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George hates prom.
Well, hate is a bit of a strong word. He dislikes prom—more so dislikes school dances in general. And no, it’s not because he’s never been asked to one. He has been, as a matter of fact, he has just politely declined each request.
The reason he dislikes school dances is because they’re overrated.
And, to tie it all together they’re not only a waste of time, but they’re also gross. Honestly, who wants to spend a couple of hours around sweaty, horny teenagers and staff supervision?
Not George.
So, he dislikes prom because prom is a school dance, and school dances are dumb.
Back in England, he was pretty lucky when it came to dances. In primary school, dances were a rare occurrence, and if they did happen, it was barely much of a dance, and more of a get-together between all the classes, with some teachers lurking, expecting the uninterested students to dance.
By the time George got into high school more dance opportunities had occurred, but lucky for him, his closest friends at the time weren’t very fond of the acts either, and so as a group, they would all skip and do something more fun instead.
However, despite his previous luck, when he had moved to America things had changed.
Entering his Junior year fresh out of Europe was an adjustment, to say the least, but the first thing he had to become accustomed to was the insane amount of dances the student council held each year. Not only that, but he also grew familiar with just how important said dances were.
In England, it was more of an option to go or not, and even if it was important and he just hadn’t realized, he at least had friends to skip with. When he first came to America, he didn’t have any friends, and so skipping was a lot more lonely, and when he did get friends—bumping into a very persistent football player, who all but forced him into getting lunch together his first day, where he met two other very persistent boys with equally as wide smiles—he discovered that those friends enjoyed school dances, so skipping with company was rarely an option.
It had been over a year since then, and the group was reaching the end of their senior year, which meant one thing in his friends’ eyes: prom.
The three boys, Sapnap, Karl and Quackity, all knew George wasn’t the biggest fan of school dances, and so they never really forced him into anything. Prom, however, was new territory.
Sapnap had whined when he first told the younger he detested the idea of going, even with a group of friends. He had claimed that George was “missing out on a grand high school experience”, but George was content with staying home that night, sitting at his desk playing mindlessly on Minecraft, or sitting on his bed to play, or even just sleeping
Anything but going to the dance.
“He just doesn’t want to go because Dream isn’t asking him,” Quackity hummed, and George froze where he was sitting, mid-chew. Sapnap burst into laughter, doubling over.
“Oh my god! What? Why didn’t I know about this?”
George frowned.
Dream.
George loved all his classes throughout the day, but his final class before school ended was probably his favourite. If anyone asked, he would say it was because it was just before the end of the day. When Quackity had asked though, he was all but forced to admit it was because he shared the class with Dream.
He met Dream during his third week at the school. He had briefly heard the name through the halls, seeing as he was pretty popular, and he knew Sapnap was pretty close with the blond, but they had never met until one night—the only time Sapnap had gotten George to go to a dance.
It was noisy, and George hated the way his shirt stuck to his back from all the sweat and humidity in the air, so he slipped out the gym doors when his friends weren’t looking and made his way towards the bathroom. However, he bumped into another body before he could get very far, and when he apologized, taking a step back to see who he bumped into, he came face to face with a white-shirt cladded chest. He had pursed his lips, turning his gaze upwards, where he was met with a wide smile.
The blond apologized for what happened, slid past George, and went back into the gym.
It was a very brief interaction, but George was just as hooked as the rest of the students in the school.
Since then, if they ever had any classes together, Dream would give him a small wave, and go about his day, but every time, that one single wave would make the rest of George's day.
It was a little pathetic to admit.
“There's nothing to know,” George dismissed, and Karl smiled sheepishly.
“Come on George,” Karl tried, “It's not so bad. If you like Dream, you know you can tell us, right?”
Sapnap nodded. “I swear I wouldn’t say a word to him,” he pledged, a hand resting over his heart. George shook his head, stabbing another piece of fruit with his plastic fork.
“I don’t like Dream, I just think he’s… neat.”
“I just think he’s neat.”
“Shut up Quackity!”
“Well,” Sapnap started, smiling nervously. “That’s good. I’d have felt really guilty.”
George turned away from a grinning Quackity with a frown. “Why?”
“He and that one girl—I forget her name, the cheerleader-”
“Rachel?”
“Yeah!” Sapnap smiled at Karl, before turning back to George. “I don’t think they’re dating—I haven’t really asked—but he got her number the other day, and they’ve been going out, and- I don’t know… things seem. Real.”
George pursed his lips. Real.
It’s been a few months since then, and though his friends are still eager to get him to go to prom, they’ve mostly given up trying to persuade him. For the most part, he’s forgotten all about the conversation they had.
Aside from the mention of Dreams sort-of girlfriend.
George usually heads to the library after school to finish any extra homework and read before he heads home, and today was no different. It was a normal Tuesday, and he had completely normal plans. Everything was as it usually was.
Except for the man approaching George's table. That was new.
George knows Dream’s a busy guy, knows he has football practice most days, and he probably has a girlfriend to cater to—something he hates thinking about—and so when Dream, for some strange reason, approaches the brunet with a grin and a question, George is stunned, because he asks the last question George had been expecting.
He asks George to go to prom with him.
“Do I-... what?”
Dream pulls out the chair across from the brunet, sitting down slowly with a sheepish smile. “Do you want to go to prom with me?”
George fully prepares to say no for two reasons: first, he doesn’t do dances, no matter what, under no circumstances. Second, why would Dream be seriously asking him when he has a not-so-girlfriend?
(George also prepares to try not to sound hesitant in turning the blond down, even if he is remorseful in planning to decline the offer, because obviously he wants to go to prom with Dream, but he can’t help but be wary either at the random request; Dream has no reason to ask him of all people to something as seemingly “grand” prom).
Soon enough, George is dragged out of his thoughts—though he could hardly call them such; it was more of a panicked scramble—as Dream clears his throat, his lips tugging into what can be seen as a more comfortable smile as the two make eye contact.
God George hates his smile.
“So?” Dream asks, tilting his head.
George bites his lip, and he leans back against his chair, apprehensive. His eyes flicker around the library, scanning for any sign of the blond's teammates—George isn’t stupid; he knows it’s a prank. It has to be a prank. Right? He has a sort-of girlfriend, and George knows how these kinds of movies go.
It’s definitely a prank.
George rests his eyes back on Dream, who is still smiling, and he exhales slowly. “No.”
Dream opens his mouth to speak, before pausing almost instantly, his smile dropping. He had expected George to say yes.
“What?”
“No, I won't go to prom with you,” George concludes, sitting back up straight, trying to refocus his gaze back onto the textbook in front of him.
