Chapter Text
A/N: I was inspired by several other writers to work on this story, and also a dream (pun totally intended) I had the other night. Literally stopped reading mid book because I HAD to get to writing. Also, quick heads up: This is entirely meant to be for entertainment only and not to be taken seriously. I love both Dream and George, and wholly support their choices-- If they express discomfort with being shipped or with fan art or fanfics being written about them, this will immediately be deleted.
I will try to update when I can (quarantine is messsssing with my schedule) and just so you know, I am completely making up my description of Dream. He has chosen to protect his identity (for good reason and I fully respect his decision) and so I'm totally BSing the whole thing. With no further ado, enjoy!
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Stepping off the plane, he was relived to be hit with an immense amount of wonderful air conditioning. Even on the brief walk through the jet bridge he had begun to sweat; It was hot as all hell at a sweltering 82 degrees Fahrenheit. But onward George trekked to retrieve his suitcase from baggage claim.
The brightly lit and very colorful airport was packed full of people, many of which were sporting Disney t-shirts and Mickey-Mouse ears. In passing, George noticed two Disney shops, which he was confused by-- Why would you shop for Disney merchandise at the airport instead of at the park itself?-- and hurriedly shoved through the hoards of humans in his way.
When the short brunette had finally gotten his hands on his suitcase, he pulled out his phone to text his ride.
George : are you here?
Clay: Yep. I'm outside, by number 7. I drive a silver Subaru.
George: ok
George steeled himself for the humidity and headed out into the bright, clear day in Orlando, attempting to find Clay's silver Subaru. In all honesty, George had no idea what a Subaru looked like, which correlated perfectly and irritatingly with the fact that he had no idea what the driver looked like either.
Blonde hair, look for blonde hair.
Soon the young Brit was stood beneath the purple sign for number 7, peering through the crowd to try and find a silver Subaru, any silver Subaru. Unfortunately, at least three silver cars were parked on the curb, and all of their windows were tinted too dark for him to pick out his blonde buddy's hair.
"Shit," He muttered. "This is wonderful."
On the verge of giving up, George started to pull out his phone again, not sure if he was going to google what a Subaru looked like or if he was going to call Clay.
"Hey!"
The brunette jumped violently at the familiar voice and snapped his head up, suddenly locking eyes with a grinning, tan, blonde boy, behind the wheel of a silver SUV.
"I'm over here. Haven't you ever seen a Subaru? I thought you were colorblind, not legally blind."
"Shut up and let me in. I'm sweating my ass off out here."
Wheezing out a laugh, Clay popped the trunk on his car and hopped out to help George put his bags away. George blinked, not having expected him to be so tall.
And so cute.
As soon as the blue suitcase was loaded up, George yanked the car door open and climbed in, wanting and needing some relief from the hot weather. It was very different than Britain, and so far he was not a fan.
The sound of Clay shutting his door caught Georges attention, and he turned to look at him, really look at him, for the first time. Clay had shaggy, dirty blonde hair, all awry atop his head. There seemed to be a permanent smile attached to his tanned face, his lips stretched across straight white teeth, which gave him dimples on both sides of his mouth. His nose was covered in scattered freckles, thin, and a little crooked, as if it had been broken and never healed quite right. And his eyes were confusing-- Of course, George couldn't see color exactly the same as everyone else, so everything after yellow was just... Darker yellow. So the fact that Clay's eyes were something between yellow and blue was odd. They were still leaning towards yellow, but they weren't quite the same as all the other colors in the world.
In short, George was transfixed.
But when Clay's face started to move closer, it snapped the Brit out of his little world and brought him back into reality.
"So great to finally meet you in person, dude!" The blonde engulfed his friend in a huge, tight hug, leaning over the center console of the car.
George smiled and returned the embrace, before leaning back and shaking his head. "You're quite a bit taller than I would have thought."
"And you're quite a b--"
A car horn bleated from behind them, making George jump.
"Yeah, yeah," Clay chuckled as he threw the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. "Put on your seatbelt, buddy. We got a bit of a drive to my place."
