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“Singles option, take the singles option!” Dream pesters from the call, voice tired yet insistent.
George rolls his eyes, knowing Dream couldn’t see him, “I am, Dream. Calm down.”
“It took an hour to convince you to do this, okay?” Dream reasons, and if George didn’t know better, he might imagine Dream making those puppy dog eyes of his, bright and tempting and beautiful. (spoiler, he does not know better)
“Alright, gender. Male,” George clicks the option, narrating along to Dream, “Why are there only two options on this thing?”
“It's makers were probably close-minded assholes,” Dream offers, and George can hear the sound of his best friend’s tongue clicking as he waits for him to proceed to the next question.
“Age,” George pauses for a moment, making Dream break out in a laugh. George just huffs, used to him and his random bursts of laughter, and chooses the 18-25 bracket.
“Did you seriously,” The infamous wheeze demands a pause in the conversation, “just forget your,” Dream forces out, “age?”
“Shut up, I was thinking.”
“Don’t do that too much, wouldn’t wanna send your brain into overuse,” Dream muses, and George doesn’t want to think that if he were there, he’d ruffle his hair. (you guessed it, he does it anyway)
Not gratifying Dream’s taunt with a response, he goes on to choose his country and moves on to the next question. ‘Have you read The 5 Love Languages Singles Edition?’
“What even is that?” George asks, clicking on the ‘no’.
“Alright, the next question is,” George turns his head to his phone, before popping it back up to the open discord tab on his computer, “Wait, why can’t I just share my screen with you?”
“It's better this way, unless you want to, I mean…,” Dream falters, his mic catching up on the slight splutters.
“You can just say you like my voice, it's fine,” George teases, hoping he sounds casual. Flirty. And definitely not like he wants Dream to say yes so he feels less guilty about loving the blond’s voice.
“I- what?” Dream’s mic scuffles the end of his yell, and George can’t help but snicker and how taken aback he sounds, “Being bold today, aren’t you?”
George only hums, turning back to the question. “It's more meaningful to me when someone I love sends me a loving note for no reason, or I hug someone I love.”
Easy, he mutters inwardly and chooses the second option. “I chose the loving notes,” He bites his tongue, “that counts towards words of affirmation right?” If Dream noticed his hesitance, he says nothing.
“I’d think so, not a fan of hugs?”
I need to be there with you to hug you, George thinks, before realizing that this isn’t just for Dream. It was for general love language, the kind that holds for all platonic and romantic attractions, not just for a weird infatuation with your best friend.
“I’m not a touchy person,” He says, I can’t touch you 'cause you’re not here. He curses himself for choosing hugs over sweet nothings and curses even more for lying to Dream about his choice when he had no reason to.
He sees the next question - It's more meaningful to me when I can spend alone time with someone I love or they do something practical to help me out - and stops to think for a moment.
He thinks of hour-long discord calls and deep-drawn chuckles. He thinks of listening to heartbeats through the phone, counting them to go to sleep. He thinks of soft snores and heaving breaths, a calm reminder of someone’s presence. And then he thinks of silent offers to check his code when he’s frustrated over an error, of gentle ushering to bed when he’s been editing for too long, only to wake up and find that someone finished it for him, of ideas striking someone’s brain and quickly offered to him for a video and of a supporting voice that's there for him, always.
It's not just Dream he’s thinking about this time, George realizes, all his friends have done something along both the options - whether it be Sapnap and him alone on a VC, having their own karaoke parties before they help each other with thumbnails, or Quackity picking up his call at 1 am to talk to him because they had been too busy during the day and joining his streams whenever he could, or Karl inviting him to all his streams no matter who else was on it, not wanting to give up a chance to spend time with George.
It's hard, very hard to weigh one moment over the other, to forsake genuine advice for time spent together, but he does it anyway. ‘I can spend alone time with someone I love’ - He chooses, deciding that all those voice calls eventually end up helping him in a way, so it counts for both options.
“George?” Dream speaks through the computer, “Did you fall asleep on me?”
