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This is humiliating.
Rain beats down in sheets on the empty streets, a single soul standing out in the downpour.
She’d dumped him- quite literally. Having expelled him onto the curb like fast food trash, and skidded down the road in a flash of too bright yellow and a broken tail light. George had been so stunned, heart roaring in his ears, to even notice the rain soaking his clothes, drenching brown locks until they slicked against the sides of his temples.
This was not what he was supposed to be. He was supposed to be a CEO, to be top dog, full of power and confidence. Not suppressing sobs while the rain cuts into his skin like sutures. He thanks the heavens that he’s the only soul out this late, the only one available to witness his breakdown.
That is until red flashes under a street lamp, and comes rumbling to a stop in front of him. Tinted windows roll down, and in the shine of a flickering lamp, he recognizes the sharp features, animalistic smirk and stubble creeping along soft tanned skin.
“You’re getting wet.” Dream’s voice barely makes it to his ears as he stares, and then scowls. Of all people on Earth to show up, it had to be Dream.
It had to be his coworker, his employee, the conventionally attractive technological supervisor. The coder who worked with deft fingers, twisted with ink going up, up past his wrist, past the dip of his elbow, disappearing under a ruffled dress shirt that was, now that office hours were over, unbuttoned by two spots and revealing the faint color of ink on his chest, of tan skin and toned muscles stretching as he leans over the center console and-
“Hey.” George blinks as Dream snaps his fingers at him, and he can’t help but notice that the smirk is gone and he looks… concerned?
“You gonna hop in or what?”
George should deny. He should pull his phone out; his broken, soaking wet phone. He should call someone else, wave down a taxi and stuff damp dollar bills into rough hands, and find his way back to his apartment.
“.. Yeah.” And George clutches the door handle, and Dream breaks out into a grin.
George pulls himself into the cool interior of the car, and he immediately gives a shiver as his skin turns ice cold. Dream looks over at him, and then turns the AC down to a low hum, turning it warmer. As an added measure, he turns a seat warmer on as George buckles himself in. He drives in silence for a moment, and George wonders if he’s gonna ask for directions to his house.
“So.. is there a reason you’re out in the cold rain? Or are you reenacting the latest coming of age movie?” Dream’s focus is on the road, but his lips slip into a coy smile, one brow raised. George makes a face, turning to look out the window at the rain beating down. He doesn’t answer him, willing the other to leave it at that. But he doesn’t, fingers flexing on the leather steering wheel. “C’mon, you won’t even amuse me with a lie?”
“She dumped me.” George says curtly, and he winces at the harshness of his voice. “Told me to find my own way home.” He tacks on, trying to adopt a calmer tone, and sooth over the harsh one he’d jabbed at the other. Dream’s smile disappears then, replaced by a more amicable look, brows furrowing with pity.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” The apology grates against his ears, and makes his chest suddenly ache. Tears prick the corners of his eyes, but he quickly wills them away. He doesn’t want to cry. “.. You okay?”
Damnit. The question makes him blink, and tears slide down his cheeks.
“It’s.. it’s fine. It is.” George insists. “I didn’t really see myself staying with her for long. It was.. more so to keep myself from being lonely.” He knows that’s an awful take, but she had had worse reasons to leave him stranded. Love was a fickle little thing. He’s not sure why his attraction had drifted, and where it had gone to.
The car rumbles quietly as Dream takes an unfamiliar turn, and George realizes he doesn’t recognize his surroundings. Dream must have caught onto his confusion, as he turns to him and smiles. “Taking you back to my place.”
George blinks, and then he circles a hand on the door handle, as though he would really launch himself back into the wet streets. “No, no. I don’t- take me home.” He tries to keep his voice stable, commanding in the way it should be, but it cracks at the end and makes his ears turn crimson. Dream chuckles, and a warmth twists at his chest.
“Nah. You’re soaking wet dude. Just for the night, so you don’t catch a cold. Or at least until your stuff dries.”
An argument dies in his throat as George leans back, feeling the warming effects of the leather seat, spreading to his chilled bones. It sounds… okay, he guesses. There were worse people to be stuck inside with.
So he sits quietly as Dream drifts through ghostly streets, and then pulls into a parking garage, flashing a badge he pulled from some crevice unseen. He’s quiet as they exit the vehicle, as sodden feet trot after brisk steps out into the streets once more. The rain has become nothing more than a mist hanging over them, and Dream is turning at a set of steps, taking them two at a time to a burgundy door. George follows slower, watches as he fumbles with a thick ring of keys and then opens the door.
