Chapter Text
“Your boyfriend’s here.”
“What?” Dream looks up sharply from the coffee he's making, nearly spilling it all over his hand. The door to the coffee shop is open, a familiar brunette figure just stepping inside and unwinding the scarf from around his neck.
“Fuck off,” Dream shoots back at Sapnap, who just grins at him, and goes back to making the coffee.
When he next glances over, George has situated himself at the corner booth he always, somehow, inexplicably, manages to get whenever he's in the coffee shop. Dream doesn't know how he does it; it can be the busiest point of the day, a queue out of the door and tables packed with people — then George walks in and miraculously there's his booth free.
Dream gets to work on his coffee order.
When George makes his way to the counter, Dream’s just finishing off the stylistic love heart he’s made in the foam. He grins as he puts the mug down and pushes it across the counter to George. “Just for you, babe.”
“Oh my God, Dream!” George hisses. The three girls behind him in the line look curiously in his direction. They spot the heart immediately; their tittering laughter mixes with Dream's wheezes.
George glares at him as he gets his phone out to pay.
Dream waves him off. “On the house.”
George pauses, phone held over the card machine. “Really?”
“Yeah. My treat.” Dream had seen on twitter earlier that day that George was having a rough day, something to do with an early-morning lecture and a string of broken code that just wouldn’t fix itself.
A slow smile dawns on George’s face. “Thanks.” He puts his phone away and curls his hands around the mug.
Dream bites back the urge to say ‘any time’ which, whilst it’s true (he loves treating his friends whenever he can) will only give more fuel to Sapnap who, having just finished an order for another customer, immediately zones in on them.
“Dream,” he whines. “Why do you never give me free drinks?”
“You work here. You can make yourself free drinks.”
“But it’s not the same.”
Sapnap reaches for George’s drink, attempting to steal it. George immediately pulls the mug in close to his body, somehow managing not to spill it all over himself, though the heart goes a little wobbly. Then, very purposefully, with a grin intended to irritate, takes a long drink.
“Mmm,” he says. “Free coffee. It’s good.”
Sapnap scowls. “Bet it’s not as good as your mom’s—”
“Oh my god,” says Dream, somehow resisting the urge to throw his arms up in frustration as Sapnap and George immediately get into it, trading insults back and forth. Why are they like this.
He leaves them to it as he serves the three girls behind George, making easy conversation with them despite his friends bickering right behind him.
Eventually, George and Sapnap get bored, and George makes his way back over to his booth with his coffee.
“Oh, you’re going to do some actual work now?” Dream asks as Sapnap, as he returns to the coffee machine. “Got over your little jealous tantrum?”
“Shut up."
“Do you feel unloved?” Dream asks, “Do you want more attention, is that it?” He throws his arm around Sapnap, attempting to pull him in close and nuzzle into the side of his neck as Sapnap wrestles with him. Dream murmurs every stupid epithet he can think of into his skin, confident in Sapnap being so short he can't throw him off.
“Dream!” Sapnap moans, close to kicking the floor in frustration. “Stooop!”
Dream relents, laughing, and lets Sapnap shove him away. Sapnap grumbles to himself and attempts to straighten out his shirt, glancing over in George’s direction. Dream follows his gaze and spots Karl and Alex, who must have come in when he wasn’t looking. The two of them are sitting with George, laughing and joking about something. Karl's hair is getting long, he keeps having to brush it out of his eyes. Alex is still stubbornly wearing his beanie, refusing to take it off even indoors. Sapnap's looking straight at Karl.
Dream rolls his eyes and checks Sapnap with his shoulder. Sapnap startles, then checks him back, acting like he's not flustered at all, and they get back to work.
Occasionally throughout his shift, Dream looks over in the direction of his friends when he hears various explosions of laughter. George catches his eyes a few times, grinning back at him. It’s nice.
***
“Here, Dream!” Karl’s voice calls from across the coffee shop, some time later. “What do you think?”
Dream flips the cloth he was using to wipe down the counter onto his shoulder and makes his way over. George is slumped down fully in his seat, hands covering his face. When Dream arrives, he makes some sort of strangled noise in the back of his throat, muffled behind them like he's trying not to scream.
“Here,” says Karl, shoving George’s phone in his face.
Dream drags his gaze away from George to look down at the phone screen. It takes a minute for him to figure out what he's seeing.
