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//

𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝒫𝒪𝒱

I finally got away from Laura, claiming I had a few more people to meet up with. She was intelligent; she wouldn't be here otherwise. But she's also arrogant, and definitely thinks she's the shit. Investment banking, her speciality, wasn't even that cool anyway.

I avoid the men who've been eyeing me since she dragged me near their vicinity to dance. Leia said to get over myself and talk to people because I was good at it, but she didn't exactly specify to whom. All I've got to do is wait until they come to me.

Who I do need to find right now, is Barlowe, who she said would be lurking around for a little while. I need to get him to lay off for a few weeks, at least until I can figure something out. A frown pulls at my lips when I look around, not spotting him anywhere.

I peer up at the staircases, watching movement up on the balcony. Might as well take a look. I flag down a waiter and grab a flute of champagne, downing it in one go, before strolling up the stairs.

The men look up for their wicker seats, mixed expressions on all their faces. Three of them smile, tipping their glasses in hello. The rest shift in their seats looking slightly intimidated, their faces spelling out their wondering what I'm up to. Barlowe sits front and center, with a huge smirk.

"Gentlemen." I greet, taking a seat in their circle. I feel like I'm in between the popular football team in high school, except less attractive and a lot more intelligent.

"Fancy seeing you here kid." Barlowe says, stretching his arms out behind his chair. "I've really screwed you haven't I?"

"Ah, you wish." I chuckle, picking a wine bottle off the table and pouring myself a glass. They watch me nurse it in my hand, taking a sip with a sigh. "Unfortunately it's me you're talking about. You know I'll find my way out of this some way or another. For all you know, I have. The question is, how unhappy are you going to make me right now."

He raises his eyebrow, leaning back. The other men are pin drop silent.

"Because when my company doubles your size in a year or two, I won't show an ounce of restraint." I stand up, tipping the glass up to sip the last of the bitter liquid before setting it on the table with a sharp clink. "I can't call myself a man if I can't hold a grudge, now can I?" I almost puke. That's probably the most old white man sentence I've ever said.

"No sir." One of them laughs, ignoring Barlowe's silencing look. "Young man's got some balls in his back pocket."

"Our companies are friends, kid. A little feud between you and I won't change that." He replies, cold and unyielding.

"But unlike you, I've got a good relationship with my people. They'll agree with whatever I suggest, because they know I'm advocating for the benefit of everyone. I always told you that treating people like shit is gonna bite you in the ass one day." I fix him with an equally cold stare. "Drop the acquisition threat. Or I swear to you, I'll bring down your whole damn legacy."

The funniest thing about it is that he knows I can too. Years of unwanted relations have brought up dirty plays and foul business they've buried. And he never made me sign an NDA, because he thought he'd never have reason to. One post on Twitter, and their bad reputation hits the gutter. The only reason he wants my company is to redeem himself.

"Alright kid. I'll drop it." He shrugs nonchalantly. "But the merger has already passed your Board members. They only agreed to the acquisition because they didn't want to deal with your company anymore. You can't do anything about that."

I stand up, straightening my suit. "We'll see." We really will. That was pure luck. Holy shit.

I descend down the mahogany stairs, scanning the room at the bottom. Right now, I need George's quiet company, and something other than that shit-tasting wine. My gaze lands on the familiar Brit, immediately looking to his left to figure out who he's talking to. It's not hard to recognize his tall stature and distinct pink hair. And of course, Technoblade never leaves Phil's side.

George is so fixated on his conversation that he doesn't even notice me walking by them, tapping to get the bartender's attention. "Manhattan on the rocks," I place a few bills on the table, trying hard not to eavesdrop, and failing spectacularly.

Phil and George were in a deep debate, somewhere along the lines of solar power and whether the positive publicity was worth the millions of dollars spent renovating country-wide. Even Techno looked like he was interested in what George was saying, and Technoblade is rarely interested in anything. At least during these socials.

"Ah, excuse me? Sir?" I look at the bartender trying to get my attention. "You just gave me a four hundred dollar tip." Shit, those were supposed to be fives.

