Work Text:
So dinner tonight and then a movie? I don’t know any good restaurants in Florida, but I can make us something special? And what are some movies you like? Wait you’ll take forever to respond I’ll just check our Discord chats. You used to yap forever in that damn server.
Please don’t make beans on toast as your “special” dish.
Fuck off!
Dream smiles down at his phone, thumbs hovering over the text bar. He’s trying to remember the top three titles of his favorite movies while stranded in the grocery store, thinking there probably is a long forgotten list somewhere in their old chats. The titles he recommended ages ago are probably out of date for his liking now, but he appreciates the sentiment coming from George.
George. The mysterious presence of a man on call while the rest of Dream’s friends could sit in his office as they all played Minecraft together. George, and his stupid British accent and his annoying groans and obnoxious laugh when Dream would chase him relentlessly in various Minecraft Manhunt vids.
That man was in his house right now. Dream had his room tidied and set up before the Brit even flew in.
Welcome to the Dransion Georgie
Thats sucj a stupid name. Is that really what you call our house?
Dream could audibly hear the brunettes scoff as he thought about the man’s reaction. He probably rolled his eyes too before sending the message. The blond found himself smiling like an idiot, eyes lingering in the usage of ‘our’ in the text.
Yea it’s the Dream Team Mansion
Then call it that. ‘Dransion’ sounds silly
Ok ok fine. I’ll change the name of my house just for you. What movie snacks do you want?
You haven’t even picked a movie idiot
Dream can’t stop the infectious grin taking over his face. This man has him stopped dead in the grocery store international isle, looking for “biscuits” to go with tea.
Cookies? You want cookies and some tea?
Biscuits. And don’t get the instant store brand tea, get some real, authentic leaves please
Why do you want cookies and tea for your movie snacks? Don’t tell me you’ve never had Takis and Mountain Dew before
There was a long pause on George’s end. The three dots indicating his response kept bouncing across Dream’s screen, and over the course of a few minutes the circles would blink out, then reappear.
I just don’t feel too good right now. Jet lag probably
Ok ok. Want me to pick up some cough medicine? Tylenol?
No idiot just the tea. Some good tea. And what movie do you want to watch? If you don’t pick now I’m handing the remote to Sapnap
Scream 3.
That’s a scary movie isn’t it?
😄
I’m not comforting you tonight if you piss yourself from a nightmare
Dream chuckles to himself, grabbing a box of oat ‘Hobnobs’ and a metal tin of what he hopes are authentic tea leaves. When he shakes the container, something soft and brittle responds from the inside. He’s never actually had tea before because it’s gross and bitter, but if George wants it, he will get it.
The blond is now in the checkout line helping the elderly cashier bag his abundance of junk food when his phone rings again from the back of his pocket. Pausing with the tea tin in hand, he checks the Home Screen to find Sapnap has texted him this time.
Hey can you pick up some bandaids? Patches bit George.
Dream halts abruptly, hand frozen over the array of plastic bags. His mouth falls slightly open, worry creeping up the back of his neck.
What?! When? Did you tell him not to touch her tail?
Right after you left. And yea I did.
Did she get to smell his hand first?
I dunno. I think she might have gotten hurt after we let her outside, and George got close to her back leg. The fur is matted, and it’s looking a bit weird.
Fuck ok. Put her in my room I’ll call the vet on my way home
“Sir?”
Dream is brought back to the present, realizing a line has formed behind his empty cart. He quickly bags George’s snack request separately, then pays at the pin pad while wishing the cashier a good night.
On his way to the pharmacy he grabs pet safe ointment and gauze, then snatches a few boxes of Minion bandaids and adds them to his packed buggy. Pausing, he wavers at the medicines arranged below the pharmacist’s counter and decides to snag a bottle of Tylenol just to be safe.
“You got someone sick?” A lady asks, appearing around the corner with a tray full of pills.
Dream looks up at her, offering a weak smile.
“No, just jet lag.”
