Chapter Text
Dream's start to the day was pretty shit, to say the least.
As he tumbled clumsily out of his bed, he caught a quick glance at the numbers displayed on his alarm clock, and he groaned.
A flickering 12:00 taunted him in bright red.
Apparently, as he later found out from his kind floor neighbours, the power in the apartment had gone out sometime last night, and was currently being fixed. Unfortunately, Dream was already asleep when the power went out, meaning he hadn't been able to reset his morning alarm.
To say Dream was pissed was an understatement.
His mind was scattered as he went through his morning routine in 6 minutes. This included having a shower, ironing his suit (because of course he didn't do it yesterday afternoon), getting changed and chomping on bland buttered toast.
He even chose the stairs, the dirty, unused, forgotten stairs that no one dares to use, as his form of transport to get to the bottom floor (he even skipped some steps, opting to instead jump his way down), before dashing out the apartments opening doors to the Starbucks down the road.
Dream practically sprinted past the New York crowd, occasionally bumping into people, but having barely any time to apologise.
The blonde slowed down from a run to a jog to a not-so suspicious speed walk as he pushed the door to the local Starbucks open. As he entered, he faintly registered a soft chime of a bell as he walked in, but instead trying to focus on looking for a particular brown haired man, when a voice called out.
"Hey Dream!"
Looking towards the counter, he spotted exactly who he needed to find: a man dressed in the iconic green apron with short brown hair and somewhat rectangular glasses.
Hearing his name, Dream looked towards the sound and smiled warmly as he approached the front of the long line of customers, which all grumbled when they saw Dream cut ahead of them.
Smiling brightly at the counter was Darryl, or Bad as he prefered, holding a tray with two large coffee cups in the designated holes.
"God Bad, you're such a lifesaver," he said as he grabbed the tray, his eyes catching Bad's writing on the side of one of the cups.
Bad noticed, "Oh, that's just something I'd like for you to pass to Skep, I know you usually forget whatever I say," he said teasingly.
Dream flashed an embarrassed smile, "You know me too well. Anyways, gotta dash, thanks again for this! Remind me to repay you!" He yelled as he exited through the doors, Bad waving excitedly before turning to the neglected line of annoyed customers.
"Sorry to keep you all waiting, what can I get for you?"
✰
Gripping the newly attained drinks tightly, he opened the front doors to the building (with slight struggle, he waited somewhat patiently for someone to assist him) and walked into an open elevator, narrowly making it in time before it closed.
Everyone inside gave him sad looks, but he merely ignored it. He was used to these looks by now.
The elevator let out a loud ding! as the doors opened up, and he walked out to the floors' doors.
"Cutting it close, Dream," stated the receptionist, tapping her watch to show a flashing 07:58. He merely chuckled back, "Just one of those mornings,"
She shook her head as he gave her a small smile, before slapping straight into a figure, coffee spilling all over him and the figure.
"Fucking, really?!" He nearly shouted as the worker said a measly sorry 'bout that before they disappeared, probably to the bathroom. But Dream didn't care about that, his main concern was that he was holding an empty coffee cup, with it splattered all over his white shirt.
Christ, this'll be a fun clean, he thought sarcastically before heading straight to Skeppy's desk.
He made his presence known as he slammed his hands down, startling the brown haired male as he dropped his phone on his desk.
Skeppy looked up for a second before a sly grin broke out onto his face, "Dude, really? It's only Monday—"
"I'll pay for yours and Bad's next date. I'm already in debt for him this morning so," he nervously glanced up at the door to the office, "you've got five seconds to decide; five, four, three, two, one."
Skeppy looked unamused, but nonetheless started to take his shirt off. Dream let out a grin, knowing he'd won.
✰
What kind of cologne does this weirdo use? Dream thought as he stepped out of the bathroom and quickly grabbed the other coffee cup, his coffee, and made his way to the office.
Once inside, he felt himself finally relax for the first time that morning. He pulled out his tie and as he pulled it around his neck, he could hear the office chatter drop quickly, signalling that he was finally here.
The door to the office slid open silently, but Dream felt himself get hit with icy wind as the shorter man stepped in, critically observing his surroundings. Once satisfied (probably seeing if Dream had touched anything), he stepped towards Dream and held out his hand expectedly.
"G'morning boss! You've got a conference call in 30 minutes and a staff meeting at 9," Dream mustered up as much confidence as he could as he handed George his coffee cup.
"Yes, I know already." Was all he got in reply. Dream huffed quietly to himself and decided to try and elevate his boss's mood.