“No, I was just choosing another answer,” He replies and narrates the question and his choice to Dream.
Dream laughs, “I thought you’d choose practical help.”
“People change like the tides in the ocean Dream, you should know,” George smiles at the bubbling chuckles that reach him through the screen, sending a warm feeling through his chest. It's like his skin is shuddering with every second, but a jacket keeps getting placed on him. Placed, taken away, placed again, and then taken away. It's scary and it’s exciting. (And if he’s imagining the jacket to be a certain someone’s, then it's no one’s business but his own)
“Okay, another choice. Someone I love gives me a little gift, or I get to spend uninterrupted leisure time with them. Hm… Isn’t the second option just a repeat of the one in the previous question?”
“Yeah, are you gonna choose it again?”
As if on instinct, George’s head turns to the quartz elephant sitting on his desk, “I mean… 1.5 inches is a little gift, wouldn’t you say?”
George thinks he has no right to enjoy Dream’s speechless state so much, but he can’t restrain the laughter that’s begging to bubble out. He tries, and he tries, and he fails. “Stop laughing at me, idiot,” Dream’s voice is still wavering, “You are obsessed with that elephant.”
“It's a little gift, Dream,” George should not be enjoying it this much.
“So you’re saying you love me?” The confidence is back in Dream’s voice, and George immediately sighs.
“What do you mean?”
“It says someone I love gives me a little gift. Tell me, do you love me, Georgie?” Dream obnoxiously accentuates his name, stretching out the end far too much in a far too nasally pitch.
“I actually hate you, I’m choosing the second option.” He chooses the first. He bites down a smile.
“Alright, someone I love does something unexpected to help me with a project, or I share an innocent touch with them.”
“Innocent touch, how scandalous,” Dream gives his ever helpful, ever relevant input.
George thinks of what could be specified as innocent touching - brushing hands in passing, nudging shoulders in understanding, a knuckle grazing a cheekbone, lips ghosting over pale skin, sharing the same breath, the same bed- Wait, let's stop there. Innocent touch. Innocent. Definitely stopping there.
“Dream, can I ask you a question?” George says once he has made space for Jesus between his thoughts and active imagination.
“Yeah?”
“Can something be meaningful to you if you haven’t actually experienced it?”
Dream thinks for a moment, quiet intakes of breath matching with George’s heartbeat.”The thought of it can be,” He ultimately replies.
“How so?”
“It's simple, isn’t it? Take freedom, for example. All those people who ultimately won their fight for freedom from your colonizer of a country,” George snorts at his words, “They were all born in colonies, they hadn’t known freedom. It was still meaningful to them though, wasn’t it? Meaningful enough for them to put their lives on the line for it.”
“So thoughts have power.”
“Yes they do,” Dream agrees, “What are you answering?”
“Help with a project.”
He imagines brushing his hands through blonde strands, savoring the soft touch, tracing lines across dotted freckles, leaning against a tall body, intertwining fingers under the trouble, and then something else under the table that reminds him to stop. Innocent touch, George, put a lid on your imagination.
He clicks on sharing an innocent touch.
“Someone I love puts their arm around me in public,” His nose scrunches instinctively, “Or they surprise me with a gift.”
“I’m gonna hug you the moment I see you at the airport,” Dream is laughing, “They’ll have to physically remove me from your body.”
“That sounds… sus,” Sapnap adds, “And we all know I’m the first person George is hugging. He’s gonna walk into these arms and never leave them.”
“We could just have a group hug,” Bad offers, rat barking in the background.
“Right, knowing you, you’d include Rat in the hug too, and I’m not coming anywhere near that barking menace,” Sapnap’s voice is muffled, probably due to him switching devices, “George, don’t worry, you won’t have to touch these weirdos. I’ll be there.”
“Yeah, what are you gonna do? Fight off anyone who tries to come near George?” Dream chuckles, hand knocking against his desk as he too, shuts off his computer and switches to the phone.
“Yeah, you’ll be first to die. Then I’m gonna put my arm around him and keep it there.”