“Ah, welcome to America! Jet lag isn’t the only thing that will get ya here.”
Dream forces an awkward nod.
“I can ring those up for ya if you’re ready.”
Dream places all of his last minute purchases on the plastic counter, revealing his card to pay on the reader.
The woman pauses as she looks over his items, shuffling behind the counter space before revealing a rectangular box coated in dust.
“Take a few masks, for free. We have tons left over from Covid, and the flue’s goin’ around again. A strand we can’t detect that’s avoiding all previous vaccines. If you’re staying long, we recommend you get vaccinated so ya don’t get ill.”
Dream grabs a fist full of the blue surgical masks, nodding politely as he puts one on.
“Thanks.”
“Stay safe out there, and make sure you wash your hands!”
— — —
“This is Doctor Niki at Janimal Veterinary Clinic. Unfortunately, the caller you are trying to reach is not available at the moment. At the tone, please record your message, or you may hang up, or press 1 for more options.”
The rain is coming down so hard Dream can’t see the lines on the road. Fuck the state for not repainting them with their tax dollars.
The plastic wipers fight for their lives against his battered windshield, and the oncoming storm is so loud he can’t hear his own music blasting on the radio. He still tries to listen though, moving his road-related anxiety to the voice rapidly singing as he presses the bubble labeled “1” on his phone screen.
“Come on, pick up!”
Nobody will pick up. The clinic closed at 5pm today.
Deep down he knows no one is in the front office, and his call is ringing dumbly at the empty desk.
The options are a bunch of nothing.
He calls again to actually leave a message.
“This is Doctor Niki at Janimal Veterinary Clinic. Unfortunately, the caller you are trying to reach is not available at the moment. At the tone, please record your message, or you may hang up, or press 1 for more options.”
BEEP.
He wasn't really driving fast on the slick road, but he still felt the car slightly drift right as an intersection light appeared up ahead. He didn’t know what to say or how professional to be over the phone, and he’s called Niki tons of times regarding Patches because that cat is his baby girl. Niki would pick it up tomorrow and understand immediately by simply hearing the fear in his voice.
Green light washed over the pavement, creating a reflection like he was driving over a giant mirror.
And that’s when he saw it.
A shadow moving from the tree line, cut up by the rain. Something was running quickly in an attempt to cross the street.
Dream slams on the breaks, dropping his phone mid sentence as his car skids into the empty intersection. Something barely misses the passenger side, quickly wobbling out of his line of sight as he comes to a hard stop. He catches his breath, trying to piece together what he really saw striding in the reflection of green incandescence. He is sure it was on all fours, walking somewhat like a deer if it were on crack.
He keeps going, slowly inching through the square, scanning to see any sign of the animal. He cranks the music volume all the way down, sitting in dead silence while staring out the rain-washed windows, squinting hard into the pitch black tree line.
Nothing.
Dream wonders if his anxiety levels are starting to cause hallucinations.
When he gets a panic attack here and there, a flash of something will strike his vision. Sometimes it’s small enough to look like a bug flew by, other times it’s like a full shadow fleeing from his bedroom hallway at night.
Picking up his phone, he’s noticed the call screen is gone, and instead of the picture of him and Sapnap posing at Twitch Con, a “no signal” alert blinks on the screen.
— — —
“I’m home,” Dream calls out, placing grocery bags on the marble kitchen island. His hands are still shaking, and he has to remind himself to breathe every few seconds. He’s fine he’s fine. It’s ok.
Sapnap rounds the corner from the living-room dressed in an old merch drop with his ball cap still on. Curly black hair sticks out from the sides, causing his friend to brush them away in irritation every few seconds.
“Hey Dream.”
“Is Patches ok?” The blond doesn’t waste a moment of time while sifting through the plastic bags, grabbing pet ointment and gauze.
Sapnap hesitates, and immediately regrets the action. He sees worry deepen on Dream’s face through his haunted look and the sweat forming on his hairline.
