Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“George… I think it’s time you learn the kitchen.”

George felt the colour drain from his face. He stared at Phil with wide eyes, mouth open slightly.

“The kitchen?” he asked, trying to not sound so incredibly intimidated.

Phil chuckled at his obvious distress, twirling in his chair to face the computer screen. George stood awkwardly by the door that lead into the small office in the very back of their McDonald's.

It was an early Sunday morning at the end of April. George had a shift between 8:30 A.M. and 7 P.M.

“The only people who don’t know everything are you, Karl and Niki who only know service and DT. Then Nick, and a couple of the older guys who only know the kitchen. Before summer break, we gotta make sure people can float as much as possible,” Phil explained. He turned back to George again. “The OEPE is at 146 and the R2P is at 160, by the way. Good job so far.”

“T-thanks,” George stuttered.

“Don’t worry about the kitchen, George. When you know everything you’re gonna ask yourself why the heck you were so scared,” Phil smiled. “I called in Clay. He’s coming at 11, so in about 35, to go through some stuff with you.”

“ Clay? ” George’s eyes got impossible wider. “Clay is teaching me the kitchen?”

“He seemed very enthusiastic.”

“Jesus…” George exhaled.

“Alright. Get back out there. Don’t leave Niki alone with both the in-store and DT.”

-

Dream showed up 34 minutes later, smiling widely. 

He sauntered in, arms crossed over his black McDonald’s shirt. George couldn’t help but notice how fucking hot he looked, all confident and secure, and almost messed up the drive-through order as a result. Niki had to remind him to hand out the dip sauces.

“Morning George, morning Niki,” Dream said, meeting their eyes - lingering on George - before making his way to the kitchen to greet Phil and Tommy.

“Morning, Clay,” Niki replied, smiling. Once Dream was out of earshot, she turned to George with an arched eyebrow. “Are you going to be able to contain yourself?”

George rolled his eyes, toying absentmindedly with a straw. “He’s teaching me the kitchen today."

“How’s that gonna go?” she laughed.

“Terribly, knowing us,” George sighed. “Have you heard from Karl?”

“Nope. It’s been radio silence since he and Sap started dating.”

“They’re so much worse than me and Dream oh my god,” he laughed.

Just then, Tommy walked up to the front to get something to drink. “Who’s worse than Dream? And how? ” 

“Nothing,” Niki said quickly.

Tommy eyed them suspiciously. “You lot are keeping secrets.”

“We’re allowed to keep secrets from children,” George smirked.

“I’m telling Wilbur.”

“You'll say you're a grown man one day and scream for your big brother the next,” George laughed, throwing the now bent straw in the trash.

“George!” came Phil’s voice from the kitchen. “Grab a cap and an apron and get in here! Line two with Clay!”

Niki giggled quietly at George’s petrified expression. “Good luck!”

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned, making a face at Niki before he went to the back to grab one of the aprons and caps from the wall. He put them both on, adjusting the different straps to make it fit well before he stalked to the kitchen.

Dream eyed him up and down as soon as he was in view. George could see the way the corners of his lips quivered with the desire to smirk.

“I feel so ridiculous in this hat,” George groaned, pressing the black McDonald’s cap further onto his head.

Dream tutted, pushing his hands away. “You’re messing up your hair,” he said quietly.

Phil said nothing about the interaction, too deep in his papers. 

“Shut up, Dream,” George muttered and readjusted his hat again.

Then, Phil looked up with a smile. “Alright. If there’s too big of a rush I want you to go back to the front, George. But we have Niki and me there, for now, Wilbur gets on in 15 and then Becca in 40. We should be fine is what I’m trying to say,” he said. He then turned to Dream, pointing a pen at him. “Teach him everything. Nothing is too dumb, okay? If there’s nothing to do, show him around the fridge and freezer.”

“I know the fridge and freezer,” George quipped.

“Yeah, the service parts,” Dream chuckled. “Do you know where the cheddar is?”

