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Technoblade will never understand how, at age twenty-nine, his adopted father still has the ability to make him feel about three feet tall with his hand caught in the cookie jar.
It’s witchcraft is what it is.
He says as much to Phil.
“Techno,” Phil says warningly in response, “I mean it, I worry about you and it won’t hurt for you to get on Tinder or Grinder or Bumble or whatever it is that the kids are using nowadays. Go have some fun for once.”
“Cringe, I have fun. I very much enjoy stabbing orphans on Minecraft in my spare time and so do my viewers,” Techno mutters as he continues peering at the spreadsheet he has been trying to review for the past hour, “also, not a good time, I’m about to get the promotion-”
“There’s more to life than work and Minecraft,” Phil admonishes gently, “just try. Honestly, if you don’t give it a good go by the end of month, I’m going to suggest for Wilbur and Tommy to take you out for a night, to help you meet someone.”
“Heh?!” Techno immediately focuses on the conversation at hand, and looks away from his laptop screen. “You wouldn’t,” he protests weakly.
He has seen the aftermath of Wilbur and Tommy’s night outs, and all he can say is that the Hangover movie franchise could stand to learn a thing or two about wild, ridiculous antics.
Help.
He’s not sure he would survive a night out with those two hooligans.
“Just try me,” Phil replies from the iPad screen, frowning sternly and crossing his arms.
There is a beat of silence in which Techno tries to telepathically convince Phil to change his mind, but when the seconds crawl by without any change in the other’s expression, Techno concedes.
“One date,” Techno mutters reluctantly.
Phil beams, “it’s a start.”
---
“Have an updated annual budget for you to look at,” comes Dream’s too familiar voice, rousing Techno from the stupor he had fallen into whilst drafting the monthly figures.
“Dream,” he acknowledges, then sighs when he spies the printed documents in the blond’s hands. “Bruh, what is your aversion to emails? Why do you insist on being a tree killer?”
Dream shrugs casually from where he’s leaning against the door frame. “I like printed copies, gives me a reason to get out of my office for a bit,” he pauses then waggles his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, “allows me to enjoy the view in other departments.”
“Fantastic,” Techno says blandly, “you’re killing the environment and a harassment suit in the making. Allow me to give HR a heads up so they can get a start on the paperwork.”
“Oh don’t worry,” Dream reassures as he walks into Techno’s office and sidles over until he’s leaning over the desk, “I only have my eyes on a certain individual.”
Techno valiantly resists the urge to roll his eyes.
“Very mysterious, I pity the individual who has the dubious honour of catching your eye,” he mocks, then nods towards the corner of his desk in a silent cue for Dream to drop off the papers and move on along. When Dream does not immediately do so, Techno looks away from his screen to peer at the blond.
Dream looks almost disappointed?
Only, before Techno can properly parse out the reason, Dream seems to shake off the sentiment. “So,” the blond starts with an easy smile, “how about we grab a coffee and discuss the budget when you’re free next?”
“Next Thursday at 2 pm,” Techno replies, mentally scrolling through his calendar to see if there’s an opening before.
“Lunch then,” Dream tries, his smile waning.
Techno squints up at the darling of the Marketing department in suspicion. “I usually work and eat,” he admits after a moment, “is this about the increase? I don’t care what you say, you cannot justify a 20% uplift in your department spendings.”
Dream’s smile twitches at the corner, as if he’s trying hard to maintain the expression. “What about dinner tonight?”
“I work late,” Techno explains.
“Another day then, seems like you’re planning to leave early on Thursday?” Dream asks nonchalantly.
But it makes Techno pause.
Huh.
Okay.
Yes, all of their calendars are publicly available.
But Dream still had to have gone out of his way to look up Techno’s calendar to have known about the dinner invite.
“Bruhhh,” Techno sighs, “that’s not creepy at all that you know my schedule, also, if you already looked at my calendar then why did you-”
He stops when his brain catches up with his mouth.