“She’s been quiet since I put her in your room. I left a tin of cat food and a bowl of water for her.”
Dream lets out a light sigh, bringing a hand across his face.
“I couldn’t get in touch with Niki. Nobody stayed late at the clinic tonight.”
“We’ll call her first thing in the morning. She loves Patches, it shouldn’t be a problem getting her in.”
Dream nods absentmindedly, shuffling the bandages and ointment between his freckled hands.
“Let me unpack these and you can go check on her,” Sapnap murmurs softly, moving to grab the bag full of Takis.
“How is George? Is the movie still on for tonight?” Dream is now shuffling through his pile of snacks in search of the tea tin and Tylenol, trying to keep his voice from stuttering.
“No,” Sapnap’s voice wavers. “He isn’t feeling good. Said a headache started a bit after you texted. Before you got home he went to his room.”
An odd weight of worry settles over the room, and Dream finally gets a good look at his friend. Sapnap’s face is pale, his eyes betray blatant worry, and one of his fists is clenched knuckle white around the Takis bag.
It’s almost like Sapnap has seen a ghost. Or a strange animal on the road that disappeared with no explanation.
“We seem to all have anxiety in this house,” Dream forces a chuckle to lighten the mood. Deep down he knows Sapnap is never the one to be horrifically anxious. It’s always the blond who worries himself to death, and George has his own art of shutting himself off when he needs to process new thoughts.
“Side effects of the Dransion,” Sapnap adds lightly.
“Well,” Dream swallows his half-laugh, attempting a breathing exercise as he finishes unpacking their essentials. “I’ll check on our sick houseguests and then we can still watch the movie if you want.”
Sapnap smiles. The act is warm, spreading over his face while his fist loosens around the chips.
“I can feel the Dreamnap allegations from a mile away.”
Dream swats at him, then slides the now slightly dented canister of leaves towards his friend.
“Make George some tea while I check on our patients.”
Sapnap looks at the leaves like he’s never been outside or touched grass in his entire life.
Dream wouldn’t exactly say his house is huge, but being a famous YouTuber can really get you far in life if you try. The living room is vast but nicely decorated for a male living space. The flat screen mounted to the wall hadn’t been turned on yet, and a mess of blankets were scattered around the couch where it looks like George and Sapnap tussled for the remote. Patches’ bed is pushed comfortably against the coffee table, but upon closer look Dream can see tufts of fur that’s more than normal shed. Much of her toys are strewn about the house, and in the hallway Dream nearly spills the water for George three times as he blindly trips over them.
Besides his insistent cursing, the hall is quiet with the acceptance of air conditioning running full blast. Dream passes their many YouTube plaques and TwitchCon awards hung pristinely on the walls. Flanking them are framed pictures of their families and a few memes scattered here and there.
The blond starts to fidget again with the items in his hands, an antsy feeling spreading through his body. His bare feet are cold on the wooden floor as he walks slowly, passing their shared half-bathroom before stopping at George’s door. Sapnap, and what is now George’s rooms are right across from each other, with Dream’s at the end of the hall. The ravenette had left his door cracked, giving one leeway to peak inside and see his old laundry and unmade bed. George, on the other hand, has his door closed. With a sigh, Dream shifts the supplies to knock softly upon his friend’s door.
“Georgie,” he whispers, not wanting to wake the man who’s possibly sleeping.
There’s no sound or noise of indication that he’s even in the room.
The soft air conditioner continues to play with Dream’s curls, and in the background he can hear Sapnap slam the microwave door shut from the kitchen. It’s peaceful in a way, and the blond is thankful he can’t hear the thunderstorm raging outside.
“Georgieeee,” he says louder, turning the door knob. “I’m coming in.”
The door creaks lightly as George’s dark room is revealed.
