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Dream is constantly wondering how he gets in these situations, and with his co-worker if nothing else. The same coworker who is the only one who can challenge Dream on the mission-success-board. The same coworker he's been trying to go out with for months, the same coworker Sapnap's trying to warn him off due to how nefarious he is for throwing his partners under the bus.
And he's getting a front row seat to George’s newest show.
Tears roll down pink cheeks, sparkling in the flickering off the light bulb above them. His pupils aren't visible in the dim lighting, making his dark eyes look large and innocent– only supported by the tears that makes his eyes shine in such an ethereal way Dream himself is faltering– and his lips are wet from how often he's been licking them free from salty tears, looking so kissable Dream has to visibly stop himself from waddling over in the chair he's strapped to to bruise them up perfectly, to add to the masterpiece that is George.
Their kidnapper seems to be thinking along the same lines. Xe cups the brunette’s cheek softly, eyes shadowed and narrowed, making xem look all the more intimidating, but there's also a hint of warmth to them too, a warmth that's only, it seems, reserved for George. (Despite the fact the two only met properly a few minutes ago).
“How many times?" Xyr voice is dark, a hint of danger to it, and Dream shudders. (Kidnapping comes with the job of a secret agent, he knows that, but no matter how many times it's done he will never get used to it.) “How many times did he hurt you?”
If he wasn't beginning to hate himself a bit by the show George is putting on, even if he knows it's all lies, he would have been insulted at how venomous the “he” sounded in that sentence.
George blubbers, choking on a sob and squeezing his eyes shut– only wetting his eyelashes further with tears. “I don't-”
“How many times sweetheart?” The kidnapper coos, and xyr thumb brushes softly against the flush of George's cheek, successfully wiping away a few tears. “Tell me."
George inhales shakily, Dream still slightly too shocked at the whole situation to say much, and hesitates before opening his mouth. “Twelve… Since the beginning of the week." He pauses, eyes squeezing shut as if waiting for a slap, for the repercussions that come with telling the truth.
“It's Wednesday.” Xe spit, rounding on Dream and making the blonde straighten his spine at the toxicity in xyr eyes.
“I swear I don't know-” the blonde is cut off by his chair being tilted back by the person’s rough hand, faces barely Inches apart.
“You hurt him twelve times this week?" Their kidnapper asks, breath so horrendous Dream has to remind himself not to breathe.
“No-”
“You," xe chuckle, "are in a lot of fucking trouble.”
Dream gulps, “good to know."
Xe goes to lean closer, tilting Dream back further, but a buzzing in xyr pocket interrupts xem. Xe growls lowly, but pulls away, making Dream's uncomfortable chair rock at the impact of landing so suddenly.
He cringes at the feeling on his ass, suddenly very aware of the fact that George’s chair has padding, and they were put there before he even started his little pity party. What the fuck? Did they just give him a better chair because he looks nicer? (Dream doesn't blame them, but it’s still painful on his butt, and not even a good kind of pain either.)
He glances at George, only to see the brunette looking at him with narrowed, still-teary eyes. Dream can't quite place the look, but he'd put it somewhere between curiosity and lust. (Though that may just be wishful thinking).
George snaps out of it as their kidnapper looks up from xyr phone however, sobbing once more for dramatic effect.
“I'll be back." Xe goes to stride out of the door behind the two, a door they can't see, but George's weak cry of “wait” makes xem halt.
“Yo-you’re going to leave me with him?"
Dream cannot believe the audacity of this beautiful man.
Xe awe, taking a few quick steps back over to George to cup his face, pouting at the flinch George offers at the action. “Only for a few minutes sweetheart, I swear, he can't hurt you anymore."
“What the fuck?" Dream pulls a face, “I was literally never hurting him." He protests.
Both of them ignore him.
“Well, do you have cameras or something?" George cries, “just in case he tries.. something."
Wait okay, despite Dream literally being thrown under a 300 tonne train right now, he'll give him props for that one, that's actually pretty smart.
“No," Xe frown, as if that is the only reason cameras would be a smart idea. “But just scream and I'll be here in a flash, I swear.”
Xe sounds so.. submissive. Dream wonders how George does it. Xe literally kidnapped them , George isn’t supposed to have any power in this situation, especially not getting that power by throwing his partner under the bus.
“Okay." The brunette breathes heavily, as if he supposes he can handle that, although cameras would have been way better. He's clearly disappointed.
Xe clearly picks up on the hint, but only frowns under xyr mask, sighing slightly, as they pull away before walking out the door without even acknowledging Dream’s existence.