Thursday night is meant to be a family get together at Phil’s place, and if he plays his cards right, he could potentially fulfil his stepfather’s ridiculous demand and be free of good-intentioned nagging for the immediate foreseeable future.
Or at least until Phil next remembers that one of his adopted sons is a sarcastic recluse destined to be alone.
“How much do you want that 20% increase?” he asks slowly as a terrible idea pops into existence in his mind.
Dream looks confused by the rapid change in topic.
Techno decides to take pity and bring the other into the loop.
“Would you be willing to pretend to be my date for one night in exchange for,” Techno grabs the papers out of Dream’s slack hands and licks his thumb briefly to wet it before he pages it to the relevant page, “a 15% increase in your department’s budget for the next year.”
He looks up when Dream does not immediately respond.
The blond looks shell shocked, though oddly enough, his too wide eyes seem to be trained on Techno’s mouth.
Self-conscious, Techno licks his lips, unsure if maybe he had left something on them with his thumb.
Dream makes an odd wheezing noise.
“Dream?”
“Ye-yes,” Dream stutters out, “dinner, date, yes.”
Techno’s brows furrow in concern. “Uhh,” he tries, “you okay there?”
“I’m fine, I’ll email you!” Dream gets out before he’s out the door, leaving Techno to stare after him with a bemused expression.
Huh.
That went better than expected.
---
“You’re dating Techno,” Tommy asks, one brow raised in skepticism, “Technoblade. You. Dating.”
“How unfortunate, Tommy,” Techno pipes up from the side, “I see the expensive university courses, which I presume you’ve been barely attending, have not yet improved your erudition.”
“Fuck off, not all of us were failed English majors,” Tommy immediately replies, then narrows his eyes at the two of them, “I just don’t buy this.”
Dream doesn’t seem at all bothered by the outright disbelief or the intense scrutiny. “We’re not dating,” he corrects, then looks appropriately abashed and sends a convincingly sappy look in Techno’s direction, “we’re just seeing where it goes. Honestly amazed that Techno even gave me a shot, you have no idea how many people have been trying to ask the pink-haired prince of the finance department out.”
“Cringe,” Techno mutters, even as his cheeks burn at the implied compliment.
“Ew,” Tommy comments, drawing back in pretend disgust, “what a simp, Big T isn’t a prince.”
“I will dropkick you,” Techno promises without a pause.
He then catches sight of Wilbur’s intrigued face and feels a sense of trepidation build in the pit of his stomach. “No,” he says pre-emptively, “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’d like to remind you that Dream is a guest and should not be-”
“How long have you liked Technoblade?” Wilbur asks with an innocent smile.
“Heh?” Techno tries, “is this what we do to guests now? Interrogations aren’t pog Wilbur-”
“Since last fall,” Dream admits readily, looking a bit red in the face, “saw him feed the stray dog by the office and was taken in by how gentle he was.” He sneaks a glance at Techno, very much in character as the close coworker with a crush they had agreed would be his persona for the night. “Couldn’t stop watching him after that. Eventually I realized I might be interested in getting to know him so I’ve been trying to get a date ever since.”
It’s a good cover story.
Very plausible.
Suspiciously so.
Techno isn’t sure how Dream knows he feeds the stray dog that loiters by their office in the late evenings.
“You’ve liked Technoblade since last fall?” Tommy remarks, face scrunched and visibly gagging, “that’s like, at least nine months ago, you’ve been simping for that long?”
Dream looks offended. “In my defense,” the blond mutters, “at first I just wanted to be friends.”
“And now?” Wilbur prods, looking all too delighted by the conversation.
Dream casts another indecipherable look in Techno’s direction but before he responds, Phil enters the living room with a weary look on his face.
“I could swear I asked you two to help set up for dinner. Now move it.” He stares pointedly at Wilbur and Tommy, and both groan but obligingly gets off the couch to shuffle over to the kitchen.
“Didn’t know you could act,” Techno observes in the ensuing silence, reluctantly impressed.
He supposes that it makes sense though.
Can’t be in Marketing if you can’t be charming in all situations.
He frowns when Dream merely sighs in response and files the strange response to puzzle over later.
