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They’re three hours in and this is the fourth time Quackity has led the entire bus in a chorus of “Where are the Askers.” Dream is really, really getting sick of it. Unfortunately, he’s only the section leader for the tenor saxophones, so there’s nothing he can do. He could bother one of their two drum majors into doing something, but unfortunately, said drum major is currently in the middle of a very intense round of Mario Kart 8 on Sapnap’s Nintendo Switch.
George and Sapnap are both screaming at each other, their pitch nearly drowning out the entire trumpet section screaming at the top of their lungs. Quackity is the only one sitting in the row in front of Dream, who’s in the very last row, meaning he has the perfect vantage point to stand up and conduct them.
Three hours in, seven to go. The SMP High School Marching Band is on their way to their latest competition. Dream loves band- he does not love the ten-hour bus rides. It’s nine in the morning and he was up until three the night before on a Discord call with his friends, a choice he’s severely regretting now with Quackity’s singing piercing through his skull.
“Can you make him shut up?” Dream mutters to Karl, who’s currently situated next to him. George is occupying his seat in the row across from them, a fact that Karl seems slightly put-off by. Dream’s already teased him into oblivion about his crush on Sapnap, so that bit has gotten old. And so has the where are the askers bit.
Thankfully, the other drum major comes to his rescue- Wilbur stands up at the front of the bus and hollers back at them to shut the hell up. Quackity cuts the trumpets off and turns around to face Dream and Karl.
“How’d you like that?” he asks, one eyebrow raised. Karl lunges forward to try and steal his beanie, and Quackity starts cursing him out rapid-fire. At the same time, George’s voice fills the immediate area. It’s melodic, beautiful, Dream’s favorite sound-
“Fucking fuck !” George cries, slamming the controller for the switch down. “You win again, dickass.”
“Suck on deez, George.”
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response. Karl, give me my seat back.”
Dream shifts his legs into the aisle so Karl can slide past, but puts them back so that George has to clamber over his lap. It’s mean, but George ends up keeping his legs crossed over Dream’s thighs, feet sticking out into the aisle, and God, Dream’s whipped.
It’s not like he doesn’t know it. He’s been practically in love with George since freshman year, when he first transferred to their school along with a slew of other British kids whose parents all moved to the area for the opening of a new corporate office. They’ve been in band together that whole time, quickly forming their tight-knit group that they jokingly refer to as ‘the feral boys.’
During the regular school year, Dream and Techno fight over everything in the saxophone section: first chair, section leader, solos, who gets to switch to the baritone or soprano sax for certain pieces. During marching band, however, Dream is the head of the tenor saxes, while Techno takes the altos.
Sapnap is percussion year-round, on the tenors for marching band. He’s drum captain this year, a fact he rubs in all of their faces plenty, because he’s technically higher-up than them. This usually results in George sending him a strong look- even though George is the first-chair clarinet in the ensemble, in marching band he’s been one of their drum majors for two years running.
Quackity just switches between brass instruments- their freshman year he was a trumpet player, sophomore he played trombone, he tried tuba for half of junior year before switching back to trumpet, and now he’s on trombone again. Somehow, he’s made it to section leader, a fact that Dream thinks is ridiculous. Karl, meanwhile, is section leader by default- he’s the only french horn in the ensemble, and the only sousaphone in the marching band.
Now, they’re halfway through their final marching season; they’re seniors, on top of the school, total nerds and somehow still vaguely popular. The sadness of it being their final season hasn’t set in yet, which Dream really prefers.
He’s snapped back into reality by Quackity’s deep lungful of air, indicating another round of the song, and Sapnap practically diving across the aisle to tackle him down. Their director, Mr. Philza Minecraft (he won’t tell them his last name and they can’t find it in the school records. Wilbur, his adopted son, gives them a different answer every time), gives them a disapproving look.
“Quackity, shut the hell up,” George orders as he swings his legs off of Dream’s lap. “Why did I stay up so late with you guys? I’m exhausted.”
