Archive of Our Own

The last thing George wants to do right now is fly to fucking Turkey. 

It’s been months of complete social media silence aside from a few minor things, like Tik Toks or mentions on streams. He hasn’t worked, or gone to the gym, or even left the house with very few exceptions here and there. 

All he wants is to stay home, where it’s comfortable and peaceful if you don’t count Sapnap’s incessant screaming. 

He wants to hang out on Dream’s daybed in his office, scrolling different apps or listening to the sound of his best friend’s breathing in the familiar way he learned back in London. 

Or— husband, he mentally corrects himself. His husband.

Even just thinking about the word, George blushes in the empty room while he shoves clothes into a suitcase, surely getting wrinkled so Dream scolds him when they get there. 

It’s too hard to fold clothes. George doesn’t care if he looks messy—and besides, Dream will definitely iron them when they get to the Airbnb for a good show. If he doesn’t, well, George will force him to. 

They’re only in this position because Dream got them into it, anyway. 

He promised he’d visit for their “anniversary” way back when, before they thought anything of it, but now it’s just about time to visit and George’s family made sure they knew it. 

They pushed and nagged and bugged the couple to join their family vacation to Turkey until finally, Dream agreed. He feels like it’s stupid marital duty or something to see them, especially that they technically eloped in their families’ eyes. 

When they agreed to get married to get George to the U.S., they thought it would be easy. It was easy, at least for a little while. 

Interviews were easy since they knew more about each other than most people and even with less evidence than most when considering pictures or living together, Dream had been planning for years. He had proof of everything they could have possibly needed to make a fake marriage happen after being denied his visa. 

They both had conditions though, to make this work. 

At least two years of being married, staying loyal even in their fake marriage, and keeping it a secret. 

The term secret is a loose one. 

Don’t tell Sapnap about the green card, don’t tell fans anything, and don’t tell their families that it’s not real.

So the predicament lies—Sapnap doesn’t know they’re married at all, while the three of them are flying to Turkey with George’s family, who all think they’re married. Like, really married. 

It makes George want to bash his head into a wall, if he’s being completely honest. 

Like what is he meant to do? 

Option one: they have to come clean to Sapnap but as much as they’re best friends, bro can’t keep a secret. Sure, he’s good at keeping things from chat, but he’s not great at keeping his mouth shut with people he trusts. 

Option two: tell Sapnap they’re married and don’t tell him it was for the green card. Will he even believe that? They’d have to keep up the bit then, all the time—and what the hell does that entail? Arms wrapped around one another, stupid heart eyes at each other, lips connecting every once in a while. Sapnap will question them, surely. This will be infinitely more difficult than the stupid interviews for the green card. 

The first option isn’t the worst, but if his family finds out it’s all fake, they might just grab him by his hair and drag him back to the UK after outing their marriage as fraud.

Option two… is an option. It sucks and they’d have to get their stories straight, create boundaries, and lie their assess off, but they’d be safe. Even if Sapnap finds out it’s fake after the fact, he’ll be pissed but he wouldn’t ever expose them. Not purposely, at least. Sharing Dream’s bed also wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It’s more comfortable than his own by far, and it’s big. George loves Dream’s bed. 

A knock at the door interrupts his thoughts as the door opens slightly, exposing a curly head of hair and sleepy eyes. “Hey,” Dream says, opening the door fully when he sees George sitting on the floor. 

Dream lets himself in and sits next to George with a huff, pulling out all the clothes already stuffed into the luggage and starting to fold them. “They’re already packed, moron,” George says. 

Scoffing, Dream rolls his eyes and puts a few folded shirts into the empty luggage. “This isn’t packing,” Dream says.

There’s a moment of silence and something about it feels tense. Maybe it’s that they’re going to have to pretend to be married in less than twenty-four hours for the first time since they went to see Dream’s family for Christmas last year. That wasn’t as much pressure. 

His family hadn’t really expected them to be super comfortable in one another’s spaces yet so the quietness and more friendly dynamic between them hadn’t been a surprise. But now? George’s family is surely going to expect them to be like a typical, married couple that hold hands and kiss each other and—and all that lovey dovey crap that George can’t stand. 

To be fair, they’re… more than typical friends in a lot of different aspects of their lives. They touch more than most friends do, and they don’t really have their own space rather have a combined space. But although they may touch and love each other a bit differently than in most usual friendships, there are things they don’t do.

Will they have to kiss? Like, really kiss? George doesn’t want that. Well, he doesn’t not want that, but he doesn’t want that. Right? He would kiss Dream, easily, but will Dream want to kiss him? Surely not. They’re friends. 

Is it weird that George would kiss Dream? 

No. It’s not. They’re married. 

The whole word is getting to George’s head. 

He wants to kiss his husband. 

That’s allowed, or it should be. 

George shakes his head, forcing the confusing thoughts out of his head at the same time Dream speaks up. “Are you ready for this?” 

“No,” George replies with ease, not bothering to sugarcoat it. Dream knows him too well for that anyway. “I’m really fucking nervous.” 

Dream nods, trembling fingers still working on the same shirt. “Me too.” 

George huffs and pulls it from his hand, leaving it on the floor. “Talk to me,” George tells him now that they’re facing one another. 

He hates that he’s responsible for such unease in Dream’s eyes. His confident best friend is rarely nervous, so knowing it’s because of him makes his heart ache.

“What are we gonna do about Nick?” Dream asks quietly, eyes diverting to the shirt on the floor. “If we tell him the truth—”

“We’re going to tell him we’re married,” George says, cocksure. He’s already made up his mind. “He doesn’t need to know anything else.” 

Dream frowns and his eyes go glossy, staring through the shirt and not at it, like he’s upset and lost focus. 

George grabs his hand for comfort and to get his attention. “We are married, Dream. That’s not a lie.” 

“I know that.” Dream’s voice is hard but George knows that’s only to keep himself from crying. “We’re married and—and we’re telling Sap, and going to see your family.” 

With nerves and anxious energy, George bites his tongue. He doesn’t tell Dream that it’s his fault they have to go in the first place, or say he got them into this mess over a year ago when he offered a fake marriage. 

He doesn’t say anything at all. 

“Are you gonna put your ring on?” Dream asks, fingers silently playing with the ring finger on his left hand. 

Automatically, George’s hand falls to the ring hanging on his chain. It dangles at the center of his chest, always under his shirt, dangerously slipping out as if wanting to expose their little secret.

He couldn’t possibly have worn it on his finger publicly, not when Dream had his on his finger like no one would notice. 

George actually remembers being shocked that this was the first thing fans didn’t make a big deal out of—a ring on Dream’s left ring finger. He only saw a few comments here and there, but mostly with tags underneath discussing excessive delusions about dnf. 

If only they knew that it was one of the only things they had gotten right when considering the dnf agenda. 

“Yeah, I will when we get there,” George tells him.

“What about when we tell Nick?”

George shrugs, not really knowing what to say. He has a point, but he doesn’t want to wear it in the airport. What if a fan sees them? What if they want a picture? A ring on Dream’s left hand may not raise flags, but a ring on his own left hand might as well be an admission. “I’ll wear it.” 

“Are we gonna have like, rules?” Dream asks. 

“Rules?” George repeats, smirking. It’s not funny, really, but his tone seems to ease Dream at least a little, getting his shoulders to relax with a smile.

“Yes, rules, George,” he says, picking up the shirt again and folding it with steady hands. “Like, if we tell Nick, we’ll have to share a room for a little, right? And we’re sharing a room at the Airbnb.” 

Out of all things to lay out on the table, George is surprised it’s that. They’ve shared a bed before and it’s never mattered, so George says as much. “We’ve shared before.”

“Yeah, we have but like, on accident. It’s never been like—we’ve never actively decided to share a bed. What if this makes things awkward between us? Or—or what if they ask us to kiss? What if we kiss and it’s the worst kiss in the world and they know immediately that we’re not actually married? What—what if—”

“Woah, okay. You’re spiraling, Dream. I—I don’t think we need to be worried,” George tells Dream, though he’s also trying to convince himself of that. “Things aren’t going to be awkward between us. We’re us,” George says. This one thing he actually does believe. 

Dream seems to believe him on that front, too. “Okay, okay, you’re right. I’ve seen your shit before.” Dream laughs, grabbing more clothes and George kicks him.

“You liked it,” George retorts. To be fair, it was one or two times that he sent a picture over Snapchat to Dream and Sapnap. They pissed him off at the time and that was his only comeback. 

“I liked it? Ew, George, what—what is wrong with you?” He asks, giggles developing into a full belly laugh. George can’t help but laugh along with him. 

His best friend’s laughter is contagious and nothing will change that. “Shut up,” George hisses, kicking him again in hopes he’ll stop talking about George’s shit. 

“It’s fine,” Dream tries, still laughing. “It’ll make our marriage more believable. Every good husband should see their husband’s shit.” 

“You’re disgusting.” George stands to get away, collecting a few more pieces of clothing he wants from his dresser. “Stop talking about shit. People will think you have a shit kink.” 

“No,” Dream says, making hands at George to throw him more clothes to fold. “People think you have a shit kink. I have a piss kink.” 

George knows Dream means that everyone thinks he has a piss, but that’s not what he said. So George is going to take this and run with it, so they can stop talking about shit. “Ah, there it is. Dream actually has a piss kink and everyone knew it. I’m telling Twitter,” George says, grabbing his phone with his free hand. 

Dream doesn’t even reply or flinch at George fake tweeting. At least Dream trusts him. “Give me your clothes,” he says, raising his hands again. 

“These are my boxers, I’ll just shove them in the side.” George walks over to sit back down, finding a pocket to shove them in before Dream’s hands stop him.

“Don’t be stupid, idiot, I’ll fold them so you have more room.” Dream doesn’t wait for a reply and grabs the boxers from his hand. 

His cheeks warm at the action, not really sure why he’s embarrassed by Dream touching and seeing his clean boxers. It’s not the first time Dream has seen them—their laundry having gotten mixed together in the past—but something about this context feels a lot more domestic and purposeful. “Besides,” Dream continues, when he notices George’s silence. “I’m your husband. I should know what underwear you have.”

Dream says it as a joke, trying to lighten the tension that’s back and swimming in the air, but it’s a subtle reminder that they’ll be flying to see his mum and dad very soon. “So,” Dream says, letting the word hang awkwardly in the air. “What do you think they’re going to ask us?” 

George shrugs. He hasn’t really thought about it yet. If he lets himself get too far into that thought process, he’ll just circle and circle and circle until he’s winding down a road with no turning back. “Nothing, I guess. They already know the shit I told them when I said we were getting married,” George replies. 

It had been a thought-out story they had both told their families—almost word for word from a script. Mainly truths with a few embellishments of friendship to more, though with a friendship that so closely toed the line, it wasn’t all that difficult. 

“What if they ask me questions?” 

“Tell them the truth,” George says, watching as his last piece of clothing goes into the bag. Dream deadpans at him with a look that screams you’re an idiot. “What?” George asks, not sure what it’s for. 

“What if they ask us about our first kiss or something stupid?” Dream asks. 

George grimaces, hoping that the question never comes up. “They won’t,” George deflects. 

George knows Dream hates this about him. He doesn’t like to pre-worry about things. Instead, George would much rather take things as they come and deal with them as they roll in. Dream on the other hand, likes to worry about every single possible outcome or path a situation can take so he’s not caught off guard when something happens. 

“And if they do?” 

“They won’t,” George argues. 

“George, appease me.” 

George lifts his hands into his hair, running them through the knots to the best of his ability. “I don’t know, Dream, just—just make it up. Who cares?” It’s funny—settling Dream when George is nervous about the same situation. And now Dream is making him worry about things he never even gave thought to. “Dream, you’re—you’re freaking me out.” 

“Well, it’s freaking me out. I’ve never met your parents, not really,” Dream says. “What if I make a bad impression or something?”

That at least makes George roll his eyes. “You won’t make a bad impression, idiot.” Something about the sincerity George says those words with settles something in Dream. “They already love you.”

“That’s bullshit,” Dream says. “They don’t even know me.”

“No, I’m serious.” George tries to convince Dream because out of all the unknowns, this is not one of them. His parents love Dream. “They love you because they know I love you, and you changed my life, whether or not our marriage is a real marriage.” 

For the first time all night, Dream’s body completely relaxes. George can tell by the way his shoulders slump fully forward and his sleepy but wired eyes fall. 

George can’t help but grab his hand again, squeezing tightly to hopefully provide Dream any kind of comfort. “We got married because we love each other, Dream. Neither of us would have done this with anyone else.” George drives the point home. 

