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“Dream,” George said, bursting through his friend’s door in the most abrupt manner possible.
Dream, the culprit of the matter, looked up from his phone. He’d been scrolling through Twitter for the past hour, liking various fanart from Squidcraft days prior, but George was more important– George was always more important. His eyes met George’s with a tilt of his head, “Hmm?”
The brunet showed no signs of hesitation, instead fiddling his hands together as he paced the small space in front of Dream’s bed. If he wasn’t pacing, Dream would have thought he were comfortable; he was wearing sweats, the fuzzy socks Dream had put in his stocking on Christmas, and an oversized sweatshirt. Dream squinted… that was his sweatshirt. George had stolen yet another one of his hoodies, but Dream wasn’t angry in the least. Sharing clothes was domestic, nice. Something they could do only now that they were together. After so many years apart, a missing hoodie was the least of Dream’s concerns.
Upon no answer from the brunet, Dream asked, “What’s wrong?”
George’s eyes shot toward him. “Nothing’s wrong, I just… need help.”
“With?”
George bit his lip before answering. “You’re going to make fun of me.”
Dream grinned, “I never make fun of you.” It was only partially true.
A sigh, and then George was sitting down on Dream’s bed, practically on top of the blond’s feet. Though, he seemed to pay no mind. “I, uh,” he sucked in a breath of air, “I redownloaded Tinder.”
“You what?” Dream felt like he was hallucinating because surely, George hadn’t downloaded a dating app. Surely not. Not when he was this famous. It was so dangerous. So, so dangerous in a multitude of ways. There was no way Dream could let George getting doxxed ever pave the trending tabs of Twitter.
Besides, he didn’t even know George wanted a romance. Or, whatever the fuck it was he wanted. Dream thought he was chill, still settling down in his new home. Dream thought that maybe… No. He was being stupidly romantic. George could be with whoever he wanted, just not on Tinder of all places.
George smiled sheepishly. “I got Tinder again, and I met this guy, and we’ve called and now he wants to meet up. I trust him, I think. I just… haven’t gone on a date in so long, and I was wondering…”
Dream had tuned out the rest of the words George was saying because fuck, this was a lot to take in. Like, realistically, he knew George liked guys, out of inference. But he’d never blatantly said it. This was confirmation, this was giving Dream hope.
And what the hell did George mean by ‘trusting him?’ How could he trust someone he met online? Or, well, okay. Dream and George were different. They were both famous, unlike now. Now, George was planning to meet up with some random guy. A guy with a high probability of knowing who George was, of seeing his face somewhere. He could be a serial killer, or a stalker. He could be crazy. And, yet, George trusts him.
Holy shit, they were going on a date. George was going on a date. Dream was happy for him, of course, but fuck. What if George really liked this guy? What if George ended up dating him and started hanging out with him all the time? How was Dream supposed to survive with less George-time? How would he ever be okay with someone else becoming the #1 in George’s life?
Frankly, Dream just couldn’t handle it.
He was a jealous person. He knew he was a jealous person. But with George, it was tenfold. With George, Dream felt like reigning hell on anyone who so much as brushed his arm the wrong way. It wasn't like he wanted to date George or anything– except, like, he did, but that wasn’t why he was upset about this Tinder date– he wanted to protect him. Which is why he couldn’t let George go on this date, not while he was in his right mind.
Not when he hadn’t–
“Dream?” George asked, pulling the blond from his imminent rage. He felt dizzy jumping back to reality, fired up at the prospect of this date. “Did you hear me?”
“About the date? Yeah, yeah I heard you.” He could hardly summon any more words, not when there was this burning rage in his gut. Not when his head was screaming at him to hold onto George and never let go again.
The brunet, however, seemed to find his condition funny. He scoffed, “Well, yeah. But did you hear what I said after ?”
If Dream was looking closer, he would have seen a rosen shade forming on his friend’s cheeks. He would have seen the nervous twist in his lips, the tapping of his thumb against the comforter. But, too much jealousy was sweeping through his body to do so. He could hardly even see.
“No,” he answered. “I’m not sure if I want to, actually. George, this is nuts! I can’t believe you want to meet up with someone who might want to kill you, or take advantage of you, or something. I don't want you to die.”
George laughed, sunny and stupid. “I asked you to help me prepare for it. Like, I don’t want to act stupid.”
“You never act stupid,” Dream said almost too quickly. He quickly added, “Idiotic, maybe, but not stupid,” just to save his guts. He’d sounded much too tender, though. George was sure to catch his bluff.
“I haven’t been on a date in years, Dream. I haven’t done anything in so long.”
Dream furrowed a brow in confusion, his breathing stopped. Paralyzed, he was paralyzed. Because, if George was asking him to do this, then he’d never be able to recover. He’d never be able to sulk in silence ever again. He’d never be able to let George go. He’d never be able to hold in his stupid feelings for his best friend.
There was no way in hell he could do this.
So, he said, “No way, George. I’m not doing it.”
George’s sly smile grew wider. “You don’t even know what I’m asking yet.”
“I know, idiot. I know.”
