Chapter Text
Every high school movie is the same. The 'big strong jock' is loved and revered by all except the little nerd in the corner. The little nerd in the corner is forced to team with the jock, and BAM, the jock has a soft side, BAM, they're perfect for each other, and BAM, true love (or some shit like that).
See, the thing is, George is highly aware of Dream's softer side. If he had a dollar for every nice thing he'd see Dream do, he could probably buy a house. Or two.
But, while the movie nerd always falls in love with the soft things, George would rather die than associate himself with the guy who was so sickeningly sweet and kind all the time. Like, he's not about to fall in love with some golden retriever-esque, grade-A-suckup asshole just because that's the rom-com movie cliche.
Apparently, he hasn't made that abundantly clear to Dream.
Dream, who makes himself so fucking dateable with his perfect fluffy hair at just the right length to half-tie into a man bun, his black-painted nails, and his little pride pin that sticks on his blazer. That Dream. The one who is also attempting to start a conversation with the one person in the school who wouldn’t literally beg to be Dream’s friend.
"Hey George, can I—"
"Fuck off, Dream," he interrupts. "I can't deal with your shit today."
"—talk to you for a second…"
See, the movie jock normally has something inherently wrong about them—anxiety, dickhead syndrome, and the locked doors of the closet, probably—but Dream is fucking perfect. Not one thing could be critiqued or picked clean. He never has a hair out of place, he never has food stuck in his teeth, and his coming-out story has more smiles than Disneyland. Hell, the man could even parallel park perfectly. As captain of the football team (and quarterback, of course), top of the class in three subjects, and unarguably the most popular guy in school, Dream was practically worshipped by everyone.
So, naturally, George picks on exactly that.
"You have so many people ready to shine your fucking shoes, Dream, talk to one of them." Sapnap waves back at George’s vague gesture to where the blond’s usual group normally waits. George scoffs. “Look how ready and willing they are to follow your every whim.”
Smile fading to a frown, Dream wanders back over to where Sapnap stands. George rolls his eyes at the dejected look on the blond's face, before pushing open the heavy door into the main hall of the school.
He pointedly ignores the teasing laugh that bubbles over from where Dream stands.
~~~
Unfortunately for George, more than half of his classes are shared with Dream. They have English, computer science, and physics together, and somehow he manages to get on his nerves in every single class.
English was easily one of George's worst subjects. Ironically, the teacher was one of his favourites. Techno, who gave up trying to persuade students that his last name was actually Blade, was a great teacher. He made sure they somewhat knew what they were doing, always marked assignments overnight, and was actually rather strict—something George respected a lot.
Unlike George, Dream never seemed to struggle with English. Unfortunately, that seemed to be true with most of the asshole's subjects, but English was definitely the worst. He’d entered (and won) many a writing competition, and it was looking up on the scholarship front.
All George could ever hear in his stupid English class was his perfect honeyed voice that all the girls seemed to fawn over.
Of course, with being good at the subject came the soft spot held by the teacher too.
Techno, as great a teacher as he was, liked to pick on students who were more likely to know the answer. It made perfect sense, but it got rather repetitive only ever hearing Dream’s ongoing thoughts. So much so, that George had up and left during a lesson when Dream was being particularly obnoxious. Detention soon followed, but it was better than having to listen to that stuck-up asshole for another half an hour.
The worst part about the whole situation was that computer science, George's favourite subject, was also shared with Dream.
Computer science became an escape for George from an early age. While most kids (apart from maybe picture perfect 'I'll do my homework every night and not go on a device' Dream) were playing Toontown and Club Penguin, he was far more enthralled with the complex lines of code that ran the games his peers had mastered.
He was top in his computer science class the moment he started high school and, over the past few years, it had been the one place he never fucking saw Dream.
Until the idiot picked it up in his last fucking year of school. Like who does that?
So now, in the one place he felt safe from the beam of light that was Dream, he's stuck sitting right fucking next to the asshole. Great. Worse still, while absolute shit at understanding the work, Dream was genuinely interested in the subject, so constantly turned to George for help.