“I know,” Dream whispers, leaning his shoulder into George’s. “This is just—it’s too important. I don’t want to screw it up.” 

George leans into Dream’s shoulder, too, reciprocating. “I promise you won’t screw anything up. Besides, we don’t ever screw up when we’re working together.” 

They both laugh, damn well knowing that’s not true, but it kind of is. Even their screwed up challenges, ones that went so poorly they never posted, were fun. Any arguments they’ve had ended up with working through it and learning from their mistakes. 

Sitting in silence and Dream’s head falling to lean on George’s, George is actually convinced Dream had fallen asleep before the man sleepily mumbles sleepily. “So, we have to tell Sapnap tonight, huh?” 

“Yeah,” George breathes, a hand coming up to scratch at the nape of Dream’s neck. “He’ll be fine.” 

The words do nothing to convince either of them, completely unsure if that’s actually true, but they both take it and run with it anyway. “I’ll order that place he likes and then we can tell him over dinner,” Dream says, talking about that hole in the wall Korean Barbeque restaurant that’s actually fire. 

George knows better than to argue or disagree, especially when he gets free dinner out of the deal. “Sounds good,” George tells him, watching the other slowly walk out of the room. 

It’s not even thirty minutes before Dream texts their group chat to come downstairs for dinner. 

His heart thuds harshly in his chest and he takes a breath, steadying himself.

They’re best friends, the three of them. A team. 

Family. Brothers. Or—okay, Sapnap is like their brother. Dream is—well, he’s family too. They’re husbands. 

The thought makes him smile, mind taking him far off, wondering if Sapnap would technically be his brother or brother-in-law. Either way, it doesn’t matter. 

Just the smile from his own thoughts is enough to give him courage. 

At the last minute, George slips the ring onto his finger before hopping down the stairs. 

He finds his seat next to Dream at the kitchen counter, closer than they’d usually sit together with Sapnap but nothing all that unusual in their day to day. 

Their friend doesn’t say anything about their closeness when he comes down, adjusting the hat on his head as he sits and pulls open his styrofoam container. 

Dream goes in for the kill immediately, not even waiting until the first piece of chicken is in Sapnap’s mouth. 

“Sap, we have to tell you something,” Dream says. 

George’s mouth goes dry and he tries to say something, even just to make a joke and cut the seriousness of the words, but comes up blank. 

“Uh,” Sapnap says through his mouth full of food. “Okay?”

“Me and George are married,” Dream rushes out, barely saying the words in a way that Sapnap can understand. 

At first, Sapnap looks like he’s confused. It’s almost like he’s trying to process the words that Dream has said. Then, he bursts out laughing. “What the fuck?” He snorts, shaking his head and picking up another piece of food. “What the hell kind of prank is this? Are you recording me?” 

George rolls his eyes, annoyed by their friend looking around for a hidden camera, but he notices Dream’s furrowed brows that show he’s actually upset. Instinctually, George puts his hand on Dream’s arm, rubbing back and forth with his thumb. 

Sapnap’s eyes dart to the touch and the humor falls from his face, flashing between uneasiness and hurt. 

“It was—it was—” Dream starts, voice getting tight before he cuts himself off to look back at George. “It was for the visa, at first,” Dream explains. 

Chest getting tight and grip hardening on Dream’s arm, George doesn’t even want to hear what Dream is about to say next.

They agreed not to tell him that it was for the green card. That it wasn’t because George needed to get to the U.S., but because they fucking love each other or whatever the hell they had agreed on. 

“At… first?” Sapnap asks then, eyebrows raised. His eyes seem to have trouble finding a place to land, skimming between Dream and George and where they’re pressed together. 

George can’t help but pull away when his eyes look toward them. 

“Yeah, like… it had always been something we talked about, right? We made jokes about it all the time,” Dream says. 

“Yeah and we even considered George marrying me,” Sapnap tells him, disgust on his face. George’s face pinches with distaste too, fake gagging over Dream’s shoulder. They both roll their eyes. “But he said no,” Sapnap says a moment later, softer tone like he’s had a small realization. 

“But you suck,” George tells Sapnap. “And you stink. I didn’t want to marry—”

“George,” Dream warns, elbowing him gently. Seeing the direction Dream is going in, George sighs and lets the man finish his story. Their story. Whatever story. He relents and presses himself against Dream’s shoulder again. “We just—we love each other,” Dream says, shrugging. 

Although George didn’t even say the words, his face starts to warm even more, blush deepening on his face. He hates being emotionally vulnerable, so he tucks his face into Dream’s shoulder slightly to avoid Sapnap’s eyes on him. 

“This makes…” Sapnap pauses, “so much sense.” 

It takes every ounce of self-discipline George has in his body to not react. Sapnap thinks it makes sense? Why? How does it make sense? 

He doesn’t react but he does feel Dream tense below him, just a bit, and he figures Dream is thinking the same thing as him. Or, is at least as confused as George is. 

George has always thought they were different than they were with anyone else, sure, but it’s always been different, hasn’t it? 

Back in the UK, George let himself cry to Dream over Discord. He called Dream with every bit of bad news, and good, even when Sapnap was in his apartment. George called Dream for company overnight when he couldn’t sleep, and would play old videos when Dream wasn’t around. 

Dream was different with George, too. Even with Sapnap as a roommate, George was almost always the one to know Dream’s whereabouts. Dream would edit George’s videos but for no one else, and he’d ask for coding help even when he didn’t need it just to stay on the phone. 

There was a push and pull between them, always.

Something about the way they knew exactly what each other wanted, or needed. How they were feeling by the sound of one breath or even just by the way the silence settled in the air. 

Honestly, George was expecting to go away once they met. Fake marriage, living together in a house with Sapnap, being able to go out and fly to LA or the Bahamas or New York. 

But no, their dynamics stayed the same and bloomed. 

No more overnight calls, rather just knocking out on the couch during a movie and waking up together. Eating dinner together in one of their offices, sitting in the hot tub on chilly nights, silently spending time together while each of them do work. 

They leaned on one another, both literally and figuratively, supporting each other but also being a shoulder to cry on. 

They’d only been called insufferable by every single one of their friends. 

Yet, this still shocks George. It makes sense? It makes sense they’re married and in love? What an idiot. Sapnap is an idiot. 

“It… does?” Dream asks quietly, and George laughs quietly under his breath before lifting his head to look at Sapnap, who just continues to eat like them being married isn’t a huge bomb of information.

The youngest nods. “Yeah,” Sapnap shrugs. “I mean, you guys are all over each other.” George actually almost protests but when Sapnap motions toward the pair, George leans away as he notices how close to each other they are. “I just wish you would’ve told me sooner.” 

George frowns, knowing that although true, they didn’t for good reason.

“We just—we wanted to make sure it would work, you know?” Dream asks.

Sapnap nods, looking back down at his plate. “I know, I’m sure—I’m sure there was a good reason for it,” Sapnap says, very maturely for once. “I feel bad that you’ve been hiding it from me for so long, but honestly? You guys kind of suck at keeping secrets—everyone knows you’re together.” 

George grimaces and makes a face as if to say yeah right, but Sapnap seems to be telling the truth. He’s not even looking at them as he eats his meal, picking at the food and shoveling it in quickly. 

Dream scoffs, leaning into George with his back. “Not everyone,” Dream mutters. 

And… that’s it. 

Sapnap acts like nothing has changed, and so do Dream and George. It’s stupid. It’s like, so stupid that Sapnap doesn’t seem to care or even flinch at the news. 

George almost forgets anything has changed, to be honest.

They all hang in the living room, half-assed watching a show in the living room and scrolling on their phones until George’s lids are fighting to stay open. 

Eventually, he puts his phone down and stops trying, letting his eyes close with his phone on his chest. 

It’s Dream that shakes him awake, a weird look on his face when he does. “Georgie,” he whispers. “Time to go up.”

George groans and swats his hand away. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” He’s too sleepy to get up right now. All he wants is to stay in his warm and comfortable spot on their couch, even knowing he’ll regret it in the morning. 

“No idiot,” Dream says. “Come up to bed.” 

The way Dream says it forces George to open his eyes again and study Dream’s features closely. “Wh—” 

“Sapnap said we can stop being idiots and finally go to bed together,” Dream says, eyes wide. Fear, maybe, or determination, or—something. 

Ah, fuck. 

What do they do? Share a room? A bed? No, surely not a bed. No. 

“I’m tired,” George says weakly, lifting his head to find Sapnap tiredly getting off the couch. 

“Get up, George, I’m fucking tired.” Sapnap walks past him and whacks his shoulder on his way.  

George scrunches his face, whacking him back before he’s fully out of range. “Go without me, moron, why are you waiting?” 

Sapnap rolls his eyes, turning back to nudge his legs again. Classic Sapnap, needing to get the last shove. Too bad George is just as stubborn. He kicks Sapnap’s thigh. 

“Because I need your stupid boyfriend or—or husband or whatever the fuck to come help me with something, so get your ass up,” he says, tripping up on boyfriend and husband. 

Even though he said it had seemed obvious this entire time, it’s still a big change, so that’s fair. 

“George, let’s go,” Dream says, gripping at his smaller wrist. 

Dream uses the tone George knows better than to argue with so after a moment, he relents. He climbs slowly up the stairs, like he’s trying not to reach his destination, but sooner or later reaches the top. 

He follows Dream to his room, shutting the door tightly behind him and whispering angrily. “What the fuck, Dream?” 

The taller holds his hands up defensively. “Listen, Sapnap was just like—he—I don’t know, George. We knew this would happen,” he says back. “I’m gonna go help him. Just like—just get into bed. You’ll be asleep before I even come back. It’s not like we haven’t shared before.” 

Oh, he’s so nonchalant. Dream is so casual about sharing a bed. He’s also extremely aloof, thinking that George will be able to fall asleep in a new place without company—relatively new to sleep in, at least. There’s a reason he’s always sharing a room with someone when they go on trips together. 

And yes, Dream is right. They’ve shared a bed before; multiple times, actually, but never like this. Never with someone knowing they’ll fall asleep together and wake up together, on purpose.

“You know I can’t—” Dream slips past him to open the door. “Dream!”

He doesn’t stay to hear George’s complaints before the door closes again in his face, right after whispering “just stay here!”

Ugh. 

What the hell is wrong with Dream? What is he even meant to do? He doesn’t have clothes to sleep in, he doesn’t have his phone charger—nothing. He has nothing. 

He pulls his phone from his pocket, sitting on the edge of the bed.

i hate you, he types in his messages to Dream and sends it before flopping onto his back, looking around the room. 

You know what? While he’s here, he might as well do some snooping. 

Okay… not actual snooping. 

To be fair, George is in here all the time. If he wanted to snoop, he would have done so already. 

What George will do, though, is go through his shit to find something more comfortable to sleep in than what he’s wearing and tuck himself into Dream’s side of the bed so he can plug in his phone. 

He goes to the drawers he already knows, flipping through some of Dream’s shirts to pull out one of his favorites. It’s a light gray sleep shirt Dream definitely thrifted a while ago but it’s so soft, George can’t help but gravitate toward Dream when he wears it. 

Without another choice, George just… gets into Dream’s bed. He gets under the covers, phone plugged in, and presses around on the TV remote until he finds a movie he’s seen enough times to close his eyes to, and Dream won’t absolutely despise when he comes in. 

This is like any other time they’ve fallen asleep in a shared space together. It doesn’t matter that this is the first time they’re choosing to share, or that Sapnap knows they’re married now.

It takes a long time for Dream to come back, so long that George actually starts to feel his eyelids fall with exhaustion against his will, even with the lights on and in Dream’s bed. 

Dream comes in many hours later, quietly but George still stirs. George manages a sleepy glare but nothing more after getting woken up. He guesses it doesn’t matter anymore, considering George has made himself comfortable in Dream’s spot and fallen asleep. 

“Hey,” Dream whispers, tucking himself in next to George easily. 

If George were any more awake, he’d roll his eyes but doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he can’t help but roll onto his shoulder to face his friend. “Hey,” George murmurs back.

“Sorry, it was harder than I thought it was gonna be. He wanted it done before his surgery and I felt like we owed him tonight,” Dream says. 

Fair, in all honesty—after the bomb they dropped. Besides, only Dream had to help but it was George’s bomb too, so he was a winner in all of this. 

George nods against the pillow. “’m in your spot.” 

Dream scoffs, laughing. “Really? I couldn’t tell,” Dream jokes back. 

“Not moving,” George says then. 

