Archive of Our Own

“Top of the line model. Satisfies any and every need. One hundred percent effective with its tasks. Even has warranty for up to five years.”

George takes his gaze off his laptop. His eyes sweep over the android—tall, well-built, dirty blonde hair, colored eyes. It’s one of those typical perfect models fresh out of the factory: the kind without flaw that practically functions as every girl’s wet dream. He looks back at his screen.

"Take it back," he says and continues to type. 

"But Sir, it's the latest version. It hasn't even been released to the market. Your father made sure-" 

Sighing, George slams his laptop shut and stares at the man through narrowed eyes. His eyes wander over to the android again. He takes notice of the plastic yet very convincingly optimistic smile on his face. It’s too perfect. Too robotic. "I don't want it." 

"If you'd like a different gendered android, we could certainly-" 

George groans. He leans back on his desk chair and ruffles his hair with one hand. His glare fixates on the android and then moves to the man a second later. He bites back a rude remark, figuring it’s not the man’s fault that his father thinks he needs a plastic doll to take care of his every need. "Just— whatever. Leave it there. I don't plan on using it."

The man excuses himself out of his office. He leaves the android standing against the wall motionlessly watching him with that bothersome grin. George gets up from his desk and approaches it with his arms crossed. It looks so real. Breathing. Blinking. He’s surprised they haven’t learned to sneeze yet. He’s not sure why his father insists on making them so human-like. It’s almost like he’s trying to turn them into people. Nowadays, George thinks that maybe even people act more like robots. He scoffs and steps away.

There’s a knock at the door. George doesn’t even have time to ask who it is before it bursts open. He doesn’t need to anyway.

“George! Get your ass out of here and get changed. We’re going to the club!” Quackity exclaims as he jumps onto the desk.

Behind him, Karl walks in with a grin. “There’s a party at Euphoria tonight!”

“Pass,” George says and slumps onto his chair, holding his hands on his lap.

Quackity looks at him like he’s just been slapped. George rolls his eyes because he always acts like a drama queen whenever he doesn’t get what he wants. “Fucking hell, George!” He stands up and points an accusatory finger at him. “You are going out tonight! No argument. You need to get out of this stupid funk you’re in and stop acting like a 13-year-old during his emo phase.”

George scoffs. His smile is faint and teasing. He presses his feet on the floor and moves his heels side-to-side then spins halfway on his chair. “I’m not emo.”

“You’ve been in your ‘life is meaningless’ arc for months now! Don’t even lie,” Quackity accuses.

“You’ve barely gone out with us, George. Just this once!” Karl insists, a little nicer.

George claps his hands together and watches his friends. He knows they don’t mean any wrong, but he doesn’t feel like going out. Although it’s more of he doesn’t see the point of going out to party anymore. He got past that phase during his freshman year of college. It’s been two years since then, and nothing’s happened.

No problems. No missteps. No struggles. His father has made sure his life is perfect. But perfect is overrated. It’s boring. George hates it. He thought he could get over it by rebelling, but even when he was partying and getting into trouble with the law back then, nothing happened. His father has every single person in this stupid city wrapped around his fucking finger. There’s no point in fighting it anymore.

George’s life is perfect. Some people might say that’s a good thing, that he has no reason to complain because he’s supposed to be happy. He has it all. But George doesn’t agree. He feels like he’s turning into an android.

“Earth to George?”

His eyes land on Karl who’s looking at him with intrigue. George lets out a deep breath and shrugs. “I don’t feel like it.”

“Come on, man,” Quackity says and leans both hands on his desk, staring at George like this is a life or death situation. “Look. I think you just need to go out, drink some booze, get laid even, just do something out of the normal for once! You said you feel like a robot? Okay, well stop fucking acting like one!”

George opens his mouth, but Quackity interrupts.

“And don’t even fucking say there’s no point because there is! And that is you getting out of this hell hole and having some fun for once. Look, you see that?” He points at the android his father just gifted him. “Would you rather stay in here living a sad life and jerking off with it or whatever shit you do or go out with us and find yourself a living person that actually gives good head?”

George’s face turns hot. He scoffs and looks away, embarrassed by his best friend’s vulgarity. He’s never even considered using androids in that way. “Okay. Fine. Whatever, I’ll go.”

“Yes!” they both exclaim. 

Later that night, he ends up trapped between warm moving bodies with his eardrums at the edge of bursting from the blasting music. The air smells of alcohol, drugs, and sweat. He feels gross. He ends up at the bar by himself taking shots of tequila. Unsurprisingly, he’s lost Quackity and Karl in between the crowd of college-aged students. It’s not the first time.

He taps the silver watch on his wrist. Stares at the jagged crack across the face of it. Reads the time.

4:04.

Someone slides into the barstool beside him. He doesn’t bother looking at them, but they don’t leave. So he caves. He turns and locks eyes with the blonde girl smiling at him. Her curls are fake and perfect. Her face’s caked in make-up. She has pretty and bright blue eyes. If George didn’t know any better, he’d think she’s an android.

But when she leans into him and asks his name in a soft and flirty tone, he knows she’s not. George drinks his last shot and slams the glass down. He stares at her.

They end up in his bedroom with their lips and limbs interlocked. Hot and heavy breathing fills the room. She throws herself on the bed and pulls him down with him, giggling and whispering lewd comments into his ear as she plants kisses on his neck. He gets over it pretty quick. He’s not nearly drunk enough to entertain her. So he figures he’d rather not waste either of their time and pushes her away. She looks confused and then angry. 

When she leaves, the door slams and knocks over a vase beside it. It shatters.

George sighs and turns toward the mirror. His hair is messy. The top buttons of his shirt have popped open and he’s got lipstick marks all over his neck. Behind him, he spots the android staring back at him. For some reason, he feels embarrassed, even though he knows it’s not real. It can’t think. George almost wishes he was like it. At least then he wouldn’t have to deal with this uncomfortable emptiness spreading inside him like he’s missing a piece of the puzzle that is life. He hates it.

He grabs his towel and drags his feet into the shower. The water is nearly boiling. George likes it that way. It’s painful. It makes him feel something. When he gets out, he’s ruffling his hair dry with his towel when he spots the android again. He didn’t even ask for its name, so he doesn’t know how he’d even use it.

For some reason, he finds himself standing in front of it, examining every detail on its aspect. His eyes are supposed to be a pretty color—one that George can’t see well, but everyone always calls it pretty. George has always thought it looks lifeless. He’s a head taller than George, and he’s built with a subtle layer of muscle which George can see through the thin white long sleeve. His hair is slicked back, not strand out of place. George almost wants to run his fingers through it to mess it up. He looks closer and that’s when his breath hitches.

It’s something he’s never noticed on any other android. He can hardly believe it. There’s a cloud of freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks. They’re clustered in different places, some smaller than others, some darker. It looks like someone’s sprinkled a mess of specks of paint over his skin. They look mesmerizing. The more he looks, the more he notices other beautiful details—those which some might call flaws.

His lips are slightly chapped, and he has a bit of stubble around them. There are a few stray hairs in the middle of his brow. The more he looks, the more he admires. He gets closer and closer, so close his lips almost graze the android.

And then he feels it. It’s faint. It’s humid. It’s the slightest breath of air that tickles George’s face. It's alive. 

His eyes turn impossibly wide and he stumbles back. Before he can open his mouth, the (not) android jumps forward. It wraps its arms around him and turns him faster than he can gasp. Its hand presses over George’s mouth.

They freeze.

George can feel its rapid beating heart against his chest, its heavy breathing—his heavy breathing. He can’t believe he didn’t notice it before.

“Don’t move. Don’t talk. Don’t do anything that’ll draw attention or I’ll end you right here,” the guy whispers in his ear. It sends chills down George’s spine.

