mcyt oneshots

luv note {dnf}

This was written in collaboration with @/putthycat over on ao3

The playlist is here! - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0RggWsMAIJc9sOUhDf72mF?si=SryFBBIBQZaWUQxchnpZbA&utm_source=copy-link and each song represents one of the notes that Dream writes :)

The soft ‘ding’ of an arriving elevator caught Dream’s attention from the boardroom, where interns were struggling to set up the morning presentation in front of the long table of impatient businesspeople.
 
An unkempt delivery man carrying a, frankly, massive bouquet was teetering towards the glassed-in meeting room. Dream realized, partially horrified, that the secretary that usually stood guard of their floor was occupied with taking notes; a job that hardly seemed fair seeing as he could barely keep up with the boss's speech.
 
There was simply no room for distractions and yet… 
 
“One delivery for- uhh- George David-Davidson?”
 
The voice arrived with a few weak knocks and some shuffling, as the sea of lower-level employees parted in a series of comical missteps that resulted with at least one spilt coffee and plenty of scattered leaves trampled under expensive shoes and Dream simply couldn't suppress his grin.
 
It had all started less than a week ago; their boss had called the pair of them into his office for an impromptu meeting of sorts. After psyching the other up in the lobby outside momentarily, the duo shuffled in, masking nervousness with bolstering bravado, chests puffed, shooting contentious glances to the other as the boss started to speak. The reason that they had been called in, he explained, was that one of them was to be offered a promotion at the end of the month. Whomever worked the hardest, produced the best work for the company would be offered it, along with a rather handsome bonus too. 
 
Him and George had always been at each other's throats. They knew it, their friends knew it - hell - the whole office knew it, and they weren't exactly quiet about it. They were both hired by the company through a competitive internship programme that they were scouted for fresh out of high school, George, from the international secondary school he attended over in the UK and Clay from his local high school in Florida, and, from the moment they arrived, it had begun. At first, it wasn't so much of a matter that they hated each other, moreso that they had no desire to be amicable. They hardly ever spoke to each other and even when they did, they only exchanged the bare minimum. After their supervisor had encouraged them to collaborate on a project, assuming that would bring friendly encouragement, aid to the other when needed and a general increase in productivity, they couldn't have been more wrong. To put it simply, they could not work together. The bickering was constant, little jabs at the other's interactions, snide remarks about mistakes in the coding and from there it only grew. Despite having been in the same department and at the same authoritative level during their entire career at the company, the pair were always sat at desks as far as humanly possible from the other. And of course, this was accommodated, even encouraged by their colleagues; there was nothing that they wanted to hear less than the two of them squabbling like primary school children.
 
Still, Dream hadn't thought much of it, if he was being honest. He was confident in his ability - his ability to be better than George, that was - but there was still a nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that it just might not be enough. He wanted this promotion, he needed this promotion, especially with the landlord increasing his and Nick's rent starting next month. And so, when he saw an advert on the subway for flowers hand-delivered to your lover's home or workplace, an idea was sparked. He knew that he probably shouldn't, and that playing dirty would likely come back and bite him in the ass sometimes but he just couldn't help it. The idea was simply too good.
 
And so when he got home, he rung the number he had meticulously scrawled onto the back of his hand, asking in his best southern charm for the biggest bouquet he could buy to be delivered as soon as possible (which happened to be just under a week later), even going as far as to write a cheesy message too. Yes, this was a waste of money he didn't have and yes, this very well might have done just nothing but the glee he felt at the prospect of throwing George off his game with a secret admirer, maybe even humiliating him a little too? It was worth it. And the promotion and bonus that he was going to get? They would cover it.
 
“Oh fuck,” Dream heard Nick mutter under his breath in amusement. If anyone was enjoying the chaos, it would be him. Further up the table, closer to what was surely about to become the disastrous epicentre, Karl was leaning back in his seat (much further than what was appropriate for a business meeting), gesturing for the poor delivery man to come closer. Next to him, Nick stifled a laugh and looked to Dream before nodding in George’s direction.
 