“Wasn’t asking you to,” Dream says.

George smiles and can’t help but laugh. “Simp.”

Even with his eyes closed, George is sure he can hear Dream roll his eyes with a sigh. 

It’s not a final sigh—it hangs in the air. George is sure Dream wants to say something but there’s a tense silence hanging over them. 

The longer the quiet stretches, the more awake George feels. 

What if he’s going to say something bad? Or that he already slipped up and told Sapnap? It’s possible. Dream isn’t the best at keeping secrets, even though he’s kept this one for so long. 

There are things George wants to say too. Is now the time to say them? It might be, but if it’s not, then he’ll be embarrassed. He doesn’t want to overshare and then feel like sharing a bed with Dream tonight is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. 

He could sleep on the floor but he doesn’t want to. Maybe he should force Dream to. It’s only fair, since—

Without any notice, Dream’s left hand comes between them and lands on George’s. Their rings clinks lightly, not making much noise but George can feel the material of them bump when they touch. 

Dream’s hand, adorned by multiple rings but specifically the one that George got for him and pushed onto his finger the day of their wedding, comforts George immensely. He hadn’t even noticed his racing heart or thoughts, but the moment Dream’s hand touches his own, they slow. 

The chaotic and silent noise inside his mind settles, creating an actual serenity in the air. His heart cools down, slowing to a regular rate that helps lean more comfortably into the mattress. 

“You ready for tomorrow?” Dream whispers, barely audible. 

George looks down, finding the shimmer of Dream’s ring from the TV. 

He’s nervous, sure. Anyone in their right mind would be nervous. Going to a new country for the first time, his fake husband meeting his family members and trying to keep up the lie. It’s a lot. 

But it’s Dream. 

Who else could he ever do this with? There’s no one in the world that could get him to be okay with this, but it’s Dream.

Nodding his head, George turns over his hand so their palms can connect. “Yeah,” George whispers as he interlocks their fingers. “We can do this.”

The encouraging words are for Dream as much as they are for himself, but he also means them. 

He thinks they’ll get through this, practically without a hitch. 

Besides, they may not have a real marriage, but everyone thinks they’re together anyway, right?

They click, they always have. They won’t need to pretend or anything, they just need to be themselves. 

George squeezes Dream’s hand with reassurance and they don’t say anything else. 

Dream’s breathing slows after a few minutes and George knows instantly that means he’s asleep, so he tries to follow suit. 

He pushes his worries away and closes his eyes, but as he starts to fall asleep he can’t help the way his mind plays images of Dream leaning in for a kiss in his mind. 

What the fuck? That’s weird. 

It’s like torture, honestly, because George doesn’t even really want that, right? 

Physically, George forces his eyes open and huffs with the shake of his head, as if to force the images out of his head so he can sleep. 

He can’t think about it right now. He can’t focus on the fact that his sleepy mind wanders to kissing Dream, or how forcing himself awake does nothing to stop George from wanting to kiss him. 

No, no, no. 

George can’t let this happen. 

Realizations and shit are not what he needs today, a few hours before they leave for Turkey. 

He forces himself to watch another movie on the screen until he falls asleep, but he never truly does because by the time Dream is getting up to get ready for the airport, George is sleepily staring at the screen and knows the movie’s entire plot. 

They don’t speak but Dream smiles at George as the smaller sits up in bed. Dream passes, ruffling his own hair first and then George’s second as he comes back from brushing his teeth. 

It’s one flash of teeth and one swipe of his tongue across his bottom lip that George curses under his breath. 

Feelings for Dream aren’t new, but he’s never put a word to it. It’s always been shoved to the far corner of his mind, a dark place he never allowed to see the light of day. What is new though, is the way he can’t keep his eyes off Dream’s lips and craves him more than ever. 

He doesn’t even hide his distress as he flops himself dramatically into the pillows, nor does he bother hiding his distress.

“I’m so fucked.” 

—

“Oh my god!” George’s mum yells, running up to the group of three as they walk up to the Airbnb. She doesn’t wait for them to even get to the door, hopping down the steps and to where they’ve just gotten out of the cab. 

She also ignores George completely after yelling out his name, making a beeline to Dream instead. “Dream!” Bea says enthusiastically. 

Dream shoots her a smile and reaches his hand out for her to take but she swats at him, pulling him in for a hug instead.

He’s shocked, George can tell by the look on his face, but only because he knows him so well. Dream hesitates only for a second before reaching around, reciprocating the hug to George’s mother. 

“And you must be Nick,” Bea says, leaning away to shake Sapnap’s hand. 

“Uh, hello? It’s me, George,” he says sarcastically, waving at his mum to get her attention. “Remember? Your only son?” 

Bea grins at him, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she pulls him into a hug to greet him. “Well, that’s not quite true anymore, is it?” she asks. 

At first, George flinches from their hug, confused to no end. She looks at Dream, teeth shining with a wide smile, more excited than George has ever seen her. “Welcome to the family, Dream,” Bea says, pulling them both into a group hug this time, and then tugs Sapnap in a second later. “And Nick, you know you’re family, too.” 

Nick laughs and makes a dumb joke, saying how he has to be a stepson of sorts, rather than a son-in-law. In any other situation, George would have kicked him for saying something so stupid in front of his mother, but he’s only grateful for the dumb remark. 

He’s good at breaking the awkward tension in the air, for George at least and probably Dream too, considering he’s not sure if anyone else feels the uncomfortableness settling around them. 

There’s only one moment of too-long silence before Bea ushers them inside, showing them around the villa they’ll be staying in for the next two weeks.

It’s big. Large enough that they won’t all be on top of one another for the trip, Sapnap will be able to get some peace and quiet for his days of recovery, and hopefully Dream and George will get some kind of privacy in their room. Not from each other, of course, but from the rest of George’s family. 

She shows them every room—pointing out Dream and George’s next to Sapnap’s, and takes them upstairs to show them the master suite and George’s sister’s room as well, surrounding the kitchen and living room on the second floor. There’s another floor with a few more rooms, reserved for aunts and uncles once they finally arrive that George barely even knew when he lived in their area. 

George is thankful that the bottom floor with their rooms will be more of a passing area, rather than a center focus. If they need to talk or—or scheme, they’ll be able to without much difficulty. They’ll also have room to escape the family time, just in case they need a break from socializing and pretending.

“Dream!” Lucy, George’s sister yells when she walks from her room, seeing the three of them tour the villa. “Nick!” 

Crossing his arms, George raises an eyebrow and gives his older sister a glare. She hugs his friends, talking about how it’s nice to meet them and shit without even glancing at him. “Hey!” George says, laughing. “I see how it is, I guess. The both of you don’t even care that I’m here,” he jokes.

Lucy feeds into the joke. “Well, I guess they’re just better than you,” she says with a shrug. 

His jaw drops, feigned offense with a hand against his chest. “Oh my god,” Dream says before he gets to reply. “You guys are so—so similar,” he says, genuinely shocked. 

George giggles a little at the look on Dream’s face. He’s right—George is very similar to his sister. They have the same sense of humor and they keep in touch enough that they pick up similar mannerisms and sayings. 

“Well, yeah, idiot. She’s my sister,” George says, but continues to dig at his sister. “Who apparently cares more about you and Stinknap than me.” 

“You’re the one who left us for—for your husband and then didn’t invite us to the wedding.” When Lucy says it, she says it with a glare. Although she keeps up the humorous demeanor, there’s an underlying seriousness in her tone.

She’s hurt. 

George knows that. She was hurt when he told her they were getting married, she was hurt when he told her he was leaving for America. 

Their relationship suffered because of it, but they’ve worked a lot in the last year or so to repair that. 

They hadn’t spoken after George left. She seemed to want space and George? Well, he was busy, in all honesty. There was a lot going on. He met Dream, they got married, and George had to settle, all while doing their jobs and traveling around the world. 

But things started to slow down and George reached out, telling her every itty bitty detail of his life and America while she gave him updates on her life back at home, and they slowly built their relationship up again. George is grateful that she gave him the chance and forgave him for something she saw as such a big betrayal at the time. 

“If it helps, they only told me they were married literally last night,” Sapnap says, showing off a glare. Damn, tough crowd today. George scrunches his nose and looks to Dream, stepping closer to him for comfort out of habit. Dream gives him a comforting smile in return, closing the gap between them and putting an arm around his shoulders. “These idiots have been sleeping in separate rooms and lying and shit to me for over a year about it.” 

“Nick,” Dream’s voice is soft, scattered with guilt. “We said we’re sorry. We just—we’re—” 

“It’s fine,” Sapnap replies, shrugging it off. George knows he’s upset by it, hurt, just like his sister was over a year ago. He hates that this—a fake marriage to get George to America—has caused so many important people in his life to get hurt. “I get it. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.”

He swallows that down, forcing it away and out of his mind. This was the only way. If they hadn’t gotten married, who knows? George may have still been in that shitty flat, alone. 

Even the thought makes his stomach turn, feeling sick knowing that could have been a possibility. 

George leans further into Dream’s side, looking for comfort and for something to ground him. He turns his face slightly into Dream’s chest, just until he gets his face under control. The last thing George wants to do is make it look like he’s upset or make them feel guilty for the way they feel. 

Sapnap is right. Just because this was the only way, doesn’t mean it didn’t suck for him, or for George’s family. They made the only choice they had. That doesn’t mean they can’t be hurt by it. 

“To be fair,” Dream says, swiping a comforting finger across George’s hip above his shirt. “We never had a real wedding. We just—we went to the courthouse. It wasn’t like you weren’t invited to a ceremony or something, we just never had one.” 

“Really?” Lucy asks skeptically, looking at George for reassurance. 

George looks up at Dream, finding green already staring down at him. “Really,” George confirms. “We didn’t have the time and there was so much going on, Luce. We went to the courthouse, said our vows, and that was it.” That’s the full truth. They had opted out of kissing at their courthouse wedding, claiming that was their preference and no one asked further questions. It’s not a requirement, so no one batted an eye. 

Lucy seems to take that answer, believing it as truth before slowly nodding as she processes. 

“We should have a little wedding here, then!” George’s mother chimes in with a gasp, bringing her hands together in front of her chest. 

His heart sinks and he looks up at Dream, wide-eyed with nerves. 

This was not in the plans—this is not what they’re here for. They’re in Turkey for a couple of weeks to see George’s family, to play the part of a fake-married couple, and then go home. Get back to Florida in one piece and everything can go back to normal. 

“Oh,” Dream’s surprise is not well hidden with the way the intonation of his voice rises and eyebrows jump. “Well, uh—”

“That’s a great idea!” Lucy cuts in. “We’ll set it up, like a mini wedding. There’s this beautiful place—”

“Lucy, I’m not sure that’s a great idea,” George chides, trying to be serious while still having hot cheeks. “We didn’t prepare or anything, and Dream’s family isn’t here,” George excuses. 

George pulls away slightly, concern seeping deep in his bones at the way he can feel Dream freeze against him. 

The taller is gnawing at his bottom lip and although George can’t see the green in his eyes, he can tell that they’re constricted with nerves, which does nothing but make George even more uneasy. 

Dream is always the go-getter, the problem solver, the one that holds them together. If Dream is nervous, well, George might as well melt into a puddle on the ground.

“It won’t be like, a real wedding or anything!” She says excitedly “Just like, a cute little thing we put together for you. You won’t even have to do anything!” 

“Luce,” George sighs. “We’re already married.” 

Her eyes point daggers at him, and then Dream next. George may be used to it but Dream definitely isn’t and his grip on George tightens with the glare. “Yeah, obviously.”

“Why are you so upset about this?” George asks, in all seriousness. He knows it’s their wedding but he’s not sure why it matters so goddamn much. “It’s just—”

“It’s just what? Your marriage?” It’s one thing to see her pissed off, cranky, frustrated. Tears start to pool in her dark brown eyes and George has to look away, knowing that he’ll start to cry with her. After everything that happened, almost losing his relationship with her after he moved, it’s just too emotional. “Why would I be upset about not being a part of my little brother’s wedding? Seriously, George?”

The question is rhetorical, so George doesn’t dare open his mouth or try to stop her when she stomps away to her room in the villa, bumping his shoulder with a mumbled “forget it” under her breath. 

Again, George has no defense but to tuck even further into Dream’s shoulder. He almost shoves his face into Dream’s chest, on the verge of tears and not wanting anyone to see. 

“I’ll go talk to her,” Bea says. His mother’s footsteps walk away, quieting as they reach their destination and George figures she’s upset, too. 

