Chapter Text
“This is bullshit, Karl. You completely half-assed your own dare, you can’t tell me I didn’t do mine right! That’s not fair!”
Dream chuckles, letting his eyes close as he feels the soft material of the chair behind his head and watches the soft lights emitting from the LEDs dance over his eyelids. His friends’ arguing starts to grow quieter as he slips away, feeling the pull of sleep tug on him already. Just before he drifts off completely, a shrill voice rings through the small room. Dream jerks awake, eyes open and suddenly alert.
“Dream! Earth to Dream? Did you hear me?”
Dream looks over to George, feeling a sheepish smile creep across his face as he shifts in his spot, moving his knees into a criss-cross position. “No, sorry. I’m a little sleepy, long day of classes. What’d you say?”
George rolls his eyes. “I said that since Karl is being a pissbaby, it’s your turn for truth or dare. I’m done playing with that cheater,” he says, directing the last bit at Karl, who just makes a face at him before turning back to Sapnap.
He snorts. “George, truth or dare is a game for, like, 7th graders. I don’t want to play.” He can already feel his eyes getting heavy again and he’s about to go back to resting his head on the armchair behind him when Sapnap pipes up from the corner of the room.
“Dude, what are you, a pussy? All the rest of us have already played a round, it’s your turn. Why’d you want to hang with us tonight if you weren’t gonna actually do anything?”
“This is my dorm, Sap. You’re sitting on my bed.”
Sapnap looks down at the bed and back up at Dream, looking at him for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and laying back against the wall. “C’mon, Dream. There’s nothing else to do, and you can’t sleep in your nice, warm, cozy bed until I leave,” he laughs. Dream sighs.
“And you’ll leave if I play your dumbass game?”
“Not with that attitude, I won’t!”
Dream rolls his eyes, letting out an exaggerated breath. He doesn’t respond, opting to glare at Sapnap instead, hoping he’ll eventually give it up and he can finally get some rest. He’d barely slept for the past few days, and he was desperate for more than 3 hours of sleep.
But of course he wasn’t going to get that. Of course it could never be that easy.
“Truth, or dare,” Sapnap says, leaning forward slightly with a shit eating grin plastered across his face.
He wasn’t getting out of this.
“Dare.”
Sapnap’s grin grows even wider, and he sits up slightly as he makes a big show of tapping his finger on his chin and saying “hmmm” at loud intervals. As Sapnap’s smile grows bigger and bigger, Dream’s exasperation grows with it. He just wants to be done and go to sleep, and Sapnap was making that unnecessarily hard.
“Sapnap, come on, fucking spit it out! This is so stupid!”
“Okay, fine! I dare you... to go against George in a round of drunk Jenga. If you lose, you have to give him your mom’s number. If you win, he has to make breakfast every day for the next month.”
“Dude, that’s complete horseshit. I lose either way, George’s cooking sucks.”
Sapnap shrugs. “Take it or leave it, man. But if you leave it there’s a penalty.”
Dream takes it, knowing the “penalty” is undoubtedly being unable to sleep in his bed. But that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.
Dream sucks at Jenga, and he can feel the floor begin to sway beneath him as he continuously knocks the tower down and drinks more and more. He knows he’s going to lose no matter what, there are only two rounds left and his head feels like a rock, but there’s no way he’s going out without a fight.
“No, no, no, son of a bitch, I’m going to kill you, George! What the hell?”
George doubles over with uncontrollable giggles at the sight of Dream’s incredulous expression. Dream had been so close to actually winning a round, he had almost gotten the final block he needed without messing up, when George slid his arms around Dream and started tickling him.
“That was cheating! You fucking cheated, George, what the hell!” Dream lunges towards him and George shrieks, darting away and shaking his head.
“It doesn’t matter, Dream. You were gonna lose either way, at least I know how to make things interesting.”
“I’d hardly call cheating ‘making things interesting,'” Dream scowls. He leans over and snatches George’s phone from his hands, throwing one last glare at him before punching in George’s password and then his mom’s phone number. He throws the phone back at George, missing him and letting it bounce off the bed while he stands up, stretching his arms out and turning away from George and the bed that Sapnap and Karl are sitting on.