It's a dating profile. For George.
“Would you date George?” asks Karl.
“What,” says Dream. He looks from the phone screen back to George, who is still hiding behind his hands, apparently making a concerted effort not to believe in object permanence. Dream clears his throat, awkward. “Uh, well—”
Karl rolls his eyes. “You're allowed to say the homies are hot, Dream.”
Dream dodges. “What's this even for?”
Alex rolls his eyes and reaches out to snatch the phone from Karl. “It's a dating app, idiot. You know, for us mere mortals who don't have girls leaving their phone numbers on the back of receipts for us every day—”
“That was one time!”
“Okay, on receipts and take-out coffee cups,” Alex snipes back, which, well, Dream can’t really argue with that. It has happened more than once.
“And we're doing it for George because he’s never been on one before,” Karl adds, throwing an arm around George’s shoulders to pull him in close. The tips of George’s ears are turning pink.
Dream blinks.
“Man's never been on a date before,” Alex announces loudly, letting Dream, the table behind them, and just about everyone in the coffee shop know. “What a loser.”
Dream turns to George, surprised. “Really?”
Slowly, George’s fingers separate so he can peer through them at Dream. His cheeks are pink now too. He doesn't say anything, but the look in his eyes alone is enough.
“Huh,” says Dream.
“I mean, I've kissed people,” George says defensively, lowering his hands, “And fooled around at parties and whatever. They've just…”
“Never been worth more?”
“No!” George says, as Alex snorts and Karl laughs, both immediately jumping on the hit it and quit it jokes. “Shut up,” he hisses at them, “That's not—”
“It's fine,” Dream attempts to reassure him, barely holding back his own laughter as he holds his hands up, placating. “You can say you’re a heartbreaker who only does one night stands, George.”
“—just not the one,” George finishes, voice pitching quiet.
Dream turns his head sharply, but George is looking down at the table, not at him.
“Anyway,” says Karl, “We figured we'd help a bro out. Hence, the dating profile.”
“It's not that easy though,” Alex says, “What can we even put for George to get people to date him? Doesn't like going out in the sun, hasn't cut his hair in forever, acts like a giant man-child…”
Dream scoffs. “George is smart.”
Alex snorts. “Yeah right. Smart as in, good at getting people to do things for him." He ignores the outraged ‘hey!’ from George. “Oh! How do you spell privilege? We should put that in, like yeah, he's pretty but—”
“George is handsome, yeah," says Dream, "But he's also clever." Being good-looking is just one tiny part of what makes George, George.
Dream can feel himself starting to grow annoyed.
George groans and puts his head in his hands again. Dream ignores his muffled ‘Dream, stop’ as he continues, “And he's funny, and a great friend and, and—”
Alex is merciless: “Whiny and annoying and—”
“Shut up,” Dream says. “That's not—” he lets out a frustrated noise. “Fuck it, fine. Fine. Give it here.” He takes the phone from Alex’s laughing grip as Karl says something suggestive on his other side. Dream ignores him, unlocking George’s phone and bringing up the dating app. “You're both idiots.”
He goes to work furiously, deleting everything they've done so far and starting again from scratch.
He nudges George in the side with his elbow to get him to shift up and make room for him in the booth, then Dream slides in to sit next to him, attention focused on George's phone.
The photos are the most important part, he thinks, as he opens up George’s Instagram and begins scrolling. He's got to look good, attractive enough to get people’s attention but not so good that they think he's a catfish. Dream glances up from the phone at George - who has rallied to bicker with Alex about something dumb - and thinks, not hard. George has always been pretty, so there's lots of photos to choose from.
The problem is: George likes to take the worst selfies of himself. His photos of other people? Fine. Photos other people take of him? Great. Photos of himself? Taken at the most awkward angles in the most awful lightening, half the time not even showing his full face. Almost like George doesn't want to take it too seriously because that would mean he cares about something.
With a sigh, Dream takes out his own phone and begins scrolling through the photos he has of George.
Creating a good profile takes time: he loses himself in finding the right photos and then the right words to go along with it. He speaks only once to say, “Guys, yeah?” to George when setting the access for who can message him.
“Hell yeah,” says Karl, reaching over to fistbump him.
