"Why can't I come with you?!" Tommy asked as he followed George and the other field team workers out to their cars.
"Tommy," George replied sternly, "You read this in your packet, right? As an intern you aren't allowed at crime scenes, besides you're only seventeen."
"Yeah, seventeen years of experience! That's a lot." Tommy pleaded, "Please, George, let me come with you!"
George shook his head as he got in the passenger seat. Jack started the car and George said to Tommy, "I'm sorry. Maybe try getting to know the other interns. You could make a friend."
George felt a little guilty as he watched Tommy's sad expression disappear from view. However, he shook the feelings off and focused on the task at hand.
This victim was found in an abandoned rental space where he had been living temporarily. George frowned when they reached the crime scene.
The victim was a young, Hispanic male from based on what George could tell. He walked up to the body and inspected the dagger. It didn't seem to have anything on it other than Dream's signature smile and this time there was no note.
That's unusual.
George glanced to Jack, who said, "They're thinking he might be a Mexican agent."
George raised his eyebrows and looked at the police officers identifying the body. They were in deep conversation and seconds later one of them pulled out his phone. George asked, "So what's he doing here?"
Jack shrugged. George didn't know what more to say. He hadn't learned much on the American government's policy with foreign agents being killed. Seeing as the man was already dead, George's station would have to contact higher authorities who would talk to the Mexican government.
"This is going to be difficult," George muttered.
~
The next morning was a Friday and Clay dropped George off like usual. This time however, instead of being greeted with happy good mornings he was greeted with a rushed introduction to a new man.
"Agent Quackity," the man said and stuck his hand out to George. "I'm here from Mexico to sort out this mess with my friend who was murdered."
"Detective George," George replied and shook his hand. "I'm sorry about your friend."
Quackity smiled sadly, "John Smith was a good agent and friend. I'm here to help you catch Dream. Now that he's murdered my friend, I'm making sure he gets put in prison for good."
George nodded and Technoblade entered the room. Techno's eyes narrowed as he approached Quackity. "Alex," Techno greeted stiffly.
"Techno," Quackity bit out, shaking Techno's hand reluctantly. "Long time no see."
Techno's lips thinned. He said, "You know that you have to report back to Mexico as soon as Dream is found, right? I don't want to see any funny business."
George looked between them awkwardly. Quackity nodded sharply. "I'm here for my job, nothing more."
Technoblade nodded briefly and left. George asked, "What was that about?"
"He wasn't aware that there was an undercover Mexican agent in Orlando. No one told him and now he's pissed. But it wasn't my job to inform him― he's just salty."
"Huh," George muttered. He and Quackity talked more and eventually Quackity was shown around the station― minus the classified areas― and got to know whoever he needed to know on the case.
"So, this Dream guy," Quackity asked as they walked out of the station after a long day, "what drives him?"
"I've been trying to figure that out for a while," George admitted. "At first I thought he did it because he liked the adrenaline and running from the cops... but now I think that there are other factors that we don't know about."
"Like what?"
"I don't know," George said after a moment. "I've been on this case for multiple months and I think he's changing."
"How so?"
George hesitated. He chewed on his cheek for a moment before muttering, "I don't know. I can just sense it."
Quackity went silent and they stopped in front of his car. He offered George a ride, but George declined and called an uber. Minutes later his ride arrived and George told the driver to go to the same pub he went often.
"Hey George!" Karl greeted from behind the bar. "How have you been? I haven't seen you in a week― wait, what happened to your arm?!"
George glanced at his cast and replied, "Oh, I broke it at work. How are you?"
"I'm good, thank you," Karl said with a smile.
"I'm sorry I never took up your offer on showing me around. I met someone who showed me the best places."
Karl studied George's soft smile and nodded. "I'm glad that you're liking it here."
Karl served George his usual order. George was finishing up when his phone rang. He didn't recognize the number, but he answered anyways.
"Hello?"
"Hello George," Dream replied in his usual disguised voice.
George froze and scanned the pub around him. He whispered, "Dream?! Why are you calling me?"
It was quiet for a moment. Dream eventually answered, "I wanted to check up on you."
"Oh," George muttered, feeling himself relax. Something about Dream didn't scare him as much anymore. "Wait― why do you care so much?"