“.....No?”
George rolls his eyes, huffing out a sigh. “No.”
George hears Dream shift, the silence awkward.
“Really?” Dream asks, and George nods, eyes still glued to the textbook.
“Really.”
Dream sighs. “Well, why not?”
George laughs, looking up at him. “What makes you think I want to go with you?”
Dream falters, shrugging. “I don’t know, why wouldn’t you?”
“I’m not interested,” George says plainly, and Dream stares at him momentarily. At that moment, George is sure he sees through the charade, sure Dream knows he’s spewing bullshit—knows that he would jump at the first real invitation from Dream, though that’s sort of pathetic—but the blond just nods slowly.
“Okay,” he says, standing up.
“Okay?” George repeats, raising his eyebrows skeptically, and Dream nods again. George wants to speak again, his mind daring to wonder if Dream was being serious, but before he can the blond is walking away.
Huh.
—
“George!”
It’s the next day, and George is currently stuffing his textbooks hastily into his bag when he hears his name being called. When he glances up from his locker, turning to see who called him, he finds a certain blond walking towards him—quite literally the last person he expected to see.
Oh, God.
“George,” Dream leans against the locker beside him with a grin, “good morning.”
Why does he know my name?
George eyes him wearily. “Good morning,” he responds quietly, closing his locker. He turns and starts walking away, Dream on his tail. The latter catches up quickly, walking at a steady pace beside him.
“So...” he drawls, and George glances at him, before focusing back on his target destination—his class at the end of the hall.
“So…?”
Dream clears his throat. “Wanna go to prom with me?”
George stops, turning his head to stare at Dream, bewildered. “What?”
“Do you want to go to prom with me?” he asks again, smiling feverishly.
“I- No!”
Dream whines, George picking up his pace to lose the blond—but Dream is quick. “Why not?”
George sighs, shaking his head. “You asked me this yesterday,” George says, and Dream frowns.
“Well, you never told me why,” he retorts.
“I’m pretty sure I did,” George mutters, briefly glancing at him. “Why do you want to go with me anyway?”
Dream falters at that, pressing his lips together firmly, walking quietly beside George. George risks another glance in his direction and sees what can only be described as a well-concealed panic.
What?
It’s gone in an instant, and Dream clears his throat before hesitantly speaking again. “I-... I don’t know,” he starts casually, quickly continuing before George could accuse him of anything else. “I guess you just caught my attention,” he finishes, and George holds his breath.
The two make it to George's class, and George walks in, completely disregarding the man following him.
He bites back a smile when Dreams shouts a sheepish farewell to him from the doorway.
—
“Dream asked me to prom again”
“What! Again?”
“Yeah. He asked me to prom yesterday, and again this morning.”
At lunch, George finds himself seated beside a now-gaping Karl, and across Quackity, who lets out a loud laugh at George's words.
After school the day before, when he turned Dream down the first time, George frantically called Sapnap in a panic over what had happened and then proceeded to hang up when the younger called him an idiot.
George figured it was fair to assume Sapnap had told Karl about the events too.
“Why didn’t we know about this the first time?” Karl asks.
He was wrong.
George shrugs and glares at Quackity, whose laughter dies down a bit as he starts to talk, shaking his head. “Well, what did you say?”
“I said no!”
Karl frowns. “That’s a little harsh if he’s asked you twice.”
“I don’t want to go to prom with him! He’s at fault for repeatedly asking me when I’ve already said no multiple times,” George argues.
Karl grins, stabbing a strawberry with his fork. “But you do want to go with him.”
George stays silent.
Quackity sighs, leaning to rest his hand against his palm. “Look, just tell him to piss off,” he says. “If you tell him you’re uncomfortable, I’m sure he’ll stop asking.”
Do I want him to stop asking?
George rests his head against the table in front of him, letting out a huff.
Sapnap pops up a little later, taking a seat beside Quackity with a grin. “Good afternoon gentlemen. George, I heard you had some fun this morning.”
Quackity’s laughter picks up again.
“What?” George lifts his head, and Sapnap laughs.
“Dream told me that he asked again this morning,” Sapnap says, and Karl frowns.
“Sapnap knew he asked yesterday?”
“Well-”
“You should’ve seen Dream during homeroom, it was so funny. He walked in with a grin and I assumed you said yes, because who the hell looks that happy after being turned down? But he told me you said no and just shrugged it off when I asked what he was gonna do next,” Sapnap rambles, grin wide. “I think he’s gonna ask again, honestly.”
“Well hopefully he doesn’t,” George mutters, and Sapnap hums. After a moment's silence, Sapnap purses his lips, watching George warily.
“You should say yes.”
George frowns, looking up. “What?”
“I said,” Sapnap pauses to sip his water, “you should say yes.”
George sighs, leaning back. “Why?”
“Because first, who wants to go to prom alone? And-”
“I wouldn’t go at all-”
“And.” Sapnap says, pointing a finger at the brunet, “You should go to prom. It’d be good to go, and I know you don’t get why, but it just would. Besides,” he says, smirking, “I know you’d have a lot of fun with Dream.”
The three sit in silence while George takes in Sapnap’s words before he hears Karl let out a stifled chuckle. “No way.”
“What?” George asks curiously, tilting his head. Sapnap lets out a loud laugh and jolts his chin in the direction behind George. Quackity moves to sit on the other side of George as the latter turns, and he can’t help but groan at the sight before him.
Dream.
“George!”
Dream smiles at them, crossing the table to sit in the now-empty seat next to Sapnap. “Hi,” he says softly, and George stares at him.
“What do you want?” George sighs and Dream's grin grows.
“I have a question.”
“I wonder what it could be,” George says sarcastically, and Dream bites the inside of his cheek.
They stare at each other for a moment, before the blond speaks, voice low. “Come to prom with me.”
George scoffs.
“That’s more of a demand,” he notes.
“Right,” Dream nods, “sorry.”
It’s quiet before Dream is leaning forward. “So, do you want to go to prom with me?”
“No.”
Dreams' smile never fades, and he sighs. “Please?”
“No, Dream.”
“Just come to prom with me, baby, please? I promise it’ll be worth it,” he says, and George tries not to let the word baby affect him, ignoring the way his stomach turns.
“Nope.”
The two sit in silence for a moment as Dream chews on his lower lip, nodding, unaware of the three other boys staring at him with smiles.
“Fine,” Dream declares, sitting up straighter. “Okay. That’s okay.”
“So you’ll stop asking?”
Dream frowns slightly, face laced with concern. “Do you wantme to stop asking?”