George struggles to nod. The guy shimies them toward the bed where he retrieves a rope from under the pillow that George has no idea was there. His neck is drawn against his shoulder and his back is pressed against him as he ties his wrists behind him. For a moment, the guy stands still, and George can see him looking down from the corner of his eye. 

Admittedly, the prospect of danger gives him a rush. George knows his life is on the line right now yet the adrenaline running through his veins is exhilarating and it makes his whole body feel like it's buzzing. He's never felt anything of the sort.

The guy holds his tied wrists with one hand and reaches back into the bed where he retrieves a blindfold from. George wonders where all these objects are coming from. The guy takes his hand off his mouth and just as George is about to speak, he ties the fold around his mouth.

"You're taking this a lot more calmly than I thought you would." The guy laughs. It's low and it has no right to sound as seductive as it does. George is glad the dim lighting covers the color on his face. "You're not even struggling."

With his hands still holding his wrists from behind, the guy moves forward, and George has no option but to follow along. He opens the balcony door. The chill breeze hits him point blank in the face, and George is suddenly aware of what's happening. It's only until now that his body acknowledges they're in danger. His heartbeat rises and his fingers start to tremble. 

The guy has a rope ladder hung from the balcony that points toward the gardens. It takes George by surprise when he throws him over his shoulder and starts climbing down. He'd scream if he could. It's not even because he's currently being kidnapped but mostly because they're hanging three stories high and one wrong move could have George helplessly tumbling to his death.

Thankfully, they reach the ground safely and the guy leads them forward. They walk for a long time. Enough that George has time to contemplate what's happening. For once, he has no fucking idea how he didn't notice his android wasn't really an android or how his father's messenger didn't notice either. Or maybe he was in on it. There's plenty of people in this wretched city that'd probably benefit from kidnapping the son of the manufacturer of androids in the Citadel. For a city that's supposed to have the highest quality of life and mimic those of mythical heaven-like places such as Olympus and the likes, there's too many despicable people who live here. That includes his father.

But George has no right to complain. Not when he knows the slums right under their beloved floating city are full of crime and murderers and convicts fighting each other to survive. His father had always told him to be grateful. Yet even knowing George is living the best life anyone could afford, there's never been a true moment that he’s acknowledged that he's alive. Not until now at least. 

Maybe it's at the edge of death that one can really appreciate living. George knows he should be panicking, and to some degree he is, but there's also that sick part of him that takes excitement from the situation he's landed himself in. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Thrilling.

They head past the gardens to the outskirts of his father's real estate, the one at the edge of the island. Only then does George realize this isn't one of his father's competitors. No. They'd never send someone to lead him toward the edge of the island unless they were intending to kill him. But George has a feeling that he'd be dead if that was the case.

His breathing quickens the closer they get toward the edge. He takes some comfort in knowing the barrier of the island would prevent them from falling over. That is, until he sees it… the broken gap on the supposedly unbreakable glass wall and the flying board with an unrecognizable figure waiting for them. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This can't be happening. Not right now.

George knows he wanted something thrilling in his life, something out of the ordinary to happen, but he hadn't planned it to be getting kidnapped by captors who were very obviously not from the Citadel. 

It's only now that he begins to squirm against the figure holding him. The guy’s grip tightens on his wrists and one hand goes to hold his arm to keep him from moving.

“Oh, now you decide to give me a hard time?” His breathy laugh is alluring. George hates that he kind of likes the sound of it. He tries to spit out the gag in his mouth and when it doesn’t work, he tries screaming but it comes out muffled and helpless. The sky is dark. The further they get from the city the less likely anybody will find them. He’s fucked.

“Took you long enough!” The guy with shabby raven hair poking out of his white bandana speaks.

“Just take him.” His captor passes him off to the raven-haired guy and he’s left wide-eyed as he peeks over the ledge. He can hardly see the small and decrepit buildings below, yet this is the first time he’s been so close. He gulps.

It’s only when they’re in the air, flying further and further from the island and descending into the hellish town below that his captor turns him to face him. His sharp gaze scrolls over George like he knows something he doesn’t. He takes off the gag. George does the first thing that comes to mind.

“OW! What the fuck!?” Dream jerks his hand away. He gapes at George with creased eyebrows. “You bit me.”

“Where are you taking me!? Get me off this thing immediately!” He pulls his wrists in every way he can behind him. The board jolts like it’s hit a bump. He trips over his own foot. George watches his life flash before his eyes. 

The guy takes hold of his waist and presses him against his chest before he can topple over the ledge. “Are you trying to get yourself killed!?”

He breathes out in relief. Then he starts squirming in his grasp. “Let me go!”

“Goddamn stop struggling. We need you in one piece.”

“Who the bloody hell are you!?”

The board comes to a stop. George turns and realizes they’ve arrived on land. He looks up. All he can see is the gigantic crater his city stands on floating hundreds of meters above them. His heart is pounding. His fingers grasp at the rope without hope. He feels like he’s on the verge of passing out.

He locks eyes with his captor. He’s still watching George. His blonde hair is messy and his shirt’s all crooked. It’s attractive, but it isn’t the time to be noticing things like that. George scowls and tries to kick him, but the guy dodges it easily. He laughs. George fumes.

“Come on, Dream. Stop messing around and let’s take him in.”

Dream.

What kind of a name is that?

“Fine, fine.” Dream takes hold of George’s wrists again and pushes him further.

“Are you going to tell me why you kidnapped me?”

“Shut up and walk,” the other guy says.

George glares. He’s about to demand answers when reality slaps him in the face. They’re in the slums.

The buildings are built out of rusted metal and large scraps. The stench of trash and chemicals penetrated in the air stabs his nostrils. His eyes nearly water from the putrid smells and the dirt all around.

This is it, he thinks. I’m going to die alone amongst criminals. They’ll never even find my body. I’ll have lived for nothing.

They stop in front of a building—if he can even call it that. This one’s made out of cement, but there’s cracks all over the walls and it looks like it's about to crumble. Dream pushes him in and sits him down in a lone chair at the corner of the room. There’s a small kitchen on the corner and two sad, twin beds beside it.

They both stare him down. He’s not sure what to say, so he asks the most logical question that comes to mind. “Are you guys going to kill me now?” 

“He’s scrawnier than I thought he’d be. Don’t they feed y’all up there?” The raven asks.

“You have no idea,” Dream answers for him. He backs away and slips off his shirt oh-so casually. George forces his gaze off him. “They’ve got these huge feasts for every meal of the day and they even snack, Sap. They have enough food to snack. ”

The guy, Sap, laughs. “Bastards.”

“Can anybody tell me what is going on!?”

“God, he’s annoying,” Dream says.

George’s face turns red and he stands up. Sap tries to move forward and push him back, but he slams his shoulder against him and goes to face Dream, who is barely turning back. He’s still shirtless, and he’s staring down at George without a single care in the world. “You break into my home. You pretend to be a robot. You kidnap me. And I’m the annoying one!? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Dream snorts. He crosses his arms. His chin tilts up, and he stares down at George like he’s better. Like he’s tired of seeing George’s face already even though he’s the one who abducted him. He leans closer, teasingly traces his gaze over him. Anyone else would’ve found it intimidating, but George refuses to back away even though his wrists are tied and he’s vulnerable. On the contrary, something inside him compels him to press forward.

“You’ve got balls. I’ll give you that,” Dream admits with a widening grin.

“Are you going to tell me what you want?” George speaks straight and without faltering. He’s not sure where this confidence is coming from, but he’s taking full advantage while he can.