“You’re always exhausted, George,” Karl snorts as he pulls Sapnap off of Quackity and back into his seat. Karl keeps his arms wrapped around Sapnap’s shoulders, and the percussionist looks back with a love-struck expression.
“Simp,” George mutters under his breath, drawing-out the word, and Dream wheezes.
“Are you a fermata?” Karl asks Sapnap, oblivious to their teasing. “Because I’d like to hold you.”
“Oh my God,” Sapnap mutters, face red. Dream, George, and Quackity boo at them. “Is that a drumstick in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”
Karl turns bright red, reaches under Sapnap’s back, and pulls out an actual drumstick.
“It’s a drumstick,” he answers. “One of yours, actually. Your stick bag was on my seat.”
The three howl with laughter. Sapnap’s face gets even redder, but he’s still staring at Karl in awe. Dream turns to George to see a smug expression on his face.
“They’ll be together by the end of the trip,” George mutters, and Dream laughs.
Two hours later, they’re coming to a stop for lunch. George is completely passed out, his head on Dream’s shoulder. He doesn’t wake up when the bus stops. Karl and Sapnap pay no attention to them, completely wrapped up in each other, but Quackity stops and gives Dream a knowing look.
“Wake him up,” the trombone player says.
“No,” Dream replies, giving him an incredulous look.
“Okay, simp,” Quackity retorts. “When are you going to ask him out?”
“Never,” Dream yelps, his face going red. “We’re just friends-”
“You’re in love with him, dude, you told me last week at Fundy’s party when you were puking your guts up in the bushes. And he’s been pining after you for ages. Ask him out.”
With that, Quackity slides out of his row and off the bus. Dream sighs. He’s probably right, but-
George jerks up with a snort, glancing around wildly.
“Oh,” he says. “Hey. Did we stop?”
“Yep. Lunch time,” Dream answers. He stands up and holds out a hand to George, who takes it. And then doesn’t let go as they make their way off of the bus and into the fast-food restaurant.
He doesn’t let go until they’ve both gotten their food and several looks from everyone in the band, including Phil. Their group is the last in the restaurant when everyone is done eating, and George’s phone buzzes while they’re all throwing balled-up straw wrappers at each other. It’s a text from Wilbur, telling them to get on the bus or be abandoned five hours from home.
They clean up their mess and get back on the bus, the rest of the band cheering and their group playing it up. As they sit back down, Sapnap shows them a picture he took of George asleep on Dream’s shoulder and Dream looking down like a lost puppy.
“Jesus,” George mutters, face bright red. “Delete that, Sap, that’s a drum major order.” Dream doesn’t say anything, but George has pressed himself against Dream’s entire side to see the picture, and he isn’t going back to his own seat. Sapnap, Karl, and Quackity are all staring at them. Quackity is giving him that look again.
“Okay,” Dream says, shoving George over. George mutters his complaint, and Dream draws a line in the air. “This is where the line is. Neither of us will cross it.”
“Yes,” George agrees, bright red. “Neither of us will cross the line.”
They both pass out about an hour later. When Dream wakes up, George’s head is resting on his shoulder. Dream’s head is resting on top of George’s at a very uncomfortable angle. Quackity is peering back at them from the crack between his two seats. He smirks when he sees that Dream’s awake and holds up his phone.
It’s his camera roll, with about fifty pictures of Dream and George sleeping on top of each other. “Creep,” Dream mutters, picking his head up. His neck protests greatly, and George mutters something unintelligible.
“Wake up, lovers!” Quackity yells, loud enough that the entire bus startles. “We’re almost there!” Looking around without shifting George off his shoulder, Dream sees that at least half of the bus is also asleep. Sapnap is leaning against the window watching the trees whizz by, Karl’s head in his lap. He grins at Dream and gestures to George. Dream flips him off.
Quackity’s yelling wakes George up, and he carefully pulls away from Dream and shifts over to the window. Dream glances over out of the corner of his eye- George’s eyes are closed.