George decides to speak, knowing if they didn’t stop messing around, they wouldn’t get anything done. That, and he felt pity for Bad having to deal with three barking idiots. “I’m not letting any of you touch me.”
The memory is clear in his mind, and he doesn’t have to think twice before he chooses the first option.
“What’d you choose?”
“Oh, surprising with a gift,” It's getting easier to lie. George still doesn’t know why he’s doing it, why he’s embarrassed by his answers.
Or maybe he does, maybe it's because Dream wouldn’t expect him to choose hugs over help, touches over gifts and George doesn’t want to surprise him with his choices. Maybe its because if Dream knows what he’s choosing, he’ll get suspicious, he’ll notice how George feels, and maybe it’ll ruin what they’ve built over the years.
“Okay, this time it's being around someone I love even if we aren’t doing anything, or comfortable with holding hands, high-fiving, or putting my arm around them.” George really wants to talk to the maker of this quiz and give him a piece of his mind. Fucking intrusive options.
In the maker’s defense though, you probably aren’t supposed to take the quiz with someone watching you, especially if it's a person you’re internally pining for. But Dream’s an idiot and sees it fit for him to be there since thousands were there when he took it himself. Fucking green over-sharer. (Georges mutters that nickname with adoration, and it annoyes him)
“So, wasting time or physical touch, I’d say this one’s pretty easy. Doing nothing is your favorite pastime.”
“No its no-”
“You still haven’t started editing your video, don’t even try to defend yourself.”
“I literally just came back today!” George defends himself anyway, and it's valid. He was off “feeding ducks and trying to feel young between teenagers”, as Sapnap had so eloquently put it earlier that day, before very generously telling George that he was, again, in Sapnap’s words, “an old man who should be vlogging his way to the retirement home.”
“I’m only 4 years older than you.” George had said.
“How much is that in dog years?” Sapnap had asked, in a completely serious tone.
“I don’t know, we aren’t dogs.”
“So you’re in your catboy arc?”
George hung up on him.
“And then you asked me to come and talk, I didn’t get any time to,” George cuts off as he notices he accidentally answered the question by pressing on the mouse a little too hard. He clicks on the back option to return to the question.
“You could’ve told me you wanted to edit the video.”
“But I wanted to talk to you,” He mumbles without realizing, slapping a hand over his mouth the next moment, brain already in a panic to come up with an excuse for his words.
“So being around someone doing nothing?” George is surprised when there’s no hint of teasing in Dream’s voice. If he were bold enough, he might even think he sounded fond. (He is bold enough)
George just sighs and chooses what Dream said, before moving on to the next option. “I receive a gift from someone I love, or I get told they love me,” George pushes against his desk, stretching his legs out, “Why are all the options more or less the same?”
“Ask the maker, I'm just a taker,” Dream says. A knocking sound comes from his side, and George can hear his chair creak.
“Wow, what amazing rhyming skills you possess,” He can practically picture Dream rolling his eyes at his dry tone (He shouldn’t, picturing Dream’s face is always dangerous. Overactive imagination and all)
George thinks of the constant reaffirmations of love he gets from his friends, ones he’s always slightly hesitant to return but does his best to do so anyway. He thinks of Dream telling him he loves him every time they end a call, Sapnap slipping reminders of the same at the conclusions of playful arguments, his mom making sure he hears it from her every day, his friends randomly saying it on stream when he’s not even there, only for him to find out from clips circulating around. Those three words have always been hard to say for him, he runs circles around them, but his loved ones shoot them at him like arrows of assurances, and he lets each one pierce his body, not bothering to take them out.
He chooses someone saying they love him, and doesn’t have the heart to lie to Dream this time, not when Dream is one of the biggest reasons behind his choice.
Well, Dream is a huge reason behind every choice, but George tries not to dwell on that and pushes it to the back of his mind.
“Aww, you get annoyed when we say that,” Dream actually has the nerve to coo at him, “But you think it's meaningful.”
“Are you wiggling your eyebrows right now?”
“What if I was?”
“I am going to hang up and block you on every platform.” There’s no threat in his voice whatsoever.