When George doesn’t reply, he grins. “Right,” he nods, reaching forward to squeeze George's hand gently. “Okay. See you later then,” he chimes, rising from the seat and excusing himself from the table.
Karl barks out a laugh, George glaring at him. “This is great!”
—
Lunch goes by pretty quickly after Dream’s appearance, and for the remainder of George's classes he anticipates the blond popping up with the same question.
While he was flattered at the request, it just felt too fake for George—he’d seen a fair share of teen romance movies, he knows how this goes. The weird girl gets asked by the popular guy who was dared to take her to prom, the guy falls for the girl, the girl finds out and is hurt, the guy apologizes, they kiss, and then they get married or something.
And sure, George had never thought of his life as a teen rom-com, but he just can’t seem to trust Dream, even if he wants to, because god does he want to.
He ends up thinking over the scenario until his last class of the day—the one he, coincidentally, shares with Dream. On his walk to the room, he makes a short decision: if Dream asks him to prom again, he’ll say yes.
If he just agrees, the dare can be done and over with sooner, and Dream will finally stop asking.
Georges cautiously enters his final class, half expecting the blond to jump him the moment he enters. To his surprise, however, Dream isn’t there yet, which is odd, because he’s usually there a solid ten minutes before George.
Still, George sits down, basking in the peace as he unpacks his bag, but of course, it doesn’t last long.
“George.”
He isn’t sure if he’s relieved to hear the familiar voice, or irritated.
“Dream,” he says, turning to face the younger as he sits, who beams, “hello.”
“Hi,” Dream replies softly as he sets his backpack down by his feet and bends over slightly to unzip it.
George waits patiently as Dream tugs out a notebook and pen, the silence surrounding the two. Dream sets his items down and when he realizes George is still turned to him, he smiles. “What’s up?”
“I thought-” George freezes, before pursing his lips. “Oh. Nothing.”
Dream laughs as George turns to face the front of the class, face warm. “Were you waiting to turn me down?”
Before George can reply, Dream sighs sadly. “Very hurtful,” he says, though he’s still smiling, “but no. I still need my pride George, I can’t have you rejecting me in front of an entire class,” he teases. The brunet only rolls his eyes.
“Right, of course,” George says, nodding. “But um,” he pauses, staring down at his lap, “what if I, hypothetically, decided to agree this time.”
In the corner of his eye, George can see Dream freeze where he’s bent over to reach into his bag. The blond slowly sits back up, clearing his throat as he turns to the other. “I would, hypothetically, be a very happy man.”
George rolls his eyes with a scoff. “It’s not like we’re getting married, don’t say that like I just said yes to your proposal.”
“Well, are you saying yes?”
“To a proposal?”
Dream grins. “No, to- to prom.”
George chews the inside of his cheek for a moment before sighing. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Jesus, yes Dream, yes. I’ll go to prom with you,” George says, glaring up at the blond. “Now will you shut up?”
“Well-“
When he’s cut off by a loud voice at the front of the room, George can’t help but be grateful.
He’s slightly starting to regret agreeing.
Not even thirty minutes later, he feels something poking his arm, and he glares to his right. “What.”
Dream smiles. “Go out with me.”
George sighs, turning back towards the front. “What’s in it for me?”
“I’ll pay for your meal,” Dream offers, and George rolls his eyes with a huff, keeping his gaze attached to the board.
“I had assumed you would’ve anyway.”
Dream shakes his head, leaning closer to the brunet. George tries to ignore how warm Dream feels pressed against him. “You’re cheeky,” he says, tilting his head to the side, blocking George's view of the board. “It’s cute.”
Warmth floods his face, and with a scoff, George shoves Dream's head out of the way. “Let me learn.”
The rest of the class goes by pretty quickly, but despite George's best efforts, he could hardly focus with Dream openly staring at him. He had turned to make eye contact, hoping that maybe catching Dream in the act would fluster him and make him turn away, but in the end, the blond would only smile affectionately, leaving George to turn away with a rose tint to his cheeks.
George shoves all his stuff into his bag, and when he stands he sees Dream waiting by the front door for him. He raises a brow as he approaches, the blond grinning in return. “Can I help you?”
“Let’s go out tonight.”
George sighs, walking past him, towards the door. “I never even agreed to go out at all.”
“I know,” Dream says, following him closely, “but I figured you would eventually.”
“Like with prom?”
“Yeah, only… sooner.”
George grins, shaking his head. “I still don’t get why you’re so dedicated to spending time with me,” he huffs, and Dream shrugs.
“I just think you’re neat, that's all.”
George freezes. “What?” He says, heat rushing to his face as he turns to the blond, who’s smiling widely.
“Huh?”
“What did you say?”
Dream bites down his smile and shakes his head. “Nothing, let’s go,” he says, leaving the class.
George stares at the door for a moment, before Dream pops back up. “Are we going or not?”
Fucking Sapnap.
“Yeah, sorry.”
They go to their respective lockers, and Dream tells him that he’s parked near the front of the school, so when George is done putting his stuff away he’ll be waiting there. George nods, still not sure when he even agreed to go out with the blond, but before he can think about it for long, he’s in a 2016 green Toyota Corolla, and it’s probably one of the ugliest cars George has ever seen in his life, but it’s charming, and it’s Dream’s, and that makes it a little better.
When he mentions this to the other, he only laughs.
Dream drives them to a small diner, one that George briefly remembers Sapnap calling a jockey-hangout. There aren’t a lot of cars in the parking lot, and the inside looks pretty empty, so George assumes it’s a place reserved for after-game meals.
He’s proven right when Dream starts explaining how he found the spot.
They talk as they leave the car and go into the diner. He tells George about Sapnap and him coming here when they finished playing games in middle school, and how the ritual was carried out into high school. When they branched off and met other people on their football team, it ended up becoming a group outing, and now the spot was reserved for post-game meals.
When they’re seated, they sit quietly in their booth by a window, picked by Dream himself, and George turns to look out the window.
“Why is your car yellow?” George asks, and Dream looks up from his menu.
“What?”
“Well I don’t know,” he starts, turning to face Dream. “Most people don’t get yellow cars, they usually go for like- blue or red, or silver. Why did you choose yellow?”
Dream hums. “Well, it’s not my car, it’s my sister's, but I guess I sort of influenced her choice,” he grins, “and uh. It’s not yellow.”
George's eyes widen. “Is it green?”
“Yeah,” Dream smiles, leaning forward. “It’s green. I don’t even know if they make yellow cars in that style—not sure I’ve ever seen one,” he says, before focusing back on George, tilting his head. “You’re colourblind, right?”