"George, what is wrong with this? It's not working properly."
Like now, for example.
George sighs and reluctantly angles Dream's laptop screen towards himself. The mistake makes itself clear very quickly.
"You've used normal brackets. You should be using square brackets around most of this."
On the bright side, he did get to make fun of Dream's mistakes.
"That's literally basic coding knowledge, how do you not know it?"
Dream only shrugs and begins the tedious task of replacing every bracket with its square counterpart. Goddamn, it was hilarious to watch this with the literal 'find and replace' menu flashing in the top corner of his screen.
George smiles to himself and continues typing out lines of code. Recently, he'd started using Minecraft as a means to practise his coding, changing small elements of it to challenge himself to beat the game. He's coded plugins for mob apocalypses and firestorms and is currently working on something he's been doing for a while. When finished, he wants to be able to look at one block and turn it into another, like bedrock or a randomised block. So far, he's successfully got the program to recognize when he looks at and away from a block at any distance, but hasn't quite figured out how to change it.
A flop of blond hair suddenly covers part of the screen.
"Whatcha coding, George?"
He saves and quits what he's done, closing the laptop from prying eyes.
"A plugin that will let me hunt you down and kill you."
Dream grins. "Sounds fun."
~~~
As per usual, George is the last to leave the computer science lab. The last bell had rung a couple of minutes ago, but he had been distracted testing out what he'd done in the lesson and neglected to pack up with everyone else.
As he closes the game and highlights a few lines of code to look back on later, the scraping of a chair causes him to look up at where his teacher, Mr Amdude, looks towards him with an unimpressed brow raised.
"You almost done in here George?"
He slides his laptop into its case and zips up his bag. "Yeah, sorry sir." He'd actually been meaning to talk to his teacher about starting up a coding club after school.
"Sir, before you go," he calls out as Mr Amdude opens the door to leave. "I was wanting to start a coding club or something. You're probably the best person to go to."
"I dunno, George," Mr Amdude replies, slowly pulling open the door behind him. "It wouldn't be hugely popular and I don't really want to stay behind after school,"
"But sir—"
"I'm sure you can find another teacher, George. You don't need me to lead it."
The teacher leaves before George can utter another word, leaving the dejected student to lock up the class like he normally did.
As he walks out the front gates and into the carpark, George feels a tap on his shoulder.
"How good are you at coding, George?"
He turns around to see familiar pink hair and the classic taped glasses of his favourite teacher.
"Decent, better than pretty much every student here," he replies curiously.
"Well," Techno starts, crossing his arms across his chest, "I don't know anything about it, but I can give you the space to work and permission to run a club."
"How did you—"
"Your compsci teacher might seem like a bit of an ass, but he doesn't hate you."
George makes a mental reminder to thank Mr Amdude in his next lesson. There was still the problem of actually finding interest, but at least the admin stuff was somewhat sorted.
"Come to my class after school tomorrow, I can help you sort out details and get a notice out over the intercom or something."
George grins and thanks Techno, promising to be prompt, and wanders over to where his bike is parked.
Damn, tomorrow is going to be so fucking good.
~~~
The morning had not been good to George.
His bike had a flat tyre, so he was left walking the forty minutes to school, his phone hadn't charged probably, and to top it off, stupid fucking pathetic fallacy meant that it was raining. Stupid Florida weather.
He arrives at school half an hour late, water dripping down his back and squelching in his shoes. The receptionist had simply given him a stern look and a pass for the bedraggled uniform before sending him off to class.
Digitalising the school's roll call process had put him in the good books of the infamously strict receptionist, so the one time a semester he's late she waves him off with an excuse note.
He guesses that's one plus of the day.
When he slips into his chemistry class, Ms O'Brien only nods at the paper in his hand before continuing on droning about Markovnikov's rule and the transfer of electrons.
By the end of the hour-long period, George's shirt is practically dry. His socks still squelch in his shoes and could probably do with wringing out, but for now, it's fine.
He leaves the science block feeling slightly less bedraggled than when he went in, and wanders over to where his English class is.
