Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dream glances around craft services, searching for a place to sit and eat. The first day on a new production is always hard, and he’s feeling particularly stressed this time around. Operation: A Boyfriend for Christmas is set to be the flagship Hallmark Christmas movie for the year, and they have to get it right.

Luckily, this time around he’s not alone—his best friend, Nick, is serving as the assistant director. Having Nick around and running the show takes a lot of worry off of Dream’s shoulders. He’d trust Nick with anything. Unfortunately, Nick is way too busy with first day prep work to stop for lunch with Dream, so he once again finds himself looking into a crowd of strangers to find a seat.

With the table read coming up right after lunch, he’s too in his own head to make small talk with strangers.

He finds an almost-empty table towards the back and takes a seat. There’s one other person there, but he looks so engrossed in what he’s reading that Dream thinks he’ll keep to himself. He unwraps his lunch and starts eating.

He’s three bites in when the guy scoffs loudly before turning the page of his script. It’s then that Dream recognizes him—George Davidson, the male lead. While Dream wasn’t involved in any casting decisions, Nick did share the headshots and backgrounds of the final selection with him as a courtesy. Dream doesn’t know much about George except that he’s British and he’s… well, he’s hot. But not in the usual big white teeth, big white guy, loves Jesus and his momma Hallmark Channel way. Which is funny, this being a Hallmark Channel production and all. He’s hot in a way that Dream would enjoy far too much if they were in a different setting, meeting under different circumstances.

Dream ignores George and keeps eating. A few moments later George scoffs again and laughs. “Oh my God,” he whispers under his breath, clearly amused. Dream can’t help but glance over, and this time George catches him looking.

“Something funny?” Dream asks. George shrugs. He glances Dream’s way and pauses, looking him over before deciding to speak.

“Depends on your definition of funny.”

“Try me,” Dream says with a friendly smile.

George waves the script around. “Just the drivel in this. I know Hallmark Christmas movies aren’t really known for being… high quality productions, let’s say, but this is ridiculous. The dialogue sucks balls. No one talks like this in real life.”

Dream suppresses his instinct to defend the channel and just laughs. He wants to hear a little more what George here has to say. 

“I hear the network has some pretty strict guidelines about dialogue,” he says, giving George a grin. “Do you think you’ll be able to make it through? Is there anything worth saving?”

George gives him a suspicious look, as if he’s not sure if Dream is making fun of him or not. Dream keeps his face pleasantly blank and friendly and, after a moment, George relaxes and shrugs.

“Hard to say. Maybe the director will let me make a few changes. The story’s not bad, but it’s kind of predictable.”

“Isn’t that the point of a Hallmark Christmas movie?” Dream asks. “They’re comfortable and familiar and people feel safe and warm when they watch them.”

“You sound like my mum,” George says with a laugh. “She’s sooooo happy I’m working with Hallmark.”

“But you’re not?” Dream asks.

George shrugs and stands, stretching a little. Dream watches, his eyes lingering just half a beat too long. Like he said… hot. Well, hot and maybe a little annoying.

“Just not where I hoped I’d be, you know? Does anyone move to LA to work on Hallmark productions? Anyway, I think I need to go have a quick chat with the AD before the table read. I’m George, by the way. Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, probably,” Dream says with a smile and a little wave. “I’m Dream.”

“Dream?” George asks, gathering his things and straightening up.

“Just something people call me. I’m crew so I’ll be here most days. I’m sure we’ll run into each other.”

“Okay, see you, Dream,” George says with a small smile before heading off. Dream chuckles to himself and shakes his head before returning to his meal. George may be cute, but… the guy is in for a rude awakening. Dream kind of thinks he deserved it.

~

He doesn’t have to wait long for George to get that rude awakening. Forty minutes later Dream strolls into the table read to find George sitting in his chair, still frowning at the script.

“Any luck on getting your changes made?” he asks, leaning against the table. George looks up and smiles when he sees Dream.

“I think there’s room for improvement but Nick says I have to run any changes past Clay, whoever that is.”

“Head writer, I think,” Dream says. “Good luck with that. I don’t know many writers who like to be told their writing sucks balls.”

George laughs. “Well, I wouldn’t say that to his face. I’ll kiss his ass a little and then when he loves me I’ll give him a few suggested edits, if you will. That’s sure to work. Put a little charm on it.”

“Oh, I bet,” Dream says. He glances over at the doorway where the director has just walked in, followed closely by Nick. Nick looks from Dream to George and raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.

“Alright, people,” Nick says, practically shouting over the noise. “Get your family friendly asses in chairs so we can get this started.”

The director glances over at Nick as he takes his place. “Language, Nicholas! This is the Hallmark Channel. Let’s have a little decorum.” He glances around the room. “Everyone do as Nick says. We’re on a tight schedule today and have a lot to get through.”

Dream claps George on the shoulder and stands up. “Good luck.” 

George takes a deep breath and nods, putting on a game face. “Thanks. Everyone’s got to start somewhere, right?”

“Yeah,” Dream says.

“Clay, can you take your seat so we can get started,” the director asks. Dream nods and heads over to his chair, where the little name tag that reads Clay - Head Writer sits. 

He sees George looking around the room to spot this mysterious head writer he’s going to charm and bamboozle. He sees the confusion in George’s eyes when he takes his place at the writer’s seat. And then, best of all, he sees the absolute horror set in when George realizes the guy he’s been complaining to all along is, in fact, the head writer.

~

Dream hangs back after the table read and waits for the room to clear. George slides up to Sylvee, the actress playing his leading lady, and tries to sneak out with her. Dream’s not making it that easy. George had some big things to say earlier and now Dream wants to hear them.

“Hey George,” he calls from his seat as George and Sylvee approach the door. George freezes and glances over at him. “Hang back, won’t you? I heard you had some thoughts you wanted to run by me.”

Dream has to give George credit—he must be an amazing actor. He doesn’t so much as blink, completely calm and collected as he nods and tells Sylvee he’ll catch up with her later. Nick is heading toward the door with the director but he pauses when he hears the exchange and looks between Dream and George.

“Do you need me to stay?” he offers. Nick has known Dream long enough, and knows him well enough, to know that Dream doesn’t take kindly to suggestions about how he can improve his writing. Enough evenings at the bar listening to Dream ranting about a college professor who didn’t get it, to a person in his workshop who didn’t get it, to a head writer who didn’t get it, to directors and actors who didn’t get it. It’s not that he’s unreasonable—just that he needs people to appreciate his vision before they go trying to change it.

“No, it’s cool,” Dream says, waving him off. “George just had a few suggestions for me.” He gives Nick a small nod, letting him know he’s got it and that Nick doesn’t need to run interference. Nick cracks a grin and gives George a pitying look before he follows the director out.

Once the room is empty, George takes a seat on top of the table nearest Dream. It’s a move, Dream can tell, a power play to make George feel more important than he is. This way, with Dream still in his chair, George is taller. Dream smiles to himself and stores that information away for later. He already noticed he towers over George—knowing that it affects him somehow is just a bonus.

After he’s settled, George takes a deep breath and looks right at Dream. “So, I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”

Dream laughs shortly. “You think?”

“I didn’t mean to, like, offend you,” George says. “If I’d known you wrote it, I wouldn’t have said anything then.”

“Well that makes me feel just great.”

“Why did you tell me your name was Dream?”

“I mean, it kind of is,” Dream says. “Just— it’s a nickname. My close friends call me. And I couldn’t very well use my real name and let you know who I was. That would’ve spoiled the fun.”

“Fun, right,” George says dryly. “So fun.”

Dream has the decency to feel a little bad, even if George had pressed one of his buttons. It’s not like he knew it was one of Dream’s buttons.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry man. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you or anything.” He pauses and tilts his head to the side. “Though something tells me you might need to be embarrassed every now and then.” Dream isn’t sure where exactly that came from, but once he says it, he knows it’s true.

George’s eyes go wide in surprise and he lets out a short, surprised laugh. “What makes you say that?”

“You walk into your first leading role and the first thing you do is demand to see the head writer so you can fix his script. Not a great way to make a first impression, Georgie.”

“Don’t call me that,” George says, rolling his eyes. He pauses and squints at Dream. “How did you know this was my first time?”

Dream just barely stops himself from making the obvious joke and just smiles cryptically. “Secret secrets. Just assume I know everything.”

George rolls his eyes. “Are you always this obnoxious?”

“I just like to match the energy I’m given.”

“Are we done here?” George asks. He scoots forward, like he’s going to get to his feet and leave. “Or are you going to figure out a way to get me fired.”

He sounds so calm and casual when he says it, but there’s something in his eyes. Dream sees it and he recognizes it. Hunger. Not for food, but for success, for a chance, for a break. Dream has looked that way before, and so has Nick. As much as George is acting completely disinterested in this job, he’s hungry. He wants it. He recognizes the opportunity he’s been given.

Dream likes that, and weirdly, despite all reason, he thinks he likes George. At least he likes messing with George.

He shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe. Would you even care? Sounds like you think the script is just so beneath you.”

George sighs. “Do you actually want me to tell you what’s wrong with it or are you just playing a game?”

Dream does his best not to bristle at the insinuation that there’s something wrong with his script. Instead, he just gestures in a the floor is yours way. “Tell me.”

George brings the script forward, holding it tight in his hands. The edges are creased and crumpled, like he’s spent hours going over and over it. It’s better than some actors Dream’s worked with. The ones who never bothered reading the script or trying to understand the characters. The ones that needed to be fed their lines and acted like any ounce of effort on their part was a form of torture.

George is flipping through the script, eyes darting over the pages like he’s trying to pick the best example of how terrible it is. Dream can see he’s written notes in the margins. He cares.

“Stop,” Dream says, voice soft. “Don’t find a specific example. If you think the script’s so terrible, there must be some underlying flaw. Tell me what you think is wrong with the movie as a whole. Let’s start there.”

George stops his search and looks at Dream for a long moment, as if he’s trying to decide if he can really trust Dream, if he means what he’s saying. He chews on his bottom lip as he thinks and Dream has a sudden urge to reach out and stop him. It looks like it hurts, and he doesn’t want George to hurt himself.

“It’s just…” George begins after a long moment of silence, voice so quiet Dream can barely hear it. “It’s not real life, is it? I want to make something that… I don’t know. Has a meaning. Makes a statement. This is just fantasy. People don’t talk like this in the real world. People don’t act like this. Like my character—Sam. He’s had this crush on Maisie for years and doesn’t say a word? But then the second he gets to pretend to be her boyfriend, which, that is so stupid, don’t get me started. But the second she asks him to pretend to be her boyfriend, he’s like yes, finally a chance to win her over. Like, bro, you could have been winning her over for the past six years.”

Dream is about to defend himself when George keeps going, clearly on a roll.

“And, come on. Your grandma’s dying and it’s her last Christmas and her one dying wish is that Maisie finally settles down and gets her happily ever after just like me and grandpa? Vomit. That’s cringe. It’s actually cringe. If I were dying I wouldn’t give a shit who my grandkid was fucking.”