George rolled his eyes. 

“I’m gonna leave you to it now. Clay, you got Tommy on line one, Nick is joining him in 30 when his shift starts. Okay?” Phil said.

“Yes, boss,” Dream replied with a big smile. Next to him, George just nodded.

With a final pointed look at Dream, Phil returned to the office to do whatever. George wasn’t sure.

“So, Gogy, ” Dream smirked, bumping his hip against George’s. “What do you know already?”

George glared at him, “ George ."

Dream leaned closer, putting his lips right against George’s ear. “What about pup ?”

The brunet shoved him back, a bright red blush building on his cheeks. Dream laughed at the sight.

“I hate you, oh my God,” George hissed, hands pressing onto his warm cheeks. “There are people here!”

“I am fully aware,” Dream said. He turned towards the front, giving Niki a wave. “Hey, Niki! Did you dye your hair again? It looks nice!”

Niki smiled and arched an eyebrow at Dream as she bagged a medium fries. “I did, thank you. How’s teaching going?”

Dream wrapped an arm around George’s shoulder, pulling him into his side. “Going great!”

George groaned loudly.

-

Two hours and a rush that had George frantically running between service and kitchen, Phil told George and Dream to take 45.

“Both of us?” George asked as he happily released his brown hair from underneath the ballcap. 

“Clay’s on your schedule. He wasn’t supposed to work today, so we don’t need him when you’re not on the clock,” Phil explained.

“Alright.”

“I’m so hungry. I’m getting food,” Dream sighed, heading off to the front, Phil in tow.

George was hungry as well, but he had a mission of great importance to accomplish...

On the other side of the kitchen, partially hidden by sauces, cheeses and onions, Sapnap was assembling a Big Mac. He had come in right on time, cheeks red and hair messy. Absentmindedly, George had wondered if Karl drove him. 

All throughout the rush, George had been itching to ask Sapnap about him and Karl. But the cars rarely stopped coming, and whenever there was a small gap, a minute to breathe, Dream whisked him away to the fridge or to the freezer or to the backroom. Anywhere that Sapnap wasn’t. George didn’t really understand it. Didn’t Dream also want to know?

So now, with Dream out of eyesight, George rounded the stainless steel counters and placed himself right behind Sapnap. Tommy was luckily nowhere to be seen; probably doing dishes.

“Hey, George,” Sapnap said, sliding the now finished Big Mac onto the conveyor belt, sending it to the front.

“Hello,” George grinned widely. “How are you?”

With nothing left to do, Sapnap turned around and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I’m good.”

“And how’s Karl?”

“He’s good.”

“Not amazingly happy and incredibly in- ”

“In love?” Sapnap arched an eyebrow. George nodded. “Yeah. We’re amazingly happy and incredibly in love. But so are you and Dream, aren’t you?”

George frowned lightly. In love. Was he in love with Dream? When he thought about it, there was only one answer that came to mind. But voicing it out loud almost made George gag.

He shrugged, twisting a little. “We don’t talk about it.”

“Really?” Sapnap asked. His eyes darted to Dream’s approaching form before returning to George. “Ask him about it.”

“Ask me about what?” Dream said.

George looked at Dream with a small smile. “Nothing.”

“Alright,” the blond replied, returning the smile. “How’s Karl doing, Sap?”

Sapnap rolled his eyes, letting out a mirthful laugh. “He’s good. Are you really more interested in my relationship than me? I’m hurt, Dream!”

Dream just laughed and fell into an easy conversation with his friend.

Meanwhile, George was having a bit of a crisis. 

Was Dream in love with George? What if he wasn’t? God, what if he was? What if Dream was just aching to say it, to George and to the whole world, but George wasn’t even ready to admit it to himself? Words, especially words that carry emotion, had never been George’s strong points. 