“Hey,” Dream says, nudging him gently. “Wake up.”
“No,” George mutters.
“We have practice on the competition field in an hour,” Dream tells him. “Don’t want you falling off the drum major platform.”
“Let me fall,” George replies. “You’ll catch me.” He stretches and his shirt rides up, and Dream hurriedly looks away. George has tugged it back down when he glances back over, giving him a sheepish grin. “Fine, I’m awake. Someone get Karl up.”
“Don’t you dare,” Sapnap practically growls, much to their amusement. “If any of you wake him up, I’ll shove my sticks so far up my ass you’ll get splinters in your teeth.”
“Jesus,” Quackity mutters, his tone teasing. “Warn a guy before saying things like that, my God.”
Sapnap and Dream boo. George, rolling his eyes, climbs over Dream’s lap and makes his way to the front of the bus. Dream watches him talk to Wilbur and tries to keep the longing expression off of his face. Quackity picks up on it anyways.
“Just go for it, Dream, I’m telling you,” he says insistently. “You guys flirt, like, all the time.”
“We do not!” Dream protests.
“You totally do,” Sapnap retorts. “At least Karl and I have the balls to admit we like each other.”
“You’re literally not dating,” Dream points out.
“Yeah, but we both admit we like each other.”
“Not to each other!” Quackity cries. “All of you are so dumb !”
“How’s this,” Dream says. “You wake Karl up and ask him out right now, and I’ll ask George out by the end of the trip.”
“Done and done,” Sapnap says eagerly. He shakes Karl gently, and the boy groans and throws an arm over his eyes. “Hey, baby.”
“Let me sleep,” Karl moans, rolling over to face away from Sapnap. Dream and Quackity lean in to listen eagerly as Sapnap presses a kiss to the side of Karl’s neck.
“Our drill set won’t be the only thing leaving you out of breath this weekend,” he murmurs.
“You’re the worst,” Quackity immediately says, throwing his arms up in the air. Karl blinks one eye open lazily and glances up at Sapnap.
“You must be my drums, cause I wanna bang you all night,” he continues.
“Are you asking me out with band-related sex puns?” Karl asks.
“Maybe. Is it working?”
“Not at all. Will you stop if I say yes?”
“Also a maybe.”
“You’re a dork.”
“I’m your dork.”
Quackity gags loudly. George, making his way back to them, stops in the aisle.
“What did I miss?” he asks, glancing between the four of them.
“Sapnap and Karl just got together,” Dream informs him.
“And I missed it?! What the hell, you guys!” He plops himself back onto Dream’s lap. Sapnap gives them a smug look. “We’re gonna be there in ten. Practice is four to six, then dinner, then hotel. Warm-ups, full run through, sectionals, second run-through. Sound good to everyone?”
“Are there going to be other bands there?” Sapnap asks. “I wanna get the drumline together to show off.”
“There’ll probably be people leaving, but Phil’s explicitly told us not to show off until the competition. So, I’m vetoing that.”
“Damn.”
Their practice goes perfectly- even though Phil instructs them before they start to not show off, most of them can’t help it. They practiced for twelve hours a day all summer- of course they’re going to be good, Dream thinks. He laughs on the sidelines as Quackity conducts the brass section in a loud rendition of Seven Nation Army, and Sapnap steals a freshman’s cymbals so he can slam them together for the chorus.
They do a few more pep tunes, the whole band getting in on it in a giant circle to hype each other up. George and Wilbur, both cackling, are shoved into the middle of the circle to conduct them, both jumping and screaming, and it’s just another reminder of why Dream loves band so much.
They get fast food again for dinner, the band taking up the entire seating area, all of them screaming at each other. Dream slips the tired-looking cashier a twenty-dollar bill as a sort of apology.
Their hotel is only a twenty-minute ride away from the competition field, but they’re on the bus for nearly half an hour while Phil and their other supervisors work out rooming arrangements. Then they all pile off the bus, grabbing instruments from underneath, all of them complaining about the weight just for the hell of it. Phil, handing out room keys, looks exhausted.