“Ooh,” Dream says. “Be careful or you’ll get a this is the Hallmark Channel lecture from the director. He takes language pretty seriously.”

“I have a point, though, right?” George asks, ignoring Dream’s comment. “Stuff like this doesn’t happen in real life. It’s too… perfect. People don’t act like this. Christmas is about making awkward small talk with family you only see once a year until Uncle Greg has one too many and tells you to get over that faggotry and find a nice girl to settle down with!”

Dream’s mouth drops open in a little ‘o’ at George’s outburst. George sees his expression and sighs.

“Sorry, is faggotry not allowed at the Hallmark Channel either?”

Dream bursts out laughing at this. He knows he shouldn’t. He thinks—he thinks George just shared something important with him. A stranger. But he can’t help it. In between laughs he gasps out a response.

“No, no, I don’t think Mr Hallmark cares for faggotry.”

“The word or the action? Wait… is there a Mr Hallmark?”

“No,” Dream says, wiping tears from the corner of his eye where they’d begun to gather. 

George slumps down on the table, the adrenaline from his rant gone. Dream takes pity on him. There’s something about George, and — Dream doesn’t know, he just wants to make him feel better.

“It’s not meant to be realistic,” he says softly. He scoots his chair closer to where George is sitting and places a hand on his knee, giving it the lightest squeeze. “People don’t come to the Hallmark Channel for the real world. They come to escape it. Their lives are hard and they want to pretend for ninety minutes that life isn’t so hard, that it really is as soft and as easy as it appears on screen.”

“Falling in love isn’t his easy. Do people really buy it?”

“It’s a fantasy. As much a fantasy as any fairytale or dragon book. People want to believe that love really can be this easy… maybe with the help of a little Christmas magic.”

George scoffs at that, but he gives Dream a thoughtful look. “You really believe that, don’t you? You like this stuff.”

“I do,” Dream says honestly. “People watch our movies because they want to be happy. I love that I’m the one who gets to help do that.  And if every now and then I have to deal with a little shit turning up on my doorstep telling me my writing sucks balls, then it’s still worth it.”

“Language,” George says. Dream chuckles and is about to scoot his chair back, to remove his hand from where it’s still resting on George’s knee. Something in George’s eyes stops him, though.

“You don’t want to be here, do you?”

George shakes his head and swallows. “I don’t—” he starts. “I mean. I’m grateful. I’m grateful to have a job. I couldn’t go back to England a failure. And that’s—”

“You’re not a failure,” Dream interrupts, voice serious. “You are not a failure. It’s hard in the beginning. It was for all of us. But you’re here. That means they saw something in you. It’s up to you to make the most of that.”

George lifts his head to look at Dream. “I just thought I would be doing something that mattered.”

“Haven’t you been listening? This matters. It really matters!” Dream laughs at the absurdity of it. He doesn’t understand how George can’t see how important this job is. It’s not about the money, and there’s certainly no fame to be gained. But to create something that people turn to for entertainment when they’re feeling sad or alone or going through hard times. To make the thing that brings them comfort. It’s a privilege.

“I guess I just don’t see it the way you do,” George says with a shrug. He glances down at the script and then at Dream’s hand, which is somehow still on his knee. Dream pulls it back and George hops off the table, getting to his feet.

“Listen, I shouldn’t have talked shit about your script. I was just—I guess in a bad mood. I’d appreciate if we can just… I don’t know. Forget it?”

Dream stands too, nodding. He watches as George’s eyes track him up to his full height. George swallows, face flushing the slightest bit, and Dream does his best not to smirk. Not the right time. Not the right person.

“Yeah, man, we’re good,” he says. “We can start fresh tomorrow.” He turns to head out the door and pauses. “Unless you want… I mean. The crew usually goes out for one big blowout before we start shooting. Actors welcome, too. Do you wanna come?”

George smiles at that, a big, bright grin crossing his face that makes Dream reflexively smile in response. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

~

Hours later, Dream and George are standing together at a small tabletop in a dingy bar, surrounded by the noise of their fellow cast and crew chatting, drinking and laughing. Dream knows he needs to mingle—to catch up with people he hasn’t seen in a while, get to know the other actors, annoy Nick—but he’d been drawn right to George the second he’d walked in and he hasn’t left his side yet. 

“If I could do anything anything, I’d probably write novels,” Dream says, finishing his thought. They’ve been talking for the better part of the hour and had somehow circled around to the question of what they would do if they could have any job in the world.

“Anything anything and you’d still write?” George rolls his eyes. “Predictable.”

“Yeah, what would you do?” Dream asks, leaning into the challenge as he leans across the table to look George in the eyes.

“I’d be a billionaire of questionable origin,” George says with a shrug, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. He meets Dream’s eyes and grins. “And I wouldn’t work at all.”

Dream laughs. “Of course you wouldn’t. So boring.” He feels George’s foot make contact with the side of his shin under the table and reaches his leg out to kick back. With his long legs, he’s got way better reach, but George seems to have the upper hand on flexibility, anticipating Dream’s reaction and dodging out of the way.

“Hey! I’m not boring. I just was not born to labor. Too many other things to do in life.”

“Even if I had all the money in the world, I’d still want to do some kind of work.”

“Would you still work for the Hallmark Channel, though?”

Dream scoffs. “No. I like this job, but it’s still a job. Whatever work I did would be on my own terms. But I’d still do something. Not laze around in a sunspot like a cat. Like you.”

“I wouldn’t laze,” George protests. He pauses. “Well, I’d laze a little. But, like, I’d do stuff too. I’d experience the world. See different places, taste different foods, do it all on my own schedule.”

Dream can picture it. He can see George in exactly that scenario, clear as day. Scurrying all over the world, no one ever anticipating where he’d show up next. Where in the World Is George Davidson? It doesn’t have the same ring as Carmen Sandiego, unfortunately. George Not Found? They’d need to workshop it.

“You could host a food show,” he suggests. “Be your own little Anthony Bourdain. Or write a travel memoir.”

George makes a face. “Yes to the food show. But you’re writing the memoir for me.”

“Happy to,” Dream agrees. “But I’m going to charge out the ass for that.”

 “Are you fuckers talking about work?” Nick asks, walking over to their little table and clapping them both on the back. “We’re going to be working our asses off for the next two months. You should have some fun and live it up a little tonight.”

“We’re having plenty of fun, Nick,” Dream says. “Just getting to know each other.”

Nick laughs and looks at George. “Honestly, I thought Dream here was going to rip you a new one for suggesting he make changes to his script. Don’t know how you got out of that.”

George looks at Dream with a little smirk playing at the corner of his lips, like he knows exactly how he got out of that one. Is Dream really that obvious?

George looks back at Nick. “And I really appreciate the level of care and effort you put into making sure that didn’t happen.”

Nick shrugs. “Not my problem. I’m going to get another drink. You guys do what you want.” 

When he’s gone, George make’s a face at Nick’s back and says, “That guy really puts the ass in ass-istant director.” Dream purses his lips together to keep from laughing. George looks over at Dream and frowns at his expression.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Dream says, laughter leaking out despite his best intentions. “It’s just funny. You’re kind of funny. And, yeah, he is kind of an ass.”

“Kind of? I’ll have you know I’m—wait, have you worked with him before?”

“Not exactly.” Dream is beginning to wonder if he should let George know about his friendship with Nick, just so it doesn’t feel like he’s hiding something from him. Before he gets the chance to decide, the lightbulb finally clicks on for George.

“Hey—he called you Dream. I thought that was, like, your super secret name.”

Well, that’s one issue sorted. Dream grins before putting on a pensive tone. “Don’t tell anyone this. It’s not something I’m proud of. Please don’t judge me too harshly. But—Nick is kind of my best friend.”

George makes another face. He’s so expressive, and Dream is enjoying all the ways George has of showing his emotions.

“Oh, I’m definitely judging you for that.” He pauses and gives Dream a serious look. “Are you going to tell him I called him an ass?”

“Probably!” Dream says brightly. “But only because he deserves it. Don’t worry, I call him one all the time too.”

“Aw, cute,” George says, voice thick with sarcasm. “Is that your super secret special name for him?”

Dream laughs. “No, I call him a different secret name. But I can’t tell you—private.” He picks up his drink and takes a sip, hoping he’s giving off the air of a mysterious and interesting guy. He… he wants George to think he’s interesting. That’s weird.

“I bet you do,” George snarks. “Do you call each other these super secret names when he’s giving it to you from behind?”

Dream chokes on his drink and pounds his chest, eyes watering, trying to clear his airways. George just grins and bounces a little on his feet, clearly delighted with Dream’s reaction.

Dream coughs a few times before finally clearing his throat.

“Too much?” George asks. Dream can tell right away from the devilish look in his eyes that he’s hoping to find more buttons to press.

Dream clears his throat once more before finally speaking. “No, it’s just, uh, Nick’s straight. Very straight. And we’ve been best friends since we were like twelve so it’s a pretty horrifying picture.”

George, clever George, immediately picks up on what Dream didn’t say.

“So, Nick’s not gay, but you are?”

“I’m a writer for the Hallmark Channel. Of course I’m gay.”

“And here I was thinking the Hallmark Channel was the most wholesome of the wholesome.”

“It is for the most part,” Dream says. “But all the guys writing Christmas movies are gay. No matter the channel.”

George takes this new piece of information in stride. “And I bet you all have a cute little group chat.”

“We do, actually.”

George sighs and shakes his head. “Predictable,” he says before taking a sip of his drink.

“Apparently not so predictable,” Dream says, taking George’s words as yet another challenge. Without letting his common sense get in the way, he lowers his head and leans into George’s space. “I don’t really take it from behind, if you get my meaning.”

George laughs, delighted. “Oh Dream, Dream, Dream. Don’t give me that kind of information. You never know what I might do with it.” He glances around the room for a second and then steps out from behind the table. 

“Gonna go chat with Sylvee,” he says by way of explanation. “See if we can drum up some of that fake chemistry for tomorrow.”

Dream nods. “Good luck.”

“Don’t need it,” George says in the same dismissive, confident way that he told Dream his script was bad earlier in the day.

“Oh, uh, one thing,” George adds before he walks away. He slides right next to Dream and picks up his drink, taking a sip. He turns to look up at Dream with a smirk. “I do… take it from behind. When I’m in the mood at least…” He puts Dream’s drink back on the table and turns to walk away, adding, “That shit tastes nasty,” as he goes.

Every nerve in Dream’s body is on fire as he watches George walk away. It’s quite the sight. He takes a sip of his drink right from the spot where George’s lips just were and then grimaces. “This really is bad.” He abandons it and their table in favor of finding Nick and a new drink at the bar.

“Is that guy going to be a problem?” Nick asks when Dream takes a seat next to him on a barstool. Dream orders a new drink and then glances over at Nick.

“Who? George?”

“Yeah,” Nick says. “When he told me he had some suggestions about changing the script I wanted to fire him on the spot. I’ve got your back here, bro.”

