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It had been Dream’s idea.
Their meetup had sparked the expected fantastic reaction from their fanbase; not a person on the internet hadn’t heard of the “dnf meetup”. Fanart was flooding every media platform, fans were going crazy, and Dream and George were reeling in the center of it all. On top of this, the meetup photos had been Dream’s face reveal, which, again, caused a predicted feral uproar.
George was with him. Permanently. The rest of forever would be spent living with his best friend. He was so excited. He had been practically vibrating with excitement from the London airport all the way to the Florida one. He’d almost knocked Dream over with the hug he’d crashed into him with. His face had hurt from smiling so much that night. It was the happiest he could ever remember being.
Two weeks later, he was beginning to settle into routine, finally able to calm down from the high of everything.
That’s when Dream mentioned the subgoal.
It had come up on stream, in front of at least twenty thousand people, the joking suggestion presented to him by Dream through a discord call:
“George.” A short wheeze. “George. Do a kiss subgoal.”
George had laughed at first and, obviously, said that no, he was crazy, he wasn’t going to do that. But chat went ballistic at the idea. Donations of one hundred dollars started rolling in, begging George to kiss Dream. He went over his subgoal by one thousand before he could even change it. Chat spammed “KISS” over and over and over again. Dream whined about his denial a few times, and started wheezing when George’s viewers started their rampage. George pleaded with them, trying to stop them from donating, but it wouldn’t work. Donations climbed over the one hundred range. Dream himself donated a thousand dollars. It was getting out of hand, and George knew he had to stop it.
“Alright, guys,” he said finally, fingers working away at his keyboard. “Kiss subgoal. you get me 10,000 more subs before the stream ends, and I will bring him on camera and kiss him. For real.” He smiled. “No helping them, Dream.”
A groan of protest came from his headphones. George sat back and watched as chat’s “WHAT’s” and “NOOO’s” filled his screen. He was satisfied with himself. Ten-thousand was an absolutely ridiculous goal. He knew he wouldn’t hit it.
He went on about his stream, not at all thinking about what Dream’s lips might feel like on his own, or how he might look at him with half-lidded eyes, or who would be brave enough to introduce their tongue first. Not at all anxiously watching the subgoal rise, five-thousand, six-thousand, six and a half…
It got to a point where the subs just stopped coming in, and George was both relieved and a little disappointed. They’d joked about a kiss so many times, and it wasn’t happening.
George alerted his stream that he was about to end whatever game he had been playing and talk for a few more minutes before ending stream. Chat screamed at him to wait longer, to lower the goal, to give them more time, but he shook his head.
“Sorry guys. Rules are rules.”
Dream had stayed on call the whole time, and had been actively engaged in conversation with George, so George had no idea how the next few minutes happened. He had to have had something to do with it.
He was wrapping up. He was going to end stream. But an alert came across his monitor that stopped him in his tracks completely:
Sapnap donated 500 subs.
…What?
It didn’t stop there.
TommyInnit donated 500 subs.
Quackity donated 300 subs.
Karl donated 200 subs.
George was in utter shock. Dream was wheezing.
Awesamdude donated 300 subs.
WilburSoot donated 300 subs.
BadBoyHalo donated 250 subs.
They kept coming in. Phil, Puffy, Skeppy, Eret, Charlie, Tubbo, Ranboo, Ant, Niki, Punz, Fundy, Technoblade, Jack, Schlatt, Callahan. Mr. Beast. He was raided with their viewers, hit with an onslaught of numbers and donations he could never have dreamt would show on his screen. Dread filled his stomach as he watched the numbers climb. 8,050…8,236…9,009…9,462…
He was speechless.
10,000.
They had done it.
He’d never seen chat so excited.
He shook his head, his mouth open. He’d get them all for this later. But for now…
“George?” Dream’s voice hinted at real concern. George snapped out of his daze.
"Oh my God.”
Dream wheezed. George just smiled and shook his head.
"Well, Dream? Come here. Get off the call and come in here.”
“Oh my God, okay. Okay.” The call ended.
