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I know you’re dangerous.
These were the first words that rose to the surface of George’s mind as he stood facing the enormous swirling pool of lava surrounding the island cell. Despite the intense heat pouring through the massive room, George fought a shiver.
Unable to tear his eyes away from the cell, he listened to the controlled footsteps on heavy stone as Sam left without a word to raise the bridge. Sam hadn’t been much of a comforting presence through the maze of the prison and the required procedures, but George felt suddenly and eerily alone. He wasn’t alone, really.
Dream.
George felt the name hanging in space, hanging on his own lips, long before he made out the outline of his form behind the iron bars. Dream was standing there, staring across the nearly impenetrable space between them from behind the mask. George couldn’t look away.
It was too quiet, despite the sizzling and popping of the smoldering lava. George didn’t speak—it felt wrong to break the silence just yet.
Sharp mechanical whirrs pierced the air, and a small metal platform rose from the lava. George hastily stepped onto the platform and began to walk with only slightly stumbling steps, making a show of confidence as the platform cut across the churning lava like it was nothing. A bright ember flicked up to the cuff of George’s pants, and he abruptly shook it off.
He cautiously stepped off the platform and found himself staring straight at the mask. He might as well have been staring at the dark eyes behind it; he knew Dream’s eyes were on him. There was an intensity to the moment that George hadn’t expected. It was too much. He turned away for a moment, took a deep breath, and composed himself.
This felt momentous. Like a pivot point in the story of their lives. George had been a part of a few of those before. He thought briefly of his burning home, a country in the sky, harsh words and confrontation.
He ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted his glasses, unsure of how to do this.
Truthfully, he had no idea what to feel anymore. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to show his conflicted emotions to Dream. George wished someone else could have done this. But on some level, he knew why it had to be him.
Sapnap had refused to come. He felt betrayed, and George thought rightfully so, and hadn’t pressed him.
It was different for George. It was different because George had been king, appointed and dethroned by Dream. George had gained and lost the most, at least in terms of power or material things. But it seemed to George that Sapnap felt vividly a much greater loss; that of their friend.
George wasn’t sure if he had lost Dream, in all honesty. It didn’t seem like cutting him off was necessary. At least, not now. George felt he understood something Sapnap never had, even in the early days.
I know you’re dangerous.
Always have.
George turned to face Dream. The metal bars fell away with a loud ch-chunk and the wall of lava reappeared behind George, causing him to take a few quick and necessary steps forward. As soon as the lava covered the entrance, Dream unhooked his mask and tossed it onto the bed.
George looked him over, and felt Dream’s eyes likewise on himself. Dream was wearing a black shirt and pants, signature green hoodie probably long abandoned due to the excessive heat. George noted the long tears and rips on Dream’s pants and the fraying of his shirt. So, they hadn’t even given him an extra change of clothes.
It had only been a few days since Dream had been captured according to Sam. George had been gone when it happened. His eyes swept carefully over the cuts on Dream’s arms and he wondered if Dream was treating his wounds—if he had what he needed to heal himself. He wanted to ask, but didn’t. His eyes moved to Dream’s face, and he noticed that his lips were chapped. His skin must be very dry from the heat. Were they giving him enough water?
Evidently deciding that they’d had enough sizing-each-other-up time, Dream coughed, then spoke.
“Thank you for coming to visit me.”
“No,” George said, pressing right away. Dream knew he wasn’t here for this. George caught his eyes with a pointed look.
“Ok. What do you want to know?” Dream boosted himself up and sat on top of the chest in the corner.
George remained standing, but leaned against the warm obsidian wall and crossed his arms.
“Should I be on your side?”
“I don’t know. Are you?” Dream looked up honestly.
George decided it was necessary to share at least a little bit.
“I don’t know,” he confessed. He felt his brow crease.
Dream looked at him for a second, and George read mild surprise on his features.
“I didn’t expect you to come here without having made your mind up,” and then, slightly vulnerable, “I didn’t expect the side I’m on would be an option for you.”