“Yeah, I am,” he nods, before raising an eyebrow. “How did you know?”
Dream shrugs. “A guess,” he leans back, before smiling again. “And also Sapnaps brought it up before.”
“Sounds like he talks about me a lot,” George mutters, and Dream laughs.
“Only when I ask.”
George flushes at the reply and tries to ignore the insinuation in Dream's words.
The waiter comes over and takes their orders, and when she leaves, they talk mindlessly. Dream asks him about his life, and what it was like in England, and in return, George asks him about football and his friends. It’s calm—pleasant, even, and George can’t help but feel like he’s known Dream his entire life when they talk. He knows it’s foolish to think that maybe Dream does like him, but when Dream pays the bill and guides him out with a hand in his, he lets himself pretend for a while.
He lets Dream drive him home, talking about what a great time he had, and he lets Dream put a hand on his knee when they stop at red lights. He gives Dream his phone number when he asks for it, and he calls Dream an idiot for making his name “George <3”—something Dream only smiles and shakes his head at.
He even lets Dream walk him to his door, pressing a kiss on the top of his head.
And when Dream leaves, George shuts the door behind himself and leans back with a wide smile, letting his body slide to the floor.
Because if anything, George is a fool.
—
Sapnap is all over him the next day at lunch.
“You went on a date and didn’t tell me!?”
George jumps at the booming voice behind him and glares when Sapnap sits in front of him, Quackity and Karl not far behind. “Keep your voice down,” George scowls, “and it wasn’t a date.”
“That’s not what Dream thinks,” Sapnap chimes in, and George pauses.
He looks around, before turning to face Sapnap wearily. “He mentioned it to you?”
Sapnap nods while he bites into his sandwich. “Yup,” he says, swallowing his food. “He came in all happy again this morning and I said ‘what, did George turn you down again?’ and he went ‘no, we went on a date last night’!”
George rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t a date.”
“You guys kissed.”
Karl gasps and George groans loudly.
“We did not, he’s lying to you Sapnap,” George huffs.
“Who’s lying to who?”
George groans again as Dream sits next to him with a smile.
“You’re lying,” Sapnap says, licking his fingers, and George sighs.
He turns to face the blond—who’s already looking at him—and frowns. “Why did you tell him we kissed?”
“Because we did?” Dream tilts his head, and George flushes red.
“We did not!”
Dream hums absentmindedly, crossing his arms on top of the table and leaning forward. “Right right, I kissed you, sorry.”
“It was hardly a kiss,” George huffs, and Dream turns to him with a smile.
“Do you want a real one?”
“Guys!” Sapnap says, hands coming down onto the table. “Cut the tension and let me eat in peace,” he whines, and Dream only laughs, turning his attention back to the younger.
“Alright, sorry.”
So they eat lunch together, and it’s nice. George lets himself think this means something, tells himself that maybe Dream will eat with them more because he and George had a good time, and he’s friends with Sapnap, so if they, maybe, went out, it wouldn't be awkward introducing each other to their friends.
And when Dream turns to smile at him during their lunch, his hand brushing Georges under the table, George lets himself think that yeah. Maybe he likes me.
After they finish lunch, Dream walks him to his next class, and the gesture is all George can think about for the rest of the day.
When all his classes come and go and he ends up in his last class of the day, it’s filled with more glances and whispered laughter, and George wonders if the hand brushing against his own is an accident, or if it’s intentional.
The bell rings before he realizes the day’s over.
They start packing their bags when most of the students have left the room, but Dream grabs George's arm to hold him back when he moves to leave with the rush of the students. “Wait,” he says, shifting to stand in front of the brunet's desk. “You walk to school, right?”
“Yeah,” George says, shrugging his bag onto his shoulder. “Why?”
“Let me drive you home.”
George stares at him momentarily, and Dream smiles sheepishly.
“Please.”
So George agrees, and like lunch, it becomes a thing.
Dream will eat lunch with them, pester George all day on his phone, and when it’s over, he’ll take George home in his sister's ugly green car with a broken AC, and despite the heat of May, George can’t help but enjoy the rides because it’s with Dream, and he doesn’t care about the heat when Dreams there.
Sapnap seems to love the new change more than he does—if that's even possible. He spends time asking George what they did every time they go out, and if they kissed, and if they didn’t—which they haven’t—he whines and tells George to just get it over with already.
The thing is, George is waiting too.
—
Prom is less than a week away, and George is a little nervous.
He’s been to one school dance, the dance where he met Dream, but that was different—prom is this fancy get-together that actually matters. It’s the kind of dance you look back at in your forties and think about with a smile, a time you wish you could go back to when you’re old and wrinkly.
George doesn’t want to ruin that for Dream.
He’s awkward, he can’t dance, and Dream probably doesn’t even like him like that. Why wouldn’t he want to go to prom with someone he likes? Sure, they’re friends now, but George can’t help but feel like he’s holding Dream back.
Not only that, but George has no idea what he’s going to wear.
Yeah, the attire most people wear is a suit, but the only suit George owns is from his eighth-grade graduation, and it’s too tight for him to squeeze into now. He needs a new suit, but he doesn’t want to go alone, and god forbid he goes to Sapnap with the issue—so, embarrassingly, he tells his mom.
She’s, first, ecstatic to hear that he's even going to prom, talking about how great it is and how much fun he’ll have, and then she agrees to help him get an outfit.
They go to the mall first, and, despite how embarrassing she is when he walks out in a suit, cooing at how handsome he is, it goes smoothly, and he ends up finding what he came for.
In all the chaos, however, he completely forgot to check his phone.
There’s a text from Dream asking if he wants to meet somewhere, so with a smile, he tells his mom he’s going to stay behind, and texts Dream to come pick him up from the mall.
He doesn’t have to wait very long.
He climbs into the car and is greeted with the familiar scent of Dream’s air freshener—something fruity—and a wide grin.
“Hi,” he huffs and he shuts the door, buckling himself in. “I’m sorry for making you come all the way here.”
Dream shakes his head, shifting the gear stick into drive. “It’s alright, I wanted to meet anyway.”
George nods, and it’s relatively quiet. George tells Dream he went to the mall to get a gift for his mom, and that he didn’t feel like walking back. When Dream frowns and tells George he should’ve asked him to come so he could get a ride, he flushes and sinks back into the seat, dismissing the situation.
Dream drives down to the beach, and they sit in the car for a moment before he turns to George with a smile.
“Walk with me?”
“Um. How’s your girlfriend?”