The aforementioned was seated, of course , as close to their boss as humanly possible. Dream would’ve rolled his eyes thinking about just how much of a fucking suck up George was if he hadn’t been completely delighted with the rate at which his usually pale complexion was darkening. He was trying to push back from his chair, eyes wide in the quietest panic he could manage. 
 
From behind the bouquet, the chipper deliveryman was oblivious to the fact that he was single-handedly dismantling corporate America. “Is there a George Davidson here? I’ve got a delivery for Mr. Davidson!” 
 
Somehow, their boss was still prattling off to the stenographer. The commotion hadn’t quite reached the upper echelon that sat at the front of the table. Well, surely it had, but those suits had stuck so far up their asses that their ears were probably plugged up too. 
 
“George- ow! George Davidson?” Someone had stepped on the delivery man's toe and he’d doubled over, just far enough to wack Karl in the head and shower pink petals over half the table. Nick actually snorted as Karl began giggling. Truthfully, the rest of the boardroom looked poised to burst at any second too.
 
Finally, finally, George managed to roll back his chair with a squeak of leather that would’ve made any good New York businessman ill, the clatter of expensive metal trappings against an even pricier wood floor confirming that he had, in fact, run over someone’s briefcase. “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he muttered, more angrily than Dream wished to admit, and waved off an intern on his way to collect what was, apparently, his. 
 
“But-” the intern stammered in a very non-intern-like way. Usually, they were quiet and reserved, but this must’ve been one of the entitled ones who’d made it into the program on privilege alone—the kid of a major investor or one of Manhattan’s elite or, or… shit. 
 
“Alright, what the hell is going on?!” Their boss rose and the entire room fell silent. For a second, Dream almost felt bad for George. He’d had the misfortune of upsetting the intern, better known as the president’s son. The kid was a fucking brat, something which Dream presumed that under the right conditions even their boss would admit to - but the president’s son nonetheless. 
 
“I’m looking for a George-” The delivery man started again.
 
“I’m here! Me! I’m George!” He was so anxious, so utterly caught off guard, that Dream could’ve sworn he heard his voice crack. “But I didn’t order any-” 
 
“Listen Mr Davidson, all I know is I’ve got a flower delivery for you at 8 with an attached message. So, here are the flowers,” he hoisted the bouquet into George’s arms, and Dream watched him sway under the weight of it, “and here’s the message. Enjoy!” The delivery man elbowed his way out, as George spun around, agape. 
 
“Well, Davidson?” Their boss looked on expectantly, arms crossed, “What’s the message?” 
 
George exhaled a huffy little laugh that honestly sounded more like a panicked gag, and clutched the bouquet under one arm, trying to minimize the interaction altogether. “I’m so sorry sir, I know we’re busy. My apologies, I really had no idea this was going to happen- I don’t even know who- ”
 
As he reseated himself, he tucked the flowers under the table with a fabulously guilty crinkle of cellophane. “Davidson,” their boss continued in a tone that meant whatever he said next was very much not optional. “you clearly have no issue handling personal matters at the expense of company time. So, stand up, share with the class.” 
 
Oh, it was just too good. Dream barely refrained from tucking his hands behind his head as he settled into George’s show. It was a masterpiece as far as he was concerned, from the shake of George’s rosy hands as he lifted the floral mess onto the table and detached the card, to the gaudy heart-shaped seal on the envelope, and then, of course, the pièce de résistance: glitter, and lots of it, wafting gently from the opened note over the half of the table that wasn’t already covered in petals. Even the top-of-the-table suits, arguably George’s people, looked annoyed now. And hey, it was too cheesy to win any Oscars, but Dream couldn’t even bite back the prideful grin spreading across his face as he mouthed George’s lines with him from across the table.
 
“Good- good luck with your presentation today, uhh- baby, and then there’s an- err- smiley face.” 
 
Well, he would’ve preferred less stammering but the way the flush renewed around his rival’s neck, he looked like he could’ve just melted into the floor; he was going to dream about this moment. 
 
Their boss scoffed and Dream returned to reality.
 
“And on that note, who’s presenting first today?” The meeting was silent as the rest of the boardroom tried to work out the math on only their first coffees of the day. The office wasn’t host to rumour or anything, but George? Having a partner? George? It was certainly news. 
 