Dream raises an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

They’re so close. George can feel Dream’s breath ghost his face. For a second, he thinks he sees Dream’s eyes lower. It makes his stomach coil with unbridled thrill. He feels at odds with himself. One side of him is aching to run away and return home, fearing the kinds of stories that he’s heard about the slums all his life. The other side of him seeks to know what it’s like to live like this—like he’s on the edge and at any moment, he could collapse.

“Oookay.” Sap steps beside them. He places his hands in between them and pushes them apart. “There’s way too much sexual tension in this room that I forgot we literally kidnapped the son of Nolfund Tech.” He faces George with a side grin that somewhat reminds him of Quackity every time he’s planning for trouble. He walks forward while George backs away until he slumps back into the chair. “Look, Gogy—”

“It’s George.”

“— your daddy is pretty well-known around here and not in a good way. All we want is for him to shut down his stupid factories, give us our land back, and stop poisoning us.”

George scoffs. “Poisoning you? I doubt my dad is the one doing that.”

“Are you fucking blind?” Dream states. “How do you think we ended up living in such a shit hole?”

“You did it to yourselves.”

Dream lets out an indignant laugh. “You think we’re willingly trashing our homes and deciding to live in these conditions? While you’re up there shitting caviar?”

George swallows. He’s not quite sure how to respond to that.

“It wasn’t always like this,” Sap adds.

Dream continues for him, “Before you daddy started his whole android business, at least we could actually breathe.” Then he scoffs. Pushes his hands into his pockets. Sends George a scorful gaze like it’s all somehow his fault. “But how would we know? We were basically born into it.”

George scrunches his eyebrows together. His shoulders fall limp. “Born into it?”

An unamused snort escapes Dream. “What? You think there’s no babies being born down here? Most of them die before they even reach a year. Half of the survivors get sick. The rest? Well, we do what we have to survive.” Then, he laughs, louder and with contempt. “While you’re up there complaining about your perfect life.”

George wants to snap back—tell him his life isn’t perfect. That he didn’t choose to be born into the family he did. That he’s not even happy. He doesn’t. Instead, he lowers his gaze and clenches his jaw.

Quietly, he asks, “What do you want from me?”

Dream scoffs. “Nothing. You’re worthless to us. You’re just a means to an end.”

A chime rings in Sap’s pocket. He pulls out his phone and turns on the screens. He grins. “We’ve got the phone number.”

“Perfect.” Dream crosses his arms and presses his shoulder against the wall. George catches sight of the scar running across his abdomen. His eyes trace up his figure and meet his gaze. Dream remains expressionless. Dream sneers and then looks toward Sap. “Call it so we can get this over with. I’m tired of having him here already.”

George huffs. He switches over to look at Sap. “He’s not going to shut down his factories.”

“If he cares about his son at all, he will,” Dream retorts.

George rolls his eyes and sends him a glare. “He cares more about his inventions. He might send off a team to look for me, but he won’t cave to your demands. Even if you threaten to kill me.”

Dream narrows his eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

“Call him. I’m not lying.” He bites his lip. He closes his eyes and remembers. He remembers being young in his father’s studio, watching him yell at his employees and critique the flaws of his latest models. He remembers facing one of them. He remembers grazing his finger across the scar on its left hand with amazement—the one his father’s designer had claimed added realism. His father had rejected the idea. He remembers his father yelling at him the first time he ran into a coffee table as a toddler and broke a vase. He remembers the anger in his eyes. How scared he’d been. He remembers picking up some of the pieces afterward, stashing them under his bed, and sliding them into different shapes on the floor during the late hours of the night because he was amazed at the way something broken could turn into a different thing altogether. His father never saw it that way—to him, George has always been broken, and he’s only failed at fixing him. “He doesn’t really care about me. He only wants a perfect son. He might as well build an android that looks like me.”

Dream stares at him for a moment. “Call him, Sapnap.”

Sapnap nods and starts dialing the number. It rings. And it rings. And it rings until finally… 

“Hello?”

“Joseph Nolfund.”

“Yes?”

Sapnap exchanges a gaze with Dream. Dream nods. “We have your son.” 

There’s a beat of silence. George’s breath hitches. “What’s he gotten himself into this time?”

It seems to catch Sapnap off-guard, and he pauses. Dream peels himself from the wall and snatches the phone. He talks, no, demands. “If you don’t shut down your company in the next 24 hours, we’ll kill him.” He marches toward George. His eyes widen as Dream reaches the phone forward. His eyes narrow. “Talk.”

Unsure of what else to say, he says, “Hey, Dad. Um,” his eyes flick upwards to look at Dream, unsurely.

Dream takes the phone back. “We’ll call back tomorrow. If the factories aren’t demolished by then, you’ll be getting a very unpleasant package in your front door.”

“Wait-”

He hangs up. He faces George, scorns, and then heads for the door. He pushes the phone into Sapnap’s hands and through his teeth, mumbles, “Watch him.” Then, he disappears.

Sapnap sighs and drops the phone on one of the beds. He walks to the fridge and opens it. George realizes the light’s not even on. There’s no electricity. He takes out an already open energy drink and takes a sip.

George shuffles, uncomfortably. “So you guys just… live like this?” 

“Don’t have an option,” Sapnap replies.

“And you grew up like this?”

“Not like we’ve known anything else.” He tosses the empty bottle into the trashcan and then leans against the wall to watch him.

George nibbles on the inside of his cheek and then says, “That’s… not right.”

Sapnap cracks up like George’s just told him the funniest joke ever. “No kidding.”

“Is Dream always this, uh, intense?” George asks, unsure of how else to describe it.

“Not really.” Sapnap shrugs. His arms fall limp at his sides and he looks out the open door. “It’s just cause you’re here.”

“I haven’t done anything though…”

“Doesn’t matter.” Sapnap laughs. “You’re dad’s an asshole. And you know what they say—the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree or whatever.”

George grits his teeth. His gaze falls to the floor. He toys with a loose string on the rope still holding back his wrists. “I’m not like him.”

“Even if you’re not, Dream doesn’t know that.”

“Do you hate me too?”

“Me? I don’t care. Just here to get the job done. You look like another daddy’s boy to me.”

Just as George is about to snap back, Dream strides through the door. He disregards George and instead keeps his stare on Sapnap. “Sam said the room’s ready for him, but one of us is going to have to stay with him.”

Sapnap scoffs and slumps onto the bed. He leans against the wall with his arms behind his neck and sends Dream a side-smirk. “All yours.”

“Oh, come on. ”

“He’s your problem.”

“He’s our problem.”

“I’m standing right here.”

“It was your idea,” Sapnap returns.

Dream groans. He runs a hand through his blond strands and turns toward George. “Fine. Whatever.” He trots over. George’s body tenses as Dream reaches his hand, but all he does is hold on to his forearm and pull him onto his feet.

“Where are we going?” George asks as Dream drags him out the door.

“Somewhere you can sleep obviously.”

They walk in silence. Dream’s slightly behind him as he clutches George’s forearm with a slight squeeze like he’s holding back. George’s hyper-aware of the way their sides collide every time he takes a wrong step.

Eventually, they reach another worn-out building, this one made out of unpainted cement. A guy, Sam, opens the door for them and waves them inside.

He takes one look at George as he heads in. “This Nolfund’s son?”

“Yeah,” Dream answers.

Sam leads them to a small room with a few blankets on the ground and says, “I’ll let you out in the morning. You know what to do in case of an emergency.”

“Won’t need it,” Dream replies as he lets go of George and points toward the corner. “Sit.”

George hesitantly follows the order. The guy mutters a few more words George doesn’t catch and then shuts the door. He hears the lock snap into place on the other side. There’s only one dim light bulb illuminating the room.