It’s a lot colder by the water at night than it is during the day, though George doesn’t come to the beach all that often. They walk together by the rocks for a while, and George almost laughs at how fast Dream turns to look at him.
“My what?”
He smiles sheepishly. “Your kind-of-girlfriend? Rachel?”
Dream pauses mid-step, before sighing. “Did Sapnap tell you we were dating?” He drawls, and when George nods, he sighs. “Sapnap’s an idiot, don’t listen to him.”
“So you don’t have a girlfriend?”
Dream laughs. “No. She’s just a friend.”
George nods as they walk, and for a moment, the air is still, before Dream clears his throat and turns his head to look at the brunet and finally ask what he dragged them out here for.
“There’s this party,” he starts slowly, eyeing George wearily. “It’s on Friday. A lot of people are going, and I know you aren’t a big party guy, but I’d like it if you came.”
George sighs, looking down at their feet. “I don’t know, Dream.”
“You don’t have to,” he reassures, “and I wouldn’t be able to take you so I don’t even know if you have a ride—I would take you but my sister needs me to drive her somewhere first and I had this whole talk with my mom but I really couldn’t get out of it, so-”
“Dream,” George laughs, “it’s fine, don’t worry,” he says.
It’s quiet for a moment, and George can feel Dream's gaze on the side of his face. He rubs up and down his arms with his hands when the wind blows, and he hears rustling before there’s warmth around his shoulders. When he glances over, the blond is walking with his eyes glued to the water.
“I’ll think about it, okay?”
Dream turns to face him quickly and watches as George pulls his arms through the sleeves. He lets his hands fall when the coat’s on and turns to look back at the younger. “I’ll think it over.”
Dream nods slowly, smiling. He knocks their shoulders together while they walk. “Alright. No pressure, okay?”
George smiles softly. “Okay.”
They walk around for a bit and just before the sun goes down, Dream grins down at him and offers to take him home.
The drive back is just as silent as their drives usually are, but it’s a comfortable silence. When they get to George's house and he starts shrugging off the letterman, Dream grabs his arm gently.
“Don’t,” he says. “Keep it.”
George flushes, dropping his hand. “Are you sure?”
Dream smiles. “Yeah. It looks better on you anyway.”
George nods, opening the passenger door and getting out. He watches Dream leave from the porch before rushing inside and heading upstairs to his room.
And if George lays in bed that night, falling asleep while still wearing the jacket? That's a secret for him and him only.
—
After spending more time with Dream, George is a little less worried about prom.
He and Dream are getting closer, so he doesn’t really need to worry about how much Dream wants to go with him, he has his suit—thanks mom—and Dream bought their prom tickets last night, because apparently, you have to pay, a fact George did not know.
George tried to convince Dream to let him pay for his ticket, but the blond refused, with a proud “It’s more gentlemanly if I pay George. I’m like your knight!”
(George doesn’t see how paying for a prom ticket correlates to him being a knight, but he simply smiled and nodded because really, it was cute seeing Dream try so hard).
So with everything sorted out, George finally lets himself feel excited about the event. He never would have thought that would happen, could have never pictured himself feeling excited about a school dance, but he supposes people change.
Now though, it’s finally Friday, and George has no idea what he’s doing here.
If George had once said he hated dances, he hated house parties a whole lot more—it was just school dances, but without the limited supervision, and more alcohol, and sometimes drugs. He wasn’t sure why he decided to come, but with how Dream had smiled at him and had given him his jacket and god, he wantedGeorge there.
How was he supposed to say no?
The bass is loud when he walks in, and the air is grossly moist. Sapnaps house looks different in this lighting—he’s been to the aftermath of parties, helping the younger clean even if he didn’t partake in the events, but he had never seen it when the strobe lights were still on, and when the cups on the floor didn’t cover his carpet.
He hears someone holler his name over the music, and he grins when he turns to see Dream.
“George, you came!”
“I came!” He laughs, and Dream presses a wet kiss to his cheek. Dream steps back when George shoves his head with a smile, and he helps the brunet out of the letterman, hanging it up for him.
When George watches him curiously, he smiles. “You’ll get hot if you keep it on,” Dream says, and George nods. “Anyway, let’s get you a drink—do you want a glass of water?” Dream says, leaning down to be heard over the music, and George nods again. With a gentle hand on his back, George is led into the kitchen. A couple is making out against the counter, and Dream laughs at George's face when they press their crotches together.
He leaves George to grab a glass and carefully moves around the couple to reach the tap. George takes the time to look around. There are a lot of people, naturally, and he makes eye contact with a blond girl sitting on the couch. She’s staring at them intently with a frown on her face, and when she realizes George is looking at her, she frowns even more and turns to talk to her friend again.
“Here you go,” Dream says, and George takes the water wordlessly.
“Who’s that?” George asks, and when Dream tilts his head, he points to the blonde on the couch.
Dream hums, placing a hand on the small of his back again. “That is Rachel,” he points out, and George nods.
He knew Dream said they were just friends, but George couldn’t help but get a bad feeling from the way her eyes were watching them before.
“Um,” Dream brings him out of his thoughts, and when he turns to the blond he’s frowning. “Listen, George, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“It’s about prom,” he says, and George tenses. Dream chews on his lower lip, but when he opens his mouth to speak again, Sapnap comes barreling into the kitchen with a laugh.
“Guys,” he says with a grin, grabbing their arms, “come join us, we’re all going outback.”
Dream pries off his arm. “In a second, Sap, I have to-”
“Dude!”
An arm is slung around George's neck, and he looks over to see Quackity. “What are we doing in here ladies? Kissing,” he teases, making a wet kissing noise. George only laughs, turning to face Dream.
“Maybe tell me later?”
Dream purses his lips, before sighing, nodding his head. “Yeah, later.”
“Great!” Sapnap says, and then they’re being moved to the backyard.
It’s cold outside and a part of George wishes he had kept the jacket, but Dream sticks close to him the entire time, heat radiating off his body naturally so it’s not so bad.
After mingling for a bit, George moves to excuse himself, saying he has to go to the bathroom. Dream offers to go with him and suggests that they go talk after, but George shakes his head, saying he’ll be back.
He can feel eyes on the back of his head again.
He hands Dream his glass to watch while he’s gone and heads off to the washroom.
George shoves his way through bodies to get back inside, and he’s just reached the sliding door when a hand gently grabs his shoulder. He nearly jumps when a soft voice speaks behind him.
“George, was it?”
He turns, smiling hesitantly at the blonde. She drops her hand with a quiet apology. “Um, yeah. Rachel, right?”
She nods. “Yeah. Um,” Rachel says, looking around wearily. “Can I talk to you? Alone?”