George knows it’s bad when even Sapnap walks away, hopping down the steps and away from them quickly where they stand side by side in the living room. 

Strong arms pull him into a hug, swaying them slightly on their feet. He can feel the way Dream leans down, lips to the crown of his head. “We can let them throw a little party, George.” 

George huffs, trying to sniffle as quietly as he can so he doesn’t show how upset he really is. “It’s not a party, Dream, it’s a wedding.” 

“So? It’s not like we’re gonna have a real one or anything. Just let them set this up. It’s just going to be a dinner, right?” He asks.

Dream doesn’t understand—the point is still there. 

Yeah, maybe they’re married. For real married—like married in a courthouse, marriage license and all the shit that comes with it like taxes. Still though, something about a wedding makes it feel so—so real? Serious? 

George isn’t sure what the feeling is. All he knows is that the unsettled nausea in his stomach started with the thought of him and Dream at the head of a table, being congratulated on their very real but very, very fake marriage. He thinks of the lies that he’s told and the further ones he’ll have to make, faking a smile in front of some of the most important people.

He thinks of having to kiss Dream in front of his family because he’ll never get through a wedding dinner without someone chanting kiss for a photo. 

It’s not just a dinner, it’s a wedding. It’s a wedding dinner. 

Something about it makes his stomach churn, knowing that not only will he have to be put in this position, but so will Dream. 

Dream will have to lie and put on a show and god forbid, kiss George even if he doesn’t want to. 

And god, maybe George never planned on getting married. He never wanted a partner. He had never planned to settle down to get married and buy a house and have kids. George didn’t lose out on anything by marrying Dream, but Dream sure did lose out on a plethora of things by marrying George. 

He could have been at home right now, going on dates and finding the person he’s really in love with. Dream’s at that age, a good age, to really meet people that could potentially become serious. 

But no. Dream gave that all up, at least temporarily, for George. To marry George, to get him to the states, Dream had to give up meeting people and falling in love and getting married. His first marriage, even if they ever get divorced after their two year deal, will always be with George. He’s stolen that from Dream. 

Now he has to steal this from Dream, too? A wedding? He hates that. 

George tells him as much. 

“You’ve given up so much for me. You don’t need to give this up, too,” George whispers, careful not to talk too loudly that his mother and sister can hear him from the next room. 

Dream’s face pinches, like George just scolded him or told him something he didn’t want to hear. “What? What have I given up?”

“Your life,” George states like it’s obvious. “Your chance to meet someone. Your first marriage,” George lists. 

Dream shakes his head. “I didn’t give that up, George. You act like that’s a hardship.”

“It is, Dream. You wanted to find a partner and get married.” 

“I did that,” Dream tells him quietly, glancing around the room. “I found a partner and we got married. Just because it’s not traditional doesn’t make that any less true.”

“But—“

Dream cuts George off. “No buts, idiot. Don’t think like that. I didn’t have to do anything and I didn’t give up anything. I’m happy with our lives right now and I’d do it all again.” 

The words are reassuring. 

George doesn’t bother arguing back, though he still thinks Dream has given up too much already. There’s no point in pushing it now, especially with the risk of someone walking in and hearing their conversation. 

“So, a wedding?” George asks, looking up into Dream’s eyes. 

There’s less fear in them now, back to their confident and reassuring warmth. The way liquid gold swarms his irises, shining different depths of yellow-green color to George, is just enough to calm George’s nerves.

Dream smiles softly at him, one arm around his shoulders rubbing the center of his back. “Yeah, a wedding,” Dream whispers back. 

Just as George opens his mouth to say something, his mum walks from his sister’s room. He backs away from Dream, trying to put some personal space between them while he gets some information from her. “She’s very upset, George,” she says. 

He fights the urge to roll his eyes. Obviously.

“Should I go talk to her?” George asks, walking over to her. 

She sighs and shrugs. “She’s not going to want to hear you tell her no again.” 

Looking up at Dream, he waits for a nod just to make sure they’re on the same page. “She can—she can put something together if she wants.” 

His mother lights up across the room, excited sparkle back in her eyes. “Really?” 

Dream nods, braving a smile, so George does too. He even leans into the hug that he and Dream are pulled into. “Thank you guys for doing this,” she says. 

“Thank you for putting it together for us,” Dream says politely. “We didn’t get to celebrate really, so we’re excited.” 

Excited is an overstatement but he doesn’t even make a joke, he just nods too before walking over to Lucy’s room. 

He takes a deep breath before entering, mouth dry with nerves. 

“George, don’t—” 

“I’m sorry,” he says over her. “I never meant to—to keep this from you, or leave without fixing things between us Lu.” 

“But you did,” she says, bringing her knees to her chest where she’s leaned with her back against the headboard. “You like—you had this entire life I didn’t even know about.”

That’s not true. Even with everything, content and life and—and feelings. Lucy was always in the know. “You knew everything. Up until we decided to get married, you knew everything.” 

She scoffs at George in response, clearly annoyed. “I don’t need to know everything. I get that some things are personal but really? Telling us you’re getting married and dipping out of the country a few weeks later? No invite to visit or come to a wedding or—or anything.” 

Lucy has tears in her eyes, picking at the string of her shorts as she tells George the ways this hurt her. He never meant to make her feel so left out and abandoned. “There was no time for a visit, Lucy, we were so busy. We weren’t even home, we were traveling for work,” George explains. “And we never had a wedding or like, a honeymoon or anything like that. Me going there, arriving in America? Yeah, I wanted it more than anything, but it was like the start of a new job, having all this IRL content and shit to do. And then Dream. We hadn’t ever met; I hadn’t seen his face, and we were getting married. There was a lot of change I needed to adjust to.” 

She looks up at his face finally, a tear falling just past her bottom lashes before she wipes it away quickly. “I know, but it still sucks to miss your little brother’s wedding. We were like, best friends, George.” 

Were.

George frowns at her and reaches a hand out to her, resting it on the bed. He doesn’t push and waits, letting her put her hand into his. “Well, we never got to have a wedding so you better plan a good one,” George says jokingly, trying to add a bit of amusement into his voice to lighten the mood. 

Her eyes gain a little bit of hope. This conversation is much bigger than a wedding dinner but for now, maybe the rest of it can wait. He thinks they may need a bit more healing before they can really talk about this and get through it. Letting her plan this celebration though, he thinks that may be a step in letting her know how important she is to him. “George, don’t fuck with me.” 

“I’m not,” he says. “But nothing, like, ridiculous. Okay? A dinner. A small dinner or whatever.” 

She smiles widely through watery eyes, squeezing his hand. “I promise it’ll be so much fun.” 

He smiles at her and they jump into talking about different restaurants she had looked up while planning the trip. It’s overwhelming already but this is for her, right? And his family. They can get through this one night. 

--

So, George regrets everything. 

He knows it would have hurt Lucy’s feelings, and his mother’s, to say no to this wedding dinner. 

But it went from a small dinner to a full on celebration.

Guess what he’s doing right now? 

Shopping. 

George hates shopping–for nice clothes, at least. And with his mum and sister of all people. 

They’re picky and they’re going into every single store and George just doesn’t care. He doesn’t care to look nice or to find a nice suit or any of that shit. 

“George, look! This necklace is beautiful!” she says, waving him over to a glass case with jewelry inside. 

Instinctually, George’s hand flies up to his neck to feel for his chain as he glances into the box. The necklace is shining brightly under the perfectly placed lights, reminding him of the one he wore to the streamer awards. 

“I’m not getting a necklace,” he says, tired and defeated. “Dream gave me this chain, I don’t take it off.” A piece to their story that’s nothing but truth. It was one of the things Dream gave him upon his arrival, letting George wear his chair and keep it when he bought himself a new one. George has treasured it ever since, especially that it typically holds his wedding ring on it as well. 

Lucy coos and looks at the shiny gold in his hand, smiling softly at it. She’s lucky she’s sweet and appreciates him because he’s about one second away from losing it. 

They’ve only been in Turkey for one fucking day and he’s spent the entire time clothes shopping in unbearable heat and humidity. 

He’s not doing this again tomorrow. 

At least he found a suit to wear. “This was meant to be a small, casual, dinner, Lu.” 

She scoffs at his reminder but leaves the store. “Casual wasn’t on your rule list. Besides, the weather is shitty today so it’s a good day to shop.” 

“Let’s go back to the villa,” George says, tugging her arm the way of their Airbnb with their mom trailing behind. She tries to disagree and pull away but George grips a bit tighter. “I want to see Dream, come on.” 

The words are true, even if that seems ridiculous. 

He doesn’t want to break down what that means, so he doesn’t think about it for too long.

In George’s defense, they’re usually not apart for this long anymore and something about being in an unfamiliar place makes him feel uneasy. It has nothing to do with stupid feelings or anything like that. 

On their way back, Lucy and his mum talk about anything and everything about this wedding dinner. From center pieces on the table to the color of flowers and George needs to block it out before he freaks out. 

Dinner, he reminds himself. Not a wedding, no matter how much they’re making it seem like one.

Instead of listening, he gets himself lost in his own thoughts. 

His brain wanders mindlessly, following closely behind his family and a bag in his hand.

He lands on thoughts of the leftovers from dinner that sit in the fridge, waiting for him, and then to what plans they have tomorrow for hopefully a better weather day. 

If his mind also skits across Dream kissing him, well, that’s no one’s business. He can’t think like that. Especially because if it’s ever going to be a possibility, it’s going to be on this trip. 

“Are we almost there?” George asks, pushing thoughts of Dream out of his mind, catching up to the pair. 

“Yeah, look,” his mom says, pointing up a hill at the little corner of the house he would’ve never spotted without being told. 

George’s relief must be written on his face, paired with the way his own pace speeds up without even trying. Bea smiles and keeps up with his strides. “We’re glad to see you so happy, George,” she says. 

Lucy nudges him, her elbow bumping his as they walk together. “It’s crazy, you know, seeing you like this.” 

“Like what?” George is slightly offended. 

“In love,” she says easily, like it doesn’t cause George’s heart to skip a beat and feet to stumble on the flat path ahead of them.

She doesn’t get the chance to expand, nor does George get to ask about it as they reach the villa’s front doors. Like, he knows they’re playing the part–in love with each other, as a married couple–but what does she mean? How does he act that makes him seem in love? 

And uh, George would really like to know if it’s super obvious. For personal reasons. 

Dream and Sapnap look like they’ve just walked in too, their own bags in hand, heading into their respective rooms. 

There’s something about Dream’s presence that calms George more than anything else. He immediately feels like himself again, relaxed and no longer on edge about their shopping. George is just glad to be back in Dream’s space. 

“Oh, hey,” Dream smiles at George over his shoulder. He drops the shopping bag onto the floor of their room and walks back out, approaching George. “Get anything good?” 

As Dream approaches, George steps closer to him just for proximity and shrugs while opening the bag. They both lean over it, ready to peek in and look at the contents before Lucy hops in to stop them. “What? No! That’s like, bad luck.” 

“What?” They ask at the same time, as Lucy tugs the bag from George’s hands. 

“You can’t look at each other’s outfits before the wedding, it’s bad luck,” she explains. 

“It’s a dinner, not a wedding.” George’s words are slow, enunciated, like he’s trying to make sure Lucy understands. 

She shrugs, a sheepish look on her face but doesn’t say anything other than, “I know.” Lucy walks away with the bag and grabs Dream’s bag on the way out, winking at George. 

“Um,” George says, walking into their room while Dream follows him in. “This is–this isn’t going to be good.” 

Dream laughs at that and lets himself fall back into the bed. “It’ll be fine, George. They can’t really do much–we’re in Turkey.” 

“Don’t say that, you have no idea what they’re capable of,” George tells him, letting himself fall beside Dream on the bed. Dream may not know, but George is very aware of how extra Lucy can be about things like this.

“Why are you so worried?” Dream rolls onto his shoulder and faces George, so he does the same. They’re so, so, close together, George has to inch back just in case he does anything stupid. 

“They’re just annoying, Dream, and now we have to figure out how we’re going to make this believable. Lucy is making this into like, a huge thing.” 

Dream nods nervously, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. George’s eye twitches at the movement and he almost wants to yell at Dream to stop drawing attention to those stupid lips so George can stop thinking about them. 

George’s eyes can’t help but flicker down to the glossy lips, licking his own in return. 

Not now, George thinks, forcing his eyes back on Dream’s. 

“What if she makes us kiss?” Dream asks. George’s cheeks set aflame, burning at the question that was probably triggered by his gaze on Dream’s lips. 

Fuck, he’s being way too obvious. 