Dream glances to George for confirmation. George nods, once, then goes back to his conversation with Alex. Dream always figured he was, but it's good to get confirmation. He's still working out where he himself lies, probably closer to bi on the spectrum, but most of the time it's just about personality, who he clicks with the most.
Dream goes back to making the profile.
“Here,” he says finally, resurfacing from his hyper focus. He checks the time on the screen, realises 20 whole minutes have passed.
Karl blinks, interrupted mid-sentence, and then his gaze drops to the phone Dream is holding up. “Oh,” he says, grin dawning, and reaches for it.
George gets to it first, his hand darting out and grabbing his phone from Dream’s grip. There's silence from the table as he reads the bio Dream created for him and swipes through the photos.
Dream realises he's tapping the fingers of his left hand against his thigh, a sign he's nervous, which is ridiculous. He crosses his arms over his chest instead, leaning back against the faux-leather seat.
Karl leans over, hooking his chin on George’s shoulder as he looks down at his phone screen. “Hey, you look hot in that one,” he says, pointing at the screen. “You’ve been holding out on us!”
“These photos aren’t mine,” George says.
Karl gasps. “Where’d you find these pics, Dream? Wait, George, do you have a private Insta you haven’t told me about? I am wounded.” George shakes his head no. Karl gasps again, louder. “Dream. Do you have a secret George folder on your phone?”
“No.” It's not secret. He just hasn't mentioned it to anyone.
“Ahh, this one’s cute,” Karl says, pointing at the screen again. “Is that your cat?”
“Yeah,” Dream and George answer at the same time. George’s gaze flicks up to his.
“I’m not sure about the bio, though,” Karl continues, “You make George sound pretty appealing here, what’s up with that?”
George elbows him in the side and Karl laughs. Alex demands to see and so Karl takes the phone from George, passing it over to him. Their heads bow together as they scroll through the profile together, talking in low voices to each other.
“Thanks,” says George, quiet. He's looking Dream straight in the eye.
“No problem,” says Dream. Then, on impulse, without thinking: “You know I'd do anything for you.”
George rolls his eyes and scoffs, but his smile is genuine.
“Dude!” says Karl. “You might actually get some dates with this!”
“Yeah, George,” says Alex. “You might go on dates.” For some weird reason, he’s looking at Dream as he says this, eyebrows raised and grin huge. Dream's eyebrows pinch together in a frown.
“I knew we could rely on Dream,” Karl says. “Didn’t I say it?" He puffs out his chest. "I'm the greatiest homie ever. Admit it: I was right. Karl Jacobs: genius.”
“You didn’t even make the profile!” Alex points out, “Dream did!”
“—I’ll take free coffees for the rest of the month as payment. No, George, you don’t need to give me your first born, it’s fine—”
Alex starts to argue with him about whose idea the dating app profile was in the first place. As they bicker, George catches Dream’s eye. Thanks, he mouths to him.
No problem, Dream replies. He smiles.
Checking the time again on his watch, he swears under his breath and then gets to his feet. From walking over to their table to making the profile, he's lost a full half hour of his shift. Oops. Good thing it's a quiet day.
He heads back over to the counter where Sapnap is finishing off some sort of elaborate coffee order for two teenage girls who look up at Dream with wide eyes as he passes by.
“What were you up to?” Sapnap asks.
“Making George a dating app profile.”
“...What?”
Before Dream can reply, a customer appears, and then there's a sudden influx, the first of the late afternoon crowd, and so he gets to work.
Alex and Karl hang around for another hour before heading out to a lecture. As they leave, Karl makes sure to yell, “Goodbye, my beloved!” back to Sapnap and Alex makes kissing faces at him. George catches Dream’s eye across the coffee shop and pulls a face. Dream grins.
The rest of Dream’s shift passes in relative normalcy. There’s the early-evening rush when most lectures are finished, a variety of different students coming in looking for a quick caffeine fix after a day of study. Niki comes in during a lull and he takes a couple of minutes to chat with her, appreciating her warm positivity.
George got out his textbooks after Alex and Karl left, stays studying at his table in the corner by the window, backlit by the fading sun as evening falls. He has one hand in his hair, elbow resting on the table as he writes notes in his writing pad with the other. He should look like any other student, bored and stressed in equal measures, dressed unspectacularly in his oversized sweater and jeans, but as the sun goes down, golden rays cast George in a stupidly-good light, highlighting the edge of his cheekbone, the line of his jaw. He’s caught the eye of more than one person at the coffee shop, other students who stare openly or send furtive looks in his direction, whispering behind their hands to their friends.
