Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dream really didn't give a shit.

His parents were concerned or whatever. His grades were slipping, and his patience for the next few years was already running thin. But he really didn't care.

Honestly, Dream was this close to dropping out, to beg his way into getting into online school. There was nothing keeping him here, nothing to learn that he couldn't figure out himself. Hell, half the time he knew more than the actual teacher did.

It didn't matter. Being at the top of the class or impressing those who didn't give a fuck about him or his academic performance.

He didn't care, and it didn't matter. That was, until it did.

Because George was in his class this year. Smart-ass, teacher's pet, ‘I’m gonna be valedictorian so don't even try,’ stupid british accented motherfucker George was in his class.

And there was something about him that lit a fire under Dream’s competitive side with furious, burning flames.

It wasn't like he was meaning to catch the other's attention in some rivalry he had made up entirely in his head. But Dream just couldn't wait for the moment, any moment, to prove George wrong. To correct him and show he wasn't some slacker who didn't give a shit.

Even if that's what he was, it didn't have to be so obvious.

“Oh my god,” Dream laughed in sly provocation, rolling his eyes at the explanation George gave for a problem that couldn't be further from the right answer, “You can't be serious. I thought you were the smart one.”

The other fumed at him, scoffing as he set his pencil down, George already annoyed they were put in these idiotic groups to discuss things he could do by himself. Dream, who had instantly rubbed him the wrong way with his half-ass attitude, was getting on his nerves.

He scoffed, gesturing at Dream, “If you know so much, then what did you put down?”

George glanced over at the other's blank paper, having some victory in his voice as he pointed out, “You haven't even written anything.”

Dream dismissed him, waving his hand like this conversation was boring him, even though it was quite literally sparking him alive to defy the great and mighty George like this, “That's because this whole thing is stupid. Who cares about completely another endless worksheet the teacher probably stole off the internet?”

“The people who actually want to do something with their lives.”

“High school isn't everything.”

George blew him off with a haughty, “That's what people who are going to flunk out of it say.”

“Big talk for someone who can't do a simple chemistry problem,” Dream shot back.

The other defended immediately, “You can't even tell me what's wrong with what I'm saying. I swear you just want to fight with me and have no other excuse to do so.”

“No, actually,” Dream breathed out, pointing down at the error George wrote, “You didn't convert this number right. You did it in grams instead of kilograms, messing up the whole entire problem.”

George looked at him unimpressed, his expression growing more sheepish as Dream showed him the actual way to do it, exhaling in annoyance when he found the other was, unfortunately, correct.

“Whatever,” George brushed out the defeat, “It's only because you aren't pulling your weight and helping like the rest of the group is.”

“Sure,” Dream grinned in his absolute success, “Keep telling yourself that.”

And that set off whatever one-sided feud Dream had begun into a full-fledged, heavily reciprocated war as they raced to the top of the class.

They didn't like each other, they did everything to make themselves look better and the other worse. They drove each other absolutely crazy.

Dream just couldn't get enough of it. More sharp words and irritated glances. George's seething attention and the sweet satisfaction that flooded him whole when he saw the other realize Dream was an actual threat to his class rank. The debate that would spring up when both of them got different answers.

It was wildly addicting. And, as an added bonus, was skyrocketing Dream's gpa up so high that it surprised even himself.

School, that he couldn't give a shit about. But George? God, he would do anything to get under the other's skin like George did to him.

“You didn't do the homework, Dream, again?” George mocked, sitting smugly on the desk next to him, even when Dream had asked very politely, or maybe rather tauntingly, for the other to move, “You know you're gonna fail this class, right? Or is that what you're trying to do?”

This time, unlike all the previous times before, Dream had genuinely spaced it and forgot about the assignment altogether.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, scribbling out answers before the teacher could collect it.

With a grin, Dream handed his paper in, shooting a wink at George with jeer of, “Thanks for reminding me. I owe you one.”

George huffed in indignation, which only grew to a crescendo when they were given their grades back and he saw, with complete disbelief, Dream had scored higher than him.

It started just like this. With a competition to win something Dream didn't even care about and George responded with enough pushback that it was motivating them both.

Dream's junior year started with picking out every single class George had on his schedule.

“Stop copying mine,” the other grumbled, seeing what Dream was up to immediately, as he made it obvious just to annoy George, “You can't handle these. I'm taking all AP’s.”

“Oh, but I can,” Dream murmured back, able to snatch the schedule from George's hands and cement their next year together as the other crossed his arms in exasperation.

He so kindly offered the paper back, which George took with a huff, “You want to always be second best? Fine. Whatever. Doesn't matter to me.”

Dream knew, they both knew, that the reason George wasn't really putting up a fight was because this was what they both wanted. To have some competition in this school where they rarely got any.

And they found it in each other. No way in hell they were going to let that go.

“Sounds good to me,” Dream flashed him a smile, spending his whole summer thinking about George.

Or- well, how to beat him in every single subject, obviously. To not only completely and utterly and undeniably win, but to make George lose.

The heated months rolled by in such an antagonizing simmer, Dream never wanting to be back at school more in his life. Fuck him for ever even considering dropping out, this was his whole reason for doing anything anymore.

Spite. Provocation. A challenge he couldn't resist from sinking his teeth into.

Maybe that's why he became so antsy as July dragged by so slow, anticipating the first day back, the bell ringing and George's glare and Dream's grin as he saw the other threatened by his very existence.

It was all a rush that morning, teeth brushed and shoes slid on haphazardly, Dream feeling his heart thud in his chest as he turned the keys in his car, just wanting to see him. See George.

When he didn't, surprised as he set his backpack down, earlier for class than he had ever been, Dream was confused. George always got here before him. It was some kind of power move, getting here and holding it over Dream's head to prove his superiority in time management or whatever.

The room filled with other students, five minutes, ten minutes. No George.

Dream almost began to panic, considering that George might have changed his schedule or schools or even countries.

He didn't know why he was reacting this way about his rival not showing up for school. In all honesty, it would probably be for the best if George wasn't here. If they didn't explode into arguments and debates and furious challenges every time they could possibly disagree with each other.

Barely a minute before the last bell rang, George walked into the class, promptly putting his stuff down at an empty desk as if he was completely unaware of the turmoil he caused.

Dream yanked his backpack up, quickly moving over to where George sat, placing himself in the chair next to him with a thud and a pointed scowl.

“You are late.”

He saw the corner of George's mouth twitch up, which only made Dream huff in indignation as the other breezily questioned, “Why do you care? Were you waiting for me?”

Dream decided not to dignify that obvious claim with an answer, asking instead, “Why were you late?”

“I had a meeting.”

“A meeting?”

“Yeah,” George shrugged with barely concealed pride, “Just student council stuff.”

“What?” Dream pressed, tone leaning into something close to offense, “Why didn't you tell me you were in that?”

George just looked at him for a moment, catching their eyes for the first time since he walked in, which made them both pause, George clearing his throat as he looked away, saying, “We're.. not exactly friends. Didn't think I needed to tell you something like that.”

Dream didn't know why he stewed over that comment for so damn long.

But he did. And part of him wanted to do anything to make George take it back, wanting the other's head to be filled as much with him as Dream did for George.

Even if it meant goading and taunting and driving him absolutely crazy.

Monday mornings started with AP physics, which Dream constantly bemoaned the cruelty of this class arrangement George had picked, his head down over his arms against the desk, and a pout on his lip.

“You did this to me, you made me have to think so early in the morning,” Dream huffed with a softened exhaustion pulling at his eyes.

“Who's the one who stole my schedule?”

Dream grumbled under his breath, burying his face down so he didn't have to look at George's. How his mouth always tugged at the corners, how he looked so pleased to see Dream show any signs of weakness. It was just too damn much when he barely shook the sleep from his brain.

But by Trig in the next hour, he was far more active and mouthy and was constantly getting yelled at for moving his desk right up next to George's.

Dream always rolled his eyes, shifting his seat hardly an inch away, claiming he and George were ‘working together’, even if everyone knew that was a lie.

After that, U.S History, and following that, French. All AP’s, of course, just like George claimed.

“You have to be kidding, right?” Dream asked incredulously, his brow creased as he looked at the next class on the list, “French?”

“Yeah, obviously. I already have two years of it, this is basically the capstone.”

Dream was suspiciously quiet as they walked to the next class, making George peer at him closer, “Did you not do the previous beginning courses?”

At the shake of the other's head, George was aghast, “How did you even get into this class?”

“I'm just that good.”

“You're so gonna fail,” George replied, almost giddy at such a revelation.

Though, in the end, Dream scraped a better grade by a few measly percentages, much to George's utter dismay.

Even on the first day, Dream had the audacity to correct George on a language he didn't even know and had the gall to be right.

“What the fuck?” George muttered in a low whisper.

“Maybe say it right next time.”

George whipped his head over to Dream, glaring at him for playing dumb in order to give George a false sense of superiority, “You lied. You did take the other classes. I can't believe this.”

“I promise you, George, I didn't,” Dream replied in genuine nonchalance.

“I'm so stupid for trusting anything you say,” George grumbled bitterly.

But, to make it worse, Dream proved he was telling the truth, showing that he had only taken one year of Spanish prior to this, George staring at the other's phone, absolutely, completely fuming.

“How would you know then?” George scathed.

Dream laughed, making the other's anger rile up even more, patronizing George by saying, “It's just common sense. I was surprised you messed it up so easily.”

The bell rang for his saving grace of a break, which commenced with George furiously packing his things, purposely refusing to look at Dream, and trying to get away from him.

He let out an annoyed huff when the other just trailed right behind him, George blowing out, “I am so sick of you.”

“Aw, Georgie, don't be like that,” Dream grinned petulantly.

“Don't call me that.”

But Dream disregarded that, taunting further, “All I'm hearing is you want me to eat lunch with you. And, I usually wouldn't, but in this case, I'll make an exception for you.”

At that, Dream got a door slammed in his face and an irritated, “Do not,” from George as he stormed away, especially as Dream only replied with, “See you after lunch. I miss you already.”

He couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he made his way to his car, his keys swinging on his finger and rife with anticipation for their next class together.

Dream slid into the seat of his car, thrumming his knuckles over the steering wheel, glancing for a moment at the cafeteria before pulling out of the parking lot and driving home. He compromised on a lot of things when it came to George, that was for sure. Actively trying and pushing himself to be better and doing homework, it was all a sacrifice he was willing to make.

But staying at school for lunch? That was almost going too far.

Even if some part of Dream wished George would have wanted him to stay.

In the last two classes for the day, AP Lit and a computer science course, George refused to sit next to Dream for the first few weeks.

He claimed that, by lunch, he couldn't stand Dream for a single second longer and he ‘needed his space.’

Dream felt the other students collectively groan as he now had to speak loud and far enough for George to hear him from across the room. He basically had to be moved closer just so he would shut up and stop interrupting the lesson for George's attention.

The day their desks were moved in English, Dream's snugly pressed against George's, the other had defeat written over every feature of his face.

“I just-” George let out a long exhale, “I can't fucking get rid of you.”

“I thought you knew this the whole time?” Dream murmured, gleeful as he leaned back in his chair, feeling as victory filled his lungs at every breath.

George's mood was only worsened when the class was paired up for a signature assignment, the teacher solidifying some vendetta against him by putting him with Dream.

“What did I do?” George lamented.

“Don't be so dramatic,” Dream sighed, a little disappointed in this pairing as well, since he couldn't best George by having an immensely better and bigger project than him.

“What did I do to deserve this?” George only whined more.

“You didn't have to be so smart and tempting and so goddamn infuriating,” Dream muttered, “I was basically forced to compete with you.”

“No,” George glared back, “You're just obsessed with me. I didn't do anything.”

“Oh, you do something every day, don't even deny it. If anything, you're the instigator.”

“What would I even do?”

Dream gestured over tk George in absolute disbelief, “Everything. You look at me, challenge me, practically beg me to prove you wrong.”

George shook his head at every single claim the other made, his jaw shifting in defiance, “Do you need attention that bad?”

“From you?” Dream laughed wryly, “Maybe.”

“How can you be so smart and so, so utterly stupid?” George cursed at the other's focus and how it had inexplicably attached to his, “I can't even understand it.”

“You like it.”

George gave him an unimpressed look.

“You need it,” Dream pressed, following George as he tried to make his escape, “You need this as much I do. I just don't deny it like you.”

“I'm not denying anything,” George grumbled.

“So you admit it?”

George spun around to face Dream, “I admit that you push me to do better, but you also push all of my buttons, somehow, every single one. It's driving me insane.”

“I drive you crazy?” Dream grinned.

“Yes.”

“Then we feel the same.”

George's eyes widened, then creased with confusion, but he gave up on figuring out what Dream was doing, turning away with his fists clenched and spewing obscenities at the bane of his existence that was Dream.

And it continued like this. George always on the defense, Dream looking for another fight after the last. Spending all his energy on assignments, seeking for the higher mark just to rub it in George's face.

Pulling all-nighters when the other had an edge over him, Dream getting huffy over tiny mistakes George would find. A constant battle, push and pull, a race to something Dream didn't particularly care about until George did. Until George wanted it.

It was creeping into the fall months, the first quarter closing in as they were neck and neck, as homework and projects and midterms loomed nearer.

Dream was looking for a room to study during his lunch break, forfeiting on food just so he could get the extra credit assignment he knew George didn't have time to do. In all fairness, Dream wasn't the most involved student at his school. Anything out of his own bubble, he usually ignored.

So, in any class politics, he couldn't name any person’s position if he tried.

He was a little surprised to stumble into a student council meeting, and even more surprised to find out George was president of said club.

The other went a little pale when Dream walked into the room, who was clearly confused and lost. As the smile then sprung up on Dream's face, musing about nonsense such as, “I was looking to join, could anyone point me to an application,” George yanked Dream outside.

“You can't join this.”

“Oh,” Dream held his hands behind his back, leaning down until he and George were eye level, “Why not?”

“It's mine.”

“You don't own the whole student council,” Dream scoffed.

“I'm not saying-”

But Dream cut him off, “Or, maybe you do? I saw that you were in charge. Is this true, Mr. President, sir?”

That for some reason stopped George right in his tracks, “Why do you- don't call me that, you idiot.”

Dream's face split with a wide grin at how flustered George looked, insisting, “Is it because you like it?”

“No.”

“It's okay,” Dream hummed, “I can keep it on the downlow.”

And, at that comment, George was pushing him away, spitting out remarks of, “Go away,” and “Don't come back,” and “You are banned from the student council room forever.”

Dream did not heed George's threats in the slightest, waiting at the door every day after lunch just to see the annoyed look on his face.

“You're like a damn puppy,” George muttered after a full week of Dream meeting him right out of the door.

“Can't you just say you're happy to see me?” Dream cooed, “Just once?”

“I'm not even exaggerating when I say I truly, deeply, hate you.”

“Oh,” Dream discouraged such a lie, “You would be bored out of your mind without me.”

“You're the most stressful person I've ever known,” George breathed out in an unsteady breath.

“But?” Dream hedged, and when the other didn't try to deny or deflect, he knew he was right.

“Whatever.”

George brushed him off, but Dream was nearly exhilarated upon hearing that. A small indication that he had an affect on George, one that wasn't just negative and vexing.

Dream began to get a little addicted to it.

The following Monday, he was figuring out how to weasel his way into student council even though it was so late in the year and he was pretty sure the teacher in charge of it hated him, Dream paused as he saw who was standing next to his car.

“What are you doing?” Dream asked, moving by the driver's side, causing George to look up from his phone under the soft shade of a tree.

“Are you following me again?”

