Arabesque

Battu

George kicked his feet into the air as he was dragged back by his arms, baring his teeth at the hip-hip dancer still. Despite the uncomfortable grit of his molars against each other, his expression refused to change. Sapnap also pulled against his restraints, which were Skeppy and a6d, who'd hooked their arms under Sap's own. The same was happening to the Brit, though with Dream and Bad. He realized that they were probably trying to reach him when the haze of anger subsided just slightly enough to ease the ringing in his ears.

"George, what the hell—" He turned to glare at Dream, venom dripping from his words.

"So now you can hold onto me?"

"George!" Bad admonished, the taller giving a short, curt nod to Dream before the danseur found himself hoisted up into familiar arms; though not for a routine this time.

"What the crap, dude? What was that?!" Skeppy exclaimed from across the room, having obvious trouble holding on to the other dancer with no height advantage.

"Dream, let me down, right now." George was sure Dream could feel his heart beating, with their proximity. His anger was giving way to something else, a certain few bugs hatching from cocoons in his stomach. Butterflies. The closeness made him dizzy, suddenly, and he pounded a flat hand against the taller boy's chest, only for it to be caught and stilled by one of Dream's larger hands. Unwilling to look the American in the eyes, his gaze traveled to where Bad was moving to help Skeppy and a6d. Neither of them was having any more success in containing the fury of the headband-wearing Texan.

"Sorry, Sapnap!" George grinned — although it was more akin to a sneer — as Bad swept Sapnap up with a shriek, apologizing. "Now; will you muffins be civil?"

The two opposing dancers locked eyes before looking away, both nodding towards the floor.

"Don't let go of George—" Bad began, though Dream interrupted him.

"—don't let go of Sap—" he paused. The two giants came to a silent understanding.

"They have their fingers crossed." They groaned in unison. Guiltily, George unhooked said fingers, caught red-handed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw 'Sapnap' do the same.

"Wha' ze fuck is wrong with you two?" A6d piped up, only receiving a 'language!' from Bad. "French!"

"This oil-loving American dick spilled his drink on me, stole my studio, took my water bot—"

"—this crumpet-dunking bitch bumped into me, barged in on me, stole my water bottle—"

"Oh my god." Dream interrupted the cacophony of voices, and although the threat of violence was gone, still held George snug against him, like some kind of bizarre, oversized teddy bear. Bad had already let go of the hip-hop dancer, who was studying them with narrowed eyes. Quickly, George scrambled down, now without too much resistance. He ignored the slightly wounded look Dream sent him, brushing himself off. "One at a time, guys."

Both opened their mouths to go, glaring at one another.

"Okaaaay, that's not going to work. Sap, you first."

"This twink," George bristled, a sharp retort on the top of his tongue until it was buried by the dancer's tirade. "he wasn't looking where he was going, Dan into me, knocked my drink out of my hand, and basically splashed it all over himself. Like an idiot." He stressed.

"Without the insults, Sap." The reprimand was softened slightly by a little smirk, something that had the butterflies in George'a stomach dropping like weights, and the red-eyed monster turning green quickly. He shifted on his feet awkwardly, ignoring Dream's side-eye.

"Well, then I claimed a studio, maybe without looking at the list, but I was in there! And he just barged in on me, all entitled! And then he stole my water bottle." He finished.

"My water bottle, actually. You took it. My turn, Houston." George crosses his arms over his chest, irritation building at his temples. "You were on your phone, and you bumped into me, spilled your drink, and then just walked past without even an apology! Then, you disregarded the studio lists, and stole my room. And then you took my water bottle. Case made, trial over, guilty verdict for you."

To add insult to injury, the Brit stuck his tongue out.

"Well." Bad began. "I'm Bad, it's nice to meet you, uh, sipnip?"

The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a—

Wheeze, apparently, since that's what Dream began to do.

"Sip— sipnip, oh my god, oh my god—"

George himself was surprised when a small giggle escaped him. When it turned into a train of them, he was even more so. Soon, almost everyone but Bad was gasping for air. When they'd finally wiped their eyes, he spoke up again.

"So— I'm guessing that's not right?"

And back to their shallow lungs they went.

—

The tension definitely isn't gone yet, but it's relieved for now! ;D <3

Comments and constructive criticism welcome!