Naturally, Dream is already there, laughing it up with Techno. His shoes certainly aren't wet, what, with the car his parents bought him for his sixteenth. Lucky bastard.
George sighs and resigns himself to a long lesson. His bag is carelessly tossed on an empty desk and his sodden English book is dumped onto the table.
"Are you ok, George?" Dream asks. "I have a spare jacket if yours is too wet."
George ignores him, zipping up a sodden jacket in lieu of an answer.
Techno stares awkwardly from the front of the class. It's not unusual for Dream to be trying to talk to George, the distraction is more of a tradition than anything.
Soon enough they calm down, Dream settling for a seat near him after leaving a (far too expensive in George's opinion) jacket on the back of George's chair.
He knows his pettiness and hatred toward Dream comes from nowhere. Hell, the guy just gave him a $300 jacket to borrow because his was slightly wet. All he offers him is a smile, slipping cold arms into fleecy sleeves and wrapping the jacket around himself.
Fucking hell it's warm. Why isn't he friends with this guy again?
"Mallaphor- it's when you combine two idioms to make a new one, like 'we'll burn that bridge when we get to it.’”
Oh yeah. He's a suck-up and a perfect student. That's why.
"Perfect, Dream!"
George very easily drowns out the rest of the lesson.
~~~
By the time George has processed the bell has rung, mostly everyone has filtered out, apart from Dream.
"You can use my jacket today if you bring it tomorrow," Dream says. "You'll probably freeze half to death if I take it back.''
It's still raining, and as much as George would love to reject the offer, he still has four more periods, and a bike ride home, to suffer through.
"You have training after school today, don't you Dream?" Techno interrupts. "George is talking to me about starting a coding club, so you could grab it after training? We've got our first meeting next week, so we'll still be chatting over some details after school."
George hopes he has training. Not to take the jacket, rather that if he is free, the bastard might come along to the club.
"Tuesday and Thursday are my free days. I normally work in the library for a bit though."
Oh shit.
"But coding does sound cool."
Fucking shitting fuck goddamnit fuck shit bitch-
"Yeah, you should come," George says, as cheerful as one can be when their mortal enemy decides to gatecrash their nerd club.
Dream offers him a smile, before ducking his head and rushing out the door, cheeks flushed pink.
“You’d be smart to keep that boy around, George,” Techno comments, picking up his laptop and following him out of the classroom. “He’s a nice guy and he respects you a lot.”
George hums a reluctant agreement before wandering off to his next class, late again.
~~~
That afternoon, George wanders over back to his English class.
Techno sits quietly at his desk, marking papers, when George knocks softly on the door. Without looking up welcomes him in, pulling off his glasses and closing his laptop.
"Right, George," he starts, piercing blue eyes staring at the student who still stands in the doorway. "Let's get this over and done with."
He smiles in response to Techno’s kindly spoken words and wanders over to the desk.
"Tuesday afternoons, at ten past three? We'll advertise it as 'after school' obviously, but I'd expect you to be there before people start arriving."
George nods his understanding.
"In the computer lab, obviously, I'm not sure how many students have decent laptops.”
That was another reason why Techno was one of his favourite teachers. Anyone else would've gone off on some tangent by now, asking irrelevant questions about unimportant things.
"I'll sort out the admin and get people along, you can invite people too, obviously."
"I've come up with some ideas for people," George comments.
"Wonderful," Techno says, looking up from the calendar he'd pulled out. "Make a presentation if you have the time, it would seem a lot more put together than anything I can do."
“Hi, sorry.” The out-of-breath voice causes both Techno and George to look up suddenly to where a dripping wet boy stands in the doorway. “It’s still raining.”
“Yeah, no shit, sherlock.”
Techno frowns at the language but says nothing.
Dream smiles at George’s snarky tone. “I came here to grab the jacket, but I’m kind of realising you probably need it more than me.”
“I’ll be fine without it,” George huffs, shivering slightly at the removal of the soft fur around his arms. The jacket, still warm, is folded into Dream’s bag.