The blackout curtains are tightly shut to the point where Dream can hardly make out distinct objects in the space. As his eyes adjust slowly, he can make out the neatly made bed up against the wall, and in front is the desk he had ordered and built specifically for George’s streaming needs. It’s plain as of now, as his friend’s PC won’t ship out for another few weeks. After scanning the room for a few moments longer, Dream finds a mass on the floor that he assumes is George’s abandoned luggage- the suitcases he begged Dream to unpack for him his first day here. It takes him a few seconds to realize it’s not a pile of bags settled over strewn clothes, but the man himself who is curled up on the floor.
“George?” Dream practically throws the door wide open, spilling a shaft of light through the thick shadows as he hurries in.
He freezes upon hearing the man shuffle, wondering briefly if he’s walked into something private, and then promptly pushes the absurd thought away.
“D…Dre-…Dreammmm.”
The blond is shocked, face turning red because it sounded like his friend just moaned his name. The absurd thought returns, and he finds himself retreating slowly from the room.
“Um,” he stutters, bumping into the door on his way out. The slight collision causes him to spill more water and drop the gauze. “S-sorry George, uh-,”
Horrible cracking sounds omit, and George has twisted himself into an upright position. Dream can’t see his face or make out anything but the stiff, shadowy form of the man, yet the way he’s leaned forward on his knees has the blond frozen in shock. Dream can only hear the blood roaring in his ears as his chest tightens. Suddenly the room is folding in on itself as he watches George twitch oddly on the floor.
This, can’t be real, right?
Why is he acting like this?
“Dreammmm. We should. . . stream tonight.”
George’s groans are cut off by him hacking. It sounds like he’s trying to pass something stuck in his throat. The coughing then turns to crying, loud sobs filling the room.
Dream can’t move. He’s stuck to the door clutching the amenities in his hands, mouth slightly open at whatever the fuck is happening right before his very eyes. Bells are ringing in his head, telling him to get out of the room and call police, an ambulance, somebody.
Instead, he’s frozen.
The coughing stops suddenly, replaced by low breathing and slight gurgling noises.
Dream can’t help but think George is playing a prank on him. Maybe Sapnap is in on it. And you know what? That makes hella fucking sense. Those two shitheads would definitely do something like that to him.
Sapnap’s ominous text about bandaids and George’s calculated slow responses. George hiding in his room while Sapnap waits for the height of the prank to take place, making a cup of tea slow as hell on purpose. The tease from George about pissing the bed over a scary movie.
“Ok guys, this isn’t funny. George you’re being a dumbass.”
“HAhA hA. . . Dreammm.”
“No seriously, guys stop!” Dream raises his pitched voice, hoping Sapnap can hear them. “This isn’t funny. You know I have chronic anxiety.” Dream can say he’s almost offended that his very friends would push him to the edge of a panic attack.
There sounds more sick popping noises, like a limb was moved the wrong way. The sound makes Dream’s stomach sick, and through the settled shadows he can see George whip his head around to look at him. Only, his head isn’t…sitting normally on his body. It’s angled too far to the side of his right shoulder, hanging oddly as if he were having trouble keeping it upright. Even though Dream can’t see far into the room, he registers George’s piercing stare cut through his chest. It’s intense, and the heavy atmosphere makes the blond’s breathing come out in shorter gasps.
They make eye contact somehow; Dream can feel it.
George goes rigid.
Dream is shaking as he brings one foot into the hallway. In his peripheral a tiny dot dances, then zooms away outside of his blurred range of vision. He can feel the panic attack coming, pushing him over the edge of reason any moment now.
Faster than lightning George is on the move. He doesn’t just get up and sprint towards the blond, no, because that would make too much sense. He’s on all fours with his stomach arched upwards, head twisting back, running legs first at Dream.
All the amenities in his hand crash to the ground. The cup of water shatters as it hits the floor, and George’s right foot slides in the puddle as his left palm rolls on the gauze. The Tylenol bottle pops open, spilling hundreds of circular pills across the wood paneling. Dream has fallen back in his escape out of the room, the breath knocked out of him from impacting with the ground. He’s screaming, one hand on the door to shove it closed as George’s face finally comes into the view of the light.