Dream sits on the other corner with his back flush against the wall. He narrows his gaze at George and says, “Don’t try anything funny or you’ll be hurting tomorrow.”

George huffs and arches an eyebrow, “What’s the worst you can do? Kill me? ”

It’s sarcastic. It’s bold. It’s a challenge. Dream scowls and turns away. George tries to contain his smirk. It feels like a victory.

He shuffles into a more comfortable position against the wall, but every time he raises his wrists, he feels the rope rash against his skin. He frowns and tries to loosen it with two fingers but it digs further in. He looks toward Dream, but the guy seems too distracted to notice anything. He bites his lip and decides to bear through it. Dream already hates him, and he’d rather not give him something else to taunt him over.

Time passes. George isn’t sure how long, but the more it draws on, the more obvious the strain on his wrists feels. He shifts again but fails to find any comfortable position.

“God, you squirm too much.”

George raises his gaze and meets Dream’s. He purses his lips and replies, “My wrists hurt,” before he can stop himself.

Dream stares at him. He looks away. “Well, boohoo.”

Grimacing, George replies, “Can you at least untie them? It’s not like I’ll be able to do anything.” His gaze traces down his figure. “You’re way bigger than me, I doubt I’d be able to take you.”

His head spins to glance at him. He raises his eyebrow and George realizes how suggestive his comment sounds. He chokes on his own words trying to recover but goes quiet when Dream stands up and approaches him.

They don’t break eye contact. Something in George’s stomach whirls the closer he gets—it feels like he’s walking at a sloth’s pace. When Dream is finally standing in front of him, he kneels down, his gaze still as intense as before, and leans forward. George loses his breath. Their faces are barely a breath apart. Dream’s arms reach on either side of him, and with an inexpressive face, he pulls on the end of the rope and unties them.

George remains still. He feels like he’s not breathing as Dream too gently brings his wrists in front of him. He only breaks eye contact to look down. George does too. His wrists are red and there are little red gashes from where the rope burned his skin. George shivers in surprise when Dream caresses his thumb across them. The texture of his hands is rough with callouses, but it’s a soothing touch.

He looks up again and Dream is staring. George wishes he could tell what he was thinking. His eyes take notice of his slightly cracked, pink lips again. He wonders what they feel like. The moment is over in a second. Dream lets go of his wrists and pulls away faster than George would’ve liked.

George can breathe again. He pulls his wrists toward his chest and stares at Dream’s back as he returns to his spot. He rubs the skin of his wrists with a feather’s touch, but it feels like nothing compared to when Dream touched them.

The silence weighs on them. It’s cold. George grabs the blanket below him and cocoons himself with it. Dream remains unbothered. He wonders how many nights he’s spent in the freezing winter, huddled in the dirty streets without warmth while George spent his own nights staring at his ceiling contemplating how much he hated his life.

It’s not fair. A loaded emotion akin to guilt rises in his chest. His gaze falls onto his left hand that’s poking out of the blanket. He stares at his watch. He runs a finger across the broken face.

4:04.

“Why do you carry around a broken watch?”

George looks up and realizes Dream is observing him like one would study a wild animal in the forest. He likes the way his eyes twinkle with slight curiosity. They look pretty like that.

“I don’t know. I like it, I guess.” George cringes. He’s gotten the question too many times, and he never knows how to properly explain how comforting his watch is to him.

Dream looks unimpressed with the answer. “It doesn’t work.” He states it like it isn’t obvious.

“I know, but I wouldn’t like it if it did.”

Dream laughs. He shakes his head and raises his eyebrows—rubs his right thumb over the skin between his left index and thumb. “That literally makes no sense.”

George’s mouth is dry. He pulls his hand away from his watch. He says the first thing that comes to mind as he stares at Dream’s somewhat amused and befuddled expression. “Your freckles.”

It catches Dream off-guard. “What?”

“It’s like your freckles.” He stumbles over his words. He pauses to gather his thoughts. Dream is still looking really confused. “In the Citadel, freckles are considered a deformity because clear skin is the beauty standard. People get work done on their faces to remove them, and if you don’t, people look at you in disgust because it’s making a statement that you don’t care about your appearance.”

“I’m not following.” 

George shrugs. His next sentences come out quieter and more nervous. “I think freckles are beautiful. They’re not flaws. They’re authentic.”

Dream is quiet for a moment. It riles up George’s nerves because he feels like he’s made the situation awkward. But then Dream bursts into wheezes. He doesn’t expect it, but when he hears it, it sounds like the prettiest laugh he’s ever heard. He has a dimple on his right cheek and his smile as he laughs is so bright George wishes he could take a picture. Why does he look so beautiful? “They’re just freckles, George. ”

His name—it sounds nice coming from Dream. There’s no harshness in his tone this time. It’s true and pure and amused, makes George think that maybe Dream doesn’t hate him as much as he makes it seem. He wonders if it’s just wishful thinking.

“They’re not up there. Everyone’s obsessed with looking perfect. Everything’s plastic.”

There’s something unreadable in Dream’s eyes. But it’s not bad. On the contrary, George thinks he quite likes it.

“I’ll admit, you’re an interesting one.”

“Is that your way of apologizing?”

“Watch it. You’re still the one kidnapped here, even if your wrists aren’t tied.”

“Wouldn’t you like to tie them again.” He doesn’t think before he speaks. George’s face definitely turns red, but what shocks him the most is that Dream peels his eyes off George and looks off to the side. His cheeks almost look flush with color. George finds himself smiling, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“Shut up,” Dream replies. He lies down and closes his eyes. “Go to sleep.”

“You’re not going to watch me?”

“I’m not going to waste a good night’s sleep on you.” Dream opens one eye and offers a coy grin. “Besides, like you said, I’m way bigger than you. You couldn’t take me if you tried.” Then he turns his back to George, leaving him speechless and with a hot face.

The next morning, George awakes to Sam unlocking and opening the door. He flutters his eyes open and spots Dream and him by the door talking quietly. When he sits up, their attention turns toward him.

“What?” he asks.

Dream huffs and signals for him to follow him out. Not having much of an option, George follows closely behind. He could, technically, try to make a run for it but considering he has no idea where he is and people probably aren’t fond of his father, he’s not sure how well that’d go for him.

The sun is burning down on them and all the trash surrounding them. George doesn’t think he’s ever felt closer to hell than being down here. Beads of sweat form at the back of his neck, but he refuses to complain seeing as Dream would only continue calling him a daddy’s boy if he does. He might not care much for Dream’s opinion, but he certainly doesn’t want to give him more ammo to embarrass him with.

George recognizes the path they’re taking as the one they took last night. They’re nearly back at Dream and Sapnap’s place when their path is blocked by three large figures that rival Dream’s own build and height. He stops in front of George, and for a moment, they just face each other.

Judging by the tense expressions on the people in front of them, George guesses they’re not on good terms with Dream.

“What do you want now, Ryan?”

The middle guy, who George assumes is Ryan, narrows his eyes at Dream before they trace over to George. He shuffles on his feet, feeling a lot more intimidated by these guys than by Dream.

“You really thought that we wouldn’t notice you bringing Nolfund’s son down here?”

Dream scoffs. He crosses his arms and exchanges a glance with George. His gaze is sharp. Frankly, it’s irritating. George feels like he’s back at step one with him. Dream turns away.

“Huh. I thought you’d be too stupid to notice, but my bad. Now if you excuse us. We have somewhere to be.” He strides forward and pushes Ryan aside with his shoulder.

George tries to follow, but Ryan’s hand gripping his forearm pulls him back. Dream takes no time to notice before he turns on his heel. There’s no play in his gaze anymore. It’s near murderous.

“Let him go.”

