dnf oneshots collection

whore week day 2, crop top [lime]

prompt: a large end of the summer party is in place when george goes wandering around, looking for dream. 

wordcount: 879

cw/tw - mentions of alcohol 

George sat alone, fiddling with his hands boredly. He shouldn't be bored, he thought. Its a party, he supposed to be wasted, out there making out with random guys and playing drinking games. But no, there he sat. Bored. And alone. 

He was on his 5th, maybe 6th shot and he had just downed another. People surrounded the area, clustering into their small friend groups and it was all the cliches. You had the guys who flirted with everyone, shooting their shots at interested girls, the guys who conversated with everyone, and then the guys who stayed to themselves and only came to the party to say that they'd been to one. Georges group didn't exactly fit into any of those, even with his two close friends at the party, he had no one of socialize with. George became fed up easily. He didn't come to the party just for Dream and Sapnap to ditch him. Which wasn't really what they were doing since George came to the party late--but he'd sent them both a text saying he'd arrived and it seemed neither made an effort to find him. He'd searched a bit to find them, but with at least 200 people there and no clue what they were wearing, it was a bit hard. 

So after a bit, George had given up and went to sit down. Which left him there, disinterested in his surroundings and drunk. He leaned his head on the tree he sat against, closing his eyes and making up random scenarios in his head. 

..

"George?" 

George felt a gentle kick on his leg, initially causing him to open his eyes. As he looked up, he noticed it was Dream--which isn't what caught his eye. In front of him he stared, Dream wore a crop top that barely covered his chest, the hems on the bottom were rigid, hinting that Dream had cut it to be so short himself. His gaze glossed over his lightly toned abs, not very visible unless you were as close as he was.    

"George? You good?" 

"Yeah no I'm fine, perfectly fine." His tone came off very passive aggressive, even though it was unintentional. George went to stand up, maybe to be eye to eye with Dream instead of staring up at him. Trying to get to his feet, he was a little out of it from all the alcohol in his system. Dream held his arm, and even being just as drunk as George was (if not more drunk) he was able to keep his balance just fine which allowed him to help George up. 

"Where even were you, Dream? I have literally been looking for like.." George stopped in his words, grabbing Dreams wrist and looking at the time. "How the hell is it already 1? What?" He said, getting completely off topic. Dream stood there with a small smile, letting George say what he needed to say.

"Whatever, I literally looked for you for an hour, I texted you both, why didn't you answer? My god, I missed you." He scoffed and Dream could feel his face heat up, those weren't words he had ever heard from George. 

Even as George completely talked his mouth off, going on and on about how much he missed him and how bored he was--somehow the subject got shifted to how some girl tried hitting on him too--Dream couldn't take his eyes off of his lips. He tried so hard to convince himself it was the alcohol speaking, that he wasn't really about to do this. 

Oh but he was. 

Mid sentence, George went quiet. Dream grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer and in the matter of a millisecond, their lips were bounded. He could taste the whiskey on Georges lips and the feeling of George kissing him back was more intoxicating than everything he had to drink that night. 

George felt himself being pushed against the tree, riveted in place by Dreams arms on either side of him. But he didn't mind. He let his hands explore more than inside his pockets, his finger tips ghosted Dreams tan skin as George ran his hands up the crop top. 

The kiss tasted of desperation, need for more and pure bliss--maybe a bit of rum and whiskey here and there. They couldn't be any closer than they already were, their bodies basically curving into one another as they broke apart every now and then for a gasp. As George ran his hands under the crop top, he drew small circles into his skin with his fingertips and as George accidently ran his hand over his nipples, he broke apart to gasp, their faces only centimeters apart. So George did it again once more for the same reaction. 

He knew what he wanted when he came to the party, to find someone and explore with them, but the last person he expected that someone to be was his best friend, Dream--despite how much he'd always wanted it to be.

Little to say, small crushes on your best friend and alcohol don't exactly go hand in hand--or maybe they do.