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George and Sapnap are still sitting in the Discord call when Dream flops back down in his chair, reaching automatically for his headphones. They're arguing about something, voices overlapping until they're nearly indistinguishable, but when Dream unmutes and clears his throat, they both go completely silent.
He doesn't say anything, just lets out a shaky sigh; almost immediately, George says, "Oh, Dream," and Sapnap mutters a curse.
"Shit, dude," he offers, "that sucks."
"Want us to come over?" George asks, and then, as an afterthought, "I can bring drinks?"
Sapnap's voice crowds over George’s. “It’s okay, man, you’ll pass it next time. Lots of people fail their first test, you probably didn’t even mess up that bad.” A pause. “Maybe you did, I dunno.”
“Shut up, Swipnip,” George snarks. “Dream, wanna watch bad horror movies? I’ll make popcorn.”
“You always burn it to hell,” Sapnap argues. “Did you seriously offer to bring drinks? Dude.”
“Shut up,” George says. Dream can hear him rolling his eyes. “Dream?”
“Guys,” Dream says, pitching his voice soft and sad. “I passed.”
A long silence. Then Sapnap whoops so loudly his mic screeches horribly, making Dream wince, and George yells, almost as loudly, “What the hell!”
Dream snorts, hiccups from the effort of holding himself back, before cracking- he howls with laughter, and it only takes a moment for the other two to join in, a cacophony of noise.
“I passed!” he crows through his wheezing, gasping for breath. Sapnap whoops again, this time joined by George, whose mic is crunching so loudly it’s making Dream’s ears hurt. “First try, motherfuckers!”
“You’re in the gang!” Sapnap laughs, “first time, 5 out of 5 Feral Boys, let’s go!”
“Let’s fucking go!” George shouts, excitement evident in his voice. “I can’t believe you pranked us like that, you nerd, I actually thought you failed!”
“Of course not!” Dream shouts back, faking indignance. “I’m a great driver!”
“I guess we’re just gonna have to find that out ourselves,” Sapnap says, “‘cause you’re driving us around for the next three years, after all the times we carted you around-”
“What?! Shut up, no I'm not!” Dream laughs.
“-it only took you forever to book the fucking test, jeez,” Sapnap continues as if Dream had never interrupted.
"Literally ages," George pipes up.
“Come pick us up, we’re getting celebration McDonald’s,” Sapnap barrels on.
“I want Wendy’s,” George immediately argues.
“Do I get a say?” Dream asks as his two best friends start bickering, loudly and with far too much vitriol, about fast food places. “You guys have like three minutes to settle this, I’m heading out.”
He picks up George first- the few blocks between their homes blur by, a path he's taken so many times it's been etched in his memory. George is already waiting on his front porch, foot tapping impatiently against the wood; his entire face lights up as Dream pulls into the driveway, and he races down towards him.
"I want Wendy's," he says stubbornly as soon as Dream's got his window rolled down halfway. Dream throws his head back against the headrest dramatically.
"Ugh," he sighs, "fight it out with Sapnap, just get in." George lingers by the passengers' side, tying a letterman jacket that's probably actually Dream's loosely around his waist. "Come on, I'm hungry."
"I dunno," George hums. "I don't trust you, you probably drive like a maniac."
"I so do not," Dream says, feigning indignance. "I'll have you know that I'm a model citizen and a perfect driver, thanks."
"And you won't crash the car?"
Dream laughs. "I promise I won't crash the car."
"You don't know that," George argues, even as he slides into the passenger's seat.
"You're such an idiot," Dream retorts, and they both know he doesn't really mean it. Out of the corner of his eye, Dream can see the smile George is wearing, and he resists the urge to reach over the console to take his hand.
Sapnap is pacing up and down the middle of his driveway when Dream pulls up; George rolls his window down, laughing, and shouts "Get out of the way, idiot!" as the car slows down.
Sapnap jogs onto his mother's perfectly-curated lawn, flashing George both of his middle fingers with a grin; he's yelling as he pulls the backseat door open.
"I wanted to ride shotgun!" Sapnap complains, and George twists to stick his tongue out at him.
"Settle down, kids," Dream says cajolingly, laughing at their twin murderous expressions in the mirrors. "So, Wendy's or McD's?"
In the end, they end up going to both: McDonald’s for Sapnap, Wendy’s for George. Dream buys himself a burger from each place and then amuses himself with stealing fries from George while Sapnap laughs at them both from the back, lounging across the seats like a king. The summer heat makes the inside of Dream’s mom’s car all warm and stuffy, so they open the windows and take turns playing their music too loudly in an elementary school parking lot while they sip their sodas, condensation wetting their greasy fingers.
“I should have failed on purpose,” Dream jokes as he drives them all home, evening dimming the sky into oranges and reds. “Then you guys would have treated me to dinner, and I wouldn’t have to drive you around.”
“You wouldn’t be able to hide from us forever,” George laughs, taking a loud, hollow draw from his mostly-ice drink. Sapnap makes a sleepy sound of assent from the back seats.
