A/N: Someone requested a chapter featuring Drista so here you go :>

George sat on the couch, bored and scrolling on his phone. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, and he sat up.

"You said... Drista is visiting today, right?" He asked.

"Yeah. She's coming over in," Dream glanced at his watch, "two hours."

"Oh." George was silent for a moment. "What's her real name?"

"Drista." Dream replied without a moment of hesitation.

"Like, her real real name."

"Drista."

George facepalmed. "So, I'm guessing she insisted for you to tell me to call her Drista?"

"Her name is Drista, what are you talking about?" Dream put down his phone, looking at George as though he was crazy or making stuff up.

George frowned at Dream. Am I missing something?

He decided to let the matter go, not wanting to argue with Dream about something as silly as that, but the question still lingered at the back of his mind. After two hours, Drista arrived, as Dream told him, and George resolved to ask her personally, when Dream wasn't around.

Drista swaggered in with her usual confident personality, and plopped onto their couch as though she had just arrived at her own home, without waiting for a welcome.

"Hello, Dream." Drista yawned. "Nice couch. Could be better."

"What do you mean, you've been here at least twice." Dream looked at Drista oddly.

Drista shrugged casually. "Can't take a compliment?" She didn't wait for Dream to answer. "That's fine. Your couch absolutely sucks, and I want to just leave, it's that bad."

She stood up, and George laughed. "Nice one."

Dream whined at George. "You're supposed to be on my side, George."

In response, George stuck his tongue out at Dream. Drista made a face.

"Ew, look at you two lovebirds. There's a child in sight."

"So you finally admit you're a child?" Dream raised an eyebrow at Drista, who had sprawled back on the couch again.

"What? You're a child? Got it, I'll tell Mom and I'm taking over the house. Give me a moment." She replied, standing up and beginning to walk towards the door. Dream walked over to intercept her, blocking the door, to which Drista rolled her eyes and flopped back onto the couch.

George shook his head, chuckling. "I think I like this sibling better."

Dream pouted, making his way over to George, and giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek, grabbing his arm.

"I thought you loved me."

Drista rolled her eyes, folding her arms and turning away. "PDA!" She shouted behind her back before walking into the kitchen. "I'm going to go get some food, Mom'll be coming soon."

"Figures, I didn't think that she would be able to get here on her own. She's 14 or something, right?" George commented.

"Yeah. I'm gonna go greet my mom. I'll be right back; don't burn down the house or trigger Drista to. You never know what she'll do." Dream planted one last kiss on George's cheek and left.

"That's true." George chuckled. He turned to the kitchen, realizing that he now had a chance to talk to Drista in private. He stuck his head through the door, watching Drista rummage through the cabinets.

"What's up?" Drista said without looking at George.

"Nothing much. I just wanted to ask, what's your real name?"

"Drista." She replied, taking out the box of Pop-Tarts Dream had hidden away.

"What's your actual name?" George insisted. "Also, you might not want to eat those. Last time I tried, Dream tackled me and swore not to give me kisses for the next week. He gave in though, I'm too irresistible."

Drista rolled her eyes, closing the cabinet door. "If he tries to tackle me, I'll knee him in the balls or get out the iron door, and I would absolutely not care if he didn't give me kisses. In fact, I'd not eat the Pop-Tarts for him to not give me kisses. Anyways, my actual real name is Drista." She responded, opening a bag and stuffing one in her mouth after finishing her rant.

George frowned at Drista. "Okay?" He turned around when he heard the door opening, and Drista quickly dropped the wrapper she was holding, shoving it into George's arms and sprinting off through the other door.

"You-"

Dream walked into the kitchen, his mother following behind him, and when his gaze landed on George, he raised his eyebrows.

"George. What did I say about eating the Pop-Tarts?"

"Drista! She ate one, and then when she heard you coming she just shoved the box into my arms!"

"Sure she did." Dream said, smirking. Dream's mother rolled her eyes from behind him.

"He used to bug me to buy them all the time when he was little. I have no idea how he developed such an obsession, but I'm taking him to rehab as soon as I can." She commented. From behind Dream's mother, Drista strolled in casually, as though she had been there the entire time.

"George." Dream recaptured his attention. "What did I say about eating the Pop-Tarts?"

"Well, last time I did, you tackled me and claimed you wouldn't kiss me for a week. You failed, though." George answered, setting the box down onto the table.

"So, surely this time the punishment ought to be worse, then." Dream continued, completely ignoring the last sentence.

"Uh huh." George cocked an eyebrow. "A worse punishment that you'll surely fail as well."

"Kinky." Drista cut in, and Dream's mother rolled her eyes, which snapped George back to his senses, remembering that Dream's mother was watching them.

"We can talk about this later, George. But don't expect to get off the hook."

"Are you the submissive?" Drista asked casually, and Dream's mother choked, coughing as her cheeks flamed pink, which was nothing compared to the beet-red shade that George's face turned.

"No." George answered indignantly.

"Sure."

After an hour of the four of them conversing, which mainly consisted of Dream's mother insisting that Dream to stay safe and healthy and prying into his daily habits (including his sex life), Drista jumping in with some off-the-cuff remarks, and both siblings teasing George, Dream and George waved Drista and Dream's mother off. Dream shut the door behind them, and turned to George.

"So about that punishment."