Ryan laughs in his face. He raises an eyebrow and gives him an onceover. George feels the need to get away before one of them snaps. “You’re oddly protective of the Devil’s son. What? Did he suck your dick or something?”

Dream scowls. Ryan’s grip tightens on his forearm and George suddenly feels like he’s holding his breath.

“Oh please, Dream. What are you even going to do with him? Blackmail Nolfund for what? Little things that’ll barely make a difference?” Ryan steps closer to Dream, pulls his head over his shoulder, and in his ear, he whispers, “I have something so much better planned for him.”

For a moment, Dream’s silent, and George’s stomach dropped. Is he really going to let Ryan take him? But then, when he hears Dream speak through his teeth, he realizes his tone is on the verge of exploding—like he was trying to gain a grip on his fury before he replied. “I’m gonna repeat myself one more time. Let. Him. Go.”

Ryan cackles again. George tries to unlatch his arm from his grip but Ryan pulls him closer so he can’t squirm. His gaze is threatening on Dream. He tilts his head and challenges him. “Or what?”

It happens too fast. The guy on the right of Ryan steps forward with a menacing grin and Dream pulls a revolver out at a second’s notice. The bullet is in and out through his neck in less than the time it takes George to gasp. He’s is too shocked to close his eyes. All he sees is the stream of blood trailing down his neck and he hears the sounds of choking before the body drops on the dirt.

George’s heartbeat is loud in his ears. He can hardly breathe as he watches the body squirm momentarily and then go limp. He’s never witnessed such a barbaric act in front of his eyes. He hardly recognizes the Dream in front of him, and his fight or flight is telling him to get as far away from him as he can.

Ryan hasn’t shifted whatsoever. George hears someone’s scrambling feet and then realizes the guy to the other side of Ryan is gone. Dream points the smoking barrel toward Ryan. He takes one step forward and the barrel is against his forehead. George squeezes his eyes tight and braces himself for the explosion.

Nothing happens.

Ryan lets him go, and George’s too shocked to even move at first until Dream grabs his arm and pulls him against his side. When George opens his eyes, he notices Ryan’s wicked smirk first. He doesn’t understand how neither of them are reactive to the bloody body lying beside them. How common is death down here that they don’t even blink an eye at it?

“Dream!” he hears Sapnap’s voice behind them. “What the fuck?” Sapnap says as he approaches, probably noticing the dead body. “What happened?”

Ryan doesn’t say anything. He gives them a two-finger salute and then backs away. He puts his hands in his pockets, turns around and strolls away casually. George can faintly hear him whistling in the distance. He has no idea what just happened.

“Dream?” Sapnap steps beside them and lowers the barrel of Dream’s gun.

Dream locks eyes with him. His gaze softens, and he seems to snap out of it. He glances back at George and then grimaces. He pushes him away and then turns to continue walking. Sapnap glimpses at George in confusion, but George has no idea what to say. Sapnap seems to notice this, and he sighs and nods his head toward Dream.

George’s heartbeat is barely going back to normal, and he hasn’t got a single clue of how to feel about everything that’s happening. It’s all going by too quickly. They follow behind him until they reach the place.

“You done with your drama queen act?” Sapnap asks the moment they walk through the door.

Dream huffs and spins in his spot to face them. His cocky demeanor is back, and he’s pretending George doesn’t exist again by avoiding his eyes. “What do you have for me?”

“Nolfund called,” Sapnap states. “He refused the deal.”

For a moment, Dream looks absolutely shocked. Then, he narrows his eyes. “What do you mean? He wants to leave his spoiled brat down here?”

“He threatened us to bring him his son back or else he’d be sending forces down here to destroy anyone and anything until his son was found.”

“Is he fucking stupid?”

Sapnap shrugs.

They both look toward George. He looks in between them nervously before replying, “I told you he wasn’t going to take the deal.”

“So he’s willing to let you die? Just like that?” Sapnap asks.

George groans and covers his mouth with his hands. He slumps on the chair he’d been tied down on yesterday. He leans his elbows on his knees and sighs. He can’t decide what’s worse, living at the Citadel without a purpose or being brought down to the slums where death is a casual deal and makes him realize he lives in a hell in disguise with how many bad people live up there. Is it any different from down here?

“He cares about his company first. He pretends he cares about me, but it’s all for show, really. Maybe if I was the son he wanted, he’d care more, but I’m not.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Sapnap says, “Damn. I knew he was an asshole, but I didn’t think he’d treat his own son like that too.”

George shrugs. “It’s not just him. That’s the Citadel for you. Very few people care about anyone but themselves. Everyone’s a fake.” He thinks before muttering, “At least down here, you guys are…” he cringes at his word use, “authentic, I guess.” He glances at Dream for a moment and the revolver beside him before he turns away. He wonders if he knows what the guys would’ve done to him or if Dream acted irrationally. Something spurs him toward the first option, and with the way Dream defended him, even if it wasn’t exactly for him, he can’t help but think better of the guy even though he’s just murdered someone. He wonders if that makes him a bad person.

“What are we going to do?” Sapnap asks Dream.

George isn’t sure what takes over him, but as the room fades into silence, he replies, “I can help.”

Both guys spin their heads in surprise.

“What?” Sapnap says.

“I, uh, I can help,” he replies, more hesitantly this time around. His eyes meet Dream’s whose gaze remains hard. “If you guys want to bring his business down, you need to start by bringing down the largest factory. Make sure your goal is loud and clear.”

Sapnap laughs. “Are you stupid? We can’t get even a meter close to the factory without getting murdered on sight by the android security. It’s impossible.”

“If you turn them off, you can.”

Sapnap doesn’t look a tad bit impressed. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

George finds himself sighing. He hopes he doesn’t regret this, but for the first time, he feels like he’s doing something for someone other than himself. “I’m a programmer for my dad’s company. If I get into the server room in my dad’s office at the Citadel, I can freeze every android function long enough that you get in and plant explosives.”

“And why would you help us? ” Dream finally speaks, his tone holding no emotion besides mistrust.

Their eyes are locked on each other. It’s a challenge. George thinks his words over carefully, knowing that his answer will determine a turning point—not just in his situation but in George and Dream, too. 

“The Citadel is full of fakes and careless people. They throw shit down here and turn around and pretend to be above others, my father included,” George answers truthfully. “I don’t want to end up like him.”

“And you would throw your life away for a couple of strangers who you pity?” Dream asks with a snort. He narrows his eyes. “Either you're a massive idiot or you’re spouting bullshit.”

“Who says I pity you?” His answers comes through so fast, it makes it obvious he’s not lying. And he isn’t. “You’ve obviously gone through shit, yet you’re still standing tall and willing to put yourself in more danger for a better life.” His throat feels dry. He holds his gaze on Dream. “You’ve held true to your morals. I’ve always wanted to be like that. But I’ve never known how to.”

Dream doesn’t answer. His expression remains the same. Sapnap clears his throat and says, “I have a proposition. If George really does want to help us, let’s let him. If he goes through with his promise, we’ll figure out where to go from there. If he ends up lying… well, let’s just say that we can make sure we have a failsafe that won’t even give him time to regret it.”

George and Dream stare at each other. Neither wills to back down. Without removing his gaze, George replies, “Deal.”

For a second, Dream doesn’t say anything, so Sapnap asks, “What about you, Dream?”

“Fine,” Dream finally says. And then he unlocks his gaze and takes a deep breath.

“Perfect! Glad we’re all on the same page,” Sapnap says. “We can do it tonight. I know where we can get our failsafe.” Without wasting any time, he backs out of the room, leaving Dream and George by themselves in silence.

The room feels hot—and it’s not just because of the open windows letting the burning heat of the sun penetrate the room. 