The rest of the dinner goes surprisingly well.
In that, Dream is very good at acting like he’s romantically interested in Techno.
Techno is stupidly pleased with his plan.
Technoblade is never wrong!
He also vows to give Dream the full 20% because the blond deserves it.
Dream is really giving it his all to be as convincing as possible.
He must really want that budget increase.
---
Techno takes it back.
The marketing department is going to see a severe 50% decrease in their annual budget.
“Dream,” he hisses quietly, “you absolute madman, are you listening to me? You have to say you’re busy, do not commit-”
“I’ll be there,” Dream promises to the phone in his hand and Techno experiences what he thinks is a heart attack.
“Why?” he asks mournfully once the call with Phil is done, “do you enjoy my suffering?”
Dream rolls his eyes. “It’s pretty suspicious if I show up for one evening and hard simp for you the entire night, only to disappear and decline invites a few days later,” he points out, then clears his throat, “besides, I have nothing to do on Saturday.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to help out with the bake sale,” Techno tries, “wouldn’t you like to do literally anything else? Because I would, believe me, none of us would help if we weren’t his minions.”
“Children,” Dream corrects.
Techno waves a his hand dismissively.
Phil’s children, Phil’s minions, what’s the difference?
“It sounds like it’s for a good cause,” Dream comments idly, “what’s the harm?”
Techno simply sighs.
Famous last words.
Few days later finds both of them in a swelteringly hot kitchen.
Tommy had gotten bored two hours into the bake sale and started adding in strange ingredients in the name of experimentation and got banished from the kitchen. Wilbur got banished for being distracted and forgetting about the choux pastries in the oven. Which is how, by the early afternoon, Techno and Dream are the only one in the kitchen.
Techno is fairly sure Dream is regretting saying he’ll help out with the annual bake sale to raise awareness and funding for the orphanage now.
Primarily because the kitchen is a god damn furnace, a fact which can’t be helped with the oven consistently on.
Techno has already tied up his hair into a sensible ponytail, ignoring Dream’s wide-eyed looks, because who cares if he doesn’t look good. He just needs to get his hair out of his face and away from the cake mixtures.
Now, Techno is up to his elbows in sticky batter and frosting.
He absentmindedly licks at some extra vanilla frosting that has gotten on his fingers, sucking the tip of a finger into his mouth when he realizes there’s more than he initially anticipated.
There is a crash.
Dream makes a strange coughing noise and scrambles to retrieve the fallen baking sheet.
Techno looks up with a disgruntled look. “If you’re also trying to get kicked out for being a menace,” he promises darkly, “I-”
“No,” Dream refutes desperately, cheeks flushed, looking genuinely contrite, “I just, uh, butter fingers you know.”
Techno peers at him for a bit then decides to grant some leniency, because Dream truly has been a decent helper thus far in the day.
“Alright,” he allows and points at the loaded tray on the counter, “now my goon, go carry out this tray of cupcakes. Carefully.”
“Yeah, you ah,” Dream sounds like he can’t breathe, “you have a bit of frosting on your mouth.”
Techno sighs and tries to wipe at his mouth, only to freeze when Dream moves in impossibly close and catches his hand half-way.
“Let me,” Dream mutters.
Techno’s brain screeches to a halt.
“Heh?” is all he gets out before Dream’s fingers are grasping at his chin and the blond is leaning in.
There is the sensation of a warm tongue at the corner of his mouth and Techno’s mental faculties shut down.
“Dre-” he tries to say, or ask, he has no idea, only for Tommy to burst into the kitchen like the human tornado that he is.
“Where are those cupcakes?” he shouts then freezes, “NOT POG NOT COOL! WHAT THE FUCK! I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THAAAAAT!”
“Oops,” Dream draws away with an easy laugh, a bright mischievous gleam in his eyes when he turns to look at Tommy, “bad timing kid.”
“I’M A BIG MAN YOU FUCKING ARSEHOLE!” Tommy growls, hands over his eyes still, “I NEED EYE BLEACH!”
