Chapter Text
The faint ding of a text notification over the sound of the music playing through his blue earbuds draws George out from the tunnel-vision focus on his coding project. He pulls his eyes away from the brightly lit screen of his laptop, realizing with a start that his room is much darker than it was when he sat down. The sun must have set already, he observes as he reaches to unlock his phone.
George & Bitch-ster
Bitch-ster: hey asshole
Bitch-ster: mom and dad want to know when ur coming for break
Bitch-ster: they also wanna know if ur bringing anyone with u ;)
George sighs, willing himself to not toss his phone across the room. Of course his parents were using the excuse of the holidays to annoy him about his increasingly scarce love life. He turns on the lamp on his desk, pushing down the bubble of annoyance before dignifying his older sister with a response.
George: my flight lands on sunday night
Bitch-ster: what about the 2nd thing??? ;)
George: shut up, monica
Bitch-ster: that doesn’t answer the quesiton
George: …
George: if it matters that much…
George: yes im bringing someone, don’t flip out on me
He watches the three bubbles that signify his sister typing a response for a minute, mulling over the message he just sent. George had just fucked up big time. Here he was, single as anyone could possibly be, promising his family that he was going to be flying to Brighton in three days with a significant other.
His phone dings again and he has to force himself to look at the reply.
Bitch-ster: HOLY SHIT???
Bitch-ster: do i get any deets?
George: absolutely not.
Bitch-ster: :( ur lame
Bitch-ster: i guess i’ll find out when you both get here ;)
George: see u then.
After placing his phone face down on his desk, George ignores the next couple of annoying texts he gets from his older sister in favor of mentally punching himself in the face. His thoughts race with every possible option he has to make this work. Maybe he could put out a craigslist ad, who knows how many single college kids would jump at the chance of a free vacation to the UK. No, that’s stupid , not to mention extremely risky. He could fake a bad breakup, pretend like it ended so badly that he doesn’t want to speak about it. George remembers how much of a terrible actor he is and decides to scrap that idea.
Finding someone to date him and then be willing to meet his whole family less than three days after meeting was an unlikely scenario, so George thinks of one last solution to the hole he has dug himself: bring a friend and pretend to date them.
It’s not the worst idea George has ever had by a long shot, but which one of his friends would be willing to fake date him for ten days around his family. He goes down a mental checklist of people he would consider asking. He thought of a few of his classmates, but none of them were close enough with him for him to be comfortable asking. Nick was already in a relationship, and already told George that he was planning on visiting his family for the holiday break, so he wasn’t an option.
Every person he can think of to ask, his brain comes up with a reason why he can’t ask them.
Frustrated at the situation he put himself in, George decides to be finished with his coding final for the night. He shuts his laptop down and decides to leave his room for a quick snack. The time on his phone display helpfully informs him that he had been coding for nearly four hours.
George feels his stomach rumble. As he steps out of his room into the common area of the shared apartment, he can hear the faint chatter of Dream streaming from down the hallway.
George feels like he has been punched in the stomach. Of course . He can imagine the invisible box of his dilemma fade away as he makes the realization.
Dream.
He should ask Dream to go with him.
George realizes that he has stopped dead in the middle of the hall in their apartment and forces himself to move before Nick can find him frozen in place like an idiot. That’s a bout of teasing that George would rather live without.
He forces his feet to carry him down the hallway to the kitchen. George thinks over every possible reason why Clay might decline a free trip to England- well, every reason other than having to pretend to date his best friend of course- coming to the conclusion that his best friend is also the best person to proposition this to.
George pours himself a bowl of fruit loops to serve as a late night snack as he decides with an odd sense of finality to ask Clay to go home with him for the holidays.
He sits down on the couch in their living room as he eats his bowl of colorful cereal, and decides to pull open Dream’s stream on his phone. The vague sound of his voice from down the hallway clarifies through his earbuds, still in his ears from earlier. George wonders how Clay finds the time and energy to stream speedruns in the middle of finals week, feeling a little guilty that he himself hasn’t streamed in well over a week due to course work.
He entertains chat a little bit by sending a few messages, poking fun at Dream’s strategies on the current run he’s doing. George listens to the other laugh down the hall before it echoes directly into his ears from the headphones. Chat erupts with messages of hello’s and questions of where he has been for a week. George ignores them all in favor of sending a few donations with shitty jokes in the comment line.
After another hour of runs, George listens as Clay finally ends the stream. He welcomes the end of the stream as a chance to move off of the couch, stretching his legs and depositing the now empty bowl into the dishwasher.