George was well aware that Dream wanted their relationship to be public. Well aware that Dream was ready to be out and proud, holding hands at school, trading kisses in the hallways, parading George around in his letterman like some sort of 21st-century peacocking. But George just wasn't ready - despite how much he wanted the freedom that came with being out. There was nothing George could do but pray that Dream would stick around long enough.

It hadn't been long, but George wasn't sure what he would do if he couldn't wake up next to Dream on weekends. If he couldn't slide his fingers through Dream's hair and kiss him. The very first time Dream had initiated something between them, George had felt the addicting tug of Dream. Now, weeks into it, he was hooked. 

"George?" 

George blinked frantically, eyes searching for Dream.

"George, are you okay? You're crying."

Chapter Text

"George, are you okay? You're crying."

George blinked frantically, wet eyes phasing back into focus and zeroing in on Dream. 

“Wha-?” George said, slightly dazed.

Without a word, Dream grabbed George’s wrist, pulling him along into the break room. The motion sensor-controlled lights flickered on just as Dream shut the door behind them, leaving them alone in the small room. Worried green eyes searched George’s blotchy face, looking for clues.

“What’s up, baby?” he murmured gently, cupping George’s face in his hands.

“I’m okay,” George replied quietly, averting his gaze.

Dream tutted, giving his head the slightest shake. “Talk to me. I’m not gonna judge you, George. If something’s making you cry I wanna help you take care of it.”

“‘S just something Sap said…” George mumbled.

Dream’s gaze hardened. “Sap? Was he rude to you?”

George shook his head quickly, finally meeting Dream’s eyes just to make sure the blond knew he was serious. “Sap wasn’t rude. He just said something that made me think, and then I spiralled.”

“What was it?”

“He… Well, he said that he and Karl were in love.”

Dream frowned - clearly confused. A crease formed in between his brows that George itched to smooth out, but his hands were glued to his sides: fisted to hide his trembling.

“Good for them?” the blond said, voice more a question than a statement.

“Do you-”

George didn’t have to say more before Dream’s face softened in realisation. He pressed a hard kiss to George’s forehead before pulling the shorter man into a tight embrace.

“Of course I do,” he mumbled. “You never have to worry about that.”

George pushed his face into Dream’s shirt. It smelled like oil, meat and sauce, but underneath was a distinct Dream scent that made George’s eyes water again.

“I’m sorry for crying,” he mumbled, muffled by Dream’s chest.

“It’s okay, sweetest.”

George laughed wetly and pulled back just a little to look up at Dream. “Sweetest?”

“Got you to laugh, didn’t it?” Dream grinned.

“You never have to worry either. About that, ” George then said, suddenly serious.

A soft chuckle fell from Dream’s red lips. “I know, George. You don’t have to worry.”

“I do worry sometimes,” George sighed. “I’m not good with words and emotions the way you are. I’m scared you… you’ll end up getting sick of me, or something.”

“Could never get sick of my sweetest Gogy,” Dream said, a mischievous glint in his green eyes.

Half-heartedly, George glared at Dream. “I’ll take it back.”

Dream pressed his lips against George’s forehead in a whisper of a kiss. “You’d be a liar, then.”

“Guess I would be.”

They stood in silence, eyes locked together in a gaze filled with love. George loved Dream, and he felt weirdly at peace with it. But with the sudden emotional distress out of the way, George was starting to feel a pounding in his head. He groaned softly and broke the eye contact to push his face into Dream’s chest once more.

“What’s up?” Dream questioned, carding a hand through soft brown locks.

“Headache,” George replied. “This crying shit makes me light-headed.”

“If you want to go home I’ll take your shift,” the blond suggested.

George whined in response, shaking his head. “Don’t wanna be without you right now.”

Dream chuckled softly. “Go home and get some sleep and I’ll join you the second I get off, okay? I’ll go straight to your place.”

George pulled back, now nodding. “Okay. As long as you shower. You smell like… McDonald’s.”

“Like old oil and wet fries, yeah.”