Techno is glad when Tommy and Dream continue to bicker as it gave him a chance to take a step back and turn his back to the two blonds.
Seriously, how hot is this kitchen?
Because that has to be the reason his cheeks are burning and his heart is thumping.
Right?!
---
It doesn’t get better from there.
Techno explained that Dream can stop pretending after the baking incident, only for the blond to stubbornly refuse and double down on his efforts to be Techno’s fake boyfriend for realism's sakes, or so he claims.
Frankly, Techno is a bit taken aback.
Either Dream is more dedicated to his acting roles or he really wants that 20% increase for his department’s annual budget.
Either way, much to Techno’s unending frustration, Dream excels all expectations as a significant other and wins over Techno’s meager handful of family and friends with apparent ease, weaving himself into the fabric of Techno’s life until he becomes an integral part of the tapestry.
Until Techno can’t imagine a future without him.
Quite frankly, it’s alarming.
Techno realizes with a start a few weeks later that he isn’t sure when it became normal for him to expect Dream to swing by with a cup of genmaicha tea around 3 pm, when Techno’s attention is waning and he needs a caffeine pick me up. Or why, several times a week, he finds himself working late together with the blond and inevitably ends up grabbing dinner together.
It becomes so normal that Techno almost lets himself forget that it's an act put on for the sake of pulling the wool over Phil's eyes.
Almost.
“He’s good for you,” Phil comments one day.
Techno looks up from where he had been staring at the polar bears.
As part of the annual tradition, the family had volunteered to take all the children at the orphanage out for an excursion, and after a heated debate, had eventually settled for the zoo. Since arriving earlier that morning, they've quietly settled into their routines, meaning, Wilbur and Tommy are running around with the orphans whilst Phil and Techno follow at a more sedated pace.
“I’m serious Technoblade,” Phil continues, smiling gently at nothing in particular.
Techno swallows down the guilt. “You, what, you can’t mean Dream,” he jokes, “as if that nerd is good enough for someone like me.”
Phil spares a brief chuckle before he lets out a decidedly fond sigh. “There you go deflecting again.”
There is a beat of companionable silence, during which Techno prays desperately for this topic to be dropped.
“Did you know I always worried about you?” Phil confesses.
Techno stills. “Heh?” he tries not to sound too offended, “me? You worried about me? You know your other children are respectively a hobo musician and a gremlin child-”
“I worry about all of you,” Phil says diplomatically, instead of admitting Techno’s step-siblings are demonic creatures who’ve decided to take humanoid form to torture mankind for their sins, “but with you, well, I always thought that I should’ve done something when you were younger to get you to open yourself up more mate, but I’m glad you’re opening up with Dream’s help.”
What?
“I-” Techno tries to protest.
Phil gives him a look from the corner of his eyes and Techno shuts up obligingly.
“You were always such a serious child,” Phil continues and fondly pats Techno’s shoulders, “always asking me how you can pay me back for adopting you, when all I ever wanted was for you to have a chance at the life that you deserved to have.”
“My life is fine,” Techno says weakly.
Phil smiles knowingly, “but is it better now that you’ve met Dream?”
Techno opens his mouth to deny it.
Except.
His brain suddenly recalls the late night conversations, the thoughtful small ways Dream goes out of his way to cater to Techno’s particular habits, the kiss-
Traitorously, his mouth doesn’t seem to be working and he can’t get the words out.
“I know mate, I’m being cringe,” Phil teases with a rueful laugh, “but Dream seems like a nice young man.”
“Uh,” Techno gets out as his heart drops to the pit of his stomach, unable to articulate the growing sense of panic inside his chest.
It would be so easy to continue pretending, only, he doesn’t want to keep lying to Phil.
“We’re not dating,” he blurts out, ducking his head to avoid looking at his step-father, unwilling to see the look of disappointment on the other’s face.
Phil hums placidly. “I know, you’re seeing how it goes right?”
Which.
“I, it’s, we, it’s not working out,” Techno says thickly, still looking away, “besides I have that promotion coming up so I won’t have time for the nerd.”