Opening Twitter, he returns to his spot on the sofa and scrolls through tweets he has missed from the day. George registers the sound of a door opening down the hallway as he reads several dozen tweets complaining about his absence of late. Footsteps approach from the end of the hall, and George looks up when he feels the couch shift as weight is added to the other end.
“Having fun crashing my chat?” Clay asks with a grin. His viridian eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief in the light of the night.
George laughs. “You’re an ass, you know that?” There’s no real bite to his words, and he knows that Clay knows as much. The other man lets out a soft chuckle. In the yellow lighting of their college apartment, George can see the faint outline of bags under Clay’s eyes, and the hints of exhaustion across his freckled features.
George realizes with a twinge of sadness that Clay has probably been staying up extra late after streaming to finish his work for the semester.
“You look tired.” He blurts out without thinking. George’s own exhaustion wearing down the filter between his brain and his mouth.
“Yeah.” Is the response.
There’s a weighted pause for a few moments. George rolls over words in his brain, trying to best figure out the way to approach the question he needs to ask.
“What are your plans for the break?” Clay questions before George can speak. The faint flutter of anxiety that was starting to spark continues to build in the latter’s chest. George tries to ignore the feeling.
“Actually, I need to talk to you about that.”
Clay tilts his head to the side. George’s brain very helpfully supplies the comparison between his friend and a puppy at the gesture. He can almost see the gears turning in Clay’s head.
“I don’t really know how to- I guess I should- ugh!” George stumbles over the words. He huffs in frustration and starts over. “Let me ask first: do you have any plans for the break?” Part of his mind has a growing feeling of something- hope, maybe?- building quickly as he awaits the response. What is probably only thirty seconds before Dream speaks feels like an eternity to George.
“Uh, no, not really.” Clay mumbles, his expression still writhe with confusion. “I was probably going to stay here for the break, since my parents are going on vacation for their anniversary.”
Perfect . George fights back the smile of relief that tries to cross his face. He realizes he’s been silent for too long when Dream speaks again.
“Why?”
“So, hear me out on this first.” George rushes, nerves getting the best of him. He carefully watches his friend’s expression to try and read his thoughts. “I may or may not have told my sister that I was bringing home a partner for the holidays.”
He takes a breath.
“Problem is, I’m not actually dating anyone and I’m leaving Sunday morning to go back home.” He continues to explain.
“That’s only in three days.” Clay says flatly, a look of complete confusion and something else George can’t distinguish written on his face.
“No shit, Sherlock.” George shoots back. He nervously plays with the hem of his hoodie. Since when did Dream make him so nervous? “Anyways, I guess what I’m trying to ask is: would you pretend to be my boyfriend when I go home to visit my family for the holidays?”
Clay splutters, his face turning red enough that George can actually see the flush burning under his freckles. “You want me to- What?! ”
Not exactly the reaction George wanted to receive, but he isn’t sure what else he had been expecting to happen.
He starts to backpedal. “I mean, you really don’t have to. I’m kind of royally screwed if I don’t bring someone home because I think a ‘breakup’ right before the holidays is super fishy, but I totally understand if the idea makes you uncomfortable and you don’t want to come.” George rambles, feeling a warmth building in his own cheeks with his embarrassment. “Really, it’s not that big of a deal if you say no. I just didn’t have anyone else to ask. At least not anyone who-”
“ George .”
Clay’s voice breaks through his thoughts, putting his rambling to a sudden halt. George can’t really tell what the expression on the other’s face is, but he can still faintly see the bright red blush high on his cheekbones. A stray thought crosses his mind that Clay looks cute when he’s flustered- where the fuck did that come from?
“Yeah?” He responds softly before his thoughts can spiral again.
“I’ll come with you.”
It’s George’s turn to splutter. He feels the blush on his own cheeks begin to spread higher. It has to be illegal to be this flustered, he thinks to himself as he chokes on his own words. Somewhere, he’s well aware of Dream wheezing at the expression on his face.
“Wait, really?” He wheezes, out of breath as he calms himself down. “You’re saying you’ll pretend to be my boyfriend for the holidays? For real?”
“Stop questioning it before I take it back.” There’s a guarded edge to Clay’s voice that says he means the words. George decides to shut his mouth before he says anything else stupid. “Yes, I’ll do it. But you need to pay for my plane ticket.” Clay chews on his lower lip for a moment, clearly thinking before he continues. “And do my laundry for a month.”
A small price to pay to make his parents happy and avoid his own humiliation, George decides.
“Deal.”
“Cool.” Dream says, the expression on his face still unreadable.
“Cool.” George responds with next to no emotion in his voice, his mind still racing about ten-thousand thoughts per second.
What in the hell has he gotten them into?