Chapter Text
May 20th 2024 (Day 0)
“You couldn’t actually handle dating him.”
The words aren’t said to him like a dare. The words are said to him like a statement. A fact.
Somehow that’s worse.
George scoffs and rolls his eyes, crossing his ankles as he takes up an entire portion of the main grey couch in the Dream Team house. This argument had all started because of the stupid couch and how much space he was taking up. Occupied space Sapnap wanted to sit in. George had told him to fuck off and sit on the other side of the couch and Sapnap had whined about not being able to see the T.V from any other spot except from the space George was comfortably sprawled out over.
“Whomp, whomp,” George had said.
“You’re so fucking selfish, dude,” Sapnap fired back just as quick.
And that’s how this particular argument had started.
Their arguments aren’t few and far between. Quite the opposite in fact. Their arguments are practically weekly. An improvement from being every other day like they used to be but still frequent enough for George to be used to Sapnap’s brand of shenanigans. Sapnap’s words very rarely hurt, they rarely even touch George deeply.
But this one, this one—
“I could,” George bravely states, puffing out his chest as much as he can from his half sitting, half laying down to take up more cushion space, position. “He’d love to date me.”
He nearly winces at the truth behind those words. He knows Dream actually probably would and in fact, had told George so before over late night calls and through sleep drunk whispers but that doesn’t stop that truth from feeling secretive and precious, something to hide on Dream’s behalf from Sapnap. George isn’t sure if their mutual best friend also knows about Dream’s quiet feelings. He assumes Sapnap probably does if Dream's close relationship with him is as strong as George knows it to be.
“There’s no way you could get him to agree.” Sapnap flops himself down on the other side of the couch, taking up one cushion in comparison to the way George is expertly sprawled out over three, four if he points his toes. “And even if you did, he’d annoy you within a week. You’re not built for his kind of love.”
“I bet you I could last a whole month.”
Sapnap scoffs. “You—no you couldn’t! You can hardly commit to a T.V show for that long before getting bored.”
“If I can date Dream for a whole month, what will you give me?”
Sapnap leans back, one eyebrow raised so far up it nearly disappears beneath the brim of his hat. “Fine, you really wanna do this?”
George nods, already smiling. Easy money.
“If you can survive dating Dream for a month without him breaking up with you and without breaking up with him, I’ll do whatever you want for a whole week.”
George considers. “Two weeks.”
“Two? Fine, fine —two weeks. And if I win and either you or Dream break up with each other then you do whatever I say for two weeks.”
“Deal.” George puts his phone down and holds out his hand for Sapnap to shake. Of course this means Sapnap has to get up off his side of the couch to shake George’s hand but once they do, the deal is struck.
“I don’t know why you look so smug, George,” Sapnap says, smirking like he’s already won. “You have to get him to date you first and there’s no way he’s going to agree to that.”
George bites the inside of his cheek from smiling too hard, firing off a message to Dream to ask when he’ll be home.
This will be the easiest argument he’s ever won.
❮-❯
May 20th 2024 (Day 0)
Dream, unfortunately, is a very busy man and he takes a while to respond to George’s message. Even longer before he finally gets home.
George waits for him by the door as he sometimes does when Dream stays out too late. Working or partying, it doesn't matter. If Dream’s out too late, sometimes it feels better to sit and wait for him to get home than to go to bed and wait until morning to see him.
The elusive Dream himself comes in the door and kicks his shoes off in an uncoordinated mess of movement that doesn’t scream intoxicated but rather fatigued. He’s tired. Maybe now isn’t the best time to ask.
Nearly laughing at himself for feeling just as nervous as if he was asking a girl out on an actual date, George pretends to ignore Dream in the same way a stubborn cat might, and settles into his same exact spot on the gray couch that he had been sitting on earlier, making fateful deals with Sapnap.
To George’s delight, Dream’s in a mood for closeness and he walks (more or less stumbles) over to the couch without a word, just a quiet grunt of acknowledgement as he lifts George’s outstretched legs to sit at his feet, placing George’s calves and ankles over his thighs when he sits down.
Sapnap had tried a similar idea earlier, shoving George’s legs off the couch to try and sit. George had simply kicked him as hard as he could in the knee until Sapnap backed off only to start their argument of just how selfish George was and just how much he’d never actually be able to make ‘DNF’ real with all of his undesirable traits.
But here’s Dream who’s different in a multitude of ways, gently moving George’s legs before sitting down and setting them on top of himself. And he knows he can do that too, knows it would be uncharacteristic for George to get mad at him in the same way he’d get pissy with Sapnap.
Maybe Dream’s different because he wasn’t rough when moving George's legs. Maybe it’s because Dream immediately lolls his head back onto the headrest of the couch and squeezes George’s ankle before rubbing the joint with his thumb in some sort of circular massaging motion. A massage as if George had been the one out all day doing who knows what to keep the household afloat. More than afloat, smooth and clear sailing with the promise of never sinking because of the life Dream had built for them.
George and Sapnap helped build that life of course. Without them there was no Dream but George doesn’t think he would’ve ever considered doing anything like this without Dream’s, well, dreams in the first place.
“God, I’m tired,” Dream mutters, his eyes closed.
“Go upstairs then,” George replies, barely looking up from his phone. What was that one thing Sapnap had called him again? Ah, right. Unempathetic.
“Don’t wanna.”
“Stay tired then, idiot.”
Dream’s touch on his ankle moves up his calf, easing gentle pressure on the muscle. George hasn’t worked out much recently and he’s certainly not sore but something about the massage is nice. He hopes Dream knows the very fact that he’s allowing the touch means he likes it, more than likes it even.