“Oh Technoblade,” Phil chides fondly, then leans over to nudge Techno with a shoulder, “you’ve more than exceeded everyone’s hopes for you. So for once, stop focussing on work and let yourself be happy and enjoy life before your youth gets away from you.”
Happy.
Right.
---
“This isn’t working out,” Techno explains the following Monday morning, clearing his throat roughly when Dream makes a confused noise, “this whole fake dating thing I mean.”
There is a pause.
Dream’s face goes through a complicated array of emotions from confusion to understanding to dismay to a pointed blankness.
“You ah, you don’t have to worry, I’ll give you the 20%,” Techno promises readily, “you more than fulfilled your part of the bargain.”
He pauses when Dream does not immediately respond.
"Thank you," Techno adds on stiffly.
“Technoblade,” Dream starts quietly, then stops to rub at his face with his hands, “this really isn’t what I thought you’d say when you asked me to-” He stops again, visibly gathers himself and says carefully, “is- did you, was there something, did something happen over the weekend?”
Techno doesn’t know what to say.
He doesn’t know how to say that nothing happened other than his earth shattering realization that Dream is perfect. Dream is the kind of significant other that Techno always secretly yearned for in the silent embrace of many a lonely night, when his flat is shrouded in darkness and he has resorted to hugging a pillow to sleep once again.
All because in the past weeks, Techno has learned that Dream is surprisingly thoughtful and kind, frustratingly smart, hilariously snarky and so so gorgeous that Techno still sometimes find himself jerk off to the idea of having the other above him and-
He stops that train of thought at the station.
But in all seriousness, Techno is unwilling to admit that he might like the blond, much less say it to Dream when he knows the latter is only in it as a quid pro quo for his department's annual budget. He can just imagine the conversation now:
Funny story Dream, you know how we were meant to be fake dating?
Well, apparently my heart didn't get the memo.
Yeah.
No thanks.
“Nahhh,” he says instead. “Just thinking that every story has a denouement and all machinations eventually come to a conclusion,” Techno points out matter-of-factly, “besides, it’s not pog to lie Dream. Not sure about your conscience, but mine won’t let me perpetuate this farce any longer.”
Dream draws back slightly.
“Far-. Technoblade. What, you, it’s almost been a month,” he points out in a harsh whisper, “you're just now-”
“Dream come on, we both got what we needed out of the deal,” Techno says again, trying for dismissive, “don’t make this more cringe than it is Dream, I’m already talking about emotions on a Monday morning. Have some sympathy.”
“Cringe,” Dream parrots numbly.
Techno resists the urge to fidget when the blond continues to stare blankly at him.
“I thought,” Dream begins to say, then chuckles, a bitter sounding thing that makes Techno wince inwardly, “forget it, obviously I was just deluding myself.”
Which seems like a strange remark.
“I mean, you are a good actor?” Techno offers tentatively, wondering if the blond wanted validation for his acting skills.
He flinches when Dream barks out a sharp laugh.
“Yeah,” Dream says abruptly, taking a step back, “I’m such a fucking good actor.”
Techno presses his lips together when Dream stalks out.
He turns to stare at his computer screen, tracing the tiny numbers and words on his screen with tired eyes.
This is fine.
---
“What happened to Dream?” Wilbur asks as a greeting, barging into Techno's room and plopping down on the bed.
Techno’s left eye twitches at the other’s lack of respect for his clean sheets and resolutely ignores the question. “You absolute goon,” he grumbles instead, “at least take off your shoes before you get onto my bed.”
“Don’t avoid the question,” Wilbur retorts, though he does peel off his shoes as asked.
Techno ignores the conversation in favour of stabbing another player. For a few minutes, there is just the sound of the in game effects as Techno steadily eliminates every player from the opposing teams, further cementing his status as the Blood God of the server.
“Let’s go out,” Wilbur suggests eventually, “there’s a new restaurant and bar downtown whose menu is named after things in games.”