Dream didn't reply. George sighed and left the pub. "Y'know, for a serial killer, I would think that you would―"
Hands grabbed him and pulled him into the alley. George dropped his phone to defend himself against the attacker. It was an older man, clearly drunk by the smell on his breath. The man slurred, "What's a pretty boy like you doing out alone on a Friday night?"
George's eyes widened as he tried to push the man off him. His right arm was screaming in pain as he moved. George kneed the man in his groin and scrambled for his phone on the pavement. The man doubled over and George said frantically into the phone, "Dream? Are you still there?!"
"Yes," Dream replied immediately, "what's wrong?"
"Why you little shit!" the drunk man shouted and approached George.
George stumbled onto his feet and was backed against the wall. He gasped as the man punched him into his stomach. His head reeled and he said into his phone, "Help me."
"Where are you?" Dream asked, his voice frantic.
"I'll teach you a lesson you ungrateful shit," the man slurred, his eyes raging. "When someone shows you attention, you respond with a thank you."
George's eyes widened and the man's fist swung into his face. He spat out blood and used the last of his energy to kick the man off him. He sighed in relief as the man fell onto the ground. "Never mind," George said breathlessly to Dream.
He leaned against the nearest building wall and took deep breaths. "Why did you call me?"
"I― I thought we had something," Dream replied quietly. "...are you sure you're okay?"
"Listen Dream," George said harshly. "You saved me from Sapnap, I saved you from him. Dont look into things. I just returned the favor."
Dream went quiet. George froze when he saw a glimmer of silver come from the man on the ground. The drunkard stood up shakily and pulled out a gun. George's breath caught and he raised his hand in front of him. "Put the gun down."
"No," the man sneered, "you shouldn't have done that. Now you're gonna get what you deserve."
George shouted as the man stumbled forward and pulled the trigger. Since he was drunk, the gun swerved left as he moved, causing the bullet to barely graze George's arm. George took out his own gun from it's holster.
"Don't make me do this," George said frantically, but when the man wouldn't stop coming towards him, George's finger pulled back as a reflex. A loud shot rang out, accompanying the busy Orlando street noises.
The man shouted, looking at George with wide eyes as he fell forward onto his knees. His eyes lost focus and he fell forward, thumping onto the ground. George was frozen, one thought on his mind: I just killed someone.
"George!" Dream shouted into his ear, "Answer me! Are you okay? George?!"
George let out a choked noise and slumped against the wall, sliding to the ground. His eyes couldn't leave the body in front of him. "He― I... he's dead," George whispered in disbelief, "I killed him."
"Thank god," Dream replied with a relieved sigh. When George whimpered, Dream asked in a worried tone, "George? Where are you?"
George muttered, "In the alley outside the pub."
"I'm on my way."
The phone at George's ear beeped as the call ended. George glanced at the near dead battery before letting his phone slide to the pavement below him. He flinched as blood started to seep out from under the man.
Dream arrived minutes later, ignoring the dead man and rushing to George's side. Gloved hands gently grabbed George's face― like it was a familiar action for Dream. George flinched away from Dream's touch. Dream reluctantly pulled his hands back as he said, "Come with me."
George looked at the white smiley mask in front of him and shook his head. But he didn't fight when Dream grabbed his hand and led him to a black truck. George listened to Dream, sitting numbly in the passenger seat.
He didn't react when he heard the locks click. However, when a thump came from the trunk, George flinched. He flinched again when Dream got in the truck and started the engine. George turned his head to look out his window, staring outside blankly. I just killed someone.
"George?" Dream asked once he stopped the truck. When George said nothing, Dream sighed and muttered, "I'm going to take care of the body, okay? Wait in here."
George didn't even blink in response. After a moment Dream left the truck, locking it again, and took care of the body.
It was an hour before he returned.
Dream drove them to an apartment building and led George inside. At this point George was still too numb to care if he was about to get murdered. He was both comforted and scared by Dream.
George finally came to his senses when Dream locked the door behind him in his apartment. "Wait— what am I doing here?"
"I know what it's like to kill someone for the first time. I was alone afterwards and it isn't something that should be repeated... I'm helping you."