Dream chuckles. “Thanks, but I can handle him. He’s not so bad.”

“There’s still time. I can’t do anything once we start shooting, but we have a backup if you want to get rid of him.”

Dream glances down the bar, to where George is standing chatting with Sylvee. His eyes linger for a long moment… long enough for George to realize he’s being watched. He turns and looks over at Dream, raising his glass in salute and offering him a small smile.

“Dream?” Nick asks, pulling his attention back.

Dream turns back to face Nick, but he can just see George out of the corner of his eye.

“No, no man. Don’t worry about it. He’s a good actor and I can handle the rest. I can handle him.”

~

The sound of an alarm that isn’t his wakes Dream the next morning. He groans and paws around, trying to find the source of the offending noise. It feels too early, or maybe he was out too late. He was definitely out too late.

“Sorry,” he hears someone whisper, and then the noise is gone. Dream wants to relax back into sleep—it’s so early—but something doesn’t seem right. He feels the mattress shift beneath him as someone moves on the other side, and that’s when he realizes it. Someone is in his bed with him. Someone—oh no. No.

Dream turns over and very slowly cracks his eyes open, already knowing what he will see. A fully naked man stands next to his bed, pulling on a pair of briefs.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” George says. “I have an early call time.”

Dream doesn’t know what to say or how even to respond to the situation. Blurry scenes from the night before are coming back to him one by one and it’s a lot to process all at once. Instead he just nods slowly and tries to close his eyes and relax, to avoid the minor freak out he wants to have.

He slept with George. He had sex with George. Surely there’s something in the Hallmark Code of Conduct that frowns on this.

“Hey,” George says a few moments later. Dream opens his eyes again. This time George is fully dressed, just slipping his shoes on.

“I have to head out, but this was fun,” he continues, oblivious to the minor panic in Dream’s eyes. “Let’s do it again sometime.” He leans down and presses a soft, mostly chaste kiss to Dream’s lips before turning and leaving.

Dream waits until he hears the sound of the front door closing to move. He rolls over to bury his face in the pillow that smells like George and lets out a loud Fuck. Then, with that out of his system, Dream pulls himself up to sitting and takes a slow, deep breath before assessing the situation.

He had sex with George. Just the thought sends images flashing through his brain—George on his knees, mouth stretched wide around Dream’s cock, George staring up at him with big eyes as Dream fucked into his mouth, his come dripping over George’s big lips and down his face, George’s cock in Dream’s hand, angry red and spurting come all over his chest. The images have Dream’s dick stirring to life despite the minor underlying panic.

He drank too much the night before. He thinks they both did. He vaguely remembers George leaning his full weight against Dream in the last minutes before midnight, suddenly not so certain he could make the drive home. Dream grinning and saying George should just sleep at his place then. The heated way George looked up at him, eyes full of knowing, and the way Dream’s hand curled around George’s waist, guiding him out of the bar without another word.

Dream rubs his face and groans. He’s never actually done this. In all his years in this industry, he’s never gone home with one of the actors. It’s not that he’s never wanted to necessarily. It’s just that it seemed messy, seemed likely to end in trouble. George definitely seems like the kind of experience that could end in trouble. But, God, it would be a fun way to go out.

He has a career, though, and George is trying to build one. He’s not sure exactly what the Hallmark Channel would have to say about this, but he doesn’t think it would be good. He thinks it would be something along the lines of you’re fired.

For now, there’s nothing to do about it but move on. He’ll find a time today to talk to George and make sure he understands it was a one-time thing. He’ll tell Nick, as painfully embarrassing as that sounds. He can still do his job, but Nick will have his back if George makes trouble somehow, and Nick will help him keep it a secret.

Images of George’s smile when he laughs, the brightness in his eyes when he’s happy, and the soft way he looked at Dream in the early hours of the morning all pass through Dream’s mind. He wishes he could have George for real. He wishes they would have met in a different situation, under different circumstances. He wishes… a lot.

~

After a shower, some breakfast, and time to clear his head, Dream heads into the studio feeling better about the situation. Then he walks onto the set, sees George standing and laughing with Sylvee, and his stomach drops out. God, he’s gorgeous. George is gorgeous, and now when Dream looks at him he knows what every inch of George’s body looks like. It’s like a punch to the gut and all he wants to do is drag George to his trailer and lick every inch of him.

Where did that thought even come from? He shakes his head and turns towards craft services, hoping some cold water might cool him down. He doesn’t get more than a few feet before George spots him and calls him over. Dream considers walking away, but there’s something about George’s voice that just draws him in, and he can’t help but turn and walk over to George and Sylvee.

“Hey,” he says, trying to seem natural and managing to sound incredibly awkward instead. “What’s up?”

George gives him a strange look, like he thinks Dream is acting weird, and then shrugs. “Sylvee and I were just going over the lines for our scene this morning and she had a question.”

Dream manages to peel his eyes away from George and turn to look at Sylvee. She starts reading a few lines to him and asking the tone he had in mind and what exactly he’s trying to convey. “I really want to make sure I understand this character,” she explains.

Dream tries to focus on her, but his eyes keep drifting back to George, who’s standing there looking amused. When Dream glances at him for the fifth time, George kicks his ankle and looks pointedly at Sylvee. Dream refocuses on Sylvee, actually dialing in on helping her. But, God, George smells so good.

“How late did you stay out last night, Clay?” Sylvee asks when Dream’s attention wanders off again. He smiles sheepishly and shrugs. He can feel George’s eyes on him.

“Probably later than I should have,” he admits. He doesn’t follow it up with the truth, that it was the things that happened after he went home that kept him up too late.

Nick walks onto the set and starts shouting instructions, breaking up their little group. Then the day truly begins.

Filming goes well. George and Sylvee do a great job of capturing what Dream was trying to convey in the scene. This particular scene takes place midway through the movie, when George and Sylvee’s characters—Sam and Maisie—are at Maisie’s parents’ house in the days leading up to Christmas. The two of them are crammed into her childhood bedroom. Maisie’s parents think they’re dating and they’re doing their best to maintain the facade. Since they’re actually just friends, Sam has made a small bed of blankets and pillows on the floor of and he’s lying in it, talking to Maisie. 

Sam has been in love with Maisie for years, but never had the courage to act on it. In her childhood bedroom, where he’s pretending to be her boyfriend, he feels like he might actually have the courage. Instead, Maisie starts talking about how funny it is that her parents put him in her bedroom so willingly when she spent her teenage years sneaking guys in. When she says the line, “A lot of guys have broke my heart in this room,” Sam loses his courage and decides he’s not going to put anything on her in what’s an already stressful situation.

Dream is thrilled with how well they both capture the gravity of the moment. The tension and longing coming off of George, the smooth way that Sylvee plays Maisie’s obliviousness. If this first scene is a representation of what’s to come, this movie is going to be a hit. That’s good for his career, obviously, but also Nick and George and Sylvee’s as well. For the first time it hits him how many people want this movie to succeed, and it strengthens his resolve to speak with George and set things between them to rights. As much fun as he’d had the night before, and—he can’t even think about how much fun it was or he’ll get hard. It’s not worth it to jeopardize the magic of a film set.

As soon as they get a break in filming, Dream pulls George aside.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Talk like writer talk, or talk like…” George trails off with an exaggerated waggle of his eyebrows and Dream has to hold his breath for a second to keep from laughing. Fuck him for being so cute.

“Talk like talk in private.” He glances around the crowded stage to see if anyone’s watching them together. George follows his gaze around the room and nods.

“My trailer. Meet me there in five.”

Dream nods and George heads out. After an appropriate amount of time has passed, Dream wanders in the same direction. He passes Nick on the way out and nearly gets sidetracked, but he’s on a mission. Honestly, he’s afraid if he doesn’t say what’s on his mind right now, he’s going to mess it up later.

He wants to let George down gently. He seems like a nice guy. Dream doesn’t want to hurt him.

Exactly five minutes later he’s sneaking up to George’s trailer and rapping gently on the door, slipping inside once George cracks it open.

“Was that supposed to be stealthy?” he asks, an amused look on his face.

“Hey, I thought so,” Dream says. “It’s not exactly easy to sneak around when you’re the tallest guy in the room.”

“You are kind of freakishly tall,” George says, eyes trailing up Dream’s body. “Like the world’s least frightening giant.”

Dream’s about to protest, about to say something stupid because all he ever seems to do around George is say stupid things, when a memory from the previous night hits him. George pushing Dream onto the bed, still fully clothed, climbing up the length of his body, whispering God, you’re huge in Dream’s ear in a tone that made it clear that he considered it to be a very, very good thing.

“You like that I’m big,” Dream says without thinking, unable to control the impulse or to keep pride from leaking into his tone.

George smirks. “Just now figuring that one out, huh?” he asks. Then, without any warning beyond a look of sheer want in his eyes, George is on him, hands on Dream’s shoulders, pulling him down to kiss him. He starts walking backwards, further into the trailer, bringing Dream with him.

“You really couldn’t keep your eyes to yourself today, could you?” George says breathlessly when he breaks their kiss to catch his breath. “You’re obsessed with me. So unprofessional.” 

He grins before pressing his lips to Dream’s, tongue licking into Dream’s mouth. He pauses after a few moments when he realizes Dream isn’t kissing back. Dream really wishes he was kissing George back, but he came here for a reason and he needs to focus. Well, focus isn’t the issue. He needs to focus on why he’s here, not the things he wants to do to George. The problem is that the latter is much, much more fun to think about.

“What’s wrong?” George asks, brow furrowing.

Dream sighs. During the kissing, his hands had migrated down to grip firmly around George’s waist. He forces himself to let go and takes a step back.

“George, we… We can’t be doing this.”

George tilts his head to the side, confused. “What? I have at least an hour until they need me again.”

Dream can’t help but chuckle at that. It may be an unfortunate situation, but at least George can make him laugh.

“No,” Dream says. He takes one of George’s hands in his and leads him further into the room, to the tiny sofa that just barely fits the narrow space. Once they’re settled, he continues. “I mean… we’re working together. We can’t do this. Last night was fun, but it can’t be more than that. I’m pretty sure we’d get fired if the network found out.”

George grins, leaning closer to Dream. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Dream has to bite back a smile at that. Without meaning to, one of his hands travels down and rests on George’s thigh. God, what he wants to do to those thighs.

“No,” Dream says, both to himself and George. Maybe coming in here wasn’t the best idea—being this close to George is distracting him, giving him thoughts, reminding him of the previous night.

“Why not?” George asks. He glances down at the hand on his upper thigh. “You seemed to enjoy yourself well enough last night.”

Dream laughs at that. “I did,” he admits, voice low. “I really, really did. And in another situation maybe it could work out between us, but not in this situation.”

George is the one to laugh at this. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Dream. I just thought we could have a little fun while we’re in such close contact.” To punctuate the words, George slides even closer, putting them into very close contact. Dream’s mouth suddenly feels dry and he clears his throat, unsure what to say.