“No you won’t, because you want me to tell you that I love you,” Dream teases, and George is disappointed in his heart when the pathetic organ has the audacity to bloom at Dream’s words instead of getting disgusted.
“I don’t, never say-,” George doesn’t get a chance to finish, and is tempted to go back and change his choice. But his heart is still pounding, and the heat rising up his neck makes it hard to think.
“I’m gonna say it all the time, just for you. I could even record myself saying it and send it to you-”
“Dream, stop.”
“I love you, George. Did you hear that? I love you,” He pauses, “Oh you didn’t hear, I can say it again then, I love you.”
“Dream, do not-”
“Aw, you want me to repeat it? Don’t worry, I’ll repeat it as many times as you want. I love you, I love you so much-”
George should be cringing or making noises of disdain or leaving the call to prove a point. He should be raising his voice and singing ‘la la la la la’ to drown Dream out and get him to stop, or soundboard him saying this and threaten to put it on Twitter. He should be putting more force into his words when he tells him to stop, or at least try to. He should be doing anything but enjoying it, anything but wanting to bottle up this moment in all its teasing and soft glory and put it on a shelf that’s out of reach for anyone but him. (Which is… you know, slightly impossible, cause George is average height, but logic goes brr)
“I’m moving on,” George says, still murmuring, hoping Dream didn’t hear him and continued with his love declarations.
Dream, however, can hear George’s voice over almost anything, and stops immediately, “Alright, the last one. I love you.” It's not teasing this time, it's genuine and it's serious, and it compels George to reply, “I love you too, idiot. Now let me finish this quiz.” \
"Sitting close to someone I love or getting complimented for no reason.” George already knows what's coming next.
“George, you’re so amaz-”
“Dream, if you start praising me just to get me to choose the second option, shut up.”
“But you are,” George can hear him suppress a laugh as he continues, “You’re awesome, and you’re handsome, and you’re kind and,” George is regretting his life choices, “Hey! I could call Sapnap, I’m sure he wants to compliment you endlessly too, tell you how wonderful and beau-,”
“I’m choosing sitting close, fuck off,” George says, and Dream lets out an exaggerated sigh. Don’t imagine him pouting, that’s too adorable. Seriously George- oh no shit, why did you think of his nose scrunching and his freckles coming closer to each other. What the hell is wrong with you? Stop right now.
George is utterly regretful of his decision to choose the getting compliments option.
“Chance to hang out or unexpectedly getting small gifts,” He mutters the next two choices, once again wanting to complain about the similarity of each option. He doesn’t wait for Dream this time, choosing the gift option. I can’t believe a miniature elephant is swaying my choices.
“Alright, next question.”
“Wait, what’d you choose for this one?”
“Gifts,” George answers simply, looking at the next pair of choices. He doesn’t bother voicing it to Dream, it's another differently-worded repetition of previous options. Getting told by someone you love that they are proud of you or them helping you with a task - George chooses help this time.
“Cool, so I should unexpectedly send you stuff eve-,”
“If I get a single package from you without being told in advance and approving it, I will turn it out the door.” He is glad he sounds slightly firmer.
“What if I send myself without telling you? The travel ban’s open, I could be at the airport right now.”
George gets an idea and runs with it. “It said small gifts, so what I’m hearing is you admitting you’re-”
“George!” Dream exclaims, the sound of him slapping his desk making George pull his headphones slightly away from his ear, “I try to be wholesome and you-”
“Okay, okay,” George giggles, “Go on then, be wholesome.”
Dream clears his throat, and George wonders if he’s blushing. “Right, as I was saying, I could be at the airport right now, will you let me in?”
“No, you can sleep on the streets.” George moves to the next question. Getting to do things with someone you love or having them say supportive things - he makes a split-second decision to go for the first.
“Will you join me?”
“No.”
“You wound me,” Dream tries to imitate a whine, and fails.
“You’ll survive.”
Someone I love does things for me instead of just talking about doing nice things or I feel connected to them through a hug - George’s eyes graze over the options, Dream still complaining in his ear - and chooses the second one, biting his lip as he tries not to think of how much he could use a hug right now.
