Chapter Text
"Come on, dude, we've been here for hours."
"Just one more," Sapnap knocked back a glass, taking a moment to process the alcohol content.
His friend rolled his eyes, shoving him, "It is literally 2:00 in the morning. I swear--"
"One game," he cut him off, knowing his best friend couldn't resist a challenge, "If you win, we'll go home, no questions asked."
He saw the softest twinkle in Dream's green eyes, the spark of competitiveness shining more brightly than the lamps above the bar. Sapnap reached over to grab the nearest house cues, handing the other one to Dream. The wooden pool stick was curved and warped beyond repair, but it was all they had for the moment.
They had been playing at Doyle's Corner for two years now. Dream had been playing pool since he was a kid, learning from his dad. Sapnap just happened to be the annoying kid next door. They became best friends after a rogue incident involving a baseball, his dog, and three neighborhood cats. Going to college in New York as roommates was one of the best decisions the two of them ever made (besides pranking the middle school bullies that lived a few blocks down the road).
Sapnap turned back around, realizing that Dream had already racked the balls for their next game. They were set up in a pattern: stripes, solids, stripes, solids.
"You break, you've always been better at it than I have." Dream said, shrugging as he put away the triangle and chalked up his stick.
He grinned in response, getting down on the shot. The cue ball hit the set triangle with a satisfying CLICK. He managed to knock a few into the pockets. Dream shook his head with a soft laugh, brushing back his blond hair as he stood up straighter.
"You know I'm better at breaking than you are," he teased, preparing for his next shot.
"Shut the fuck up and hit the ball."
The game continued for longer than expected. The one game soon turned into two. Then three. Then seven. At this point, Sapnap had taken one shot too many, and Dream had more than he usually did. They were so absorbed by the pool table that Sapnap barely noticed a new figure entering the pub.
He turned, somewhat intrigued by whoever could be up at 4:30 in the morning in New York. The man looked just as tall as he was, with a lanky build and a pool stick case thrown over his shoulder. As dream took his next few shots, Sapnap sipped his beer, staring at the newcomer. Dark hair, pale face. And an odd air of poshness. He watched him set up his own pool stick, rack the balls, and take a break shot, all with the calmest composure of anyone he had seen in a bar.
He nudged Dream softly as he regained composure, "Hey, check out that guy. He's probably better than you."
"No way, I've been playing since I was in diapers." His friend muttered back, glaring at the young man.
He shrugged, putting down the can, "I dunno, look at him." Sapnap glanced up, shifting his position in the chair as he watched Dream continuously run a hand through his hair, "He looks very...professional."
Despite the fact that there were only the three of them in the bar (besides the bartender), the other pool player didn't even bother to look over at the pair. They paused their game to study him, half out of curiosity, half out of boredom. Sapnap finished his drink, slamming the can back down on the nearest table. He stood from his seat, clutching his house cue. Sapnap made his way over to the other pool table across the bar, stumbling every few seconds. He could almost feel Dream's piercing glares burning holes into the back of his head.
Now that he was closer, he could get a better look at the stranger's face. Brown eyes. Dark, flat hair, barely swept to one side. Pointed face with barely a wisp of a beard. However, he was correct about the height; he looked as tall as he was.
The young man must have noticed Sapnap walking towards him, because he looked up after making the 10 ball into the corner pocket, nearly ending whatever game he was playing with himself. He raised a pointed eyebrow, and Sapnap offered a hand.
"Hi," he began plainly.
The stranger's expression changed from confusion to shock, as if he couldn't believe someone had the audacity to speak to him mid-game, "Hello."
Sapnap was caught off guard by the sound of his voice. His accent wasn't a New York one, rather British. He could almost hear Dream's voice shouting in his head. What are you doing?, it said, outraged. He held back a chuckle, knowing it was exactly how he'd react after this next move.
"So, uh, my friend and I saw you playing and figured you might want a more fun opponent." he continued rambling, "You seem like a really good player, and we thought practicing with someone better would be interesting." Sapnap paused, realizing he had never introduced himself, "I'm Nick, by the way."
"George," the young man finally shook the hand he extended.
He quickly glanced over his shoulder to see Dream's expression. Pale with a beet-red blush quickly spreading across his cheeks. He turned back to George with a smile.