“Don’t you want to have a little fun?” George asks, peering up at Dream through his lashes, a devious smirk playing on his lips. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. We keep it quiet. No strings; it ends when we’re done filming. Or if one of us wants it to end before then, that’s okay too. No hurt feelings.”

Dream can feel his resolve crumbling the longer he stares down at George. Those dark eyes, the evil smirk, the soft warmth of his thigh underneath Dream’s hand—it’s too tempting. George is a creature made of pure temptation, and Dream is a very weak man.

“Okay,” Dream says at last. “We keep it secret.”

“Casual.”

“Casual,” Dream agrees. “Low-key.”

George seems to take their agreement as implicit permission to resume what he had started in the doorway. He shifts closer, throwing a leg over Dream’s lap and then turning to straddle him, faces inches apart. Dream’s hands fly to George’s waist to steady him and then they’re kissing. This time Dream accepts the invitation and slips his tongue past George’s lips, taking a moment to revel in the taste of George, kissing as hard and as greedily as George does. His hands travel from George’s waist down to his ass, cupping and squeezing the ample flesh there.

“Is this okay?” he breathes into George’s mouth when they break from their kiss for a moment. George nods and dips his head to Dream’s shoulder, pushing the fabric aside and kissing there.

“No marks,” Dream whispers. George nods again.

“I know,” he says. “Low-key.” He punctuates the statement by grinding down hard onto Dream’s lap, his perfect ass pressing just right against Dream’s dick. Dream groans.

“What do you want?” he asks, his fingers drifting up and under George’s shirt, just aching for the permission he needs to remove it.

“I want your big fucking dick inside me,” George says with a groan, nipping at the edge of Dream’s jaw. “But we don’t have time.”

Dream nearly combusts at the image, and he knows he wants that too, so badly. It has to wait though. But, God, he wants that too.

“Let me eat you out,” he whispers, pressing his face into George’s chest. George moans in response.

“Fuck yes.”

“Take your clothes off,” Dream says, maneuvering George off his lap and to his feet.

“Such a romantic, Dream,” George says with a giggle. “I just love it when he says take your clothes off like that.”

Dream stands and pulls George’s shirt off in one quick motion before dipping his head down to kiss just below his ear on the soft flesh of his neck. “Sorry, should I be nicer? Please, George, if it isn’t too much trouble could you remove your clothing so I can stick my fucking tongue in your ass?”

George throws his head back and cackles at that. “You’re so dumb,” he says, but the fondness in his tone is clear.

“Yeah, well, apparently you’re just helpless,” Dream says, pushing George’s jeans down, slipping his fingers into the waistband of his briefs. “I have to do everything around here.”

George doesn’t have a response, instead grabbing onto Dream’s shoulders so he can steady himself when he steps out of his pants. Now George is completely naked and Dream is fully clothed, and something about the dynamic lights Dream on fire. He leans back so he can run his eyes up and down George’s body, taking time to appreciate the things that weren’t apparent to him in the dark last night. His hands drift to George’s hips and then around to the back, fingers ghosting across his ass, stroking closer to his hole.

George groans and falls forward into Dream’s chest, bringing his hands to fist into Dream’s t-shirt as Dream continues caressing his ass, teasing and working George up.

“Please,” George breathes into Dream’s chest. When he’s so sweet like that, Dream can’t say no.

“Get on the couch.”

George immediately does what Dream says, and Dream stores that little piece of information away. As much fun as the previous night had been, it’s a whole different experience to have someone who you’re trying to learn, knowing you can put each new piece of information to work in its own time.

Dream lowers to his knees and brings his face level with George’s ass. He spreads the cheeks wide and takes in the sight before him, mouth watering as his throat goes dry. Even his hole is cute. Dream leans forward and gives it a little kiss and is rewarded by a soft whimper from George.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” Dream whispers, and he’s not sure if he’s talking to George or to his hole. Either way, it’s true.

The noise George makes when Dream’s tongue finally touches his hole is so pornographic that Dream thinks he’s going to come in his pants. He also thinks people passing by might be able to hear it.

“Shhh, Georgie,” he whispers, the hot air of his breath tickling the fluttering hole just under his mouth. “I want to hear all those pretty noises later, but not here. You have to be quiet.”

George nods and grabs a throw pillow, burying his face into it before Dream begins his onslaught.

It turns out he doesn’t need to hear George’s noises, not really. George’s body is so beautifully responsive to every touch, every breath, every lick, that he might as well be screaming. Every quiver of George’s thighs, every time he tenses his muscles to hold back a moan, every time he pushes his ass back into Dream’s face. It’s all so deliciously sinful that Dream wants to stay here on his knees in this trailer eating George out forever.

They can’t, though. There’s a clock running, and neither one of them has unlimited stamina. George cracks first, whining into the pillow and whispering, “Please, please, please” again and again. Dream’s tongue is buried deep in him by then, and he has a finger in as well, three knuckles deep and pressing against George’s prostate. He reaches between George’s thighs to cup his balls and then George is coming, shooting ropes of come into the fabric of the sofa. Fuck, should’ve thought about that.

When George’s orgasm has past, Dream stands up and unbuttons his jeans. His dick is hard enough to cut glass, his boxers soaked with precome. It’s not going to take long. He pulls his dick out and gives it a few solid tugs before painting George’s ass and lower back with his own come. He may not be able to mark him up with his mouth, but he can do this.

George collapses against the pillow when it’s all done, when Dream’s finished tucking himself back in his jeans and has returned from the tiny bathroom with a washcloth to clean George and hopefully save the sofa.

“You got your glizzy all over me,” George laughs. Somehow that statement makes Dream burn with pride. He hates that he has to wipe it away so quickly.

“You look good like this,” he says, gently passing the washcloth over George’s skin. “Besides, it’s not nearly as bad as what you did to the couch.”

George looks down and groans. “Will that come out?”

“Yeah,” Dream confirms. He finishes wiping George up and goes to work on the sofa. It comes right out. He glances over at George then and finds that he’s watching Dream with a strange look on his face.

“What?” Dream asks. George just shakes his head and reaches out with one hand, pulling Dream forward to kiss him. When they break apart, Dream brings his hand up to the side of George’s face, cupping his cheek.

“I want to stay here with you,” he says. “But I—”

“I’m kicking you out,” George interrupts. “Get out.”

Dream laughs. “Fine, then, see you around, I guess.”

“See me tonight?” George asks. He’s still holding onto Dream’s hand, like he won’t let go until he gets a confirmation.

“See you tonight?” Dream confirms. He leans forward and presses a kiss to George’s forehead before standing and walking out. It’s not like he won’t see George in thirty minutes, but it’s different. He can already tell it will be different.

He makes his way back into the studio and down the hall to the office Nick has commandeered for himself. They have plans to run through the scenes for that afternoon’s shoot to take any final notes before set-up. 

“There you are! Where the fuck you been?” Nick asks when Dream enters the room.

Dream tries to keep his smile under wraps when he responds, “Just went for a quick snack.”

~

After that day, Dream and George seem to have an agreement and spend most evenings together. During the day it’s all professional, minus a few knowing looks and a handie or two during stolen moments in George’s trailer. But at night, it’s a different story.

It starts as pure sex—thrilling, amazing, wildly good sex. But then one night Dream has a bad headache when George comes over, and rather than leave, George sits with Dream’s head in his lap, coiling his fingers through Dream’s curls and scratching his scalp just right. It’s tender and domestic, and Dream sucks George off the next morning in thanks.

Then one night they order takeout, neither having had time to eat beforehand, and spend the evening on the couch together, arguing over what show to watch before ultimately curling up and watching Dream’s Christmas movie from last year. Dream’s so comfortable and happy with George in his arms that he almost doesn’t mind George’s snarky additions to the dialogue. They fall asleep before the movie ends and when Dream wakes up uncomfortable a few hours later, he simply carries George to his bed and goes back to sleep.

There’s a voice in his head that says casual hookups don’t stay the night, and they don’t eat dinner together, and they certainly don’t spend an entire evening together without having sex, but that voice is easy enough to ignore. They’re having a good time, making the whole filming process much more pleasant, and they have an agreed upon expiration date. What could be better?

They’re over a month into their little arrangement when the other shoe drops. Dream is eating lunch in crafty with Nick. George is across the room, sitting with Sylvee, who he’s become close to during the filming process. They’ve been doing their best to keep their distance when on set, their best to maintain a professional relationship, and Dream’s proud of how well it’s working.

Or, at least, he’s proud until Nick opens his big, fat mouth.

“So,” Nick asks midway through their lunch when Dream is gazing in George’s direction for at least the tenth time. “You want to tell me what the hell’s going on between you and George?”

Dream chokes on his water and starts coughing harshly. He can practically feel George turn to look at him from across the room, knows the look of concern he’ll have on his face. When did he get to know George well enough to picture his face without seeing it?

When the coughing fit passes, he takes a long, deep breath, hoping that Nick will just drop it. No such luck.

“Well?” he prompts when Dream says nothing.

“What do you mean?” Dream asks carefully. “We’re… friends I guess. He’s kind of a little shit, but he’s funny.”

“Come on bro, I’m not an idiot,” Nick protests. He balls up a napkin and throws it across the table at Dream. “Half the time you’re staring at him like he’s the fucking moon or some shit and the other half you look like you want to eat him.”

Dream purses his lips together to stop from laughing, or to keep himself from answering with a robust and proud I do! George wouldn’t like it. George has been very clear he wants to keep the thing between them under wraps to protect his career, and Dream is on the same page. He thought they were doing a good job of keeping things quiet too. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dream finally says once he’s schooled his face into a blank expression.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” Nick says. “Sylvee sees it too. Just admit it.” Dream cocks his head at that, wondering when on earth Nick and Sylvee started talking about him, or talking in general. He has bigger issues to worry about right now, though—namely, keeping his secret relationship a secret.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must be imagining it.”

“My ass,” Nick says. He crosses his arms and glares at Dream, trying to intimidate him into spilling. It might have worked, too—might have—but Nick has been Dream’s closest friend for more than half his life and Dream is long past being intimidated by any face he makes. Dream leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, mirroring Nick’s position and glare almost perfectly. After a moment, Nick sighs and throws his hands up into the air.

“Fine,” he hisses. “Have it your way. But you need to be more careful. If the network finds out… it’s against the code of conduct and you know it. Whatever you think you’re doing to keep it secret, you’re fucking failing. You are so, so damn obvious. I’ve never seen two idiots look at each other the way you do.”

Dream doesn’t see how that could be true. It can’t be true. He and George barely talk when they’re on set, and every single word they exchange in front of others is purely professional.

Not that Dream doesn’t think unprofessional things when George is around. How could he not? He knows exactly what George looks like underneath all that casual winter wear, exactly what sounds he make when you touch him right—

“Holy fuck, you’re down bad,” Nick says, interrupting Dream’s train of thought with a laugh. Dream looks at him stunned for a moment, not realizing he’d gotten lost in thought fantasizing about George while sitting across the table from Nick.