“Still,” Dream says, and grins at George when they hit a red light. The other teen is already looking over at him, his dark eyes reflecting the egg-yolk sun, golden hour turning him into some sort of divine creature. Dream understands the craze for those little Polaroid cameras, suddenly—he could live in this moment for the rest of time.
"Still what?" George asks. Dream just shakes his head, still smiling, and presses the gas pedal as the light flickers green.
Sapnap gets dropped off first, waving at them lazily from his front porch as Dream does a perfect three-point turn in his driveway. George makes faces at him until they're completely out of sight. The clouds are streaked with sunset, roads almost empty as the day lisps into night, and the thick summer air makes Dream feel braver than he is. He takes an impulsive left, heading out of their neighbourhood; George blinks and then sits up straight, watching the houses go by.
"Don't tell me you've forgotten where I live," he says, amused, and Dream swats at him one-handed.
"Of course not," he says indignantly. "I wanna go to the beach."
"Really?" George asks, but doesn't complain; he just leans his head out the window, dark hair ruffled by the wind, and laughs. "As long as you don't get lost."
"Floridian, born and raised," Dream says, tearing his eyes back to the road. "I will never get lost going to a beach."
They sing songs loudly and badly as they race down the empty streets, pop songs they won’t remember by next week as the streetlights flicker on; George's empty drink rattles around in the cupholder between them, soaking the crumpled receipts crammed underneath it to illegibility. Dream beams, victorious, as he passes the wide parking lot of the closest beach, skirting it and pulling into a smaller one further down the road.
The section of beach that they discovered summers ago is empty, like it almost always is; Dream goes trip-tripping through the sloping undergrowth towards the sandbar, stopping at the bottom to wait for George. George follows with more reticence, hands tangled in the low branches for balance. His sneakers slip in the loose soil, and Dream lurches instinctively to catch him— George finds his footing before Dream can take another step in his direction, shooting him a cocky grin. Together, they duck out from under the foliage, stumbling onto the narrow strip of beach. Fading sunlight stretches over the waves into the horizon, the rest of the sky deepening to indigo.
"Really?" Dream teases as George lays the letterman— it is one of Dream's— across the sand, salt air on his tongue. Dream kicks his sneakers off and flops down, legs splayed out in front of him, and George makes a face at him from where he's perched on top of the jacket.
"Have fun vacuuming that out of your car seats," he says pointedly, and laughs as Dream scrambles to his feet with a curse.
"Scoot over," Dream scowls, even though George has already left a Dream-sized space next to him. They end up side by side, leaning on each other as the waves wash up shells and seaweed a few paces away. George's eyes track the sway of water, face open and relaxed; Dream stares for a long moment.
"I wish we could stay like this forever," he says wistfully, breaking the peaceful silence. George glances at him, eyebrows raised.
"Really?" he asks, leaning back on his arms. "The future's so exciting, though."
"For you, maybe," Dream snorts. It's not meant to come out bitter, but it does; he nudges George's shoulder to soften the blow. "Mister comp-sci." George rolls his eyes.
"You don't have to go right to uni," he says, as if they haven't had this conversation before. "You're allowed to take a gap year if you want to. And I know you want to."
"Ugh," Dream sighs. "I know, I know. I don't think my parents would let me."
"You're an adult now," George returns, his mouth tilting into a little frown that Dream immediately wants to smooth away, maybe with his own mouth. "It's your future, y'know?"
"Yeah, but…" Dream bites at the inside of his cheek, suddenly tired. "I didn't apply for any of the universities they wanted me to, and I'm already going into the arts," he sighs. "I don't want to-"
Let them down more is what he means to say, but he leaves the sentence there. George glances at him, then shoves him gently. "Hey!"
"You're overcomplicating it," George groans. "I already said it, it's your life, you don't owe it to them to do what they want you to."
"What should I do, then, Darth George the Wise?" Dream asks, watching as George's cheek dimples when he grins.
"Do what makes you happy!" George says simply, smile wide. Dream can't help himself— he laughs, nudging George's shoulder again and making the other teeter dangerously over the edge of the jacket.
"You make it sound so easy," he replies, and George turns towards him.
"It is," George says insistently. "What makes you happy?"
"You," Dream says, open and honest. George pauses, his expression flickering before it settles into something sun-warmed and soft. Dream's heart stutters in his chest, and he looks out to where the last dredges of orange light are spilling over the waves. George's hand touches his, their fingers linking together like second nature.
"You're what makes me happy, too," George says. It comes out like a confession, deliberate, and when Dream turns towards him again he’s already leaning in. For all Dream likes to think of himself as fearless and daring, George has always been the brave one.
Dream takes the plunge and closes the gap.
It’s not a perfect kiss: they tilt their heads the same way, their noses bump, there’s definitely grit getting under Dream’s nails because he’s set his hand in the sand to brace himself. George snorts, and he’s still laughing when Dream’s lips meet his, little hiccuping giggles caught between their mouths.
And then it is perfect, completely and utterly. They slot together like they’ve done this for years, and George’s lips are so soft, and he tastes like saltwater air, and Dream can feel his smile, the laugh trapped under his tongue. George's hands settle at the back of Dream's neck, tangled in his hair, and helplessly, Dream leans in further. Every atom strains to be closer. He's been caught in George's orbit for so long, and when George moves Dream follows mindlessly, chasing the warmth of his mouth. He could live in this moment for the rest of time— George's lips and tongue and hands, Dream melting under the summertime heat of his full attention.