“What?” Dream blew out, “No. You're literally right in front of my car.”

George just looked at the vehicle a few feet in front of him, as if he was trying to understand his fatally bad luck that seemed to plague him, “Of course that's your car. Of course it is.”

“No student council today?”

With a sigh, George, resigned to the fact that Dream knew his schedule to the very last detail at this point, replied, “No. It was canceled.”

They just stood there for a moment, Dream wondering if he should, or rather, if he was even allowed to ask about George's plans, but he did anyway, “So, now what are you gonna do?”

George looked back down at his phone, frustration evident on the way he chewed his lip, “My friend was supposed to take me to his, but he left early.”

“Don't you have a car?”

George shook his head.

“How do you get here?” Dream asked, curious to discover more about George outside of academics.

“Rides from friends. My mom,” he shrugged, “I just.. don't know how to drive.”

“What?”

“Don't sound so shocked,” George laughed dryly, “No one ever taught me. And if I can get driven around, then what's the point.”

Dream rolled his eyes in exasperation, “You're so lazy.”

George didn't reply, and there was a pause filled with something awkward. Knowing he couldn't just leave the other stranded, and ready to have his offer rejected, Dream asked despite it all, “You wanna go with me?”

“You?” George questioned flatly.

“Yeah,” Dream doubled down, “Me.”

“To your house?”

“Unless you want us to go to yours?”

George refused that with a shake of his head.

“Then mine?” Dream prodded, opening his door as an indication he was going to leave.

He expected the other to scoff or be annoyed at him for ever assuming he would get into the car with the likes of him. But George bulldozed over any of Dream's notions by quietly getting into the passenger's seat, looking at him until Dream joined him.

In his car. Together.

He felt a strange exhilaration in his fingertips, Dream ignoring the absurdity of this situation as he backed up, driving them over to his house.

“You're not just doing this to see where I live, right? To watch me through my window at night or something?”

George looked at him with utter disapproval, “No. I'm not you.”

“And what's that supposed to mean?”

With an accusing chuckle, George murmured, “Oh, don't act like you wouldn't show up at my door every morning just so you could spend any possible second annoying the absolute shit out of me.”

Dream was quiet for a moment as he pulled up to his street, “Do you really think I'm annoying?”

George looked at him with a grin, expecting this to be Dream teasing him, but there was something genuine and worried in the other's expression, so he sat back, his eyes down on his lap, as he gave a small admission, “Not.. really. Like, sure, you're aggravating and irritating and make me constantly question myself. But, I guess, in a way I can stand. In a way I would probably.. miss. If it stopped.”

“You're just buttering me up since I'm giving you free food.”

“I'm not.”

George pursed his lips at the way Dream just looked so damn pleased, aware he was always being pulled around by Dream's whims and the other getting him to say things he shouldn't, but it wasn't like it made him upset.

Even if he wanted to be.

Even if George wanted to mean it, undeniably, when he said he hated Dream. When he said he never wanted to speak to him again or see Dream's stupid face and his life would be so much better without him.

Because, honestly, Dream was one of the main motivators for everything he did. George got better grades and more credence from the teacher's and understood the material better just because Dream was always right next to him, always on the edge of overtaking him.

If he just wasn't such an asshole about it sometimes, then George probably wouldn't be as affected as he was.

“I could always teach you to drive.”

George glanced over with wide eyes at Dream's offer, his mouth opening to answer, but no words came out.

The other stopped the car in the driveway, keys hitting the cup holder, a soft smile on his lips as Dream said, “Only if you wanted. I wouldn't mind.”

“Oh, I- uh,” George stumbled over any reply, only mustering out a feeble, “I'm.. I'm not sure.”

And Dream just shrugged, getting out of the car with a musing, “It's fine. I get it. It is me, after all.”

George hurried out of his seatbelt, struggling with the handle as he scrambled to follow Dream inside, suddenly feeling like he had to explain better, “No, I just meant, like, I don't know if I would have time. And, I wouldn't want to make you waste your weekends with me doing something like that.”

“Like I said,” Dream murmured, leading George inside his house, “I wouldn't mind.”

He wished he felt anything different than he did at those words from Dream, but it was futile, George knew it as soon as he walked through the door.

As soon as Dream's attention drifted towards him in the first place.

-

Chapter Text

Despite everything he did, all Dream did to get a reaction, to get under his skin, George rarely ever got mad at him.

Well, at least truly mad. Mad enough to make Dream feel guilt tug his mouth down into a frown, mad enough that he wanted nothing more than to take back whatever he did or said.

Even if he just rolled his eyes and huffed his breath and argued even further to dig them even deeper into shit.

Maybe due to the semester closing in, slowly but surely, pressure building for finals and exams and an overload of AP’s that Dream was less prepared for than he boasted, it was making him snap at George more often than usual. A lack of sleep and growing headaches after squinting at computer screens was only making him increasingly irritable. In just a span of three weeks, Dream had made the other more furious than he had ever seen, each instance topping the last.

Tuesday morning, a few weeks after midterms, started with Dream waking up in the worst fucking mood and state of his life. George wasted no time in pointing that out.

“You look like shit.”

“Fuck. Off,” Dream bitterly spat, annoyed at everything. How his car was cold for the first time this season and he forgot a hoodie, how his cat spilled water all over his carpet, how he missed his alarm and his back-up alarm that made him have to rush and nearly be late to class. And especially how George would see him like this. How he could witness Dream at such a low point, in disarray and weakened from his usual cocky demeanor.

George was clearly taken aback by his words, but instead of laying off, he muttered under his breath in the exact told-you-so matter that made Dream want to dedicate his life to destroying George in the first place, “I knew that you couldn't handle this. Should've listened to me.”

“Why am I doing better than you, then?”

With a disbelieving expression set into his jaw, George defied that with an edged, “You aren't. We just checked the grades yesterday.”

Being the first thing to make him smile today, Dream gladly compared their updated marks, seeing as George's face fell when his previously near-perfect AP Lit grade had sunk down to a dangerously low A.

“What?” his eyebrows scrunched in confusion, “How? I don't- what was this assignment? What did you get?”

“Oh, you don't remember?” Dream mused, his finger tracing over the writing scratched into the wooden desk, his cheek resting on his knuckles, his grin devious, “We did that one together. I was filling you in on what we did last class, like the saint I am, since you so carelessly missed school. But.. you know, maybe I got a couple of answers wrong, here and there. Didn't happen to notice until you already turned yours in.”

George's gaze was puzzled, soft, not understanding what Dream was implying until he finished his sad excuse of veiled schemes. His eyes went hard, sharply digging into Dream's, something different in his tone than usual when he spoke, not in rivalry or annoyance, but genuine hurt.

“You- you sabotaged me?”

Dream didn't really know what reaction he expected, but it wasn't this. It wasn't how George's hands shook, tightly wound around his phone, how there was no sense of amiable sparring.

Only anger. Disappointed anger.

Not liking this feeling, leaning back in his seat and trying to pass off the weight of this act, Dream brushed it off, “You would've done the same thing to me. Don't even lie.”

“I wouldn't have.”

George's tone was flat, unhappy. Dream swallowed, regret crawling up his throat.

This wasn't fun. He didn't get what he was looking for in this. George snarky and countering with exaggerated irritation, swearing he would get Dream back, do something even worse. That upping the ante would make George deliciously vengeful.

Instead, Dream had tipped the scale, causing their balanced feud to just turn into a one-sided ambush.

“Okay,” was all Dream breathed, shame building in his stomach that made him sick, promising himself, right then and there, he wouldn't resort to anything like this again.

It didn't help this whole situation, after Dream had just gotten back on George's somewhat good side by groveling to the teacher to let George resubmit the assignment, that the other found out what he had done a few weeks ago. The damage was already cemented and only exposed when the grades were updated.

“A zero?” George hardly breathed,”I've- I've never gotten a zero. There has to be a mistake.”

Dream realized what it was, without even having to look. How it was a month ago, when he thought it would be justified. When it was all part of this game they played.

He turned away, speaking softly, “I, uh, I might have taken it.”

“You.. took it?”

Dream shifted, feeling hot with guilt over every inch of his skin as he glanced at the expressionless look on George's face, “I didn't- it wasn't on purpose, or, well, it was. But, but!” he frantically dug through his backpack, pulling out the sheet, “I still have it. Here.”

George took it, silent and serious, crushing the paper slightly with his grip, not saying anything, making Dream's nerves jump up. In this beat of tension, he was already antsy to rectify, defend, undo this when it was too late.

With no words, and biting harshly on his bottom lip in distress, George quickly excused himself out of the room without giving a single glance to Dream.

“Wait, George,” Dream called out after him, following right behind and waving a hand at the teacher who said he wasn't allowed to leave, the door clicking behind him as he ran to catch up with the other.

He placed a hand on the other's tense shoulder when George reached a dead end, Dream tilting his head to the side as he pressed, “George, come on. I didn't mean it.”

The other wouldn't turn around, and just spat, voice low, “Leave me the fuck alone.”

But Dream wasn't one to get discouraged, or to let things lie without making it worse first, and just insisted, “It's not a big deal. It's one assignment.”

“Leave. Me. Alone.”

Stubbornly refusing anything he would say, Dream became frustrated, not able to get George to move or respond, so he began reaching for what the other held in his hands, “Here, let me see the paper, I'll make him grade it, no problem.”

They struggled for a minute, George being forced to face Dream as he kept the increasingly roughened page away from him as well as he could. Though Dream wouldn't give up, trying to take the sheet as George resisted, as he spewed out, “Let go,” and “Get your fucking hands off me,” and, finally, “You're a fucking asshole,” as he shoved Dream away when he ripped the missing assignment from George's hand, his back hitting the lockers.

Dream's eyes were wide, his brow upturned as he saw how the other looked at him with such contempt.

“If you want to pull shit like this, Dream, I will never talk to you again.”

“George,” Dream stupidly attempted to ease, “It's really not a big deal, you're just overreacting.”

The other shook his head, “I mean it. You'll be nothing to me. Nothing. I won't even look at you. I won't acknowledge you.”

“Look, I'm sorry. I took it too far and-”

“This isn't a joke, Dream,” George countered, cutting him off before he could go on a spiel of lame excuses, “You can't mess with my actual future. You don't understand, you don't get that I need these grades. If I don't have this, I’m fucking worthless, so if you want to play these games, I’m done with you.”

George's lips pursed, muttering out a quick, “Shit,” at what he had said, turning on his heel with anger coursing through his veins.

Dream was left there, feeling like the air was knocked out of him as George walked away, swallowing down the shame of it all. Of crossing this line, of making the other genuinely upset with him. Of pushing George until he couldn't stand it anymore.

Dream vowed to never pull these dirty tricks again. That it wasn't worth the look on George's face, to hear the tightness in his throat and the knowing blink in his eyes that was meant to hide the wetness building.

He explained the whole thing to their physics teacher, and was able to get their grades swapped.

“Do you have to torment the poor boy? George works really hard, and I don't want you to ruin that for him.”

Dream nodded, looking down at his shoes. Aware of how everyone else was on George's side. The other was a bit arrogant, sure, maybe a little stuck-up sometimes, but he wasn't a difficult person like Dream was.

A student council president against the grating, competitive fuck-up.

The one who everyone thought would drop out, disappointed when he didn't. The one who made everyone else miserable just because he was.

And it only got worse when George wouldn't talk to him after that. For days. Even after Dream showed him that he fixed everything, for George. That he took the hit to his grade, just so the other wouldn't have the zero dragging him down. After he apologized. Again and again.

Even though he deserved it, at least to some extent, Dream's indignation began to rise at being ignored.

Filled with scorn.

Especially as he overheard George trying to switch partners for their English project with anyone, anyone.

“Oh, shouldn't you boys get along? You would do so much better as friends.”

“No,” George replied, “I can't be friends with him. He's terrible, and mean. Haven't you seen how much he acts up when I'm there?”

“Well, I can only switch you if someone else agrees to be paired with him.. but, well..”

George left the room angry, brushing past Dream, who he realized was eavesdropping on the exchange, saying the only sentence he had for a week, “Looks like no one fucking wants you.”

After that, George was away for the next few days. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. All went by as Dream just stared at the empty desk always beside him.

On Monday, Dream finally cornered him right after school, finding out George was on some trip the week before after prying the information from someone he never spoke to but knew the other did, begging for any details until they begrudgingly gave them up.

“You can't just be mad at me forever, George.”

That was the start of the biggest argument they ever had. Ever would have. Dream was a reckless, impulsive, immature, awful teenager. But he would grow out of it. Eventually. But not now, not when white hot anger was consuming him whole. Not when George wanted nothing to do with him and it was all his fault, but it shouldn't mean they couldn't move past it. It shouldn't mean this silent treatment was forever.

“I can,” George blew back, his jaw clenched and an unyielding glint in his eye.

“Actually no,” Dream refused, “You can't. I did one stupid thing, which I fucking fixed, by the way.”

“I don't owe you anything, Dream. You act like I do, but I don't.”

Dream groaned in frustration, “I was just getting too competitive. We're always doing stuff to each other, whatever it takes to win. How would I know there was anything off limits?”

“I never wanted to be in this- whatever it is,” George airily claimed, even if Dream knew that it was bullshit, “I was fine before you decided to target me, make me your enemy.”

“You say that if you haven't spent all semester trying to prove me wrong. That you wouldn't love to see me fail.”

George let out a breath, “Only because you started it. I couldn't just not fight back.”

“So, fight back,” Dream encouraged, “Do the same thing to me. I'll give you a free shot, and I promise not to go too far again. Get revenge and then we can do what we've always done, race for the top spot.”

But George was not so easily convinced, especially as what was in it for him? What would he gain if Dream only sabotaged his efforts? What was the point if he was better off without the other?

He wouldn't relent, “I just don't trust you. Look at everything you've done. And for what? Just to make me fail in front of everyone? You get off on that?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Dream snapped, “Just get me back or do something even worse, I don't care. This is how it's supposed to work. Us at war or whatever.”

“I never signed up for this, Dream. I was never looking for any competition. I was fine on my own.”

“Seriously?” Dream asked in complete, bitter disbelief, “As if you haven't done so much better because of me? Improved more than you ever would just because I was there? Honestly, George, you'd be fucking worthless without me.”

The other stopped completely at that, his eyes narrowed and sharp and tearing Dream right and half as he breathed, “I can't believe you would throw that back in my face like that.”

“No,” Dream tried, his face in his hands, attempting to reconcile his heedless running mouth, “No. That's not- you can't. You can't take this away from me. I want, just- I want it back. How it was before.”

“This is not a great way to get that. Really, I don't think you could have messed this up more.”

George tried to move around Dream, but he pleaded for him to stay, to give him a chance, “Wait, don't go, please. I swear I'm trying to mend things. You can at least give me that.”

“Why should I?”

Dream let out a chastising exhale, “I must mean something to you.”

“What?” George breathed out incredulously, “Like you're anything but a problem for me?”

“I know you don't just hate me,” Dream belligerently responded, “I know you care about what I think way more than you let on.”

George leaned his back against the wall when Dream continued to block the way, his chin tipped up as he laughed, mostly at himself, “You know? At one point, I actually thought, like the fucking idiot I am, that we could be friends.”

Dream just stared, stilling at the words.

“But you're just so selfish, Dream,” George accused far too close for comfort, making the other bristle, “You just.. use me. For whatever gain it is you're trying to achieve.”

“George, you know that's not how it is,” Dream encroached, “I want us to be friends. I always considered us to be, at least, to some extent. A friendly rivalry, with the only damn person I respect at this school.”

With a subtle ghost of a grin and a tilt of his head, George dryly replied, “Oh, I'm not falling for it again.”