The apartment is nice, nicer than he’d been expecting, actually. The front entrance opens to the living room, decorations lining shelves and books going up to the ceiling. A couch is centered on a shaggy black rug, a blanket hanging over its edge. A cat blinks at him from the arm of the couch, calm and curious.
“I’ll be right back.” Dream says as he shuts the door behind him, and then disappears down a hallway. George takes the moment to study the living room. It’s full of color, soft velvet couch and decorated walls. There’s photos of people he doesn’t recognize, that he probably won’t ever recognize. A TV is mounted on the wall, a shelf below it holding gaming consoles and a DVD player.
To the right of the room is a dining table, hardwood giving way to tile a little farther as an open kitchen hangs in the far corner. Granite countertops and an island accompany the appliances, and the faint scent of Chinese hangs over the scent of water lilies and rain.
“Here.” Dream reappears, a bundle of clothes in his arms, and a towel as well. “Bathrooms the third door on the left. If you wanna shower you can, otherwise just bring me your clothes and I’ll throw them in the dryer.” George gives a silent nod, taking a stumbling step forward before he darts down the hallway to the bathroom.
It’s small, soft blue walls reflecting the nautical themed decor in the mirror. George almost laughs, staring at the seashell knobs and pretty mermaid hand towels.
Dream, top coder, technological supervisor, a man with tattoo’s twisting his skin and who drives a red sports car, has a nautical themed bathroom like a remarried woman in her fifties.
It’s kind of endearing.
He undresses, wiping himself dry with the towel. He decides against a shower, too nervous being so exposed in such a new environment, so he quickly dresses in too big sweatpants that swallow his hips, and shoves himself into a fleece lined hoodie that smells of cologne and coconut body wash. George balls his clothes up, wrapping them awkwardly in the towel to keep any more water from dripping onto the tiles.
George appears back into the living room, his feet socketed by the long sweatpants he had to tie around his waist twice to keep from slipping off. He notices the TV on, though right now it’s just playing a screensaver, some brightly colored fish darting around amongst fake rocks and pixel plants.
“I’ll take those.” Dream pops up almost silently, and he chuckles at the way George jumps some. He’s changed as well, George notes. He’s wearing plaid pajama pants, dressed in a simple white shirt depicting some band. Lovejoy? Never heard of them. George wonders if he should google them.
“Oh, thanks.” George hands the wet bundle to the other, and Dream nods, gesturing with his head to the couch.
“Go ahead and take a seat. You’re shaking.” And he is, he suddenly realizes. Even covered in warm clothes, his body is trembling. The rain had been cold, and the drive had done little to replace the warmth he’d lost. George gives a numb nod as Dream leaves again, and he finds himself drifting forward, sinking into plush velvet that’s soft against his hands.
He’s watching a Nemo look alike flit through some bubbles when he feels a hand at his shoulder, and he jumps. Dream is leaning over the side of the couch, holding a glass of a bittersweet smelling liquid.
“Wine?” Dream raises a brow. George blinks, and then wrinkles his nose some as he shakes his head.
“No, no. I’m fine, I don’t drink.” George insists, but Dream is a little more insistent, pushing the wine glass into his hand.
“You need it.” Dream hums, and yeah, maybe the thought of making his mind a little lighter with a glass isn’t the worst idea. Dream plops on the couch beside him, with his own glass of wine, and setting the offending bottle on the wooden coffee table before them.
George feels awkward. He’s his boss, they’ve interacted hundreds of times through the past several weeks since he took over. He’d stood beside him in the break room, watched over rigid shoulders as he tapped away at his keyboard, inspected the faint lines underneath forest eyes, followed his inked hands as he pushed them through short blonde hair, long lashes fluttering sleepily as the screen stared unblinking back at him-
“You wanna talk about it?”
George jerks out of his thoughts when Dream speaks, and he realizes he’s been staring into his glass. Clearing his throat, he takes a sip of the bitter liquid, and then swallows once more.
“I don’t know. Y’know..” And he probably shouldn’t be opening up like this, but Dream is shifting to face him openly, legs tucked underneath him, one arm splayed across the back of the couch and nearly brushing his shoulders, the other hand mindlessly swirling the wine in his glass. It’s inviting, an openness he’s not quite used to. “At some point I stopped loving her. Not.. not like she did anything wrong. Just one day I looked at her and it felt like looking at a stranger. Maybe she changed, maybe I changed. Apparently she felt the same, and didn’t want to hold onto me any longer. Could’ve at least given me a ride home.”
