Beneath The Surface - DNF

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Dream woke up to the familiar warmth of his own bed, the soft light of the morning spilling through the curtains. His room, usually his private sanctuary, felt different today. He turned his head slightly and saw George lying beside him, tangled in the sheets. The sight of the Brit sleeping in his bed was jarring, though not because George didn't belong there. It was the way he looked so peaceful, like he had found some sort of comfort in Dream's space, something neither of them would acknowledge once they woke up.

Memories from the night before rushed back—too much alcohol, George getting drunk, and then... the kiss.

His heart skipped a beat as he glanced over at George, who was already awake, though still lying down, his dark eyes slowly blinking away the remnants of sleep. The moment stretched between them, heavy with everything that had happened. Dream could tell George remembered, just by the way his body tensed slightly, but neither of them said a word.

George sat up slowly, his eyes avoiding Dream's as he shifted beneath the sheets. "You didn't have to let me crash here," he muttered, his voice hoarse, clearly trying to sound casual. "Could've just kicked me out."

Dream, leaning back against the headboard, kept his gaze fixed on George. "You didn't seem like you wanted to leave," he replied, his voice calm but carrying an underlying weight.

The silence that followed was thick, laden with the unspoken tension between them. George's body language shifted, betraying a discomfort he was trying hard to mask. He ran a hand through his messy hair, avoiding Dream's gaze as he spoke. "About last night..." he started but trailed off, his throat dry, the words not coming as easily as they normally would.

Dream didn't push, but the intensity in his green eyes made George's breath catch. There was no escaping the weight of what had happened, and they both knew it.

"Well," Dream said after a beat, his voice low but firm, "did you like it?"

George's eyes darted to meet Dream's, and he felt a sharp jolt in his chest. He hadn't expected Dream to be so direct. His mind raced, scrambling for an answer that wouldn't make this even more complicated. He could joke it off, make light of it, but Dream's gaze told him that wouldn't work.

"We're already working together," George muttered, his usual sharpness dulled by the weight of the conversation. "We need to address it, don't we?"

Dream's gaze remained steady. "We do," he agreed quietly, watching George intently. "So... did you?"

George felt his chest tighten, the memory of the kiss still fresh, still electric. He could lie, say it was nothing, just a drunken moment. But something about the way Dream was looking at him, the way Dream's large hands could cover almost his whole waist, the urge the brunette felt to crawl into his lap, the height and size difference, the blonde's sharp lips, his eyes—everything was just so... addicting.

"I don't know," George admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I did."

The admission hung in the air between them, charged and dangerous. George's pitch-black eyes met Dream's green ones, and for the first time in a long while, he didn't know what to do next. The tension was thick, almost suffocating, but there was no turning back now. Not after that kiss. Not after what they both knew was there but hadn't said aloud.

"Maybe's a start," Dream murmured, his voice softer now, his green eyes searching George's face for any hint of what he was thinking.

George shifted slightly in the bed, his body betraying the storm of emotions churning inside him. He glanced around Dream's room, taking in the unfamiliarity of it all. George was used to luxury—he had his own wealth, his own empire—but this was different. Dream's room alone was the largest he'd ever seen, and that was saying something. The sheer opulence of it, the space, the view—George was used to extravagance, but not this much.