“What do I have to do?”

“For what?”

Dream insisted, moving a little closer, “To make you fall for it?”

George scoffed, turning his head to the side, “I don't know if you can.”

“Name it. I'll do it.”

With a curious rise of his brow, George questioned, “Then, what? You'll do whatever I say, no matter what it is?”

“Sure, I mean, yeah,” Dream nervously agreed.

Any cordial expression fell from George's face, causing Dream's heart to sink in his chest, as he flatly replied, “Then flunk out like you were always going to.”

As George pushed him aside, walking away, and Dream not doing anything this time to stop him, he sank down to the floor, his head in his hands. He just wanted to sit there, wallow in his own misery, his own stupid decisions. But with each ticking minute, his mind was made up, solidifying his desire: Dream couldn't just let this go. He couldn't give up on this one single thing that gave him joy in the endless drudgery.

He didn't want it to all go to waste.

And, for the first time since his eyes caught on George, saw how his eyebrows lifted when he only got the correct answers and praised for it, how he couldn't wipe out his smug expression when he consistently performed better, scored better than anyone else; for the first time since Dream made it his goal to beat him, he forgot about all the stupid assignments. The AP’s and extra credit and getting weeks ahead in classes just because George was.

He got up off his ass and ran to his car, stumbling with the keys as he tried to unlock his door, racing to catch up, fucking come on, catch up, to George who had a head start, who was bitterly making his way home because Dream kept him after school too late to get a ride.

Chasing after him, catching up on a race he would never win, that's all Dream ever did.

He peeled out of the parking lot, determined to have this. Even if he always pressed George's buttons, strived for any sense of attention, even if it was bad, even if it was the worst attention he could garner. As long as it came from George, as long as his eyes stayed on him, it was worth it.

Even if he had to unfuck what he did, over and over until it stuck.

“Hey!” Dream called out of his window, honking his horn at George on the sidewalk.

The other refused to look, keeping his face forward and trying to go faster, embarrassed at Dream being so loud and brash and inconsiderate.

But Dream only rolled along right next to him, coaxing him with, “George! Just get in. I'll take you home.”

George gritted his teeth as Dream honked his horn again when he was given no answer, right in front of the rows of houses, causing people to look at them.

“Will you be quiet?” he hissed.

“Yes, if you get in.”

After a quick contemplation of his options, how there was no way to make an escape and being much slower than a car, George dropped his shoulders in defeat, annoyed as he yanked open the door.

“This is basically kidnapping.”

Dream gave him a grin, “Oh, don't be like that. I owe you for making you lose your ride.”

George just huffed, his arms crossed petulantly in the passenger's seat.

After a beat of silence, where Dream's smile slid off his face, something nervous and earnest taking its place instead, “I can make it up to you.”

“You just won't give up, will you?”

Dream shook his head solemnly.

George looked at him with complete bewilderment, “I honestly just don't get it? We never spoke until basically the end of the year last semester. Why are you, I dunno, so..?”

“Obsessed with you?”

George blew out a breath, knowing Dream was referring to how he had called him that before, “Not what I was gonna say. But, I guess so.”

“I don't know how else to describe it. You're just so,” Dream glanced over at the other, eyes nearly in awe, “Exciting.”

“What?”

“I fucking hated school. Every second of it. Didn't care about grades or ranks or, hell, even graduating. But you did. You made me want to- to try,” Dream explained, even if the admission was embarrassing, “To be something. To show I was as smart as someone like you.”

George looked down at his lap, a rising blush over his face.

Dream didn't notice, couldn't tell that the color over his own matched the other's, focused on the road, “And beating you, that would prove it. That would impress everyone- impress you.”

He saw the sincerity on Dream's face. He knew that the other was never intentionally cruel. Though George tried not to, he was already beginning to be swayed, even more by how Dream's voice softened, how so much warmth filled his endless apologies.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

“But, I know. I went too far. I was so competitive and got lost in doing whatever I could to win. I shouldn't,” Dream exhaled slowly, ''I really shouldn't have done that. I was playing dirty and didn't think about how it would affect you. And your future.”

Dream continued when the other stayed quiet, “To me, it's a game. Grades are only for show, brownie points, a score to settle. To you.. it's your life.”

George sighed, because despite it all, Dream was hard to stay mad at.

“Okay, I get it. Doesn't mean I forgive you.”

“Then let me try, let me, I don't know,” Dream tapped his thumbs over the wheel, “Let me take you somewhere.”

George glanced over at him, “Aren't you supposed to be driving me home?”

“Well,” Dream hummed, “Yeah, but I don't know exactly where you live, so I've just been driving around in circles.”

George looked out the window and saw that, indeed, they were back at the same spot Dream had picked him up at.

“But, I do know a place we could go. You could forgive me there, how's that sound?”

George narrowed his eyes at the other, unable to feel anything other than suspicious, “How do I know this isn't some trick? Some tactic?”

Dream's brows knit in confusion, “How would this be a trick?”

“I don't know,” George blew out in almost hysterical exasperation, “It's so hard to trust you, your intentions. That whatever you're doing isn't some kind of long-con, and you'll- you'll resort to anything to win, like-”

“Like what?”

George gestured at nothing, “Like- to seduce me.”

Dream pressed down on the brake a little harder than was necessary, his breath expelling as he asked, “Seduce you?”

“Well, yeah,” George doubled down instead of just taking it back, defending his words even if he absolutely didn't want to, “Picking me up, telling me how I'm your whole motivation for everything, I inspire you every day, trying to take me out. How is it not?”

“I wasn't-” Dream replied unevenly, “I wasn't even- like at all. Why, why would I do that?”

George scoffed dismissively, “It's exactly something you would do. I'm almost surprised you haven't considered it.”

“Well, I'm not,” Dream said, flustered, “And I don't think I would even try.”

George didn't say anything, feeling like he did too much already.

“Unless..”

His eyes snapped over to Dream, “Unless what?”

“Unless you wanted me to.”

George laughed. Laughed like he hadn't in a long time. Honestly, the last instance of it at all was probably with Dream, even if he didn't want to admit it. In the hallways between classes or in English when they were supposed to be quiet or when Dream would linger after the last bell just to talk with him more, the other could always so annoyingly accurately press right into George's humor.

He laughed through his fingers, “You're such a fucking idiot.”

“Oh,” Dream teased, grin rising at hearing the other's laughter, “Like it wouldn't work on you immediately. Come on.”

“Just thinking about you trying is- is just,” George shook his head in wide motions, “It's ridiculous. Like, the lows you would go to. I don't even know how it's you, of all people, who's threatening my grades.”

Dream just rolled his eyes, “Well, I know what my back-up plan is, if all else fails.”

“Oh god,” George chuckled, his lungs depleted from air, “I’m just giving you ideas now, aren'tI?”

“They always say, keep your friends close and enemies closer. I'm taking that seriously.”

George let his head fall back against the seat, finally giving Dream directions when he had made yet another lap of the neighborhood, “Take a left up here.”

Dream complied, feeling the corner of his mouth tugging up, unable to get rid of it after so long without this, without George's grin next to him. Without the other speaking and going back and forth with him on stupid, inconsequential shit.

George guided him to a stop, Dream pulling up to a curb, setting the car in park as he faced the other fully, no guile in his words or expression as he offered out, “Truce?”

George paused as his seatbelt slid from his hand, soft puzzlement as he asked, “What? You can't be serious.”

“I am.”

His eyebrow flicked upwards, ”You're giving up on our whole rivalry, just like that?”

Dream lifted a shoulder, “I don't necessarily want to, but if that would make it up to you, then..”

“No.”

“No?” Dream questioned slowly.

George slung his bag over his shoulder, his door ajar as he tsked at Dream, “It's the one thing you're useful for. You can't take away my only competition, just don't be such a dick about it.”

“I can do that.”

“Yeah?” George murmured, foot down on the pavement, looking at Dream with such sparking interest.

“I mean, it'll be hard,” George's eyes flashed at the innuendo as Dream continued, “But I'll power through.”

The other sighed in light amusement, closing the door as he looked at Dream, who was practically leaning out of his window, George prodded, “You can leave.”

“Aren't you going to go inside?”

George laughed, “This isn't my house. No way I'm giving you that to hold over my head. Still can't trust you, Dream.”

“You've been to my house,” Dream grumbled, “You met my mom.”

“And she was lovely, now get going.”

Dream huffed dramatically, but waved at George, who wouldn't budge until his car was out of view.

He didn't know why it bothered him so much. That there was such a lack of trust he had built up between them. Sure, all due to his own actions. It was just, when he was doing them, that was before he cared about the consequences. Before he really cared about what George thought of him. Before he wanted to see him happy.

Now, Dream sighed as he pulled up to his home, glancing over at his empty car, going over the long list of things he needed to do.

He just had to keep up with all the grades and projects and classes that were definitely a result of him biting off more than he could chew, make sure George had enough opposition to satisfy, and do it in a way to make the other like him enough to keep him around.

Dream sent his head down against the steering wheel with a groan.

Yeah. Easy.

He huffed at how he had tangled himself up so much in this, beginning a fight he wasn't invested in from the start, only focused on his competition.

Only thinking about that damn George.

-

Chapter Text

George tried to stay mad, he really did, to anything Dream would do or say or demand retaliation for after the fact.

He wanted to, ready to enact revenge and cause the other to be as annoyed and spiteful as he made George on those days that Dream seemed to have it out for him.

And he was mad, at how he let Dream walk all over him when he never allowed such a thing to anyone else. How he would indulge the other, let too much slide when the other flashed a grin, when George fell victim to the same thing as everyone else.

He wanted to stay mad, but he felt himself caving, every single time, no matter what. Dream just messed with his head too much, fuck if he knew why. The other could just talk his way out of anything.

Dream was good with his words. It was why the teachers always gave him a pass, why classmates wouldn’t be too bothered by any of his antics; Dream could get out of any trouble, any mishap, if he had enough time to speak away his wrongdoings.

George knew this was the case, but he was certain he wouldn’t be the same, he wouldn’t fall into Dream’s traps so easily. He could hold a grudge.

But Dream was good, he fit in phrases, jokes, charm into any space George allowed.

He would talk and find with just enough of it, that the other couldn’t stay that mad at him.

“I’ll do anything, George,” Dream whined, when George wouldn’t meet his eye, when he was playing hard to get and hard to please, “Just tell me, I’ll make it up to you.”

George’s resolve crumbled a bit, his stance to not give Dream attention faltering way too easily, as he flippantly responded, “Maybe you shouldn’t have been so mean to me in the first place.”

“You’re so much meaner to me, come on.”

That’s what made George turn towards the other, that’s what made his eyes flick down to the growing smile on Dream’s lips. Dammit.

“I am not,” George huffed, “I never do anything.”

“Oh yeah?” Dream’s head tilted to the side, “What about when you tripped me in the hall earlier?”

“You just ran into my foot right in front of you, not my fault. You’re the one who nearly got me expelled from school.”

Dream huffed a small laugh, his head tilting in such a delicate manner, making George swallow as the other responded, “I did not. Now you’re just lying.”

“No,” George shook his head in warning, “You sent that email to the principal, from my hacked account-“

“Okay,” Dream interrupted, drawing out the word as a dismissal, “It was just a little joke, and I just said I’ll make up for it.”

“It was unforgivable,” George claimed, even if the grin that was tugging at his lips told the exact opposite.

“I’ll drive you wherever you want.”

“You already try to do that,” George rolled his eyes, “I don’t need a ride.”

Dream tapped his fingers on the desk, “I’ll vote for you as student council president next year.”

“I won’t miss one vote,” George refused.

“I can blow you.”

His eyes had never shot over so fast, speaking out a quiet, dangerous, “What?”

Which should have been a clear indicator of the true underlying implication: “What the fuck is wrong with you, please stop talking,” but Dream soldiered on dutifully anyway.

“Blow you,” he needlessly explained, “Like a blowjob, with my mouth.”

George pushed at his shoulder to get him to be quiet, as they weren’t currently alone in an isolated room, but instead surrounded by people at school, “I wasn’t saying what because I didn’t understand, I was saying what to tell you to shut up.”

“Oh,” Dream nodded, acting as if he wasn’t doing all of this on purpose, George side eyeing the innocent, thoughtful face the other put on as he continued, “Shut up, as in, you’re going to put your dick so far down my-“

“Ugh, no,” George grumbled, placing his palm over Dream’s mouth, which was immediately licked, making George scowl and Dream look so smug when he pulled away, “You’re disgusting.”

“Says the one doing anything just to touch my mouth.”

And George scoffed and grew a little bit too defensive and indignant at the pleased smile crossing over Dream’s face and the redness blooming over his own.

He hated when Dream said stuff like this. Hated it because he didn’t exactly hate it.

And that annoyed George above all else. The cocky rise of Dream’s brow, his own abysmal comebacks, how George wanted nothing more than to resent the other but spent so much time doing the exact opposite. Him, of all people.

So, he did the most logical thing and enacted some petty revenge, justified since Dream asked for it anyway.

It was obvious to anyone, as it was such an often occurrence, that Dream could not keep track of his stuff for the life of him. George was genuinely in awe when he saw the state of the other’s room, assignments scattered everywhere, no order in any sense, that it seemed to be a miracle that Dream turned in anything at all.

Any “borrowed” pencil the other asked for would simply vanish from his hand, George made this mistake a few times before he caught on and was out of any and all writing utensils.

Honestly, it was a bit too easy. At a moment of weakness and distraction, George picked up Dream’s backpack and stuffed it in his locker, meaning to hide it until the other figured it out.

He thought it wouldn’t last long.

“Have you seen my bag?” Dream asked, something worried creasing his brows, not even noticing until they were well into the next class period.

“Bag?” George asked, playing absolutely dumb, “You sure you brought it today?”

He thought Dream would give him a look, catch him in that blatant lie, because of course he did, he couldn’t have gotten this far without it.

But Dream only seemed genuinely confused if he did or not.

George laughed as the last class was over, just waiting for the other to look over and see he was being messed around with, that George really could be the only possible culprit.

Though Dream merely waved the other goodbye, his expression somewhat troubled as he drove home for the weekend, no bag in sight, even as he searched frantically for it. Even as he scoured through his house and car, he had nothing come Monday morning.

“I can’t find it anywhere, George,” Dream said, a little distraught, “I must have left it here.”

George didn’t take it so seriously, not even then, sure the other would catch on, almost impressed at how this had somehow gone on for this long, laughing lightly, expecting Dream to blow it all off.

But the other wasn’t amused or angry, he just looked completely dejected, asking, “Could you help me? I honestly.. I don’t know what to do. It’s so frustrating, I haven’t lost something like this in forever.”

“Maybe you didn’t lose it,” George tried to hint, still playful, still antagonizing, still indulging in his revenge, “Maybe someone stole it.”

That’s when Dream went a little panicked, not getting that the thief was right in front of him, even if it really should have been obvious, too blinded by the absence of his backpack, all that was inside, and how it could so easily crumble down everything.

“I had everything in there, everything. If it’s gone, I’m..” Dream’s face twisted a little, because this could very well be his ruin, his finals tanked and projects unsalvageable.

“Hm, you know, I might have seen it in the hallway. But," George tapped a finger on his chin, “No, I can't be sure, but it could still be there.”

Dream was anxious now, his leg jumping under the desk, raising his hand with a clear of his throat for all attention to be turned onto him, requesting, “Can me and George, uh, go to the bathroom?”

The teacher shot them a wary glance.

“No, what?” George clarified with a bewildered, nervous laugh, not thinking that Dream would try to go right this second and now put on the spot, “He just wants me to go with him to find his backpack, he lost it, you know how he is.”