“You five!” he shouts at their group. All five of them freeze. “Why the hell did you each put one of the others as roommate preference? It’s just a giant circle!”
“You should be used to this by now, Phil,” Dream says with a grin. “Come on, there’s gotta be a double room on the list somewhere, right?”
“No,” Phil says. “That’s the whole point of roommate preference, so we don’t have to get double rooms- Jesus, you guys. You get two rooms between the five of you. Take your pick. Here are the keys.”
He hands George five keys and gives him a look that says I thought you’d be better than this, and all five of them burst into laughter.
“Okay, Quackity, take your pick,” Sapnap says loudly. “Who are you third-wheeling?”
“What?” George sputters.
“Oh, you guys, definitely,” Quackity says. “Maybe Dream and George will work something out.”
He sends a wink their way. They both go bright red.
There’s one bed in the room, and luckily, they’ve got a connecting door to the others. All five of them pile on the bed in Dream and George’s room until the early hours of the morning, when Phil pounds on their door and yells at them to go to bed. Locking the conjoining door, Dream turns back to George sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed.
They’ve shared a bed before. It isn’t weird. It’s just literally sleeping with the homies, nothing weird. Sure, normally they wake up and they’re cuddling, but that also isn’t weird. Cuddling with the homies is perfectly normal. Fuck toxic masculinity, and all that.
“You like the left side, right?” George asks, and Dream nods. “Okay.” He shifts so he’s on the right side of the bed and settles in. “Want to set up a little line? Like on the bus?”
“Yeah,” Dream says, swallowing dryly. “Sure.”
They make a pillow barricade. When they wake up, the pillows are on the ground, and George has one arm thrown over Dream’s chest and one leg entwined with his. The alarm goes off two minutes after Dream wakes up, and they both throw themselves across the room.
They don’t talk for the entirety of breakfast, letting Quackity’s loud chatter fill the table, and they don’t talk on the bus ride over. When they get to the competition field and throw their uniforms on quickly, George tentatively taps on Dream’s shoulder.
“Choke me?” he asks, gesturing to the top of his uniform.
The act of doing someone’s choker for them is sacred in the SMPHS band- most of the time they fight over mirrors and do it themselves, and asking someone to do your choke for you is saying you trust them to have your back. Most of the time, George and Wilbur do each other’s, as a sign of drum major camaraderie. Dream usually gets Sapnap to do his. And now- now Wilbur is looking at Dream from across the room with a look that says do it, so Dream reaches out and clips the choker together.
They’re so close to each other. Dream’s hands brush against the bottom of George’s chin, and it’s electrifying. George smiles when he’s done and gestures toward Dream’s choker. Dream nods. He reaches out and carefully does it up, then pulls back.
Marching band uniforms are, to the rest of the world, not that attractive. To the kids in the band, however, the uniforms make them feel hot, in both senses of the word. Today is no different- George’s uniform is a different color from the rest of the band’s, and he has a cape carefully buttoned to one shoulder, and he looks attractive. He’s got his sleeves rolled up and his white gloves carefully tucked under one arm.
“You’re staring,” George tells him. His eyes glance down, barely, barely-
“I know,” Dream breathes out. They’re impossibly close to each other- and they’re also in a room with the entire band. Now isn’t the time. “Good luck, Georgie.”
“You too, Dream. You’re going to kill your solo.” Dream grins and watches as George makes his way over to Wilbur. Someone throws their arm around Dream’s shoulder- he glances over to see Quackity, beanie replaced by his hat, feathered plume already carefully in place.
“So,” he says. “What did you two get up to last night that has George asking you to choke him?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Shut the hell up,” Dream groans, and Quackity bursts into laughter.
Their performance goes spectacularly. Sapnap leads them as they march on to the field, the pounding of the tenors matching the beating of Dream’s heart. They put on an incredible show- at the helm, George and Wilbur are stoic throughout, conducting them perfectly in time with each other, their hands falling and rising in unison. This is everything they’ve practiced for, for so long, all of it coming to fruition as they put their act together.