Think, think, think.

The concern isn’t new–he had brought it up a few days back when he was spiraling. George didn’t want to worry about it at the time but now? Well, he thinks it’s time to worry about it. 

They’re never going to make it through this entire dinner–this literal wedding– Lucy seems to be planning, without a kiss. 

“Uh, honestly I don’t know, Dream.” 

Dream glares at him but it’s playful. “You said not to worry about that.” 

That’s true, George did say that–but now it’s inevitable that they’ll be kissing at some point or another. 

Just the thought is enough for George’s heart to start racing. He swallows harshly before explaining. “I know but now I think she actually might make us kiss.” 

Dream just stares like he’s waiting for George to say something else, but he doesn’t have anything. “They’ll know, George,” he says, voice shaking. “If we kiss for the first time in front of them.”

“There’s nothing we can do about that,” George replies. 

“Well,” Dream says, drawing out the vowel. Even though George can’t see the pinkish hue on Dream’s skin, he can tell that his cheeks darken with color before his next words. “We can kiss now to like, practice.” 

“I–what?” George says stupidly, not even taking a moment to process Dream’s words before word-vomiting his shock. “Practice kissing?” he asks then with a bit more composure, closing his mouth and accidentally looking at Dream’s lips again. 

Dream shrugs, flipping onto his back again to face the ceiling. George is thankful for the loss of eye contact–and for the ability to stop seeing Dream’s lips. “Yeah.” Dream shrugs like it’s no big deal but his one-worded answer is breathless. “Just so we don’t have to kiss in front of them for the first time.” 

The explanation honestly makes a lot of sense, but George isn’t too sure how his brain will take this. 

He’s been actively avoiding Dream’s lips and any thought of them for days at this point, 

At the same time though, maybe it’ll make him stop thinking about them so much. If he finally gets to feel soft lips against his, maybe there won’t be such a mystery to the way their lips will feel locked together and George can get his thoughts about Dream straight again. 

Well, George isn’t sure his thoughts about Dream were ever platonic. They’ve always danced some odd line in the sand, a push and pull between friends and something more. 

George wouldn’t have married anyone else, not even for the visa. George would never spend a night in anyone else’s bed–well, maybe Sapnap’s on the rare occasion but they put pillows between them for safe measure, whereas George sometimes wakes up with his head on Dream’s shoulder after a late night. George has never thought about any of his friends’ in a romantic way, or thought about their lips against his. 

“Actually, forget it, I’m sorry–” 

“No, no, that’s–that’s actually a good idea,” George says quickly, not wanting Dream to get up and walk away.

Maybe it’s a bad idea for George in the long run. It’ll surely confuse him further about his feelings and make his life a living hell, but it makes sense. They need to put on this show like they’re really married–an actual couple. How are they going to do that if they turn their heads the wrong way or miss one another’s lips? 

“It is?” Dream asks skeptically, eyes wide and now looking down at George. 

Slowly, he nods. “It would be the most convincing if we practice, right?”

George sits up, Dream following quickly after him. He’s glad that Dream’s blush is dark enough that George can still see it because he knows for a fact the skin on his face is burning red that Dream can surely see, too. 

“Right.” Dream’s adam’s apple bobs with a rough swallow, eyes bouncing between George’s eyes. “So, like… now? Right now?” 

“Yeah, Dream. I um–yeah. Kiss me, I guess.” George’s stutter is embarrassing, distracted by the way Dream wets his lips and he wonders if Dream is doing it on purpose or out of habit. Either way, it feels like torture with the way George has to keep his eyes focused somewhere else. 

“Are you sure?” The question is dumb and makes George huff. 

“Yes, you idiot. Kiss me before I change my mind,” he orders. 

Dream laughs, face so close to George’s that his breath fans across his face. His breath smells of something sweet–the ice cream they had before splitting ways and going shopping for their celebration. “You’re so bossy, George,” Dream says with exasperation, shaking his head fondly. 

They’re so close together that George feels loose curls brush against his head, getting caught in some of his own curls that hang over his forehead. “Just do it,” George orders again, leaning in just a hair closer. 

George waits for the very expected okay, Nike from Dream, but it never comes and that settles the seriousness of this over him. The smile gradually falls from Dream’s face, his expression turning more into something of focus.

He watches Dream study him in a way he never has before, eyes scanning across his face and landing on his lips. The way George’s breath hitches at Dream’s eyes on him is embarrassing but not enough to move. He stays frozen, letting Dream’s eyes inspect him and memorize every piece he wants. 

Staying focused is near impossible at this point. 

George lets his eyes close, not able to slow his heart and calm his thoughts any other way. 

He gives Dream free reign, letting him take his time and make the decisions here. 

It’s not long before a hand comes up to George’s jaw, resting so gently that George almost thinks he’s imagining it. 

He opens his eyes, heart thrumming so quickly George can barely take a deep breath. Forget about nerves, George is borderline panicking right now.

His eyes meet Dream’s, liquid gold warm in Dream’s eyes in comparison to the piercing green he has when he’s nervous, and immediately George is calmed. 

Dream’s tongue swipes his lips again and eyes fall to George’s, so George does the same. At least looking at his lips in this context is appropriate and expected. 

“Ready?” Dream asks. 

George lets out a breathy laugh, too nerve-filled to be comforting to Dream, but he tries anyway. “I’ve been ready,” he says.

It does the trick because Dream laughs, palm pressing down harder on George’s jaw and leaning in closer. 

There’s not even hesitation when he leans fully in to allow their lips to finally touch. 

At first, George thinks that this is the kiss he’s been waiting for his entire life. Sure, it’s short and they’re a bit off-center, but it’s Dream. The press of his lips is somehow familiar, despite it being their first kiss. Maybe it’s the touch of Dream’s palm against his skin that makes George feel at home, or the scent of his best friend that he’s almost always surrounded with. Or maybe it feels special because this isn’t just a random partner or hookup like he used to have way back when. This kiss is with his husband, and something about it is so, so perfect. 

Even for their first kiss, George thinks he’d be content if Dream is the last person he ever kisses.

The kiss ends too soon. It’s too quick for George to even memorize the softness and wetness on Dream’s lips, or tilt his head to deepen. Maybe that’s for the best. 

It’s almost jarring when their lips are separated, too lost in the feeling to remember why they’re here with their lips between one another’s. 

George opens his eyes, lips parted and braves a look at Dream. His lids are hooded, hand still on his jaw. 

Dream’s shoulders raise as he takes a deep breath, neither of them saying anything. 

It’s possible that George is crazy, or maybe Dream is actually looking down at his lips again, but he doesn’t want to find out the embarrassing way. 

He clenches his hands into fists on his lap, Dream’s tightening on George’s face. “Good?” Dream asks, almost like he’s out of breath. 

George is speaking before he even gets the chance to think or process his thoughts, letting himself spit out the first thing that comes to mind. An easy way to make a fool of himself, despite actively trying to stay in control. “Maybe we should do one more.” 

The words fall off his tongue quicker than his mind can tell him it’s a bad idea. 

Luckily, Dream isn’t upset or mad. His hand moves from George’s face and slides to the base of his skull. He laughs too, making George smile, before leaning in so their lips connect again. 

In practice, this kiss is worse. They’re both laughing, lips tight in a smile and not connecting as much as they’re just slapped against each other. Their teeth clack while they giggle into each other’s mouths, nose bumping as their soft laughter turns into something bigger. 

George isn’t even sure he could consider that a kiss, lips barely grazing while they burst into laughter at nothing, but somehow, it’s better than the first. 

It’s natural–like they’ve been doing it for years and should never stop. Like Dream leaning into George for a kiss is a well-practiced move.

“Stop laughing, dumbass,” Dream says, pulling away. 

George lets himself fall back onto the bed, laughing even harder like a belly-laugh, hand over his stomach. “What–what is wrong with you?” George manages to say when he takes a breath. “That wasn’t a kiss, Dream, what the hell?” 

“Oh my god,” Dream says with a sheepish look and an eye roll, still laughing too. “Shut up, idiot. If you want to practice another kiss, then you have to be–be normal.” 

That sobers him a little, calling the kiss another practice round rather than just another kiss. That is what it is though, so George lets his laughter die down but stays with his back pressed into the mattress. 

Dream looks back at George over his shoulder, soft smile still adorning his features. 

“I’m done laughing,” George says with a duh tone. After a second, he raises one eyebrow at Dream. 

“Are you?” Dream, retorts, satire heavy in his voice. Even being a sarcastic little ass, Dream lies down beside George. 

They don’t continue the joke once Dream is beside him. The smaller turns over onto his shoulder, facing Dream again. Their noses touch with how close they are when he turns over, making George giggle. 

Dream’s freckles are dark again, lashes dark like the roots of his hair and much different than the way it’s lightened from the sun. 

He can’t stop himself. 

George’s hands come between them, one reaching up to Dream’s face and letting the pads of his fingers dance across the bridge of his nose. Dream’s skin is pale, smooth to the touch, and George wants to touch every inch of skin he can. 

He doesn’t get to explore very long. Dream pulls his hand down before diving in for another kiss. 

There’s less time to mentally prepare for this kiss–Dream’s mouth on his before he can even take a breath or separate his lips. Any time to fall into the kiss is after Dream’s already kissing him, hand tight on his hip. 

This one is different, to say the least. It’s less gentle and less of a peck–something more fitting to their setting. It’s not a short but soft kiss, sitting on the edge of their bed with their knees awkwardly touching. Lying in their shared bed together changes the kiss–the entire dynamic, really. 

Dream’s hands are on his hip and George’s hands slip to the back of Dream’s neck instinctually, knotting in the curls that are just a tad too long. 

They’re familiar in his hair but not in this context–he’s definitely touched Dream’s hair before. Once when he was crying about another bad haircut, or when he begged George to just trim the tips a bit, and even one time when Sapnap and George were fucking around too hard. Dream had gotten in between them and they accidentally knocked Dream over, sending his head into a hard piece of furniture. George combed through his hair that day, just to make sure there wasn’t anything that was worthy of going to the doctor for. 

And Dream’s hands are familiar in the spot they’re in, too. He’s grabbed George by the waist before, manhandling him around a room and even on stream, or pulling him off Sapnap during a fight. 

When they move further back, they’re familiar on the small of his back too, from guiding him through packed places, to a protective hold when someone gets too close and makes George uncomfortable. 

Everything about this kiss is natural. It feels like they’ve done this song and dance a million times. 

It’s nothing like a first kiss, honestly– or second. There’s no hesitation in their lips or the way Dream tilts his head. Their teeth don’t bump, they turn together, and move their lips like the perfect song and dance. 

Dream pulls him closer, hands tightening around George’s shirt and he presses their chests together in response, fingers knotting into light brown hair. 

George is almost embarrassed by the way he leans into Dream, knowing his heart is beating so fast that Dream must be able to feel it in his own chest, but then decides he doesn’t care. 

“George?” Dream asks, pulling away for a second. 

“Hm?” George’s eyes flutter open briefly, just sparing Dream a glance. 

One second, then two, and George leans in again before he can overthink it. Dream doesn’t disappoint, leaning back into the kiss and curving his mouth into a bit of a grin. 

George smiles a little too, tilting his head for a better angle. Before he even gets to consider anything else like swiping his tongue across Dream’s bottom lip, there’s a single knock before the door flies open. 

“Hey–oh my– ew!” Sapnap screeches, causing them to jump apart. George rolls onto his back, cheeks aflame and before he covers his own eyes, he sees Sapnap with his hands across his face and backing away blindly. 

He very quickly slams the door shut and George freezes against the pillows, waiting for Dream to say or do something. George is preparing for the worst now that they’ve disconnected. Without their lips locked together, reality settles tensely around them creating a thick awkward fog in the room.

It’s so uncomfortable that George thinks the air is palpable. He’s worried that after all this planning, he’s fucked this up. Letting Dream kiss him, despite knowing that his feelings for Dream aren’t just platonic, sharing a room and a bed and having this fake marriage; this was all a terrible idea. 

Internally, George starts to panic. It starts in his throat, tight and making it difficult to breathe. His heart flutters in his chest, feeling nerves bloom inside his body instead of the excited thrumming of his heart when he was kissing Dream. 

His hands press harshly into his eyes, like pressing hard enough will make him forget what they’ve done and things won’t be awkward. 

And as George stresses about each and every possible negative outcome, Dream starts to laugh. 

It’s a good laugh, a perfect one like Dream’s always are, but there’s a special lilt to the way his laughter bounces off the walls. It feels like it’s a new laugh but George thinks he might be able to attribute that to his own reaction, considering he thought this might be the end all be all to their agreement and possibly even their friendship as they know it. 