They were let out with a nod and sigh from the teacher, scolding a light, “Let’s try to not let this happen again, Dream,” which he agreed with a sheepish smile and a rush out the door, dragging George out along with him.

Dream was antsy, looking everywhere, scanning over every possible place it could be where the other had led him, finding nothing, much to his dismay. George nudged him even more, pressing into a sore spot he didn’t even know he was hitting, “Doesn’t look like it’s here, maybe I was wrong.”

He glanced over at Dream, and his grin faltered at what he had caused. Clearly, the other was trying not to cry, and failing miserably at concealing it. He blinked away the gathering wetness, turning to the side to get out of George’s view, as he brushed his arm across his eyes, muttering, “Shit.”

George felt the guilt sink its nasty teeth in, realizing he may have let this go on too far, trudging over to his locker as Dream sniffed behind him.

“I guess I had it the whole time,” George said, abashed and avoiding eye contact with Dream as he handed it over, not willing to admit he was in the wrong, waiting for the other to say something, but he remained silent, still not quite grasping what had happened, sure it was himself to blame.

When George finally looked up, Dream was just staring, mostly expressionless, and slowly took the bag from him, questioning, “You had it?”

“Yeah, well,” George lifted a shoulder to try to convey this wasn’t a big deal, “I thought I would be your only suspect when it was suddenly missing.”

Now that he could finally breathe again, the first thing that flooded Dream was relief, not really caring that it was gone, but just that he got it back. The tension dropped from his lined shoulders, his fists clutching it a little too tightly as he spewed out, still high strung, “God, I didn’t know what to do and- and-“

Dream sank back against the wall, “This is so much more stressful than I thought. Just one thing like this goes wrong and I’m fucking.. I have no chance. All my effort wasted, over some stupid backpack.”

George didn’t really know what to say, glancing at the floor when Dream rubbed at his eyes again, his teeth chewing at the inside of his mouth, his inhales clipped.

“You didn’t..” Dream swallowed, making George’s gaze flick up, “Did you look inside?”

“Um no? Should I have?” George attempted to joke, which fell flat, but at least the other was placated by his lack of snooping.

Dream furiously shook his head and was uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the day.

George couldn’t stop thinking about what the other kept secret in his bag, but his curiosity could not be satiated, his shame too great to bring this all up again, his regret making him vow to never mess with Dream’s stuff again.

He was a damn hypocrite for it anyway. At least the other didn’t point that out, at least he didn’t renounce George immediately and make him beg for forgiveness.

At least Dream wasn’t him.

Things were fine the next couple of days, but they had definitely been better. George almost wanted the other to corner him, to just give him no choice but to apologize, just so George didn’t have to do it all on his own, the words stuck in his throat and impossible to get out.

So, he didn’t. He just let it rest, hoping it would go away.

Dream had a little habit of passing notes to George in class, especially in ones that didn't allow for much discussion between them, stuck in lessons instead of chatter, so Dream filled that void with some quick words by pen on paper. It was usually something along the lines of:

“If you read this, you’re in love with me.”

“Tests answers on the back.” And, upon flipping the note, “You’re such an IDIOT, you actually fell for it??! You needed it that bad, George? Maybe study for once.”

“Check yes if I’m better than you, check no if I’m hotter than you.”

Other times, it would be nonsense, questions that George didn’t need or want to answer, scribbles, or badly done drawings of dicks.

This time, it was a conversation.

“I’m mad at you.”

George felt his heart jump to his throat when he read that, but he knew the other wasn’t really upset, so he wrote back, “No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“Why.”

“You made me miss two assignments with that little stunt. Two.”

“And you sabotaged me. We’re even. You told me to get even, remember?”

“Nope, you still owe me.”

George gave in without much of a fight, because he still felt guilty, he still remembered how distressed Dream was, how pinched his face was, so he relented, “Fine, whatever.”

“Give me your number.”

That’s when George’s face started to burn, keeping the note and fiddling with the paper until the teacher finally let them work on their own and talk.

He didn’t waste a second to blurt out, “Why do you want my number?”

Dream just scoffed, “Because I actually need it, you know, for our English project.”

“Oh, don’t give me the old, overdone English project excuse.”

“What?” Dream sputtered, “It’s not an excuse.”

“Sure,” George replied, blatant with sarcasm, needing anything to get away from his mistakes and back into Dream’s good graces, “I know you just want to text me every day, to call me in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep, dying to hear my voice.”

“What is wrong with you?” Dream’s face was red for once, and George’s grin was vindicated.

“You’re not so sly, Dream,” George sighed softly, jotting down his number anyway, handing it over.

“There’s only six digits.”

“You have to guess the last one.”

“I’m not guessing-“

“I’ll give you something if you get it right on the first try.”

Dream was interested now, “Like what?”

“You know what? Whatever you want.”

George should have been put off by the evil look on Dream’s face, the power he now held and seemed eager to wield it to the greatest extent, but he merely allowed it.

“Hm,” Dream bit his lip, looking over the numbers like it would give him a clue to the next sequence, finally landing on, “4.”

“3,” George corrected, much to Dream’s dismay, the other complaining how that should count for something, come on, he was so close.

George denied this, even as his heart was pounding, even if a little twinge of disappointment struck him at Dream not guessing it.

His heartbeat always betrayed him in times like this. And this only increased in frequency and intensity as Dream started to text him.

The contents were usually not so exciting in and of itself, more genuine attempts to schedule around the project they needed to do outside of school and the occasional argument or two.

They didn’t really talk in real life, being more prone to bickering and debating and pushing each other’s buttons, which then translated to their texts as well.

Even so, George felt his pulse jump as soon as he got the notification.

“This weekend isn’t going to work for me.”

“Why? We’re going to fall behind.”

“It’s just going to be busy at my house, we’ll have to do it another time.”

“Then let’s just pick another place.”

“Where? Your place?”

“I was gonna suggest the library.”

“No need for the library, we can just go to your house.”

“Dream.”

“Great, see you then. Love you.”

George knew he could argue, that it was probably going to backfire on him somehow, but he went through with it anyway, his pounding heart be damned.

It was Saturday, and he was completely calm, completely normal.

He tried to tidy up his room in an effortless way, like he didn’t care that Dream was here, that the other was stepping over his carpet and greedily taking in George’s space and things with eager eyes and hands. He tried not to be so embarrassed.

“Your bed is so comfortable,” Dream flopped right down on the sheets after touching all of George’s little knick-knacks that he could find.

“Why are you on my bed?”

“Pretty roomy, too,” Dream ignored the other’s question, looking up with a grin, “We could both fit, I could sleep in here.”

“Get off,” George shooed him down onto the floor, his voice only a little shaky, “You’re not sleeping anywhere near me.”

He expected more of a fight, but that’s when Dream started to open up his drawers, his interest piqued when the other started to rush over a little too hurriedly.

“Stop it,” George smacked Dream’s hand, “We need to start working on the project. That’s the whole reason you’re here.”

“Rude,” Dream pouted as he rubbed his hand, “You haven’t even offered me a drink. I’m your guest, George, where’s the hospitality?”

“If you need a drink, there’s a sink in the bathroom.”

Dream huffed, “How can I focus when I’m about to die of thirst? If I’m practically starved?”

“Why didn’t you eat before you came over here?”

“Because?” Dream scoffed, like it was obvious, gesturing dismissively, “I wanted to eat here.”

Thus, George had no choice but to cook some pizza bites for them, glaring at Dream, who kept opening the oven door every five seconds, delaying their meal time, and denying he was letting any heat out.

“We’ll never get anything done at this rate,” George griped.

“Oh, stop whining,” Dream said, burning his mouth on the food he just took out, “We’re so far ahead. Meeting every weekend is overkill.”

“No, it’s being prepared.”

“You just want an excuse to see me.”

George laughed, “Yeah, right, I’m doing everything I can to get rid of you.”

Dream lifted his shoulder in a shrug, “Semester’s almost over. You’ll have a month free then.”

“That’s.. true,” George looked down at the counter, getting a roll of eyes from Dream as he mused, “Can’t wait.”

He was not willing to admit it now or in the coming weeks when he insisted they needed to meet and finish the project, Dream thankfully not pointing out the minor tweaks they made for basically no reason in the hours they spent at his house; no matter what, George would not admit the truth of Dream’s accusation.

It wasn’t like George was lonely. It wasn’t like he didn’t have any friends, like he was some outcast and never knew any human connection.

He did. It was just that none of them were like Dream.

Sure, they fought constantly, they were rivals at heart, competing for absolutely anything and everything. Dream could get on George’s nerves like no one he had ever met, challenging him in ways he’d never been before.

He put up a fuss when Dream had somehow snuck his way onto the student council, effective next semester, saying it was only something to add to his college application, but George knew better. He fumed when Dream heard about the week-long trip the club took.

“We can share a room, George,” Dream had teased, a not so subtle implication in his tone, “I don’t mind.”

“You’re just copying everything I do,” George had muttered, “Following me around like a damn dog.”

And Dream had grinned, like he always did. And George couldn’t stay mad, and it infuriated him that Dream would get his way, every single time. That he was the one who let him have it.

Every assignment, their only goal was to best each other, every final was just a way to rub it in the other’s face at the few points higher they scored, the mere percentages more they received. It was always a race, a better gpa, better scores, all to show that they were better. But, between all of this, being so focused on the other, a friendship was forming, a mutual respect.

And this time, it was going to stick.

George was more disappointed than he thought as the last bell rang, as winter break was now beginning.

Dream was all relief and musings, antsy for a break, for time he rarely had anymore after putting his whole life into school, “Finally. Finally. I’m going to actually sleep at my desk, I don’t care, I’m playing video games until I’m physically sick, and then I’m playing more.”

“Very productive use of your time.”

But Dream just shot George a look, “Don’t give me that. I never get to anymore. I’m deprived. Besides, you’re probably on your computer more than me.”

“What?” George laughed, “Are you spying on me or something?”

“No, we’re friends.”

“We’re friends?”

“Well,” Dream conceded with a knowing grin, “I friended myself on your account.”

“Oh my god,” George muttered, his movements growing a little slower as they reached the parking lot, as Dream swung his keys in his hand, as the semester had officially ended and he was reluctant to let it go, “You really only have one trick, playing dirty, so I have no other choice but to interact with you.”

“Yeah,” Dream mused, happy as he reached his car, his freedom to get home and stay there, “And it’s working better than I thought.”

George just scoffed a short laugh, lingering, causing Dream to offer, as he often did, “Want me to take you home?”

“No,” George rolled his eyes, “I’m good.”

“Or my house?”

Dream was obviously messing with him, but George’s eyes shot up anyway, huffing out a petulant, “I don’t need a ride from you,” as he trudged away, Dream grinning as he settled into his front seat.

He knew George would never admit it, that they were friends, that they got along a little better than academic rivals should. That he was waiting for the suggestion just to snub Dream, even if that’s not what he actually wanted.

It was gratifying all the same.

He was settled at his computer the moment he got home, and maybe part of it was about distracting himself. Just earlier this year, this was all Dream wanted to do, drop out and play video games. But he could do that whenever, leaving it for the breaks, and wasting his time with George for the few short years he could.

As long as he had some way to entertain himself.

Dream stuck successfully to his resolution, spending the last few days free of obligation and glued to the screen.

He felt the desk under his cheek when he woke up at an ungodly hour, Dream pulling a face at the blaring sound of his phone next to his ear. He didn’t want to take it, but it would not stop ringing, no matter how much he ignored it. Dream blinked with distaste at the caller, confusion and disbelief and the strange night making him think he was asleep as he looked down at the name.

He answered, the glowing light of his computer the only thing illuminating his room.

“Hello, Dream?” The other laughed on the other end.

“George?”

“Yes!” Was the exclaimed reply, George sounding off, too light, too amused at everything, “Hi, it’s me. You’re not doing anything, right? No, I mean, of course you’re not, so come pick me up.”

“What?” Dream’s eyebrows drew together in bewilderment, not quite understanding with his mind all scattered, “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

“I need a ride.”

“Why?” Dream expressed, more consciousness flooding in, even though it didn’t make the situation any clearer, “Why’d you call me?”

“I just said,” George blew out in soft exasperation, his smile evident in his words, “You need to come get me, I had,” He now whispered into the phone, “A few drinks.”

After prodding out some more details from George, on his whereabouts and how he had gotten there in the first place, Dream found himself shivering in his cold car at nearly four in the morning, picking up the other with a scowl on his face.

George did not seem to mind Dream’s mood at all.

“Finally,” The other dramatically said, making himself comfortable in Dream’s car, “You took forever.”

“You should just be grateful I’m even here, George,” Dream grumbled, “Say thank you, right now.”

“Thank you, Dream,” The other complied immediately, mostly genuine, but there was a little something patronizing in his words.

Dream just tsked, annoyed at this, “Why couldn’t you get any of your many, many friends to give you a ride, huh?”

“They left me,” George pouted, his eyes fixed on Dream, who kept straight on the road, aware of the attention as was evident by the blush rising over his throat and face, “Everyone left. And I thought, who is someone that never leaves me alone? You,” George pressed a finger into Dream’s shoulder, “You who’s dying to drive me places and do who knows what in the backseat.”

“I am not,” Dream huffed, knowing he had no real chance to refute it when George couldn’t properly listen anyway, “Why are you even drinking? It’s so irresponsible, George. I thought you would know better.”

“It’s basically legal,” The other excused himself of any wrongdoings, “Like, in London, I would be old enough. Well, in one more year, but that’s irrelevant.”

Dream paused for a moment, asking in the most neutral tone he could manage, “Is that where you’re from? London?”

“Where else?”

“I dunno,” Dream replied, “I was always just curious.”

“Hm,” George drifted a little closer to the other, “That’s weird.”

“It is not weird, you idiot,” Dream admonished in exasperation, “You’re weird. Why are you going to parties anyway? I didn’t know you were into that.”

“Why? Are you jealous or something?”

“What? No?”

George grinned, “Well, you can come with me to the next one, just so you’re not so sad about not being invited.”

“I’m saying it’s stupid for you to go, not that I want to,” Dream said back, “And, besides, I don’t drink.”

“Because you’re not allowed to?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

George considered this for a moment, “You can go with me anyway. I can drink enough for the both of us.”

Dream wasn’t so turned off by the proposition, except for that last part, and started to discourage the other with, “I don’t think that would be a good idea-“

“Wait,” George interrupted him, looking at the stop sign they had currently pulled up to, the blinker flickering, only a few blocks from George’s street, “Where are we going?”

Dream looked over in bewilderment, “To your house?”

“No,” George protested, his hands over his face and a bit of a delirious smile on his lips, “Are you kidding? If I go home like this, my mom will kill me.”

“Then where are you planning-“

“Your place,” George insisted, like it was obvious, like that was the plan the entire time, and Dream was too stupid to remember, “Take me to your place.”

“Seriously?” Dream prompted.

“Yeah, I’m not risking getting grounded.”

They just looked at each other, George just waiting for the other to follow the directions, and Dream waiting for George to break and say this wasn’t where the night was headed, that Dream wouldn’t have to deal with this and be tasked with George sleeping over with him, drunk and downright disorderly, with whatever the hell that look on his face was.

But this, indeed, was the reality, as George stayed stubborn.

Dream griped as he turned the car around, “You owe me so much for this. You’ll never live it down.”

“I said you can go to a party with me, that’s my repayment.”

“I don’t want to go to that.”

“But you should,” George basically begged, but Dream clicked his tongue, replying, “It’s a terrible repayment.”