“Nerdddd,” Techno mocks, even though he can feel his interest being piqued, “paying big bucks for a meal just because it’s named after video games. What a loser. Couldn’t be me.”
He hears more than sees Wilbur scoff.
“Well mate, it's your choice,” Wilbur pushes, “game bar with me, because I’m your most generous and benevolent brother and am willing to sit through what I can only imagine will be concentrated nerd culture for you. Or you’re going clubbing with Tommy.”
Techno freezes, then swears when someone promptly takes the opportunity to push his character off a ledge.
He turns around and stare at Wilbur beseechingly. “You can’t be serious,” he demands, “what egregious sins have I committed that would cause you to force me to go clubbing with Tommy?”
“Tick tock Technoblade,” Wilbur sings, entirely unsympathetic, “we’re on strict orders from Phil to drag you away from the computer this weekend so one way or another, you’re going out. Apparently, someone has been brooding and causing Phil to worry.”
Well then.
This is how, hours later, Techno finds himself wedged into a hard booth with Wilbur, sitting opposite some strangers because supposedly it’s game night and participating in the competition was the only way to enter.
Wilbur is good-naturedly suffering through another round of the Potato Man card game, whilst Techno is doing his best to crush his new nemesis, a fellow game enthusiast who introduced himself as Squid.
He shall win the potato war.
Just watch him.
In fact, between the steady supply of cutely named cocktails ranging from the bright blue Nuka Cola Quantum to Red Dead Lemonade, and the steady banter at the table, Techno would even go as far as to say that he’s having fun. By the end of the night, he’s almost grateful to Wilbur for dragging him out.
He hadn't even realized he'd been sulking.
But then again, he's never experience heartache either so there's a first time for everything really.
Either way, being out reminded him that he is capable of developing meaningful connections with people other than a certain blond who shall not be named.
He is saying as much to Squid, who is helping to steady him on the curb outside of the bar whilst Wilbur calls for a taxi, when he hears a familiar voice.
“Technoblade?”
Techno mentally raises a fist towards the sky.
He doesn’t understand why the world treats him like this, he’s a good tax paying citizen, so what if he occasionally bullies children on the internet, he’s just helping them build up a tough skin for the life ahead.
He doesn't deserve this.
All of the bars downtown, why did Dream have to hanging out around this one?
“Dream,” he greets, then peers around to catch sight of the man, looking a bit flushed in the cheeks and with a displeased furrow to his brows. Techno swallows and tries not to goggle too much, because despite the slight scowl, Dream is still unfairly handsome, all artfully ruffled hair and a fitted shirt that’s casually unbuttoned at the top.
Techno tears his gaze away.
“You,” Dream asks, then pins a hard look on Squid, “who is this?”
“A worthy rival,” Techno introduces, then pauses and tacks on, “but I still won the potato war.”
“Relaaaax, okay, you did not,” Squid protests, “you bozo, it doesn’t count if-”
“Can I talk to you,” Dream interrupts, quite rudely in Techno’s opinion.
Techno squints at him.
“We’re talking right now,” he points out slowly, wondering if maybe Dream has had a few too many himself.
Dream sighs. “Why do you make everything so hard?” he mutters, “you, when your ex asks to- you know what, nevermind, I don’t even know why I like you.”
“Bruh,” Techno says automatically, even as his heart starts to beat in triple time in his chest, “you, you gotta learn to control that. I know it's habit, but you sound like a simp.”
Dream gives him an unimpressed stare, then inexplicably, looks down and tightens his hands into fists at the side.
“You know what Technoblade? You’re a right asshole,” the blond mutters before he stalks off.
“Heh?!” Techno gets out.
Squid looks a bit uncomfortable. “That was a bit harsh, okay.”
Techno frowns.
He’s the one to be pitied here, excuse him for trying to protect his heart from charming blonds who are out to seduce him for financial gain.
Squid makes a face and waves a hand in the direction Dream went off in, “just, you know, he obviously really likes you and you just called him a simp and told him not to-” He stops himself, looking chagrined, “sorry, not my place, maybe he’s an asshole, just relax okay, relax. I just felt bad for the guy.”