"Merry Christmas," I shrug, picking up my glass and walking over to the trio. Phil sees me coming, smiling kindly as he makes room in their little circle. George flashes the biggest smile I've seen him in all night, greeting me with enthusiasm. "Hello Phil, Technoblade. Hey George."

Techno raises his wine glass in welcome.

"I just paid 400 bucks for some whiskey because I was so riveted by your conversation." I mutter with contempt, taking a sip. Not that I'd never give that much money to a bartender, but it was usually after at least a couple of drinks.

Shoot. I forgot I had a whole flute of champagne, and a glass of wine. My four hundred dollar drink stays stagnant on the counter, as I place it down with contempt. I wasn't lightweight, it's just that too much alcohol doesn't mix well with me. The best case scenario is a really terrible hangover. The worst is weird fucking nightmares fueled by whatever I was feeling stressed or guilty about that particular night. Might as well avoid that when I can. Not to mention I had to drive George home.

"You eavesdroppin' on us Dream?" Techno pokes fun and I zone back in, shaking my head with a grin. "What a nerd. He's too shy to come talk to people so he's over there eavesdroppin' on the adult conversations."

"Wow Dream, I can't believe you're letting him bully you like that. That's so embarrassing." George teases. I drop my jaw, muttering traitor at him with very harsh intent.

"Lay off him, both of ya." Phil cracks a smile, looking at the ground in exasperation.

"I leave you alone for a few minutes and you consort with Technoblade." I sneer at George, grinning as Techno laughs.

Phil tuts at the both of us, tilting his chin toward the entrance. "Alright lads, we better be off. I've got to go visit my wife, help her out with some stuff."

"Say hi to Kristen for me," I nod.

George gapes as they leave, turning to me. "Kristen is his wife!?"

By the time I finish meeting everyone and tolerate their praises, George downs at least half a bottle of wine and we're both just about ready to fall over with exhaustion. I murmur goodbye to the "banker" from Vegas, whom I'm almost certain is involved in something illegal. I commit his name to memory, just in case, before turning to my friend. "Too much socialization?"

"Far too much." He sighs, gulping down the last of alcohol in his glass. "I'm a bit dizzy."

"You keep drinking, what do you expect?" I snort, gesturing to him to put his glass down.

"It's not my fault. They keep offering and before I say no, they give me one. What am I meant to do?" He complains, adjusting the gleaming silver watch on his wrist.

I see Laura laughing loudly in a small group, her diamond jewelry gleaming in the muted light. She turns and I glance at George to avoid her gaze. "Come on, go time." I murmur at him, walking swiftly back to the entrance. He hurries after me, mumbling what the hell? with an irritated frown.

The valet driver notices us at the top of the carpet, and waves cheerfully. I wave back, watching as he runs to the garage to get my car. "M'kay. People are gonna take our picture again. But usually I stop and let them do an interview or two. Don't look at the lights too much and pass out, I really don't want us to make headlines tonight."

"I'm not going to pass out." He replies, voice laced with annoyance. We descend down the stairs quickly, and I pick out one of the less obnoxious journalists trying to grab my attention, putting up a peace sign for the cameras we pass by. George just follows me quietly, trying not to grimace at the constant sensory overload.

"Dream! Nancy Anderson, People magazine. Do you have some time for a couple questions?"

"Sure, go ahead." I turn to face her, and she beams, pulling down a shiny brown dress with a leg slit that goes half-way up her thigh. Her features are sharp with the makeup she chose to wear. Other reporters push her over, trying to ask their own questions, and I try to tune them out.

"Many on social media have been wondering who your companion is today, you were sighted with him this afternoon and here tonight. Is he a friend? Family? Boyfriend?" George shifts behind me just a little bit, and I try not to laugh. She's talking about him like he's not standing right next to me.

She raises the mic up and I lean down a little. "You can ask him if you want," George nudges my shoulder in protest and I laugh. "Okay, maybe next time."

