it’s not like there’s anything keeping him from doing it. He could scream.
He really could.
But, no. Patches is asleep on the bed behind him and he doesn’t want to disturb her. He’ll just—close the program down and go check on the hardware, he supposes.
It’s so annoying to get so far in this project, to really put people in Minecraft, and then have one computer break and the rig start messing up and the fans start discussing some bullshit that’s not even important, and he’s—he’s just at the end of his rope.
One video down, more to go, but he can’t work with faulty equipment, and he can’t figure out what’s wrong with the computer, and he can’t—
“Dream!” He hears Sapnap’s voice coming from the hallway outside his door. Apparently the soundproofing isn’t that good, after all. Moments later, the door is thrown open and Sapnap’s coming in hot.
Not good.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, throwing his headphones onto the desk. There’s a sense of urgency in every line of Sapnap’s body and it’s putting the hairs on the back of Dream’s neck up on their ends.
“It’s George,” Sapnap says between pants like he just ran here.
“What about him? Did he drop again? What’s wrong?” Dream asks before Sapnap can even get it out. He stands, already starting towards the door. He has to see George for himself. Every atom in his body that makes him an alpha has to see about his omeg—about George.
He can hear Sapnap following him, panting even harder. “No, wait, Dream!”
But that doesn’t stop him. He lunges out of the room, adrenaline pumping, blind to everything else. Outside the door, the best smell he’s ever smelled in his entire life wafts over to him.
It’s better than his mother’s kitchen on Thanksgiving. It’s better than anything—it’s ambrosia laced with George’s inherent marshmallow scent and mixed with a liberal pour of yes, come here to me and need you, alpha, and helpneedmatesex—the world’s strongest aphrodisiac and Dream is caught up tightly in its web.
He’s always found George’s scent incredible, but this is just— another level.
His feet start towards the stairs where he knows the nest is. He’ll find the omega there, waiting for him, open and ready and wet for him, and—
An arm yanks on his t-shirt, almost ripping it with the strength behind it. Without thinking, he slams his elbow backwards, fighting off the intruder trying to keep him from his prize.
“—man, what’s wrong with you?” Sapnap is yelling. Another arm comes out and now the beta is grappling with him. Dream could easily overpower Sapnap. They both know this. They play wrestled enough when Sapnap first moved in, until it wasn’t fun when he lost every single time.
Dream’s brain turns over inside his head—his human brain wades through molasses to come to the surface. There must be a reason Sapnap would act like this. Why would— “What are you doing? Get off me,” he says.
“Stop moving, idiot,” Sapnap says.
Dream throws him off, but the ploy worked. He doesn’t move. He takes a breath through his mouth. That doesn’t help much in regards to the smell, but it’s better than nothing. He pinches his nose closed. It’s like throwing a bottle of water onto a housefire, but whatever.
He’s doing the best he can over here.
“He’s in heat,” Sapnap says, unnecessarily.
“Yeah, no shit,” Dream says and taps his nose. He looks longingly at the stairs, desperate to climb them, to stand at the door and let George invite him into the nest, to curl around him until their bodies become one body.
“No, I mean—You can’t—you gotta chill, man.” Sapnap walks around slowly, putting himself between Dream and the stairs. He thinks he’s slick, but Dream knows what he’s doing. “You can’t just—I didn’t come tell you so that you would—” Sapnap gestures at Dream from head to toe. “—Do this.”
“What did you think was going to happen, then?” Dream asks harshly.
“I didn’t mean to, like—” Sapnap makes his hand into a fist and takes a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just needed to tell you to get out for the—”
“To get out?” Dream repeats, incredulous. His hackles are up and he’s on the back foot and he almost never feels like this with Sapnap and it’s making him feel vulnerable and he’s keenly aware that George is in heat just a few rooms away and he needs to protect him, he needs to help him, he needs to—
“Dream!” Sapnap says and snaps in front of Dream’s eyes, which he hates. The sound frightens him out of his spiraling thoughts and he wants to reach over and bite Sapnap’s fingers clean off, but he can’t. He knows he can’t. That’s wrong. “You gotta get out, man. I can’t put it more clearly than that.”