"So... whadaya you say?"
He watched George glance over his shoulder at Dream, who now appeared to be taking a few more shots to hide his embarrassment. Sapnap could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he calculated whether or not to play pool with two random strangers in a bar. He winced at himself, only now realizing how awkward this situation was.
From the uncomfortable silence, a somewhat exasperated and intrigued response came, "Sure, why not?"
_______
"Oh, you missed! You missed!"
"Shut up! You gave me a bad angle!"
Sapnap laughed, staring at them as they played a game of 8 ball. It was their fourth game of the night, due to Dream's stubbornness and refusal to lose. George was suffering the consequences of the terrible positioning of his last shot, leaving him trapped between a stripe and the 8 ball itself. Rather than banking the 6 off the side, he managed to knock the 11 into the corner pocket, giving Dream ball in hand.
He took a sip of his third can of beer, feeling the condensation forming on the metal drip down his hand. He was taking a break from playing with the two of them, tired of continuously losing cutthroat billiards and tired of watching them argue over whether a shot was legal or not.
Sapnap found himself staring at his best friend. Having known him for years, he could tell when something changed about him. Dream was so easy to read, like an open book. The bar lights made it difficult to see, but he was quite certain that a blush was spreading over his face. He kept running a hand through his hair, knowing that he only did that when he was nervous or embarrassed. And the third thing: his posture. Rather than being slightly slouched, Dream stood taller, rubbing the back of his neck every few seconds. The rather crazed smile he wore gave a little more information than he needed to find out the truth.
Sapnap held back a giggle. He stood up, clasping a hand on Dream's shoulder. He and George continued to argue.
"NO, that was definitely a good break!" Dream protested, gripping his pool stick.
George's eyes grew wide, "The 3 ball is barely past the line! You can't possibly call that legal!"
Sapnap could tell they weren't really mad about the game. The smiles George kept trying to conceal told him everything. He wanted an excuse to talk to him. They both wanted an excuse to talk. He shook his head, chuckling.
"Come on, Dream. It's so late."
"Dream?" He turned to George, who raised an eyebrow, "Isn't your name Clay?"
And suddenly, he couldn't hold it back anymore. The laughter poured from him as he clutched his stomach. He could almost hear Dream's eyes roll as tears of joys poured from his.
"It's just a stupid nickname," he heard him mutter, "From when we were teenagers."
"Oh? And what's the story behind it?" George asked, as they cleaned up.
Sapnap finally regained his composure, "Oh my god, you wouldn't believe it, this guy—"
"I'm telling this story, if you don't mind."
"You always tell it wrong," he sang, continuing, "He was known as everyone's—cough—dream guy. Teachers loved him, straight A's, captain of the swim team, president of several clubs, you know? Everyone called him that behind his back, and it became a huge joke and—"
Dream glared at him, "And the rest is irrelevant."
"Don't cut me off," Sapnap shot him the dirtiest look he could muster, "I think they even got it on his letterman jacket. Anyway, everyone forgot about it after, like, two years, but the nickname stuck for me."
"Okay, that's not what happened."
"You wanna mention how people started moaning it down the hallways?"
"NO! Well you just did. Sapnap, I swear—"
Everything he had said was true. Dream was the popular kid in high school. Sapnap knew. He grew up with him. Dream had basically taken him in. He had fonder memories of them at his house rather than his own.
Yet he never really resented him for it. He may have joked about it a couple of times, but he never really meant it. He knew that the spotlight wasn't always for him, but seeing his best friend shine made him happy. Being with other people had made him so happy. Leaving nice notes in his friends' lockers between classes or helping the freshmen and the sophomores study for the harder classes made him happy. Chatting with teachers about how their days went made him happy.
Sapnap would tease him that he cared more about everyone else, but he knew that his friend didn't think he didn't deserve what he had. He knew that when Dream interacted with other people, he would realize that he deserved all the good things in life. And he would smile the most genuine smile and laugh before moving on to do the next good thing in the world.
The smile on his face was something he hadn't seen since high school.
The smile he wore right now, standing across a pool table from someone they had met a few hours ago, arguing about shots and plays, was it.