“Well, I’m here to figure that out.” George kept his feet planted and his back straight, firm, though part of him wanted to let down his guard, to pace around the room and talk this all out, to explain his confusion and reservations, to put it all out in the open.
But this was still a delicate dance, and George couldn’t just treat Dream like the friend he had known from back when this all began. He pushed his glasses back up onto his nose. This was a time for careful moves.
Dream seemed to take in his body language with a glance.
“Do you want to see my clock?” Dream said, and jumped down from the chest.
This abrupt non sequitur and turn in conversation surprised George, but almost instantly dispelled the tension in the air, like letting out a deep breath. Suddenly, things were lighthearted. He was visiting a friend.
“Sure.”
Dream enthusiastically showed George his clock, and each of the items in the room. George watched with a small smile, laughing easily at Dream’s light jokes and bouncing around the room. They fell into an easy rhythm, and soon they were just talking. George found himself lounging on the bed, one arm off the edge and one leg up on the wall, listening to Dream talk. He was a bit heat drowsy and comfortable.
“So, when Tommy came to visit me, he decided that I should write, like, apologies and sort of reparations in these books. Like, ‘Why Tommyinnit is The Best,” and stuff”.
“You should write one about why I’m the best,” George lazily suggested from his spot on the bed.
George couldn’t see him fully from his positioning, but he listened as Dream laughed heartily, and he felt a laugh bubbling in his own chest. George leaned forward to get a better view. Dream looked so beautifully crazy when he laughed, and he loved it. He simply let himself watch as his friend smacked the book podium with his fist and wheeze. A smile fell so easily on George’s face, and melted into something soft.
Dream looked up and found his eyes, and then Dream’s face was getting redder by the moment, all the way to the tips of his ears. George couldn’t help but pull his glasses off and move to investigate his face, worried that he wasn’t getting enough oxygen, or that the heat was getting to him. His own heat drowsiness fell away instantly.
“George, no—stop, what are you doing?” Dream sputtered in between breaths of air from laughing, batting away George’s hands, which were determinedly trying to feel Dream’s forehead.
“Your face is very red, Dream. Like, very red. Do you have enough water? Do you have cold water?”
“No, it’s fine, I’m fine-“
“It’s just getting worse, ohmygod, I know it’s hot in here, do you think that’s it?” George lingered in Dream’s personal space and hovered his hands over Dream’s still reddening face, brows furrowed, trying to figure out what was wrong.
“George! I’m fine,” Dream turned away and moved to the other side of the cell to exaggeratedly pour himself some water and slowly sit on the bed.
George rolled his eyes, but felt better when it became clear that Dream was fine. After finishing his water, Dream moved so he was sitting criss-crossed on his bed and gave a goofy smile.
“So, I heard you had a build battle with Quackity.”
“Of course, and I won!”
“Did you really?” Dream gave a challenging smile.
“Dream. What do you think?” George crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, looking down at Dream.
Dream tilted his head up like he was basking in the sun, eyes closed, and said,
“I think you’re amazing in a lot of ways. But I don’t think you’re a very good builder.”
“I’m a good builder! I totally beat Quackity! I won, I won!” George insisted as Dream laughed.
“I’ve seen your house, George. Well, I did see it,” Dream said.
George briefly thought about the mushroom cottage. Dream had offered something like justice in defense of George’s destroyed house. It had been surreal. George had felt something striking and strong then, and he still wasn’t entirely sure what it was. He thought it might be powerful— Dream was there, one of the most powerful in the world, defending him , building an obsidian wall around a whole nation. Just for him. George also considered that this feeling could be intimidation; maybe he was in awe and a little bit afraid of how far his friend would go (just for him). The third option he considered was that he was feeling. He didn’t read into this too much.
“I won. I beat Quackity.” George complained.
“I bet he, I bet he beat you and you refused to admit it,” Dream wheezed.
“I did not! That did not happen!” George insisted. Dream continued to laugh, happy in his poking at George’s ego. George rolled his eyes, and then picked up a different thread of conversation.