“Nick?” Dream doesn’t understand. He needs to help the omega. He doesn’t understand why Sapnap won’t let him go help the poor creature. He can hear the omega’s cries from here, pitched low enough that only his special hearing can pick it up.
“Bro,” Sapnap says, pushing Dream bodily towards the staircase. “You know you can’t be here. He’s in heat. You can’t stay.”
“I have to help him,” Dream protests, feet stumbling along the carpet as Sapnap continues to push him farther from the omega who’s calling out for him.
“You can’t help him,” Sapnap says. Dream starts to say that, actually, he’s the only one in this situation who can help him. He’s the alpha here. He’s got the knot that will help the omega, that will ease the pain of the heat, that will lock him up, and—
“Okay, you can’t help him because I say you can’t help him,” Sapnap says and fuck, that’s the wrong thing to say to the alpha barely holding onto control of himself.
“I’m an alpha,” Dream says, all growl and teeth.
“Yeah, and he hasn’t given you permission to help him through a heat,” Sapnap says like this is the fourth or fifth time he’s said this. Maybe he has. Dream isn’t sure he’s hearing everything Sapnap’s been saying. “You’re not that guy, Dream.”
He wants so badly to keep arguing, but his heart is screaming louder than his hormones. Sapnap is right. He is. Dream can’t do that to George, he would never forgive himself.
An insidious thought curls up like a poisonous vine. George doesn’t like how Dream smells. He can’t really smell anyone per his own admission, but he seems to really dislike Dream’s scent.
That thought sobers him. Even if he made it up to the nest, he wouldn’t be wanted. Rejection hollows his bones, the old wounds coming up again ripping open until they’re fresh again. Worse, they’re infected and gangrenous.
The truth is this: George has never wanted him. He wouldn’t want him now. He wouldn’t accept Dream’s alpha coming to help.
The best thing he can do is just leave.
“Go drive to your parents’ house,” Sapnap says, now speaking in a calm manner that he should have started this whole situation with. “I’ll stay here and take care of him.”
Now that makes his hackles rise again. Even if Dream can’t be the one to take care of George, that doesn’t mean he can stand to hear that someone else will. He says, “You’re going to—”
“Not—not like that,” Sapnap says, making a disgusted face that Dream can’t understand. “Not like—I’ll just make sure he’s eating and shit.”
“He needs more than that,” Dream says, though he’s allowing himself to be shuffled towards the garage door now.
“Well, yeah, but that’s all he’s getting from me, man,” Sapnap says. “Omegas go through their first heats alone, that’s, like, known. He’ll be fine.”
“He’s not like other omegas, though,” Dream says and while he believes that down to his core, for many reasons because George is extraordinary and beautiful and smells the best that Dream has ever encountered and so many other things, but also the fact that he’s twenty-seven and this is his first heat. Ten years late. That’s not normal.
“I’ll call his doctor the moment you leave, bro,” Sapnap says and while it makes Dream feel that he’s just saying shit to placate the alpha in him, it does help some. Dream knows, logically, that Sapnap has been the one taking George to the Omega Center for his appointments, that he’s been in the room with George and the doctor because he can do that as a beta.
He’s overheard enough from George and Sapnap to know that whatever medical thing George doesn’t want to talk to Dream about, Sapnap knows. That’s been the only thing keeping Dream sane, that Sapnap won’t let George do anything that would endanger his health. Not really. He has a line he won’t cross.
“Call them now,” Dream says, because though he knows Sapnap has been handling it, he still wants to make sure it happens as soon as possible.
“I can’t concentrate on you and the doctor and George, Dream,” Sapnap says, not unkindly. “No offense, but you’re the easiest to resolve right now. So, please, man, just go to your parents’ house and let me concentrate on shit, okay?”
Oh. Yeah, okay, well when he puts it that way, that makes sense. Dream doesn’t want to stay here actively making things harder, even though every cell in his body is focused on those small sounds coming from the omega’s den.
He could never—it wouldn’t happen. George isn’t interested in him as an alpha, just a friend. But that doesn’t stop Dream’s alpha from wanting to be close, just in case.
It takes everything in him to acquiesce.
“Okay, okay, I hear you,” Dream says and hangs his head. Sapnap hands him his keys and pushes him out the door.
“Okay, see you later, man,” Sapnap says and shuts the garage door in his face.