“Why? Did you want something else?”

Dream didn’t have a chance to reply by the time George was already grinning, “Oh, I see. You want something back at your place.”

“What-“ Dream struggled, his breath nearly knocked out of him as George continued on, “I get it. We’ll be all alone in your room, you want one of those special favors.”

“That is not what I said.”

But George just kept smiling at him, like he knew otherwise, nodding with a wink at Dream’s denial.

Ugh, Dream thought, as he pulled into his driveway, as he had to get them inside as quietly as possible, having to keep George quiet as he wouldn’t stop laughing because he found Dream shushing him so hilarious, only silenced with a hand over his mouth, which he bit, causing Dream to glare at him.

“Ugh,” Dream lamented, as he had to drag George up off the floor when the other fell and insisted Dream carry him, eventually getting them with a closed door behind them.

“I need clothes.”

Dream looked over at the other warily, almost expecting him to be completely undressed, but he wasn’t, thank fucking god, “You have clothes.”

“No,” George whined, pointing down at his shirt with distaste, “It’s all dirty. And uncomfortable.”

“Can’t you just-“

“Dreammm,” The other wouldn’t stop complaining until Dream finally said, “Fine, I’ll- whatever, you can borrow some of mine.”

George happily took them.

Dream set up a little makeshift bed on the floor, trying not to think about the fact that George was changing into his clothes, he was wearing his clothes, as the other got ready for bed in the bathroom, but he really couldn’t focus on much else. Wondering if what he said in the car would be brought up again.

But George merely entered the room, mumbled something unintelligible, and flopped down on Dream’s bed, falling asleep immediately.

After some unsuccessful attempts to move George, Dream took the floor bed, so annoyed at this whole situation, but not nearly annoyed enough, because it was George.

Who, Dream found, was gone in the morning by the time he woke up.
-

Chapter Text

Dream went to two of those stupid high school parties that month.

George had spilled the details while he was drunk, giving out the time, location, even what he thought Dream should wear, which was a little unnecessary, but the information was still floating around in his head, waiting to be utilized.

Especially as George had gone absolutely radio silent ever since that night Dream picked him up.

He sighed, leaning back on his chair, genuinely debating if it was worth it to go. Just to maybe see George? To accept an invitation from someone he didn’t even know if he had the power to extend them? If George ever meant it?

But Dream pulled on his jacket anyway, muttering annoyance as it was the one George had suggested, but that was all a coincidence, not affecting his decision in the slightest.

Even Dream knew that excuse was bullshit as he sat in his still-running car, trying to see if he could spot George, if he was even here at all.

In the end, he got out, slipped inside, telling himself he could always leave, Get out before anyone even notices and never mention this again because the whole idea was stupid in the first place and-

Dream’s thoughts were interrupted by the sheer shock on George’s face, his eyes wide and sticking directly to Dream, as if he was convinced he was imagining it.

“Thanks for the invite,” Dream murmured, standing right in front of George now and taking no mercy despite the other’s flushed cheeks and sharp gaze.

“What are you doing here?”

“Someone begged me to come here the other day,” Dream couldn’t help but tease, “Right before they fell asleep in my bed.”

“I don’t remember that,” George stated firmly, but there was something skittish in his flicking gaze, “I don’t remember anything about that night.”

“Really? None of our conversation?”

George shook his head.

“Nothing of what we did?”

Even that, George still denied knowledge of, though the redness on his face and the stammering of his words made Dream’s eyes narrow and his grin grow wider. If he really didn’t know, he would press for what happened.

But George was aware nothing really did.

“Fine,” Dream sighed dramatically, glancing over to the crowds of people and the brimming wreck of whoever’s house they were in, “But I’m here, so..”

George, who was already on the tipsy side, gave in with a slump of his shoulders, knowing this whole situation was his own doing and he would have probably called Dream to come get him at the end of the night anyway, and offered, “You want a drink?”

“No.”

With an exasperated look that was just giving away how flustered George was, he questioned flatly, “You seriously went to this party and you’re not even going to drink?”

“Yeah,” Dream hummed, “I told you I don’t drink.”

“When?”

“Last time.”

George just huffed, ignoring that because he didn’t want to talk about it, “Then what are you going to do?”

“I dunno,” Dream lifted a shoulder, “Watch you?”

“Watch me?”

Dream flashed a smile, “You said you could drink enough for the both of us, I’m interested to see what that entails.”

George just rolled his eyes, taking the last mouthful from his cup, pouring another while Dream raised a brow, but it was still half full when he left.

Despite whatever threats or promises he made, George found himself having difficulty drinking in front of Dream. Partly because he knew the other didn’t approve and was disappointed in him for doing so, but also because he was.. nervous.

He didn’t want to get drunk around Dream. He didn’t know what he would do. 

That was the part that wracked his nerves.

So, George would sip meagerly, trying not to let his heartbeat pound too loudly when he saw Dream’s eyes on him every time he did so, dark and imploring.

Because of this, and the fact that Dream had shown up fairly late, not much happened at this crucial life event of his first-time high school party. Though, Dream did expect it to be so much worse.

Everything he avoided, all in one place. Insanely loud music he had a distaste for, his classmates that shared a mutual annoyance with him, and everyone doing stupid things when there was no real point to it.

But George was there.

George who didn’t seem to be able to let Dream out of his sight, watching carefully what the other did, when he talked and joked with a few people that George didn’t even know that Dream knew. He hovered, as if he felt like he couldn’t do anything else.

And Dream sort of kind of really fucking liked it.

“You guys wanna play?” Someone asked, waving a glass bottle in front of Dream’s face.

“Um, what?”

“You don’t have to,” George commented to Dream, but he looked over to the growing circle of people, telling the guy, “But I think I will.”

Dream scoffed, but the other didn’t budge, acting like it was his dying wish to play spin the bottle and that Dream was a baby for not letting him join in on the fun.

So, Dream sat on the floor, purposefully not looking at the smug expression George wore.

He never actually got a chance to have his turn, as the amount of people made everything go so slowly, and the stuttered excuses and embarrassment of where the bottle landed made Dream roll his eyes.

Until it was George’s turn.

It was right about then that Dream realized that they were sitting almost across from each other, that there was a high chance that it would spin right on him.

His heart leapt to his throat, and he could feel George looking at him. He remembered how the other had pulled him to join, even if there was this possibility. Maybe especially if there was this possibility.

But that all mattered for nothing as it spun just a few people past him, Dream’s annoyance flaring too hot at everyone’s immediate hooting and hollering as the girl it landed on was one of George’s friends on the student council. In that raucous, Dream excused himself to no one with a mutter of, “This is taking too long,” not a glance spared on him except George’s eyes that followed him out of the door.

Dream didn’t see that George was only given a kiss on the cheek, because he told himself he didn’t care anyway. Not if they backed out or they spent the whole seven minutes in heaven.

He didn’t ask either, when George sat out with him on the lawn a few minutes later, when Dream only said he had gotten too hot and overcrowded to stay inside another second.

They didn’t mention it on the ride home, only George nervously blurting out the time of another party, the last one of the year, only getting a hum from Dream as a response.

He had no idea why he brought it up, since it didn’t seem like Dream was into the whole party stuff, when George didn’t even know if the other only went there just to see him at his weakest, drunk and far too revealing.

It had been weeks since then anyway, and, this time, George didn’t even want to go. No matter how much people were talking about it, the things they were going to bring, everyone that said they were going, George was reluctant.

He dragged his feet the entire day, but he hitched a ride the moment he got a text from Dream, asking, “Where are you?” 

“Right here, idiot,” George typed back, trying to hide the flush on his face, the urgency in his searching eyes, rolling them when he saw Dream. He fumed a little when he got his drink, mostly due to embarrassment, indignant at how Dream had pulled him here, how he had dropped all the nothing he was doing just because the other called.

So George cornered Dream into some stupid competition to get back at him.

But Dream kept winning. George felt the collar of his shirt grow tight when he was now sockless and shoeless in a game of strip poker before Dream called his complete, but thankfully swift, victory. He threw the paddle after a game of table tennis, only one damn point away. George was growing increasingly annoyed as he fell just short of a win, muttering his curses after Dream bested him at darts.

“You’re just mad that you keep losing,” Dream taunted, making George instantly defensive and huffy, because he definitely was.

“I’m not,” He grumbled, “You’re just cheating or something.”

“How am I cheating?” Dream both laughed and questioned, “It’s not my fault you're just bad at everything, George. Just get better, simple as that.”

He wanted to scream, Dream always made him want to scream, to pull at his hair, even if this was all George’s doing, vying for something that could one up the other. 

“Fine, last game,” George breathed out in a mutter, “All or nothing, whoever wins this wins the entire night.”

“Oh come on, that is not fair.”

George gave him a reproachful look, “No, all of the ones before didn’t count. There was no real penalty, this time,” He held out his barely touched cup, not paying much attention to it, going to these parties for a distraction, but Dream being here was plenty distracting enough, “Loser has to drink.”

Dream rolled his eyes, “That’s so stupid, why would I agree to that?”

“Because it’s the rules.”

“I just lose either way,” Dream said, exasperated, “I want something else.”

“Like what?” George expressed with a shake of his head.

“I don’t know,” Dream grinned, something hidden in his tone that told George the other knew exactly what he wanted, which made him swallow, “What do I want, George?”

George scoffed, “I don’t know, probably something dumb.”

“Can I have it?”

Even knowing what it was, or what George suspected it could be, he gave in, “Fine, yeah, whatever.”

Dream laughed, already basking in his upcoming victory, and then proceeded to lose at a game of pool.

“Wait, what?” Dream’s brow drew up in confusion, “This- there’s no way.”

George just pushed the drink in his face, his grin wicked and his laugh even more so, “No, Dream. You lost, you actually lost so bad. You suck, now drink.”

Dream glared at him, “How is this the only one you win? Have you been leading me on or something?”

“Can you not be a sore loser, just this once?”

“No,” Dream grumbled, “Because it’s not fair and I was probably set up and you’re cheating and I hate you.”

“Oh, now I’m the cheater?”

“Yes,” Dream blew out in a scoff, “Obviously.”

“How?”

Dream didn’t have an answer for that, so after a huffed exhale, he took the cup from George, looking at the contents with complete distaste, “I’m not drinking all of this.”

“Just one sip.”

With a quick scrutinizing look to see if George was letting him have a mercy, Dream grumbled the entire time until he took the smallest swig of the drink, immediately pulling a face.

“That is disgusting.”

George just hummed with great amusement as he was handed back the cup, “Dramatic.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I am not,” George disregarded, “Now say you’re a loser and I’m the best.”

Dream narrowed his eyes, “That wasn’t part of the forfeit.”

“I’m pretty sure it was.”

“No, and I’m not saying it.”

George couldn’t help his grin rise, “Oh, but I let you off easy. It was supposed to be the entire thing before you started crying and whining, so you still owe me.”

“What?” Dream expressed, “I wasn’t crying, what is wrong with you?”

“You did,” George laughed, “And you have to tell me what you were going to make me do if you won.”

“I’m going to get it in the next game I win, so I can’t tell you.”

“This was the last one, the final competition,” George chided, “All or nothing and you so stupidly lost.”

“We can do one more.”

“Like what?”

Dream shrugged with a huff, “I don’t know, something I’m good at and guaranteed to win.”

George did not heed such a request, instead pestering Dream, “How about spin the bottle? You didn’t get a turn last time, we can play that.”

“That’s not a contest,” Dream muttered, “There’s no way to win.”

“Not with that attitude,” George attempted to tug him to the growing circle of people, but Dream refused with a shake of his head and unmoving feet.

“I’m not playing that.”

“Why not?” George goaded, still pulling at Dream’s sleeve.

“Because,” Dream shooed the other’s hand away, “There’s no point, I don’t want to kiss random people.”

“Then why did you want to before?” George insisted, poking at Dream, “You jumped in the second I wanted to, what’s the hold up now?”

Dream neglected to answer that, instead deflecting with, “I would rather finish your drink than play.”

“Those aren’t the options.”

But Dream was ignoring George, since he was laughing and teasing and driving him insane, trying to grab the cup from George’s hand, grumbling, “This is what you wanted, for me to drink.”

“No,” George reprimanded in great humor at Dream’s petulant state, “I wanted you to play spin the bottle, but all you’re doing is crying like a little baby.”

“I’m not.”

“Wah, wah,” George imitated the cry, making Dream’s annoyance grow, the struggle for the drink becoming more of a fight.

“Shut up,” He griped, “You’re the one who begged me to be here.”

“I didn’t,” George hissed a little, warning Dream to quiet down as the other had only gotten louder, and was only sure to draw attention.

“You did,” Dream accused, “You’re taking any excuse to see me, calling me, running over here as soon as I texted you. It’s so obvious.”

George became more tense at those words, realizing how transparent he was and irritated how the other saw right through him, making their bickering turn into an argument as he fought back with, “Then why are you here? Why did you even come to this besides seeing me?”

“Maybe I decided to go to parties and get drunk and ruin my future.”

“Shut up.”

“Isn’t this so fun, George?” Dream taunted, “Let me finish that drink for you.”

“No, it’s mine, stop-“

Which was when Dream was somewhat successful in getting the cup, but only in a way where it spilled over both of them since George refused to give it up.

“You’re such an idiot,” George pressed, his face and ears hot as he saw that they had gotten notice over this little quarrel, and quickly pulled him and Dream out of view and earshot.

“George,” Dream blinked, his words slow, “Why are we in a closet?”

“Because,” He responded flippantly, “You’re causing a scene, like you always do.”

“Oh, I’m causing a scene? You’re the one who spilled your fruity little drink on me,” Dream laughed dryly, pointing an accusatory finger nearly against George’s chest. 

“It’s not fruity,” George huffed, “It’s just sweet, so it tastes better and-“

“I tasted it, that’s not true,” Dream cut him off, but George continued over him anyway, “And, it was your fault it spilled, trying to steal it from me.”

“You said I should drink.”

“I didn’t. You just lost.”

“You said I needed to come to this party for you.”

George blew out a breath in frustration, “I never said that, I was just,” He felt like he was being pulled apart by the seams at how Dream looked so smugly unconvinced, “I just told you about it and- and I wasn’t even planning to go, the only reason I did was because you were already here.”

He realized the mistake as soon as he expressed it, “Oh shit.”

“Really, George?” Dream preened with interest, “You that desperate to see me?”

“No, I didn’t, I’m not,” George groaned in annoyance, wanting to tear his hair out, not knowing why Dream constantly poked at him, why it affected him so much, why he was so goddamn embarrassed by it, “I don’t know.”

“Says the know it all.”

George flashed him a warning look, but deflated a bit, because it was dark and late and Dream had already picked up on too much anyway, “I don’t know, we have a weird relationship-“

“Relationship?”

Shooting daggers at Dream, George amended with, “A weird thing, and we saw each other all the time, like, I couldn’t get rid of you, and I guess I got used to that.”

“You’re like…” George trailed off, hoping to never finish his sentence that he should have never started, but Dream only looked at him expectantly, as if he was willing to wait the whole night if need be, so George muttered out, “Exciting or whatever.”

“I excite you?” Dream murmured.

“Dream,” George replied flatly and scolded, “You know what I mean, shut up.”

“Yeah,” The other replied, so proud of himself for pulling out this admission as he sat on the ground, sighing contently, “You’d be so bored without me, you wouldn’t even know what to do with yourself.”

George watched the other’s descent, his knees crossed, arms folded, and back pressed against the wall, asking incredulously, “What are you doing?”

“Sitting,” Dream hummed.

“I just brought you here to calm you down, we’re not staying.”