He’s so stupid-pretty and he doesn’t even know it. Dream wants to ruffle his hair, pull his metaphorical pigtails. Ball up some paper napkins and throw them at the back of his head. He resists.
(And sneakily takes another photo for his George collection.)
***
Later that night, when evening has fallen outside and Dream has finished cleaning tables, he flips the sign on the door over to closed. Then he grabs a plate, a piece of cake and two forks.
“Here.” He puts the cake down in front of George and slides into the booth opposite him. He stretches out his long legs out underneath the table, hooks one of his feet around George’s ankle and tugs. George jolts forwards on his seat, glares and kicks him in the shin.
“It’s that time already?” George looks down at his watch, like Dream hasn’t just closed down the entire coffee shop around him. He leaves his foot resting against Dream’s ankle. “What’s the cake?” He picks up the fork and slices himself off a corner.
“Pistachio and rose."
George chews thoughtfully, frowns slightly, swallows. “It’s… different.”
Dream fights back a smile. “Hey, if you don’t want it...” He reaches with his own fork to cut off a piece and is thwarted by George’s fork as he blocks his move. He parries George and tries again. George stabs his fork down, capturing Dream’s fork between the prongs on his own. George's eyes narrow.
“I didn’t say that.”
Dream rolls his eyes but lets George take another piece of cake before cutting off some of his own.
It’s become a bit of a routine for them, sharing cake after the shop is closed, ever since the first time George came to the coffee shop, a night Dream doesn't think he'll ever forget.
Sometimes Sapnap’s with them. Tonight he’s in the back ‘taking stock’ (facetiming Karl) so it’s just the two of them.
As they eat, Dream pulls George’s notepad towards him, leafing through the notes he’s been making for his coding class while they make idle chat about their day. It’s nice talking to George. They click in a way Dream never has with anyone else — before or since. Not even Sapnap. Sometimes George can be frustrating, sure, when he's being deliberately bratty and contrary, purposefully trying to get a rise out of someone (usually Sapnap), but even when they’re bickering and acting like literal children, Dream knows he wouldn't trade them for the world.
He catches George sneaking glances at him a few times, thoughtful, as they talk.
“What?” Dream asks.
“Nothing.” George shakes his head. Strands of his dark hair catch the coloured lights of shop signs outside, distorted through the window in the darkness. It’s thick, thicker than when they first met, curling around the tops of his ears and into his eyes. He should probably cut it, but Dream kind of likes the softer edge it gives him.
“So,” Dream says, when they’ve finished the cake. He puts his fork down on the plate with a clink. “The dating app.”
“Don’t.” George’s voice is strained.
“You gonna use it?”
He’s not sure why he’s so interested, figures it’s probably down to him being the one who created the profile for George. He wants to know if he succeeded; he’s competitive. He doesn’t like losing, and it sort of feels like losing if George doesn’t even use it.
George does not look like he’s going to use it.
“Come on,” Dream says, lowering his voice. “Trust me.”
George looks at him for a long time, expression impossible to parse. He’s so guarded, sometimes, so hard to read. George bites down on his bottom lip with his teeth, releases it slowly. “You really think I should go on dates with other people?”
There’s something off about his phrasing, something Dream can’t quite put his finger on. “It’s just dates.”
“‘Just dates,’ he says,” George mimics him in an unflattering tone, “Like it happens all the time.”
“Well, for someone as hot as me—” Dream starts laughing before he can even finish.
“Oh my god.”
“Every— every day of my life is like a date with how much—” Dream wheezes.
“Shut up!”
“Jealousy—” he pauses to take a breath, still fighting off laughter, “—is not a good look, George.”
“I’m not jealous!”
“Oh, sure. Listen, George, just because I’ve actually been on dates and you haven’t… or — or maybe you have,” Dream says, as the thought occurs to him, “But you’re so bad at them—”
“Dream!”
“Is that it? Are you the worst date ever? Is that why you tell people you’ve never been on a date?”
“Dream, I swear—” George makes a move to stab him with his fork.