“So, you think I’m amazing in a lot of ways,” he said, smugly.
“Well, I mean, you are amazing. I don’t know if I would say a LOT of ways, but yeah. Yeah.” Dream backtracked, not embarrassed, but clearly caught in his own head.
“But you did say a lot of ways.”
“Well, I mean—“
“Tell me, Dream, in what ways am I amazing?” George teased with a lilt to his voice.
Dream looked up, and seemed to slide from explanations and justifications to something else. His face shifted to something warmer—George couldn’t tell if it was something comforting, or something fiery. It seemed to offer a question: ‘Are we doing this?’
“Tell me,” George pushed, joking tone abandoned only slightly.
Dream looked away, casually, and uncrossed his legs so that they were hanging off the side of the bed.
“You know you’re amazing, George.”
“Dream.”
“You want me to tell you? Let me see, you’re a good friend, you’re skilled at fighting, and collecting resources, you’re funny, you’re attractive—uh, you have and attractive personality, you’re good at getting along with people, you stay out of trouble and don’t cause problems—I mean, that’s why I chose you to be king in the first place,” Dream breathed.
George didn’t know what to say about the kingship. They were heading back towards rocky waters. He looked into Dream’s eyes, looking for hidden meanings, and saw only truth, and the warmth.
“Thank you, Dream.”
George hadn’t noticed when they’d gotten so close. Dream was leaning up to him, and he was leaning down towards Dream.
“You’re welcome, George.”
They were probably too far apart, still, but George swore he felt the air from Dream’s lips as he spoke. Dream’s pupils crackled with reflections of lava.
“It’s so hot in here.”
“Yeah,” Dream breathed, voice low and close.
“Dream,” George started, and watched as Dream’s pupils dilated slightly as he said his name. “Are you a villain?”
Dream seemed to fight a smile, then consider seriously.
“I can’t answer that.”
“Are you the villain?” George moved so that he was standing right in front of Dream, who was still looking up at him.
“What do you think?” His face read honesty.
“Yes,” George took a step closer, “but not to me,” he breathed, “Why?”
Dream didn’t say anything, just stared at him for a moment. George thought he looked as if he was in awe.
And then he was surging up, right into George’s space, inches away, seconds, really, hands hovering next to his face then settling to grip the sides of his shoulders. Dream looked straight into his eyes, bright and bold and sure and unsure all at once. He offered a single question.
“Please?”
George let a ‘yes’ fall from his mouth, and watched Dream’s face for the split second where it sunk in, and he looked mind blown. George savored it. And then, Dream’s hands found his face and Dream was kissing George, and George was kissing Dream, and they were kissing, and it was intent and urgent and shameless. George’s back fell against the obsidian wall and his hands came up to grasp at Dream’s waist.
George felt much too hot, but he didn’t want to stop. Dream was too much in the best way, and George let his complicated feelings tie themselves together into one single truth that was simultaneously shocking and not surprising at all.
I know you’re dangerous,
And I’m okay with that.
They kissed each other breathless, stopping for only a few seconds before mutually leaning back in each time. George pulled at Dream’s shirt, pulled him in even closer, and breathed him in.
Dream’s hold on his face softened, and his fingertips glanced across George’s cheek in a surprisingly gentle gesture. His hands came to rest at the hair on the back of George’s neck, which he slowly ran through his fingers as he carefully leaned back and they pulled apart.
He looked deeply into George’s eyes, clearly trying to read him, and George couldn’t help but smile.
“I think I’ll be on your side,” George said plainly.
Dream looked full of emotions, but he seemed to surprise himself with a laugh, and quickly settled into it. George was still holding him close, and felt his shoulders relax.
“Oh, you only want to be on my side because I’m a good kisser?” he smiled cheekily.
“You are a good kisser, but no, I want to be on whatever side you’re on,” George looked into his eyes fervently.
“Oh,” Dream said, smiling softly.