“Yeah,” George agreed, smiling a little.

-

Dream used his lunch break to drive George home. He dropped him off with a kiss on the lips and a promise of soon. 

The house was empty when George entered, but there was a yellow post-it note on the fridge telling him that his parents had to head into work because of an emergency.

After throwing the note into the trash, George took a painkiller and headed into the shower to rid himself of the smell he had come to associate with work. Dream was right; it did smell like old oil and wet fries. It wasn’t exactly… pleasant. George could even recall a few times where he’d shown up to work in a particularly bad mood and felt nauseous because of the smell.

His brown hair was dried half-heartedly, and then George buried himself in his bed under his blankets. He glanced at the time on his phone and sighed. It was hours before Dream would come to join him. 

Despite his agonising loneliness and longing for his boyfriend, George fell asleep. 

The sound of his door opening and a soft ‘George?’ whispered by Dream didn’t wake him. Nor did the blonds feather-light steps as he tiptoed around the room. The shower turning on didn’t do it either.

George didn’t wake up until Dream slid into bed, hair still damp, chest bare and legs clad in sweatpants.

“Dream?” George mumbled groggily, pushing his palms against his eyes to keep out the light.

“Hey, baby,” Dream replied softly. He turned off the table lamp on George’s nightstand, sending the room into darkness, then wrapped his arms around the brunet and pulled him close.

“Wa’ the shif’ ‘kay?” George asked.

“It was good. Wilbur and Niki told me to tell you to get well soon.”

George smiled a little. “Thanks."

“Is your headache gone?” Dream inquired. His large hand slid up George’s back, situating itself around the back of his neck, fingers playing numbly with the hair that curled there.

George hummed, relaxing into Dream’s side. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

They were quiet for a while. George had woken up more and was toying with the drawstrings of Dream’s sweatpants while he rested his head on the blond's chest. His mind was in the McDonald’s break room, still trying to process the fact that Dream loved him. That anyone did. He was loved.

“Thank you,” George exhaled, pressing a gentle kiss into Dream’s warm skin.

“What for?” Dream frowned.

“For loving me.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“But can I?”

“What do you mean?”

George sat up, and Dream’s hand fell from his neck and landed on his waist again. “I can ride you.”

Dream arched an eyebrow. “Ride me?”

“As a thank you,” George nodded.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m horny, Dream. Just let me ride you. Please?” George whined, already adjusting himself so that he was straddled over Dream’s muscled thighs.

“You’re insatiable, is what you are,” Dream groaned, hands wrapping around thighs like garters.

“You love it,” George smirked. He leaned over and began trailing kisses down Dream’s neck.

Dream exhaled softly. “I do. I love you. Love everything about you, everything you do.”

“Sap,” George whispered against his collarbone. “Can I leave marks?”

“I’m honest. And yes, of course. I’m yours,” Dream said.

“You’re mine.”

“I am.”

“I’m yours.”

“You are.”

They were close, lips almost brushing and breaths mingling. George was leaned over, holding himself up on shaky arms. Black surrounded by green poured into a pure dark as they stared at each other.

“You own me,” George whispered, the words falling right off his tongue past parted lips and into Dream’s mouth. “I was born for you, I think.”

“And he says he’s not good with words,” Dream breathed.

They met in a heady kiss, lips pushing and pulling as Dream sat up, keeping George in his lap. Quickly, George’s t-shirt was removed, and Dream’s hands jumped to paint his newest painting of red and purple on the pale expanses of George’s chest.

“I love you,” Dream panted into the kiss. “Can’t stop fucking saying it.”

“You’re obsessed with me,” George joked, voice breathless and high pitched as Dream pressed down whenever he saw fit, leaving red marks behind.

“I am, baby.”

“Fuck me, Dream. God, I need you to fuck me.”

“Cut me some slack, baby, we’ve only just gotten started,” Dream chuckled as his fingers pressed meanly into George’s hipbone.

