Dreamnotfound Smut Oneshots

Free Drinks and Bad Company

george goes to a party and dream won't leave him alone

~

The first thing George notices from his position cramped up against the light blue walls of whoever’s house he’s currently stood in, is that the beer in the bright red cup he’s holding, is positively disgusting. It’s lukewarm and bitter and every time he takes a sip he feels as though he’ll be sick, but he’s not even meant to be there, so who’s he to complain.

The next thing he notices though, is exactly how much he hates parties.

He sighs, letting his head fall back as he brings the cup up to his lips, cringing at the taste but drinking it anyway. ‘The only good thing about these parties is the free drinks,’ he muses to himself, a faint smile forcing its way onto his face and he goes to drink again but the sound of the front door swinging open and a loud cheer draws his attention instead.

A group of boys, all in the same team colours, barge their way through the door, all grinning from ear to ear as the crowd welcomes them with delight. George tries to keep the frown off his face, ignoring the commotion and choosing to go refill his drink instead. He pushes past a few idle people to make his way towards the drinks table, ignoring the glares people send him as he moves.

His own fault for going to his rival school’s celebration party, he supposes.

Eventually, he reaches the drinks, grabbing a can of shitty beer and pouring it into his cup, keeping his head down as he does so.

“Hey shortie,” George looks up, a scowl already making its way onto his face when he sees the tall, blond-haired boy that’s standing in front of him. “Pass me a drink,” the boy says with a smile, either having not noticed or ignoring the unwelcoming look George is giving him.

Reluctantly, George hands over a can of beer, flinching when his hand touches the others, but his reaction is only met with a light chuckle and another hand being pushed in front of his face.

“I’m Dream,” the man- Dream says, lowering his hand hesitantly when George makes no attempt to grab it.

“Nice,” George says dismissively, his eyes flick up to meet Dream’s green ones and he holds the contact for a second before staring back down into his drink.

The music around them still booms and fills the room at an uncomfortably loud level and George’s ears feel as though they may shatter if he has to listen to it for much longer, so, without a word he spins on his heel, walking towards the back door and slipping through it, the effects of the night all hitting him at once as the cool air touches his skin. He slumps against the brick wall, watching as people tumble around the grass, intoxicated and carefree.

Just as he’s about to take another drink, he feels the wall shake as a body slots in next to his, a cough coming from his side to draw his attention and when he looks up, he’s greeted by the same blond hair and green eyes from before.

“Dream,” The man says again, gesturing to himself with a grin, “And you are?”

George raises an eyebrow, “Is that your real name?”

“No,” Dream says, the smile still not falling from his mouth, “But you can call me it anyway.”

George hums, turning away and hoping, no, praying Dream would take the hint and just leave him alone.