“It’s nice in here,” Dream commented, his exhale long, “Quiet.”

George just stood there for a moment, hedging, “Well, that’s fine if you want to hide, but I’m not just going to sit in a closet with you.”

“You can’t leave me in here, George,” Dream basically accused, “All alone.”

After a second of sighs and huffs, as he didn’t really want to go back out there without Dream, George sat down across from him, which the other grinned at, “Now we can be alone together.”

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“Like what?”

George laughed softly, “Like you’re trying to do something.”

“What?” Dream tilted his head to the side, “Seduce you?”

Brushing the other off with a shake of his head, George was grateful for the darkness of the closet as it hid the ever-blooming blush rising heavier on his face. 

No way was he going to make it out of here alive.

After a quick beat of silence, where the prior conversation was dropped and Dream was probably still stubborn on continuing it, George had no choice but to complain, “There’s nothing to do in here.”

“You wanna do something?”

George just lifted his shoulder in a shrug, avoiding Dream’s gaze and drifting off to the side, absentmindedly grabbing an abandoned can of beer, and placing it in between them, prompting, “We could play a game. Spin this.”

“Spin the bottle?” Dream asked in a wry chuckle, “I’m the only person it could land on, George.”

“No, not like that,” He rolled his eyes, but something was definitely stuck in his throat, “Whoever it lands on could drink or-or we do truth or dare.”

Dream moved in a little bit, “Are you sure, George? We can play whatever you want, for as long as you want.”

“Stop, that’s not what I’m saying,” George’s nerves were lifting, “I’ll spin it,” He twisted the can, both of them watching as it spun in circles, slowing to land with the tab side pointing to George’s shoe.

“Dammit,” He muttered.

“Truth or dare?” Dream asked, the other not getting a chance to make an answer as loud knocking on the door against George’s back interrupted them.

“Hey,” They called through the wood, “It’s been long enough in there, let other people have a turn. The limit is seven minutes.”

Dream and George looked at each other in dead silence, not replying even with additional knocking, the door handle jiggling, and the guy muttering obscenities at them before he eventually just gave up.

After exchanging some laughter, at how they had taken over the apparent seven minutes in heaven designated closet, Dream hummed, “Maybe we should put this to good use.”

“What do you mean?” George hedged, even though he already knew what the other was implying.

Dream tapped on the can, the aluminum clinking dully, “It landed on you, you know the rules. You kiss me, we’re in the closet, after all.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Dream had the gall to just fucking say, no shame at all, “That’s all I’m asking.”

George turned his face away, scoffing, “I’m not doing that.”

“Then one kiss,” Dream leaned just a tad closer, enough that it made George’s eyes shoot right back at him, on the nearing motion, his breathing growing more uneven as he spoke as unaffected as he could, “Why?”

“You wanted to play spin the bottle with me, you should have expected this.”

“No, we were supposed to do truth or dare-“

“And what about before?” Dream questioned, cutting off George’s excuse, “What would you have done if, in front of everyone, it landed on me?”

“I don’t know,” George gestured to nothing, “Spin again.”

“You can’t do that. It’s not allowed.” 

“Then I don’t know, Dream,” George dismissed the hypothetical, “It doesn’t matter because it didn’t happen.”

“But you wanted it to.”

“I didn’t,” George huffed, watching as Dream only pulled closer, as part of him didn’t want him to stop.

Or maybe all of him. 

“Oh, you are much more honest when you’re drunk, and you were drinking last time,” Dream murmured, “Would you have pulled me into this closet like this, kissed me like you are right now?”

“You’re stupid.”

“I’m stupid?”

“Yes.”

Dream just looked at him, something so prying in his hazy, dark gaze, “Truth or dare, George?”

George just let out a breath.

“Come on,” The other encouraged, “This is what you wanted.”

“I already know what you’re going to try and make me do.”

“I won’t make you do anything you won’t like.”

George felt his pulse in his throat due to Dream’s proximity, his reply sounding so feeble, “Oh, so now you decide what I like now?”

“Yes,” Dream confirmed without missing a beat, “Pick dare, George.”

“I’m not playing this with you,” George hardly breathed out, even as his eyes were glued to the other, even if he had no plans to put a stop to this.

“Really?” Dream murmured, with no real consideration, “Then why haven’t you pulled away?”

“Because I know you’re going to back out,” George shot back, as if he was irritated at being toyed with, how Dream wouldn’t follow through on his implicated promises, even though it really shouldn’t disappoint him the way it did, “You just do this shit to get a rise out of me. You’re all talk.”

“You think so?” Dream was closer now, close enough that their knees touched, that George could see him clearer in the dim lighting, see his lips curl into a grin, “Wanna bet?”

He wasn’t supposed to be entertaining this, but his heart beat was thudding too loudly, and George found himself asking, “Bet what?”

“Whoever pulls away first is the idiot.”

“The idiot?”

Dream nodded, and his face tilted, and he didn’t look like he would break in this game, and George couldn’t seem to get enough air to breathe properly, “The ultimate idiot, settled once and for all, the last game, all or nothing.”

“Seriously?” George laughed, but it was soft, it was uncertain.

And Dream only nodded, challenging, “Unless you want to give up now, just hand me the win and lose.”

“I won’t.”

“Then play.”

“Fine,” George almost cringed at his total lack of hesitation, but Dream followed suit with his own confirmation of, “Fine.”

It was very slow, even if they were already so close together in this confinement of a closet. Both of their eyes were narrowed, partially to see better but also to gauge the other’s expression and movement, watching and waiting for the other to stop, to put an end to whatever the hell excuse for a game this was.

Sure, it was constructed as a competition, as a way to prove superiority, but what of the end result, what if neither pulled away?

Which seemed to be the brimming conclusion, George staying still as Dream drifted in, his head leaning in just a bit more, tilting to the side, as if in invitation. George’s breath was held in his chest as they lingered here for a moment, with hardly any space between them, the only possible thing next was to connect, deplete that gap, even if one or both was supposed to back out, call this whole game of chicken off and admit defeat.

But they didn’t.

Neither of them even chanced a single exhale as Dream pressed in light, as they hardly brushed lips against lips, as it was over so soon after it started and they are back looking at each other, adrenaline a little more than high and heart beats rapid.

Whatever line they crossed or dam they broke snapped everything right there, quite possibly restraint was gone for good, as that was when they both rushed for each other. 

Hands tangled in hair, mouths sought after each other, messy, more desperate this time.

George was a bit more demanding, pushing and chasing until Dream was sent down, until his back was against the wall again, and George was practically on top of him, allowing no room, stealing his voice that he couldn’t keep quiet for one goddamn second.

“Holy shit,” Dream breathed, just barely, before he was unable to speak or think with George’s tongue pressing in, making Dream have to match, to open his mouth.

Every time he tried to talk, George would shut him up.

“You want-“

“Don’t talk,” George immediately interrupted, rendering Dream’s speech useless, because he knew what he was going to say, he knew what the other’s lifting grin fortold, and he knew he was totally, utterly fucked.

So, to delay and detract and avoid, he just kept kissing him, cutting off any words with licks and bites and presses until he could hardly regain enough air, until Dream’s breaths were growing into wheezes.

He had no choice but to separate them, George panting, looking at the mess he caused to Dream’s lips, the redness and puffiness, his hair now unruly after George grabbed at it, knowing he looked just as ruined, as he sent his face down against Dream’s chest, hands clenched into the fabric and face burning at what he had done.

Oh god, he was fucked.

He felt as Dream’s hands grasped around his waist, his voice wrecked as he spoke low, “Mind telling me what that was, George?”

“I- I wasn’t,” George struggled to admit anything and instead looked for an excuse, “Let’s just say I was drunk. Really, really drunk, okay?”

“No, what?” Dream denied such claims, “You drank as much as I did, which was practically nothing. You kissed me.”

“Fuck.”

“And looks like you enjoyed yourself while you were at it.”

“Dream,” George scathed back, but there was no true bite to it, and it didn’t matter anyway, the other could see his embarrassment the moment he pulled up George’s face, how he was flushed, how he couldn’t seem to look Dream in the eyes.

“I wasn’t supposed to do this.”

“Why?”

“Because,” George huffed, saying it like the other was stupid, “Then you’ll know.”

Dream’s smile was warm, knowing, as he brushed his lips over George’s neck, “What is it I know? Hm?”

The second the other made contact with his throat, George was shaky, his skin sensitive to every move Dream made, which caused him to choke, “You can’t do that, Dream.”

“Mm?” Dream pressed in a bit more, “Why not?”

George barely saved himself from uttering a humiliating noise when Dream scraped his teeth against him, panic starting to spring up, George trying to shift away, before it was too late, before Dream noticed.

“I don’t want to do it in a closet,” George sent a firm palm against Dream’s shoulder, disconnecting them, “Not here, not at a stupid high school party.”

“Do what?”

“Dream.”

But, as always, as George should have expected in a situation like this, probably especially in this situation, Dream was not keen on giving any mercy, only doubling down on what George implied, “Then where do you want to do it? My place? Your place? My car?”

“No- I just,” George was getting so flustered, his mouth not cooperating, his eyes defying him as they kept glancing at Dream’s lips, “I just want to leave, I-I can’t even think.”

Dream’s eyes drifted down, noticing, “You sure you can go out like that?”

George wanted to be more angry at the other for pointing it out, but Dream was already covering himself, not so subtly at that, so he was no better.

“Ugh,” George grumbled, his hand over his face, “You’re ruining my life, no, actually, you ruined my life, Dream.”

“Seems a little dramatic.”

“What are we even supposed to do after- after something like this? Now what?”

“You tell me, George,” Dream seemed to have no upset at their obvious predicament, “Now what?”

“I don’t know,” George expressed, his voice down into a whisper, swallowing down what this all meant and having to face the consequences of his actions and possibly causing a rift between them when they had finally gotten somewhere good. Or worse, actually following through on what he wanted.

Why did it have to be Dream? Why did it always have to be him? Wasn’t George smarter than this?

The other made this sentiment no better as Dream teased immediately, putting his palm on top of George’s, “What? You don’t want to hold hands in the hallway? Make out in the hallway? Sneak in some action in the bathroom stall?”

“Dream,” George snatched his hand away as if he was scalded by the touch. 

“Oh my god, you’re so ridiculous,” Dream lightly scolded, so clearly rife with amusement, “What do you want?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you do.”

George gritted his teeth, because he did, but that didn’t mean he was all that overjoyed by it, “But you make me so angry, I- I shouldn’t, it doesn’t make any sense.”

“No sense at all.”

“Like- we don’t even get along, we fight constantly. Nothing about this would work.”

“Strange how it is anyway, hm?”

Dream was pulling ever so closer, and George's conviction was waning, pathetically trying to muster up anything, “You’re annoying, being around you is- annoying.”

“Yeah,” Dream agreed, “But you like it.”

George chewed his lip, more defeated, a little more honest than he ever was because it was far too late to take back his actions, so he huffed, “I just.. I don’t want to lose to you.”

“What? This isn’t losing, George,” Dream scoffed at the offending notion, “If anything, you’re winning. Look how much you’re gaining here, look at me.”

And George did then, fully and without avoiding, catching Dream’s eye, his light smile, the air expelling from him as his gaze drifted down, as he watched the other follow through on what George intended to do himself. 

Dream kissed him, soft, drawing out all of George’s paltry attempts to refute this, what he actually wanted. But it was just too much humiliation for one man to bear, because this was losing if Dream seemed so pleased and smug and haughty about  this victory.

“Can we just not talk about this right now?” George whispered, pleading, still slightly connected with the other.

“Mm,” Dream hummed, not convinced, wanting to make George give him a full-blown confession, but the other looked like he was going to break, so he allowed this under the condition of, “But we will talk about it, right?”

“Yeah,” George said far too easily, and Dream should have seen right through it, that the other had no intention of such a thing, until he had to, until Dream was climbing through his window after avoiding him for a full week and George had no choice but to face him.

“I know you’ve been dodging my calls, George,” Dream reprimanded, causing the other to look down at his twisting hands in his lap, “Ignoring my texts, even after you promised. How can you be so mean to me, your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” George’s eyes and defense shot right up at that, “When did- you can’t just decide that we’re dating.”

“I didn’t decide,” Dream disregarded with a laugh, “I know that you’re deeply, head over heels in love with me-“

“I never said that.”

Dream pushed on diligently despite the interruption, “-And even if it’s hard for you to admit, which I understand, I found it in my heart to accept your feelings.”

“I don’t remember telling you about these so-called feelings,” George said, so pathetically.

“Well, you see, we were in this closet and you basically jumped on top of me the second you could and-“

“No- I was just,” George didn’t know how to justify it, because there was no justification, “I was being dumb.”

“Really?” Dream asked, without any hint of belief in that statement.

“Yeah.”

“But you’re not dumb, George. We both know this.”

He let out a breath, something tugging up at the corner of his lips that he wanted to keep down, but Dream always pulled this reaction out of him, “Then what am I?”

“Smart,” Dream commended, sliding next to George on the bed, making their thighs touch, which George briefly flicked down at before meeting Dream’s gaze as he continued, “A genius, really, for picking me.”

“Maybe I don’t want you so bad, did you think about that?”

“Then say it.”

George could feel the words on the tip of his tongue, that would staunch this out for good, to insist to Dream that nothing would ever happen between them. 

But then he would actually lose, not just against Dream in tests and grades that wouldn’t matter in the long run, in assignments and competitions he agreed to because it was the only thing that kept him sane, that didn’t make the endless school doldrum bore him; George would lose the only excitement he had in so long.

“Oh, I know your tricks,” George petulantly pursed his lips, “It’s all part of the game, seduce and distract me.”

“It would have been the perfect plan,” Dream conceded, “If only I didn’t fall for you for real.”

“Ha,” George laughed, as if he had gotten the other to admit some secret, as if Dream wasn’t here in his room, dying to kiss him, ready and willing to date him, “You confessed then. I win, I win everything. Say I win.”

“You win, George.”

“You’re so easy for me, Dream,” He was a little too gleeful, Dream worried vaguely about the power he was giving him, as George insisted for more, “Say I’m better than you, say I’m amazing.”

“George,” Dream warned, even if this wasn’t much of a surprise, even if he was already about to comply.

“No, actually, say you suck.”

Dream’s eyebrow rose in interest, “You could just ask, I mean, if you want me to suck you off-“

“Dream,” George huffed in disapproval, even as his cheeks colored red, “Be serious.”

“Oh, I am so serious.”

“Say it.”

“I will,” Dream hummed, but tilted his head to George expectantly, “If you say it.”

“What?”

“That you’ll date me,” Dream pressed, a grin settled in his lips, “That you like me.”

And George did everything he could to not admit that. Scoffing and laughing and evading. But Dream would not budge, even if George was already so close to him, even if he had more than enough time to say no.

“Fine,” He eventually grumbled out.

“Yeah?” Dream only pressed for more, whatever he could get, “What is it?”

“We’ll..” George gestured to get his point across to no avail, “You know.”

“I know what, George?”

The other let out a long breath, his eyes stuck on Dream, aware that the other was playing with him, “I’ll- I’ll do it. What you asked.”

“Whatever I ask?”

“No- just,” George tried to get his breathing even, “You know what I mean.”

Which, Dream did, and he got the other to say it, eventually, after many admittances of, “You’re better,” “You’re amazing, so much smarter than me,” and, “I suck, so, so bad.” 

George only grinned wider and wider in response, “Now say you like me.”

Dream was a little weary at this point, feeling as if he wasn’t actually going to get anywhere, “I like you.”