"I like you," Dream says mindlessly, right before George kisses him again, and then again, sweet and soft and perfect. Every single one of Dream's braincells is short-circuiting. "So much, for so long-"
George is smiling into the next kiss. "You're so stupid," he says, and Dream can't even argue when he's getting kissed like this, like George can't bear to be apart from Dream, too. "I love you, you idiot."
The laugh that bubbles out of Dream's chest is sunsoaked and giddy. "You love me," he murmurs, and George tugs at the short hairs he has caught between his fingers.
"I'm literally kissing you right now," he points out, but he's laughing as well. Dream tries to kiss him again, but George ducks, giggling, and Dream contents himself with peppering George's face with kisses, his cheeks and chin and forehead, everything he can reach. Nighttime has stolen all the remaining sunset from the sky, but in the watery moonlight George glows just as brightly, face flushed and lips kissed pink.
"I love you too," Dream says breathlessly, and leans in to kiss him again, and again, and again.
They hold hands all the way up to the car, slipping in the dirt and laughing, tripping on each other's ankles. Dream fumbles the keys, clumsy with his left hand, as he unlocks the doors and does his best to shake the remaining sand from his body. George is still grinning when Dream starts the engine, rolling down the windows and letting the sunbaked air out. By the time they pull back onto the road, the clock is showing half past eleven, red analogue numbers blinking at him accusingly. His mom will give him an earful for staying out so late.
George is looking at him, dark eyes barely visible in the corner of Dream's vision, and Dream, daringly, reaches over the stick shift to take his hand. George laces their fingers together. Suddenly, Dream doesn't give a damn about anything except the weight of George's hand in his.
"I know we're doing this all backwards," Dream blurts, glancing at him, and then, all at once, "I mean, I'm pretty sure first kisses are supposed to come after dates, and like, the whole boyfriend thing after that, but-"
"Dream," George says, part exasperation, part affection, "that was like, the worst and most awkward way to ask someone out."
"How would you do it, then?" Dream demands crossly, warm all the way up to his ears. George laughs at him.
"Will you be my boyfriend?" George asks. Dream's heart stutters in his chest, and the smile that grows over his face is dopey and lovestruck. Boyfriend.
"Yes," he says giddily. "Yes!" George laughs again, smile curling the corners of his eyes. "We're boyfriends now?"
"Don't make me ask you again," George teases. Absently, he presses a kiss to the inside of Dream’s wrist, not much more than a brush of his lips. Still, Dream almost misses his next turn, even though he knows every street in this neighbourhood like the back of his hand.
"Stop distracting me!" he complains, not meaning it in the slightest. George grins, haloed in moonlight, and Dream thinks, blissfully, boyfriends.
George only lets go of his hand when Dream pulls into his driveway, fingers lingering on the jut of his wrist before they fall away to unfasten his seatbelt. Dream throws his own door open, scrambling to follow George up to the front porch, trailing after him like a puppy. Keys in hand, George offers him the same sun-gold smile he's been wearing for the past few hours.
"You’re such a gentleman," he says teasingly, and Dream beams, unable to feel the slightest bit embarrassed when he can reach out and take George’s hand and George lets him. "See you soon?"
"Are you asking me out on a date?" Dream jokes, revelling in George's laugh. The shadows cast over his face by the porch light dance as he nods.
"Only if you drive," he returns, then throws his arms over Dream's shoulders, planting a loud kiss on his cheek. Dream muffles his own laugh in George’s shoulder, smiling hopelessly against the soft fabric of his shirt. “Goodnight, Dream.”
“One more kiss?” Dream begs shamelessly, puckering his lips in the most over-dramatic way he can muster. George rolls his eyes.
“You’re so clingy,” he says, as if he’s not still balanced on his tiptoes to keep his arms looped around Dream’s neck himself. Before Dream can point that out, George kisses him- and really, if shutting up means getting kissed by George, Dream will gladly keep his mouth closed. Dazed, Dream blinks as George gives him one last short peck on the lips and squeezes him before pulling away. “Bye, Dream.”
“Fine, fine,” Dream says plaintively, pressing a kiss to George’s soft hair. “Goodnight, I love you.” The words slip out easily, almost accidentally, but George’s entire face lights up. Cute.
“I love you too,” he says, and then makes a halfhearted shooing motion with his hands. “Get out of here, you’re so annoying.”
“But you love me,” Dream says, just to be obnoxious, as he hops down the stairs. George’s voice is fond when he replies, his smile turning the vowels sunset-soft.
“I do,” he says. “Goodnight, Dream.” He waves as Dream pulls out of the driveway, still smiling softly, and Dream can't stop his own lovestruck smile even as he turns the corner, losing sight of him.
Familiar houses blur by, and fluorescent white streetlamps wash the pavement in silver, moonlight illuminating the spaces in between. With the windows rolled all the way down and summernight air on his tongue, Dream feels like he’s flying the entire drive home.