“Dream,” he says before he can convince himself out of it. “We need to talk.” He forces as much seriousness and genuinity into his voice as he can manage and immediately, Dream’s eyes flash open. He sits up, his hand on George’s leg freezes.
“George, we need to talk. I’m going to say something. Something sort of—I don’t think you’ll—no I know you won’t. But I need to say it. Just once. I think I’ll die if I don’t.”
Can he really do this to Dream? The same Dream who confessed his love to him an ocean away. Who knew George wouldn’t reciprocate from the start and had still run into it headfirst anyway because he needed to tell him, loved too largely not to confess. And now what? George was going to use that love to his advantage to win a stupid bet? It wasn’t right.
Maybe he was the selfish, unempathic asshole Sapnap said he was.
“Nevermind.”
“No, what is it?” Dream looks at him with so much love and acceptance that George isn’t sure he deserves anymore. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”
Could he? And that’s when George realizes something. He could tell Dream anything. Sapnap never said he couldn’t tell Dream about the bet. Avoiding deceit was never in the terms and conditions. The fine print didn’t say Dream must be aware of the bet, just that Dream had to date George for a month. That’s all.
He could tell him. Or maybe, he could not.
“I need you to date me,” George blurts. He doesn’t stutter, doesn’t chicken out, and doesn’t hesitate. He just—says it.
Dream’s breath catches and George goes to tell him why he needs Dream to date him. He goes to tell him about the bet but Dream, the master of fast talking and thinking, is already speaking.
“Date you,” he says in nothing more than a whisper. “You want me to date you.”
“Yeah, but…”
And then something horrible happens.
Dream’s eyes go a little starry, a little teary. His entire spirit lifts like a balloon being filled with helium. A bright, wide smile takes over his face and he laughs, so joyous, so unhindered that George startles at the sound as if he’s been jumpscared by a scary movie.
In the past year, the past year and a half or so, there were days where George fought to put even the smallest of smiles on Dream’s face and now here he is, beaming from ear to ear like he’s just been granted his biggest wish.
“Actually?” And here’s George’s opportunity for an out. Dream's giving him the chance to tell him about the bet but Dream’s smile is so lovely, so perfect. He can’t. He just can’t. He can’t tell Dream no. He can’t be the one to take Dream’s happiness away.
Dream’s rarely happy like this. There’s very few memories that George can really compare this moment to. Dream finding out he was meeting the Sooners, Dream finding out about the approval of George’s visa, his reaction to how well the face reveal did…
But in the past few months, the past year maybe, that amount of happiness in Dream had been rare to see. George had done anything in his power to bring even the littlest of light to Dream’s day. Light in the room. Isn’t that what he had said?
Bet. It’s a bet, George’s mind screams, the technical, intelligent side of him hitting at the glass between his thoughts and his verbal words. Tell him it’s a bet before it’s too late. Sapnap’s right, you can’t actually do this.
“Yeah,” George whispers, suddenly meek out of nowhere. This shyness, what void of his personality had it come from? Maybe he was just that good of an actor.
Being in love with Dream, had he not played that role for multiple years already? Not on purpose, mostly unknowingly, but he was convincing enough wasn’t he? There were video compilations, online essays and Tiktok edits for proof. Being in love with Dream could be easy to act out if he simply flipped the DNF switch on.
“Okay, yeah, okay.” Dream takes a steadying breath and sort of, to George’s surprise, pushes away from him until he’s no longer sitting beneath George’s legs and instead on a cushion of his own. “I’d like that.”
“You’re moving further away, idiot,” George points out, wiggling closer again. It doesn’t work well because he needs the armrest behind his back as a backrest but to get his legs on Dream’s lap again he needs to move further down the couch. “Come here.”
“No, I know.” Dream rests a slightly trembling hand on George’s ankle, as if to stop him. He pulls his hand away just as quickly, like maybe he doesn’t want George to feel him shaking. “It’s just—different now.”
“Duh, you should come closer.”
“I shouldn’t,” Dream says. He catches himself and looks away, eyes landing on Patches who’s lightly prowling into the living room, tail flicking. She must’ve heard her father come home. Neither of the kittens come running, just Patches.
“Okay,” George says with a slightly mocking tone. He doesn’t feel rejected by Dream moving away (his space is his own) but he was also eager to prove himself. The fact that he didn’t have feelings for Dream made it even more imperative that he attempted to prove he did, if only to win the bet. “What’s different about it?”
“There’s weight now,” Dream explains. “Before if you didn’t want me touching you I’d assume you’d like—kick me or something.”
It’s scary how well Dream is able to somehow predict how George would respond to unwanted touch from his friends. He had done exactly that to Sapnap earlier, kicked him as hard as he could right in the knee.
“Before you were kind of like a cat,” Dream continues as Patches hops onto the couch, immediately laying herself over Dream’s thigh where George’s feet had been. Dream strokes her back and uses her as a place to look instead of meeting eyes with George. “If I irritate Patches, she can just up and leave but she can’t actually leave the house. If I annoyed you before you might get upset but—that’s it. Now you can—we’re dating right? You could break up with me so whatever this is, I need to be able to feel it out first.”
“This, Youtube, George, I’ve accessed the risks. I think we could do it. I want you to come with me. You and Pandas. We can do this, I know we can.”
“Access the risks,” George repeats, though Dream doesn’t know it’s a repeated phrase. He doesn’t know it’s his own words from a core memory of George’s. The memory that started it all. A memory that George would never want to go back and shift history to change. He’d do it again every time. All of the variables and the negative factors, all of it, he wouldn’t have changed a bit of it.
He wouldn’t have even changed Dream’s love for him. Not even if he was given the chance.
“Exactly,” Dream says with a nod. “And I never thought—this—I—it feels unreal. I never expected to have this. Not even then.”