George nods, and she grabs his hand, leading him towards a shoe closet near the front door. She carefully walks in and flicks on the light, shutting the door behind him.
“Listen,” she starts, “I know you- you seem like a great person, and I don’t mean to ruin anything but I just. I was there when it happened and I feel so guilty thinking that you’re gonna get your heart broken, especially by a friend, and I-”
“Rachel,” he cuts off her rambling with a smile, tilting his head, “what are you talking about?”
She looks at him with such sad eyes, and for a moment, George wonders if someone died.
“Sapnap, he- when we all went out last month after a home game, someone brought up prom, and Sapnap was talking about his friend, and how he never went to dances, and then someone said that he should take you, but Sapnap said Dream should do it, and then Dream said no so Sapnap dared him, and-”
“Dare?”
Rachel sighs, grabbing his hands with a frown. “You seem like such a- a nice guy, George, I’m so sorry. I know we don’t really know each other, but I couldn’t let you go on without you knowing the truth,” she says. “It just felt wrong.”
He stares at her for a moment, thinking over what she just said, before it all hits him at once.
Sapnap dared Dream to ask me to prom.
“I’m so sorry.”
I’m such an idiot.
“Maybe there’s a misunderstanding! Maybe we can ask, right?” She tries, and he shakes his head.
“Thank you, Rachel, for telling me,” he smiles sadly. “I’m gonna go home, okay?”
She tries to grab his arm but he’s already halfway out the door when she reaches out.
When he moves towards the front door, he hears someone frantically run in the other direction behind him, but he ignores it in favour of putting on his shoes. He leaves Dream's jacket hung up on the rack.
—
When George was in seventh grade, his classmates thought the funniest thing in the world was asking girls out and then telling them it was a joke. He never understood why it was so funny, and part of it might have been because he wasn’t interested in girls, but the idea of toying with someone's heart like that just didn’t appeal to him.
It was something that you did when you were bored—it was rude, and George was never one of the boys in his grade to pull those kinds of pranks.
He knew this sort of thing happened. He saw it back home, he saw it in movies—but for some reason, even though he was so weary at first, he had let himself believe that Dream liked him. Maybe it was hope, or maybe he was just a fool, but he thought that there was something there—something in the way Dream smiled at him.
He was an idiot for listening to Sapnap.
—
When George wakes up the next morning, his eyes are puffy and they burn. He blindly reaches forward to grab his phone and squints at the bright light radiating off of it. He reads the time and frowns when he sees ten missed messages from Dream, four from Sapnap, and missed calls from both of them.
With a frown, he opens Sapnap’s first.
Sapnap - 12:33
whered you go lol
Sapnap - 12:40
shit george, rachel just told usyou’ve gotta let dream and i explain man, it’s not what you think
i promise
He doesn’t even get a chance to look at Dreams before his phone is vibrating, ringing out with a call. He declines.
When Dream calls back again, and then again, and then again, he finally picks up.
“What?”
“George,” he exhales, sounding relieved. “Hi.”
“What do you want?”
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know Dream, what do you think?”
It’s quiet, and he can hear Dream take a deep breath.
“Can we talk?”
“We’re talking now aren’t we?”
“You know what I mean,” Dream says. George does.
“I’m allowed to be upset,” he says.
“I know.”
“I’m allowed to be irrational and snippy if I want to be.”
Dream sighs. “I know.”
It's quiet again, and George can’t help it when a lump forms again in his throat.
“Am I really enough of a loser to be used as a dare?”
Dream makes a choked noise when George's voice cracks and there’s frantic shifting on the other end. “I’m coming over, okay?”
“No,” George rushes out, rubbing his eyes. “Don’t. I don’t want to see you,” he lies.
“George-”
“I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I’m allowed to want that, right?”
The shifting stops. “You are,” he whispers. “You’re allowed to want anything. Everything.”
George wants to sob. He doesn’t know how Dream’s making him feel better as if he isn’t the reason George is sad in the first place.
“I want to hang up,” George says quietly, swallowing the lump. He won't cry, not yet.
“That’s okay, you can hang up.”
“Okay.”
Neither of them hung up, and George waits, waits for anything, something.
Tell me you’re sorry. Please.
“George?” His voice sounds timid—careful.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
George wipes his nose as lays down on his side on his pillow, shifting his phone into his right hand.
“I’m going to hang up now.”
“Okay.”
When George presses the red button at the bottom of his screen, tossing his phone on the floor and shoving his head into his pillow to sob, he silently prays Dream comes to see him.
He doesn’t.
—
He feels dumb for a while, for thinking Dream liked him.
His mom came upstairs occasionally, bringing him food or asking if he was okay, but he never said anything, only nodded and ate.
After the weekend was over, he forced himself out of bed and to school, which, though proven to be difficult, was good for him. He figured he could use some socialization after a weekend locked inside his darkroom.
What he did not want, however, was socialization with Sapnap.
“George.”
He tenses where he stands at his locker, a chill sliding down his spine.
“George, can we talk?”
“No.”
Sapnap sighs while George turns from his locker, walking down the halls. Sapnap catches up relatively fast.
Damn football players.
“I can explain,” he tries, shifting to walk backwards in front of the older, “if you could just give me a chance to explain, I-”
“I don’t care, Sapnap, okay?”
The younger stops his steps, and George does too.
“What?”
The brunet laughs sadly, tossing his hands up. “I don’t care! I don’t,” he shakes his head. “I was an idiot for listening to you, and I was an idiot for thinking Dream would like me, and I’m just- done.
I don’t want your apology, I don’t want your pity. I’m done, okay? I don’t care anymore.”
They stand in tense silence for a moment, and when Sapnap opens his mouth to talk again, George has already entered his class.
—
“You should still come.”
It’s been a few days since George last saw Dream—a few days since the party.
It would be unfair to say Dream hasn’t been trying to fix things because he has. He calls every night, texts George, and he even tried to talk to the brunet during class once, which ended up in a long lecture from the brunet about privacy and respect.
So yes, he’s been trying, and it’s annoying, but George would be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel special, because it did.
He knows Dream’s sorry, and really, he isn’t so mad anymore, but he’s humiliated because sure, maybe Dream did like him in the end and they were good friends, but the fact that it started as a joke and George convinced himself Dream liked him as more than a good friend is embarrassing.
It’s petty, George thinks, to be ignoring Dream out of embarrassment, but what is he supposed to do? Own up to it?
Right, because that’s so easy.
Since then, Karls has been hounding him about coming to prom, arguing “you have a free ticket now, so just come!”
