sunflowers and denim overalls 🌻 DREAMNOTFOUND

THREE

"So what's your favorite color?" Dream asks George.

"I really don't want to have a heart to heart while we're shoveling cow shit," George says, dropping another shovel of poop onto the wheelbarrow.

"Hey, just asking for your favorite color," Dream raises his hands in defense, one still holding the shovel. "But I guess that's too personal."

Rolling his eyes, George replies, "It's blue."

"Why blue?" Dream says, resuming his shoveling.

"I'm colorblind, blue is one of the few colors I can see properly."

"Woah, really?" he stops shoveling again, and gestures to the meadows. "So you can't tell that the grass is green?"

Frowning, George asks in confusion, "What's green?" Dream's jaw drops at this, and George starts laughing. "I'm joking, I know what green is. Just never really seen it," he looks over at the field with a sigh.

"Hm," Dream hums thoughtfully.

"You're making me do all the work," George says, nodding at Dream's shovel on the ground.

"Sorry, sorry," Dream picks his shovel back up. "So how do you see it, then? Is everything just black and white, other than blue?"

"No, mostly I see yellow," George grunts as he dumps a particularly heavy load of bullshit.

"Huh." Dream says. "I think we're done here."

George breathes a sigh of relief, throwing the shovel down as Dream rolls the wheelbarrow away.

"It's not over yet, though," Dream sings, walking back. "We have to feed everyone."

George groans, following him nonetheless. "Does it ever end?"

"Sure," Dream replies. "And then you do it all over again the next day."

"I'm gonna run away," George says. "Please, oh please, Dream, let me run away," he begs.

"And pass up a free personal slave?" Dream scoffs, walking over to the where Rooster stood near a feeder. "I think the fuck not."

"Arse," George mumbles, smiling.

"Hey, he's just a wee horse," Dream pets Rooster, a handsome, white stallion with brown speckled along his neck and face.

George laughs, standing nearby and watching Dream show his affection towards the animal.

He considers petting the horse himself, hesitantly lifting his arm, when Dream takes hold of his hand suddenly. "Wh-what are you-"

Dream places George's hand on Rooster's neck, guiding it along his mane gently. "He's beautiful, isn't he?" Dream asks, carefully studying George's face.

George swallows, turning his attention to the horse's coarse, cream-colored hair, and the way it scratches at his palm. "He is." George tries not to focus on the way Dream's gaze is burning a hole into the side of his head, or on how Dream's hand feels like it might physically burn his skin. "What's your favorite color, then?" George pulls his hand out from under Dream's, and although it's probably only the hopeless romantic inside of him, he thinks Dream sounds disappointed when he answers.

"Green," he says simply, walking into the barn in which a number of chickens ran around.

"Am I allowed to ask why?" George says, following along.

"It's the color of the grass, the trees - life in all it's glory," Dream says dramatically.

"Oh?"

"No, that was bullshit." Dream shrugs, picking up a brown sack of horse feed. "I dunno, I've always liked it. Shame you can't see it, though." He winces, "Shit, was that insensitive of me to say?"

"Yes, Dream," George says, making his lower lip dramatically wobble and wiping a non-existent tear from under his eye. "You've wounded me."

"Oh, however will I make it up to you?" Dream sighs, carrying the sack back over to Rooster as George walks behind him, admiring his shoulders.

"I can think of something," George says, smirking.

"Oh yeah?" Dream says, laughing his awkward laugh. "What's that?"

"Something that'll make me forgive you for every time you've ever wronged me," George coos, coming closer as heat creeps up Dream's neck.

"Really?" he squeaks, giving a weak chuckle. There's less than a foot of distance between them, Dream realizes, and he wonders if George even knows what he sounds like.

"Mhm," George nods, and Dream's eyes flicker to George's lips, how they're perfectly shaped and so, so pink. "Any guesses?"

Dream swallows, attempting to think clearly. "Um...not really." Yes. So many.

"Please, Dream," George says, nearly whining, and Dream's about to lose it before George says- "Let me take the rest of the day off."