Absolutely, 100%, completely, not allowed. (Dream x Reader)

Chapter 9 - If I see the opportunity,

You gasped in surprise as you saw a furry little head peek around the door, pushing it open a little bit.

"Baby!" You said excitedly, holding your arms out for Patches. You pushed your laptop out of the way as the feline hopped onto your bed. She curled her body against your hip. Not long after, you felt the pulsing sensation course through the cat and into your side. You scratched the top of her head and cooed lightly at her as she purred into you.

Your door was pushed open fully, squeaking as it did so, and you glared at the boy entering. It was your brother.

"Dinner's almost here. We just ordered for you, because you're indecisive and all."

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. "Thanks. What am I getting?"

"Chipotle. Your usual, if it's still the same as it used to be."

"It is," You commented, pulling yourself into an upright position. As if you'd ever change your order.

George laughed. "You know, Clay'll get pissed if he sees that you're stealing his cat."

"Clay is, in fact, aware, and also threatened to follow us back to England if he notices that she's missing." Thinking about it, that wasn't such a bad idea. Clay coming to the U.K.? I mean, it'd only be fair for him to travel as well.

George shook his head. "Please don't steal Patches, Y/N."

You groaned. "Fine. Only because you said 'please.'"

"Dinner!" Clay shouted from the living room.

George's head perked up, and so did Patches'. She stood up, did the little upside-down-u stretch that cats do after they nap, and bounded out of the room to see what her owner was yelling about.

You stood too, once both were out of the room. You grabbed a black sweatshirt off the floor, assuming it was the Dream merch you'd brought from home. After putting it on, you realized that it was actually the sweatshirt that Clay had let you borrow the night before. You rolled your eyes. You weren't about to change it, so you walked out of the room.

Clay's eyes met yours, and then dropped to his hoodie, raising one eyebrow at you. His expression was unreadable. His eyes shot back up to yours and his head tilted back, just enough to show off his sharp jawline. You were standing there, just waiting for him to point it out. Waiting for him to say something; anything.

George was standing right next to you, but didn't notice. You were starting to realize how oblivious he was to most things. You thought that he'd bring it up to you. It was obvious how you and Clay acted around each other. Was he letting it slide, or was he just unaware?

The doorbell rang, interrupting the silence that was blooming in the room.

"Hey, George, could you answer that?" Clay asked. "I was going to go get us some drinks."

"Sure, no problem." George said, leaving the room.

As he paced toward the front door, Clay walked over to you, turned you around, and lightly pushed you out of the room, toward where you believed the garage was. You let him lead you there, presuming that's where the drinks were, and that he wanted some help grabbing them.

You were wrong.

Once the door closed, you stumbled back as you were suddenly pressed firmly into it, feet almost failing to work. Clay was clutching your waist, holding you there. Your eyes were wide and you had grabbed onto his shirt as you fumbled to stay upright. His face was just inches away from yours. Hello, there.

"You're making it really hard to stay away from you, y'know?" He said, green eyes boring into yours.

"What?" You breathed out.