“I don’t like dances,” he murmurs.
Quackity groans, slamming his hands down. “Listen and listen very carefully, okay?” He snaps, standing up. “You need to stop. Stop! Just because some ass broke your heart doesn’t mean you should wallow in sadness for your entire life. You’re a kid, George. Don’t let one guy ruin your night.
You have a free ticket. Use it, and come with us. And if you’re really gonna be so prissy about it, just think of it as… saving waste, or something, okay? Jesus.”
So George goes to prom.
—
It looks exactly how he thought it would.
There are streamers everywhere, lights shining down, and people grinding on each other against the walls.
It’s disgusting.
George kind of loves it.
He feels happy for what feels like the first time in a long time, taking photos with Quackity and Karl, beaming at the underpaid cameraman behind the lens catering a tired but kind smile. They each get a set of pictures, and the two boys drag George onto the dance floor when “their jam” comes on.
It’s fun.
Until it’s not.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” A voice booms and all heads turn towards the stage at the front of the gym. Standing in a white silk dress is the principal, the mic taken off the stand, resting carefully in her hand. “Are we having fun tonight?”
There’s loud cheering before her loud laugh floods George’s ears. “Alright! Good, good. Now, it is with great pleasure that I bring to you this year's prom king and queen!”
There’s shouting all around him, and George smiles at the positive atmosphere.
He doesn’t see Karls frown.
“First, let’s start with our queen,” she drawls, and the crowd goes silent before she beams. “Ashley Winston!”
A girl with light brown hair heads for the stage, her face completely flushed. She bends down for the crown and beams when the crowd cheers, stepping forward to make a speech.
“George?” Karl asks softly, grabbing his arm, “do you wanna go get some air?”
The brunets smile fades for a moment as he turns to meet Karls sad eyes. “What? Why?”
“And for this year's prom king!”
“I just think we should get some air,” Karl tries again, tugging his arm. “We don’t really need to see who-”
“Clay Amets!”
If George thought they were loud before, the crowd of teens go crazy at Dreams name. He turns to face the stage, not remembering when he got so close and stares up at the blond.
The blond, who looks so good.
So okay.
He smiles at the crowd sheepishly, his face slightly flushed from all the attention, and steps towards the microphone placed on its stand. “Thank you, god, I-”
He pauses when he locks eyes with George.
The room is silent, waiting for him to speak, and George watches his throat bob, feels his own move when he swallows thickly.
“Um-”
George is shoving his way through the crowd before he can hear Dreams' speech.
In movies, there’s always the moment where the leading boy realizes what he did was wrong. He realizes that he loves the other person and that he needs them.
George wonders if Dream will ever have that realization.
He shoves through the bodies littering the halls, heading for the private bathroom the school had a limited supply of, praying that it was empty, and to his luck, it was. With a shaky breath, he shuts the door and moves backwards, steps slow until his back hits the wall. His legs feel weak like they’re made of jello, and he carefully slides down, letting his legs bunch up against his chest.
George’s heart hammers hard in his chest, and for a moment, he wishes the world would open up and swallow him whole because yes he knew Dream would be there, but he looked so good, so unfazed by what had happened, and it made George realize that he probably never really cared, no matter how much Karl tried to say he did in the past few days.
“George?”
And of course, he saw George leave—George was an idiot for thinking he had gotten away fast enough.
The knock is timid, a sound George wouldn’t have been able to hear had he not been listening for it.
“What.” His reply is muffled, his face pressed against his knees.
Dream sighs. “I’m coming in, okay?”
When there’s no reply, Dream opens the door and takes a careful step inside. He shuts it gently behind him, shifting on his feet when it's shut. “Are you okay?”
“No.”
“I didn’t mean to lie to you,” Dream says softly, and George feels pressure building behind his eyes. He blinks it away.
“Can we not do this here-”
“I promise you,” Dream insists, hastily stepping forward and kneeling in front of him, “I didn’t mean to lie.”
After a moment of silence, George lifts his head slightly. “But you did,” he says quietly, and Dream nods.
“I did,” he says, “I’m sorry.”
George drops his head again and Dream sighs. When he hears Dream move to stand, he quickly jolts up. “Don’t go,” he cries, grabbing Dreams ankle, and the blond turns from where he was facing the sink.
“I wasn’t- oh, George,” he says sadly, moving closer again to sit down in front of the brunet. George doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Dream takes his head in between his hands, thumbs wiping the wet streaks away. George shifts closer, letting his knees fall to the floor, burying his head in Dream's shoulder, and when the blond rubs his back, he lets out a sob.
“Don’t cry,” Dream says, and it only makes George cry more, because of how soft he’s speaking, and how careful he is, and when Dream says “baby” like his own heart was broken, he shakes.
He wants to kick himself for crying, wants to tear his own eyes out, because it’s so embarrassing being so emotional, and he really didn’t want to cry in front of Dream.
And then Dream’s pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and somehow it makes George cry even harder because why does Dream always make him feel so much better? It’s unfair that he’s sitting on the cold tiled floor, sobbing, and the man that’s making him cry so hard is holding him, somehow making him feel better by just being there.
“I’m sorry I’m making you miss your prom.”
“What?”
George swallows the lump in his throat, his heart slowing down slightly when Dream runs his hands through his hair. “You were voted prom king,” he mummers, “and now you’re stuck babysitting me in the bathroom.”
Dream shakes his head. “I’m not babysitting you. And I don’t care about the- the prom king thing. I care about you, George. I-”
Dream stops, taking a few breaths. George sniffles.
“It wasn’t a dare George,” he says gently, and George shifts to look up at him.
“What?”
“I asked you because I liked you,” Dream says, “or- like you.”
George’s tears slowly stop, and it’s quiet for a moment. Dream sighs sadly. “Look,” he starts, hands holding George's waist gently. “I know what Rachel said, she told me after she told you, but you have to believe me, George, you have to,” he says, and when George is silent, he tries again. “The guys—they wanted to play it off like a dare, but I knew Sapnap “dared” me to ask because I wouldn’t have done it without some sort of- I don't know, motivation?”
George frowns. “Why?”
“Because you’re you.”
“I’m me?”
Dream nods. “Yeah,” he says, and he wipes George's cheeks. “You’re so—god George, you don’t realize how amazing you are,” he says softly, and the brunet reddens.
“You’re just saying that,” he mumbles, and Dream grins.
“I’m not,” he says. He gently kisses George’s forehead, pulling the brunet onto his lap. “I like you so much, George. So much.”
“Really?” George asks, and Dream laughs.
“Really.”