“C’mon people!” Their boss banged a palm flat against the desk, and there was a collective jump from his staff as they remembered they were gathered for a business meeting and not to gawk at the rom-com-esque love the most unsociable among them apparently had. He raised his voice, “This company doesn’t run itself and this city doesn’t fuckin’ sleep, so why am I hearing crickets?!”
 
And George, for a reason that Dream could not identify but knew was precisely the reason he despised him, spoke timidly, “Well, sir I believe I was supposed to-"
 
“For Christs’s sake Davidson, don’t you think you’ve contributed enough?” George shut right up. “Dream, let’s hear from you, I always like what you have to say.” 
 
“Yes, sir! I’d love the opportunity to show you what I’ve been working on.” He stood and circled around to the presentation screen. George was glaring at him, eyes dark as chocolate, and it was delicious. He didn’t need to but— “I think you’ll find that my ideas really improve user-interface, which should really appeal to our older demographic,” there was still time to stop himself but the entire table already looked like a bridal shower it exploded, and to be fair, it would be funny . “Hey, George?”
 
Their boss gave him a wary glance, and George looked like he wanted to die.
 
“What.” 
 
Dream carried on with an infuriating air of naivety, “Do you even know what half those flowers are in that bouquet?” 
 
“Sorry, what?” He sounded genuinely confused now, and Dream nodded, raising his eyebrows as if to ask again. “No, no I don’t.” 
 
"Precisely!” He announced as if he were pitching water to a fish. It’s not as if he knew what made up the arrangement either, those leaves could be lettuce for all he knew, but he was a software engineer, not a botanist, it wasn’t important. “That’s exactly what’s going on with our older patrons,” he clarified for his boss, “they don’t understand what half the options are on the app- just like Davidson here.” 
 
“Ha! Good one!” His boss nodded approvingly, “Keep it up, Dream.” 
 
He took it in stride, riding high on the praise, but mostly the absolutely murderous look George was regarding his presentation with. His presentation- the man wouldn’t even meet his eyes. 
 
Dream held back a mean-spirited chuckle and continued, “Yes, well, if you look at these designs you’ll see that I’ve s-simplified the-” he paused to rub his nose, “I’ve s-stream-l-lined, sorry, just a s-second.” Inexplicably, his nose had begun to itch, and he waved over an intern for a tissue. “As I was saying I-” he sneezed. And it wasn’t a little one either. It was loud and ugly, the kind when you’ve actually got something to sneeze out. “I- I-” more sneezing, more loud sneezing. He couldn’t help it, and the itch, tickle, whatever it was had moved to occupy his throat too. 
 
Through watery eyes, Dream saw his boss rubbing him temple. He meant to apologize but the sneezing just. would. not. stop. 
 
“Dream just - bless you - why don’t you take a moment to compose yourself. Bless you- outside if you wouldn’t mind, and Nick, why don’t you begin while Dream is… recovering.” 
 
He sat up in his chair, clearly unprepared for the prompt and flashed a diplomatic smile, “Oh I’d love to but I really think that Karl should go before me.”
 
Karl shot him a sickened glance from the other side of the table, “No, no. Nick’s just being humble-”
 
“Ah, but I really piggyback off your idea, wouldn’t you say?”
 
“I swear to god,” he heard his boss say, “I don’t care who goes first but if someone isn’t in front of me in 30 seconds giving me the best presentation of my goddamn life- it will be both of your asses.”
 
Dream was too busy sniffling and holding back what was, truthfully, an obscene amount of sneezes to pay much mind to their antics but he did notice how much worse the itching got when he walked past George to get to his briefcase. Itching barely cut it at this point, it was burning now and he was breathing in short, wheezy little gasps that felt gravelly in his throat and oh my god. It was the fucking flowers, wasn’t it? Some stupid fucking flowers with karmic pollen or some shit. Yes, it was ridiculous, but he wasn’t willing to put it past George. 
 