George hears the unspoken context to Dream’s words. When I first confessed to you.
“So you’re worried that touching me is what? Gonna scare me away?” It’s slightly teasing but it fails to make Dream smile like it should and George’s teasing immediately falls flat as he too sinks into the heavy silence between them. “Oh, you actually think that.”
“It’s not that I think that specifically,” Dream says. Patches butts her head into his palm, her purring a quiet hum. “I just know I can be a lot, in a lot of ways. I don’t want to smother you or scare you away.”
For a moment George wishes he had in fact mentioned the bet. Then at least Dream would know for sure George was literally incapable of breaking up with him for a month, lest he face Sapnap’s consequences but then again, wasn’t this the whole point of the bet? The argument Sapnap had made in the first place, that George wouldn’t be able to handle dating Dream. Maybe this is where George gets to prove him wrong.
So, taking a deep breath and putting his mind into the game, George does his best impression of what he thinks Dream would need in a supportive partner, the kind of person that George would approve of if Dream were dating them.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to touch me,” George starts by saying. A safe thing to say. A thing that he knows is right to say. Dream looks up, even he seems surprised hearing something that’s not necessarily profound, but emotionally wise coming from George. “But I don’t want the reason you’re not touching me to be because you think if you don’t walk on eggshells around me, I’ll break up with you. I want to date you, Dream. Not some filtered, watered down version of you.”
His words. Something about them. They don’t feel like a lie. Why doesn’t that feel like a lie?
George’s internal panic is interrupted by a wounded sound from Dream, like no words could possibly express what he’s feeling in that moment, in the after shock of George’s words.
“Sorry, it’s weird hearing you say that.”
“What?”
“That you want to date me. It’s weird. It doesn’t feel—real.”
It’s not. It’s not. It’s not.
“Well, believe it, idiot.” George kicks his feet out and Patches jumps out of the way just in time as George’s feet land in Dream’s lap. She climbs onto the back headrest of the couch and curls up there, the tip of her tail flicking back and forth, annoyed after nearly getting kicked in the face. George would’ve never actually hit her; he’s not a monster. Dream on the other hand deserves a few heel kicks to his thigh. “Rub my feet.”
Dream laughs. It’s better than the solemn thinking gloom that he’s been sitting in for the past two minutes. “No, you’re such—you’re so needy, what the hell?”
Dream’s hand does land on his ankle again and George deems that suitable. Maybe that’s what he’ll do to keep up the act of dating Dream. He'll make sure they’re constantly touching at every moment possible. Not in public of course, just at home. A tactic to make sure he’s constantly reminding Dream that they’re dating. Just so it feels real to him.
George sets his phone down to watch Dream who’s now on his phone (scrolling Reddit most likely) while massaging George’s ankle. George watches Patches nap and drool behind Dream’s head and watches the change the screen light makes on Dream’s facial features.
He falls asleep like that, watching Dream’s face, realizing that right now, for the next month if everything goes to plan, he has a boyfriend.
❮-❯
May 21st 2024 (Day 1)
George doesn’t think this little bet will ruin their friendship. Dream might be a little hurt but he’ll laugh it off as he does all SNF shenanigans and they’ll move on. He’ll hyperfixate on some new project or maybe another person and they’ll both move on. Maybe one day he’ll bring up the story at Dream’s wedding and embarrass him in front of his new partner. Yes, that sounds perfect.
George sips at a bottle of lemonade as Sapnap walks into the kitchen. He’s wearing basketball shorts and a hoodie, hair holding the imprint of his regular baseball hat. He probably just got done doing a stream. He takes one look at George as he walks in and wrinkles up his nose.
“Oh god, dude. That’s nasty. Don’t drink out of the container.”
George smacks his lips. “I’m drinking the rest of it.”
“There’s a whole liter left in there!”
“And it’s mine,” George declares, tipping up the jug and gulping a good amount down. He gets a bit on his shirt in an effort to drink a lot very quickly and as obnoxiously loud as possible. The disgusted look on Sapnap’s face is plenty rewarding and definitely worth the drops onto his t-shirt. “Yum.”
“You’re disgusting.” Sapnap opens the fridge and starts fishing around for something. Probably leftovers.
Dream walks in moments after Sapnap, rubbing at his eyes. George sets his jug down and studies him, trying to figure out if Dream’s rubbing at his eyes because he’s tired, just woken up, or because he’s been staring at a computer screen for longer than necessary. He pulls his hands from his eyes and immediately his gaze lands on George as if he’s a beacon of light in the middle of the kitchen.
“Hi,” Dream says, so bright and so happy to see him that George glances to Sapnap for a second, worried Sapnap might see a difference in Dream’s behavior. He doesn’t. “Morning.”
“Did you sleep?” George asks. Not because it’s a boyfriend thing to do or necessarily considerate of him to ask but because he’s genuinely curious if Dream got any sleep between their conversation last night, and this morning.
Dream’s bloodshot eyes say he’s been staring at a screen. George would place money on it.
“Just been answering emails, you know how it is. Ken wanted me to look at some stuff.”
No, for the most part, George hardly knows how it is. He knows Dream works hard and he knows Dream works relentlessly but sometimes Dream’s emailing people George didn’t even know they needed until those people are already doing work for them.
Dream, in a way, is like an infinite Minecraft world and George is the player. Dream is endlessly generating new terrain, presenting him with new biomes, new structures, new land generation and George is mindlessly running, looking around in awe at the world around him but also taking the steady grass blocks beneath him for granted.
Someone had to write those lines of code that put them there. Someone had to write the algorithms and fix the bugs and come up with the ideas. George had been within that code and in the least literal way, he had been within Dream in the same way and was still discovering and learning about the complexities of his innerworkings.