George takes a deep breath, putting his head back on Dream’s shoulder. “Go over what happened again.”
“Sapnap knew I liked you and dared me to ask you to prom in front of other people so I would get the courage to actually ask you.”
George’s breathing has calmed down, and now that he thinks about it, the entire situation just seems stupid. Still, he shifts in Dreams lap, hands gripping the front of his shirt, and listens.
“Rachel was there, and she thought that it was one big prank and not some stupid confidence boost, so she told you thinking it was the right thing to do,” Dream says, shaking his head. “I know she meant well, but man. I felt bad though—after she told us and Sapnap explained the situation, she looked like she felt so guilty, and told us you went home.”
Dream sighs. “I was so worried, George. I was so, so worried.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to make you cry,” he mutters carefully into George's hair. “I never want to be the one to make you cry.”
They sit in silence again for a minute, and then George pulls away. “So,” George says, “you’re sorry.”
Dream nods, “very.”
“And you like me?”
“I do,” he nods again.
“I don’t forgive you yet,” George says, and when Dream frowns he smiles sheepishly, “but maybe you can make it up to me.”
“How?”
“Kiss me.”
Dream stares at him for a moment, and George blushes at the eye contact, dropping his head into his hands. “God, never mind, that was so stupid, pretend I didn’t say that, okay? I forgive you, it’s okay, whatever-”
“I was so worried!”
George's hands fall from his face slowly as he looks back up. “What?”
“When you said you didn’t forgive me, I thought you were seriously mad and I got so worried,” Dream exclaims, an arm resting over his eyes. George frowns.
“I am still sort of upset,” he mutters, and Dream lets his arm fall, looking down at George.
“I know,” he says, “you’re allowed to be.”
George nods. Dream smiles. “But you’re not mad?”
He laughs, “no. I’m not mad,” he says, “but I will be if you don’t kiss me.”
Dream beams. “Really?”
“Really.”
Dream laughs when George flails after he picks him up to move him off his lap. “Well that’s a shame,” he starts as George presses his knees down on the cold tile of the bathroom floor around Dreams hips, “cause I’ve got to go, so-”
George leans forward to press their lips together.
It’s gentle at first, hesitant. Neither of them knows what’s happening, and George is about to pull away when Dream pulls himself out of his seemingly frozen stupor to kiss him back.
It’s nice, kissing Dream. He smells good up close, which is a weird thought that makes George laugh, and he worries that he messed it up because he laughed out loud, but then Dream laughs too and pulls back to smile at him, and he feels a little less worried.
“I like you too,” George says quietly, and Dream smiles.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
When they move forward again, Dream kisses him carefully like he’s something to be worshipped, and it’s an unfamiliar but welcome feeling to George. Dream's lips are weirdly soft despite being chapped, and he smiles into the kiss when Dream does.
“I can’t kiss you if you’re smiling like that,” Dream says, and George laughs.
“Sorry,” he beams, moving back. “I’m just happy.”
Dream smiles up at him, hands resting on his waist. “I’m happy too.”
Dream dives back in, hands gripping his waist a little tighter, and he pulls George back down onto his lap. George lets Dream maneuver his placement when the kiss gets heated, and he has to lean back for a moment to catch his breath.
“Breathe through your nose,” Dream chides with a grin. He tugs him forward, and George gasps at the feeling of a wet muscle pressing against his lips. Dreams tongue dives into his mouth, and he lets out a choked noise at the feeling, tongues clashing together inside his mouth.
Inevitably, the moment is slightly ruined when the bathroom door bursts open, Sapnap red-faced and heaving.
“George,” he pants, leaning down slightly to rest his palms on his knees. “God George, I’m so- oh!”
The two pull apart quickly, George's face flushed a bright red. Dream laughs. “Knock next time, Jesus.”
Sapnap stares at them with wide eyes while George wiggles around, slightly uncomfortable. Dream has a wide smile like he finds the whole thing hilarious, and George can’t shake the feeling of utter humiliation at being caught, even if it's during something as tame as making out in the bathroom.
Dream sighs, his hands still tight on George's waist. “What is it, Sap?”
“I- Right! Yeah, um. I’m sorry about what happened George,” he shakes his head, and George smiles sheepishly, glad to change the subject.
“It’s okay,” he says, leaning back from Dreams chest. “I’m just glad it wasn’t a genuine dare, you know?”
Sapnap grins. “As if Dream would have to pretend to like you,” he grins and laughs when Dream throws a toilet-paper roll at him.
“I mean,” George starts nervously, and Dream frowns at him.
“George-”
“I know,” he beams, looking back at the blond. “I’m just saying.”
“Well don’t,” he shakes his head, leaning forward to press a kiss to George's forehead, “because I meant what I said. I promise.”
“I’m gonna go,” Sapnap interrupts, and they both look over at him, Dream turns glaring at him playfully. George grins,
“Maybe that’d be for the best,” Dream says.
He nods, turning, but before Sapnap leaves, he turns back with a smile. “I really am sorry.”
“I know,” George says. “And I really am okay.”
Sapnap nods, patting the door. “You two stay safe, alright? No funny business unless you’re protected, and please for the love of god don’t do it for the first time at the school, Jesus-”
George whines loudly, throwing the hand towel hanging off the wall at him. “Get out!”
“Okay okay,” he laughs, slipping behind the door and shutting it gently behind him.
“He’s an idiot,” George mutters, and Dream laughs, resting his head in the crook of the brunet's neck.
“He is. But he’s also right, you know.”
“About what?”
Dream smirks, looking up at him. “We should be safe when we-”
“Shut up!”
Dream laughs, and when he delves back into for another kiss, George willingly accepts it.
George had never kissed anybody before, but he’s glad his first time was with Dream.
The rest of the night goes smoothly once they leave the bathroom.
They don’t go back to the dance, opting to head back to George’s house and sleep instead, and it’s nice. Dream is warm next to him, and his bed doesn’t feel as cold as it usually does.
It’s comfortable.
When they lay down that night, Dream is staring at him with a wide smile, one he’s been catering since they left the bathroom.
“What?”
Dream shrugs. “I’m just happy is all.”
George moves closer to the blond, tucking his head into Dreams chest. “I’m happy too.”
And George is happy.
He hates movie cliches, absolutely despises how the girl forgives the guy so easily, but this feels different, and even if it’s not he doesn’t care, because he might be a fool in love, but Dream loves him too, and that’s all that matters.
That’s all that’ll ever matter.
“So,” Dream starts, and George can hear the smile in his voice. “Do you want to go to a party next weekend?”
“You are such an idiot.”