"Ah, alright," Attempting to blink away the odd feeling of shock at seeing his best friend for the first time, the brunette clipped his seatbelt into place and looked out the windshield. It gave him a little anxiety to sit where the driver should be, but he had known this would be the case and prepped himself by taking a dramamine when he got off the flight. Driving had always given him anxiety as it was, but sitting in the drivers seat and being out of control of the car nearly gave him a panic attack. "Jesus, slow down!"
"I'm only going ten over."
"Ten too many! Slow down!"
"You've been here five minutes and you're already making demands," The blonde rolled his green eyes, but eased off the gas just a bit.
Silence fell between them. George wasn't sure how to feel-- There was some kind of electricity in the air. It felt heavy. Perhaps it was because he was seeing the embodiment of this familiar voice for the first time? Or, more likely, because Clay didn't coincide with the image of Clay in George's head. George had for some reason always pictured Clay to have shorter hair, and just.. Not so tall. It frustrated him, to always be the short one.
"Are you excited to see Florida?" Clay questioned, breaking the silence. The brits brown eyes darted to his companion before he looked out the window to his left.
"I'm excited to get a personal tour of the area," He smiled lightly, watching tall, skinny palm trees fly by. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, and everything seemed so open. Accustomed to the tight-knit streets of England cities, George was awe-struck by the wide stretches of nothing but trees and car-packed roads, as they left the hustle and bustle of Orlando behind them. "How come it's so damn hot here?"
"It's not that hot, it's just humid. It's gonna rain tonight, that'll cool things off." The blonde commented, a shrug in his tone.
"Rain?" A frown fluttered across George's face, as he doubted such clear skies could entail a rainy evening.
"Aren't you used to rain?"
"It doesn't actually rain that often in the UK."
"Well it rains pretty often here."
"It's lovely that the first in-person conversation we're having is about the weather. How bland." George chuckled, turning to look at Clay. Clay smiled at his comment.
"What would you rather talk about?"
"...What're your plans for this week?" George said after a moment of thought.
"First I'm gonna get you set up at my place. I have a Murphy bed in my office, since it's technically the guest room, so that's where you'll be sleeping. Then I think I'm gonna take you to lunch at this bar on the beach a few miles south of my apartment. Great fish tacos."
"God, if it ever gets out that you 'took me to lunch,' the fans will have a mental breakdown."
Clay wheezed. "It's not a date, George, don't worry. There's no donos pressuring you to tell me you love me here."
"Thank God."
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George was not excited to set foot in the humidity again, but it was only a meter or two to the door of Clay's flat. The building was, like most things, pale yellow, and it stretched far down the parking lot. The roof was a dark brown stucco. Eyeing the rickety-looking wooden stairs, George cautiously crawled out of the SUV. Clay was already heaving George's blue suitcase out of the trunk.
"If I didn't know any better I would've thought you brought your whole damn PC," The Floridian huffed. "What the hell did you pack, man?"
"I sort of just threw all my summer clothes in. And my laptop." George laughed.
"Christ," Clay muttered, setting down the suitcase at the top of the stairs and pulling his key ring out of his pocket to unlock the door.
Inside, George began to look around. There was a small entry-way area, a few pairs of shoes piled under a long and low table. To the side of that was a door-less doorway that led to the tiny kitchen. There was a rattan table with three chairs placed haphazardly around it, directly beside a massive fridge that was embedded into the wall. The counters were spotless, other than a small dish-drying rack next to the sink. Just past the pantry, which was to the right of the sink, was a white sliding door.
Clay carefully pushed past George and slid the white door open, rolling Georges suitcase behind him. The brit silently followed suit, and found himself gaping at the size of the living room.
The ceilings were much higher than he would have expected form an apartment, and there was somehow enough room for both a couch and a love seat, stationed in the shape of an L in juxtaposition to the back wall, which dissolved entirely into a sliding glass door that opened up to a balcony. On the wall facing the long grey couch was a mounted flatscreen, and beside it was a set of two doors. One was open, through which George could see a desk with a formidable PC setup. That was the room Clay entered next.
"Alrighty," The Floridian said, turning to George once the Brit had followed him into the guest room. "Welcome to my humble home. That--" He pointed to yet another white door, on the wall to the left. "--Is the bathroom. I hope you don't mind sharing."