“When did you sleep last?” Sapnap asks, setting some ingredients on the counter. They’re breakfast ingredients, omelets probably. It’s noon.
Sapnap, to his credit, also seems worried. But that’s not uncharacteristic of him to be outwardly caring and worried. He shows his concern loudly because he’s loud in his appreciation for Dream.
Dream hesitates and his hesitation is enough time for George to scoff a laugh at the same time as Sapnap groans.
“No, look.” Dream tries to save himself. “I woke up around noon yesterday so…”
“Twenty four hours?” Sapnap asks, eyebrow raised. Normally George would dislike Sapnap’s mothering but right now, the concern isn’t aimed at him. George takes another sip of his lemonade jug as Sapnap berates Dream. “That’s not good, man.”
“Twenty four hours isn’t even that long,” Dream tries defend. “We’ve all done longer.”
“Not stressing like you are,” Sapnap points out, cracking some eggs into a bowl.
“Make me one,” George orders.
“No. Make your own. And you,” Sapnap says to Dream. “Go nap.”
Dream hums and also grabs something from the fridge. He sits down on one of the stools beside George, a little thing of strawberry yogurt in one hand. His other hand finds George’s thigh below the counter, out of Sapnap’s sight line. “Sap, could you grab me a spoon? You’re closer.”
Sapnap leaves his little omelet making station at the island to turn around and rummage through one of the cutlery drawers.
At the same time, while Sapnap’s back is turned, Dream leans towards George. “I’ll nap if you lie down with me,” he whispers into his ear.
George freezes, preparing to fight the oncoming instinct to pull his shoulders up and wince away from someone being that close to him, whispering into his ear. But it’s not a cringe that he has to fight, it’s a shiver, and not a necessarily unpleasant one either.
George shoves Dream away just as Sapnap turns around, spoon in hand. Dream snorts and thanks Sapnap for the spoon, digging into his yogurt.
It’s almost surprising that Dream hasn’t mentioned telling Sapnap yet. Even more surprising that he hasn’t just done it already. Now though, George realizes there’s a chance that Dream tells Sapnap and Sapnap gives away that everything is a bet. That wouldn’t be ideal, especially not when Dream now believes they’re in a real relationship.
So George calculates that once Dream finishes his yogurt he’ll leave the kitchen, maybe feed the cats before he does so but that shouldn’t take him longer than it’ll take Sapnap to make omelets for himself and maybe one for George (if he’s feeling particularly generous) which will leave George an opening to talk to him without Dream nearby.
He sips on his lemonade slowly as he watches the scenario play out just as he expected it too. Dream checks his phone after he’s done with his yogurt, throws it in the bin and heads for the stairs.
“Sapnap!” George hisses in a secretive whisper as if Dream could still possibly hear him in some way. “Guess what?”
Sapnap turns around from where he’s hovering over the stove. He gives George a dull, bored expression, as if he’s already prepared himself mentally to deal with whatever bullshit George is about to spew at him.
“What?”
“We’re dating!”
Sapnap barely manages to not drop the eggy spatula he’s holding. His mouth falls open. “What?”
George just nods, grinning. “See, I told you—”
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it! Holy shit! How did you—how did you get him to agree?”
George shrugs even though he knows how. He had known the entire time the bet was suggested that Dream’s preexisting feelings would make for an easy win for him. The fact that Dream didn’t know this was a bet in the first place made it extremely easy. Too easy, one might say.
“He just did,” George says, inspecting the lemonade nutrition label like it’s more interesting than Sapnap’s astonished expression. Secretly, he’s enjoying Sapnap’s shock and awe in something he had managed to pull off. “Now I’m dating him. It’s day one. Boom easy money.”
Sapnap looks over at the calender on the side of the fridge. “It’s May twenty first. No way you can make it until June twenty first.”
“Middle of June,” George quotes. “It’s w-itterally our month. Easy. Money.”
Sapnap shakes his head and turns back to his pan. “Nah dude, you’ll get annoyed with him before the middle of June even arrives. I give you a week max!”
“Bet.” He gets up to put the lemonade back where it belongs, sidling up beside Sapnap in a mocking, taunting way. “And when I win, I’m going to get you to make me breakfast every day for two weeks.”
“We’ll see, George. We’ll see.”
❮-❯
May 27th 2024 (Day 6)
Not surprisingly, not much about George’s daily life seems to change. They’re in a lull of content right now so there’s not much to do content wise besides filming a few videos, reviewing video edits, and occasionally looking over some lines of code. Most of Dream’s project is in the final stages as summer approaches (or at least, what George hopes to be the final stages. They’ve had a few setbacks) and there’s not much left for George to do.
For the most part he lazes around the house, a cat or two in his lap and Tiktok readily open for whenever the need to endlessly scroll nags at the back of his mind.
Dating Dream, unsurprisingly, changes hardly anything.
Well, maybe one thing.
“Dream, my arm is asleep and it’s starting to hurt.”
The bundle of grey and blue blankets that’s laying on the bed beside him wiggles and makes a grumbling sound but doesn’t move except for a piss poor attempt at sliding off George’s arm. It doesn’t work very well and Dream’s head, that is so expertly placed on top of George’s outstretched right arm just right to slowly cut off circulation to his hand, still remains where it continues to crush George’s forearm.
“Dream,” George warns. “I know you’re awake. Get off my arm.”
It’s almost ironic the way Dream, as a person, hardly dreams in the most literal version of the word. His struggle with sleep is an ongoing one. If he’s excited, he doesn’t sleep. If he’s nervous, he doesn’t sleep. If he’s stressed, he doesn’t sleep. If he’s missing George, he now downright refuses to sleep without him. It’s—more endearing than it should be.