“It’ll be fun,” George said, like it was easy. “I get to practice before I have to do it on my date, and you get to kiss someone for the first time, like, ever.” He scoffed again, “You haven’t been with anyone in years, Dream. Don’t you want some action? I mean, when was the last time you even kissed someone?”
Before the quarantine. Before I realized I liked you so much. “Regardless, this is crazy. I’m not kissing you right now.” Because I want to kiss you on our first date. I want to kiss you every night. I want to kiss you when we both want it.
“Fine,” George got up from the sofa. “I’ll go ask Sapnap.”
George. Wanted to kiss Sapnap. Rather than Dream.
“Wait!” Dream called out before he knew what he was doing. “Don’t ask Sapnap.”
George feigned innocence. “Why not? I thought you didn’t want to help me practice for this date. Sapnap will probably kiss me without even a sliver of an argument.”
Dream didn’t even know what to say. His heart was racing, his mind was running. His hand was shaking. But he couldn’t just let George go. How could he ever stand George kissing anyone that wasn’t himself, let alone his other best friend?
“I, uh,” he started, cautious, “I don’t want to help you. Not really. But, well, I don’t want Sapnap to help you even more.”
Suddenly, George was walking back to the bed, all too confident in his steps. “Jealous?”
“I…” Dream lost all form of response when George was standing over him, grinning like a madman. He made no move to stand up and meet the other’s eye, stuck in place at the situation. At the realization that this was real. That he was about to kiss his best fucking friend.
George’s hand found his cheek, and then he was brushing a thumb across his scruff. “You haven’t shaved in a while,” he observed.
Dream somehow found the words to ask, “Is that a problem?”
A shake of the head, ‘no,’ and then George was relinquishing his hold on Dream’s face, instead falling onto the bed, legs crossed like a kindergartener waiting for snack time. “Well,” he muttered, “this is fun.”
Dream almost lost his mind at that. George was the one who wanted to do all of this in the first place. And, no matter how much it would affect Dream in the long run, he wasn’t going to be the one to make the first move. Not when it was fake.
“You’re the one that wanted practice,” he said calmly, hoping George couldn’t hear the way his heart was violently beating out of his chest.
George huffed and moved closer, effectively scooting in such a way that his legs were now overlapping Dream’s. George was in his lap, basically. And his face was scarily close, too. If Dream tilted his head just a little bit higher, he would be able to smell the shampoo of George’s hair– no doubt the watermelon Dream had been using in his own shower, stolen by the menace that was his best friend. Best friend, who he was now about to kiss. How the tables have turned.
“This better?” George asked softly, though, Dream could hear something like nerves in his tone, too. There was no way he could be nervous, not when this was his idea in the first place. Dream only nodded.
A hand was then moving up Dream’s arm length, fingers tracing a line along his neck before ultimately settling once more on his cheek. George’s head fell down for a moment after the fact, and he muttered something into his own chest. Something that Dream couldn’t hear.
“What was that?” Dream asked, tilting George’s chin back up with the softest glide of the hand he could muster. He had no idea what had come over him to do such a thing, but all he knew was that he wanted to see George’s face again, to hear what he had said so secretly.
The brunet’s eyes squinted shut for a millisecond, but when he opened them again, his lips were pursed. “I forgot how to kiss someone,” he said, almost as quietly as the first time.
“You… forgot?” Dream tried to affirm, voice too gentle.
“I– like, I didn’t forget, I don’t think. It’s just been a while, so I’m scared I’m going to do it wrong.”
“You’re not going to kiss me wrong, George.”
George’s eyes turned skeptical. “How would you know? You probably forgot how to kiss, too, you social outcast, you.”
Because any way you kiss me is going to knock me off my feet. Because no matter how terrible your dumb kisses are, I’m still going to love you more than I can bear. Instead, “I just know, idiot. Now, are you going to kiss me, or are you just going to keep stalling?”
In the blink of an eye, George was back to his confident demeanor, completely unaffected by the fact they were about to kiss. A complete juxtaposition to Dream. “Is that a challenge?”
Dream only shook his head, taking in a deep breath because this was it. It was happening. After so many years of fantasizing about how he would eventually woo George and take him on a date and pull him in for a kiss, it was occuring. All for practice, just so George could go on a date with another man. Maybe the purpose of their kiss was far from Dream’s vision, but it was a kiss nonetheless.
Dream was going to kiss George. George was going to kiss him!
His thoughts were cut off by said friend moving closer. The hand previously at his chin was now brushing over his lips, and George’s other hand was now snaking up to hold him on the other side of his face. Warm, it was warm. Dream thought he could get used to it.
He somehow found the strength to bring his other hand to the back of George’s neck, fingers knotting in thick pretty locks of hair.
George grinned one last time, and then his lips were itching closer closer closer. His eyes were meeting Dream’s, a final question as to whether this was okay, a last chance to back out. Though, when had Dream ever backed away from George?
His eyes closed, lashes fluttering against Dream’s own cheek, and then Dream was shutting his as well, welcoming the moment of quiet before the storm.