Dream nods, taking a slow sip of his wine as he hums. “That sucks, bro.” Is all he says. George blinks, and can’t help the laugh that escapes him. This seems to have been Dream’s target, as he returns the smile that now settles on George’s lips. “No, seriously. I’ve been there, y’know. And it sucks, cause you feel like you should grieve, and be a sobbing inconsolable mess. But it’s like you’ve already grieved for weeks now, and you’re just left feeling empty.”
George is surprised by how eloquently Dream explains his feelings, a tinge of jealousy stabbing at his chest. He wishes he could explain his feelings that easily, know exactly what words described what, rather than the twisted jumble of confusing thoughts that currently resided in his head.
“That’s why we drink, huh?” Dream lifts his glass, and George smiles as he gently clinks the glasses together. He finishes his wine off, and ignores the raised brow that Dream gives him as his gaze drifts to the bottle. “Hell yeah, help yourself.” Dream says, and it’s all he needs before he’s refilling his glass. It’s good wine, he tells himself.
And maybe a bit of good company.
“Don’t let yourself get down.” Dream continues as red liquid threatens to slosh out of the glass and onto the couch, George carefully corking the bottle loosely with one hand. “There’s someone for everyone. Whoever it ends up being will be lucky.” It’s George’s turn to fix Dream with a curious look, brow raised.
“What does that mean?” George asks as he leans back into the couch, and Dream laughs at him in return, causing pink to dust his cheeks in a way the alcohol doesn’t quite do.
“I mean, you’re the CEO of a big company. That’s a start. And you’re,” And Dream gestures vaguely at him. “Not a bad looking guy. Maybe a little scrawny.” Dream gives him a smirk, and George huffs indignantly, but he feels a smile creeping on his face as he tips more wine past his lips.
He finds it strange, strange that he’s enjoying the company of someone he thought he didn’t like much. To be fair, their interactions hadn’t strayed farther than saying polite hello’s if they saw each other on the side of the road, or a brisk, easy conversation in the breakroom, or open chatter whilst one of them grabbed something from a vending machine, and the other gave it a smack until two candy bars fell on top of the one that was bought.
Alright, so maybe they’d interacted more than he’d realised. So much had been happening in his life, he hadn’t really been able to focus on much.
“George?”
Goddamn it.
“Hm? What was that?” George blinks his way back to reality, where Dream’s staring at him with an amused expression, his eyes twinkling. It makes his chest feel warm in a weird way.
“I asked if you wanted more.” George follows his gesture to the empty wine glass in his hands, and wow, he hadn’t even realized. George just gives a mute nod, and Dream leans forward, carefully filling his glass a third time, and his own a second time. George hadn’t realized how much he’d been drinking, but he wasn’t going to turn down the alcohol already poured into his glass.
It’s silent for a moment, the two sipping on the wine and enjoying the soothing buzz taking their minds. When the silence is split, it’s by George this time.
“So, who was it?” Dream looks up at him confused, brows furrowed. “Who made you feel… y’know. Like me.” It clicks for Dream, and for a moment he doesn’t answer. He swirls his wine once more, teeth gnawing at his cheek before he finally opens his mouth and speaks.
“My ex-boyfriend.” Dream doesn’t look at him, looks somewhere past him with a hazy look in his eyes. “He was kind of shitty, so it was easy to stop loving him.”
George’s tongue feels like lead. Dream’s.. Ex-boyfriend? Did he hear that correctly?
Dream’s watching him from the corner of his gaze, and George realizes he’s let the silence hang over them in an awkward way. He clears his throat, feeling bad.
“I’m- I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting-”
“Expecting me to be gay?” Dream finishes his sentence, but doesn’t look upset. The fucker looks amused, and George wishes he could wipe that smirk off his features as he lets red liquid swish past rosy lips. “That’s not very modern of you, George.”
“Hey!” George squeaks, and Dream crumples into giddy laughter, his eyes squeezing shut. George can’t help the little laughs that escape him, but he keeps himself a little more composed than Dream does. The other recovers quickly, grinning at him now.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just funny to do.” Funny for him, George thinks sullenly. He pushes his glass to his lips again, and finds himself finishing his third glass. His head feels stuffy and warm, cheeks flushed with the effects of the alcohol. He doesn’t want anymore, though, so he reaches to the coffee table and sets his glass down.