If this is what Sapnap expects him to be annoyed with, he’s sorely mistaken.
While Dream’s awkward and hardly convenient sleep schedule that would probably lead him to failure in a structured nine to five was hardly orthodox, George found he didn’t exactly mind when Dream texted him at random, summoning him to one of the three beds they had begun to rotate between in the past few days.
This afternoon, it’s George’s bed.
“I don’t want to,” the bundle complains, only wiggling closer to George.
“I want to keep my arm.” George sets his phone on his chest, reaching over with his other arm to give Dream a shove. Normally, his weak push would hardly roll Dream half over, but Dream, the absolute drama queen, rolls like he’s been hit by a truck.
His dramatic efforts are not well thought out. He gets tangled in the blankets and rolls right over the side and off the bed. If it were his own bed, it wouldn’t be so bad considering how near to the ground his bed is. George’s is different. It’s higher. Dream hits the ground with a thud and a second later, a pained groan.
“Idiot,” George mutters, opening his phone again. Unempathetic? Sapnap might have a point with that one but the likelihood of Dream procuring an actual, life threatening injury from falling off George’s bed was highly unlikely.
Dream pops up over the edge of the mattress moments later, hair a ruffled mess and blankets slipping down his shoulders. His eyes are alight with something that looks like ingenuity, like he's come up with a new white board worthy idea, a potential future YouTube video or something just as amazing.
“We should go on a date!”
Oh. Well, that's something.
“A date?”
“Yeah!” Dream scrambles back onto the bed. He takes George's phone from his hands and George whines, reaching for it back with grabby hands. “No, we're brainstorming. It's brainstorming time.”
“Give it back!”
“Go on a date with me.”
“This feels coercive,” George grumbles, crossing his arms. “This is coercion.”
He's being stubborn and difficult, he knows he is, but sometime in the last few days he forgot all about how he was supposed to be focusing on keeping Dream convinced they were dating and instead leaned into the slight evolution of their friendship. He didn't fully mind the presence of Dream in his bed or spending his nights in Dream's. And he especially doesn't mind how Dream now doesn't hide how absolutely whipped he is. It's a good life being the apple slices of Dream's eye.
But, this has him thinking. He's six days into dating Dream, nearly a whole week, a whole twenty five percent done his bet with Sapnap. Maybe going on a date with Dream was a good way to make sure they were staying steady.
“Please, George.” Dream sticks his bottom lip out. “Please—”
“So needy,” George chides, reaching out. He's not sure what he's reaching out for, exactly. He was initially reaching for his phone sitting by Dream's thigh but then Dream leaned towards George's outstretched arms and well, George can't have him thinking he doesn't want him close.
Dream crawls into his arms like an oversized puppy, laying his upper half over George's waist and chest so George has to tilt his head down to look at him.
“Just one date,” Dream begs. “Just one.” His weight on top of George is oddly peaceful. Comforting in a way. It's not unpleasant.
“Just one?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you have in mind?”
Dream’s face lights up and again, a little tap at the back of George’s mind attempts to grab his attention. It’s like a little itch that won’t go away, that stirs to life every time Dream brightens up at the very idea of dating George. The feeling of that unsettling itch is quickly overshadowed by George’s desire to prove Sapnap wrong.
“Let me surprise you,” Dream begs. His one elbow digs into George’s ribs as he pushes himself upwards. “I’ll come up with something and it’ll be great.”
“Do you even have time for that?” George asks, aware of the large amount of stressors on Dream’s plate, even more so now that he sees how much they keep Dream awake at night, how much time in bed he spends working and not sleeping. “I know you’re busy.”
Dream shrugs. “I can make time for my boyfriend.”
There’s that smile again. That lovely, lovely smile that George hadn’t seen nearly enough of in the past few months. The smile that was supposed to be the entirety of Dream’s brand and one look at him this happy explained exactly why. George could spend a lifetime chasing that smile.
“Oh can you?” George taunts. “Should I make a reservation with your secretary? Call up your assistant?”
Dream laughs. “You’re an idiot.” He lays down completely on top of George, his head tucked under George’s chin. As close as he can get as possible. “ My idiot.”
“You’re stupid.”
Dream fumbles around for his own phone that slipped off the bed at some point during their cuddling, nudging George’s own phone back towards his thigh. “I have to go talk something over with Sapnap then.”
“About what?”
Dream smiles. “It’s a surprise.”
Dream leaves with no further explanation and George returns to scrolling on his phone, this time without a heavy weight pinning his one arm to the bed. He doesn’t have time to figure out what the strange ache in his chest is, seemingly brought on by Dream’s absence, before Sapnap is slipping quietly into his room, shutting the door behind him with a stunned look.
Sapnap’s eyes are wide, expression stricken like he’s seen a ghost.
“George, you didn’t…”
George looks up from his phone, irritated. Part of him had hoped the footsteps coming up the hallway would be Dream returning, not Stinknap.
“Didn’t what?”
“Didn’t—didn’t tell him! You didn’t tell him about the bet?”
George shrugs. “It didn’t come up. What did he tell you?”
Sapnap shuts his mouth for a moment, jaw shifting a little like he’s grinding his teeth together with how hard he has his jaw clenched.
“Are you fucking kidding me, George? Actually?”
“What?”
“Even from you this is…”
“Ludicrous?”
“Cruel!” Sapnap walks over and snatches one of George’s pillows out from under his head, whacking him in the face with it. “There’s no way you actually fucking did this.”
George grabs the pillow. “I told you we were dating.”
“I assumed you told him the details first!”
“I don’t know what the big deal is, it’s only a month.”
Sapnap glares. He glares so hard and so intensely with something that borderlines on real anger. The next thing he says lingers with George long after he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.
