Missed Chances || Dreamnotfound

12

Karl leaves George in his room, alone, well, except for the prince that still sleeps in the bathroom tub.

George can't go anywhere, he isn't allowed to without Dream. He sighs in annoyance and walks to the bathroom, where Dream still sleeps.

With rosy cheeks and messy hair, Dream looks effortlessly charming, even while sleeping in a terribly awkward position. George rolls his eyes.

He bends over, shaking Dream's shoulder. Dream squints at him, waving a lazy hand. "Go away," he mumbles sleepily.

"Get up, idiot," George says, shaking Dream's shoulder more. "I'm bored."

"Let me sleep," Dream scowls, screwing his eyes shut.

George stands up, crossing his arms. "Are you comfortable?"

"Mhm," Dream hums, spiteful.

George scoffs and walks to the corner of the bathroom. He picks up a pail full of water, usually reserved for cleaning, and dumps it on Dream. "Get up, idiot."

As he drops the bucket, Dream sits up, sputtering. Droplets of water land on George, but he doesn't care, still glaring at Dream. Dream's chest shakes in anger and he glares back.

"You're going to pay for that," Dream hisses, shaking wet hair out of his face.

The glint in his eyes is enough to make George flinch. George backs away slowly, hands lifted. "Wait, Dream," George says, eyes wide as Dream stands up, wringing the hem of his shirt.

George bolts, slamming the bathroom door shut and leaning against it. He feels Dream ram into the door, and his heart jumps. He's scared, but a part of him feels proud he soaked Dream with a pailful of water.

The door thuds again and Dream shouts, "Let me out, fucker!"

George almost laughs, but his fear is too great to be swayed by other emotions. He runs to hide behind his dresser, heart loud in his ears.

The door slams open and Dream croons, "Princess, where are you? I won't hurt you."

George's mouth clamps shut, and he fights a grin. Dream pops into his field of vision, grinning as he shouts, "Boo!"

George yelps and runs to the bed, placing it between him and Dream. Dream walks forward, eyes bright. That's when George sees a bucket in his hand. George's eyes widen. "Aw, George, are you scared?"

"No," George says, shaking his head.

Dream grins. "It's okay, darling, I only want to do what you did to me."

"Listen, Dream," George bargains, "I won't do it again, okay?" He can't help but snipe, "And don't call me that."

Dream's grin widens, wolfish. He sets the pail down near the bed. Thinking for a moment, he says, "Fine."

George, mistrustful, doesn't budge. Dream says with a testing glint in his eyes, "Apologize."

George crosses his arms, eyes narrowing. "I'm sorry."

"More."

"I'm sorry, Dream," George says with a mocking bite in his words. "I won't tarnish your reputation ever again with a bucket of water."

Dream snorts. "You can do better."

"I don't think I can," George replies, a hint of a grin tugging on the corner of his lips.

Dreams sighs, shaking his head. "You did this to yourself."

Dream lunges across the bed that splits them, grabbing George's shirt before he can react. Pulling George to the bed, Dream sits on his waist to pin him down, laughing. George shouts, unable to move because Dream's knees pin his hands to his sides.

Dream reaches over to lift the bucket of water, grinning. George says quickly, "Dream, wait! You'll ruin the sheets."

"I don't fucking care about the sheets," Dream says with a chuckle, bucket in hand.

"Wait, please don't," George says, eyes squeezing shut. He suddenly is aware of how close they are. He remembers a trick he learned in self defense about how to get out of a situation, but George doesn't use it.

"Tell you what," Dream muses, "how 'bout a deal?"

George's eyes crack open, intrigued. Wary, he asks, "What is it?"

"I won't dump this on you," Dream says, grinning devilishly. George knows the words that come next. "For a kiss."

"No," George says immediately, glaring at Dream. He wouldn't dare give Dream that victory.

Dream shrugs. "Fine, just remember, you wanted this."

He lifts the pail, getting ready to tip it. Dream pauses, waiting for George to plead, to relent. George's jaw is set, but when the pail tips further, he says hastily, "Wait, wait."

Dream sets down the bucket, leaning forward. Freckles stark on his cheeks like constellations, Dream grins. "What was that?"

Dream places his ear right above George's mouth, teasing him. "I said wait," George mutters.

Dream looks him in his eyes, eyebrow lifted expectantly. George scowls, "At least let me have my hands."

Dream obliges, loosening his legs for George to be able to move his arms. He looks between Dream's eyes challengingly. "No strings attached."

Dream simply shrugs, wearing the grin that George has always hated. George whispers, "I hate you."

"Oh, princess," Dream murmurs, lips tantalizingly close, "trust me, I know."

George's fingers find the damp fabric of Dream's shirt, pulling Dream to his lips. At first, it's slow, testing the waters. But when George's tongue traces over Dream's upper lip, Dream kisses with haste.

George didn't plan for the kiss to last more than a second, but Dream's into it. And damn him because George is into it too. Dream's hand holds George's jaw gently, as their lips move in a melody that grows familiar within moments.

Dream's breath starts to deepen, his chest sinking to press fully against George's. Their bodies press together everywhere. George can't see most colors, but he swears he sees red flash before his vision.

Their kiss starts to get messy, George can feel Dream unravel. George's arms hang around Dream's neck loosely. He knows he needs to stop before things can go too far, before they do something they'll regret.

Blindly, still kissing Dream, he reaches for the pail of water. Part of him yells to leave the bucket, to let things continue. God knows he wants it to. But the sensible part of him is stronger. George lifts the pail and dumps it on the both of them.

Cold water splashes over them, and the bucket clatters to the floor. Dream leans back, panting with wide eyes. George just lies below him, breathless with his arms on the bed. They're both drenched, and no longer consumed with desire.

"That," Dream sputters, "was foul."

George doesn't have any words, wiping the water off his face. Dream shakes his head, water droplets flying out of his hair. George knows he does it to clear his mind. Slowly, Dream gets off George, snapping out of his daze.

George stays on the soaked sheets, staring at the ceiling. He slowly blinks away any impure thoughts that he was having moments ago. He sits up, swinging his legs over the bed. He doesn't look at Dream.

"I'm sorry," George whispers, voice scratchy. "I―"

"I'm not."

George hears Dream's feet pad into the bathroom. His shoulders sag with relief.

What. The. Fuck.

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a/n - spicy mmm

luv u to pieces