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The front door slammed shut and Dream looked up from his phone eyes wide. George stormed into the kitchen looking madder than Dream had seen him in a long while and based on the loud thump, dropped a couple of grocery bags on the counter. Dream crept over, careful to stand on the other side of the bar from George. His eyes widened at the chocolate cake mix George was currently ripping into. "Uh, hey, George. You, uh, doin' alright there?"
"Why do you ask?" George snapped, ignoring the cloud of chocolate that flew up when he unceremoniously dumped the mix into a bowl.
Dream's eyebrows shot up. "Well, you're making chocolate cake for one."
"What does that have to do with literally anything?"
"You always make chocolate cake when you're mad about something."
George paused and looked at Dream with his head cocked to the side. "Wait, really?" Dream nodded furiously and a little smile played at the corner of George's mouth. "Oh. I didn't know that."
"Mhm," Dream hummed, feeling a little more confident now that he knew he wasn't the focus of George's fury. "So, you maybe wanna tell me what's got you in such a pissy mood?"
George groaned at the reminder as he measured out vegetable oil and milk. "It's Eret. It's always Eret. They just- Ugh. I don't even know."
Dream made a sympathetic noise. He didn't really know much about George's relationship with this particular coworker, mostly just that the two of them butted heads almost constantly and George often came home in a bad mood because of it. So, he did what he did best and gave George a grin and cracked a joke. "You want me to kill that guy for you? Because it sounds like they suck and I will totally kill that guy for you."
But George didn't laugh or roll his eyes and give Dream a fond grin like he was supposed to. Instead he cocked his head to the side again and gave Dream a scrutinizing look. "Is that a legitimate offer? Because right now I would absolutely take you up on it."
Dream's breath stuck in his throat. "I- Uh, what?" he stuttered. "It's a Jo-"
"I know it's a John Mulaney bit," George dismissed, still staring intently into Dream's eyes. "But I want to know if it's an offer you'd be willing to make real."
"Why are you asking me that, George?" Dream asked, every word slow and drawn out from the care he took picking them.
"Because you've killed plenty of people," George insisted, stirring his batter with the same frenzy he had in his eyes. "C'mon, please? Kill Eret for me."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dream said, his tone clipped and cold and firm as he clenched his fists against his thighs.
"What, like I wasn't going to figure it out? You aren't nearly as slick as you think. I may be colorblind, but I can tell when a green hoodie has a fuck off massive bloodstain across the front of it. Plus, there's no way a normal house full of three men in their twenties goes through as many bottles of bleach in a month as we do."
"George, I-" Dream shook his head. His heart was racing hard and loud in his ears. "Listen to what you're saying."
George sighed and put down his spoon to give Dream his full attention. "Look. Dream, I'm not- I'm not, like, mad or scared or anything. I know that you killed people. Like Wilbur and Jack and Schlatt and that one lady from the Homeowner's Association. And I know for a fact that the whole Tommy bloodbath had your name all over it." He gave Dream a gentle smile, eyes soft and kind. "It's okay."
Dream still hesitated. Most of him wanted to believe every word out of George's mouth, and really he had no reason not to. Apparently George has known for ages and had more than enough evidence to turn him in. But there was always the possibility that this was a trap. That George had some kind of recording device awaiting his confession. But that didn't explain the passive aggressive printed Wikihow articles on getting blood out of clothes or how George always seemed to have an alibi for Dream, when someone thought to ask. So he took a deep breath and made the plunge. "Does Sapnap know?"
George smiled at him, looking very pleased with himself and also proud of Dream and went back to stirring cake batter. "Nah. You know Sap. He'd have some moral crisis if he even got a suspicion that he was sharing his house with a serial killer."
"What, and you didn't?"
"Pft. No. Why would I? It's not like you're killing me or people I actually like."
Dream just blinked at him, ironically feeling a little horrified. "George. That's- That's fucked up."
George looked up from the bowl of cake batter with his jaw dropped in an affronted little 'o.' He had the audacity to have a smear of chocolate down one side of his nose and be the absolute cutest thing Dream had seen in recent memory. Except maybe Patches. He kinda wanted to lick the chocolate, but he also wanted to kiss George all over his face until he was giggling and whining complaints and weakly smacking Dream's cheeks to bat him away. But mostly he just wanted to hear what exactly George had up his sleeve to defend himself. "Me? I'm the one who's fucked up? You're the one who kills people to get his rocks off."
Dream rolled his eyes. He should have expected deflection. That was George's specialty. "First off, I don't 'kill people to get my rocks off.'"
"Oh, it's just for normal, not-sexy fun then. Right. That makes all the difference."
Dream shot him a half hearted glare. "It's not for fun either. I kill people with purpose."
"Yeah? And beating a literal child to death with your bare hands was just part of some plan? Definitely not for the entertainment value?"
Dream's lips quirked up at the memory and he had to bite his lips to hold back a chuckle. "Okay, so sometimes it's a little for fun-"
" Ha!"
"But you're the one who's just, I dunno, okay with that! That's worse!"
George spluttered. "How is that worse ?"
Dream flapped his hand through the air dismissively. "I probably have, like, some kind of psychological damage or something. My mom didn't hug me enough as a kid, I guess."
"You take that back. I've met your mother and she's a lovely woman. Also, your claim that you're like this because of mental health issues is ableist and demonizes mentally ill people."
"Hold on, I literally am neurodivergent, though. Maybe you're the one who's being ableist."
"Most ADHD people don't kill for fun and profit, Dream ."
"I can't control my hyperfixations, George. "
George tried to hold back his laughter but it burst forward in a loud accidental raspberry. "Oh my god, this is not like that time you played Geoguessr for, like, a month solid until you could win within two clicks."
Dream perked up at the mention of his last obsession and he knew that if he were a dog his ears would be pricked up and his tail would be wagging a mile a minute. "Yeah, that was fun. I did get pretty good at it, didn't I?"
George laughed again, his eyes squinty and shining and looking beyond happy and Dream could feel his heart floating and beating against his chest. "You know, for someone who fishes for compliments as often as you, you're really bad at it."
"Come oooooon, George," Dream whined leaning his chest across the counter to tug at the hem of George's sweater. "Tell me I'm cracked."
"Oh my god," George giggled, swatting his hands away. "You're so embarrassing."
"George! Pleeeaaaasssee?"
George rolled his eyes dramatically. "Fine then. You're cracked, Dream."
"Fuck yeah. Now that's how I get my rocks off."
"You freak."
Dream shrugged with a wide grin. "What can I say? ADHD brain hardwired for praise kink."
George grinned. "But seriously. Back to the topic at hand. Will you kill Eret for me or not?"
Dream hummed in thought for a half second. "Yeah, I can do that."
George beamed at him and dabbed a bit of cake batter on the end of Dream's nose before kissing it off. Dream couldn't be bothered to hide the sappy smile that formed. "Thank you, Dream."
Oh yeah. Eret was gonna fucking die.