Dream looks at the closed door and finally the scent of the omega is starting to fade from his fuzzy brain. He feels the bite of the keys in his hand and the coolness of the concrete beneath his toes, and—
“But I don’t even have shoes…” he says to no one.
Sapnap doesn’t trust him, it turns out. When Dream arrives at his childhood home, his mother is waiting at the front door with a worried look on her face.
“Nick called,” she says in greeting and then looks him up and down like she’s checking for signs of—what Dream doesn’t want to think about. He calmed down enough in the car to not embarrass himself, thank the Minecraft gods.
“Great,” Dream says back, flat and unlike himself.
He shuffles barefoot up to his room and throws himself head first onto the bed that he imagines still smells like George from all those months ago when he stayed here over Christmas.
He might go insane.
He might.
Who could blame him?
There have been a few periods of Dream’s life where he felt like time was slowing down around him. Most recently, it was the months of waiting for George’s visa to go through. Before that, though, there was the time waiting for his channel to pop off and the hazy few weeks where he wasn’t in school but waiting for the online programs to start.
All those times have nothing on the week of George’s heat.
The hours pass slower than slow. No show or movie can hold his attention. He can’t call anyone because the only person he wants to talk to is George and he’s out of his mind. Sapnap is too busy taking care of George to have much time to idly chat. Dream counts himself lucky to even get an update every few hours.
He tries to help his mom in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables and stirring sauces that don’t need to be stirred. He finally catches on the second day that they’re cooking way more food than necessary as she stuffs whole meals into the freezer.
He ignores the knowing looks she sends his way, that his alpha can be appeased by preparing food when he can’t be there to help his omega. Not his omega. He’s not. George is not his omega.
But in Dream’s heart, he feels like he is.
That’s wrong, though. He can’t—he knows the difference. He does. He’s not the type of masculine knot-head to say an omega belongs to him, even without the mating bite, and he’d fall onto his own sword before forcing that bite onto George—onto anyone.
He doesn’t own George. George isn’t even interested in him other than as a friend—a best friend. He knows George cares for their friendship and—and that’s enough. He doesn’t need George to want him as an alpha. He doesn’t need George to want him to bite him.
But that stupid part of his heart or soul or wherever such bonds are really formed—the scientific community hasn’t reached a consensus—that part of him feels like it belongs to George, whether George wants it or not.
So, yeah, he makes the stupid food and he lets his mother put it in the freezer and he lets her make her promises that he can take all this home to help George in his recovery, but he’s not stupid and he knows what is happening. Intellectually, he knows.
Sleep doesn’t come easy. Not that it ever has, but he finds his brain whirling too much to settle down enough for sleep until he’s fully exhausted himself being awake for forty-eight hours.
He watches some show with his little sister who won’t stop making pity eyes at him, even when he throws a pillow at her. He volunteers to help his dad in the back shed putting some shelves together—until his tired brain starts seeing double and he almost takes off his thumb with a hammer. His dad politely kicks him out after that.
He listens to his brother ramble on about—something or other. He seems to nod at all the right times and grunt when there’s a space to be filled.
Against all odds, time does pass.
“He’s fine,” Sapnap says on the fifth day of George’s heat, the day after it should have ended. “The doctor says this is pretty normal for someone like him, so. He’s fine. It’s just taking longer than usual.”
“Is he really okay?” Dream asks, trying to appeal to Sapnap that he can handle the truth. Dream just needs to know. He can’t stand sitting here in the unknown by himself.
“Yeah, Dream,” Sapnap tells him, sincerity bleeding out of him. “He’s, like, very out of it. I’ve never seen him like this, bro, but he’s—he’s fine.”
“Has he—” Dream doesn’t know how to verbalize the question he has, doesn’t know how to broach the topic in a way that isn’t immediately obvious that he’s head over heels in love with their best friend. He settles on, “how is his nest?”
Sapnap snorts. “I can’t tell you anything about his nest, bro. You know that. That’s against bro code.”
“But I’m a bro,” Dream says and then questions his sanity.
“Yeah, but you’re an alpha bro so you don’t get to know without his permission.”