He ignores George’s whines about his phone and makes his way over to the minifridge tucked behind the couch. He reaches in to grab a water bottle, noticing the sudden silence from the other side of the room. He wants nothing more than to sit back down and close his eyes, relishing in the newfound peace, but he knows it won’t last. He lets out one last long breath before turning back to face his friends, and is surprised to see them huddled together on the bed, giggling like idiots and pointing at George’s phone.
Yeah, they definitely did something Dream was about to fucking hate.
Taking a long swig from the bottle of water, he flops down onto the bed next to them and cranes his neck to look at George’s phone, and he can’t say he’s surprised when he sees them actually putting his mom’s number to use. He’s about to laugh it off and get back up, maybe try to finally kick them all out since it was nearing two in the morning, when he does a double take and stares at the screen with an incredulous look on his face.
“George?”
No response.
He leans over, flicking his friend on the shoulder in an attempt to gain his attention back. “George, what the hell is that tex-”
He’s cut short by Sapnap slapping down the hand that he had raised to grab the phone, who then pushes him over onto the floor and turns back, snickering, to George and Karl without a second glance. Dream pushes himself up and stumbles over to the desk in the far corner of the room, grumbling and laying his head down on the surface of the desk after crossing his legs on the chair and pulling them close.
If there was one good thing about his friends acting like a bunch of middle schoolers, it was that he could finally get his long-awaited good night’s sleep, and his mumbles about unfairness and betrayal cease as he passes out cold the second his head hits his arms.
---
“I’m not angry, George. Just disappointed.”
Dream tries to fight the grin off his face as he gently turns back and forth in his chair, eyes sliding over the soft glow of rainbow light that his keyboard and monitors cast over his desk and legs. He spins around to look at George as he speaks to see him sitting on the floor, rolling his eyes and leaning against the foot of the bed behind him.
“Oh, come on, Dream,” he says with a light scoff. “It was a joke. I was joking.”
Dream looks away and feigns ignorance, fixing his gaze on a particularly interesting spot of drywall about 4 feet away instead. When he remains unresponsive, George shifts slightly in his spot and clears his throat softly.
“So, um... you aren’t actually mad at me for this?” he says, phrasing it as a question rather than a definite statement. “Because I can text her right now and tell her I was just joking, we were drunk and having fun, I wasn’t trying to upset yo-”
Dream cuts him off, finally swivelling his chair back in George’s direction when he decides he’s tormented him enough. He sighs dramatically. “No, it’s fine, George. I really don’t mind, I’m not mad at you.” He lets a slight grin creep across his face, trying to hold back the bubbling laughter he knows will inevitably force its way out of his mouth.
George drops his expression of concern immediately. “So I can tell her to expect me home for Christmas this year?” he deadpans, leaning back onto his hands and looking Dream dead in the eyes.
Of course George saw through Dream’s bullshit. He’d known him for years, messing with George had become increasingly difficult. Of course.
Dream can feel George watching him as he splutters for a moment, feeling a warm light creep its way up his neck and onto his face. He tries (and fails, miserably) to quickly replace the look on his face with a look of indignity as he sits up straighter in his chair. “George, just because you told my mother we’re dating doesn’t mean we actually are,” he says with a scowl. What he feels is a very obviously forced scowl, but a scowl nonetheless.
He’d say he’s doing pretty well at maintaining his composure.
George snickers. “Technically this is your fault. You’d be fine right now if you weren’t complete shit at Jenga. It’s your fault I got your mum’s number in the first place.”
“Yeah, but I gave you her number as a joke, George. On a dare? You’re the one who decided it was a good idea to tell her you were my boyfriend.”
“I’m just surprised she believed me. I mean, she welcomed me to the family and then said something about apple and pear soup for dinner? You can’t blame me, I thought she was joking until she called us, I didn’t really know how to deny it at that point.”
Dream shakes his head. He’s quiet for a moment, carefully calculating his next move. As much as he loves to mess with George, he didn’t feel like risking his dignity to do so was anywhere remotely close to being worth it. Before he’s able to tell George to grow up and tell his poor mother that he doesn’t actually have a boyfriend, he opens his mouth and beats him to it.
“Dream, do you want to make a bet?”
The smug look on George’s face and the cocky undertones in his voice were enough to tell Dream that no, he definitely did not want to make a bet, but George was looking up at him and he was smiling and he still looked half asleep and fuck. How could he say no?
He let out a long breath before speaking, smiling softly at George. “Sure, why not. What’s the bet?”