"Not at all," George shook his head. Clay was being incredibly accommodating, by paying for his flight to Florida and letting him stay in his flat. George was very grateful, no matter the situation.
"Cool. Sorry my setup is taking up a bunch of your space. The bed's over there, and you saw the kitchen. There's not much else to it." Another sparkling smile broke out across Clay's face, and George felt his heart stutter at the sight. It was so odd to be able to see the man behind the voice that he knew so well. But, of course, staring was rude, and so he needed to stop gawking.
"Thank you," George smiled back gently.
"No problem! I'm super excited to have you here." Clay moved forward and grabbed George in a hug once more. This time, George was assaulted by the smell of apples and cinnamon, and he faltered for a moment before returning the warm and comfortable embrace.
After a moment, which for some reason felt longer than it should have, Clay stepped back. Before he could speak, though, George piped up.
"Did you have apple pie for breakfast or something?"
"What?" Clay blinked, frowning in confusion.
"You smell like apple pie. Or apple juice and cinnamon. Or.. something." Realizing how weird he sounded, George's voice trailed off.
"Oh," The Floridian considered this for a moment, before smiling again. "No, I didn't. Although I did buy a gallon of apple juice, since I know you like it."
"I would love a glass of apple juice right now," George grinned brightly, attempting to ignore the light blush that came to his cheeks at how considerate Clay was. "It's so hot outside I think I could chug the whole thing in one go."
"I dare you to try it."
"Fucking watch me, then!"
Laughing, the two young men marched to the kitchen.
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"Christ, it's absolutely pouring." George murmured, sitting out on the balcony and watching the rain come down in sheets.
"Yeah. Hopefully it's not to wet outside for our adventure tomorrow."
"We'll be outside?" George gave him a nervous sideways glance.
"Well, yeah. It's meant to be great out, in the 90's I think."
"I'll have a heat stroke!"
"You'll be fine."
George huffed at this and returned his gaze to the rainy evening. The sun was just passing beneath the horizon.
His stomach growled.
"We ate, like, two hours ago! How are you hungry?" Clay laughed, incredulous.
"I have a fast metabolism," George chuckled, smiling at him. "I'll just have some apple juice and I'll be fine."
"If you say so," The blonde shrugged. "I'm gonna put on a movie, I think. Whaddya want to watch?"
"I dunno, I don't watch a lot of movies."
"Star Wars?"
"Sounds perfect."
And so they headed inside to watch Star Wars together. But, jet lag weighed on George, and he quickly drifted off, leaning his head onto Clay's shoulder and snoring lightly.
Clay was frozen.
He wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do at this point.
George was curled up against his side, fast asleep. The movie was over and the credits were rolling.
And Clay despised the idea of getting up.
Ever since their first video collaboration, Clay had admired George. It had gotten more complicated when Clay saw George's first face reveal, as he realized suddenly that George was very attractive, and Clay hadn't anticipated feeling the way he did. But, as time went on, Clay accepted his feelings, and simply lived with it. He made do with playful, friendly flirting and joking around. He did what he could to act like the wasn't actually attracted to George and play it off as fun and games for the fans.
But now that George was really here, it was getting much much harder to ignore his emotions.
And his immense urge to kiss the top of George's head, carry him to his room, and tuck him into bed.
He doesn't feel the same. He doesn't feel the same, Clay chanted mentally. Wake him up and tell him to go to bed. Don't do anything stupid and fuck up the friendship.
But he just couldn't bring himself to open his mouth.
He didn't want to ruin this moment; It felt so perfect to have George's slender frame pressed against his own, and he was worried George would be embarrassed for having fallen asleep on him.
Then, just as Clay was about to speak in attempts to rouse his friend, George jumped, his brown eyes flying open as he gasped.
"Shit, what was that?" The Floridian blinked, shocked.
"I--" George stared at him in confusion for a second, before he seemed to recognize Clay. "I had one of those things where you fall in your dream."
"Oh," A laugh shook Clay's shoulders. "Alright then. Well, the uh, the movie's over. I'm going to bed, it's pretty late now. See you in the morning, yeah?"
"Yeah," George yawned. "See you in the morning."
With that, Clay retreated to his room and shut the door.
Lord, you have got to be kidding me. What the hell am I supposed to do now?