Dont read this, this is just for stories i want read

pillowfort

Dream was being dumb. Scratch that – he’s always dumb. When George proposed that they get a bigger bed, Dream just scoffed.

“The bed is way too small! It’s too damn hot in fucking Florida and you’re practically a human furnace!” George cried out.

“The bed is perfectly fine. If you’re that hot just take off your clothes” Dream argued.

“I did! Then you kept touching me and begging me to let you fuck me!”

“I don’t see the problem with that?”

“The problem is that I want to sleep! I can’t do that if it’s too hot!” George waved his hands around exasperatedly.

“I mean- you always fall asleep after we fuck”

“Then we’d have to fuck every night!” George continued; hands thrown up in frustration.

“I don’t see the problem with that?” George distinctly remembered slamming the bathroom door in front of Dream, who was earlier begging to fuck in the shower.

So now George was sitting on the toilet for the past 15 minutes, ignoring the incessant knocking outside, intent on giving Dream the silent treatment until he relented on buying a new bed. The logical solution would be to just turn up the air conditioning. But that would be expensive. A larger bed would be cheaper in the long run. Temperature aside, they really did need a new bed. The size was borderline too small, often resulting in George half sprawled on top of Dream like a starfish, or both of them so tangled up that their tosses and turns pushed them out of bed and wake up sore on the ground.

They were in a bit of an impasse. And it sucked that Dream kept banging the door- was he really that clingy? -  when he was trying to think of another solution for them. He did his best thinking sitting on the toilet, after all. Whatever. George was sure he would come up with something later, although that still wouldn’t stop the silent treatment.

He stood up from the toilet, like a king rising from his throne, all regal and ready to roam his 832 square feet land, starting with the kitchen. Because he was hungry.

Once washed up, he opened the bathroom door, only for the wind to be knocked out of him, feet stumbling as Dream shoved past him. He was about to snap at him when he saw Dream scurry with the dignity of a court jester into the bathroom, slamming the door closed. Then he heard a slow trickle of piss, followed by a sigh of relief.

Oh. Whoops.

-/-

Dream looked confused when George didn’t serve a kiss to his cheek along with his plate of breakfast. He looked even more confused when he saw his breakfast, and then George’s.

“George?”

George didn’t answer. The silence was deafening.

“George. Your piece of toast is in the shape of a cute bear- which I found and bought those cookie cutters myself by the way- and you just gave me the scraps. Which is 80% crust. You didn’t even like, crack an egg in it like you sometimes do,” Dream whined, plucking the crust with only his thumb and pointer finger, like he just fished it out of the trash, leering it with distaste.

George simply sipped his glass of milk, slurping sounds echoing in their apartment. He didn’t even make eye-contact with him, opting to stare at Dream’s glass of orange juice, knowing he had just brushed his teeth. George never knew he could be so malicious.

“Geeoooooorge,” he continued whining.

Go make your own breakfast then he wanted to say. George kept ignoring him.