A Demonic Dance

Chapter Nine: Spaghetti

After getting lost a many multitude of times the two finally arrived back at the apartment, relaxing in to the heat given off by the readily needed radiators that had turned Georges happy home into a large microwave.

"Ah, sweet sweet home." Dream exclaimed, talking in a deep breath of air before splaying himself out on the sofa, making George shake his head in annoyance before he left Dream in the room alone.

Dream closed his eyes as he leans his head back against the sofa. He was tired as hell. Today has probably been the most productive he'd been since, well, probably since he died, but even then he wasn't really a productive person.

A smile was brought to his lips as he though back on their time at the beach today, the abominable screeches George had let out as he'd lobbed him in to the ocean and the flustered looks he'd worn as he was pinned to the ground beneath him.

A sight which Dream couldn't deny he wouldn't mind seeing more often.

Dream glanced up, staring at the ceiling though lidded eyes. There was something about George, his laugh, his smile, the stupid questions he would ask.

He wasn't like any humans Dream had met before, although yes Dream was human once, after you become a devil you seem to notice things you wouldn't see before, viewing things differently. You tend to be able to read and understand the pesky humans easier, yet there was something Dream just couldn't put his finger on something about George, and it made him eager to find out more.

"Heya Dream." George's voice called from behind him, Dream sitting up and turning to look at him.

"Hmm?" Dream replied. George was standing at one of the Kitchen cupboards, looking inside as if to find something to eat.

His hair was wet once more which undoubtedly meant he had had a shower whilst Dream had been zoned out. He had changed out of his trousers and now spotted a pair of loose blue pyjama bottoms, however on his top he still sported Dreams oversized hoodie which the taller couldn't deny was already growing on him. He looked cute. Really cute.

"What do you want for tea?" George asked, pulling some items out the cupboard after staring at them confused.

"For what?" Dream replied. For tea? Like what flavour of tea? Is there more than one?

"For tea." George repeated again, this time gazing Dream as if they would make him understand more.

Dream just stared back at him blankly.

"Sorry, I mean Dinner."

"How the hell did you get from tea to dinner." Dream asked, even more confused then before. How? Was this man like, dropped on the head as a child.

"It's a British thing!" George exclaimed, huffing at Dreams lack of believing.

"Yeah it still doesn't make sense though."

"Dream just, just answer the question."

"Umm Spaghettie?" Dream suggested.

"Spaghetti, sure." George replied, grabbing some pasta out of a cupboard and then other ingredients out of their respective cupboards before standing, staring at it like a deer in the headlights.