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

Birthday Wishes (After Hours)

Their legs touch in comfort as they sit next to each other on Dream’s fancy couch, George a book in his hands, Dream mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Every flick of a page reminds Dream of the wonderful man’s company, making him smile each time, without fail. A late October storm rushes through the streets outside, and raindrops hit against the window mercilessly. Inside though, the world seems like a different place. Warm, happy, filled with a sense of content.

“What do you want to do for your birthday?” Dream suddenly asks, breaking the pleasant silence.

“Hmm?” George responds in a soft hum, finishing reading a sentence before he looks next to him, meeting with the green eyes of his boyfriend.

“Your birthday, what do you wanna do?” Dream repeats, smiling warmly upon seeing the other’s questioning eyes.

“Oh, we don’t need to do anything,” George answers nonchalantly, turning his head back to his book. Dream frowns slightly at the underwhelming response, having hoped George had any wishes he could fulfill.

“Are you sure?” Dream continues, turning his body to snuggle up against George, laying his head at his shoulder. “I can take you anywhere you want, you name it and we do it,” he adds, squeezing the back of George’s neck softly in affirmation.

“It’s really fine, I don’t like birthdays that much anyway,” George says, leaning into Dream more as well. “We both need to work, we can just— I don’t know, get McDonald’s on the way home or something?” he tries to compromise. Dream shakes his head slightly, moving his hand up a little to play with the long locks at the back of George’s head.

“George—”

“No, don’t ‘George’ me, I already know what you’re going to say,” he chuckles softly, putting his book down as he realizes Dream is going to keep him from reading any further.

“What was I going to say then?” Dream challenges him, not willing to admit defeat yet. He can and will do something for his lover on his birthday, even if George can’t think of something himself.

“The same you always say, about how you’re the boss, so we can skip work if we want, all of that,” George cites, laying his cheek against Dream’s soft, freshly washed hair. It smells faintly of sandalwood and honeysuckle.

“But it’s true,” Dream argues, watching George pull up his legs onto the couch as well to snuggle up more comfortably against Dream’s side. “You never make use of it, bear.”

“Because one, we don’t need to,” George rebuts, “and two, it’s unfair treatment, and you agreed we were going to avoid that.” Dream huffs in disagreement but decides it’s not worth the fuss to go against him on the subject.

“Okay, fine,” Dream responds reluctantly, curling George’s hair around his fingers. “So what are we doing after work?”

“As I said, get McDonald’s,” George laughs. His partner’s stubbornness is both one of the things he finds so charming, and one of the things he sometimes wants to -figuratively- strangle him for.

“What, you want to celebrate by eating chicken nuggets?” Dream mocks. George’s shoulders shake softly with his chuckle, making a smile appear on Dream’s face too.

“Finally you get it,” he jokes, wrapping his arm around Dream’s back, rubbing gentle circles into his shirt, much to Dream’s satisfaction.

“I know better things you can stuff your mouth with—”

“I swear to God Dream, do not finish that sentence,” George cuts him short, causing a roaring laugh to erupt from Dream.

“Fine, McDonald’s then,” Dream gives in when their giggles die down. “And after that?”