dnf oneshots

8. sk8er boi

Skater Boy x Football Jock
[Based on a drawing by Liw-Ri on Instagram and Twitter] George is a part of what anyone could call a "skater gang." Dream is the best player on the college football team. George thinks it's all too coincedental, how he keeps bumping into the linebacker. He stops thinking after a turn of events (also called a party). [lime]

CW// alcohol mentions and consumption

George glared at Dream over the game of Would You Rather. He picked up his bottle of whiskey set aside especially for him by Karl and took a swig. The party had been really boring. Then the football team came, all sweaty and gross after a game. George knew they had probably showered, but the house sure didn't smell like they had.

George glared at Dream. He despised most of the team, but something about this one player didn't piss him off. Yet here he was, glaring at him. 

Somehow, the two had kept bumping into each other -- both literally and figuratively. First, they were put with three other people on a simple project in the one class they shared at school. Then his team decided to have an unscheduled practice session at the greenspace near George and his friends' skate park. 

It wasn't technically theirs, but no one else skated there.

George thought it was all too coincedental. He despised the team; yet not Dream. He didn't know why.

Maybe it was the modest air about him. How he was always surprised when something good happened to him, despite the fact he had the luck of the gods. Despite the fact he was the best player on the football team. 

Maybe it was how he was always smiling. George didn't care for people who smiled all the time, yet Dream's smile seemed to emit light, brightening any situation. George didn't want to use the cliché 'his smile lit up a room.'

Maybe it was how Dream looked at him. How his smile suddenly became less confident and more nervous around the skater. How he became more jumpy. How he was always scratching or fiddling. Yet maybe it was how his eyes lingered on George's, how his head cocked, as if he was analyzing the brunet. Waiting for... something. Maybe a reaction. So George was determined to not give him one. 

Across the circle of college students, Dream rested his chin on his fist and narrowed his eyes at George. A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as the staring contest ensued.

George was competitive. He knew Dream was probably more competitive, but he wasn't going to back down. He could go without blinking for a while, as he was used to having wind being blown into his eyes, sometimes as very high speeds. So when there was no wind, he was good to go. 

Dream's eyes fluttered shut for a second. He didn't seem to notice. George smiled and pointed at him. You blinked, he mouthed. 

No.

Yes.

No.

Yeah.

Fine.

George smirked. 

Dream smirked. 

Dream's eyes pulled away from George's and traveled slowly over his face. George tried to control the rising heat in his cheeks and neck, but he caught Dream's gaze snag on the red. 

His head tilted. He was analyzing George again. And suddenly, the world disappeared.

It was like time stopped. Or slowed down immensly. Just George and Dream, in a quiet world, watching each other. Two boys, who barely knew each other's names, looking at each other with such want that anyone would have thought they were two horny lovers who desperatly wanted to leave the party for some fun. George understood this, understood that his friends probably thought he was going crazy, looking at a football jock like that. Yet he didn't stop. He didn't try to make Dream stop looking at him either.