George waits for a few seconds, before beginning to giggle quietly, shaking his head as if Dream had told him something funny his cat did last weekend. (Dream had tried talking to George about that a couple days ago, but he was quickly dismissed).
“Oh God, you should have seen the look on your face.” George giggles, "I should do that more often with you Dylan. You're clearly one of my new partners, it's been a while since someone's literally cussed the kidnapper out for me playing the innocent act.” He refers to how Dream had been when he first started crying.
Dream scowls. “Well I was surprised is all, I didn't expect to be abandoned here.”
George shrugs, “don't worry Denny, you can find your own way out, I've seen some of your stuff before, you're pretty good."
Dream can't help but preen under the praise, dismissing how back-handed it sounds and instead basing on the fact that the George just said he saw some of his stuff.
“Thank yo-”
“Like the uh, what's it called again Dale? That mission you did a few years back with that Stewart guy? God, that shit was hilarious.”
Dream's happy expression falls, he knows what mission he's referring to. The Fail that he and Sapnap didn't live down for months in their friend group, their first mission on national television. He cringes. “Oh."
George sighs with a smile, “those were the glory days, huh? When we barely knew what we were doing, just fucking around. I remember this one mission, I stalked the guy wearing a Fedora,” he scoffs, laughing. "I was so dumb, seriously Diego."
Dream’s most recent stalking mission he was wearing a fedora. He takes several deep breaths.
“Anyway, you reckon it's been long enough?”
Dream blinks in confusion, “for.. what?”
“To escape.” George says matter-of-factly, the ropes around his wrist making a thud sound as they hit the floor. He stands up, nursing his barely hurt wrists as he admires the room like it's a show home he's interested in buying.
Dream has begun to come to terms with the fact that George is amazing at what he does, but that doesn't stop him feeling a little bit of shock that he got out of them at all. (Though he wouldn't doubt it if their kidnapper made his purposely looser so as to not damage fragile skin).
“You're escaping… How are you escaping?” Dream sighs, sounding defeated as he finally realises the situation.
George hums, “you can't expect that it's true I was never caught. I'm an international hacker, not a God.” He pats down the concrete of the walls searching for something that Dream is too emotionally tired to figure out what.
“But.. Isn't that like your whole brand? ‘404, the hacker no one can catch’?” Dream asks, confused.
“I've been caught a million times. I just have an escape for every type of building there is, men who work for me in every Mafia boss's army, and an adorable crying face.”
Well, Dream can't deny that.
“But.. Why did none of them say anything?”
George huffs and rolls his eyes as if Dream asked something stupid, and he can't help himself but flush with shame despite it being a valid question. “Because they are embarrassed,” he says, as if it were obvious. "They caught me, and lost me, all because they fell for my little pity party.”
Dream lets this sink in as George continues to pat down the walls. “Well.. Then why are you telling me?”
Then George smiles and slips a hand into a crack near the ceiling Dream hadn't even noticed in the dim lighting. “Because no one will ever believe you.”
Dream's eyes widen, “what-”
“Three, two..” George interrupts him, pausing as he rummages a hand in the crack again, before nodding and blurting a deciding: “one.”
The aftermath was instantaneous.
The room seems to sway slightly as the deafening sound of an explosion rocks the area, pebbles and stones run down the walls, as if trying to escape the danger, and Dream’s chair vibrates under his ass.
Suddenly it's quiet, almost silent if not for the incessant ringing in Dream’s ear. He feels numb, goosebumps rising on his arms and teeth chattering in his mouth. He has no doubt that if his tongue had been between them it would have been bitten right off.
Then, as he inhales a deep shaky breath filled with smoke and ash, everything comes metaphorically crashing down. For a split second he had wondered what the explosion had aimed to do, the room was almost in the exact shape it had been save for a few moved around rocks.
But then he hears it: the chaos. It was a distraction, obviously, made clear by the yells outside and the way the light from under the door behind Dream flickers as guards run by.
George himself seems barely affected, despite how Dream knows for a fact he had to grasp at the wall when the explosion resonated. He brushes himself off, flicking dust from his black cargos and tank top before sighing and admiring the room, as if it were a home he’s leaving and will always hold a warm place in his heart.
Then, when his brown eyes– dry from tears now but emphasized by his still pink-tinted face– finally land back on Dream, he smiles. His black, worn boots making a quiet thumping noise as he slowly walks over, Dream unable to tear his gaze away due to the haze still running through his mind.