“He used to—” Dream snaps his mouth closed, unsure if he’s supposed to reveal this to Sapnap. It always felt private, like it was just between them. But now, fuck, if Sapnap gets to see his nest in real time, then he’s not exactly being left out now. “He used to send me snapchats of his nest. Back when he lived in London.”
“Really?” Sapnap’s voice comes out high pitched and full of shock. “I didn’t—he never told me that.”
“It wasn’t often,” Dream says, almost defensively.
“Shit, bro, I didn’t even know he was an omega until I visited.”
“Did you get to see it then?” Dream wonders. He always has, actually. They never really talked about that part of Sapnap’s visit.
“Yeah, I did,” he says. “I left a hoodie there for him.”
“Good,” Dream says, unable to muster any jealousy because Sapnap is part of the pack. Not that they’re a pack, packs aren’t really—they’re not the thing anymore. This isn’t hundreds of thousands of years ago anymore. They’re civilized.
“And he—I gave him the clothes you gave me,” Sapnap says slowly, like he’s unsure. “He took them. I never saw them again.”
Something archaic settles inside Dream.
George may not care for his scent, but he kept it.
Even after the entire week Dream has to wait out alone, George and Sapnap need another day to get George to the Omega Center to get checked out with his doctor. While they’re gone, Dream hires a cleaning service to go through the house and neutralize most of the heat scent.
It hurts his soul to do it, but he can’t think with the best smelling omega he’s ever encountered having gone into heat in their shared house. He advises the cleaners not to go into George’s room, that’s a step too far. Sapnap will have to help clean that room later.
He gets the all clear from the maid service and double checks with Sapnap that it’s okay to head back while they’re still at the appointment on the other side of the city. When Sapnap says it’s okay, a burst of joy runs through Dream. He gets to go home.
His mom packs the back of the Tesla with all the frozen meals they’ve made over the last seven days, and then after the world’s briefest hugs for everyone currently at the house, he dips.
Music up, window down, he drives back home with his hair blowing in the wind, excited to return but still apprehensive about what happened with George.
He thinks about the situation with more clarity in his own space. His office has been tidied and the refrigerator filled with his glass waters. He didn’t realize what a mess he made of his office while he was determined to get to George. Apparently, he threw Sapnap backwards and into his desk, making all the odds and ends atop it go flying. The monitor fell backwards, too, though luckily it didn’t break.
Taking one of the fresh waters out of the mini-fridge, he sits in his office chair and goes over everything he knows.
George went into a heat. George has never been in heat before, despite being an omega. George has been having dangerous omega drops every few months since he moved here. Dream hasn’t gotten a straight answer out of Sapnap or George, but somehow he thinks those are new, too.
It isn’t really his business—it’s not—but he needs to know what’s going on with George. For thirty minutes, Dream drinks his water and tries to think of a way to approach the situation so that he’s coming into it as a friend—a best friend who cares about his business partner and roommate—and not as an alpha.
Every line of inquiry falls very flat. He should have asked his mom for her advice, but he doesn’t want another round of pitying from her. He wants to talk to Bad about this, but he can’t give up George’s secrets, and he has no idea if Bad knows George is an omega.
To most other people, George smells blank, just enough scent for people to assume he’s a beta. Not Dream, of course, he gets the full frontal pheromone blast to his face every time he’s in George’s vicinity. But other people don’t get that.
He’s never seen any evidence that people have caught on—all the fans seem to think he’s a beta. In fact, a lot of the online shipping calmed down when they met in person and everyone found out Dream is an alpha. At TwitchCon, the one they went to almost immediately after George moved to Orlando, the fans that met him confirmed he’s an alpha, yet none of them mentioned George is an omega.
And they love to talk about creators who are omegas. Dream had to mute a lot of terms online so that he wouldn’t see the hellacious things people say about omegas.
George has never had a heat.
And now he has.
Dream needs to know if he’s okay. If he’s safe. If he’s—there are horror stories about omegas whose hormones get out of whack. Everyone has a great aunt or a friend’s cousin who knows an omega that had a drop and was never the same. Depression, fatigue, lack of will to live—horrible things happen to them.
Dream doesn’t want George to be one of them.
When Sapnap and George finally pull into the driveway, Dream still hasn’t come up with a satisfactory plan of attack. He’ll probably just put his foot in his mouth and trust that George knows him well enough to know he doesn’t mean offense.