“He’s a good actor,” Techno replies, pushing down the sense of something rising up in the pit of his stomach, it feels like butterflies.
Or maybe it's vomit.
Feels about the same at this point in the night.
Squid squints at him before he makes a face. “Yeah, I'm not really sure that’s acting.”
Techno opens his mouth to explain, then decides he’s absolutely mad for wanting to tell a stranger his love life is so sad he has to ask a coworker to pretend to be his boyfriend, and shuts it again.
“Just saying you bozo,” Squid continues, “that was a genuine look of jealousy if I ever saw one.”
“Losers don’t get to talk,” Techno reminds him tetchily.
He’s relieved when Squid takes the bait and they devolve into a petty squabble.
He doesn’t want to think about Dream.
---
Congratulations.
Techno stares at the one word email and at the blinking cursor where he’s trying to type up his response, he knows he should reply, but-
Dream never sends him emails.
The sudden change makes Techno feel uncomfortably hollow inside, like someone carved out a piece of him and forgot to stuff it back in. He slumps over his desk, propping his chin on his arms as he peers up at the word.
It’s all his fault.
He should've known better than to involve Dream in his harebrained scheme.
He should’ve just gone out and paid a struggling actor to pretend for a few weeks.
Then they wouldn’t be in this awkward position, where Techno has foolishly fallen for the first person who’s shown him some kindness outside of his family and who now can't bare to look at him when they pass by each other in the office.
“Technoblade?”
Techno scrambles up, thankful for the privacy screens and the closed door he had insisted on installing a year back.
Open spaced offices are great and all, but he would still very much like his many goons to leave him alone out of fear and respect, thank you very much.
“Come in,” he acknowledges once he’s clicked away from the email screen and onto a less suspicious spreadsheet.
He is not sure how to feel when George from the HR department, pops his head in with a friendly smile.
“Do you have a minute?”
“Depends,” Techno hedges cautiously.
He has a sudden flash of fear that Dream might have said something, before rational thought takes over.
Dream might think he's a dick now, but the blond wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their working relationship.
Even if Techno's gone and fucked it up first.
George makes a face and politely peers over his shoulders, where Techno can only imagine his goons are all pretending to work while keeping an ear out for any juicy gossip. “Might be better if I come in.”
Wordlessly, Techno gestures at the chair in front of his desk.
The brunet beams again, quietly closing the door behind him and settling down. “So,” George begins, “Sap and I can’t handle this anymore. What did Dream do?”
“Heh?” Techno gets out weakly as his heart plummets to the bottom of his stomach.
George sighs. “Look,” he says reasonably, “we love him, but he’s an idiot. So whatever made you decide to break up with him is probably fair, but just, can you-” He slumps, “sorry, this isn’t fair, we just, he’s liked you for so long and he was so happy when you guys started going out, and if I have to listen to him bitch about your brother interrupting you guys in the kitchen one more time, I might lose it.”
“Bruh,” Techno coughs, “you, ah, you have the wrong idea. Dream doesn't actually like me, he was only doing me a favour by pretending to be interested in me.”
He tries not to wince at how pathetic he sounds, but seeing the normally placid and easy going George visibly distressed is a bit shocking.
“What,” George says flatly.
Techno takes in a deep breath. “Look, Dream wanted a 20% increase in his department’s budget for the next year and I offered to make it work with the projected profit margins if he would pretend to like me in front of my family. I know this is probably in breach of some HR protocol, but I promise it's all above board, I didn't use the budget to compel him to do anything he wasn't comfortable with.”
George’s eyes are wide.
Which is not a great sign.
Techno has a moment of panic.
Did Dream feel coerced into fake dating him?
“You,” George starts and thankfully interrupts that problematic train of thought, “you think Dream went out with you because of the annual budget?”
Techno pauses, feeling a bit wrong-footed by the query.
“Yes?” he replies, “that was, ah, that was our agreement?”
“I,” George leans back in the chair, “did you hear what I said? No wait, wow, I, Technoblade, don’t take this the wrong way, but you two are made for each other.”
