33 - Westley

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A/N - 4500+ babes; not as heavy as the previous one. It's a little happier, so I hope you enjoy (unless yall are angsters, then you're gonna have to wait smh). Get a snack, chocolate-covered pretzels are my recommendation, and Arizona tea please. Get comfy my loves.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

✧✧✧

-A week and a half later in mid-October-

George pulled up to the all too familiar house that had an old tire swing still tied to the big magnolia tree on the front lawn. He put the car in park and turned down the music playing softly through the speakers. He picked up his phone and sent a quick text to Dream that he was there.

A few minutes later, George witnessed a slightly disheveled Dream stumble out of his house. A duffle bag thrown lazily over his shoulder, his cleats hung around his neck. One hand juggled his keys and phone while the other held his helmet and water bottle. It took Dream considerable effort to lock his front door. George just watched with amusment. His fingers slid over the lock button on his door.

When Dream was just a few feet away, he clicked. Hands struggling on the handle, Dream pulled. George smiled. Dream glared at him. He pulled the locked door again. George laughed and leaned back in his seat. "Come on man," Dream huffed, violently pulling the door handle now. George snickered and unlocked the door. 

Dream shoved his stuff in the back seat, careful not to let his cleats touch the leather of George's seats. When he was finally settled in the front seat George greeted, "Good morning." Dream ran his hand across his forehead and brushed his hair back, "Mornin'" he said before leaning towards George and giving him a short peck on the lips. The other's eyes widened slightly. He was still getting used to that. It was weird to him that he even fathomed the idea of getting used to something like that. It was like his brain was confused yet content at the same time. It was... discombobulating, to say the least.

"Sorry it took me so long, I slept in." Dream said, clicking his seatbelt in because George refused to start driving unless it was on. The other shrugged, put the car into drive, and pulled away onto the road. "Don't sweat it."

Tomorrow was the state championships. This season it was taking place in Fort Lauderdale, which was a few hour drive. The teams are supposed to be at Lauderdale Hotel today at noon so they could get everything and everyone settled for tomorrow. It was currently 10:30 am, which meant that Dream and George will make it on time if he sped just a teensy, tiny bit on the freeway.

According to Instagram and Harley Prep's page, they were going to be Sage Coast's opponent. Dream seems more or less excited about that fact. George knew why. He thought it was ridiculous, maybe even a little immature. Whatever get's him through the game, I guess.

"I'm actually kinda excited for this." Dream says, fiddling with the material of his jeans. George rose a brow. He knew that Dream didn't over-obsess and love football like a lot of other people did. Really, he just played because it was fun. Not because his life depended on it. "That's new."

Dream shot a glare to the other, "What's that supposed to mean?" he asks incredulously. There was no malice in his tone. George shrugged, "It's nice seeing you all pumped for a game. That's all." Dream narrowed his eyes but didn't respond. George turned up the music as he merged onto the freeway.

In content silence George simply focused on the road. Dream was staring ahead, his hand placed gently on George's thigh. It was a simple action with not too much meaning behind it but still, George couldn't help but try and suffocate those butterflies splitting his chest open like a grenade. 

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