But then– oh – George’s lips were touching his lips in something like a kiss. They were kissing, fucking kissing, and it wasn’t even a kiss, so to speak– it was more of the kind of kiss middle schoolers shared during a shitty round of seven minutes in heaven– but fuck , if it wasn’t the best thing Dream had ever experienced.
Like, he was floating, surely. He had to be floating because there was no way this was real. No way that kissing George felt like an immaculate eruption in his chest, like a stream of ardor was flooding every aspect of his being.
When George pulled away, Dream was too shocked to open his eyes. Too shocked to do anything ever again. He would die like this, surely. Seeing nothing but blackness as George held his face so softly, so tender. It would be a good way to die, he thought.
“This okay?” George asked, and Dream’s mind went fuzzy at the whisper. The simple whisper meant just for him. George was holding his face and speaking soft and–
“Fine,” he answered, too eager for his own good. “Just kiss me again, idiot.”
He heard George scoff, “I didn’t hear a ‘please.’” But before he could retort, George’s lips were back on his own. Sweet lips, silk lips. And it was impossibly better than before. George was pushing a little harder against him now, his grip tightening, mushing their stupid faces together. It was more, but it felt cozy. Like being wrapped in a warm blanket, Dream was wrapped up in everything George.
A sigh left his lips involuntarily, from the niceness of it, from the thought that this could be his everyday life. If this was what it would feel like, he would have to fight for George. Maybe he could be a serial killer and get rid of this Tinder guy. He could confess his feelings before the date, and then he and George would live happily ever after, forever.
George’s hand moved to the back of his head, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck, right under his beanie. Then, the same hand was grabbing the edge of the hat, his lips disconnecting. “ This,” George emphasized, out of breath, “would be so much easier without the beanie.”
“Take it off if it’s bothering you so much,” he retorted with the last drop of his air; George had stolen it all.
It was thrown somewhere Dream couldn’t see, and then George’s hands were in his hair, threading his fingers through, and– god– their lips were together again, and it felt so good that Dream was seeing stars.
Stars had paved his vision, planets dotting the view. His heart was bursting like a comet and his body felt like it was in zero-gravity. George was kissing him, and his lips were tingling, and holy fuck George was kissing him. Still, he couldn’t believe it was real. There was just… no way.
It was a dream, a fantasy. Here, he could say anything, be anyone. Here, he could finally win George over.
So, when George pulled away again– biting Dream’s goddamn lip, of all ways– Dream was empowered to do something. Something, meaning being absolutely reckless and fighting for George’s love with all he had in him.
He opened his eyes, ready to say what was on his mind, what years and years of pining had allowed him to come up with, but was stopped by the look on George’s face. His cheeks were like tulips, his lips were flushed, and his eyes looked content. He was so beautiful that Dream had to fight all that was good in him in order to push forth. In order to not lean in again.
Before George could say anything, presumably a sarcastic comment about ‘good practice,’ Dream was grabbing his hand, locking their fingers together in an unnecessarily tight grip. “Don’t go,” he breathed out, trying to gain composure and self-pride along with it. “Don’t go on a date with him.”
George’s eyes went wide, and Dream could already feel his stomach turning in rejection. He didn’t want to watch George go, to watch George live a happy life, to watch George move on without him. He couldn’t bear it. He didn’t want–
“There was no date,” George rushed out, voice almost slurred at the quickness.
Dream’s world stopped on its axis. “There’s… what?”
George smiled up at him, a mixture of teasing and nerves. “There was never any Tinder date. I lied to see if you…” He trailed off, eyes looking down at Dream’s lips like something from a romance movie. And, surely, this was a movie. This was some kind of reality tv show– Dream was being pranked. “I guess it worked, so, uh, I mean, you can be my Tinder date. If you want.”
“I can be your…?” Dream was baffled. Dream was livid. Dream felt like maybe, the whole world wasn’t as against him as he originally thought. “You were lying.”
“I…” George smiled wide. “I mean, yeah. But it was for a good cause. Research purposes, you know? And now, all the lab data is showing that you should be my Tinder date.”
Dream was quiet. He was waiting for someone to yell ‘Cut!’ or run in with a bucket of slime to dump on him. Something would ruin the moment, and he’d wake up alone in his own bed. Because there was no way, no way George was asking him out.
“I should be your Tinder date?” he asked cautiously.
George nodded, so painfully simple for him. “If you say yes, you can kiss me again. And then we can go out tomorrow, and you can pay for my dinner.”
Dream had to scoff, “I always pay for your dinner.”
“Just…” George lifted his hand to Dream’s cheek again.“Say…” His eyes were blazing with a challenge. “Yes…”
“You’re seducing me right now,” Dream complained, as if he had anything to complain about. “You’re using my weakness against me. This is unfair. This is–”
He was silenced by another kiss. A George kiss.
And if they kept kissing ‘til the sun came down, that was a secret to keep to themselves. And when they went on a sushi date, Dream paying for it all, that was no one’s business but their own. Though, Sapnap did find out eventually, and even though he claimed they were ‘gross’ and needed to ‘get a room,’ Dream could never have been happier.
He was living his fantasy. What else could he possibly ask for?