But at least George was pleased, even if it was a bit more evil than Dream would prefer, the other so clearly taking this power and running with it, “Okay, now kiss me.”

And that was enough for now, a confession of its own accord, especially by the flush that sprung up on George’s face, as if he realized he had said too much, gotten too greedy, and Dream had won. 

He would say it later, he would say even more later, but this satiated Dream, his lips on George’s, grinning amused all the while. He would have all the time in the world to pull it out of George, as they fought and quarreled and bickered, unable to stand each other and not able to stay away.

Always so exciting.

-

Chapter Text

January should have been cold, and bitter, with a sharp wind biting at sharper eyes, but Dream had hardly felt warmer.

It was that usual awkward beginning, of course, where George didn’t know whether to smile at him or not, whether to sit a bit closer, whether his gaze should really linger that long when Dream spoke, when he leaned in to whisper about something so inconsequential, but George blushed over the proximity anyway.

“Do you know what we’re doing?” Dream asked, voice low, “I feel like I missed something?”

“He assigned homework over the weekend, remember?”

Dream just shook his head.

“You didn’t do it last night?” George breathed incredulously, a grin tugging at his lips because he knew the cause of the other’s only ever-increasing disorganization.

“Yeah, I was busy doing something else,” Dream lifted a brow, “Got distracted.”

George scoffed, even as his hand came up to rest, and subtly cover, his reddening face, “Don’t say it like that. You weren’t doing anyone.”

“When did I say it was someone?”

He said it like he had caught George in some trap, fallen for his little devious tricks and exposed himself all the while. Aware Dream was just poking fun at him with that ridiculous and infuriating look on his face, George just huffed, “Well, it’s not my fault anyway. You’re the one that’s choking, you better not be going soft on me now.”

“Oh,” Dream affirmed with glee in his eyes, “I can assure you I’m not. I’m going hard. Real hard.”

“Stupid,” George muttered, his hands twisting together, his annoyance defied by the softness on his face.

Dream just hummed, resisting the urge to splay George’s clasped hands apart, to rest them in his own. He couldn’t do such a thing now, the other would pull away, so he would wait until after, when it was them, when he had George all to himself.

They still bickered often. The same nonsense, the same competitiveness.

People still rolled their eyes at them when both of their hands would shoot up at the same time, vying to answer the question first. The teachers still sighed when they both came up to argue over a grade, saying there must be a mistake because clearly, neither of them made one, so why were points taken off, hm?

Dream still grinned when George had no choice but to ask him for help.

“Well, well, well,” He teased, too much light in his eyes, too much adoration in his voice, “Here’s the self-proclaimed chemistry expert, asking for my help.”

“You know you don’t have to be annoying, right?”

Dream stuck out his tongue slightly in between his teeth, discouraging the other with, “Oh, I’m annoying, is it?”

“Yes,” George let out a long, weary breath, “You are.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night.”

George put a hand over his face, as a sign of distress and also to hide his betraying smile, as he knew that would only encourage Dream more, “You can’t just say that every time.”

“I can,” The other denied, a little smug, “I do.”

“You think it just automatically wins you the argument,” George said flatly, “It doesn’t.”

“I dunno, it definitely feels like it’s working.”

“It isn’t.”

“Aren’t you the one wanting my help?” Dream prodded, “Shouldn’t you be dropping to your knees right now to entice me to give up my precious time and knowledge?”

“Dream.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, because it didn’t matter what George said or defended, the redness on his face always made Dream the victor in his mind.

He did often employ these sort of tactics, diverting George’s attention on the subject with words and suggestions and innuendos. He dissuaded whatever the other tried to bring up against him with his own receipts, detailing what George had done with him as some kind of ultimate comeuppance. Kisses distracted and shut him up fairly well, and Dream was not one to ignore pulling that kind of trick when the opportunity presented itself.

Maybe, even if George wasn’t willing to admit it, it worked more often than it didn’t.

“Fine.”

Dream blinked for a moment, not exactly expecting that kind of response, “Um, what?”

“I’ll do it,” George said in a resigned sigh, like this was the only conclusion they could come to, conceding to Dream, “If that’s what it takes.”

George had never seen the other’s face as red as it was right now, and he had to resist the smile that was threatening to cross his face and take over.

“What- what do you mean?” Dream said, a bit dumbly.

“What you just asked,” George reminded in a low, taunting voice, “Don’t you want me to?”

All of Dream’s confidence deflated out of him, looking over George in nearly a panic to gauge if he was serious, because no way had they actually gone that far, and no way was the other about to do it over some stupid chemistry problem. With his mouth opening and no words or reply or good comeback ready, Dream merely retracted, “I was just- I was kidding. I wouldn’t, like, make you do that, or anything.”

“Mm,” George nodded, as if he was now understanding this, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Dream’s face burned as he looked down at his own homework, wishing he didn’t blush so easily and obviously, wishing he had some way to handle when George was like this, but he absolutely didn’t.

The other laughed lightly, grinning, “I knew you couldn’t handle it.”

“Shut up,” Dream muttered, quickly going to work to help George, annoyed that he had his own tricks thrown back at him, but satiated when George gave him a kiss as thanks.

January ended, and Dream was happy. Even if he thought about George way too much, even if the other still pushed all of his buttons, even if they fought and never went easy, lest they fail at the one thing they didn’t want to be defeated by- each other.

But seeing George all riled up, in any context, made Dream downright giddy.

Then, it was February.

They didn’t really talk about it, except for once, about a week before.

“Valentine’s Day,” Dream commented casually, acting like he wasn’t carefully watching George’s reaction, his eyes practically glued to how the other glanced over, breath held as he waited for a response.

“Yeah.”

George just shrugged it off, going back to type away at his computer, which wasn’t nearly enough, so Dream prodded again, “Do you.. celebrate?”

A pause then, George’s fingers poised above the keys as he turned towards the other a bit more, regarding Dream with light exasperation, “Celebrate? It’s not, like, a religious thing or something. Am I not allowed to?”

“No,” Dream held up his hands in faux surrender, “I was just wondering.”

George clicked his tongue, turning his face back to the screen, though this time, he couldn’t really focus on what he was doing.

After a beat of silence, Dream, who was clearly not going to drop the subject so easily, questioned, “Do you want to?”

It was rather obvious what Dream was doing, why he was asking. Really, it shouldn’t have been a big deal, but George was tense and flustered and stuttering anyway. He still had to push back on the idea.

“I don’t know,” He didn’t know why he replied with such defensiveness, “Why would I?”

Dream laughed softly, and George felt himself burn even brighter, just wishing the other would give him a break, but Dream teased, “You can tell me that you really want to, it’s okay.”

“I didn’t-“ George gritted his teeth, “You’re so dumb.”

“Me?”

“Yes,” George let out in a breath, his sentiment repeated that next week, when Dream was at his door, flowers in his hands, a touch of a haughty grin on his face as George uttered out, “You’re such an idiot.”

But Dream was in no way deterred, even more pleased when George took the gifts.

Flowers. George rolled his eyes at the notion, at how they were mostly all blue. Bright, nicely scented, and he had absolutely no idea what to do with them.

“You can be my valentine,” Dream said, as if this was put upon him, and he finally decided to take mercy on George’s unspoken request, “I guess. I guess I’ll let you.”

“You’re so stupid,” George couldn’t help but breathe, despite the smile on his face, despite him taking the chocolates he was offered.

“I am.”

He stopped then, staring at the candy, looking up at Dream with something so close to chastisement, “Galaxy? Seriously?”

Dream nodded happily, “Yes”

“You’re not supposed to know about that.”

“Oh,” Dream alighted, “I know everything.”

It was then that George began to worry his lip, not thinking that the other was going to do anything, at least genuinely, and he felt a little guilty, “I didn’t get you anything.”

“So?”

“So,” George enunciated, “I can’t take this.”

“You can,” Dream insisted, pulling a little closer.

George instinctively stepped back, which guided Dream further into his bedroom, the other continuing with his own gracious offer of, “There’s plenty you can still give me.”

“Like what?”

And Dream grinned, which George knew that meant he was so utterly doomed for. Though, he was aware of that from the very beginning, from that very first class they shared together, when he got into Dream’s car, when they sat in that stupid closet and couldn’t keep their eyes or hands or lips away from each other.

Of course he let it happen. He always did.

“You’ll kiss me.”

George lifted a brow, sitting atop his bed, gazing at Dream hovering above him, “I’ll kiss you?”

“Mm hm,” The other hummed, “Don’t you want to?”

“I mean,” George sighed in exaggeration, pulling up a shoulder in dismissal, “If I must.”

Dream just sat down right next to him, without any care to George’s air of nonchalance, waiting, expectant. They just looked at each other.

“Well?”

George gave him a look, encouraging the other to press forward, “Yeah? Well?”

“Kiss me.”

His exhale was a little sharp, which he knew gave away his uptick of nerves, Dream becoming a little too interested at the indication as George exhaled out, “Why do I have to do everything?”

“It’s my gift, isn’t it? Don’t you want to be a good valentine?”

“I am, I said we could kiss.”

“Yeah, but, Dream tilted his head to the side, “I want you to do it.”

George flitted around for a moment, mostly seeking a way to get out of this, or at least the initiation, blowing out in a breath when Dream’s smile only tugged higher, “Fine.”

It was always a struggle when George had to admit defeat, even if it wasn’t truly a defeat. But the way Dream seemed satisfied, like it was some game or wager or competition, he couldn’t help but feel like he had lost in a way.

“Fine,” Dream only beamed, which just plagued George more.

They had done this plenty of times in the past couple of months, sure. But Dream enjoyed this way too much, like he had something up his sleeve.

“Anytime, George,” Dream just had to comment.

George narrowed his gaze, “I can't when you’re staring at me all weird.”

Dream shut his eyes compliantly, urging when George was both silent and unmoving, “Something wrong?”

“No,” He scoffed, “You’re just-“

“An idiot?”

“Yes.”

“Stupid?

“Exactly.”

Dream’s smile started to spread, “So hot that it’s impossible for you not to kiss me?”

“Oh my god,” George’s hands were already cupping his face, already moving in, already quieting Dream with a mutter against his lips, “Shut up.”

He pressed in a little hard, as George often did when Dream riled him up, struggling with control much to his annoyance when the other immediately noticed, biting down on Dream’s lip, pulling out a slight groan, and mention of, “Mm, excited.”

George let out a breath, but still pushed more, slipped in a hint of tongue, still so clearly wanting.

This was the first time Dream ever got George to admit something, out loud and undeniably. It was quick, breathed in between the peppered kisses, the tug of waist and hip to get closer, the soft grin as Dream said it, as he did his first time in George’s bedroom.

“I like you,” He had said, as if he couldn’t quite contain it, as if it were bursting from George, breathed out of him, and hid such a confession and burning cheeks with a hold on Dream’s lips and tongue, not letting him get in a word. But they had to part eventually, and Dream was far too happy about it, even if George had fallen into the throes of embarrassment.

It wasn’t the last time he said it either, even if it was few and far between, Dream still treasured it, every single time.

By March, they were on their student council trip, sharing a room and spending most of the time in the sheets of their hotel bed.

That was the place where George called Dream his boyfriend for the very first time.

They had just startled after a noise sounded at the door, both of their eyes wide, breaths held in their chests, too afraid to move out of the flux of each other’s arms, nearly expecting someone to walk in on them. The disarray of their hair, the red mussed lips and general state of mess would have given them away immediately.

After a few seconds of nothing, they burst into quiet laughter.

“Oh my god,” George said, with relief and disbelief in his voice, “I swear the second we do anything, people are suddenly by our door, trying to break in and catch us.”

“Heh,” Dream chuckled, twirling a strand of George’s hair, “I doubt anyone would even guess this is what we’re doing. Paranoid much?”

“What if they do? What if they think you’re my boyfriend or something?”

Dream went a little more serious then, prodding at George to look at him, and when he did, he asked, slowly and scolding, “You do know that I am your boyfriend, right?”

“Yes,” George said flatly, “I just don’t want them to think that. Obviously.”

“So, you’re admitting it?”

“Admitting what?”

Dream flashed a smile, “That I’m your boyfriend.”

George groaned into the pillow, not knowing why Dream had to bring up such things, why he couldn’t just gloss right over it because nothing about it was new, “I thought this was already decided.”

“It was,” Dream affirmed, “But you never said it and now you have, so there’s no way out.”

“I take it back.”

“No you don’t.”

And he didn’t, much to his dismay, lamenting his lack of self-control as he pressed against Dream again, kissing him because that was all he wanted to do.

“When do we have to go?”

“An hour,” Dream replied in a hum, sending his lips over George’s neck in a way that always made him shiver, “Only an hour.”

“Make it count then,” George breathed out, a bit challenging, a bit soft, and Dream fell for it every time.

They only had two nights there, away from their homes, in a world that only had them, suitcases, clothes strewn on the floor. One bed that Dream immediately teased about upon opening the door.

“Uh oh, George,” He had said, walking into the room, like it was no good, like he had to tell him such devastating news, even if his grin was already wide, “It looks like we have to share.”

“This is how we planned it, idiot.”

George had rolled his eyes in dismissal, already throwing his stuff down and then himself onto the bed.

“But,” Dream hovered, acting like he was nervous, “Two guys? In a bed? What if we wake up cuddling or something? That would be inappropriate.”

“Alright,” George sighed in resignation, “Sleep on the floor.”

“What?” Dream laughed in short surprise, right behind the other now, his voice and hands much closer, “That’s so mean, George.”

“What did you want me to say? That’s the obvious solution.”

“No, well,” Dream scoffed, light, airy, “You were supposed to ask me to sleep with you.”

George hummed, “Hm, but I heard the floor was really comfortable.”

“No, no,” Dream scolded, his knee up on the bed, leaning over the other who smiled up at him, “Say you want me up here.”

George willfully shook his head.

“You do,” Dream poked at him, because he did know such a thing, as far as knowing that George was especially looking forward to it, excited when they were given this as their only option for sleeping arrangements, “So let me hear it.”

“Okay,” George replied, far too easily, “You can sleep on the floor, like a dog.”

“A dog?” Dream tried not to laugh, as that would only encourage the other, but he knew he was alight in amusement, “What is wrong with you?”

“Seems fitting.”

Dream let out a breath, “Even a dog can sleep in the bed. You are just a bad owner.”

“You’re so dumb,” George said, as if he wasn’t looking at Dream like that, like he couldn’t turn away if he tried.

“I’m going to bite you.”

“No,” George feebly struggled, laughter bubbling up bright as Dream tried for his neck, “Don’t.”

“Then say it.”

After a bit of wrestling, where Dream pinned George down to the point he couldn’t really move, even if he didn’t particularly want to move from this spot, he finally gave in, “Fine, you can sleep up here, I guess.”

“Really?” Dream gasped in dramatics, as if it was going to go any other way, “I can?”

“Yeah,” George shrugged in nonchalance, “But we’ll put a barrier of pillows in between, just to be safe.”

“Oh my god,” Dream chided, successfully biting down on George, who played up his hurt in exaggeration, even if he held Dream close, like he didn’t want him to stop. Which he absolutely didn’t, and the other so graciously kissed it better.

George knew then that he had rarely felt happier.

That trip was short-lived, the little bubble they were wrapped in, the confines of a hotel room, were over in only a couple of days. Then it was back to school and responsibilities and somewhat sneaking around as Dream tried to have George stay over as much as he could.

In April, it rained.

They were in Dream’s car during the first sprinkle, delaying getting out until they couldn’t, until the skies poured down onto the small cover of their vehicle.

“We can wait it out,” Dream suggested, looking over at George, who was shifting a bit uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, so of course he had to press, “Or you can drive in the rain. A little storm never hurt anyone.”