There is a beat of silence.
George clears his throat. “Well, okay, this has been very helpful,” he smiles but it’s a bit wobbly, “thank you so much.”
---
An hour later, Techno enters the meeting room he was supposed to meet the IT department head in and does not know who is more surprised when he sees Dream instead.
“Uh,” Techno says, because there is a reason he is a failed English major.
“I’m going to kill Sappy Nappy,” Dream replies, looking a bit wild around the eyes. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“NO!” Shouts a voice from behind the door.
Techno flinches away from the door when it slams shut, as if someone was pulling it close from the outside.
“You two are going to talk this out privately,” the voice continues sternly through the door, “and this room is staying locked until you two hash it out. On orders from the HR department!”
“Wait,” Techno says, stepping closer to the door, “I’m fairly sure this isn’t legal.”
“SAP DON’T YOU DARE!”
Techno stares as Dream rushes at the door and pulls at the handles.
The handle jiggles in place but the door remains closed.
“Why do these rooms lock from the outside?” Techno asks in the ensuing silence, “this seems like a serious flaw in the design.”
“Who knows,” Dream mutters, “but let’s pretend to get along so we can get out.”
Which.
Hurtful.
Techno didn’t realize it was this hard for Dream to be in the same space as him.
“Heh?” Techno grimaces after a few more minutes of awkward silence passes by, “I, uh, I thought we did get along.”
Dream makes a frustrated noise. “Technoblade, honestly, is this funny to you?” he asks in a harsh whisper, “I really didn’t think you were the type of person who would be this insensitive. I can’t exactly just forget about the fact that I like you and go back to our normal routine so quickly.”
“Bruh, you have got to stop that,” Techno mutters back, allowing the confusion to bleed into hurt, “I get that my idea was stupid but you don’t have to keep mocking me by pretending that you like me.”
“Who said I was pretending?” Dream demands. “Technoblade, you cannot be this oblivious, I have liked you since last fall and have been flirting with you with every chance I got. I told you I liked you.”
“Because I asked you to,” Techno points out, but he’s starting to feel a sense of dread, “we had an agreement-”
“The agreement is just a ruse,” Dream hisses, cheeks flushed, “you haven’t ever given me the time of day before that day and I figured if I could show you that I can be a decent boyfriend then I might have a shot with you.”
“Heh?” Techno asks weakly.
Dream looks tired. “Look, I’ll try to get over it okay?” he promises bitterly, “but in the meantime, can you just give me some space so I can try to move on?”
“No, wait, I, I thought you were only acting to like me, and I, I just, you’re you and I, I’m a hardcore simp for you,” Techno blurts out messily, “but you, I didn’t know.” He concludes miserably.
“I helped you bake cookies for orphans on my day off,” Dream points out dubiously, “I got up early to get you coffee pretty much everyday, went out of my way to stay late at night to keep you company. You thought I want ed 20% that badly?”
Techno groans in embarrassment.
When put like that.
It all sounds so stupid.
“Wow,” Dream says after a moment, sounding stupefied, “are you an actual idiot?”
“Well,” Techno remarks blandly, “you’re talking to the man who destroys orphans on Minecraft in his spare time, so believe me when I say, this is all new grounds for me.”
Another pause.
“So do you like me?” Dream asks, his voice soft and uncertain.
Techno looks up. “You, I would offer to shine your shoes,” he clarifies, “get you coffee, whatever you need.”
“Simp,” Dream remarks, but he doesn’t sound actively upset now.
“Don’t remind me,” Techno sighs.
They stay in companionable silence a bit longer.
“So,” Dream clears his throat, “and for full clarity, I am asking because I am genuinely interested in you and give 0 fucks about the annual budget, but, would you, ah, would you like to go on a date with me?”
Over the roaring sound of blood rushing in his ears, Techno nods.
“No more fake dating?” Dream continues.
“No more fake dating.”
They both flinch when, outside of the door, there comes the audible sound of a chorus of cheers.
So much for privacy.