Sickly black veins run up from his neck, blood is gushing from his swollen mouth, and his eyes. His beautiful brown eyes have gone opalescent and cloudy.
The Brit flings himself forward, body folding unnaturally until he has a grip on the closing door, one hand covering Dream’s. On his knuckle, a small bloated bite mark is visible with little black veins twisting all the way up his arm. He digs his nails deep into Dream’s skin, causing the blond to scream even more.
“SAPNAP! SAPNAP HELP!”
Down the hall, pitched yowls shriek uncontrollably as Patches shreds her claws through Dream’s bedroom door.
— — —
Sapnap grabs a mug from their coffee cabinet, picking an obnoxious one on purpose. One George would absolutely loathe to drink his tea from. It’s bulky and hard to hold- the shape once representing an animal before countless dishwasher cycles ran the paint away. He fills it with water, opens the dented canister of tea, and dumps half of the container into the cup.
God, why did Dream have him do this?
Sapnap doesn’t think he’s ever touched tea in his life. Maybe his mom tried to coax him some when he was younger and had the stomach flue every other week, but he always vocalized how nasty it smelled, and even made fun of her for drinking ‘herb water.’
Now he gets to deal with the nauseating smell of sweet tea in the house thanks to George.
He presses a two minute mark on the microwave, smiling. George was finally with them in Florida after all these years. Dream has never been so happy before; the ravenette swears there’s a spring to Dream’s step whenever he goes to visit George’s room. His mood has been infectious to the point where Sapnap doesn’t even complain about making tea for George. He didn’t even care what movie the brunette wanted to watch. Just as long as they were all together on the couch with Patches, living it up in the Dransion, things would be ok.
That is, until Patches started acting weird.
A loud crash pulls Sapnap from his stupor.
He jolts, head swiveled towards the hallway with confusion littering his face. What the fuck were they doing? Those two really couldn’t keep their hands off each other, damn. The microwave beeps, and he retrieves the mug right as strangled yelling begins.
“SAPNAP! SAPNAP HELP!”
Sapnap is sliding down the corridor in fuzzy socks, one hand holding a steaming mug of tea and the other gripping his phone. He nearly drops everything he’s carrying at the sight lain out before him.
Dream is on the floor, pushing against the guest bedroom door like his life depended on it. And. . . George? Sapnap can’t grasp what’s really going on. The Brit’s head is shoved between the door and the wall, his mouth chewing on the wood while his right arm claws for Dream. He’s making horrible noises between grotesque chomps, breaking teeth in the process. The pain doesn’t seem to phase him. It’s like he’s possessed.
Dream is also crying.
“Sapnap,” he calls out, unable to tear his eyes away from their sick friend.
“Oh my god, what the fuck.”
“Sapnap, call an ambulance. Call the police, I don’t care! We need, we probably need animal control too!”
The ravenette shakily sets the cup of tea down near his own bedroom entrance, quickly dialing 911 on his phone. He’s trying to stay calm- for himself and for Dream, but adrenaline courses through his body making his head hurt. George seemingly quiets down, but he’s still chomping on the door without breaking his fierce eye contact with Dream. As the first number fails and Sapnap goes to type another, the brunette separates his mouth from the wood, a few teeth popping from his red gums.
“Dree. . . aam,” he slowly groans out. “Dreee. . . guh, guh….,”
“It’s ok Georgie,” Dream whispers out, the words barely reaching Sapnap who pauses for a millisecond as the dial tone echos in the hallway. The blond brings a hesitant hand to George’s very pale face, attempting to brush a string of sweaty hair out of his clouded view. “We’ll get you to a hospital, we’ll figure this out, ok? Stay with me now.”
“Dream, wait-,”
George snaps his head so suddenly his neck breaks, and the next second he’s sinking what’s left of his teeth into Dream’s hand.
”-the caller you are trying to reach is not available at the moment. At the tone, please record your message, or you may hang up, or press 1 for more options.”