Dream shuffles across the room and opens a chest. He takes out the white android outfit he’d worn the day before. George can’t take his eyes off him as he shreds his t-shirt aside. They trace down his figure and stop at the nasty slash marked on the side of his stomach. It’s paler than the rest of his skin and there’s tiny gashes crossing perpendicular to the old gash, probably from the stitches that kind of wound would need.

“See something you like?” Dream asks. 

George’s gaze traces back up his figure until he notices the impish smile and little twinkle of mischief glazing his eyes. Dream pulls down his pants, and George keeps his eyes atop. He doesn’t smile, but he certainly feels his cheeks warm up without his consent.

It’s obvious Dream notices from the way he laughs, and his grin grows wider. Remembering how he’d reacted yesterday with his suggestive comment, George smiles, looks him straight in the eye and replies, “Maybe. It’s pretty long. Never seen anything quite like it.”

Dream’s laughter fades, but the twink of mischief in his eye doesn’t. He raises an eyebrow, “What is, George?” His voice is lower, and there’s a hint of suggestion. Of a challenge.

Without thinking further into it, George pushes himself off his chair. Slowly, he steps toward Dream, not once taking his gaze off him. It’s become a game at this point. The eye contact. It’s sharp and heavy—full of pent-up emotion neither is willing to acknowledge. Whoever backs down loses. George refuses to lose.

George stops when he faces Dream. They’re barely a foot apart. He keeps his hand low as he reaches forward, and he thinks he sees Dream’s eyes widen the smallest bit. When his finger grazes the protruding scar dangerously close to his v-line, he feels Dream flinch. It’s a victory for George.

He breaks eye contact and looks down at it. Dream doesn’t stop him from moving his finger down the line. “Your scar,” he finally murmurs.

“What about it?”

“It’s beautiful,” George admits. There’s no hint of embarrassment in his tone. It’s one of the most beautiful marks George has ever seen, and he’s not afraid to say it to his face.

“Your opinion on beauty is quite an oddity.”

George’s grin spreads. His finger stops, and he looks back up where Dream’s gaze is still piercing into him. But this time it’s not anger. “It’s the truth.”

After a moment of silence when it’s just Dream and George staring at each other, standing close enough George feels the heat radiating off his body with George’s finger gentle on the scar in Dream’s stomach, a low grunt-like noise escapes Dream. He says, “I haven’t figured you out yet, George.”

George tilts his head playfully. He shifts closer. Dream’s breath is hot on his face. He glimpses at his lips and then back to his eyes. Dream mimics the motion. “Who says you have to?” he whispers.

And without another second, Dream has George pinned against the wall. His lips are like fire and glowing embers. It’s harsh and hurried—the way he bites into George’s mouth and sticks his tongue in without remorse. The sting ignites every part of his body and the heavy groan that slips from in between his lips causes Dream to press him further against the wall.

His hand grips George’s wrists and holds them up above his head. His body cages George in like the gates of hell and oh how George wants to burn with him. His other hand reaches into his shirt, and his touch leads a trail of blazes across the skin of his stomach and toward his back.

Their mouths part from each other for a second. Dream’s eyes are lidded, and he’s panting through his mouth. His pupils are blown and his cheeks are stained in red. He’s staring at George like he’s the last person left alive. His body presses closer, and George feels how oh-so obviously turned on he is. His bare skin is feverish against him. George is at the edge of combusting on the spot. 

After a second, their lips are back on each other. Dream more eagerly pushes his leg in between George’s and grinds upward, causing a down-right obscene sound to slip from his mouth. Dream’s grip on his wrists tightens.

Just as their kiss deepens, they hear a high-pitched shriek come from the door, and Dream instantly jerks away from George like he’s just burned himself. George is barely catching his breath, looking around disoriented and confused until he realizes Sapnap is at the door staring at them in disbelief.

He opens and closes his mouth several times before he puts his hand over his eyes and says, “Here, just take it and get yourselves together for God’s sake,” as he raises his hand to show them the weird-looking metallic bracelet he’s just retrieved.

Dream takes it, and Sapnap rushes out of the room with his eyes squished tight and almost running into the door frame.

The silence is heavy and awkward. George clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair to tame it. Dream looks just as messy and disheveled as he probably looks too. He stands facing away from George for a moment too long.

George clears his throat. “That was-”

“A mistake,” Dream finishes.

He feels his heart leap through his throat, and he’s unable to say anything. Dream turns back and starts putting on the clothes he’d gotten out a few minutes earlier. He doesn’t say a word as he does, and for the rest of the time, George remains fixed against the wall staring off with a scowl, his fists clenched right behind him. 

It takes about ten minutes of Dream getting ready in silence and George standing against the wall without so much of a peep for Sapnap to return. He looks in between them suspiciously but decides to push the topic aside, though George doesn’t miss the tiny grin that slips through his expression when he sees Dream.

“What’s the bracelet for?” Dream asks.

“This,” Sapnap grabs it from the table, raises it and glances at George, “is our failsafe.”

He slips the bracelet into George’s wrist as he watches with intrigue. “What’s it do?”

“With a press of a button, it’ll detonate,” he replies with a raised eyebrow.

George’s face pales and he looks in between the bracelet and him.

“You’ll be fine, obviously, so long as you don’t betray us.” Sapnap grins.

“Reasurring…” 

“Anyway, uh,” Sapnap glances over at Dream who is faced away from them still getting ready, this time putting on a black wig. “Let’s give Dream some time to get ready while we talk outside.”

He pushes him out before George can say anything. Outside, Sapnap crosses his arm and stares at him. George doesn’t think he’s seen him look this serious since they literally kidnapped him.

He furrows his eyebrows and asks, “What?”

“Look, George. I don’t know you very well, obviously,” he sighs and makes a face akin to a cringe and a frown. George doesn’t think he likes what he’s going to say next, but Sapnap surprises him. “But I trust you.”

George gapes for a moment before stumbling out an awkward, “Huh?”

Sapnap laughs and shakes his head. “I trust you because Dream trusts you.”

“But… he hates me.” 

“He might say that but seeing as he literally let you walk around like you’re an old friend on a visit, I really doubt that.” Sapnap laughs again and then leans against the wall to his right. His expression softens and he looks to the side. “Dream’s been the only family I’ve had all these years. Trust me when I say, he sees something in you, even though he might not show it.”

George shuffles uncomfortably and scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t know if I believe that…” 

“Well, it’s the truth. What it looks like to me is that he’s denying what he sees in you because up until now we—he’s—been convinced that people from the Citadel are like the devil’s spawns. So meeting you and realizing you push his buttons so much? Of course, he’s going to be in denial.”

George opens his mouth to protest, but Sapnap talks over him.

“And don’t try to deny it. You guys were literally,” he puts a finger in his mouth and fakes a gag, “about to do the dirty at our shared place.”

His face grows hot and his eyes fall away from Sapnap, opting toward staring at the distant floating island towering above the slums. He swallows.

“All I mean to say is…” Sapnap sighs, like the words are physically enduring for him to utter. “If you end up betraying us, I don’t think he’ll be capable of pulling the trigger on you.”

George’s heart drops, and he turns to Sapnap again, trying to detect any dishonesty to his statement. He finds none, and he can’t tell whether his stomach feels sick with thrill or trepidation.

“But Dream is my brother. And if you do try anything stupid while you two are up there.” Sapnap narrows his eyes. There’s no mercy in his expression, and George almost feels a chill under his frightening glare. “ I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger on you. You have my word on that.”

George is stunned into silence. After a second, Sapnap’s grimace shifts into a grin and he pats George’s shoulder a few times. “But anyway, I’m happy for you two.” He signals toward the door. “Let’s go check on Dream.”