George pulled him into a hug to show he meant it. They stood like that for awhile, just enjoying each other’s company. George thought he could get used to this.
Dream hooked his chin over George’s shoulder, and must have looked at the far wall.
“You know, I didn’t want to tell Tommy this, but I did fill some of the books already,” he mumbled, as if he was divulging a secret.
“Oh yeah?” George smiled, confused but entertained.
“Yeah. I wrote some stuff, uhm, about you.”
“Oh really?” George rocked them back and forth gently.
“Yeah,” Dream said, squeezing George a little.
George felt sudden butterflies in his chest. He felt giddy, actually giddy.
“I’ll have to give them a read sometime,” he smiled into the fabric of Dream’s shirt.
“Ugh, kinda embarrassing,” Dream mumbled into his hair. George laughed.
Eventually, they separated, and sat on Dream’s bed, talking about everything and nothing.
“Oh by the way, Dream, I wanted to ask,” George said, “Are you working out here?”
“Yeah,” Dream said honestly, unsure of where this was going.
George set his hand on his bicep, “What, are you trying to get a hot prison body?”
Dream flustered and lost his mind laughing simultaneously, which was an interesting scene to watch.
“‘Cause, I mean, I think it’s working,” George continued, just to start Dream laughing again.
“GEORGE!” he shouted, and George laughed.
They settled into a rhythm, hands together on the mattress as they talked easily, and George began to feel secure.
Everything felt so clear now. George cared for Dream, and he understood Dream, and didn’t fear him. George felt strong with Dream on his side, and wanted very much to be by his side. They would influence each other to good. It all made sense. Forget the past, but undo the wrongs; the future was theirs.
On a whim, George glanced over at Dream to see he looked to be deep in thought. He also looked troubled.
“Dream. What’s up.”
“George,” Dream started seriously, then took a moment. George waited patiently. “I’m not supposed to have attachments,” he held up their clasped hands ruefully, “I—can’t.”
“Dream.” George made sure he was looking at him, “You already do. You always have.”
“I can’t, I can’t have weaknesses—“
“Everyone has weaknesses. Even you.”
Dream still looked unconvinced.
“You say you don’t have attachments,” George said looking at the obsidian floor and trying to work out how to say this, “But don’t you see? You’ve always been attached. To me.” He looked up to meet Dream’s lightly flushed face. “We’ve always been attached.”
“Oh. I think you’re right.” Dream’s eyes fell to their hands again, and he carefully rubbed a thumb over George’s knuckles.
“I know you. And I think you know me, too. If you don’t want to be with me, then I’ll go. But if you want me to come back tomorrow,” George looked up with a steely gaze, “I will.”
Dream breathed deeply, and tightened his grip on George’s hand.
“I do want you. To come back.”
“Good.” George leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Dream’s lips. “I should probably go soon.”
“Noooooooooo,” Dream said, stretching out like a cat and laying across George’s lap, presumably so he wouldn’t be able to get up.
“It’ll be more special when I come back tomorrow if you get to miss me,” George said.
“Noooooo, I want you to be here!”
“I’m glad.” He pulled Dream up into a hug. “I’m glad you want me here.” It meant more than that.
George stood up and walked towards the wall of lava from which he entered, fingertips dwindling to touch Dream’s.
“I’ll bring you some new clothes tomorrow. And some cold water.”
“How on earth are you gonna do that?”
George thought of the many security precautions he had gone through to enter the prison.
“I’ll find a way.” George’s eyes shone. Dream reeled him in by the hand and pulled him into a kiss. This one was slow, and sweet, and loving. They lingered in it, unwilling to pull apart, but eventually, that’s what they did.
George gave Dream a quick kiss, and stepped over the line. The iron bars rose, and the lava slowly began to recede. George gave Dream’s hand a squeeze, then stepped onto the small platform and made his way back across the lava. As he went through various security procedures, he thought of Dream, and smiled.
I know everyone sees you as dangerous, the villain, someone to hate, but you’re more than that. I’ll be on your side.