Chapter Text
George always thought he was different from the average person. He was better than all the cheesy high school tropes you see in the movies. No going to parties or teen romance, nothing of that sort. He was a good student, turning all his homework in on time, never speaking out of turn. He was in the band, only to fill out his college applications of course. Clarinet wasn’t exactly his passion, but it was fun enough to pass the time. He had a decent part time job working at the local cinema.
It’s not like it was a particularly hard job or anything, no it was actually quite the opposite. There’s nothing very difficult about selling candies and sodas and sweeping up popcorn discarded haphazardly by careless patrons No, the root of all George’s problems (although not much of a problem at all if you think about it.) were caused by none other than the pretty boy filling the napkins behind the counter. He was tall, blonde, and charismatic, you know the type. He’s on the football team, he’s popular, and he’s an honor roll student. Of course, he just had to work with George at the shitty movie theater on the edge of their small town.
It's 4;30 pm on a Wednesday and he’s walking out of the backroom after clocking in. He makes his way to his usual spot behind the counter when it happens. Here comes his manager with said pretty boy in toe. “George! This is D, he’s new, show him the ropes, okay?" she tells him cheerfully. “Sure,” George responds before she promptly walks away to do some kind of managerial task George isn't sure of. “So,” George says hesitantly before continuing. “I guess I’m supposed to show you the ropes. Do you know how to use a broom and dustpan?” He asks Dream. He looks exactly how George remembers from school, but somehow something seems off about him. He looks almost shy, a sharp contrast from the charming boy from his English class. “Yeah, I’m a little bit of a sweeping legend if you ask me” Dream says that classic confidence returning for a bit. “Hi, I’m Dream. George, right?” says with a slight downwards glance to the shiny gold nameplate pinned to his shirt. “Yeah, that's me” George says before turning to lead the blonde behind the snack counter.
“Uh so this is where we keep all the candy. Soda machine is over there, and the popcorn machine is right here.” George explains to the other boy while gesturing to the various items and pieces of equipment spread about behind the counter. “I’ll show you how to use the popcorn machine later, for now we can focus on just cleaning up the floors and stuff and using the register. I promise it isn’t really too difficult once you get the hang of it.” George assures him. “Sounds good George.” They make it through the rest of the night relatively smoothly, Dream only having to ask a few questions and spilling only a small amount of popcorn all over the floor.
Completely to the older boy’s surprise, Dream is very easy to talk to. Maybe George even enjoys talking to him. The night passes quickly between the two of them laughing and joking, and helping customers buy the too salty, slightly stale popcorn.
It’s just past 11:30, when Dream walks up to George cleaning the snack counter for the night. “I just finished cleaning the last theater, is there anything else for me to do Georgie?” he asks the shorter boy a bit of a singsong in his tired cadence. Now that he’s spent this much time around the blonde, he realizes just how much taller the boy is than himself, he’s at least a full head taller than George. And that isn’t to say that George is short, he really isn’t, having a decent height of 5’10”. “No, I think that’s good. You know,” George starts “you aren’t doing too terrible for your first shift.” he says, a bit less apprehensive than before. “Thanks, I’m glad. To be honest I was a little nervous about working here.” Dream says once again uncharacteristically shy, while his hand slips onto the back of his neck to scratch at it nervously. “Well, I mean it Dream. You’re pleasant to work with.” George insists to him, if there was a slight blush on the younger boy’s face, he pretends he doesn’t see it.
They finish up the closing tasks swiftly and say goodbye to Joey before heading out. It’s a bit chilly outside and there’s a slight drizzle but nothing that George can’t handle. He says goodbye to Dream and goes to walk home when dream speaks up, just a touch of concern lacing his voice. “George? Are you going to walk home?” “Yeah, I don’t really live that far from here and it’s really not too bad out.” he responds reassuringly, but Dream cuts him off. “Nah man, it’s raining. I can’t let you walk home. Come on, my cars’ over there.” Dream gestures to the older red mustang in the parking lot. George agrees, thankful for the ride home and walks over to the car with the other boy. “You aren’t gonna kidnap me or anything are you?” he quips playfully, earning a light chuckle from the blonde. “Of course not! Then who would teach me how to properly butter shitty popcorn?”
George slips into the passenger seat of the car, laughter light on his tired mind. He buckles up and they start to drive, George giving directions over soft music playing on the radio. The ride is comfortable and filled with jokes and witty banter. They arrive at George’s house not too long after. The rain is coming down a little harder than before, Windows a little foggy from the laughter. “Well,” George starts, “this is me.” they lock gazes for a second. “Yeah.” Dream responds, softly. The tension between them is palpable, both of them going quiet for just a moment silently wishing for a bit more time.
George turns to Dream, unfastening his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride home, I really appreciated it.” he says gazing softly at the other. “Don’t worry about it dude” Dream says. “Oh wait, here’s my number.” Dream interjects, pulling out his phone. George accepts it and pulls out his phone to enter it into his contacts. He shoots a quick message to confirm his identity then gets out of the car, waving goodbye as Dream rolls down the window to add “And George, we should hang out sometime.” The older boy agrees and waves a final goodbye before walking inside his home.
He gets ready for bed quickly in his regularly rehearsed fashion. He thinks maybe working at the shitty cinema won’t be so bad after all. There’s a quiet ding from across the room where his bed sits, phone lighting up with a message that almost certainly has some variation of a goodnight. If he stays up a bit later than usual, cheeks rosy and thinking about a certain blonde with green eyes you could get lost in and a cute laugh to match, then that’s George’s business and George’s business alone.