Champagne Burnouts/Dnf

Extra Content

These are chapters that could've happened but I either didn't like it or had a better plot idea enjoy <3

Chapter 9
Sun rays blinded his vision at first blink. Warmth eloped his body and George decided to sink deeper into it letting the night before replay behind his eyelids.

Drinks with the Las Nevadas crew had been more relieving then George thought it'd be. He didn't have to think. None of his grammar had to line up in perfect punctuation. None of his body language had to be put together and tied at the neck. George was just himself drunk off the hills and laugher he relaxed into the couch.

"Truth or dare!"

Georges snorted at the childish game Quackity had started.

Blah balh blah

Something patted his nose. Careful but persistent the pats continued. George eventually opened his eyes, if only to tell off whoever was disturbing his slumber. A green eyed feline gazed into his soul bumping him with it's wet nose. This wasn't his cat. And it also wasn't his bed. George realized pretty quickly that he hadn't gone home. Both of his legs and arms remained deeply entangled in someone's bed. A deep sigh escaped his chest.

"Good morning, train wreck."

"Fuck off," George buried his nose into a pillow that wasn't his. He hadn't noticed Dream there, but now his presence started up George's tame heartbeat. The smell of fresh vanilla and hesitant diesel seemed to follow the masked man where ever he went. George hadn't had enough time to decide whether he tolerated the aroma or not.

Dream rustled the blanket when he turned over and something finally registered in George's hazy mind. Both eyes peered over the pillowcase and caught Dream's gaze. A deer in headlights.

"Why am I in your bed?"

Dream gave no sudden reaction, "because I put you there."

"Why?"

"Because you asked me to." Dream picked up the cat who had slowly tried to cut off their eye contact.

Oh...oh. George frowned to himself.

"I didn't kiss you if that's what you're afraid of." Dream smiled at his own joke but George didn't find it amusing. He felt... well he felt confused. And it wasn't just because of the alcohol.

"Patches," Dream reprimanded. The cat had escaped and sauntered it's way back into George's personal space. A smile tugged at his lips when it rubbed against his outstretched hand.

"Patches?"

"She is a mangy thing that has no recollection of personal space," Dream said.

George hummed and watched her settle down in the crook between his stomach and knees.

"My cat is the opposite of yours," he said. "He'll sit on a dresser and glare at you. Then bite if you attempt to pet him or if he's just pissed off."

"He's closed off?" Dream asked, George hummed in term. "Much like it's owner."

Those words should have caused irritation in George's chest not this odd warmth again. He didn't understand the burn of embarrassment lighting his cheeks. George had nothing to be embarrassed about it was a true statement if anyone else had said it the statement would have been the same. The frown returned and Dream seemed to catch it this time.

"What is it?" Dream held a hand next to George's ear but paused. He took the initiative and grasped Dream's wrist and moved it to where he'd wanted it. Fingers immediately brushed hair behind his ears and rested easily on the nape of his neck.