“I—um, yeah,” Dream stutters. “This was kind of the only thing I came for, but—uh.” He reaches an arm to rub at the back of his neck while Techno raises an amused eyebrow. “Do you need a lift home, George? With your bike and—”
“Nope. I can manage. Still got a lot to sort out here.”
Techno smiles cheekily. “We’re actually done here, and George doesn’t have anything this afternoon, or he wouldn’t be offering to start a club.”
If looks could kill, Techno would probably have a metaphorical dagger through his chest.
Dream, oblivious as usual, fails to notice this little kerfuffle. “I have some work to do, so I can stay if you need a lift?”
“Stop trying to help me, Dream, I don’t need it.”
Hands tightly gripping at the strap of his bag, George offers a clipped goodbye to Techno and pushes past Dream wordlessly.
“George, wait!”
He doesn’t stop, not until he reaches the door and looks out at the pouring rain. A lift from his worst nightmare doesn’t seem so bad anymore.
Speak of the devil and he shall come—Dream taps his shoulder, out of breath. “Are you sure, George? Your bike can fit in the trunk, it’s not a hassle.”
He shrugs off the hand and steps out into the rain. “I’ll be fine. It’s not that long of a ride.”
“Please, I don’t want you to get sick.”
“If I’m not here tomorrow you can blame yourself then, Dream. Goodbye.”
~~~
"Alright, welcome to the first coding-slash-nerd club session," Techno's voice cuts over low chatter. "It's mostly admin stuff, and to see if you guys are interested, really."
Things had been reasonably easy to set up, and a week after his conversation with Techno, George finds himself standing at the front of the computer lab. There are far more people attending—thirteen—than he thought. His friend Quackity waves at him from the third row, while Dream sits, excited, at the front of the class. His friend Sapnap sits next to him, dragged along for the ride. George recognises a few other people, namely Tommy and two of his friends from the year below him, and Karl and Corpse, polar opposites who weren't often seen apart.
"I don't know a thing about coding. But your compsci teacher would rather plot to take over the world than run this, so I'm here instead."
George, standing awkwardly behind where Techno is making his announcement, offers a small smile to Quackity over their teacher's shoulder.
"George actually knows how to do this stuff, so he'll be running this mostly."
He steps forward at Techno's words, offering a small wave to the students in front of him.
"Hi, um, I've been coding since I was like twelve, and I just wanted to teach other people like you guys and make a space where you can code whatever you want." He pauses, glaring at Dream. "It's good to see most of you, I'm excited to see what we can come up with."
"Do you want to introduce the first challenge, George?" Techno asks from where he's taken a seat at the back of the class.
"Yeah, uh."
The projector flickers to life behind him.
"In pairs or threes, we're designing an app that could help a minority group in the school or around the community." There are several groans and a few happy faces. George grins. "But because this is supposed to be a fun group, this task is optional. You guys can code whatever you want if you know how. I might get some prizes for the coolest stuff too."
Karl and Corpse share a knowing smile and immediately start typing things out onto their adjacent computers. Tommy begins loudly discussing ideas with his friends, and Sapnap—failing to distract Dream from whatever he’s typing—leans over to chat with Karl.
Based on the reactions around the group, he’s fairly confident they’ll have enough people for regular sessions, and a sigh he wasn’t aware he was holding is let loose.
“You got any ideas yet, George?” Dream pipes up politely.
The relief of success still present, George entertains him. “I’ve been a bit swamped with all this, but I’ll hopefully have some next week. You?”
“A couple. I’m excited to share them.”
George nods civilly. Damn, he’s managed to successfully start a club, and talk to Dream without the urge to slap the idiot or disappear through the floor? Things really were looking up. He laughs quietly to himself.
Techno clears his throat and taps his watch when George looks up. Oh yeah—running the club. Sheepishly, he smiles and begins to address the room.
"If you are interested we'll just take down your names, but think about what you might want to do and we'll see you next week."
In the next few minutes, mostly everyone has filtered out the door. From what he can see everyone wrote their name on the paper he gave out, and it leaves him staring down at the list happily. He’s the last to leave, turning off the lights and locking the door behind him as usual.
Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad.