The Devil's 'Friend' // DNF (DISCONTINUED)

.::6::.

"That's hot."

Dream stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at George who was pulling a pan out of the oven.

The two were in the middle of making muffins and Dream, who had never really baked anything in all the years he had lived, had never experienced the extremities of a hot oven. Or the baked, stale air that escaped when opened for that.

He was currently whining about the heat while covered from head to toe in flour from preparing the batter and being in a flour fight with George and fanning himself with a spatula to try and expel the stuffiness of the room.

It had been a long week of sowing the seeds of a good friendship and they had finally decided to do something less outside. Dream hated the heat and George was beginning to agree with him. It wasn't like they could go swimming or anything, what with both of their appearances.

George glanced over his shoulder at Dream, rolling his eyes. "You're such a wimp. Who knew that the big bad demon was actually a little cry baby." He mocked, setting the pan on the stove.

He was answered with a cloud of flour to his already white head of hair. He sneezed despite himself, grinning and turning with an armed hand of the same substance to return the action to Dream. But the devil was nowhere to be seen.

"Not just a wimp, but a coward too? Sad." George shook his head, pretending to let his guard down as he turned back to the steaming muffins.

He smirked as he heard light footsteps behind him, counting to three under his breath before whirling around and surprising the unexpecting Dream who was paused now, frozen midstep, hand raised in the air with espacing flour.

The demon was thoroughly dusted in flour to say the least and George couldn't get enough of it. He was practically on the floor, sobbing with laughter and covered in just about the same amount of flour as the unimpressed Dream. He pointed a shaky finger up at the standing devil, "You're... face!!" He cackled, letting another burst of giggles escape his throat.

Dream rolled his eyes despite the mask. "I let you do that."

"Surrrreee you did." George smirked knowingly, struggling to regain his breath.

Dream raised his hand in response and shook the rest of the remaining flour from it onto George. Who screamed in mock fright and covered his eyes, coughing. "DREAM!"

"Sorry, can't hear you from all the way down there!" He sang, spinning on his heel and hurrying away from George's blind swipes at his legs.

"You fucker." George growled.

He blinked, his eyes stinging from the foreign fog of flour.

Dream smirked at him from a safe distance, taunting him with that stupid smile on his mask and face. But George took heed of the flour he held ready in his hand and stood back.

"Oh come onnn." He groaned, defenseless.

Dream seemed to already know this and was taking part to enjoy this small victory whilst he could. He stepped forward threateningly.

George's face paled even more than it already was from the flour and he quickly spun around to grab some flour from the bag but it was gone. He let out a frightened laugh as he turned to meet the devil's gaze.

He was not expecting him to be leaning over his shoulder, hand raised in warning.

George let out a short shriek and bent backwards over the counter slightly, his hands on the edge. Dream leaned impossibly closer, so close that George could feel his breath on his forehead—yes he's short shut up—.