And then his best friend was in the doorway, grinning at him. George’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes skimmed his face, coming face to his lips more often than was probably normal.
“Come here,” George huffed. “I’ll adjust the camera.”
Dream stepped into frame and George angled the camera upwards so that it would see them standing up. He backed up to check and Dream grabbed his hand when he got next to him. They locked eyes.
“Rules?” Dream asked quietly. It was a private, genuine check-in with George. Dream was being cautious with him. George was thankful he understood.
George shrugged. “None.”
Dream grinned. “You’re screwing yourself over with that.”
George lifted his chin confidently. “Do your worst.”
He was met with a rough, insistent pair of lips crashing into his own.
Oh.
And a hand on his face.
Oh, God.
Dream was stupidly good at kissing.
Of course he was.
George just barely caught the noise in his throat before it came out. The world slowed. The lips so fiercely placed on his own seemed to craze him. More, more, he could feel himself screaming, a primal urge raging inside of him. He forgot everything else. Only his best friend’s lips seemed to exist, reckless and rough. Realization hit him like a train; he hadn’t known how much he’d ached for Dream until now.
And then, Dream was gone, and George’s eyes, which had just fluttered shut, snapped opened as he watched the wicked grin spread across his best friend’s face. Green, green eyes teased his brown ones, saying a thousand words on their own, daring him to go in again.
He knows, George realized with gut-wrenching certainty. He knows I liked it. Oh, God.
And then Dream laughed. And George could only smile nervously as he made his way back to his seat.
“Well, guys,” he said, clearing his throat and doing his best to sound normal, “I think…that’s a wrap. Go watch someone else. I was planning on streaming again in a few days but I dunno. I guess we’ll see. Bye! Dream,” he called seeing him start to leave the room, “wait c’mere, say bye to the stream.”
Eyes met. They both knew George was trying to be normal, it seemed. Dream, smiling knowingly once more, obliged and waved bye to the stream. “Bye guys!”
“Okay, bye!”
The stream went black. Offline. Awkwardness filled the room. That, and something more. Emotions, threatening to spill over, weighed down the air. George, so nervous only moments ago, felt a sudden pang of annoyance. What on earth had Dream been thinking? He made a split decision in his anger.
“George,” Dream started. But George was up and kissing him before he could say anything more.
It was more passionate than he had intended it to be, but it served Dream right, he told himself, for what he’d done. It was short, but George felt he made his point. He parted from him, glaring, met directly with Dream’s startled gaze.
“That,” George spat, “was payback.”
He breezed past his stunned friend, heading for the door. He was stopped by a hand around his wrist.
“George,” Dream heeded. “Listen. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not. You think it’s so funny, don’t you? You couldn’t wipe that smug look off your face.”
“You said you didn’t care how I kissed you.”
“I—you—“ George stammered. “It should’ve been obvious you idiot! Kiss me normally. Not like...like...“
“Like what, George?”
“Like that.”
“Like what?”
“That,” he repeated, hissed. “What, were you trying to turn me on or something?”
“George-“
“Was it funny? Did you have a good laugh? Did you—“
“But you liked it, right?”
George, fuming, stared at him, angry and upset for who knows what reason. He had liked it. But that wasn’t the point.
When no response came, Dream continued. “I liked it too, George. Sure, maybe I was a little too…uh…into it, but I liked it too.”
“What is that supposed to mean? You liked it. Fine. It’s not like we’re dating. I’ll be honest it…just…sometimes it feels like you’re playing with my feelings, Dream.” George felt an ache in his chest begin to form. Unwelcome tears welled in his eyes. He blinked and stared at the floor, trying to get rid of the weakness for his best friend he had so desperately struggled with for the past few years. “You joke about this—us—all the time. You like fan art of things I can only dream we would ever do. You follow me everywhere we go and then never get close enough to touch me. You tease me and flirt with me. You don’t feel that way about me, so why? Does it make you feel better, seeing me get flustered over it? Do you like laughing at my expense?” Breathe. In. Out. Tears fell, unwanted and shameful. His chest felt like it was going to explode. A confession slipped out. “I love you, Dream. So damn much. I just wish I could get rid of it. Because it makes things…so difficult.” he winced, taking another breath shakily. “And I—“
“George.”