“We should get on with the quiz.”
“I’ve been answering questions all this time,” He replies, choosing another answer on a whim.
“I feel betrayed, George. You’re supposed to be doing this with me.”
I’m able to be around someone I love or get a back rub from them - George scoffs at the question, doesn’t getting a back rub already mean you’re around them? He chooses the first option.
“Fine, I’ll read the next ones. Someone I love reacts positively to my accomplishments or does something for me that they don’t particularly enjoy.”
“What’s your answer?”
“I don’t know, why would someone I love doing something they don’t enjoy be meaningful to me?”
“Cause you’re a sadist?” Dream offers, “And you’re thinking these through too much. You tried avocado even though you don’t like it, it made me happy. It's that simple.”
Simple for you, George wants to say, but settles for an “I’m not a sadist,” and clicks the second option.
He lets Dream prove his sadist George agenda as he the blonde cites instances in his ear while he answers the next few questions, all of them a repeat of different ones. “Why do almost all of them make you choose between touching or getting gifts?” He asks, choosing another option, “It's like offering two extremes. There you go, you’re either touch starved or greedy,” He imitates what he thinks the maker sounds like, overly sweet and persuasive. It's bad, but it makes Dream laugh, so it cancels out.
“Finally an original one. Someone I love doesn’t check their phone while we’re talking or goes out of their way to relieve pressure on me.”
Dream technically has to check his phone most of the time to talk to me- he starts to think, a part of his mind immediately arguing against it - this isn’t a love language for the best friend you’re desperate for quiz, it's a love language for all quiz. George rubs his forehead, arguing back. Well, almost all my friends need their phones to talk to me. He receives an answer, that’s not the same as checking their phones.
He realizes he’s arguing with himself and stops before his mind can get stuck in a loop, quickly choosing the second option. Another series of questions pass, ones he doesn’t have to think through because neither of the options provided mean too much. Instead, he focuses on Dream’s voice as the blond tells him what he did that day, his animated tone bringing a smile to George’s face. H e answers the last question, and then the cursor loads, Dream stopping his rambling as they wait for the result.
“Physical touch at 27 percent,” George groans, he can just hear Dream’s next words, “And Quality time is second at 25 percent.”
“What about the others?”
“Acts of service at 21, receiving gifts and words of affirmation both at 16.”
George knew it was coming when Dream bursts into a series of wheezes, not bothering to pull himself away from the mic and laughing maniacally into George’s ears. George knows it's no good to ask him to stop, he’s gonna take his sweet time before he transforms back from a tea kettle.
No, George definitely isn’t asking him to stop because he likes Dream laugh. How dare his mind insinuate such a thing. Minutes ago you were insinuating things much intens- another part of his mind retorts, and George is both surprised and annoyed at how he can argue with so many parts of himself.
Oh look at that, George thinks when he remembers what he had insinuated, my dignity just flew out the window. What a pity.
“Physical touch, huh?” Dream’s grin is audible in his voice, “What does that mean? You want people to choke you like they hate you but they lo-” And he dissolves into another fit of wheezes, drawn-out and punctuated with fond enunciations of the brunette's name.
“No,” George says indignant, “That is definitely not what it means.”
“We’ll see when you get here,” Dream says, still chuckling, “Seriously? Physical touch? I thought you’d be more of an act of service person.”
Yeah, cause I can’t really be physical with someone from across the world, can I? George tries to relax.
“I can’t believe gift-giving is that low, so all the stuff I sent you was for nothing?” Dream, for some reason, finds whatever he’s saying very amusing. George has different opinions.
Not for nothing, George wants to say, as he looks around his room. Little trinkets from Dream ducked into every corner, meaning more to him than things smaller than your hand probably should.
“What did you get?” He asks instead.
Dream finally stops laughing. He’s still struggling to breathe, but at least the loud exclamations of bemusement are gone. “Quality time,” He replies after a while, once he has caught his breath.