“Shut up,” he hisses. “It’s not what you think.” It is. It absolutely is what Nick thinks, but Dream made a promise to keep things secret and he’s not breaking that promise.

Nick stares at him a long moment, waiting for him to say more, but then shakes his head sadly.

“You’re really not going to tell me anything? Whatever happened to bros before hoes?”

Dream feels bad for a moment, but he made a promise. Honestly, unloading to Nick sounds kind of nice, but he knows Nick can’t and won’t keep his mouth shut. There’s too much riding on this for George and his career, and Dream doesn’t want to risk his cushy Hallmark job anyway. So, for now he just shakes his head. He won’t admit anything, but decides he won’t straight out deny it either.

When it’s all over, he can tell Nick and they can laugh about it. For now, he wants to keep things with George steady.

~

“Stop frowning so much,” George says later that night, head craning back from where it’s resting against Dream’s shoulder to look at him. “My mum always said if I frowned like that my face would get stuck that way.”

Dream hadn’t even realized he was frowning, but he’d gotten lost in his thoughts and it must be showing on his face.

“Not frowning,” he protests, curling his arm tighter around George. “This is just how my face is.”

George snorts. “God, I hope not. I wouldn’t let you anywhere near my dick if you looked like that all the time.”

Dream rolls his eyes and looks down at George. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

George sighs and punches Dream in the side before shifting away to rest against the arm of the couch instead of Dream. He looks him up and down appraisingly.

“Something’s wrong.”

“It’s fine.”

George kicks out at him, but Dream anticipates the move and grabs his foot before he can connect. When George tries to pull his foot free, Dream holds tight, not letting go. George kicks and wriggles more and more, trying to free himself, before collapsing limp against the couch.

“Let me go!” he protests.

“Only if you keep your gross feet to yourself,” Dream says, holding George’s foot tighter.

“My feet aren’t gross,” George says. “They’re perfect. People would pay good money to look at them and here you are just holding tight like they’re your personal property. Americans. Not everything you touch belongs to you.”

Dream laughs. Literally nothing George just said makes any sense, but he kind of loves that. He kind of loves how he can never predict what’s going to come out of George’s mouth next. He loves the way George’s brain works.

“Fine,” he says, dropping George’s foot back down to his lap. “Have your precious foot back.”

“Good,” George says, pointedly not bothering to take his foot back, leaving it to rest in Dream’s lap. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Dream sighs. He’d hoped he distracted George enough to forget, but George can be obnoxiously single-minded when something catches his attention.

George wiggles his toes against Dream’s palm until Dream looks over at him.

“Tell me?” he asks again, but this time his tone is soft and inviting, laced with just the tiniest hint of concern.

“It’s nothing major,” Dream says, shrugging. “It’s just that Nick told me today that we were being too obvious.”

George furrows his brow at that, frowning. “What does that mean?”

“It means that he suspects something is going on between you and me and—I swear I didn’t tell him anything. But he says that it’s obvious and he’s not the only one who suspects.”

“How is it obvious?” George asks. “We barely talk to each other on set.”

“I don’t know!” Dream says, frustrated. “I thought we were hiding it really well.”

George sits in silence for a while. Then he begins shifting around, nervously. “Do we need to stop?” he finally asks, voice sounding so tiny and helpless to Dream’s ears.

Dream practically jumps out of his skin at that suggestion. “What? George, no. Why would you— Do you want to stop?”

“No,” George says. He lets out a decisive-sounding breath and then crawls across the couch until he’s sitting in Dream’s lap. “I want to stay… right here. With you. But maybe if we’re being so obvious… I thought maybe you’d want to end it.”

The words alone are enough to cause Dream’s fingers to dig into the meat of George’s shoulder, like he’s holding on to keep him from slipping away. He’s not done with George. He hasn’t had nearly enough of George. He still gets a few more weeks of George before filming wraps and their little situationship comes to an end.

“No,” he says softly after a moment. “It’s just Nick. He’s being stupid. He was probably just fucking with me. We can just be more careful… no more sneaking off to your trailer.”

“Well that’s no fun,” George says, slumping back into Dream’s arms. “Tell Nick he’s not allowed to fuck with you. That’s my job.”

Something about that catches Dream by surprise and he laughs, bringing his arms around George to squeeze him tighter, pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of his head.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “We’ll just be more careful.”

~

They try so hard after that to keep their distance when on set, but it’s not always easy. Dream has to run lines with George and Sylvee, particularly when he makes last minute changes to the script. That’s understood. But maybe disappearing off to George’s trailer so many times a day was what Nick meant when he said they were being obvious. 

It’s stupid, because most of the time they’re not even doing anything in there. There’s rarely a long enough break to do anything serious, and George stays at Dream’s most evening’s anyway. The most they’ve really done in the trailer since the first day is make out. Most of the time they’re just talking.

Still, that seems like an easy way to reduce the chance of being caught, so Dream stops going to George’s trailer on breaks. It’s miserable. He eats with Nick, goes over the script with the director, or holes himself up in one of the empty offices to work on the script for his next movie. He’s behind on getting something together for spring and there hasn’t been much time for writing at night these days.

He’s in one of these rooms typing furiously at his computer when George throws the door open and barges in.

“This is stupid!” he says. He doesn’t give Dream a moment to respond, just crosses the room and bends down to give him a deep, passionate kiss.

When he lifts back up, Dream giggles a little and smiles up at him. “What was that for?”

George shakes his head. “No reason. Just wanted to.”

“Nice,” Dream says.

“What are you working on?” George asks, peering over Dream’s shoulder.

“Spec script for the spring movie. Burnt out city girl abandons corporate life to live on the farm she inherited from her grandfather. While she struggles to make farming work for her, she helps bring life to the small town community and maybe even falls for the nearby chicken farmer along the way.”

“Sounds stupid,” George says, but not meanly. He’s just teasing, and Dream loves the glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Sounds like Hallmark,” Dream responds. George laughs at that. He leans over Dream’s shoulder to read what he’s written, but Dream throws his hands up to block the screen.

“No!” he says emphatically. “No one gets to read until I’m done.”

“Even me?” George asks, dropping down to sit next to Dream and giving him the biggest, saddest, fakest puppy eyes ever.

“Even you,” Dream confirms. “Not even Mr Hallmark himself sees a word of this until it’s finished. It’s my process.”

“It’s my process,” George parrots back to him. “God, you’re no fun.”

Dream glares at him. “You’re not supposed to be in here, remember? So if you’re going to stay, you’ll sit quietly and behave.”

“Or what,” George asks, always ready to fight. “You gonna punish me or something?”

Dream flushes at that, but doesn’t take the bait. “Or something,” he murmurs in response before turning his attention back to the computer screen.

George flops back in his chair, sighing his displeasure loud enough for anyone in the area to hear. Dream shoots him a quick glare but otherwise doesn’t break away from his script. George shifts in his chair and fidgets for a while, but doesn’t even make it sixty seconds before the lack of attention starts to wear on him. Dream thinks he’ll leave once he gets bored enough, and then maybe he’ll be pouty later, but Dream can just make it up to him. He can think of a lot of fun ways to make it up to him.

What Dream doesn’t consider is that half of what makes George so fun is the sheer chaos that lives in his brain, ready to activate at a moment’s notice. He’s almost forgotten George is even there when suddenly George is sliding out of his chair and crawling under the desk where Dream’s stationed.

Dream doesn’t even get a second to wonder what he’s up to before George is between his thighs, hands gripping them and spreading them wider before traveling up to undo his pants and slip his dick out.

“Wha—what the fuck, George!” is all Dream manages to gasp out before George’s mouth is on him. He’s not hard, not even a little, but it’s impossible not to respond when George brings him into the warm, wet heat of his mouth. He holds Dream’s soft dick in his mouth without moving, just the occasional hum for stimulation, as it starts to fill up in response.

“George,” Dream hisses again, sliding a hand under the table to push George’s head back. George just shakes him off, doubling down on his efforts while Dream’s dick doubles in size. Dream practically melts into the chair with how good it feels, barely managing to keep enough blood flowing to his brain to let him think.

“George,” he repeats, weaker this time. “You’re—we’re going to—we can’t.”

George pops off, but keeps Dream’s dick in his hand, stroking it the rest of the way to hardness.

“It’s fine. Just keep working on your little script up there and I’ll keep working down here. No one will know.”

Dream can think of about a hundred arguments to that, but he doesn’t want to argue. He just wants George’s mouth on him.

“Okay,” he breathes out. “Okay.”

“Keep writing or I stop,” George says, and it’s the last thing out of his mouth before he takes Dream back in. Dream nearly falls out of his chair. George slaps his thigh in warning and Dream shakes his head, trying to clear it out, and shifts to sit upright again and face his computer again.

He doesn’t get more than a half a sentence on the page before the sensations happening below the desk distract him. The second his hands fall silent on the keyboard, George stops sucking. He sits quietly, holding Dream’s dick in his mouth, waiting.

Frustrated, Dream tries to turn his focus back to the computer screen, typing a few more words. George resumes sucking, taking Dream deeper into his mouth, licking him all wet and sloppy. Dream groans but doesn’t stop typing. He considers just writing nonsense words for now and fixing it later, because he absolutely cannot focus on the story.

He’s about to beg George to let him stop writing when the door opens and Nick sticks his head in.

“Hey, Dream,” he asks, peering into the room but not entering. Thankfully. “You busy?”

“Kind of,” Dream answers, barely managing to get the words out without whimpering. George seems to have taken the intrusion as a challenge, and is doubling down on his efforts. Dream would end up with the guy with a voyeurism kink. “I’m writing.” Dream grits his teeth against the need to moan and instead offers Nick a tight smile. “Can it wait?”

“Yeah, sure man. Director just wants you to come do pages for tomorrow with him once you have a minute.”

“Sure, I’ll catch up with him in a bit,” Dream says. He needs Nick out of this room now. George has been quiet this entire time, but it hasn’t kept him from torturing Dream, running his tongue up and down his shaft, swallowing his dick down as far as he can without messing with his throat, making soft little humming noises that send shocks of pleasure up and down Dream’s entire body. It’s absolute torture and Dream loves it. Or, at least, he’d love it if he wasn’t looking at Nick’s big stupid face in the doorway.

“Cool,” Nick says. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He pulls the door shut on his way out and Dream counts to five in his head before letting out a soft moan.

“Oh my fucking God, I hate you, I hate you,” he says, gazing underneath the desk to where George is settled between his legs, mouth stuffed full with Dream’s dick.

George makes quick work of him after that, and then Dream is pulling him out from under the table and into his lap, jerking him off quickly and efficiently while whispering his displeasure and promising retribution, all of which just gets George coming sooner.

“I hate you,” Dream whispers one last time as he grabs the box of tissues off the desk to wipe away the remnants of George’s come.