Dream pulls back, still laughing. “You know there’s only one way to get me to stop, George. Just go on a date, then I’ll—”
“Fine!” declares George.
“Fine?” Dream raises an eyebrow.
“Fine,” George repeats. He’s not quite pouting, but it’s close. “I’ll use the stupid app.”
Somehow, Dream resists punching the air. He wrestles the flood of adrenaline at winning down into a respectable, “Pog.”
George rolls his eyes at him, but the slight curve to the side of his lips says he’s not really mad about it. They fall silent. Dream watches as George toys with his fork, resting the point of the handle on the table and spinning it.
After a few seconds, George asks, “Do you… do you think people will match with me?”
“Yeah,” says Dream, instant. “You’re a catch.” He reaches out to put his hand over George’s to stop him spinning the fork and pay attention to him. “I mean it.” Does George not think people would want him?
George’s gaze flickers down to their hands. He takes a breath. Looks up. “Dream, I—”
“Yeah, Georgie,” Sapnap says, appearing suddenly behind George and slinging an arm around his shoulder. “You’re hot stuff.”
“Get off!” The change in atmosphere is instant. George shrugs his shoulders but Sapnap just laughs and leans on him harder. George reaches up, attempting to get him to let go with his free hand. Sapnap easily fends him off. As he does, Sapnap catches sight of where Dream’s hand rests over George’s other hand and raises an eyebrow at him.
Dream pulls his hand away from George’s and leans back, crossing his arms over his chest instead as they devolve quickly into bickering.
Despite himself, Dream watches them fondly. They’re idiots, but they’re his idiots. The two of them arguing is as much a part of their nightly routine as is him sharing cake with George.
He got lucky, he thinks, going to university in the same place at the same time as these two. The universe conspiring to bring them together. Fate.
Eventually Sapnap and George get bored of sniping and trying to one-up each other, and Dream’s able to corral them into getting their things together so they can leave. Outside the shop, George throws his bag over his shoulder and mutters a thank you for the cake and the chat about his coding notes, to which Dream shrugs and replies, “No problem.”
As George heads off down the street in the opposite direction to them, Sapnap waits for Dream by the door. He lingers as he locks up, shifting restlessly from one foot to the other.
“What?” asks Dream, not looking at him.
“What?” Sapnap mimics him, “I didn't say anything.”
“You wanted to though.” Dream checks the door handle then tucks the keys in his back pocket. “Spit it out.”
“How did you… you know what, never mind.” Sapnap shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. They turn and start walking down the street. “George?” he prompts.
“Dream,” he corrects, deliberately obtuse. Sapnap elbows him. “Ow, fine. What about George?” He rubs at his arm with his hand.
Sapnap gives him a long look, then focuses on the street ahead. “You know, the dating app thing. You're fine with it?”
Dream frowns. “Why wouldn't I be?”
“Well, you know.” Dream doesn't know. He waits for Sapnap to elaborate. Sapnap turns his head to stare at him for what feels like the longest time and then sighs. “Just… are you sure you're okay with it? Like, really okay? George dating?”
“Yeah,” says Dream. “Why wouldn't I be?”
Sapnap just looks at him.
“Why are you making it weird?”
“I'm not!”
“You are. It's like we're— we're exes, or something, and you're checking to see if my feelings are hurt that he might date someone else.”
“Are they?” Sapnap asks quickly. Too quickly.
“What?” Dream asks, narrowing his eyes. “No. Of course they're not. It's George. He can date whoever he wants. It's nothing to do with — why do you keep looking at me like that.”
Sapnap mutters something under his breath that Dream can't quite catch. Then, he squares his shoulders and straightens up. “Fine. It's nothing to do with you. But don't say in three months that I didn't warn you when George is dating someone else and isn't sharing cake with you every night while you have your special little conversations—”
“Fuck off!” Dream declares, laughing, and shoves Sapnap in the side. Sapnap, caught off-guard, stumbles, almost falling into a bush at the side of the road, which just makes Dream laugh even harder.
They move onto talking about other things. Dream pushes his hands into his jacket pockets as they walk, elbows occasionally bumping. Even as they chat about university and life and their friends, his thoughts keep drifting back to George and the dating app. He's not sure why, but whenever he thinks about it, there's a strange feeling in his gut. Like he's nervous, only not.
It’s just a dating app, he thinks. What can possibly go wrong?