Dream’s solo does go incredible, and the rush of adrenaline doesn’t leave as they play out the resounding final note of their last song. The hands of the drum majors fall, the last note plays out, and the stadium erupts into applause. They hold their attention, and Sapnap plays them off the field. On the sidelines, while the next band gets set up, their drumline shows off for a bit before George yells out, “SEVEN NATION!”
They play as loudly as they can, the rest of the bands watching them with something akin to jealousy. When it’s done and they’re back in the changing room, their little group of five slams together in a giant group hug.
They win. Of course they win, because, as Phil tearfully tells them over a congratulatory dinner at an actually-nice restaurant, this is the best band SMPHS has had in years.
They’ve got one more night at the hotel before they drive back another ten hours in time to make it to school on Monday. After another night of staying up together and another night of being told off by Phil, Sapnap, Karl, and Quackity head back to their room, leaving Dream and George.
They don’t put up the pillow barricade. Ten minutes after they turn out the lights, George shifts so his head is resting on Dream’s shoulder, one arm across his chest again.
“This okay?” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” Dream says, mouth dry. He wraps both arms around George carefully and echoes the question back to him.
“Yeah,” George agrees, settling in further against Dream’s side. “It’s perfect.”
They leave at six the next morning, bringing boxes of the continental breakfast on the bus with them, all of them too tired to be very loud- or at least, all except for Sapnap and Karl, who are muttering pick-up lines at each other as they wait to put their instruments below the bus.
“Your calves must be sore, because you’ve been marching through my mind all day long,” Sapnap says.
“You did that one already,” Karl tells him. “Oh, what the honk- You can put your lips on my mouthpiece any day.”
“I C Major potential in that happening,” Sapnap says, leaning forward. Quackity shoves his way between the two of them before anything can happen. “Speaking of, Dream-”
“What,” Dream asks flatly. He’s got his sax case in one hand and George’s hand gripping the other. George has his head on Dream’s shoulder and his eyes closed. Sapnap gestures between the two of them. Karl giggles- clearly he’s been told of the deal. “Later,” Dream mouths, and Sapnap nods.
George sleeps on Dream’s shoulder for the entire first half of the bus ride. When he wakes up, he yawns, stretches, and then puts his head back down.
“Hey,” Dream says, elbowing. “I was very clear with where the line was.”
“So was I, but you still misstepped during the performance yesterday,” George mutters without missing a beat. Quackity, who is clearly eavesdropping, applauds. Dream flips him off. “No, if you want me to get up, I will-”
“No,” Dream says quickly, almost too quickly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to go anywhere.”
George sits up anyways, looking at him seriously. “I didn’t mean it. About misstepping. It was the circle part, I know it’s difficult-”
“You know what?” Dream asks. “Falling out of love with you would be as hard as marching backward in circles.”
“Oh my God,” George says immediately. “Dream-”
“Do you believe in love at first set, or should we run it again?”
“Dream!”
“Just call me Legato, cause I’m so smooth.”
“You definitely are not, Dream, what are you doing-”
Dream leans forward, reaching out to grab George’s waist. George leans into the touch, resting their foreheads against each other. And even though they’re still in the seats on the back of a bus full of band nerds at eleven in the morning, it’s decidedly romantic.
“You marched your way into my heart, baby,” Dream says, and George laughs, breaking the moment. They stay pressed against each other. “Will you go out with me?”
“Oh my God, Dream,” George says. “Yes, you absolute idiot. Took you long enough.”
“Took me long enough?”
Quackity records the whole thing. He gets the entire bus to cheer for them, too, and even Phil joins in (albeit reluctantly). And when they make it back to the school, five hours later, ready to drive home after a very long weekend, after they get off the bus George drags Dream into a quick kiss.
“You had me at cello ,” he says quickly, and Dream laughs before leaning in again.