“That’s the problem, isn’t it, George? It’s only a month.”
❮-❯
May 28th 2024 (Day 7)
There are some days where George doesn’t do much of anything. Days where he closes himself in his office just to appear like he’s doing something. In the end, he is a large contributor to everything Dream Team related. With his skills, he’s not easily replaceable.
Even if Dream were to invest in someone else to do George’s jobs, that layered trust wouldn’t be there. Not the trust that came with years and years of working together, knowing one another. He’s certain even Sapnap trusts him a decent amount.
So even when there’s days that George lazes around, barely doing anything productive, he still sees himself as valuable.
One week into dating Dream and it’s one of his lazy days. A day to stay in sweatpants, watch Tiktok, lay around with Patches while Sapnap does whatever it is a Sapnap does and Dream locks himself in his office.
Except, that’s not what’s happening.
“Where’s Sapnap?” George asks, walking into the main living room. Dream, who’s crouched in the corner doing something with one of the living room lamps, jumps as if he’s been caught red handed stealing something. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, just—nothing.” Dream gives him an unconvincing smile, getting off the floor and walking over. “Patches got one of her toys stuck under the couch again.”
“And that requires fiddling with the lamp?”
“Yeah.”
George doesn’t believe that for a second but for Dream’s sake, he’ll let it fly. Besides, Dream wouldn’t be the only one keeping secrets. “Where’s Stinknap?” George asks again.
“Don’t know. Guess he went out?” Dream’s one hand slips to his waist when he nears, guiding George away from the lights and out of the living room. He seems to be avoiding the kitchen as well. “Could you look over one of the titan videos for me? I finished editing it but I want your opinion.”
Well, that’s strange. Normally Dream asks for his opinion during editing whenever George walks into his office and hovers. He doesn’t normally ask afterwards, especially not when George knows that one specific video has been done for weeks now and Dream’s just been delaying posting it in hopes he can stockpile edited videos and jumpstart his plan to regularly upload. It’s weird for him to ask weeks after it’s been finished.
George sees it for what it is when Dream leads him into his office, now by his hand. A diversion.
“I guess,” George grumbles. “I had plans.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. Important ones.”
Dream hums but George knows he sees right through him. If Dream hadn’t been blinded by happiness, he probably would’ve seen right through George asking him out too. It’s still a surprise that he hasn’t seen through this entire scheme.
“I need you for something later as well so don’t go anywhere.”
George scoffs. He’s sure he can manage not to disappear into thin air like Sapnap seems to have done. It’s probably nothing. He probably went out with the girls again.
“I’m a very busy man, Dream.” It’s practically a lie. George knows he’s important and valuable, but not nearly as busy as Dream.
Even so, Dream just smiles softly. “I know.” Before George can react or pull away (which wouldn’t have been very boyfriend of him) Dream leans down and gently presses his lips to George’s forehead. George’s breath seizes. He freezes, immediately locks up at the feeling of Dream’s lips on his skin.
Dream pulls away and his lips are gone from George’s skin just as fast as they had landed there. A feeling of warmth bursts in George’s chest like he’s been digging and hit a hot spring of water and now it’s overflowing, more and more and more until it’s covered him from head to toe and he must be drowning. He must be. What else could be preventing him from breathing?
“Was that okay?” Dream asks.
Fuck. They’ve been dating for a week and George immediately clams up at the first bit of romantic physical affection. That’s bad. That’s really bad.
But, when he goes to answer, he doesn’t feel like he can’t say no. He doesn’t feel like if he were to say no, it wouldn’t be okay or Dream would be offended or discouraged and see right through their fake relationship. No, he feels safe, still warm inside. It’s confusing actually.
“Yes.” It’s not a lie.
❮-❯
May 28th 2024 (Day 7)
Dream leaves him alone in the office for hours. George initially curls up in the office chair in front of the computer and watches the video start to finish. Then watches it again with the intention of coming back to Dream with some sort of praise for his work.
Two hours in and he’s bored but there’s no difference between rotting in his room and rotting in Dream’s office (which is arguably decorated nicer than his own room). Besides, Dream’s office has a bed and a fridge. There’s no Sapnap to bother and no other plans on his plate, save for whatever Dream needs him for. So he curls up in Dream’s bed on his phone, texting Dream every once in a while. Dream, for whatever reason, is taking suspiciously long to get back to his random messages.
Around hour three, Patches scratches at the door of Dream’s office and George gets up to let her in. He gently explains to her that her father isn’t in the office with him but she just sits all pretty, tail wrapped around herself and stares at George, stares as if she can see the phantom mark of Dream’s kiss on his forehead.
She curls up with George for an hour.
Hour four and George is getting hungry.
He sends a message to Dream complaining about it (as he always does whenever he’s slightly inconvenienced) and asks if Dream wants to add anything to his Doordash order. This time Dream responds immediately, nearly frantically, if George is being honest.
Do not order anything.
George, did you order already?
Don’t order.
Come downstairs.
George sighs because going downstairs and talking to Dream means delaying his Doordash order which means he’ll be hungry for longer. If it was Sapnap, he would’ve ignored him and ordered already. But it’s Dream, so it’s different, naturally. He gets up and Patches hops off the bed with him.
Dream meets him, strangely, at the top of the stairs. He’s wearing a button up shirt that isn’t too formal but still isn’t something casual that he would normally wear around the house which leaves George wondering if Dream had a meeting at the merch warehouse or some other fancy thing that he didn’t know about.
“You lasted longer in there than I thought you would,” Dream says when George gets closer.