“At least we won’t have to convince anyone we’re really together now,” Dream says through his laughter, not even leaning away to lie flat on his back and stare at the ceiling. “Oh my god, George, your face! You should see your face!” 

George grimaces, finally starting to laugh with Dream because his laughter is contagious, reaching to smack Dream’s shoulder. “Oh my god, I hate you.” 

“You were so shocked like–like–” Dream can’t finish his sentence, not even to make fun of George, so George sits up and smacks him again. 

“What is wrong with you?” George giggles a little, annoyed that he’s laughing when he’s so embarrassed. Curse Dream for having such a contagious laugh that’s always gotten George to laugh, in almost every situation. 

It’s like in the old You Laugh, You Lose videos, he had to take off his headphones just to avoid hearing Dream’s roaring laughter in order to hold himself together. 

Dream sits up too, pulling George into a playful hug while George immediately tries to wrestle out of his arms. 

“This is your fault, Dream!” George explains, finger pointing harshly into the center of Dream’s chest. He presses harder, accidentally thinking about how hard Dream’s chest is against the pad of his finger. 

“Me? How is this my fault?” Dream asks, still laughing. He pushes George’s hand off his chest and easily grabs his wrists in one hand. “You’re the one that wanted to practice again.” 

“You wanted to practice in the first place.” George’s voice is low, probably barely intelligible with the way he mumbles it with feigned anger that really just covers his embarrassment.

Dream keeps George’s wrists in his hand, grip gentle around soft skin, but stops physically horsing around. George does too, finally sitting still on the edge of the bed with Dream holding his arms. “I know,” Dream whispers. “Was–was it okay?”

All feelings of awkwardness are tossed aside, not wanting Dream to think in any way that George is mad about the kiss. He’s not mad about it–he’s the opposite, actually. He just wants to blame Dream for Sapnap walking into their room and watching them kiss in bed, rather than take on any blame. 

“Yes,” George tells him, so there’s no room for interpretation. “I just don’t want Sapnap to feel weird or anything.” 

Partial truth, but still truth. George is just as worried about Sapnap feeling uncomfortable as he is that his relationship with Dream will grow weird from all of this. 

It’s too late now, though. They’re married, for show and for real. They kissed, for practice and… maybe for a little bit of enjoyment too. 

There’s no taking that back, no matter how hard they want to.

And they are having this stupid celebration that seems like it will be way more like a wedding than he agreed to, but there’s no turning back on that either. Not unless he wants to completely wreck his relationship with his sister. 

Dream scoffs, shoving George playfully again to lie with his back to the pillows. It lightens the mood and eases the seriousness that plagued their voices moments before. “Sapnap will be fine, I promise.” 

George doesn’t have anything to go off of, besides Dream’s words and his own anxieties, so he just nods and tries to accept it. 

Besides, it’s just another one of those things that he’ll face when he has too, he guesses. There’s not much he can do about it now. 

“Okay,” George relents. “But if he yells–”

“I’ll tell him not to,” Dream eases him and George believes it. 

Although things with Dream are normal, George isn’t ready to face Sapnap. He camps out in his room for the rest of the night, mostly with Dream but a little alone when he goes to see Sapnap, too.

The quiet room allows his thoughts to bounce inside his skull, ping-ponging like there’s too many balls and not enough paddles. He doesn’t even know what to think, or what to worry about anymore. 

He thinks at the top of the list must be the way the ghost of Dream’s lips don’t leave his own, not while Dream is with him or even when Dream leaves.

When Dream is with Sapnap, George even brings his fingers to his lips, as if expecting to feel a change now that Dream’s lips have been there before, but there’s nothing. 

There’s no physical change on his lips or on his face–just the echo of their past kiss resting above them and the leftover sting around the outline from Dream’s stubble rubbing against his own. 

But he feels different, so something is different. Right? 

George hates that there’s nothing clearcut about this situation they are in. They’re married, really, but for the visa. So, it’s real but fake at the same time. 

They kissed to practice but George kind of got lost in his mind and it was for a lot more than just a practice kiss, to him at least. 

Where’s the line? Is there a line? They never really set one, not since their old one was abandoned back with a fake marriage and desperation to get to America. 

And what if their friendship suffers because of it? 

George’s hand leaves his mouth suddenly, almost like they burn. Like the thought of his friendship with Dream crumbling physically hurts him. 

He spins the ring on his finger and focuses on the feeling, getting himself to stop dooming about things that could go wrong. 

His friendship with Dream logically isn’t going anywhere, but… anything can happen. George has learned that the hard way, time and time again, and so has Dream. 

Either way, George has to believe that they are stronger than a fake marriage and stupid piece of paper or he won’t get through this. They’re stronger than unreciprocated feelings and a broken heart, too.

George falls asleep with worry sitting heavy on his chest before Dream ever makes it back, twisting his ring and trying to ignore the buzz of his lips. 

–

George is sleepily poking at his breakfast while sitting on the kitchen counter when Dream finally gets out of bed. 

“Hey Georgie,” Dream says, walking up the stairs to the kitchen and Sapnap trailing behind him.

When he sees his friend, George blushes and snaps his head to look down at his plate again remembering the night before. George had strategically run out of his shared room with Dream this morning without even looking, really not wanting to see him with cute bed head and cute but quiet snores escaping his lips. 

And no, George is not thinking about Dream’s lips. End of story. 

He’s also not thinking about Sapnap walking in on them–

As they both walk in, Dream leans over George’s shoulder with a kiss to the cheek before ruffling his hair at the top of his head. 

If he was sleepy, he’s not anymore. George can feel his back straighten as Dream’s lips touch his skin, suddenly feeling embarrassed he didn’t even bother to fix his hair on his rush out of their room. 

It’s not like Dream hasn’t seen him exactly like this, or worse a million times over, but still. There’s something about it that boils under his skin when Dream looks at him right now, with spectators watching them as they try to prove their marriage is real. Putting on a show to be the perfect couple to everyone, when in reality they’re just a pair of two best friends that are a little too friendly sometimes and tied together by a piece of governmental paper. 

George runs his fingers through his hair, getting caught on the messy knots as he tries to settle the wild curls. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Hey,” he says back, watching from the corner of his eyes as Dream opens the fridge to grab the apple juice. 

“Morning, Bea,” Dream says politely, grabbing a cup and placing it in front of George’s plate. He pours George a glass while George just silently watches the liquid fill to the top. 

“Morning, sweetie,” she says back, kindly. “Morning, Nick. Do you two want anything?” Bea asks, motioning toward the food. 

“Oh yeah, that’d be great,” Sapnap tells her, walking around to see what she’s made and picking. 

Bea looks over at Dream expectedly, waiting, but Dream just shakes his head. “No thanks, I’m okay. I’ll just pick on some of George’s.” Dream smiles at her and then back at George, sitting beside him at the counter. “That okay?” 

Dream is looking at him with soft eyes and a grin, curls frizzing from the humid Turkey air that’s even crazier than Florida. George’s eyes flicker away at the intense eye contact, settling down on scrambled eggs that aren’t really his taste but he tries to pick on anyway. 

He nods, pushing the food around on his plate. “Yeah, go get a fork,” George orders. 

“Just give me a bite,” Dream says, nudging him. “You know I don’t really eat breakfast.” 

“What?” George can’t help asking the question, even knowing exactly what Dream means. It’s just shocking enough that the words fall from his mouth as the air escapes his lungs. “Oh.” 

Dream just laughs and bumps George’s shoulder again. He playfully opens his mouth and waits for George to put food in his mouth. 

George laughs, forgetting the show they’re meant to be putting on and for the first time in days, he sees Dream as Dream again. Dream his best friend–the one that would do anything for him, and the one he would do anything for, too. The man George flew across the world for, waiting for his life to start for years just so he didn’t have to do it alone. 

George lets out a giggle as he picks up food onto his fork, playfully bringing it up to get ready for Dream. George swallows the lump in his throat, seeing the mischievous look in Dream’s eyes and glance to Bea. The look Dream wears reminds George what this is about; the show they are putting on. 

He brushes off the hurt, knowing it shouldn’t bother him because that’s exactly why they’re here, and pokes it a little too quickly into Dream’s mouth. 

At least he’s paying enough attention, pulling back just enough that he can pull the food easily off the fork, but George notices the question Dream wears on his face. 

George shakes his head, as if to say ‘not now’ and Dream is kind enough to accept that, not pushing the topic. He just opens his mouth, skeptically this time, like George might do it again. He doesn’t, not again, more careful to control his emotions and not almost stab Dream in the back of the throat with a fork and eggs. 

“Are you both ready for tonight?” Bea asks them and somehow, it feels too soon. He’s not sure he’s ready for a real wedding, or the closest thing he’ll ever get to one, in just a few hours. 

Their marriage up until this point has been private. Their cuddling and stupid dnf shit had no pressure on it because although they had a marriage license, they weren’t trying to prove anything to anyone. It was just them and if they cuddled, they cuddled. No one was watching or looking on to see if their marriage made sense. 

“I guess,” George says, glancing down at his hands on his lap with a shrug. “I’m nervous, honestly.”

His mum scoots to sit even closer to him to drag him into a hug. “We’ll be right there with you,” she says with a smile. “We’re so proud of you.”

George nods and swallows harshly, braving a semi-grin at her back. He hugs her tight and holds on, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s something comforting about being back in his mum’s arms, being held on tightly even after so much time of being away. “And you too, Dream,” she says, then dragging him into a hug of their own. “Thank you for making George so happy.” 

He smiles accidentally, staring at the two embraced together, and realizes that she’s right. Dream has made George happy, real marriage or not. They are together in one way or another and they are both happy. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Dream says and George tries not to let his smile falter at the look of worry sitting on Dream’s face. 

When Lucy walks in, any peace and quiet George thought they had quickly disappears. She gasps dramatically and walks up behind them, throwing her hands on George’s eyes. 

Obviously, he immediately brings his hands to hers to pull them off his face but she shushes him. “You’re not supposed to see each other before the wedding!” she screeches, sounding like she’s shooing Dream out of the room. 

“Oh my god, Lucy, it’s not a wedding.” George shoves her hands off and she lets him now that Dream is gone. He glares at her, directing his pent up anger straight at her. It’s not her fault, not really, but she’s taking every worry he has and shoving it down his throat.

She rolls her eyes and turns away. “Shut up, George.” That’s all she says, pulling some juice out of the fridge and making herself a plate. “Who cares what it’s called? Aren’t you excited?”

Her spirits are high and George has to give in, watching her practically hop in place. She’s so happy about this dinner that he can’t help but let himself get a little excited too, feeding off her joy and ability to pretend like nothing else matters. George lets out an exasperated breath, poking around at the bit of food still on his plate. He feels himself grinning down at the counter when he starts to think about what today is going to entail; getting ready and although not in a traditional way, tying himself to Dream in front of his family. 

“Yeah, I am.” George lets himself say it aloud finally, admitting it more to himself than his mum or sister. 

“You’re an idiot,” Lucy says to him. “You can be excited about this, you know. We know you love him.” Her voice is soft and quiet, a touch of meaning and comfort George didn’t even know he needed. 

She’s right. He can be excited about this. He can want to go eat dinner with his family once they arrive today and introduce Dream to everyone as his husband. His dad is coming this afternoon with a handful of extended family members and yeah, that’s intimidating, but it is exciting. 

His father will get to meet Dream properly and be here for their ‘big day’ and they’ll get to celebrate together. His aunts and uncles will finally get here,  ready to reunite with George for the first time since he was a kid and learn about his life now, as an adult and in a new country and married.

George lifts his head finally and meets her eyes, dark similarly to his own. “I know,” he says. “I do.” 

The smile she gives is warm, hand reaching for George’s for comfort. It’s like she knows though, getting too serious for George, she pulls the hand away and flicks him inside. “Save that for later,” she tells him. “Come on, let’s start getting ready.”

“What?” George asks in disbelief. “It’s morning.”

Despite his argument, he follows her to his shared room with Dream anyway knowing she’s already ordered Dream somewhere else to get ready with Sapnap. “It’s just after noon and you’re going to want time to get ready and take pictures,” she says, and he can’t argue with that.

–

He’s thankful Lucy pushed him to start getting ready early because by the time he greets his father and extended family at their arrival, chats with Lucy, his mum cries in his arms, well, he’s just on time arriving at the restaurant to take pictures before they start ordering their food.