Then, George leans down and brushes a blonde lock from his forehead– stuck to his scalp from the humidity of the windowless room– and brushes a pile of debris from his shoulder. “Three.” He murmurs again (this man does love his countdowns), smirk teasing the edge of his lips. “Two.” He licks them again, not to dispose of tears this time but instead just catching Dream’s attention. “O-”
“George.” Dream hadn't even heard the door open, and he mentally curses his brain for not focusing on the mission. The voice is husky, but not exactly deep. It's clearly a man’s either way.
George looks away from Dream’s eyes, his gaze instead meeting whoever's at the door. “There you are.” He straightens out, moving around Dream’s chair and out of view. “I was starting to think you would never come.”
“I'm barely a few seconds late.” Dream can practically hear the eye roll in whoever this is’s words, though his tone seems fond. But despite the blonde’s straining he can't quite turn his head around far enough to check.
George just hums, probably smiling. “Okay, Sam. How's the family?”
Dream hears the unmistakable sound of a gun being refilled, probably some kind of handgun by the occasional clinks.
“Great thanks to you,” Sam continues, Dream doesn't think he likes him very much. “I don't think i ever properly thanked y-”
“Sam shut up.” George is firm but kind, “I was happy to. Is it helpful?”
“Definitely, Ponk is so happy. He's never had a second arm you see, so the prosthetic you gave us is like a dream come true for them.” His voice gets more emotional towards the end, and Dream can't help but feel a little guilty for the assumption he would be some mindless henchman.
Dream can’t see George’s face now that he’s moved, but he can hear the smile in his tone. “It was my pleasure, really. How’s Fran? She still as cute as when I last saw her?”
Dream squints, hoping they’re talking about Sam’s child or pet and not a girl.
“Oh, much cuter.” Sam’s tone increases in pitch as he gets excited. “She’s pregnant now.”
Dream hopes they’re talking about a pet.
“No way! Oh, if you’re selling I may have to take one of the pups for myself, you know how much I love Fran.”
“Even if we weren’t I would give you them all if you asked, you know that George.” Sam laughs, though the sincerity behind it is there.
“You’re sweet.”
The shuffling of the two men stops as they finish collecting themselves, and there’s a final rattle as George assumedly puts his newly found weapons in his belt. The door creaks as Sam opens it again, “see you out there?”
“You know it, big guy.” Then the doors slamming shut again.
It’s silent for a moment as George readjusts his trousers, before Dream lets out an obvious sigh. “You’re actually leaving me here.” He says through a disbelieving laugh.
“I am.” George quips, moving so he’s stood in front of Dream again and can see his face. A small smile threatens his face but he holds it back in favor of nodding politely. “I- uh, hope to see you again, though. It was nice to meet you.”
Dream melts a little. It’s nice to know that even if everything about George is a red flag, at least he knows how to be pleasant.
The pair stare at each other for a lingering moment, before it turns awkward and George lets out an amused huff and directs his attention back to the door. “See you around, Dream.”
And in a blink he’s gone, the door creak barely audible as the screams and gunshots from outside have increased. The yells go up a notch significantly as George enters the fight, and Dream has himself slumping into his uncomfortable chair with a lovesick grin. God, he’s a fucking simp.
“God, you’re a fucking simp.” Dream’s head snaps up at the voice, and he’s almost surprised to see Sapnap leaning against George’s old chair, hair tied back with a bandana, and body covered from assault rifles strapped to him in various places.
“Hey, dude.” The blonde grins at the sight of his rescue, “you come here often?”
Sapnap lets out an unamused huff but ultimately doesn’t bother retorting to the weak joke, instead making his way toward Dream so he can untie him from his binds. “Mission gone wrong, huh? I didn’t expect that when you had the 404 with you.”
Dream smiles weakly as he finally gets his wrists back, though he rubs the rope burns on them with a wince. “Yeah, that’s on me. I got.. Distracted.”
“And the guy just left you here?”
Dream shrugs, though his grin comes back at the reminder of their time together. “He said he wanted to see me again.”
Sapnap rolls his eyes, averting his gaze so he can unstrap a shotgun from his leg and muttering how “ I don't want to see you again if this is your personality now.” Though it’s said lightheartedly.
Dream accepts the gun from his partner with a thankful look, before standing up for the first time in hours and moving with Sapnap so they’re stood infront of the double doors leading to the rest of their kidnappers villain lair. (A run down warehouse.)
“You ready?” Sapnap glances at him, giving him a final once over for any injuries Dream might have been disguising.
“As I’ll ever be.” Dream smiles, before the door bursts open and a group of men with knives are facing them.
Oh well, Dream thinks, maybe George will pay attention to him if he ends up in hospital.