He has absolutely no idea what’s just happened, so he only manages to push his feet forward after standing frozen for so long. Back inside, Dream’s put on his full white android outfit and his black wig is slicked back into an elegant style. He turns back to them and raises an eyebrow when he notices George scared out of his wits, but he says nothing on it. Instead, he asks, “Are we ready?”

“Yep! I’ve got Sam ready with the explosives and all the squad on command. We’ll be heading off to the plant while you two head to the Citadel.” Sapnap hands off a headpiece to Dream as he walks forward to gather his own stuff.

Dream turns to George with minimal emotion in his expression. “Let’s get it done.”

* * *

Sneaking into the island was an easy task thanks to Dream’s floating board. Sneaking into the Citadel? Not so easy.

It’d gone okay—thanks to the dark shades and hat on George that mostly helped them go unnoticed. At least up until the part where they arrived at his father’s company building.

“Walk faster, damn it.” Dream keeps his head forward as he whispers to George.

They stroll through the streets of the urban district trying to keep a low profile by ducking through less crowded places. Unfortunately, seeing as they’re at the core of the Citadel, there are still a significant number of folks scattered throughout window-shopping and walking with their androids carrying bags and other things.

“You can’t walk ahead of me because people will look,” George snaps, also keeping his eyes ahead of them. He can see his father’s building peaking above the other buildings surrounding it. “ Androids don’t walk ahead of their masters. ”

Dream scoffs, clearly biting back a remark. George grins in victory.

They walk past a family of four waiting for their android to park their car beside the curb. Past two teenage girls with an android carrying about a dozen bags nearly up to his eye level. Past a nanny android walking two kids wearing their school uniforms and backpacks.

“You guys are pathetic,” Dream comments between his teeth.

George snorts. “Yeah, well, I can’t argue with you on that one. Citadel residents can’t even wipe their asses without their androids beside them.” 

When they reach his father’s building at precisely 12:04 PM, George knows the guard up front will just be getting into his noon break. He’ll leave the entrance solely protected by the facial recognition machine up front which will let in George without being spotted by an actual person.

What he doesn’t expect is to run into two figures as soon as he’s in through the circular automatic doors. Even worse is the way he stares straight at them as soon as he sees them, and they don’t take long to recognize him even with his disguise.

“George!?” Karl exclaims.

“What— How!? We thought you were kidna—” George puts his hand over Quackity’s mouth before he can keep talking.

They stare at him like he’s insane as he pulls them toward a hallway he knows is always empty. Dream hurries behind him and then shuts the door. Karl and Quackity look at George and then at Dream and then at George again, their mouths agape.

“Look, guys, I don’t have time to explain but you can’t tell anyone I’m here.”

“What the honk do you mean, George!? Your dad’s been looking for you everywhere! You’ve been on the news for ages now!” Karl exclaims.

“Look, guys—” George groans and paces in front of them, running both hands through his hair. Dream remains quiet beside him, but his posture is tense.

“We don’t have time for this, George,” Dream mutters.

“He’s alive!?” Quackity screeches and points, hiding behind Karl who looks just as horrified.

“He’s my—” George glances at Dream and then groans again. “Okay, look, it doesn’t matter. What matters is we’re pulling off a mission for a very good cause and my father can’t know about it.”

“Why? What? How?” Karl asks.

George takes a deep breath and stands akimbo staring at his two idiot friends with a frown. “Please, guys, this is important to me. Just— he can’t know.” He looks at them with a pleading gaze.

The look on their faces soften. Quackity lets go of Karl and sighs. His eyebrows crease and he seems conflicted. Karl doesn’t look any better.

“What the fuck man?” Quackity says as he looks in between George and Dream. “ Carajo, George, you know what? Fine. I’ve never seen you so fucking determined in your life so I can only guess you’re doing this for a good reason.”

George looks toward Karl who rolls his eyes. “Fine, dude, we won’t tell, but you better come back and explain everything, okay?”

He smiles so wide his cheeks hurt, and despite not being a physical person, George can’t help but pull them both into a big hug. “Thanks, guys.”

He pulls away soon after and looks at Dream. There’s an unrecognizable expression on his face, one George hasn’t seen from him, and it sends warm flutters through his stomach. He nearly feels himself blush with the intense gaze Dream has on him, but he pushes it to the back of his head and nods toward the elevator. “Let’s go. “

The next few minutes pass by a breeze. They hurry in through the hallway in the server room. George glances at Dream with an excited grin and exclaims, “It’s just at the end of the hallway!”

His body is buzzing with the adrenaline rush of what he’s about to do. It feels like all his life has led up to this moment. George has never felt more certain about something.

Just as the door comes into his view and his smile widens, everything falls apart.

“Stop right there!” someone yells behind them, and they turn to a group of men wearing black vests and with their guns drawn.

George freezes in place, and beside him, Dream seems to move forward like he’s about to attack, but George grips his wrist and holds him back. He knows that if Dream tries anything, they’ll shoot without a second thought.

The guards pull apart, and in between, his father exits. He’s wearing his posh white suit and he has a gentle grin playing out on his expression. His father opens his arms as he stops a few meters in front and says, “George! When I saw your name pop up in the registry, I thought it must’ve been a glitch, but God, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Dad?” He furrows his eyebrows. “I—”

“Take him down,” his father orders, and Dream doesn’t even have time to react before they have him pinned against the wall. George knows Sapnap is listening through the coms, yet he hopes he doesn’t think it was his intention to get caught. Seeing as he is still alive, he supposes there’s something keeping him from pressing his failsafe.

His father pulls his arms around him and hugs him as if he’s missed him. George knows for a fact that he hasn’t. He’s doing this for a reason, but he can’t tell why. Over his father’s shoulders, he sees Dream being pulled away by the guards.

Dream stares at him with a wide gaze that breaks his heart, and George can see his finger hovering over his failsafe button, but he ultimately doesn’t press it, instead bares his teeth and grimaces like George is the scum of the earth.

“Did they blackmail you?” his father asks as he pulls away. 

“What?”

“I don’t know why he’s brought you here, but it has to be for a reason. What were they going to make you do? Detonate the building? Threaten me with you?”

“No— I—” his voice goes dry. He looks at Dream, and then at his father. “I don’t know. He just told me to take him here.” He can’t tell the truth. If he does, there’s no way he’ll be able to go through with the plan. When he sees the way Dream’s expression falls from anger to broken confusion, his heart throbs.

His father turns toward Dream and grimaces. “Take him to the jury immediately.” He narrows his eyes.

George’s heart drops. He looks in between his father and then Dream. “Wait, but dad—” The guards have pulled Dream away before he can say anything, and he tries to run toward him to stop them, but his father’s android grips his shoulders and keeps him in place. 

“I don’t know what they’ve done to you, George. But you’re not in the best state of mind. You need to rest, right now.”

“But he didn’t hurt me! No, Dream, wait!” He watches with wide eyes as the guards hold Dream steady in between him. His expression has gone cold again. George can’t read it. His eyes ache as he watches the elevator doors shut. 

Behind him, his father puts his hand over his shoulder. “It’s okay, George. You’re safe now.”

* * *

Dream has always known he was an idiot. He’s impulsive, emotionally-driven, and without Sapnap as his conscience, he’d probably already be dead in a ditch from confronting all the people who despise him in the slums.

Now? He’s a fucking idiot whose about to die because his emotions yet again got the best of him and he trusted the wrong person.