He raises an eyebrow when I don't answer the question. I shoot him a mischievous grin. Let the speculation fester a little bit. It's nothing but fun for us anyway. The lady looks disgruntled, but moves on to her next question, desperate to keep my attention.

"You've been called a catalyst for innovation in the technology industry, what do you say to that?"

"I say I'm flattered. But being a catalyst doesn't matter if it's not acting on the right experiment. That's what today was about, introducing something new to improve upon orthodox tech." She nods, racking her mind for another question.

Her next questions weren't given the most thought out answers because George was being really fucking annoying, not-so-subtly leaning against me. I had half a mind to tell him to stop; we had like a million cameras on us. But before I could, she was already asking me her next question.

"People have been wondering if your sister will join your legacy, or build her own. What's your response to that?"

"Regardless of what she does, my sister has a very bright future ahead of her. She's more dedicated and hardworking than I am at times." I answer truthfully. She smiles, looking relieved at my answers. I'm not really sure how I could answer wrong, but whatever. I wave goodbye at her, and she bustles off to talk to someone else. Ignoring all other requests, I shift George off of me. "What are you doing you idiot?"

"...could we go?" He asks. It isn't in a whiny child voice like Sapnap does whenever I drag him to one of these so I glance down in confusion. George looked really pale, his eyes only opened the tiniest bit as he apologized, looking really self-concious.

I immediately let him lean on me again. "Shit, don't apologize. Come on, can you–"

"Yeah," He nods, opening his eyes again, pain spreading across his features. He pushes himself off my shoulder and I try to hover a hand over his arm, just in case he does pass out. We hurry down the beautiful scarlet carpet, now blemished with high-heel indents and shoe-polish. As soon as we make contact with the road, paparazzi swarm us, flashing cameras in our faces and shouting out greetings.

I curse under my breath, trying to make my way through them to the car. "Hey guys, right now's really not a good time alright? We're both bone tired," I try to play it off, pushing past the guys blocking our way.

"Please dude, we need a clear picture."

"Lookin' good man,"

"Heyy, any Christmas plans Dream?"

"Where's Sapnap?"

"You gonna release a clothing line Dream? You've got good style for a gamer."

"Guys!" I yell, my own voice echoing painfully in my ears. "Please! Please, let me get to my car."

I've never yelled at them before. It seems to startle them, and I'm able to squeeze past, leading George to the passenger side. I open the door just as his knees give out, and I catch him before anyone notices, pushing him into the seat and closing it quickly. I'm free to use all force necessary to get to the other side now that I don't have George practically hanging on me. I push a camera lens out of my face and slam the car door, catching my breath as the heavily tinted windows give us a bit of privacy.

"George?" I call, shaking his shoulder. He nods weakly, shielding his eyes from the windshield. People were practically climbing on my hood. "Jeez, I'm so sorry."

"S'not your fault." He leans back in his seat, fully closing his eyes with a sigh of relief. "Someone yelled something at me and I accidentally looked up like an idiot. They clicked one right into my eyes."

"Let's get out of here," Tapping the horn, I watch them as they scramble out of the way. I speed off around the block, hands gripping the wheel calmly as I ease off the accelerator once we get far enough away. The only good thing is that we were one of the first to leave, so there's probably a low chance of being followed since there are more people they have to try and harass.

I keep an eye on him, making sure he doesn't fucking pitch forward and die when I stop at a traffic light or something. He notices, poking my arm. "Stop it. You've got on this guilty pout that makes you look stupid."

"Thanks George." I murmur, focusing on getting us home. "What's it like? Is it like...a headache or,"

"Have you ever looked at the sun for a very long time?" He asks. I hum. "It's like that. Like, you get the spots in your eyes, and after that you get hot pain around that area. But it only lasts for a few seconds. That's why I pass out, but wake up fairly quickly."

We circle a roundabout as I process the information. It did make sense. Even when he hit his head back in the coffee shop, he woke up straight away, which was probably why he wasn't as panicked after the initial shock. It sucks that this happens to him often. It sucks even more that I couldn't prevent his latest one.