“I bet you a month’s worth of compsci homework and a muffin that you can’t make it through all two weeks of winter break without screwing up and telling your mum the truth.”
“What?" he bursts out, taking a second to comprehend what George just said. "No way, I have to go home for winter break, you’re so stupid.”
“Yeah, but you’re going to do it anyway.”
That's probably the stupidest thing Dream had ever heard come out of George’s mouth, and that was saying a lot. George came up with stupid ideas all the time, always voicing them to Dream and never failing to rope him into them. He’d have hoped that this wouldn’t be one of those times, but saying no to his best friend had proven to be an unnecessarily hard thing to do.
So, of course, Dream finds himself looking George dead in the face yet again, holding his hand out to shake on it.
“Deal,” he grumbles, but he can feel the grin tugging on his face, and he knows George can see it too. Pulling his hand away just before George reaches to grab it, he tilts his head, sticking his tongue between his teeth. “But, only if it’s a chocolate chip muffin.”
George rolls his eyes, but the goofy smile is still on his face as he reluctantly pushes himself up and reaches down to grab his backpack. “Alright, Dream. A chocolate chip muffin. You’re such an idiot.”
He reaches for the doorknob, wincing at the bright fluorescent lights in the hallway before stepping out with a smile and a small wave and heading off to his class, leaving Dream to wallow in immediate regret.
---
“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!”
George groans, slowly stirring and lifting a hand up to rub his eyes. He sits up, scowling at Dream, who’d tugged his blankets off and moved to stand in the doorway.
“You’re so stupid, be quieter, what time even is it,” he mumbles, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and stumbling as he slowly stands.
Dream smiles. He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, ignoring George’s question. “George, you’re the one who came up with this dumbass fake dating idea in the first place. You want to be stuck doing my homework for a month? Be my guest.”
George shoots him a look, but goes about getting ready nonetheless, grumbling as he makes his way to the closet and grasps for the first shirt he sees.
Dream jolts as Sapnap barrels into his shoulder as he fails to dodge around him to grab his bag and head back downstairs.
“Guys, it’s 6:47, get your asses in the car. God, it’s like I’m the only one who cares about this trip,” Sapnap half-jokes from halfway down the stairwell, earning a few annoyed hushes from other tired students on his way down.
Shaking his head, Dream grabs George’s arm when he sees George moving to search for food in the minifridge, dragging him out the door and ignoring his whining protests as he struggles to shoulder both of their bags and scoop up their pillows.
“George, we’re already late, we can just get food from Sonic on the way, I promise, and you can sleep in the car, but we have to go now if we wanna make it there on time.”
---
“Dream, get off me, what are you doing, you’re crushing my legs-”
Dream scoffs. He’s been reaching over George’s lap and struggling to single-handedly unzip his duffle bag for what feels like an hour (it’s actually been three minutes, and he’s painfully aware of that), and he’s about had enough. They’ve been driving for over two hours and he just wants to snuggle up with his hoodie and pillow and go the hell to sleep. Unfortunately, just like everything else in his life, it’s proving to be unnecessarily hard.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, George, is this inconveniencing you?” he asks, and he hopes the sarcasm is as evident in his tired voice as he’s trying to make it. “You know, this sure would go a lot faster if you would just reach down and unzip the goddamn bag for me.”
Sapnap sighs from the front seat. He adjusts the mirror to look at Dream and George and shakes his head, glancing back and forth between his friends and the road.
“Can’t you two get along for five minutes? George, just help him out, man. He’s driving next and I don’t want to put my life in the hands of a cranky sleep deprived Florida man,” he scolds, and although he’s joking, neither Dream or George protest. Dream isn’t exactly known to be the greatest driver, and he doesn’t quite trust himself behind the wheel in this state, either.
George swats Dream’s hand away and unzips his bag, pulling out an old (and honestly foul-smelling) football hoodie. He tosses it across the seat at Dream without looking, not bothering to replace the stray socks that had come out with it before yanking the zipper back into place.
Dream picks the hoodie up gratefully and tugs it over his head. He considers thanking George but the other man is already curling back into himself on the other side of the car, out cold, and he knows he’ll be screwed if he’s the cause of George being woken up.
Sighing, he readjusts his blanket and repositions the pillow behind his head, careful to avoid letting his legs brush George’s when he stretches out across the seat and tries to settle in for a nap.