“Hey,” Sapnap says as he walks into the room just a minute before he’s about to leave, closing the door behind him. “You ready?”

George’s eyes leave his own in the mirror, glancing up to where he can see Sapnap approaching from behind, wearing a suit of his own and a baseball cap. “Yeah,” George tells him, somewhat confidently. “Come help me,” he orders then, turning around to face him straight on. 

Sapnap can’t tie a tie that well and neither can he, but George thinks between the both of them they’ll manage. They meet in the middle of the room and Sapnap silently grabs George’s tie, fiddling with it. George nervously grabs the bottom of it and twists it in his fingers. 

They silently stand there while they try to tie it properly before finally swatting at George’s hand. “I’m really happy for you guys,” Sapnap says, eyes trained on the material in his hands. “Dream asked me to be his best man, you know.” 

George scoffs at him. “It’s not a wedding,” George tells Sapnap like a broken record, just another person he has to say this to. Again. “Besides, what about me? What if I wanted you to be my best man?” 

Sapnap laughs and somehow manages to tie the cloth around his neck and tighten it properly. “I started on his side of the family,” Sapnap jokes, though it’s partly true. Dream and Sapnap were friends far before George was even in the picture. 

George snorts at the irony, knowing he’s asked himself this exact question not too long ago. George keeps up the bit. “So I’m your brother-in-law?”

They both laugh together and Sapnap over-tightens the tie around his neck, patting his chest as he lets go. “Yeah, idiot, I guess you are.” The unexpected seriousness in Sapnap’s tone catches him off guard. He has to look at Sapnap in the eyes to see that there’s something he’s not saying. 

“Oh god,” George groans, shoving him playfully to hopefully lighten the mood. “What?”

When Sapnap doesn’t laugh, George knows there actually is something wrong. George’s smile falls. He takes a step back and swallows, trying to eye Sapnap up and down like the answer will be in his body language. “We can’t, uh–we can’t find Dream.”

“What?” Of all things Sapnap could have said right now, that was probably last on George’s list. “What do you mean?”

“When we got here, Lucy brought him up to the front and–” Sapnap shrugs, waving his hand around.

“The front?” George gets stuck on the words. 

Smiling sheepishly, Sapnap scratches the back of his neck. “Lucy set it up that like, you walk down a little walkway–”

“Walk down the aisle?” George is about ready to scream. He told Lucy that this was meant to be small, a small and casual dinner. George was fine to let it slide and shit, okay? A less than casual dinner with suits but a dinner nonetheless. An aisle? Front? Best man? That’s a whole ass wedding ceremony.

“Anyway,” Sapnap makes it clear that the aisle is not the problem right now. “Dream said he needed some air when he saw everyone and he–he left.” 

George frowns, looking around the room like it will give him some answers, knowing damn well that it won’t. “He left? Did you look outside?” 

Sapnap deadpans, like he very clearly checked outside already. “Do you think I’d be here talking to you if I hadn’t checked this entire place already?” Sapnap gives him a very obvious attitude, immediately raising George’s hackles. He feels his back straighten and eyes squint as he shoots a glare. 

“Did you call him?”

“Are you going to keep asking stupid questions?” Sapnap throws back at him, his own defenses raised with arms crossed against his chest. 

Okay, fine. Maybe that’s a stupid question but what else is George supposed to do? It’s not like he knows where Dream is. 

Instead of replying, George walks over to the rented out room and peeks out into it for the first time. At the sight, George’s lungs deflate with every emotion in the book; nerves, excitement, disappointment. 

It’s beautiful. The restaurant it set up beautifully. It’s exactly what he begged Lucy not to do, the reason he said no to the entire thing in the first place, but it’s elegant, it’s stunning, it’s perfect. 

There’s a walkway down the middle of four long rectangle tables, unmistakably an aisle that George was just moments away from walking down, lined with pretty blue flowers that he knows Dream encouraged because he knows that’s George’s favorite color. 

Each table is rectangle and covered in fancy dishware and wine glasses with pretty flower centerpieces that match those around the rest of the large room. As he looks, George wonders how his sister put this together and if this is even actually a restaurant, considering its venue-like size and style. 

People at the front, those he would have never expected to be there and shouldn’t be there, like Larray and Dream’s sisters and brother, his parents at a table close to the front with George’s own. 

And George understands. 

This dinner with George’s family has turned into a full on wedding in just a few days time, with flowers and suits and family members in Turkey of all places. It’s unbelievable that Lucy was able to put the entire thing together with short notice, including last minute flights and planning. 

It’s a real wedding, as real as a wedding can be with three days to put it together and a real marriage certificate but no real romance. 

George can’t stomach looking at the beautiful night his family has put together for him and Dream, not when he knows this is all fake and will break hearts if they knew. Not when he loves Dream, who doesn’t love him back. Not when Dream is nowhere to be found, leaving George behind to fend for them both against their families. “Fuck.”

Sapnap nods, pacing around frantically. George can’t bother with him right now. 

He picks up his phone, calling Dream on Discord first for no reason other than habit, then dialing the number he’s memorized by heart because it’s just another thing he knows about Dream that most people don’t. The phone rings with no answer and George hates that he knows Dream bought an international plan because it means Dream is intentionally ignoring him. He tries again, and again, rushing out the front door of the restaurant and into the humidity. 

The annoying call of Sapnap’s voice rings through before the door shuts between them but he doesn’t bother to look back. 

There’s no point in George being there if Dream isn’t there, right? And what’s more embarrassing than your already husband leaving you at the altar in front of their loved ones? Probably nothing. 

George walks around the now-familiar area surrounding a lake, walking down streets they’ve walked since they got here and looking between different nooks and crannies where streets become water.  By the time he sees a familiar flop of brown hair down by the water’s edge, George is sweating and probably somewhat of a disaster, so he wipes the sweat from his head with the cuff of his sleeve and straightens his jacket before approaching slowly. 

“Hey idiot,” George says, keeping the words light in hopes not to scare Dream away. 

Dream doesn’t even flinch where he sits, suit pants pulled a bit above his ankles so he can sit with his knees against his chest. His suit jacket is folded neatly on the ground next to him and on a large rock, avoiding the wetness of the ground. “Hey.”

Without hesitation, George sits next to him, letting their shoulders brush as he gets down to the ground. “It’s a lot,” George sympathizes, trying to let Dream know he gets it. “I asked her not to make it this big thing.” 

It’s not something George needs to say because Dream knows that already but he reiterates it anyway, just for the sake of it. “You think that’s the problem?” Dream’s voice, soft a moment ago, tight and frustrated within a second. “You really think I care that it’s big?”

Well, that’s not all of it surely, but what specifically annoys him about it? So badly that he would prefer to walk out on George in front of everyone they love. 

Dream chuckles sardonically, one George has heard countless of times in challenges and videos, but never seriously. Not like this. “I care that we’re lying in front of everyone we know, George. It’s that my mom and dad are here, and my siblings, and your nan is sitting in the front row. How could we possibly lie to all of them like this?”

In all honesty, George has been trying to ignore the fact that they’re lying to everyone. No matter how badly it hurts them and George, they have to, don’t they? When they chose the fake marriage for George to get to the US, they kind of gave up the right to be truthful. “I know it sucks but we have to, Dream. We’re–we’re married and now we’re just,” George shrugs, “playing the part.”

Dream gives him the most sarcastic laugh and shakes his head, arms wrapped tightly around his knees to pull them tighter against his chest. “I have to be honest, George, I don’t think I can anymore,” Dream tells him, head resting on his knees. “I can’t sit here and lie to everyone.” 

“What? Dream.” George feels his throat get tighter, saying Dream’s name with an embarrassing amount of desperation. “What do you mean?” 

“You apply for a visa and we wait like we should have in the first place, so we can get a divorce.” Dream’s words are not meant to be cruel but slice into George like a knife. 

The words hurt more than they should for a man that’s fake married to his best friend, but George knows he’s far past loving Dream as a friend and always has been, for as long as he can remember. He has to remind himself though, that although he has those feelings for Dream, Dream does not have them for him. “If we get a divorce before the two years are up, I have to go back to the UK,” George tells Dream, slowly enunciating each word. 

He expects–well, George doesn’t know what he expects. For Dream to say it’s okay, they’ll wait until his visa is officially approved to divorce or that they won’t get divorced until the two year minimum is up–anything to save them from eternal separation–but he doesn’t.

All Dream does is shrug as he stands, brushing his suit pants quickly before grabbing his jacket to turn away. 

“Dream,” George calls but Dream doesn’t reply. He keeps walking, turning toward their villa instead of the stupid restaurant. “Dream!” 

George jogs to catch up to him, grabbing him roughly by the elbow. He doesn’t even bother to turn and pay George any attention, but he at least stops walking forward. “You think being married is that bad?” He hates the way his breath catches in his throat, closing around hurtful words that shouldn’t make a difference in their friendship but they do. They fucking do and they’re painful. “You’d rather send me back home than be married to me?” 

He can hear footsteps coming down the path, loud ones that sound like they approach with a focus, but George doesn’t turn to notice. He’s busy feeling–wow, George doesn’t even know. Heartbroken, nauseous, maybe even a little betrayed.

Dream turns around, casting his eyes down on George’s. There’s hurt there too and George can barely think enough to wonder why he looks as bad as George feels. His lack of response is enough for George to scoff, fake but George hopes that it’s convincing enough to pretend that this doesn’t bother him nearly as much as it does. 

It’s Sapnap running to them, loud pants even audible from meters away, but George doesn’t have to turn to know it’s him. He pulls off the stupid ring from his finger, tugging angrily at his left hand before grabbing Dream’s hand and opening it to drop the ring into his palm. “Message received,” George chides cruelly, pushing Dream’s hand to close around the ring and move away from George. “Go tell everyone the wedding’s off, then.” 

“You know what, George?” Dream asks, taking a step closer to lessen the gap between them George just widened. “No, your family started this. You tell them it’s off, I’m not doing this.” 

“No, Dream, you agreed to come on this stupid trip and you’re calling it off so you should–”

“What’s up you guys?” Sapnap asks, slowing down and resting a hand on Dream’s shoulder to lean on while catching his breath. “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

George laughs sarcastically, looking up in the sky hoping it will stop the tears from reaching his eyes. “We’re getting divorced,” George tells Sapnap without looking at him, turning his eyes back to glare at Dream. 

“Fuck you, George,” Dream says, fire in his eyes and tugging his own ring off his finger. His ring is a little tight and the way he messily pulls makes it get stuck at his middle knuckle, but he doesn’t let up. He tugs and tugs until it’s red, tears starting to fill his eyes and most likely blur his vision. With a groan, he holds out his hand at Sapnap while wiping his sniffling nose with his right wrist. “Take it off, Sapnap. Get it off,” he whines, kind of like a child. 

Sapnap rushes to grab the ring off his finger gently so he will stop tugging harshly at his skin, but takes a deep breath in. “What the fuck is going on?” Harsh words but gentle tone, he feels Sapnap take on an immediate role of peacemaker between them.

“Nothing,” they both say simultaneously. 

Sarcastically, Sapnap scoffs at them. “Yeah, nothing. That’s why you’re getting a divorce instead of taking pictures, huh?” Sapnap asks and then under his breath, George swears he hears Sapnap call them idiots. 

George tells Sapnap the truth. “Dream doesn’t want to get married, he wants a divorce.” He shrugs and refuses to let himself cry. There’s a time and place for crying and in the middle of the streets in Turkey, in front of Dream right now, is not it. Maybe later, when he’s in their now unshared room at the AirBnb. “And he’d rather divorce me now and ship me back to London than wait, so—“

George doesn’t let Sapnap get a sentence in when he starts. “Dream, that’s—“ 

“No, no, it’s fine.” George laughs, hoping it has the cruel edge that he intends. Dream cut him and he wants to cut back. “I’ll just go back to London, why bother with the visa? You clearly don’t want me here.”

Even as the words leave his mouth, he realizes that he’s not sure that’s true but he’s definitely afraid that it is. 

“I never said that,” Dream tells him and George rolls his eyes, yet somehow relieved that he is willing to say he doesn’t want George gone completely. 

His insecurity is much bigger than his relief, though. “You implied it.”

Dream looks more defeated than angry, but George is livid. “You know I don’t want—“ 

“Then why—“

Sapnap cuts them both off and grabs George’s arm. “Guys!” 

“Go away, Sapnap, just—“ he swats Sapnap away and stands out of his reach. He lowers his voice, careful not to let it shake. “It’s done, we’re done.” 