"Dreeaaam," George whines, startling me out of my stupor. I crack a smile as we stop in front of the apartment building. "I'm so hungry."

"Deal with it, we're like two seconds away from the apartment." I scoff, handing my keys to the doorman and paying him a tip. He complains as we get into the elevator, talking my ears off until the doors close. "George! Okay, what do you want?"

"Mmm," He thinks for a second. "A piggyback ride. I don't want to walk."

I wrinkle my nose. "What? No. I mean for dinner."

He ignores me, inclining his chin expectantly. "Will always says yes!"

"I'm not Wilbur!"

"Well obviously, he's stronger than you."

"Are you dogging on my masculinity Georgie?"

"It's true," He shrugs.

My jaw drops with offense. "No he's not. He's just a tall twig."

"I'll tell him you said that."

"Don't."

He smirks threateningly as the doors slide open onto our floor. I sigh, kneeling down to the floor, letting him hop onto my back. George exhales slowly, dropping his chin onto the top of my head, locking his legs around either side of my waist. "Did you just sniff my hair?" I wheeze, feeling his nose in my hair as we approach our door.

"No, you idiot," He defends.

"Ok, suure." I mumble under my breath, earning a kick to my backside. I give him the card to swipe, and he nudges the door open. We both take our shoes off, dropping them near the entrance. I stroll us over to the couch, ready to dump him but decide against it, placing him down on the cushions gently. The last thing I need is for him to actually pass out. Then I'll owe him another piggyback ride.

George splays out on the couch, so I head to the kitchen. Chicken broth spills into the saucepan, and I wait for it to start simmering before adding heavy cream. Descending into routine, a multitude of vibrant vegetables I had on hand get minced and added to the pot, along with a few other herbs and spices. A pinch of flour to make it thicker later, I stir it every once in a while until it's done.

I look back at George who was now hard at work on my laptop, typing furiously. His eyebrows are furrowed in thought as he mumbles under his breath, biting his bottom lip when he reads something he doesn't like. Curious, I serve up two bowls of soup, walking over and handing one to him.

"Thank you," He mumbles, blowing at the spoon before taking a tentative sip. "You can actually cook?"

"I love the confidence you have in me George." I sip at my own spoon, looking at my laptop in confusion.

"Well I thought you were like, heating something up."

"For that long?" I wheezed. "I was over there for twenty minutes!"

"Shut up. I don't know, okay?" He grumbles. "Cooking isn't my forte."

"So, what have you been up to?" I ask, leaning into his space to look at the device. There were like a million tabs open, it looked like he was looking at different companies. But there were also articles open about the process of merging.

"So assuming that you got that Barlowe fellow to drop the acquisition, which I'm sure you did. You're well, you..." He trails off, too preoccupied with finding the link he wanted to show me to realize what he just said. "Right, so I've been trying to figure out how we're going to do this, because honestly, there's not much you can do if the Board is hell bent on a merger. They've got more shares than you combined together do they not?"

I nod, studying him as he explains his idea. Heat curls in my gut, and it wasn't from my fantastic cooking skills.

"But if you can convince them to drop this merger for another one, a better company that won't drag your reputation through the mud, it could benefit you and them." He says, holding up his finger before I can object. "I know that you don't want to merge, but right now, if we want to fend off Barlowe, we need someone just as big on our side."

I lean back against the cushion, regarding him with a frown. "Okay. Say we do that. Who would we consider?"

"That's what I was a little stuck on. DTech is a bit unique. There really isn't a company similar," He pauses. "But I realized, it doesn't have to be. A company who's got a technological background in some way, but also shares your ideals will work right?"

He doesn't even wait for me to respond, shifting in excitement as he continues on. "So I've been looking through DTech's books, trying to figure out a client company who's a big enough size that you've got good relations with. I found quite a few, and checked out their backgrounds. I ended up with four possible options."

He stops to breathe and I laugh, waiting for him to go on.

"But after today, I think I've narrowed it down to our first choice."

"And who would that be?"

"Vivid Enterprises."

//

I'll update again tomorrow! ILY guys <3