George just smiles at him lazily, leaning back against the desk, his legs wrapped around Dream’s waist. “No you don’t.” He’s so confident and full of himself that Dream wants to knock him down a peg or two, but instead he finds himself kissing George hard, licking into his mouth to taste the remnants of his own come.

“No, I don’t,” he says when they finally part, breathless. “Now get out of here before someone comes looking for you.”

George slips off Dream’s lap and starts to head towards the door.

“Go clean up,” Dream says before George can leave the room. George looks back at him, curious. “You look like you’ve been fucked.”

“You would know,” George says with a little grin before disappearing out the door. Dream looks back at his computer, but—fuck it. There is no way he’s getting anymore writing done today. He cleans himself up and heads to talk to the director before they resume shooting for the afternoon.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice is whispering that Dream is so damn lucky to have found someone like George, someone who makes him laugh and and challenges him and matches his freak so well. Dream ignores that voice.

~

With the number of filming days left dwindling, they fly to Vancouver to shoot a few of the key outdoor scenes. Dream and George don’t sit together on the airplane, and they don’t share a cab to the hotel, but when Dream arrives with Nick he finds George at the front desk, checking in.

George gives them both a casual nod but doesn’t say anything. He takes his room key from the man at the desk and thanks him. “Room 2248?” George asks in a voice that’s just slightly louder than it should be. He doesn’t look Dream’s way, but the message is clear. 

After Dream has checked in—to a room that’s thankfully on a different floor from Nick—he begs off dinner claiming he has a lot of work to do and then heads up to his room. Only his room is on floor 27, and Dream gets off at floor 22.

George just smiles at him when he answers the door to find Dream on the other side. He sees Dream’s suitcase rolling behind him and laughs.

“What, you think I’m going to just let you stay in my room?”

Dream shrugs as he enters the room, suitcase in tow.

“Sounded like that’s what you were offering downstairs,” he says, tossing his jacket over the desk chair and leaving his suitcase in the corner before star fishing on the king sized bed.

“Is that right? I don’t remember offering anything,” George says, raising an eyebrow. He crosses the room and crawls onto the bed, laying directly on top of Dream. Dream wraps his arms around George and presses him into his body.

“You were offering something,” Dream says. “I just took a guess at what.” He slides his hands down George’s back and slips them into his back pockets, squeezing at the flesh beneath. George makes a noise low in his throat that’s half groan, half chuckle.

“Not even in the country an hour and already trying to get in my pants, Dream? That’s got to be a record.” Despite his words, George tilts his hips back the tiniest amount, pushing his ass further into Dream’s hands.

Dream doesn’t take the offer, instead slipping his hands back out and pushing George up and off him.

“You’re right,” he says, sitting up and turning to look at George, who has landed on his back on the bed next to him in all the movement. “Let me take you out.”

“What?”

Dream shakes his head and smiles. “You’ve never been to Vancouver, right? That’s what you said the other day. We don’t know anyone here but the other cast, and we’ll go somewhere far so we can avoid them. Let me take you out and show you the town.”

George smiles at Dream’s enthusiasm but then furrows his brow and frowns. “Dream… that’s not. You know. Is that a good idea?”

Dream thinks he knows what George is thinking and it settles into his stomach like a rock. Too much like a date. Too much like a relationship. Too much like something they’re not. Still, he won’t be deterred.

“Are you my friend, George?”

George snorts. “That’s a stupid question. Of course I am. Why else would I put up with all the insane shit you say?”

“I don’t know. I remember you saying something about my big dick.”

George pushes Dream away at that. “Ugh, you’re awful. You’re so gross. You’re terrible. I hate you. Go away.”

Dream drops down next to George on the bed and rubs his beard against the sensitive spot on George’s neck, causing him to giggle and flail, trying to escape.

“Okay, okay, okay, I’ll go with you! Just get off me.”

Dream pulls back, face red and chest aching from laughing so much.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? We’re just going to go hand out like friends. Even if someone spots us, they won’t know anything. No big deal.”

“You still have to fuck me after.”

Dream laughs at that and then he sticks a hand out for George to shake. “You drive a hard bargain, but deal.”

“Deal.”

~

Dream’s been to Vancouver at least once a year every year since he started serving as head writer on Hallmark projects. It’s the channel’s go-to location for filming outdoor scenes. He’s amassed a number of favorite locations in that time, and it doesn’t take long for him to decide where to take George. It’s a long haul from their hotel near Burnaby, but that’s for the best—less likely to run into anyone they know. Dream actually goes to his own room to take a quick shower and change and then meets George in the lobby a half hour later.

It’s not until they’re in the car, traveling far from the hotel, that George asks. “Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise,” Dream responds cryptically. George glares at him for a moment before leaning forward in his seat and grabbing the driver’s attention.

“Where is he taking me? Do you know? Am I going to be murdered?”

“It’s a surprise,” the driver responds, and Dream is so glad he slipped him the extra tip before they got in the car.

“Sit back, George,” Dream says softly, putting a hand on George’s shoulder and guiding him back to relax into the seat. “No murders, I promise.” George looks up at Dream then and gives him a single small nod, like he’s decided to trust him. 

Dream drops his hand down to the seat next to George and then, before he can overthink it, grabs George’s hand and twines their fingers together. George raises his eyebrows but ultimately gives Dream a soft smile and doesn’t pull his hand away.

The car ride is long and Dream’s worried they won’t make it before it’s dark out, but they finally pull up to Stanley Park well before the sun dips below the horizon. Once the car’s gone and they’re standing on the sidewalk, George gives him a quizzical look.

“A park? You know, we do have parks in England.”

Dream laughs at that. “Not this park,” he promises. “Come on.”

He reaches out to grab George’s hand again and then pauses. In the back of a car where no one can see is one thing. Out in public in broad daylight is something entirely different. He doesn’t think there’s any chance they’ll run into someone they know here, but it’s still a public declaration that he and George are a unit and… that’s not true, is it?

Dream’s smile falters a little as he drops his hand back to his side and starts to walk in the direction of the Seawall. George, clearly confused by Dream’s behavior, takes a moment to realize they’re moving and to catch up.

“Hey,” he says softly once he’s walking at Dream’s side. Dream glances over at him and George gives him a smile. He doesn’t say anything else, but he slips his hand into Dream’s and squeezes. The weight of the sadness that had descended on Dream lifts as he laces his fingers together with George’s and squeezes back. 

He knows it doesn’t mean anything—it doesn’t mean they’re more than what they agreed on. But it’s nice, and tonight he kind of wants to pretend. He wants to pretend that George is his for the long haul, and not just for another two weeks.

“So what’s so special about this park?” George asks as they walk, keeping the conversation happy and light the way only he can.

“The Seawall path,” Dream says, tugging George’s hand a little to point in the direction they’re going. “The views of the city are amazing and the sunset over the water is the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see.”

“You’re taking me to watch the sunset? How romantic, Dream.” The teasing is thick in his voice, but his eyes look happy, dancing with mirth when he glances over at Dream. Dream will happily take a little teasing if it means George looks at him like that.

They’ve been walking for about fifteen minutes along the Seawall path, Dream pointing out landmarks in the distance, when George suddenly lets go of Dream’s hand and takes off in another direction without a word. Dream stands for a moment, confused, before following after.

“George?”

“Shh,” George admonishes, dropping low to the ground and pointing a few feet away. Dream follows the line of George’s finger and finds a squirrel trying to demolish what looks to be a peanut butter sandwich the size of his entire body.

“Look at him go,” George says, voice soft with awe. “He’s tearing that shit up.”

Dream laughs softly, dropping down to George’s level so they can both watch the squirrel without causing it alarm.

“Must really love peanut butter,” he says, mouth close to George’s ear, words meant only for him.

George giggles and suddenly grabs Dream’s hand again, holding it close to his chest.

“Do you think if he eats the whole thing he’ll explode?”

Dream almost falls over, the mixture of George’s hushed awe with such an insane question catching him off guard. George is always surprising him.

“Should we intervene? He might have gotten off with more than he can handle.”

“No,” George says. “We’re like documentary filmmakers. We can’t interfere with the wildlife. We have to let nature take its course.”

“Oh, of course, I’m so sorry,” Dream says, rolling his eyes. George elbows him gently in the side but doesn’t respond, fascinated by the squirrel and his oversized dinner.

Dream isn’t nearly as interested in watching the squirrel, but he is interested in watching George. He tries not to be obvious, just looking at him out of the corner of his eye. It only works for a little while, and within a few minutes he’s full on staring at George. Something about the way George’s attention is so singularly focused on one stupid fucking squirrel is so endearing, Dream can’t help but lean over and quickly peck his cheek.

George grins and looks over at him. “What was that for?”

“Just felt like it.” Dream shrugs. He looks around the park and notices the change in light. “Can I show you something before it gets dark?”

George nods and stands up, pulling Dream with him.

“I don’t want him to explode,” he says seriously, as if Dream might have doubted that or been convinced otherwise. “And I don’t want to see if something bad happens to him.”

Dream tilts his head to the side for a moment, confused, but then George tugs his hand and adds, “Let’s go.”

Dream leads George the rest of the way along the Seawall path to the special spot he has in mind. As they way, he continues pointing out landmarks in the distance, watching as the twinkling lights of the city at night begin to appear. As the sun gets closer to setting, he stops and finds a comfortable spot for them to sit together and watch. 

The sun setting over the water paints the sky in beautiful reds and oranges, pink dusting around the edge, and something about it makes his heart ache. Maybe it’s being here with George, sharing this with him that does it. Dream doesn’t know, and he’s starting to realize that as much as he writes about romance and falling in love, he has no real clue how it happens in real life.

It’s not supposed to be happening here, but he thinks the feeling inside him is coming from more than just the colors of the sky.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” he asks George in a low tone. 

George shifts in his spot but doesn’t say anything for a long time. When he does finally speak, he sounds reluctant.

“If I tell you something, is it going to ruin the moment for you?”

Dream isn’t sure what to say to that, especially not knowing what George is going to say, but he shakes his head anyway. “Nothing could ruin this moment for me.”

George cringes at that and says, “Gross. You have, like, negative rizz after that.” 

Okay, maybe a few things could ruin this moment for Dream.

He laughs softly and bumps his shoulder against George’s. “Go ahead, tell me. Do you have to shit or something?”

That causes a laugh to burst out of George and whatever he was holding back seems to shake loose.

“No, you idiot,” he says. “I just thought maybe I should tell you I’m color blind.”

Dream goes still and blinks, processing what George has just said. He blinks. He blinks again. Then he bursts out laughing.

“Colorblind?” he asks through his laughter. He gestures at the sky. “So you can’t see any of this, can you?”

“No,” George confirms, shaking his head and matching Dream’s laughter.

“That’s so dumb,” Dream says. “I can’t believe you let me sit here for like fifteen minutes watching the sunset with you. What do you even see?”

“Mostly brown. And some beige!”

Dream covers his face with his hand and laughs. So much for the beautiful scenery that was absolutely going to wow George. “Ugh, what a fail.”

“Cringe fail,” George confirms. “Who goes to watch the sunset with their fuck buddy?”