“That’s what your mum—”
“George,” Dream interrupts, but he’s smiling, somehow endeared by George’s nonsense. He leads George down the stairs like there’s something exciting waiting for him at the bottom. Unfortunately, George is pretty sure it’s not his Doordash order that he’s yet to place.
Instead, the lights in the living room and kitchen are brought down low (a feature George didn’t even know they had) and the T.V in the living room is playing some sort of quiet restaurant ambience. George gives it a quizzical look before turning to Dream.
“I know it’s kind of hard for us to actually go out,” Dream says, leading him to the same fateful kitchen this whole bet had started in. Twenty-five percent, George reminds himself when he sees what Dream has laid out and the itch that tells him maybe Sapnap is right about this being cruel scratches at him like Patches scratching at Dream’s office door, begging to be let in. Maybe this is his conscience, begging him to listen. “So I thought I’d make us dinner.”
George knew that going on a date with Dream was going to be interesting . But he thought he’d have time to mentally prepare a little, maybe write out a script just in case Dream tried to do or say anything crazy. At least enough preparation to change out of sweatpants.
“I feel a little underdressed.” He tries to use a teasing tone but Dream sees right through it. Of course he does because Dream sees through everything George related. Eventually he’ll see through this relationship too. It’s only a matter of time before George slips up.
“Not for me,” Dream says. “You’re perfectly dressed.”
When George had pictured going on a date with Dream, this is not what he had in mind. He was more picturing a public restaurant or maybe a trip to somewhere else public where it couldn’t feel too intimate because of the potential eyes around but Dream seems to have planned around that.
When he had pictured going on a date with Dream in public, it felt less official than this feels. Somehow, going on a ‘date’ in their own home where Dream had put in more work than he would ever put in for just a normal take out dinner between the two of them, really makes this feel official.
For a reason George can’t name, this makes him nervous.
He’s not nervous because he’s worried he’ll accidentally ruin the bet and Dream will find out and break up with him before the four weeks are over. That’s the reason he should be nervous but it’s not that.
His nerves are warm, jittery ones. Like he’s embarrassed or worried about embarrassing himself, like he cares about what Dream thinks of him and his appearance. Like butterflies, like nervous excitement.
Like he’s on a real date.
“Sit,” Dream orders, guiding him to a spot at the counter.
Besides from the fact that they’re eating at the kitchen island, Dream’s set it up like a proper, fancy dinner table. There’s two plates and wine glasses that George didn’t even know they owned or had anywhere in the house. A vase with flowers that George can actually see the colors of and a bottle of wine sitting next to them. None of this had been here four hours ago when Dream had ushered him upstairs and away from the living room.
Oh, George realizes. “This is what you were doing with the lamps?”
“Our kitchen is too bright, it’s not romantic.” Dream does have a point. Their main kitchen is almost always bright and mostly light, neutral tones. The dimmed lighting gives the space more of a warm glow. It’s nice. The warmth of it almost feels similar to the warm feeling of Dream’s kiss.
Dream pours the wine while George sits on an island stool in a wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants and nearly laughs at the absurdity of this. Instead he just smiles because yes, this is one of Dream’s sillier ideas. Millionaire Dream who could’ve rented out a restaurant completely to ensure their privacy but chose to stay home with George instead. It’s silly but kind of sweet.
“And you sent Sapnap away too?” George asks. That must’ve been why Sapnap came running into his room yesterday. Dream must’ve come to him all excited about the date he was planning and all but told Sapnap he didn’t know about the bet.
“Just for the night. He’ll be back in the morning,” Dream says. He must see the way George raises an eyebrow because he hurries to correct himself. “Just so we could have dinner together uninterrupted. No—weird reasons.”
“No weird reasons? I was looking forward to weird reasons.” George’s words have Dream opening his mouth but no words come out. His mind appears to blank as he stumbles to come up with something to say until George giggles and ends the bit. “I’m kidding, Dream.”
Dream’s smile returns. “You’re an idiot.”
When Dream turns around to take something out of the oven, George’s mind turns on him.
In three weeks George was supposed to break up with Dream but the longer he lets this go on the less sure he is that that’s going to go over well at all. At first he had been sure that Dream would come out the other side of this bet relatively unharmed but now, looking at the dinner Dream had clearly put thought and heart into, George is starting to doubt.
What makes everything worse is Dream’s amazing at this. He’s amazing at planning romantic things and knowing exactly what to say to make George feel comfortable. He’s amazing at putting his mind into learning how to do new things like cooking an elaborate meal for George in only four hours and he’s amazing at being a boyfriend in general.
Was George stealing this from someone? Was there someone out there who was perfect for Dream but George was stealing their spot all to win a stupid bet with his stupid best friend? Even his stupid best friend who had known Dream for just as long, even longer actually, thought this was a terrible idea.
George might be starting to agree with him.
Dream’s food is delicious. He asks multiple times if it’s okay, if it tastes right. It’s both the best and worst thing George has ever eaten. It’s delicious but it fails to fill the empty pit in his stomach when he thinks about what’s going to happen in three weeks when the month of dating Dream comes to an end.
“So,” Dream says when their last conversation comes to an end. “I told Sapnap about us yesterday. I should’ve asked but when I was trying to get him out of the house he wanted to know why and wouldn’t drop it.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” George says, pushing his food around his plate while he talks. “I already told him a couple days ago anyway.”
“Really?” Dream tilts his head. “He looked surprised.”
George nearly chokes. Surprised that you think this is real, maybe.
“Thank you for this,” Dream says when George stays silent. “I know this isn’t really your thing. We don’t have to do this again any time soon. I just—I thought it would feel more real if we actually went on a date.”
For a moment, George’s heart stops. Does Dream know this isn’t real? Did Sapnap tell him? Why would Sapnap tell Dream only to come yell at George for lying to him?