What did he want now? He glanced up at Dream, who stood there, seemingly ready to rush over to George and comfort him, but hesitant over whether or not he actually wanted to do it. His eyes held grief and understanding.
“George, it’s okay,” he coaxed. “Take a second.”
He did, breathing somewhat sporadically, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. After a few moments, Dream spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
George watched him.
“I’m sorry that I kissed you like I did. Honestly. I should’ve thought about it. It wasn’t fair, and I will make it up to you. Whatever you want. Just say the word.”
A pause. George’s breathing began to even. His eyes were mostly dry now.
Dream looked directly at him and delivered his next sentences with care. “I do love you, George. More than you know. I kissed you like that because I wanted to. Not for your reaction.”
George had trouble processing that. Like some part of him wanted to believe it was a lie. “What does that…”
“I like the fan art because I wish we could do those things too, you know? I never touch you because I’m nervous you’ll pull away. You’re kinda flighty, George. The last thing I want to do is scare you away. I joke because I’m scared, George, because I want it so badly.”
George, still dumbfounded, only managed one word. “Really?”
“Really. I do. I promise.” Dream began to slowly make his way to George, closing the space between them. Their eyes remained timidly locked. “So, will you let me fix this? Will you let me start over?”
“And just how do you plan on doing that?” George half-smirked, feeling the atmosphere begin to dissolve into normalcy.
“Well,” Dream said, faintly sheepish. He took George’s hands in his own. “I was hoping you’d let me kiss you again. Right, this time.”
“Hmm…” George (fake) contemplated. “Well, I suppose I could allow that.”
Dream grinned at him now, his right hand moving to rest on George’s face. He leaned in, and George shut his eyes, waiting for the contact impatiently.
George melted. This kiss, far different from the last one, was slow and so, so soft. It felt like butterfly wings and flower petals, gently grazing his lips, full of love and tender enough to drive him crazy. He kissed back, a little harder and more insistent, and Dream, true to his word, received it fully, matching him at whatever pace he pleased. George didn’t want to stop. This, this, felt right.
Dream pulled away, opening his mouth to say something, but George chased him, humming against his mouth, pulling him closer by the shirt at his waist. Dream allowed it, listening to George and his needs, smiling ever-so-faintly through the kisses he littered George’s own lips with. A flicker of a tongue made George’s breath hitch, and he introduced his own, though Dream used his more, which George had no complaints about.
They did this for a while, silent communication leading them to pepper each other’s necks and faces. Discoveries were made and noted. For the first time in what perhaps was forever, complete honesty was present between them. When they finally resurfaced, neither could stop smiling.
“You’re…” George huffed, out of breath, “a really good kisser.”
“Not so bad yourself,” Dream complied, eyeing his work on George’s neck. His fingers came up to graze a particularly red spot. “You’ll need to cover that up if you plan on streaming in a few days.”
George shrugged. “I don’t have to stream. I’m more worried about Nick.”
Dream’s eyes widened. “Oh, God. I didn’t even think about that.”
“How are we gonna explain it to him? He might kill us.” George paused, suddenly. “Are we…like…a thing now?”
Dream raised an eyebrow. “We just made out. How can you ask that question?”
“Well,” George protested, scrambling to defend himself. “It’s not like we ever really confirmed—“
“Fine then. George…” Dream took his hands, completely serious. “Will you be my boyfriend?”
“Hmmm…” George looked Dream up and down, as if considering his options. As if he hadn’t already made up his mind three years ago. “What’s in it for me?”
Dream smirked, leaning in and whispering in George’s ear. “I’m a really good kisser. A pretty boy told me so.”
A shiver went down George’s spine. He clutched Dream’s hands harder.
“Come on, George,” Dream murmured, his tone now very sincere. “We’ve waited long enough.”
“Fine then,” George said, his heart stuttering at this boy he adored so much. “Only because I love you, idiot.”