After sniffing and sneezing and wiping his eyes for another five minutes he finally gave in and practically ran to the nearest store for a packet of antihistamines or something of the sort, choking them down as quickly as he could before taking a breather in the lovely fresh clean New York air whilst he waited for it to kick in.
 
When he returned, he slid back into the business room just in time to hear George giving the end of his presentation and the boss… praising him. His heart sank as he watched on, any disdain that the boss had previously held for George had practically vanished as he ate up every word George said, clapping him on the back when he sat back down, before finally looking up.
 
"Dream! So lovely to have you back." He chuckled, George shooting him a smug look as if he didn't have a gargantuan vase of flowers beside him, and it made Dream want to gag. "Are you feeling better?"
 
"Yes- I mean, I'm fine." He tried to remain professional but nothing irked him more than patronisation, "thank you. Would you like me to finish off my presentation then?"
 
“That would be great.” The boss said dismissively, before turning to George once again, “Davidson, fantastic work like always, I look forward to seeing that prototype you were speaking about.” 
 
George gave him a subtle smirk as Dream walked up to the front of the boardroom, pulling out his laptop to present once again. The boss was pleased with his - not quite to the same degree that he was raving about George, but he was pleased with it. For a normal person, this would have been fine, good, even. But for Dream? For Dream, if it wasn’t the best, if it wasn’t better than George’s , then, quite simply, it wasn’t good enough.
 
And so the rest of the day was spent working, and working, and working some more. His code had to be flawless. His ideas, revolutionary. He skipped his lunch break, didn’t even get up to get a drink, but then at four o’clock, something managed to rouse him of his work-coma. That thing being George and his god-awful flowers.
 
At first, he thought something was tickling his nose. He ignored it, rubbing it quickly before setting back to what he was doing. But then he started sneezing again, and he turned to be faced with a massive fucking bouquet and an even bigger dickhead. 
 
“What do you want? Can’t you see I’m doing something?” Dream barely let his eyes stray from the screen for more than a second, his words flat and unemotional.
 
“Just wondering what’s got you working so hard today, that’s all.” George laughed, but the words held no care, only malice.
 
“I just wanted to be productive today? I don’t know, leave me the fuck alone.” It wasn’t a lie but half of the truth was certainly missing. Dream wasn’t going to give George the satisfaction of knowing that he was the cause of his sudden motivation.
 
“Well, I thought I’d bring you a gift!” George gave him a mischievous grin, before placing the vase stuffed full of flowers right in the middle of Dream’s desk, “you seemed to like them earlier on.” George turned to stroll away but not before Dream grabbed his hand and swung him around roughly.
 
“You little bitch! I- I” sneeze , “I can’t believe you-” sneeze , “that you’d do that! What the hell is your problem.” sneeze . George only smirked in response, and Dream felt his brain run red-hot, “besides, isn’t it a little rude to give your sweetheart's gift to someone else?” He spoke quickly, only just getting the final word out before sneezing once again, blindly grasping for the antihistamine in his bag which had frustratingly worn off.
 
“What are you- what do you mean- I don’t love- I don’t have a sweetheart?!” George spluttered, going red and bingo . Dream had to try so hard to not blow his cover, to seem impartial but it was oh so tempting to just laugh at how easily he’d made George come undone, and by pretending to be some secret admirer as well!
 
“I mean I can’t say I’m surprised, really. Who the fuck would want to date you?” 
 
“Like you’re talking? I haven’t seen your girlfriend at any of the office parties yet.” George shot back, his words a little more calm but his face just as flushed.
 
“Girlfriend?” Dream sniggered, trying not to burst out laughing “Not that it is any of your business at all, but I have never had a girlfriend, and I never plan on getting one.”
 
“What, ‘cus there’s no way a woman would ever want to get near you?” 
 
“No, George. Because I’m gay .” Dream deadpanned and the look on George’s face was priceless .
 
“I- well- uhh- I haven’t seen a boyfriend either!”
 
“Yeah, ‘cus my love life is none of your business. Now take your girlfriend's flowers and fuck off.”
 
Dream ran off the high that came from winning that petty spat for the rest of the afternoon, and the moment he got home, he knew what he had to do.