George’s words hit Dream like a ton of bricks, but luckily George is too busy staring off into the beautiful brown-beige sky to see the look that crosses Dream’s face. 

It’s not that he didn’t know what they were, but Dream had been letting himself pretend. For just a moment. Maybe for just a night. He’s been pretending that there’s something more going on between them than there actually is, and the reminder hurts. He knows it’s right, the way they’re handling this. Keeping things casual was the right choice. He loves his job, and George’s career is just getting started. It’s not worth the risk that Hallmark would blacklist them both if their… relationship, whatever, got out.

It’s for the best that things will be ending soon. Dream’s clearly in over his head.

“Whoa, it got dark,” George says suddenly, snapping Dream out of his temporary sulk. He glances around and realizes that they’ve settled in a part of the Seawall with no lights.

“I can use the flashlight on my phone,” he tells George. “Did you want to go? We can get dinner?”

“Not yet,” George says. There’s a look in his eyes that Dream can’t quite read, and he’s about to ask what George is up to when George inches closer to him and presses their lips together.

Dream freezes for half a beat before realizing it’s too dark where they are for anyone to spot them. Besides, George is warm against his side and his breath his hot on Dream’s lips, and whatever Dream was just thinking is gone from his mind in a flash.

He turns his body to wrap his arms around George, pulling him in close. He breaks their kiss for a moment to look into George’s dark eyes from only inches away, getting lost in those depths. Then, he tilts his head and leans in to bring their lips together again, kissing George properly, the way he deserves to be kissed. George’s lips part and Dream takes the invitation, their tongues meeting as a thrill runs down his spine. He thinks he could kiss George forever and never get tired of it. He tightens his grip on George, pulling him as close as he can get while they’re still sitting side by side.

“Dream,” George whispers a little breathlessly when they part for a moment. His eyes are flicking from point to point on Dream’s face, drinking him in.

“Yeah?” Dream responds, but he doesn’t give George a chance to answer. He’s leaning back in, chasing George’s mouth, pulling George’s lower lip between his teeth to lick and nibble and suck. It may be seconds, it may be minutes, but all Dream knows is that it’s far too soon when George finally pushes him away.

“Stop,” he gasps. “Unless you want to fuck me right here and now.”

The words light a fire in Dream, but he’s not fool enough to follow it. He may want to completely devour George right now, but he’d like to avoid an arrest and possible deportation for public indecency in the process.

“Yeah,” Dream agrees, nodding and reluctantly pulling back. He takes in George’s flushed face and swollen lips and says, “You’re beautiful,” before he can think better of it.

George snickers and leans in to press one more quick kiss to Dream’s lips before standing up. Dream adjusts himself in his jeans before getting to his feet as well.

“Dinner?”

George nods. “You’re paying. You’ve got that big time head writer money.”

Dream laughs at that and turns on the flashlight on his phone, leading George down the path and back toward the main road. 

“Oh boy, do I have some bad news for you about how much writers get paid.”

“And here I was thinking I’d trapped a man with money for once.”

Dream chuckles and wraps an arm around George’s shoulders to pull him close, pressing a soft kiss on the top of his head. “I think I can manage dinner, don’t worry.”

It’s dark by the time they’re in the car back to the hotel. Strips of light from the street lamps they’re passing illuminate George in flashes as they drive, painting the canvas of his face in a perfect chiaroscuro. Dream does his best not to stare as they drive, but George can tell anyway.

“I had a good time,” he whispers, reaching across the middle seat to squeeze Dream’s hand. Somehow, it’s like he’s squeezing Dream’s heart too, and Dream realizes he’s been stupid. Too carelessly stupid. He’s not playing pretend. He’s falling in love.

They’ll finish filming here in Vancouver, and then go home to shoot the final few scenes. And then it will all be over—the movie, whatever he has going with George, all of it. Except now Dream knows he doesn’t want to go back to a life without George. He’s starting to wonder if it’s worth the risk of trying for something real.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

They return to the hotel, to George’s room, and Dream takes George to bed. It’s like every time before, but it’s also completely different. Because now Dream is making love to George, when George just wants to be fucked. That’s what George signed up for, not whatever complicated shit Dream is feeling now.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It’s not even a question anymore. It’s not even about falling. Dream is in love with George. As far as he knows, though, George doesn’t love him back. Not like that.

~

It’s the night before the final day of filming, and Dream is inside of George. He’s moving slowly, taking his time, letting the heat build but not rushing it to the end. If what they agreed at the beginning still stands, this may well be his last night with George. Dream isn’t sure and he’s been too afraid to ask.

The thing is, he doesn’t want it to be the last. George is annoying. He’s annoying and willful and stubborn and self-centered. He’s also funny and kind and smart and generous and empathetic and a hundred other qualities that Dream could list if he wasn’t focusing on the drag of George’s walls on his dick, the soft, whiny moans coming out of his mouth, the smell of his sweat-slicked skin. That’s another quality he likes about George—he’s a damn good fuck. They work together well. Way too well to give it up.

“Stop thinking,” George groans, slapping the side of Dream’s head with the hand that was just clawing into his shoulder. It surprises Dream enough that it knocks him out of his head and leaves him laughing. 

“So gentle,” he teases George, slowing down his movements even more to refocus. He realizes he’s been lost in his thoughts for a while, long enough to miss George red-faced and panting beneath him, beautiful flush covering his chest. Why waste any time thinking when he could be looking at this?

“Sorry,” he whispers, and he drops his head down to kiss George’s forehead, his nose, his lips. He can taste the salt of the sweat on George’s skin and even that makes him a little melancholy. He shakes it off, though—he doesn’t want to ruin this night for himself. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he tells George. He shifts back so his weight is on his knees, and then uses his freed hands to grip tight around George’s waist, pulling him onto his dick. George moves his legs to Dream’s shoulder and hisses at the change in position, the new angle pushing Dream in deeper, filling George up more.

“I could fuck you like this all day,” Dream says, resuming his thrusts, holding onto George’s waist hard enough to leave bruises. “It’s like your body was just made to take me. Do you want that? You want me to fuck you forever?”

“Yeah—ah!” George gasps. “Yeah, just like that.”

Dream knows George doesn’t mean the same thing that Dream means, but it’s good enough. He can make George feel good tonight and worry about tomorrow tomorrow. He moves one hand to George’s neglected dick and takes it in hand, using the precome that’s been leaking out to give him some slide before beginning to jerk George off in time to his thrusts.

“Dream,” George moans and squeezes tight around Dream, rocking his hips as best he can to meet Dream’s thrusts.

“Is it good, Georgie?” Dream asks. “You gonna come on my dick like this?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” George babbles, a little out of his mind with his approaching orgasm. Dream thrusts in hard a few more times and then George is spilling all over Dream’s hand and his own stomach, come rolling all the to his chest due to his position.

“So good,” Dream says as he jerks George through the last of it, final splatters of come dripping down his fingers. He pauses his motions and just stares down at George for a minute, too captivated by the sight below him to focus on taking his own pleasure.

George smiles lazily up at Dream as he comes down from his own high.

“Take a picture for your spank bank, why don’t you?” he says with a grin.

Dream barks out a short laugh, leaning forward to kiss George before realizing the position they’re in. He gently pushes George’s legs off his shoulders and settles in between them, dropping down to kiss him.

After a moment George shifts his hips uncomfortably from side to side and then goes still.

“Dream?” he asks, pulling his lips away from Dreams. “You’re not—you didn’t?” Dream looks at George dopily and sees his brow furrowed in concern, and then he realizes the ache between his legs isn’t gone.

“Oh, oh sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t—I mean. I just got distracted.” George winces when Dream moves his hips, so he shifts back to slowly pull out of him, dick still hard and sensitive.

George laughs. “You got… distracted? Who gets so distracted during sex that they forget to come? I didn’t know that was even, like, physiologically possible.”

Dream shrinks back a bit, embarrassed, but George stops laughing and grabs his arm to keep him moving away.

“No, no,” he says. “I didn’t mean.” He bites his lips and stares up at Dream for a moment before saying, “Let me suck you off.”

Dream isn’t going to say no to that. He removes the condom he was using and lays back on the bed while George climbs over him to lie with his cheek resting on Dream’s upper thigh. He watches Dream’s expression with careful eyes as he takes his dick in hand and strokes it a few times. Dream locks eyes with George as he does and for a moment he thinks he’s going to come just from that sight.

Luckily he manages to hold off and after a few more tugs on his dick, George shifts and takes Dream’s cock deep into his mouth. Oh, yeah, that. Dream mentally adds George’s giant mouth and enthusiastic cock-sucking skills to the lists of qualities he really appreciates, along with how gentle he is with small animals.

The list is getting way too long.

Also his dick is getting sucked and he really needs to focus in on that.

“You’re so good at this, baby,” he moans. George doesn’t respond, his mouth currently full, but he hums in agreement or approval. Dream’s not going to last long, which is fine. They’ve been going for a while now, and he’s realizing he just wants to hold George more than anything. Coming first would be great, though, so he does.

A few minutes later, after his body has calmed and he’s managed to retrieve a washcloth and clean them both up, Dream gets what he wants. George curls into his arms, resting his chin on Dream’s chest. Dream rubs his hand in circles on George’s lower back and hips, knowing he can get sore when they get in positions like that.

“You were weird tonight,” George mentions after a while.

“Sorry,” Dream says, not for the first time.

“Do you want. I mean—” George pauses and takes a breath. “Do you need to talk about it?”

“No,” Dream says, shaking his head from side to side. “Just want to be here with you.” He looks down at George and gives him a soft, hopefully reassuring smile.

George is quiet again for a while and Dream thinks everything is fine, but then he turns his dark eyes back up at Dream.

“You called me baby.”

Dream swallows. He hadn’t meant to—it was one of those things that come out in the heat of the moment. But it felt right and he didn’t want to diminish it by lying about it.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Is that—I mean, I know. Is that okay?”

George shrugs and lays his head back on Dream’s chest. “Didn’t bother me. Just something new.”

“Good. Good.”

Dream doesn’t think he wants to talk anymore tonight, and luckily George is on the same wavelength. They lie together in silence for a long time, their in sync breathing the only sound in the room. Eventually, though, George moves. He yawns deeply and then lifts his head back up to shake it like a dog.

“I should go before I fall asleep,” he says. “You’re too comfortable.”

“You should stay.”

“Can’t.” George is moving further away, leaving Dream’s side cold as he shifts to sit up on the bed and put his legs on the floor. “Don’t have any extra clothes here.”

“You can borrow something of mine,” Dream offers. He shifts closer to where George is sitting on the edge of the bed and runs his fingers up and down his back. “Come on.”

George laughs. “Yeah, that’d look great, wouldn’t it? Come in on the last day of filming wearing your clothes, which are like two sizes too big for me. No one will suspect anything.”