“It doesn’t feel real?” George asks, heart in his throat.
“Not really—but it’s not anything you’re doing wrong!” Dream adds quickly. “I’ve just wanted this for so long and I didn’t want you to feel like I was pushing you to feel something you didn’t or feel guilty that you didn’t share my feelings. Now it just doesn’t feel real that you do because I’ve had time to convince myself you don’t.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry,” Dream says timidly. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”
George takes a deep breath, laughing a little, relieved. “You didn’t, Dream.” He thinks for a moment, looking for the right thing to say, something comforting or something to build Dream up like a good partner would. “You know you’re allowed to ask for reassurance, right?”
Dream clicks his fork against his plate. “Am I?”
“Yes.” George swallows. He doesn’t remember the last time he put this much effort into really getting down in the mud and being genuine with someone, attempting to comfort them without making jokes or jabs to make light of the situation. Dream deserves better than that. Even just for a month. “If you need—whatever you need. That’s what I’m here for.”
Technically, nothing he has said tonight has been a lie but he’s not sure he would’ve said that to Dream in a regular, non-romantic setting. He would’ve thought it but never would have gathered the confidence to say it.
Dream looks at him like he’s hung the stars, like he is the stars and the universe and all the galaxies combined. “Thank you, George,” he says.
After dinner, they bicker over who gets to choose dessert like an old married couple would.
In the end, George wins authority and ultimately dictatorship over what they’re having for dessert. Dream didn’t have time to make a dessert dish before George nearly ordered himself dinner so it’s George who gets to choose and order dessert while Dream sets up something on the T.V in the living room.
Somehow this ends with them on the couch, shoulders and thighs touching, while George digs into what appears to be a triple chocolate attempt at a lava cake and a movie playing on the T.V that Dream picked while George ordered.
George holds out the styrofoam container to Dream as if to offer him some while already knowing the answer.
“Too sweet,” Dream says with a wrinkled up nose. “What is it anyway? It looks like they attempted to drown a brownie in liquid brownie.”
“Lava cake.” George holds out the plastic fork with a little cake on the end. “Try.”
“No thank you,” Dream denies again and fine, George won't push but he does make a very exaggerated display of how amazing his next bite is, closing his eyes and happily humming like this is the best damn brownie lava cake the world has to offer and not from some random Orlando restaurant that just happened to have a dessert that sounded good to George.
When he opens his eyes and licks his lips before looking over at Dream, Dream's not watching the movie. Not even close. He's staring at George.
“Do I have some on my face?” He sets the take out box down on the coffee table to reach for a napkin. He's not an animal and this is something of a date after all. He can afford to have some manners.
“George?”
He wipes his mouth. “Is it gone?”
“George,” Dream says again, weaker. George doesn't know if he's ever heard Dream speak like that, like someone's wound a tight fist around his vocal cords, around his lungs, like he has something stuck in his chest. “You are—so beautiful.”
Oh. Huh.
“So there's nothing on my face?”
Dream's lips break into a grin and he shakes his head in disbelief before reaching forward to gently take the napkin from George's hand. “Of course that wouldn't fluster you, what with all this pretty privilege?” He gently dabs at the corner of George's lips. “Bet you get told that all the time.”
“Not by you,” George says before he can stop himself. “You should tell me more.”
“Should I?”
George eagerly nods while Dream pulls his hand away, smiling brighter now.
“I'll tell you,” Dream says. It's a promise because it sounds like one when Dream says it, and for George, that's enough. “I'll tell you all the time. I'll tell you now, and I'll tell you when we're old and I'll mean it every minute, even when I haven't said it yet, I'll be thinking it.”
Something about his words should trip George up. Something about Dream talking about them when they’re old. Something about him making plans for a future George knows will never come to pass but George isn’t thinking about the consequences of Dream’s words. He’s not thinking about the consequences of his own actions either.
The cushions of the couch are unstable beneath him, shifting tectonic plates as he inches ever closer to Dream. He’s forgotten about the fake lava cake. He’s forgotten about Sapnap and the stupid bet. He’s forgotten about it all.
There’s only Dream.
The cushions dip and George’s knee hits Dream’s thigh. The dim lighting has him making clumsy movements, fumbling for Dream.
Dream whispers his name again, not a question, not even a summoning. It’s closer to a plea.
George didn’t intend for this. He didn’t scheme this, didn’t write the script that explains the tugging in his chest, the gravitational pull that pulls him into Dream’s lap. He couldn’t have plotted this, wouldn’t have dared. He’s not drunk, not even tispy, completely lucid. He knows what he’s doing when he reaches out to hold Dream’s face between his palms, holding the whole damn world in his hands.
Dream inhales. It’s now that George notices Dream’s hands dancing over his waist. He doesn’t know when they got there. He doesn’t care.
The movie playing in the background flashes light across Dream’s face. Dream’s lips are slightly parted. He’s hanging on George’s every move.
“George,” Dream says again. It’s hardly loud enough to be a whisper, hardly mouthed. George only knows it’s been said because he’s studying Dream’s lips.
“Yes.”
And that’s all that was needed.
George isn’t sure, in the moment that it happens, who initiates. He’ll be thinking about it later, in bed with Dream’s head on his chest, wondering who exactly it was who leaned in first. He’ll realize with crushing horror that it was him who leaned in first, who leaned in the most to press his lips to Dream’s and Dream will be fast asleep on his chest, ever peacefully unaware of George's panic.
But right now, it’s just them, with George’s mind only on Dream, on the way he kisses and the feel of his lips. On the softness of them and the way Dream kisses him as if he’s been waiting all of his life to do so.
The kiss is lovely but later George will think back on their shared moment with dread, knowing it too, was laced with deceit.