He hates George. He hates him because he was born in the Citadel. He hates him for being the son of the man who ruined his and so many other people’s lives. He hates him for being so fucking pretty and effortlessly perfect. He hates him for the way he isn’t the asshole he thought he’d be when he first kidnapped him. He hates him for the way he spouts romantic shit like calling Dream’s freckles and scars beautiful. He hates him for the way his lips feel so soft and the skin of his waist is so smooth and so perfect under Dream’s touch. He hates him for the way he’s made Dream trust again, to believe that maybe people can be different after all. He hates him for the way he makes him feel like he’s at the edge of a cliff of dangerous emotions—for the way he can’t even manage to hurt him even though he’s only known him for barely a few days and he knows he’s betrayed him.

Dream hates the way George feels like the piece of his life that’s been missing for so long. But Dream was wrong. He was wrong and that’s the worst part of it. It’s not even that he’s about to die, it’s that he built this fantasy narrative for him that had made him hope for the first time in a long time. Hope that he could actually live a happy life—not just one of mere surviving.

And now, he’s lost both his hope and his life.

As he sits in the lone chair in the middle of the execution room, he realizes that he’s been right all along. These people are fucking monsters without remorse. Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

They live in canopy beds made of gold and silver and consume their riches while the people under them die of famine and illness. They don’t fucking care about anyone but themselves. And now, the biggest regret of Dream’s life is that he hasn’t done something to destroy their lives.

He lost contact with Sapnap nearly a day ago. His best friend’s last words had been his panicked thoughts on how the failsafe button on George wasn’t working. Dream knows why. He made sure it wouldn’t work with Sapnap. It felt wrong—lying to his best friend. Yet even now, after George’s spit on his face and thrown him into the lion’s den, he doesn’t regret it.

He hates it.

But he wouldn’t let anything happen to George, even if Dream’s the one with the blade against his neck.

“Do you have anything to say about your crimes?” The judge’s voice comes through the intercoms.

Dream grimaces. His eyes trace the lifeless humanoid machine beside him. He grits his teeth and clenches his jaws. Behind him, his wrists struggle against the handcuffs so bad they bleed. He looks straight into the camera, and he grins, “I regret nothing.”

“Very well, Dream. You are hereby sentenced to death for your crimes. Any last words?”

With nothing left to lose, Dream grins wickedly. He leans into the blade in front of him, feels it burn against his neck from the slight cut it mades, and he says, “Fuck the Citadel.”

He closes his eyes and waits for the blade to slice through his neck. He breathes in and out. Makes peace with his end. 

But… it never comes.

Dream opens his eyes, and he realizes the android is unmoving. It’s silent for a moment before the judge asks, “What’s going on?”

He hears mumbling behind the intercom, and the longer he waits, the more confused he grows. That is until the door opens and George’s friends dash inside. Dream watches them in confusion as one of them unlocks his cuffs and the other pushes the non-functioning android away.

“What the hell?” Dream asks.

“No time to explain, George’s put all the androids on stand-still, but it won’t be long before they wake. We need to get you out of here,” Karl explains and pulls him through the door.

The other one—Quackity—looks both ways and then signals for them to follow.

Dream hardly processes what’s going on until he’s outside, past the knocked out guards he assumes Karl and Quackity took care of, being pulled into a getaway car that dashes down the street as soon as they’re in.

“George? He did this?”

“Of course,” Karl replies. “What? Did you think he’d just let you die?”

“I—” Dream frowns, no longer able to finish his sentence. His brain feels like it’s not working, and he doesn’t speak for most of the ride. Their driver, Callahan, is apparently a mute, and Karl and Quackity only speak in hushed whispers every so often.

Eventually, Dream asks, “Where’s George?”

“Probably still at his father’s place.”

“You left him!?” he instantly says. “But—” 

He notices the way Karl and Quackity exchange a knowing glance, and Dream chokes on his own words. Karl laughs. “He’ll be okay. Don’t worry about him.”

The words don’t reassure him any more, and when they arrive at the border, he realizes Sapnap is there with his floating board. He’s grinning like a madman as Dream gets out of the car, and the first thing he does is pull him into a tight embrace. 

“God damn it, Dream, why would you do that? You almost got yourself killed!”

“The failsafe wouldn’t have worked anyway, Sap. They still would’ve killed me,” Dream laughs into his shoulder.

When Dream pulls away, he looks toward Quackity and Karl. “I, well, need to thank you two. That was, well, really unexpected,” he admits.

Quackity rolls his eyes, “You better, dude. We’re probably on the wanted list for helping a convict escape.”

“And for aiding in the destruction of a Nolfund plant,” Karl points out.

Dream’s head snaps toward Sapnap in shock. “It worked?”

Sapnap’s grin widens. “Of course it did! But it’s only the beginning. We won’t let these fools control us anymore.”

Dream smiles just as wide.

Quackity clears his throat. “Well, uh, I guess we’ll just have to get ourselves some tickets to another city. If they don’t catch us at the border that is…” 

“They definitely will,” Karl mutters.

Dream and Sapnap exchange a knowing glance. “You know, the slums aren't as bad as they make it seem.”

The two look somewhat puzzled before they catch onto what he’s saying.

“They’re actually worse,” Sapnap points out. “But you guys are welcome there. As long as you don’t mind the barely breathable air and crappy food.”

Karl giggles. “You know what? That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“Sounds like a horrible one to me,” Quackity mumbles, but Karl slaps his arm.

He then proceeds to grin at Sapnap and says, “We accept your offer.”

* * *

Dream doesn’t hear from George even days after he gets back. He doesn’t even know what’s going on up there—whether he’s even okay. He supposes his father can’t hurt him. He wouldn’t hurt his own son, would he?

Though it doesn’t keep Dream from worrying any less. Sapnap and the other two reassure him often.

(“He’ll be okay, Dream. They can’t do anything to him,” Sap says.

“It’s fine. George knows how to handle his father better than anyone,” Karl tells him.

“George is a pendejo. But he’s also a brat, so I’m sure he’ll get out of whatever hole he’s in,” Quackity adds.)

And although they mean well, Dream can’t help it. After he’s had so much time with his thoughts, he’s come to reflect on so many things about himself. Most of all, he’s come to realize he wants George to be a part of his life. He wants George to be here with him. He wants to kiss him when he wants and touch him every morning—wake up and see his smile at dawn.

He sounds like a lovestruck fool, but it’s true. Dream’s never felt this way before. 

It’s a humid night nearly a week later when someone knocks on their door. Sapnap opens it, and the moment Dream hears his voice, he’s off his bed and pushing Sapnap to the side. He stands frozen for what seems like forever, staring at his dark gaze in shock.

A smile rises on George’s face and he asks, “So? Can I at least get a thank you?” 

Then, Dream’s got his arms around George and he’s pulling him in like he’s the only person that matters in the world. He buries his nose into his neck and he breathes him in. Every part of him—Dream loves every part of him.

“Woah,” George utters at first before his arms wrap around him too. “What happened to hating me?”

Dream wheezes and then pulls back, searching his eyes and smiling from ear to ear. His palms caress up his neck and to his cheeks. He holds him there for a second, just making sure he’s here and well. “I guess you’re tolerable, after all.”

George stares at him for a bit and then says, “Who are you and what have you done with the sexy, badass blonde who kidnapped me?”

He laughs again and then pushes their foreheads together. George smiles too, and he traces down his face and to his lips.

“Your freckles.”

Dream’s chest fills with warmth. He never wants to let go. “What about them?”

“They’re beautiful,” George murmurs.

“You’re beautiful,” Dream says and then presses their lips together.

It’s soft this time. He takes his time with it. Feels George’s breath against his and their bodies feel so perfect flushed together.

Behind them, Quackity exclaims, “Disgusting! Get a room!”

“I agree, for once,” Sap adds.

“Thirded,” Karl says.

Dream and George laugh and then open their eyes to look at each other once more. Dream has a feeling this is the start of a new era for him, and for once, he can’t help but look forward to his happiness with George by his side.