Just One Night // DNF

31 - Jealousy Is Green

A/N - 6500+ babes; sorry for the delay. Hope you enjoy. Long chapter. Get somewhere cozy and dark. I expect you to have a bag of some sort of chip and a bottle of water or a can of soda. I don't care which. A blanket and your comfort stuffed animal. Be safe loves <3.

"Do not ever touch me again or I'll break something other than your nose." 

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Dream's POV

The first thing Dream noticed the minute he and his team walked onto the field was how a specific opposing player was looking at George. The minute the two of them walked out of the lockers and onto the field, he could feel someone's gaze in their direction.

And when he investigated, turning his head ever so slightly to the left, he realized that number 13 on Saltwater High's team was pointedly staring at George. And not in a friendly way, either. Dream knew that look. Too well. And George was utterly oblivious. Or ignorant. Or simply didn't care. 

And Dream did not like it. 

"Hey," George nudged his arms into Dream's, passing him his water bottle. Dream took it wordlessly, eyebrow raised as he drank. "You alright? You seem buzzy," George asked, his arms crossing over his chest. 

Dream set his water bottle down on the bench, "Buzzy?" George nodded and glanced in the direction of where Dream's eyes were boring holes into the back of 13's head. "You seem on edge. You won't look at me."

Dream's eyes snapped to the other immediately, 13 mildly forgotten into the depths of his mind as he took in the beautiful, utterly perfect person standing in front of him. "Sorry." Dream says, genuinely. George shakes his head with a smile, "Don't be. Tell me what's wrong. Did Alex say something to freak you out?"

Dream debated on if he should tell George of 13's infatuation with George. How the guy's eyes just won't keep to himself. Dream would love nothing more than to stab them out of the sockets. But then he wondered if he was imagining it, if he was all edgy and heightened because of the game and was imagining things that weren't there. 

And even if it were true, how does one simply explain their need to bash someone's head into a brick wall until they can't see without sounding like a complete psychopath? Exactly. George would probably run in the opposite direction, so Dream just brushed it off and smiled. "Something like that, Berry." 

George's eyes widened, his face flushed and Dream wished he could whip out his phone and take a picture to freeze the moment. To save it. "You sure you're okay?" George asked again, his face full of so much worry it made his heart squeeze and stutter out against his rib cage.

Dream just smiled, ruffled George's hair, and said with the tone he always used with George, "I'm perfect." He was lying a little bit, but that's okay. George didn't need to know about his murder urges.

George just sighed, giving up. He was about to say something, his mouth partially open when Coach Barnes blew his whistle. Game time. George shut his mouth and looked over his shoulder at the group of starters forming on the field. Dream should go, he knew he had to go. But yet, his feet were glued to the grass.

"Good luck," George said, stepping out of the way and turning around to look at the field, "don't break anything."

Dream smiled, wiggling his feet free from where they were anchored, and fought the urge to kiss the other as he said, "No promises." before jogging up to the forming huddle. He shoved on his helmet before snapping it into place. Then he shoved his way into the circle, just in time for Coach to start dishing out game plans.