Don’t think about calls and hours on stream, don’t think about calls and hours on stream, don’t think about calls and hours on stream, don’t think-
Don’t think. Yeah, that’s easy, George decides, I can put my brain to rest.
“I like spending time with people I love, that’s why I wanted to be here when you took the test.”
Never mind, George can’t put his brain to rest.
Turns out he can’t put it to use either, because his mind is completely blank, with no trace of any response to what Dream said. He opens his mouth to speak, and his breath hitches.
“George?” He is relieved when his vocal chords start to work again and hums in response.
“I took another quiz yesterday-,” George opens his mouth to say something, “And no, before you protest, I’m not gonna make you take it.” George closes his mouth to no longer say something.
“It was this quiz that tells you whether you are an optimist, a realist, or a pessimist.”
“What’d you get?” George thinks he might be imagining it, but Dream sounds careful, scared even.
“Realist.”
“As expected.” The two huff out a laugh.
George waits for Dream to continue, used to sitting in comfortable silence with him. When he does eventually, George is all ears, focused on nothing but the voice coming through his headphones. “There was this question on it that I wanted to ask you,” Dream pauses, waiting for George to speak against it. When he doesn’t, he goes on, “Can I?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
Dream clears his throat, and George can feel the bundle of nerves constricting in his throat. “A good friend asks you out on a date. Assuming you were single, how would you respond?”
Oh
“The options are - politely decline, you don’t want to risk losing what we have.”
A selfless person would choose that, would value gentle friendship overheated desire. George isn’t selfless, he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t choose that.”
“The second was - say yes, there’s nothing to lose.”
But there is. There’s so much to lose. “No,” George takes a breath, “That’s too selfish.”
If I were to ask you, he wants to tell Dream, and you said yes because you had nothing to lose, wouldn’t that be selfish of you? You won’t be thinking about what I might have to lose. Love doesn’t work like that.
“Always the moral equilibrium, huh?”
“What’s the next option?”
“It's the last one,” Dream says, voice low and hesitant. George thinks he might die right then.
“Say yes if you already have feelings for me, otherwise it's not a good idea.”
“That’s obviously the logical way to-,”
Wait, George stops, he said for me. If you have feelings for me.
And while George is panicking, not saying anything, unable to decide if it was a slip-up or if it was intentional, unable to know what Dream wants him to say, what he himself wants to say to Dream - while George is wishing he can pause that moment to gather his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the camera icon on the discord call change. He doesn’t notice the blonde hair and kind eyes that stare at him, nervous and waiting and watching, mesmerized.
No, George is too busy admiring the wood of his desk as if it would give him his answers.
“George?”
With that, he turns to the screen, and the moment yellow eyes lock with his, he thinks it's the end for him. Shout out your channel, his head says, you’re done.
“George? Otherwise, it's not a good idea? Remember that? You can say no.”
He has no idea why he whispers when he’s in the house alone, “I don’t want to say no.”
Dream’s eyes light up, and George thinks they might just be brighter than the sun. “Why?”
“I think it's a good idea.”
“What makes you think that?”
You. “My cracked brains.”
“Would you say yes then?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” George can see him smile, before suddenly remembering his own camera is turned off. He turns it open and admires the way Dream’s eyes widen before setting gently on him, his smile reaching up to his eyes. “Why would you say yes, George?” He repeats.
Because of you. “I feel like it.” He laughs, a tear threatening to fall from his eye.
“What makes you feel like it?”
You do, “The weather,” Don’t ask me all these questions, Dream, “It's quite nice and sunny today,” Not when you’re the answer to all of them, “Don’t you think?”
“It's evening for you.” Dream quips, a smile permanently etched on his face now.
And his face. If George wasn’t so busy trying to make his brain cells work and not go speechless, he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes away from Dream’s face.
“And? I’d still say yes.”
He pushes his tears back as he sees Dream visibly gulp, leaning forward in his chair before he asks, finally, “Go on a date with me?”
George is sure no one in the world is smiling as wide as the two of them. "Yes, you idiot.”
“Your idiot.”