The other cast him a glance, “You’re kidding. I literally can’t see anything.”

Dream followed the gesture of George’s hand out beyond the windshield, but he brushed it off, “If you do this, it’ll make regular driving a breeze.”

“No,” George refused, “Switch seats with me.”

With an expelling laugh at the other trying to maneuver up and over with little success, Dream commented on the other’s insistence and inevitable failure with, “We have to get out to change seats. Can’t drive and so dumb, pick a struggle, George.”

But that made the other a little more upset than Dream was intending, as he just huffed, “Fine,” and opened his door, “I can just walk.”

“Wait,” Dream scrambled, watching with wide eyes as George stepped out into the rain, struggling with both the seatbelt and the door as he chased right after the other, calling out, “I was- shit, I was just kidding.”

George didn’t get very far, his hand grabbed by Dream when he had barely gotten a few steps ahead of the hood.

“Where are you going?” Dream practically beamed, because despite George’s scowl, despite anything, he couldn’t help but look in glee at the other being drenched like a wet little kitten.

After a beat of stubbornness, George admitted, “This was a bad idea.”

Dream laughed, musing out with a lighted smile, “Really, why is that?”

“I’m getting wet, Dream,” George frowned, glancing down at his soaked shirt, “Who would have thought rain would be wet.”

“I would have never guessed, personally.”

“Yeah,” George puffed out, “Because you’re stupid and dumb and can barely drive.”

“George,” Dream pulled out, guiding the other a little closer, “I was joking.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

Dream knew such a statement shouldn’t make his heart swell in his chest. He knew that he should be cold and miserable in this April storm, he knew no one should be this happy.

But he was, when he kissed George in the rain, while the other scoffed about how cheesy it was, pestering Dream about his romantic whims. Because it didn’t matter what the other said, Dream knew he felt the same way as him. When they booked it back into the car as soon as their skin started shivering, when they got back into Dream’s house, getting water all over the floor, changing and piling blankets on top of each other, warmth filling them wherever they touched.

Dream knew from the way George moved a little bit closer. He knew that he made him happy, too.

May was a month of exams and finals and prep for whatever standardized test they could get their hands on. AP essays and SATs and studying until they hardly had time for anything else.

It was kisses short and sweet, dates squeezed in between the tight schedule, it was a fight to be better that never quite was the same as before.

Because Dream was excited when George did well. Even if he did it with cockiness, showing off some mental prowess. It was difficult not to want good things to happen for the other, even if it was at his own expense.

“I’m better.”

“No,” Dream warned, even if he was pleased at how much the other was brimming with joy, “I had the higher ACT score.”

“Pfft,” George blew him off, “That’s arguably the test that matters the least.”

“Yeah, arguably.”

George sighed dramatically, “Can’t you just be happy for me? Can’t you just accept your loss and grovel at my feet?”

“I am,” Dream laughed, “I will.”

When he was just about to get all overly confident, Dream added, “As long as you say I’m better than you at chemistry.”

“I can’t,” George huffed, “Because it’s not true. I couldn’t lie to you, Dream.”

“The tests don’t lie, but you definitely do.”

“I don’t,” George attested uselessly, “Name one time.”

Dream rolled his eyes, “Oh, just every single day, when you say you don’t like me.”

“But I actually don’t like you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Dream leaned in closer, “But, George.”

“Yeah?”

“I like you,” He practically pouted, “Why don’t you like me back?”

George just scoffed, but most of his conviction was lost, “I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work.”

“I’m not trying anything.”

“You always are,” George grumbled a bit, his hands basically clutching onto Dream, “If I say it, you win. If I don't say it, you still win. You’re setting me up.”

“Yeah,” Dream smiled all warm, pressing against George’s lips with his own, “I am.”

And George was far too weak and susceptible to whatever charms Dream used that got him in the first place, so he ended up saying it anyway. That was usually how it went, that was usually how they wanted it.

In June, they used Dream’s pool almost every day.

“Aren’t you glad I suggested this?” George prodded, gliding through the cool water on the otherwise blistering summer day.

“Mm,” Dream hummed, drifting atop the surface on a stupid doughnut float, “It’s alright.”

“That’s because you’re up there,” George pointed out the other’s lack of actually being in the water, “You’re supposed to be swimming with me.”

“So demanding,” Dream cooed.

George narrowed his eyes and sank beneath the surface, kicking up off the bottom straight towards Dream, who was knocked into the water with a splash and a yelp.

“George,” The other huffed, his hair down slick over his forehead, his sunglasses now off his face and drifting to the pool floor.

“Shark attack,” He simply replied, “Wasn’t my fault.”

George, who tried to escape, then screamed, mostly with laughter, when Dream dunked him under the water.

“We’re even,” George wrapped his arms around Dream’s shoulders so he couldn’t push him beneath again, “We’re even.”

“You deserved that.”

And George just grinned at him, something a little evil, something a little tempting, underlying his expression. Dream was no fool, he knew the other’s tricks. But it always worked on him anyway, kissing George in the pool until they both had to come up for air.

On a hazy July night, the water was letting off steam, mingling in the stars as Dream and George laughed quietly.

“Weren’t you supposed to be home, like, hours ago?” Dream lightly pressed, whispering low even if George was tightly in his arms.

“Yeah,” The other giggled, “But no one has to know.”

“They don’t, do they?”

“Mm-hm.”

“About what?”

George dropped his voice down, more quiet, more tantalizing, “About us.”

Even though, at this point, George had finally gotten around to telling his mom after Dream’s own had known pretty much the day of them getting together, they still felt more like a secret.

Because, they decided, if anyone couldn’t guess from just looking at them, it was a lost cause anyway.

“What can’t they know?” Dream grinned, brushing over the other’s neck, “What are we doing?”

George’s back was pressed against the edge of the pool, cool tiles a stark contrast to the warmth sent onto his front by Dream. His legs wrapped around the other’s waist, making them connect in hips and chest and lips.

“I don’t know,” George’s pulse was high, “What are we doing, Dream?”

And Dream’s grin and eyes both flashed dark, as they moved under the rippling water, close, vying to get even closer. The farthest they had ever gone was here, beneath the heated pool and night sky, faces flushed as they connected, over and over.

“I want this,” George had breathed in the light exhale, seconds before this began, moments before Dream lifted him up, “I want you.”

“You’re making me..” Dream cut off, because he was so much at once, overwhelmed when George’s heels dug into his back, dazed when he kissed harder, apologetic when he got too excited and nipped at George’s throat and sent him back onto the slightly rough edge of the pool.

But George only smiled, encouraged, beckoned, “What, Dream?”

He couldn’t think of an answer, his mind too fuzzy, his gaze too locked on George and the redness of his mouth, the way the material of his swim trunks brushed against his abdomen.

“So..” Dream finally spoke, but he didn’t really get anywhere, lost again when his mouth found George’s another endless time.

“Yeah?”

Dream took the prompt, the nudge of George’s nose, the indication in his half-lidded eyes that needed a proper response.

“Dizzy,” He exhaled, dizzy, he was, when they didn’t stop.

July ended on a simmering evening, after days of soaking up sun, after nights of swimming in the silent, empty world beside them in the pool, tangled together. Summer was over, and they had never been more in love.

Dream wanted to say it, but he feared, always, that it was too soon.

George hardly managed to express words of affection in normal circumstances, let alone in August, when they hadn’t even been dating for a year. It stuck in his throat, threatening to escape his lips, not knowing how the other would react.

Until Dream said it.

He enjoyed August, as even if it meant school was beginning again, even if the heat would linger, refusing to break for fall, Dream couldn’t wait until his birthday.

17.

The first one he would ever spend with George. It wasn’t anything special in any other way. A simple gathering of his family and maybe a few close friends, a cake they had bought from the grocery store, George clumsily spelling out a happy birthday message for Dream on top of the vanilla icing. Presents, a couple of party hats, candles. Practically the same as every year.

But with George, it meant there was love.

“Do you like what I got you?”

“Mm,” Dream murmured, so clearly pleased as he typed on said gift, after the excitement of the day, after everyone else had gone home except for George, “Yeah.”

“Tell me how much you like it,” The other insisted, teasing, but Dream took it seriously, because he felt like he was bursting at the seams with unbridled joy. He felt like he truly couldn’t contain it.

“I really like it,” Dream swiveled his chair towards George, “It’s amazing, the keyboard, it’s just- you’re amazing.”

“I know,” George hummed as Dream wrapped his arms around him, “I am.”

“Definitely the best gift I’ve ever received.”

“Of course.”

“I love it.”

George beamed then, and Dream knew it was too late right then and there, he was completely struck, completely overcome by how much he had fallen for George.

“I love you.”

It was pressed out of him, from just the lifting corners of George’s mouth, from the way he squeezed him tighter, from the softness shining in the other’s gaze, directed at him. Solely at him.

What else was Dream supposed to do?

George was kind, though, and he kissed him, scolding, just a little bit, “I know, even if it’s way too soon.”

Dream balked, his face flushed, his heart beat so fast in his chest.

“You do know it’s too soon, right?”

He nodded sheepishly at George’s raised brow, at how he was rushing so quickly, even if they had time to breathe, “Yeah.”

“It’s okay,” He brushed against Dream’s cheek, “Just give me a second, yes?”

“Yes,” Dream replied, because he would give George all the seconds and hours and years he requested. Because they had hardly begun this, they had hardly started to be their first love. He could wait forever for George to say it.

Even if he already did, even if he let it slip, spoke the words that left Dream sunny for days, George whispering, “I feel the same way.”

This was after Halloween, when they watched the scariest movie George could find, laughing when Dream covered his eyes, grinning when the other’s forehead pressed against his shoulder. After they had dressed up with sheets over their heads and gone trick-or-treating for the first time since they were kids.

It was when they stayed up until midnight, waiting for the next day.

“Happy birthday,” Dream said, so satisfied, placing a kiss on George's lips, “I was the first one to say it.”

“Well,” The other was far too smug, taunting, “Someone did say it to me earlier, but I guess technically you were the first.”

“What?” Dream denied, “Literally how? It’s midnight exactly.”

“Because of timezones,” George happily corrected, “The UK is hours ahead. I have a friend from there who texted me first.”

Dream just shook his head, “No, that doesn’t count. You’re here, in this timezone, so it only counts here.”

“That’s not how it works.”

With a light scoff, and knowing the other was really only poking fun at him, Dream huffed, “It should. And I doubt that you even have a friend.”

“I do.”

“But I’m your actual friend.”

George laughed, “What does that even mean?”

“Because,” Dream stated, gesturing between them, “I’m a boy, who’s a friend.

Aware of what the other was trying to get him to say, George cheekily asked, “Oh, so we’re just friends?”

“No,” Dream pouted. “Boy. Friend. Boyfriend.”

“Hm, really?”

“George,” The other whined, poking at him with both his fingers and his words, “Can’t you just say it, just once?”

And after a back and forth, of George denying and Dream giving him all the reasons, staying up late for him, watching the scary movie for him, just being the best partner anyone could ask for, which George found to be a bit of a stretch, he gave in. He said it.

“I do,” George whispered, nearly too quietly to hear, “I feel the same way.”

Dream was all over him after that downright confession if he ever heard one, wanting to say it again, wanting to press it against George’s lips and skin, I love you, I love you, I love you.

But this was enough for now. Intimacy, closeness, a start of the cooling November month.

It was the closing of the first semester of their senior year. Much of their work had already been done, the preparation of the last few years led them here. The only thing that loomed was college applications.

“I’m applying for a few,” George commented at the beginning of October, “Just want to keep my options open, you know.”

“Yeah,” Dream responded uncertainly, “Me, too.”

They both looked at each other for a moment, both prodding the exact same questions, both wondering the exact same things.

Where?

When?

Can I follow you there?

George finally broke the silence, clearing his throat and keeping his voice even, casually questioning like he didn’t have any care in the world, “So, where do you want to go?”

“Um,” Dream hedged, because he was going to ask the other that, he was going to change his answer to fit George’s, “I dunno. What about you?”

“Depends. I guess.”

“Like in state or..”

George’s face split into a smile then, “Maybe. Whatever has the best scholarship and program and people.”

“People?”’Dream questioned.

“Yeah.”

“Then,” Dream fidgeted with his hands for a moment, “You have one school in mind?”

“Eh,” George lifted a shoulder, “I have a few.”

He was really trying to catch anything here, any hint of a name, whether it was a state college or an ivy league, just so he could express his own interest in wanting to go there, that Dream always wanted to attend that very same school, but George was giving him nothing.

“Well, you should tell me about them, that could help, like, since I haven’t decided and- and-“

“Dream,” The other gently cut off.

“What?”

George gave him a knowing look, “Go ahead and just say it.”

“I don’t..” Dream trailed off, aware it was useless to play dumb, so after a breath, he carefully suggested, “Maybe we could see if, like, within reason, we could go to the same school?”

“You’re gonna follow me all the way to college, aren’t you?” George grinned so wide.

“No,” Dream defended with no real argument, “You might be the one following me.”

But the counter was unnecessary, George’s head was already tilted to the side, his eyes were already on Dream, he was already saying, “I mean, we might as well.”

He was happy and smiling, then scoffed when the other continued with, “If you can even get into it, of course.”

And Dream took no time in assuring that he would, that he could possibly even take George’s own spot, that they were just as much competing with each other as everyone else that was applying.

In the end, they applied to the same schools. By early next year, they would know who had gotten in and where they were going, likely somewhere together.

At least, that was what they planned. That was what they had figured would be their future until November rolled around.

It was two weeks after George’s 18th birthday when Dream told him, two days after he found out himself.

“I’m leaving,” He stated, plain, nearly defeated, “I’m not coming back.”

George’s smile had long faded since Dream had shown up at his door, his brows had grown creased, his fists were now clenched, “Why are you.. why are you saying it like that?”

“I know,” Dream looked down then, biting down on his lip, trying not to just cry, “I know. We had all these plans, but I just- it’s not going to work out.”

“We could, though,” George said weakly, “We could call, we could talk. We could wait.”

But Dream was already shaking his head.

“It’s my sister and she-“ Dream quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, taking a steadying breath, “I don’t know what this means for my future, let alone yours. I don’t know if I can even make it to college, and I would hate myself if I left you waiting for me there.”

“Dream.”

George dropped his outreaching hand when Dream recoiled, and he knew, then, with a lump in his throat, that it was already too late.

“Just let me leave.”

Dream was gone before the semester even ended.

George really couldn’t do anything else. The other had made up his mind. He was already away the moment he knocked on George’s door that night. Dream was moving, thousands of miles away, and he couldn’t look back, he couldn’t afford to look back. It was out of his hands, Dream had said, there was nothing else to be done except to move on.

“It’s just high school, George,” Dream trembled out, tears in both of their eyes, “Do you really think we were going to make it that far, anyway?”

“I guess not,” George replied, flat and cold, the last words he ever said to Dream, as he let him leave.

He was always going to leave.

And, just like that, everything was over, every first they had, the relationship they shared, the academic rivalry they built up. George ranked highest in his class, he gave the valedictorian speech at graduation.

He cried over the empty space Dream was supposed to be. He grew angry at how the other cut everything off, how he refused to budge.

George went to the school they planned on going together, but Dream wasn’t there. In so many ways, George won what he always wanted. The best scores and honors, a perfect slot in a great program. But, as it was often when it came to Dream, George still felt like he was the one to lose.

But it was just high school, it was just a first love, and George had an entire life to live. One without Dream, as the other seemed to make sure of that.

Fleeting. That was what George should have expected.

That was what he got.

-
End
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