He finds them in the kitchen, George sitting at the breakfast bar while Sapnap rummages through the fridge.
“There are some frozen meals to heat up if you guys want them,” Dream says in greeting, eyeing George cautiously to see if he can detect any hints of what’s going on—definitely not to see how he reacts to knowing Dream provided food to the household. Not that.
“Oh, sick,” Sapnap says, like Dream meant that solely for him. “I’m fucking starving, bro.”
The fridge door shuts and Dream hears the freezer open, all while he hasn’t taken his gaze off of George. There are dark circles under his eyes and his hair is a mess, though clean. Dream can’t see what kind of shorts he’s wearing, but that shirt looks like an old one of Dream’s.
The stupid alpha inside of him preens.
“Do you want anything to eat, George?” Dream asks when Sapnap doesn’t. The need to feed and take care of George has subsided a bit in its intensity, but has never gone away in their friendship and isn’t about to stop now.
George looks up at him to answer, and something strange passes over his face. Dream doesn’t like that he doesn’t know what it means. He wants to pin George to a board like those butterflies and study him—but without, like, hurting him.
“Yeah, I could eat,” George agrees.
Sapnap snorts loud enough for Dream to hear it, even with his head buried in the freezer sifting through bags to find something he wants to eat.
“What?” Dream asks Sapnap who finally picks one and snaps the door closed again.
“Nothing,” Sapnap says, “Don’t worry about it.”
“George, what do you want to eat?” Dream asks, letting Sapnap’s weird moment pass to focus on the things that matter, which is primarily taking care of George.
“What did you make?” he asks, eyes drifting over to the freezer in question.
“A couple casseroles, a masaman curry that will need time to, like, dethaw before we can eat it.” He really should have made his mom write down what all they made because even though he was a key part of the process, entire days without George were a blur and he doesn’t remember half of them. “Burger patties that just need to be heated, some pizza rolls we can throw in the airfryer. Or, if you’re hungry for something particular, we can DoorDash it, or I can—fuck, I can just run and get it.”
George’s smile is small but with genuine happiness. “Burgers sound good.”
“Burgers it is,” Dream says.
“So,” Dream starts when his alpha is satisfied that George has eaten enough. “What did the doctor say?” He grabs George’s cleaned plate and rinses it off in the sink.
“It was a heat,” George says all nonchalantly. “Obviously.”
Dream snorts and bites back the first thing he wants to say. “Yes, and you’ve never had one before. Are you—are you alright? Are they going to be more regular now? This one went on way longer than it should have. What did the doctor say about that?”
George’s face gives nothing away. He keeps his eyes locked on the counter space in front of him. Dream castigates himself for already ruining it. He didn’t mean to spit out so many questions so quickly. He just had this mental pep talk and now he blew it at the first opportunity.
It’s Sapnap who breaks through the downward spiral of Dream’s thoughts to say, “Tell him, George.”
Dream holds his breath until his chest aches with it. George doesn’t speak.
“Tell him, idiot,” Sapnap says this time with exasperated authority in his voice.
And when George still doesn’t speak, Dream lets out a nervous laugh and says, “You guys are freaking me out. What’s going on? Is this about what’s been going on with you, George?”
“Dream, calm down,” Sapnap urges, bringing up a hand to rest on Dream’s arm to keep him from walking closer to George. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. “Let him speak.”
George swallows thickly, and says, “The doctor said…”
Despite being desperate to know more, Dream forces himself to take a deep breath and stay calm. After a moment without George continuing, he says as encouragingly as he can, “Yeah?”
George mirrors the deep breath. “The doctor said I have to… “ He trails off again and looks pleadingly over at Sapnap for help. Dream fights back his distaste for that and reminds his stupid alpha that Sapnap has been there for George and is only trying to help.
“He needs a heat partner or his hormones will be permanently fucked,” Sapnap says, coming to George’s rescue.
It takes a good ten seconds for the words to process in his brain correctly. Needs a heat partner…
Dream directs his response to George, “Is that true?”
“Yeah.” He hasn’t looked at Dream this entire conversation and it’s starting to irritate Dream.