"Why?"
Dream ignored the question and walked into a room. George hesitantly followed. Dream pointed to a chair in the kitchen and George cautiously sat down.
He watched as Dream pulled off his gloves and tossed them in a plastic bag. The masked killer washed his hands and brought a wet cloth to George. George didn't move as Dream sat across from him and gently wiped George's face.
George closed his eyes at the warmth, leaning into the caring touch. Something about Dream's hands were familiar to George, but he was too tired to place the familiarity.
The cloth lingered on his cheek before tracing over his bottom lip. George's eyes opened and he narrowed them at Dream. "What are you doing?"
"Admiring you."
George felt strangely comforted by Dream's honest words, but then he remembered who he was. He stood up abruptly, the chair behind him scraping against the floor. He backed up, saying loudly, "Get away from me."
Dream seemed to expect this response because he stayed seated and replied softly, "I'm not going to hurt you."
"You kill people."
"And you haven't?"
George's shoulder sagged and he slumped back into his seat. "I-I know. It was self defense, okay?" George paused and his eyes started to get blurry. He whispered, "But he's still dead... because of me, not you. Am I a monster now too?"
Dream winced, saying nothing. George ran his uninjured hand through his hair and muttered, "Oh god, I killed someone. He's dead. Did he have a family? Did he have children? Oh no― are they going to wake up with no father?"
George's felt his breathing pick up and he couldn't control it. Tears escaped his eyes and he let out a sob. Dream was frozen, seemingly unsure of what to do. George's hands shook as he tried to calm down. "I-I didn't mean it," George whispered frantically, "I didn't want to kill him... what if people know it was me? Am I going to jail?"
His breathing became even quicker and he said, "I should go to jail. I killed someone― I deserve it."
Fingers gripped his chin and George looked frantically into two black eyes. Dream brushed a thumb over George's cheek bone and said in a raspy murmur, "You don't deserve it. It was self defense."
"He's still dead," George whispered, his voice cracking. His breathing quickened. "He's still dead. He's never gonna wake up again... he'll never―"
"Listen," Dream interrupted him, "you're a good person, George. You care about him and his family, but you need to let them go now. Forget about them because nothing good will come out of worrying over this."
Dream's words didn't help. George looked around the kitchen wildly, his gaze snagging on kitchen knives. He breathed, "I killed someone... do I deserve death now?"
"No," Dream said quickly, causing George to look back at him. "You don't deserve death."
"But―" George's frantic thinking was cut off by Dream lifting his mask to reveal tan skin and soft lips. Lips soon met his and stopped all of George's thinking.
George's eyes fluttered shut and he quickly returned the kiss, eager for something else to think about. Dream tasted strangely familiar, but that train of thought was lost as George remembered, Clay.
His eyes flew opened and he shoved Dream away with his free hand. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he watched Dream pull his mask back down. "What the fuck!" George exclaimed, "What was that for?!"
Dream didn't seem fazed. He just leaned back and crossed his arms. "I heard kissing helps stop panic attacks. Seems like it worked."
What is Clay going to say about this? George stammered, "I- I have to go."
"I can't let you leave," Dream said. When George's eyes widened, Dream added, "You know where I live. I can't let you leave until I find a new place to stay."
"I just want to leave," George said quickly. "I won't tell anyone, I promise."
"I don't trust you."
George looked to the pathway around Dream, frantically looking for an escape. "Please," he pleaded, "I won't say anything! You can trust me."
"No," Dream said harshly, "you can stay in the guest room tonight while I find someplace to stay."
George paled. He was going to sleep in the same house as a serial killer? Dream led him to a simple bedroom, plainly decorated. Dream left briefly and returned with a bag in hand. He handed it to George and muttered, "Clothes, if you want them."
George silently took the clothes and whispered, "Why am I still alive? Why haven't you killed me?"
Dream was quiet for a long moment before he said, "I have my reasons." He closed the door after whispering, "Sleep well George."
The lock clicked and George sank to the floor, putting his head in his hands and sobbing quietly. He didn't sleep well that night.
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a/n - what would you guys do if you were in George's situation?
personally, I would stay bc dream is hot
bye <3