Just One Night // DNF

28 - Liar Liar Pants On Fire

A/N - 5000 Another on loves, enjoy. Get sum to eat and drink babes. Get comfy too, a place with lots of blankets and where it's very dark, and private ;) <3

"Liar liar pants on fucking fire."

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"Holy shit it's dark in here." Dream mumbles, walking through the door. George hummed in agreement, stumbling towards the wall with no real understanding of his surroundings. He slaps the wall a few times, trying to find the switch. When his fingers snag on raised plastic, he presses them, lighting up the hallway along with the porch light. They both blink against the brightness, eyes squinted. 

George sighs and kicks his shoes off. So quiet. With one hand on the wall for stability, he kicks the shoes over to the side by the shoe rack that he never really used. His mom has yelled at him pointless times to put them in their place, but he never really felt like it. He kicked the door shut softly, locking it.

Dream stepped further into the house, towards the kitchen, and set the bags of groceries they just bought on the island. George followed, placing the single bag Dream allowed him to carry on the counter as well. He walked over to the wall and flicked on the kitchen light. Dream was already unpacking the groceries. 

George started too as well, collecting the bags to place under the sink for later use. Dream sighed, glanced at the clock that read a few minutes past 9, and ran a hand through his hair. "Didn't realize it was so late."

George snorted, placing the fruit they bought, since he had every intention of buying them earlier, in the fridge. His empty fridge. When was the last time anyone in that house actually went to the store and bought real food? "9 is not late to us, and you know it."

Dream nodded, opening up a cabinet and frowning, "True, very true." He opened another, then another, and let out a small, frustrated sigh. George almost found it cute. He crossed his arms and leaned against the marble island, "Whatcha looking for?" he asked, knowing damn well what Dream was looking for. He shot a knowing look at the other.

"Back wall, the second cabinet to the right of the stove," George said with a small smile. Dream nodded, turned around, counted, actually counted the cabinets for whatever reason, and opened it. He hummed in approval, taking out a small pot for the pasta and a skillet for the chicken. He shut the white wooden doors and placed the pot and pan on the stove. George slid into a chair at the kitchen island.

Dream turned around, his back leaning against the stove, hitting the burner dials. He narrowed his eyes at the other, "Whatcha doing?" He asked, arms crossed over his chest. George shrugged, his hands spread out on the cool marble. "Watching you romance me." He said with a smile that wasn't convincing enough because Dream rolled his eyes and rounded the island, dragging George out of his seat and to the empty pot on the stove.

"You said you knew how to boil water." Dream says with a smug grin that almost made George punch him. He huffed, "I hate the kitchen." He mumbled. "I'm like my mom. I burn things. I might just set the fire alarm off when I turn the stove on!" George exasperated, looking at the pot as if it was his mortal enemy. Dream stifled a laugh. 

"You are not going to set off the fire alarm by boiling water." Dream reassured, amused.

George shook his head, "You'd be surprised." 

Dream narrowed his eyes at him in a challenge.

George narrowed them back and said, "I once tried making pasta on my own and it ended up on the ceiling." 

Dream blinked at him.

George blinked back.

Dream burst into laughter.