Just a simple compliment will do, don't say anything weird, "Looking slick today, boss,"
What the fuck was that?! George looked up from his desk, and for a second Dream caught his confused face, before the deadpan look returned, "If I wanted a compliment, I would've asked for one. And what was that anyway? You say that to everyone?" George merely scoffed and took a sip of the coffee.
Dream, for once, was grateful for George as he skimmed over Dream's awkward comment, "Have you called… who's the guy with the long pink hair and a pig-face…"
The blonde tried his absolute hardest to not laugh at his boss's comment on his workmate, "You mean Techno, or Technoblade?"
The brunette looked at him in confusion, prodding him to explain, "Dave."
"Oh yes! That one, have you? Since you probably haven't, please explain to him on my behalf why we don't allow dyed hair in a professional workplace. And what's with the nicknames?"
Dream only shrugged and pulled out a pad to write down what George had said, even if he knew he wouldn't talk to Techno about anything, mainly since he was a fan of Techno's hair colour, though he'd never admit that out loud.
Another thought came to the blonde, "Also, your immigration lawyer called and—"
"Keep the lawyer on the sheets," Is all George responded with, turning around on his chair and pushing off to another desk behind him, coffee in hand.
The taller bit his tongue, knowing if he didn't, some regrettable things would be said.
Instead, he opted for a forced will do, stuffing his notepad and pen into his folder and hurrying out the door. But, George's voice cut in before he could leave.
"Dream, who is Skeppy? And better yet, who the hell calls themselves Bad?"
Fuck.
Slowly, almost comedically, the blonde turned to see George holding his gaze, eyebrow raised as he showed off the side of the coffee cup with Bad's scribbled writing to Skeppy.
Sighing, he explained himself, "Well, that was originally my cup."
"And I'm drinking your coffee because..?"
"Your coffee spilt."
An awkward silence overcame the two as George hummed and took a larger sip than before, then faced Dream again, "So, you're telling me that we both have the same, specific coffee order from Starbucks? You're going to tell me this is a coincidence?"
Dream could only nod as he mindlessly fiddles with his fingers, praying to the Lord for an escape.
Fuck my life, "It really is an incredible coincidence. I mean, I wouldn't possibly drink the same coffee as you so that if yours was to ever spill. That would be utterly pathetic—hello, this is Mr Tate's office,"
Holy fucking shit, I'm so stupid. Thank the Lord that he didn't let me continue onto death's door.
Dream didn't catch the slight smirk that made its way into George's face as he muttered that would be pathetic, before he turned back to his computer, sipping on his coffee.
"Oh, hey Tommy," Dream spoke, relieved that he had an excuse to leave, but saw in the corner of his eye that George waved his hand, signalling he would be on his way.
Hiding his shock, Dream continued, "Actually, we'll be on our way in a moment. I'd recommend cleaning up. Yep, bye." Once he placed the phone back down, he turned back to the shorter, "Why are we going to Tommy's office?"
However, George didn't respond, instead tidying up his workspace and picking himself out of his wheely chair. Scoffing, Dream pushed the door open for the two of them as they made their way down to Tommy's office.
As they slowly made their way to the office, the blonde cringed as everyone noticeably jumped from their lazed positions to their computers. The quiet chatter came to a swift close, and the only noise was the sound of rapid fingers hitting buttons.
George sighed loudly beside him, "God, how much of an idiot does everyone think I am? They're all lazy bitches," Dream supposed he wasn't meant to hear the last sentence, so he ignored the urge to ask to elaborate.
"Do you know who Tommy is, boss?"
"What, you think I'm stupid too, huh? And yes, I do. That idiotic blonde who can't shut the fuck up and always spilling his coke over important documents. And he's always off chatting to other co-workers. Way too loud for a work environment, if you ask me. Don't even know why he got a private office."
"Seems like you've got a lot to say about him."
George only hummed in agreement, now checking his watch and typing something. Dream's focus shifted to Skeppy, who was walking up to the pair, seemingly forgetting he was wearing Dream's stained buttoned shirt.
The brunette caught the blondes not-so subtle hand movements, and his eyes caught Skeppy's gaze, who immediately cowered and walked back the way he came.
"Hm, I'm still convinced you buy the same coffee as me in case you spill it, which makes you quite pathetic,"
"I'd say it's quite impressive—"
"I'd be impressed if you managed not to spill it in the first place," finally, the pair had made it to the glass door if Tommy's office, "remember, you are just a prop in here. Irrelevant."
Dream sighed, mumbling a quiet won't say a word as he opens the door and shuts it quietly behind him.