The irritation turns violently into frustration as Dream picks this apart in his brain. George needs an alpha for his next heat, so now Dream has to allow an unknown alpha into his territory to take care of his omeg—to take care of George, who is not anyone’s omega.
He shouldn’t be this upset that George doesn’t want him—he’s had two years to get used to the idea that George’s omega dislikes Dream’s alpha. So it shouldn’t be killing him inside that he can’t be there to help him, that he can’t guide him through the heat, to take care of him. The sexual parts are not as important, though he imagines he would come out of George’s heat as a different man entirely for that reason alone.
He just wants George to be okay. He wants him to be healthy and not have this thing hanging over his head, making it difficult to leave the house in case he drops again, or Dream supposes, now they have random heats to worry about.
If he can share one heat with an alpha and be cured of that, then Dream can’t let his own emotions get in the way. He’s always said George’s health is more important than anything else. He still firmly believes that. So, it’s going to be the worst thing that’s ever happened to him—and he’s been through a lot of fucked up stuff—but for George, he can deal with it.
There’s been an awkward pause while he’s been thinking. Two sets of eyes stare over at him like they’re waiting for him to respond. He says, “Well, what are you going to do? Do you—” He clears his throat painfully, “do you need help finding someone? How much time do we have?”
“It’s—we have a week or so. It’s not, like, set in stone.”
“A week?” Dream feels his eyes bug out. “You’re going to have another heat that fast? Is that safe?” He glances over at Sapnap to confirm those details and his friend’s stony face is all the answer he needs.
“They said it’s not set in stone,” George repeats, almost like he’s deliberately missing the point. Heats are supposed to come every three months, not every two weeks. That’s—that’s definitely not healthy.
Dream rubs his cheek with his palm. This doesn’t feel like real life. He dives deep to find something that a version of himself who is not extremely compromised by George to say, “Okay, well, I guess the head’s up is nice. I’ll plan to go to my parents’ house before it begins this time.”
“So you don’t destroy your office?” George asks, sounding the most like himself in weeks. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes that Dream both loves and hates to see.
“Shut up,” he says, trying not to show that he’s embarrassed about it. He never wanted George to know how much he affects him. He’s always wanted George to feel comfortable in their house, not like an alpha is going to pounce on him at any moment. He should be able to relax here, to feel the safest he’s ever felt.
George knowing that Dream was so out of his mind at his heat smell doesn’t fit in with that wish.
“No,” George says, amping up the teasing. He must be fine with it if this is the thing he’s choosing to needle Dream over. “Tell me more about how you tried to fight Sapnap over me.”
“Shut up, George,” Dream says. He hates thinking of himself as being so out of control, that had Sapnap not been there, he might have… No, it’s unthinkable. “Seriously.”
“Tell me how you—”
Dream cringes, but it’s Sapnap who comes to his rescue by pointing at George and saying, “Okay, you have no room to talk, chucklefuck.”
Dream doesn’t know what he means and he can’t find the brain power to overanalyze that right now, so he lets it go. Whatever Sapnap meant, it got George to back off and look back down at the counter top.
“You’ll be okay afterward?” Dream asks, needing a bit more clarity. “Like, fixed? No more drops or surprise heats?”
“I—” George starts, only to clam up again. His face pinkens.
“It depends,” Sapnap answers when it’s clear George isn’t going to.
“On what?”
“The doctor wants to run tests, like, the day after,” Sapnap explains. “He’s supposed to have his alpha—the alpha—call for an appointment when it’s winding down so they can squeeze him in.”
“What does—okay.” Dream leans against the counter for support. He really doesn’t like letting another alpha have George’s health in his hands this much. A heat is one thing, and already not something Dream is thrilled about. Yes, he recognizes he has no say in it and that it’s not his business, but he can’t just turn off those feelings.
But for a strange alpha to be in charge of calling for an appointment and then getting George to that appointment—he really doesn’t like that. He doesn’t trust anyone to take care of George the way he needs to be taken care of. Sapnap is barely tolerable and that’s only because he has Dream and George’s complete trust and also because he gives multiple updates to Dream when he needs them.
“It should make it a lot better,” George says, sounding small. “But they didn’t make any, like, guarantees.”
Sapnap makes a sound of protest. “They made one guarantee.”