“How shitty?” George asks before he can think to stop himself. Dream blinks at him, lowering his glass from his lips. George processes the weight of his question a moment too late, and he curses himself internally before he opens his mouth to apologize.
Dream beats him to it.
“Meh. Just.. shitty, yknow?.” Dream shrugs some, one finger idly tracing the edge of his glass. “Just a bad human being. It felt like we were always on separate pages, it was exhausting when it should’ve been the opposite. Eventually it got to be too much and I just left.” Dream’s voice has grown quieter, and George is shocked at what the man is sharing with him, his boss, on an almost random whim. Dream seems to realize this suddenly, eyes widening some as he shoots back the rest of his wine, and eyes the bottle for a fourth glass. “Sorry,” he gave a breathy laugh that made George’s breath catch in his throat, “I know that was a lot to drop on you.”
“It’s fine.” George says softly, and finally Dream slides his gaze back to him. George takes the moment to look him over. His face is flushed red, a mixture of embarrassment and alcohol turning his cheeks a rosy hue spreading over soft freckle. There are thin purple lines etched beneath his eyes, evidence of many sleepless nights spent huddled at a computer. Then there’s the forest of viridian green encased by thick, dark lashes, a sharp nose painted with pink, rosy lips that are scarred from being chewed on in nervous situations. A strong jaw, flexing minutely as he swallows a lump in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that captivates him into watching, and eyeing the edge of his random band shirt, the faintest hint of black ink peeking through the slightly opaque fabric.
He’s jealous, he tells himself to explain away the pooling heat in his chest and the way his heart beats a little faster. It’s just the alcohol.
A ringing tune jerks them both suddenly, and Dream turns his head to look down a dark hallway. “Oh shit, your clothes.” The reason for him being here is brought back to the forefront of his mind, and George can’t help a little groan. Dream turns back to him, brows furrowed.
“Sorry. I guess we got carried away.” Dream laughs some, glancing at the wine bottle and empty glasses. “I can have Sapnap, my roommate, drive you home, he’s.. mostly a good driver.” No offense, but George doesn’t really want the ‘roommate’ to drive him at half past midnight through wet streets to his high rise apartment. Dream almost seems to catch onto this as he clears his throat again, and rubs awkwardly at his neck. “Or you could stay here. Take my room.”
George pauses, then shakes his head. “No, no, I- I couldn’t. I’m fine with the couch.” George doesn’t think he could force himself into Dream’s bed. He’s not sure why, but the thought of it makes his mind race. Dream doesn’t seem keen to argue, as though he can sense his hesitance. Dream offers a smile, nodding.
“Alright. You can take the couch.” Dream stands then, going and collecting the glasses and wine bottle. George follows him with his eyes as he travels to the kitchen, depositing the glasses into the sink, and sliding the half empty wine bottle back onto its spot on a shelf of various liquor. Wordlessly, Dream disappears into a dark hallway, and reappears clutching a fluffy pillow, an equally fluffy blanket thrown over his shoulder and dragging lightly behind him.
George moves off the couch awkwardly, the ground dipping beneath him as blood rushes to his head and he realizes how much he’s drunk. Dream places the pillow at one end, and then haphazardly throws the blanket over the length of the couch, turning to George.
“My room’s down there.” He points back to the dark hallway. “If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask. There’s water in the fridge, and you’re welcome to any of our snacks. Just don’t eat the Cheetos, Sapnap gets really possessive of his Cheetos.” George laughs softly, and Dream smiles.
“Thank you, Dream.” George says, and then pauses for a moment before he finds himself softening. “For.. for everything tonight.” Dream’s smile brightens some, and there’s an odd look in his eyes as he passes by him.
“Not a problem, sir. Goodnight.” He winks at George as he hovers in the hallway, and then disappears into the darkness. George feels his heart pounding at that wink, and he sinks down underneath the provided blanket.
The soft light from the kitchen is the only light left on, just barely strong enough to cast shadows to the living room. George spends a long time staring at the ceiling, hands clasped over his stomach and trying to make sense of his emotions.
When they refuse to make sense, however, he abandons that train of thought instead to start counting sheep, and force himself into a sleep.
George drifts off to sleep to the scent of water lilies and coconut, and the taste of bittersweet wine.