“And if they did?” Dream holds his breath, waiting for George’s answer on this. In his heart he knows that the answer is the same as it was over a month ago, when this all began. They both knew the risks and agreed to keep things quiet. Maybe Dream doesn’t care so much anymore, but George wants to focus on his career.

Besides, George isn’t looking for anything serious right now.

“Don’t be an idiot,” George says, but his tone is still light, as if he thinks Dream is joking. He turns around and runs his fingers through Dream’s sex hair for a moment, giving him a soft smile. Dream manages to smile back, and then he captures George’s hand in his and kisses the fingers.

He doesn’t want to fight tonight, not when it might be their last night. He wants to have good memories when this is all over. He squeezes George’s hand before letting go.

“Text me when you get home?”

George laughs. “Yeah, fine, mom.”

“I’ve seen how hot your mom is. That’s a compliment.”

“That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting,” George says as he stands to dress. But he’s laughing and smiling back at Dream, and Dream just stares at him with a dopey grin, trying to memorize how George looks in this moment.

A few minutes later, George is gone. Dream doesn’t bother getting out of bed or putting on clothes. He just covers his face with the blanket and lays still, smelling the scent of George, the scent of him and George together.

It’s going to be a long night.

~

Dream doesn’t sleep much that night, but he does come to a decision. He can’t let things with George end without at least being honest about how he feels. How does he even feel? He hasn’t really thought about that too deeply, but he knows he wants George in his life. He wants lazy sunny mornings and hot, steamy nights. He wants to go to bed with the taste of George on his tongue and wake to the sight of grumpy early morning George.

He wants it all.

As soon as he gets to the set he starts looking for George. It’s early, far earlier than Dream needs to be here, but he couldn’t wait. Realistically he knows he should wait until the end of the day, but he can’t. He’s all impulse, running on adrenaline, and he can’t shake the feeling that he’s going to miss his shot.

He’s not surprised to find George and Sylvee already on set together, running through lines next to the giant Christmas tree set up in the middle of the room. They’re filming the big climax today, when Sam declares his love for Maisie while they’re caroling outside of her grandmother’s nursing home. The scene is peak Hallmark, complete with a gentle fall of snow trickling down on them as they have their first real kiss.

Dream rushes over to interrupt. He knows he doesn’t have much time—the rest of the crew will be there soon to set up for filming. Sylvee brightens as he approaches.

“Hey, Dream! Do you have new lines for us?”

Dream slows in his approach, trying to look casual, trying to hide the absolute terror and panic he’s feeling, even as he knows he’s making the right decision.

“Not today,” he replies with a grin, running his fingers through his curls. He glances at George quickly, before turning back to Sylvee.

“Hey, Sylv, can you give us a minute?”

Sylvee looks confused for a moment, but then a look of understanding passes over her face as she looks between Dream and George.

“Sure,” she says with a grin. “No problem. I’ll just… have them touch-up my make up.”

After she’s disappeared out the far door, Dream turns to George.

“Does she know?” he asks.

George grimaces. “It’s kind of… well. You see... she figured it out herself and then threatened to beat me up if I didn’t admit it.” The last bit comes out all in a rush, as if George is ashamed to admit it, and Dream laughs.

“Scared of a girl?”

“Hey!” George protests. “You’ve got sisters. You know what it’s like.”

Dream grimaces and nods. “Yeah, I really do.”

He clears his throat then and shakes away their current conversation to move to the matter at hand.

“What’s up?” George asks at the exact moment that Dream says, “I need to say something.”

They both laugh and George makes a little go on gesture. Dream swallows and looks at his feet before meeting George’s gaze. He can be brave. He’s going to be brave for George.

“I don’t want this to end.”

“Movies have to end, Dream. Even The Neverending Story has an ending.”

“False advertising,” Dream mumbles in response, surprising himself. He shakes his head and schools his expression into something more serious.

“I think you know what I mean, George. I’m not talking about the movie.”

“What are you talking about then?” George whispers, his eyes drifting down to avoid Dream’s gaze. For a moment, Dream thinks George is trying to let him down easy, to stop him from saying something that will cause discomfort.

But then he notices George’s hands, balled into tight little fists and shaking. Dream can’t stop himself from reaching out and taking George’s hands in his. He keeps his eyes trained on George’s hands as he speaks again.

“I’m talking about you and me, George. Whatever it is we have going on. I know we agreed it was just for now… that it would end when we were done filming. But I don’t want that. I don’t know that I’ve ever really wanted that, and maybe it isn’t fair that I agreed to it. I just… I think what we have is too good for that. I think if we let it go… Well, it would be stupid, and we’d regret it. I’d regret it.”

He squeezes George’s hands in his again, letting him know he’s finished speaking. He stands there, waiting, hoping, while George formulates a response. Dream keeps his eyes trained down, not wanting to see if there’s pity or anger on George’s face. After a long, long silence, George laughs, but softly, happily.

“Dream,” he says, and nothing else, but Dream can feel a new energy radiating from him.

Dream takes the chance and lifts his head to look at George’s face, and he’s struck right through the heart by what he sees there.

George is smiling.

George is glowing.

His eyes are shining and he looks so otherworldly beautiful, so happy.

“Yeah?” Dream asks, already knowing. He feels tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, but he is not going to cry today.

“Yeah,” George agrees, nodding.

Dream grins and laughs and whispers, “Let’s go!” just barely stopping himself from punching into the air.

“You’re an idiot,” George says, and then he’s the one that makes the next move. He frees his hands from Dream’s grip and wraps them around his neck, bringing Dream in for a sweet, perfect kiss.

Dream’s eyes are closed while he’s kissing George, so it takes him a moment to notice the Christmas tree next to them lighting up. It’s the feeling of soft artificial snow falling on them, dusting his hair and brushing against his cheek, that finally captures his attention enough to break away from George’s lips. 

“What??” he asks, looking around at the tiny winter wonderland surrounding them. George blinks his eyes open and when he sees the lights and the snow, he laughs.

“Look,” he says.

Dream turns and looks across the room to the tech booth where is Sylvee jumping up and down and giving them aggressive thumbs up, a wide smile on her face. He and George burst out laughing at the same time.

The laughter doesn’t last long, as apparently Sylvee wasn’t the only the one to see their little show.

“Is this how you’re running your set?” an angry-sounding man says. “This is not in line with Hallmark Channel values.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, I had no idea!” The director sounds panicked, desperate. Dream turns to the sound of the voices and sees the director, Nick, and an old white man in a suit standing at the entrance to the room. Mr Hallmark? None of them look happy.

“Is there any other hanky panky happening on this set that I need to know about?” the suit asks. “When we gave you our flagship production, we expected you to have more control. But to walk into a Hallmark production and see… and see… this!”

A part of Dream is horrified, convinced his career is over. A part of him wants to yell at the man, tell him off for acting like his relationship with George is something terrible. George is holding his hand, though, and the steady pressure keeps him calm. And, really, the majority of him just wants to laugh, because it’s all so ridiculous. Why does it matter if he and George are together? How does that affect the Hallmark Channel?

He turns and looks at George, and when their eyes meet, they can’t help it—they both start laughing.

“Well I never!” the suit says, staring over at them. Nick leaves the director’s side and rushes across the room, grabbing Dream and George each by their shoulders and hustling them off the stage.

“You fucking idiots,” he whispers under his breath. He turns to look at Sylvee in the booth and gives her a stern look too, shaking his head.

Across the room, the suit shouts, “You’ll never work for the Hallmark Channel again!” before turning and storming out the door, the director close on his heels.

Dream bursts into a new round of laughter, but Nick hits him upside the head.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, bro? Your career is over. Didn’t you hear him?”

It’s George—George, of all people. George, who wants to build a successful career. George, who wants to make something of himself. It’s George who finally responds.

“I hear Netflix makes great Christmas movies.”

Dream could kiss him again right there, but for Nick’s sake he holds off.

~

In the end, the total ban from the Hallmark Channel never comes. They both receive very sternly worded emails, which George mocks endlessly, and a list of rules the channel will require them to follow in the future.

It’s not that the Hallmark Channel hates gay people. The entire Hallmark Christmas movie industrial complex is built on the backs of them. They just don’t want to see it in their studio. Nick works it out so that both Dream and George are welcome back in the future, but they’re not allowed to work on the same movie.

“Pretty rich of him to act all high and mighty about it,” George says from where he’s cuddled into Dream’s side as Dream reads Nick’s string of annoyed texts out loud to them both. “He and Sylvee have been together almost as long as we have.”

Dream coughs out a laugh in surprise. “What?”

“Yeah,” George says, digging his chin into George’s shoulder. “She told me after she found out we were together. She said it was like mutually assured destruction.”

“You didn’t tell me?”

“I made a promise! I don’t back out of a promise.”

“Some boyfriend you are,” Dream scoffs. He sends Nick a quick congrats on bagging Sylvee, dickhead and then turns his phone off, tossing it on the bed.

“I wasn’t your boyfriend then,” George explains. “But it’s okay now I guess.”

“Oh, you guess,” Dream says wryly. He peers down at George and sees the shit-eating grin on his face.

“What other secrets do I get now?” he asks, slowly rolling over and pressing George into the mattress.

“I wouldn’t want to work with you again anyway,” George says from where he’s cuddled into Dream’s side as Dream reads Nick’s string of annoyed texts aloud to them both. “You’re bossy.”

“Hmm,” George says, sounding thoughtful. He wriggles underneath Dream’s body as Dream shifts his full weight on top of him. “We’ll have to see what secrets you earn.”

“I have to earn them? Some boyfriend you are.”

George spreads his legs so Dream can settle between them.

“I’m a pretty good boyfriend, actually,” he says. “Probably the goat of being a boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah?” Dream asks, grinning down at him fondly. “Why do you say that.”

George wraps his legs around Dream and uses them as leverage to rock his hips up against Dream’s. 

“Just a feeling I have,” he says, rocking his hips again to grind against Dream’s dick. It’s not hard, but it’s getting there the longer George keeps up the motion.

“You’re a little menace,” Dream says, dropping his lips down to kiss George.

“Yeah, but you like it.” George returns the kiss and then lifts his legs to wrap around Dream’s waist. “What does that say about you?”

Dream stares into George’s teasing eyes and knows exactly how he’s going to win this conversation—because apparently this is now a conversation that needs to be won. He has something he wants to say. Something he’s wanted to say for a while.

“I think it says I’m in love with you,” he whispers, eyes still locked on George. “Because I am.”

George stares back at Dream, eyes wide, and swallows before eventually nodding.

“Yeah,” he agrees casually. “Yeah, that makes sense. That seems right. It seems… it seems like it might be true for me too.”

Dream grins at that and lowers his head to press a kiss to George’s neck.

“That’s pretty corny, George,” he whispers. He pauses as a thought crosses his mind. “Pretty unrealistic. You know people don’t talk like that in real life.”

George laughs, the rumble of his chest shaking his whole body beneath Dream. Dream’s about to shift to kiss him properly, to start something that will need to be finished—and finished well—when George speaks again.

“Maybe you should write a movie about it, then.”