Knowing fear flashes in Sapnap’s eyes. He’s not the idiot he pretends to be. When Patches started acting weird at her arrival home, he knew. George was so entertained by seeing her though, so excited to finally meet the cat Dream always ranted about over call, he let it slide. He thought maybe she was just hungry, or thirsty, or tired from her adventures exploring the outside.
The blood matted in her back leg, and the absent ringing of her bell collar should have been the initial red flag. But he didn’t want to deny George the experience they’d been promising him. It was when she turned to snarl at the Brit, the crazy look in her eyes, that Sapnap knew shit was going to go down. He just didn’t want to worry Dream, especially because this moment was special for him too.
Sapnap starts forward, yanking George forcefully back by his hair as the man’s mouth rips skin straight from Dream’s hand.
“Back up! Back up!”
The blond is crying, clutching his bleeding palm while pressing himself against the wall.
“Sapnap-,”
”I’m so sorry Dream.”
Sapnap violently shoves George back into his room, slamming the door shut as they stand back, heaving. A few loose teeth clatter to the floor from the force of the door’s collision.
“Oh my god.”
Dream relaxes slightly still gripping his hand. His face is grim, contorted with pain as he clenches his teeth. Blood seeps between his fingers, and the ravenette unfortunately gets a glimpse at his friend’s injury. George ripped a chunk through the muscle, causing a white sliver of bone to protrude.
“I’ll watch the house while you guys are in the hospital, ok? I’ll also take Patches to the vet first thing in the morning.”
Sapnap blabbers, phone up to his ear as a distraction from the fact that no-one is responding to his emergency service calls. He’s tried many different numbers, and even the emergency button on the Home Screen. But everything goes back to an automated message, telling him to try something else. His brain feels fried and his hands begin to shake as a level of fear he’s never felt before rushes his nervous system.
Dream is still on the floor, slowly going silent while his ragged breathing evens out. His body slumps comfortably as the right of his vision gets cloudier, and the zooming dots fly at him, causing a newfound headache to form.
As he attempts to gets a grip on reality, a shifting glint catches his groggy eye, and he looks up to find the handle of the door turning slowly.
The hinges groan as the door drifts open slowly.
Sapnap freezes, annother automated call message blaring in his ear as he watches the guest bedroom door- George’s door- swing open. The man is standing, but not in the way George usually presents himself. It’s not the Brit’s carefully guarded stance with his arms folded over his chest and a face deep in thought. No, he’s slumped over in a fashion George himself would scoff at. His cloudy eyes stare wildly at the two of them.
He lunges forward, mouth gnashing at Dream.
Sapnap’s phone clatters to the ground, screen up. He’s reaching into his room, hand finding the shape of his nightstand to rummage through the top drawer. He keeps his gaze fixed on his friends, watching horrifically as the blond screams his head off while George sinks his mouth into his tan neckline.
There is no reasoning anymore. Sapnap refuses to think clearly, shoving any humanity out of his mind as he watches the Brit pull his bloody mouth grotesquely from Dream’s skin and make eye contact with the ravenette. His face no longer carries the warmth of George. It’s just a disfigured, angry face covered in blood, gnashing its teeth to get a taste of human flesh. George claws himself over Dream, a thin string of skin dangling from his lips.
Sapnap clicks the safety off of his gun, aiming blindly with tears in the corners of his eyes.
His phone, forgotten on the floor beside the box of Minion bandaids lights to life. His Home Screen displays a fanart of the three of them watching the sunset in a grassy plain.
Ding!
Hey, it’s Bad. The power’s gone out and I’m having trouble calling everyone right now. Wanted to check in and see if you guys are ok? The storm is pretty bad and we have no electricity or anything! Skeppy wants to head over to your place and wait out the weather if that’s alright. We promise not to be overbearing, and we’re excited to meet George!
We’re heading over now, see you in a bit!
.
.
.
.
BANG!