The brunet moaned, head falling back to show off his throat. “N-no time for your - fuck - drawn-out ideas of foreplay. I need your dick inside me, three seconds ago! ”

Dream scoffed, but the smile lingered on his lips. “Brat.”

“ Dream! ” George cried. 

“Fine, Jesus.”

Lube was quickly located from underneath George’s pillow where they had left it two days ago and after Dream made quick work of both their pants, fingers were slicked up.

“Please,” George whined as Dream’s fingers circled his rim. “I-I need you so bad. Need you to own me.”

“ You own you,” Dream said just as one of his fingers pushed into George.

The brunet gasped, eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. “ Want you to own me, though,” he said through his teeth.

A fond smile grew on Dream’s lips. With his unoccupied hand, he grabbed  George’s jaw, forcing eye contact. “Owning your heart is enough.”

George blinked owlishly. “It’s yours.”

“Good."

“Quicker, please?” George mumbled.

“Anything for the man who owns my heart,” Dream smiled, using his grip on the brunet's jaw to give him the slightest of shakes. “Beg for it though.”

“ Please, ” George whined. “Please- please I need you so bad. I-I-I came home… And all I could th-think about was you. Your fingers - Dream, Dream, Dream - your fingers inside me-” Dream pushed another finger into him, forcing a lewd moan from George’s spit slick lips. In the corner of dark eyes, fat tears were welling up.

“Just fingers?” Dream teased, twisting and scissoring the fingers inside of George.

“You’re a massive cock,” George sobbed, heavy tears rolling down flushed cheeks.

“I have one, yes. But you seem to be more into these ,” the blond’s sentence was punctuated by the addition of a third finger.

The new stretch shot a shiver up George’s spine like a high-speed bullet train. His back arched, head falling to the side limply. 

“No?” Dream hummed, slowing the pace he had built up. “Want my cock?”

“Wan’ cock,” George said through his tears. 

“Am I starting to lose you, baby? Haven’t even called you ‘pup’ yet.”

“D’eam,” the brunet slurred through a wanton moan.

“I’m putting my dick inside you now. You know why?” Dream asked, knowing very well that George was halfway out of it. He adjusted them easily enough, and soon the red, weeping head of his cock was pressed against George’s puffy rim. 

“Why?” George responded on an exhale.

“Because you’ve been so good for me, pup,” Dream smirked. With his hands on George’s waist and legs propped onto the bed for leverage, Dream thrusted up and into the tight heat of George.

George’s responding cry echoed in the room - bouncing against every surface before making a home in Dream’s head.

Meanwhile, George felt like his body was on fire and his head stuffed full of cotton. Thinking was hard, but moving was harder, so he leaned further into Dream, letting his heat embrace him and fuel his fire.

“So fucking-” Dream groaned, lips right against George’s hair. “So good for me, so fucking beautiful. Christ, George, you’re literally unreal.”

All George did in response was moan; with Dream’s hard thrusts there wasn’t much else he could do.

“Cum,” George moaned suddenly, eyes opening widely.

Dream’s pace faltered, and for a split second, George stopped bouncing up and down in his lap. It was just in time for Dream to see white explode from George’s cock, covering his own thighs but also Dream’s stomach.

“Fuck,” Dream breathed.

“Keep going,” George whined.

“Chill- George. You sure?”

“Own me. Mark me as yours. Please?”

“Am I a dog staking my claim by coming in your ass, now?” Dream said, voice breathless and deep as he picked up his pace again.

“You’re whatever the fuck you want to be as long as you're also mine,” George said.

Dream came seconds later, painting George’s insides - staking his claim.

George let out a sigh of relief, immediately falling into Dream’s chest as the blond man laid down.

“Thank you,” George mumbled.

“You have to stop thanking me for everything,” Dream said quietly as he began rubbing George’s back.

“I want you to know that I’m grateful.”

“I know that anyway.”