“No,” George says, clearly knowing what Sapnap is referring to.
Dream hates being left out still. “What?”
“No,” George says again, but he’s looking at Sapnap.
Sapnap crosses his arms over his chest, and says like he’s talking to an unruly toddler, “George.”
“Shut up, bitch,” George says hotly. “I’m not doing that.”
“What?” Dream asks again, looking between the two of them and trying to read anything—between their words and their closed off body language, he gets nowhere with this.
“Drop it,” George practically snarls. Whatever is behind door number two is apparently none of Dream’s fucking business.
“Okay, okay, George,” Dream says and throws both hands up to show he’s not a threat. “No one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, okay?”
Sapnap opens his mouth and gets out an “I—” before Dream cuts him off right there.
“Not even you, Nick. This is stressful enough for all of us, we’re not forcing things. So, everyone calm down and let’s figure it out.”
Neither of his friends say anything to disagree, which pleases his alpha. “George needs an alpha to take care of him in heat and then to the doctors office the next morning.” The words hurt coming out and he’s doing his absolute best to try not to show how much he wants that alpha to be him.
“Yeah,” Sapnap agrees for the both of them.
“And we need someone trustworthy and reliable and who won’t—you know—pressure you into a mating bite or to do anything you don’t want. Do you have anyone in mind?” he forces himself to ask. He looks at the blank face of his best friend, and adds, “Anyone at all, I don’t mind reaching out for you and vetting them. I’ll—I’ll make sure you’re in good hands.”
He would, too. That’s the really sad part. Dream would quadruple check this alpha, make sure a background check is run by his best people. He’d ask for seven references from previous heat partners to confirm they’re reliable. He—he’ll make them sign the world’s most ironclad NDA in existence. Anything to keep George safe.
With his own heart breaking slowly like pieces of a cliff falling steadily into the sea, he makes this promise to George. He will find someone to make him healthy.
He’d rather have a world with a healthy George in it than a world with no George. They’re dancing around the consequences here, but an omega with a permanent drop of pheromones won’t make it long—it’s too stressful on their bodies.
George clears his throat, like finding the words is difficult. He doesn’t look up when he says, “There’s… there’s an app to check…”
Sapnap slaps a bag of frozen soup onto the counter with a thwack. “No, shut up,” he says and runs a hand through his hair the way he’s been training himself out of ever since the transplant surgery. “This is so stupid. You, Dream.” His eyes laser into Dream’s with an intensity he’s never seen before. “It needs to be you.”
A shot of hope flies through him with great velocity. His insides dance around its trajectory.
With a deep breath, he looks over at George. “Are you—” He hates the way his voice breaks. “George?”
George looks broken and small. His shoulders are up around his ears and he looks—he looks lost. Dream hates seeing him like that. Those big boba brown eyes look up and with a quick glare at Sapnap, he locks onto Dream and nods. “Yeah. That. You.”
“You want me to…?” Dream asks, needing confirmation. He feels like he might float away.
“I know it’s not ideal, but…” George’s face turns contrite. He hasn’t looked that way in a long time. He’s the guy who demands stuff, who doesn't ask for permission, who negotiates absurdly until he gets what he wants. To see him look like this, like he’s asking Dream for a huge favor when it’s the thing Dream wants most in the world—Dream feels almost sick.
George continues, when Dream can’t find words. “I know you. I trust you.”
A hand lands on Dream’s shoulder—he had almost forgotten Sapnap was still here. “No one can take better care of him than you, brother.”
Dream nods, letting a lump of emotion roll around in his throat. Bravely, he looks back over at the omega in question. “Are you sure, George?”
George nods, a mimicry of Dream. “You or no one. I know you’ve done it for other omegas. You know what you’re doing. You know what signs to look for. So, um yeah, will you?”
“Yeah,” Dream hears himself say. He never wondered what it would be like to have his greatest desire handed to him in the strangest way possible, but somehow he didn’t imagine he’d respond like this. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts, to focus on putting George and George’s safety and health first. This is, foremost, about those things. He gets to take care of George, to make sure he’s safe and sound. There is no greater gift. “Yeah, I’ll help you. Of course I will.”
Now he just has to figure out how to get himself and George to come out the other side whole and hale.