He shoves past Dream, making his way toward the villa and hopes they won’t follow him. George can hear Dream whispering something to Sapnap. Briefly, he wonders if Sapnap is trying to go after him and Dream isn’t letting him because he’d prefer it that way.

Sapnap is his best friend but knowing that he would technically be Dream’s brother in the marriage, he thinks Sapnap will probably take his side in the divorce. 

Damn, they couldn’t even make a week with a public marriage, despite being closer to a relationship than a friendship for the last year or so.

The villa isn’t far, so George gets there quickly. It’s pure and blind range that has George stomping all the way up to his room and throwing all his shit onto the bed.

It feels like a lifetime ago that George was sitting in his room at home and Dream was there helping him fold his clothes and talking about his boxers. 

He can’t think about that right now or he will literally break down, right here, right now, in this stupid fucking villa they’re all staying in simply because Dream said yes to the trip. 

Oh, he’s so mad at Dream right now and he’s not even sure why. 

Everything he’s ever been mad about regarding Dream comes straight to the front, seeping from his pores and out into the open. 

Fuck him, honestly. For saying yes to this stupid fucking trip to begin with, for saying yes to marry George, for making George fall in love with him without even trying. 

George is so sick and tired of being in love with someone who will never love him back. 

When he hears the door open downstairs, he wants to run. He hasn’t even gotten ten minutes alone to—fuck, who knows? Scream? Cry? Pack his shit and run before having to face everyone with the mortification of not only getting a divorce, but also having this dinner become something his ‘husband’ literally walked out on. 

He will literally never live this down.

George rushes to take the pile of clothes and shove them into his open luggage on the ground. It’s messy but George doesn’t give a shit at this point. 

As he struggles to zip the bag up, it finally hits him. The tears start to pour from his eyes, like an overfilled bag is the straw that broke the camel’s back. His life is falling apart and this fucking bag is the reason. 

He starts to sob, tugging at the zipper knowing damn well it’s not going to close. The door behind him opens and he can’t bear to turn around or even quiet his sobs, just falling back to sit on his ass with defeat, ready to suffer through whatever lecture from whoever decided to come here to make him feel like shit. He doesn’t want to hear it from anyone, nor does he want to see the disappointment on their face. 

“Go away,” he says, wiping the tears on his face with the sleeve of his suit.

“We should talk.” It shouldn’t be surprising that it’s Dream’s voice ringing through the room but it makes him freeze anyway, instantly embarrassed that he’s very obviously crying on the floor of this room.

He tries to pull himself together, taking a deep breath and holding it so he doesn’t sob aloud. Tears come down his face silently and although he’s doing everything he can to put on a show, he knows he’s shaking and he knows the moment he speaks his voice will betray him. 

Dream lets him sit for a minute before his footsteps approach, sitting behind him close enough to feel but not enough to touch. “George,” Dream breathes, air tickling the back of his neck. 

“It’s fine,” George chokes out and he shakes his head. “We can file for a divorce as soon as we get back to Florida and I’ll go—I’ll go back home.” 

The words hurt more than before, less pissed and more… sad. It’s heartbreaking, there’s no better word for it. 

George was so naive to think that they could survive a divorce or a break up or—or whatever this even is. There’s no way George can get over this and mend his broken heart, not after everything. Not all the way back in the UK. 

“Florida is your home, George,” Dream whispers with a hand coming to rest on the center of his back, swiping his thumb back and forth. “I want you to come home. I’m sorry for—for making you feel like I don’t want you to.” 

He tries to scoff but all that comes out is a choked out sob, ready to deny Dream and throw back his own words at him, but Dream hushes him. It’s not rude and it’s not to stop George from speaking, rather to get George to calm down. 

While George’s body wracks with sobs, Dream gets closer behind George. He scoots forward and presses his chest to George’s back, arms coming around to grab smaller wrists in his own hands. George tries to fight, whining and pulling away but Dream’s arms are sturdy and unrelenting, so George lets him.

Dream rocks them back and forth as George’s cries quiet, turning into a sniffle. He apologizes again. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to leave.”

“It’s fine, I get it,” he replies, even though it’s not really true. It’s not fine. George isn’t fine. 

“No, George, we can’t just brush this off anymore.” Dream rests his chin on George’s shoulder and he hates that it’s comforting because the reason he needs comforting in the first place is Dream. “I should’ve never agreed to marry you.” 

George hates the admission that leaves Dream’s lips, even though it was never really unexpected. He figured Dream felt that way. It shouldn’t be a surprise. 

It still hits him in the gut, like he’s been punched ten times over. “I know.” That is all George can manage to say. 

“God, George, I’m sorry. I should have told you before marrying you but—I don’t know, I was just so desperate for you to be with me that—that—“

“It’s okay,” George says weakly, hoping that if he tells Dream it’s fine enough times, he’ll stop torturing the both of them with apologies. 

“It’s not. It's not okay and—and I don’t want to get a divorce because I don’t want to marry you, okay? We just—we were so—so different online. I thought we were like, I thought—“ Dream sighs and cuts off his own rambling. “I have feelings for you and I can’t go through with this knowing this is all… fake.”

George sniffles, face pinching as he unscrambles Dream’s rant. 

Something about feelings. He said that himself. Right? 

“I’m sorry, George, I know. But—but do you get it? Like, I don’t want to not be married to you, I—I do want to marry you. Just like, too much. You know?”

There’s a beat of silence. And another. 

And then George laughs, tears drying on his skin as he puts together Dream’s words.

Dream groans and pulls away, probably offended. George turns around to look at Dream, eyes red-rimmed and probably matching his own, but George is laughing. He can’t help it. 

“George, don’t be mean.” 

Another laugh. Dream rolls his eyes and starts to try getting off the ground. 

George gasps, rushing to tackle him onto the ground so his back is flat on the ground and George is on top of him. 

“Oh my god, you idiot,” George smiles, laughing again. “Do you know how many problems we could have avoided if you just told me that?” Dream’s face contorts, fighting between upset and relieved.

Instead of saying anything, George just rolls his eyes and leans to press a kiss to Dream’s lips. 

“Oh,” Dream says and then rolls his eyes, too. 

George kisses him again. “Can we stay married then?” George asks when he pulls away. 

It’s more of a joke than a real question but Dream wraps his hands around George’s waist. “Like, for real?”

With a nod, George tangles his fingers into the curls at the back of Dream’s head. “Yeah, like stay married but for real this time.”

Dream pokes his side and makes him squirm a little, both of them giggling. “We did this backwards,” Dream says. “First we got married, met, and then had a—oh my god.” 

At the same time, George sits up on Dream’s lap. “The dinner.”

They both jump up, trying to blink away the redness away in their eyes and make themselves presentable before running back to the restaurant. 

Dream drags George by the hand, just ahead of George as they giggle their way to the place. 

Before they go in, Dream stops dead in his tracks at the door. He turns serious, hands reaching either side of George’s face. “Are you sure you want this?”

George lifts his hands to rest on Dream’s. “If you’re asking if I’m sure about you, then yes. I’m sure, I’ve always been sure.” He tilts his chin, just enough that Dream leans down to kiss him. 

His kiss with Dream had already been perfect but something about knowing it’s reciprocated, that Dream wants him too, changes his perspective. 

“Okay,” Dream says as he pulls away. “Lucy is literally going to kill us.”

George checks his watch. Well, they missed pictures but at least they have a few minutes before the actual start of their dinner. “She’ll get over it,” he says. “Ready?”

Dream brings his hand to his chest to twist his ring, where it’s missing.

“Oh,” George grimaces. “I’m sorry. Does uh, does Sapnap have them?”

As if on cue, Sapnap runs up to them. “What the fuck is wrong with you two? Are you done being absolute bitches? It’s time to go,” he rushes, as if he knows they’ve made up. Maybe he saw them kiss again. The thought forces George to replay him walking in on them and he wants to melt into a puddle. 

“The rings, Sap,” Dream says and he nods. 

“Yeah, yeah, they’re—don’t worry, I took care of it. Dream lets go,” Sapnap says. “Go find your mom, George. She’s waiting.”

“My mum? Wait, Sap!” George calls but he’s already gone with Dream, not bothering to look back. 

He walks inside and sees his mum, who rushes up to him with a smile. “Oh thank god, sweetie, I was worried about you two. Everything okay?”

“Never better,” George smiles, letting her pull him into a hug. 

She lets go to straighten his tie and adjust his collar. “I love you, hun.”

“I love you, too.” 

Bea hooks her arm around George’s and walks him to the edge of the venue, standing at the curtain he peeked through before to find Dream gone. 

“Oh my god, mum, what did she do?” George hisses when a classical piece starts to play and he realizes that they are hooked together right now to walk down the aisle together.

“Sh, sh! It’s time, let’s go,” she says, leaning forward to open the curtain. 

He steps forward, eyes trained to the ground. 

His thoughts are quick as he steps in front of the few people that are there–too little for it to be a real wedding but too big to be considered a family dinner. His heart jackhammers in his chest, thudding so quickly that George can barely hear the music anymore. 

George never pictured this. Never. Not with Dream or anyone, really. He never even thought marriage was really in the cards for him but a mini wedding, walking down the aisle with his mum by his side and his family watching; that was just never something he thought he would experience. 

All of a sudden, George is extraordinarily worried that he’s going to fall flat on his face and make a fool out of himself on–on his wedding day. Yeah, fine, he’ll admit it. This is their wedding, right? Fuck. 

“Mum,” he whispers, still looking down and not moving. “Don’t let me fall.” 

He hears her soft laugh and she tightens her arm around his, grounding him. George can hear Dream’s voice in his head, telling him to take a deep breath and remember that he’s okay. 

“I won’t,” she promises. 

When Bea takes the first step forward, George finally looks up. His eyes instantly find Dream’s, easing all of his concerns, and takes his first step forward. 

The aisle feels infinite, though it’s smaller than most by a landslide. It just feels like George takes a million steps and it takes hours to reach Dream, who’s being sappy at the front with tears in his eyes. 

Damn, George thinks he’s the luckiest person on earth. 

When he finally reaches Dream, his mother pulls away and leaves a kiss on his cheek so gentle he thinks he can cry. Actually, are those tears? They might be–no, those are definitely tears. He laughs, letting Dream take his hand and bring him closer, and Dream laughs too. 

They listen to some random person talk and they say the typical vows and thank god Lucy didn’t make them say actual vows because they didn’t prepare–

Dream. 

Of course Dream wants to say real vows. 

He rambles so–so lovingly about George; the day they met to this moment right here, and things in between. The good and the bad, the lack of perfection between them but the chemistry that makes them possible. That he appreciates George and loves George with his entire heart, and his promises. His promise of unconditional love and loyalty. 

And then, as if this weren’t bad enough, it’s George’s turn and he’s crying and emotional. 

“Oh god,” George sniffles, making the crowd laugh. “I wasn’t prepared. Like, bro just wrote poetry.” He hears Dream laugh from across him while he stares at the ground. “Um, honestly, I don’t know what to say,” is the first thing he tells Dream. “I never believed in love. Not–not in the way that you see in the movies or is actually life changing, you know? I always expected it to be–to be hard, but love isn’t hard with you.” 

The crowds aw’s at his words but he swallows the lump in his throat, determined to say these words as they’re falling off his tongue. “We met and we became best friends and we, I don’t know, we fell in love across an ocean. Like, how were we so lucky to fall into each other’s lap like this? Like–it’s like we’re meant to be together.” George is running out of steam, the words not coming naturally like they do for Dream. “Uh, so, yeah,” George says, making a funny grimace with a shrug. “I just love you.” 

George ends it there–awkward but enough to get Dream to cry, though it doesn’t take much. He’s an emotional guy and that’s okay. George thinks it’s a good thing. 

They start their ring exchange, one with their already existing rings, and then they’re kissing. 

Dream’s lips are slotted between his own, both of them grinning into the kiss as their family and closest friends erupt around them. 

“Hey!” George yells loudly over the cheering when they pull away, forehead to forehead. “I meant all that, you know. I love you!” 

Rolling his eyes, Dream kisses his lips quickly again. “I love you, too, idiot.” 

They pull away and as they start to walk down the aisle before actually ordering dinner, Heatwaves starts playing on the speakers. 

George stops walking, shocked with a laugh of disbelief. “What the fuck?” 

When he looks up at Dream, he’s giggling so hard with his head thrown back and his free hand on his belly.

To be fair, it is kind of funny. He throws a fake glare at Lucy but smiles when Dream pulls him in to dance instead of walking the rest of the way, he lets him and screams about late nights in the middle of June at the top of his lungs.