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there's nothing like doing nothing with you

Summary:

He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t grow soft at Sapnap cuddling into his chest in the morning, whining for five more minutes and grumbling when he’s denied. Giggles when he feels a broad chest press against his back on a warm afternoon, wheezing laughter tickling at his neck as he bats Dream’s hands away from trying to steal a bit of lunch too early.

And he especially loves it when they drag him to the couch in the evening, falling into a messy pile when they can’t be bothered to maneuver themselves into something more practical.

Notes:

brainrot? brainrot. title is lyrics from nothing by bruno major. dunno how to describe how george feels with touching, it’s just how i am. there’s a select few people i allow and even then it gets a little much sometimes. idk just read it it’s fluff

also hi my few regulars i’m so so sorry this isn’t skephalo, i’m just in a bit of a rut (as you could probably tell from the 3 fucking months i’ve been gone), i’ll be back after this woo! and no asking why this is longer than my skephalo fics shhhhh <3

enjoy!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

George loves his boyfriends. He really, truly does. It’s just…

They’re clingy.

Not that he’s complaining all that much. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t grow soft at Sapnap cuddling into his chest in the morning, whining for five more minutes and grumbling when he’s denied. Giggles when he feels a broad chest press against his back on a warm afternoon, wheezing laughter tickling at his neck as he bats Dream’s hands away from trying to steal a bit of lunch too early.

And he especially loves it when they drag him to the couch in the evening, falling into a messy pile when they can’t be bothered to maneuver themselves into something more practical.

That’s where he is now, upper half messily propped up on Dream’s thighs, his own legs curled into his chest. Sapnap’s hands are running through his hair from where he’s leaning against Dream’s side, and he couldn’t be happier. Dream’s asleep, because of course he is , and the hands running through his hair slow to a stop to start poking at Dream’s arm.

“Hm?” Dream’s drowsy, dragging a palm down the side of his face.

Sapnap snickers. “It’s time for bed, dude. You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Sap, my very handsome boyfriend who would never insult me. Real ego boost there.” Despite his words, his eyes are scrunched up in affection and George even finds himself smiling at their banter.

“You know I love you. C’mon.”

Sapnap drags Dream off the couch, assuming that George would follow. The two of them are just about to enter the hallway when Sapnap notices George still sat on the couch, unmoving.

Here’s the thing. Dream and Sapnap are so unbelievably different from him. Dream is exactly how you’d expect him to be- cocky, confident, total extrovert. His love language, though they’ve never talked about it directly, is touch. Affection. Whatever it’s called. George doesn’t really know.

Point in case being that he’s happiest and most energized when Sapnap ruffles his hair as he passes by him in the kitchen, or when he can curl further into George during a horror movie that, quite unsurprisingly, neither of them can handle. He just loves touching them, being with them.

Sapnap, total introvert and not as loud of a presence as he would like you to believe, still loves touch. In his own words, “cuddles are my jam , dude.” He loves laying between the two of them when he can to soak up as much love as possible, still gripping hands and petting hair when he can’t.

George, though… he likes his alone time. He craves it. Since he’s moved in with his Dream and Sapnap, though, the only alone time he gets is when he’s editing or using the restroom. Neither of those are particularly relaxing, and more times than not they’ll come hang with him as he’s working. That leaves the toilet, and even then, it’s not uncommon for one of them to saunter in and casually strike up a conversation or brush their teeth.

He got a little carried away thinking there. He likes his alone time, and he seldom gets it.

Dream, noticeably more awake now, catches on quickly. He strides across the living room in just a few steps, damn him, and gives a quick peck on his forehead.

“Alone tonight?”

George nods, throat tightening. They seemed so happy tonight, he’s not ruining anything, is he? He hasn’t had a night like this in a while, becoming too worried about what they’d think. He may be thinking a bit too highly of himself, but what if they get too sad without him there? He doesn’t want to let them down, doesn’t want to mess things up, but he really can’t go one more night without having even a minute alone.

“Hey.” A hand runs through his hair, stopping at the nape of his neck and rubbing circles into the skin there. The pressure’s a bit too harsh to be comfortable, but it keeps him grounded and that's all he needs. “Stop thinking so loud. Whatever you need to do, you do. We love you and we’ll be here in the morning, okay?”

“Okay.” He’s quiet, staring at the floor.

“What was that, sweetheart? I couldn’t hear you.” If it weren’t for the hand still rubbing circles into his neck he’d think he was being patronizing. George still lifts his head up to glare at him, though, lips curling in an attempt to prevent a smile when Dream grins down at him, smug.

“Okay.” George repeats, louder. He sighs, relaxing, watching Dream’s hand pull away. “Thank you.”

Dream seems satisfied this time, leaning down for one more kiss on his forehead. He returns to Sapnap, the latter simply giving him a sleepy wave and blowing a kiss before they disappear into Dream’s room. He can hear an exasperated sigh with a “C’mon, Pandas,” from Dream before the door clicks softly behind them.

Finally, George is alone.

Again, he doesn’t hate his boyfriends. They’re his boyfriends for a reason, and a good one at that.

But sometimes every touch feels a little too encompassing, like he’s burning. On a good day, his skin tingles when Dream hugs him, warm and tickling and causing him to lean further into the hold. On the worst days, even a small nose tap from Sapnap can feel like needles poking him, over and over and over, not stopping until hours after Sapnap’s touched him.

He hasn’t been there for a long time, and he’s certainly not there tonight. Tonight, their energy, along with all the touching, just got to be a bit too much. He wants to be alone, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

He tredges to the kitchen and grabs one of their stupid reindeer glass cups that they still have out despite it being the middle of the year. When he pulls away from the counter after his glass finishes filling with water, he notices he chose Blitzen.

Sapnap’s favorite. A smile crosses his lips as he lifts it up to take a sip.

He crashes back into the couch and turns the TV volume down a few ticks- he can be considerate- continuing to watch the movie that Dream had put on. George is the only one who ever really watches them, especially if it’s a night where he’s not really feeling the cuddling, the other two preoccupied with other things.

The movie is, if anything, background noise to George now as he sips at his water. He lets his eyes wander around the room, smile stretching across his face as they land on the edge of the couch. He’d been perched there the first time he told Dream and Sapnap that he wanted a night alone. Sapnap had taken it pretty well, eyes filled with understanding, but Dream… 

“Wait, George.” Dream says, eyes wide and concerned. “This isn’t, like, a jacking off thing, is it? I know you’re shy and don’t like to ask for sex but you don’t have to go to these lengths.”

George chokes, nearly falling off the armrest. “What? No! I just want a night to myself. I love you guys, I’m not mad about anything, and it’s not to, err, get off. I just need a little alone time, okay?” 

He keeps eye contact with Dream, stern, until his concerned expression becomes one of support.

He still looks hesitant, though. “I mean.. okay. If you say so. Can we wake you up, or should we wait, or-”

George cuts him off, snorting. “You can wake me up, Dream. It’s alright.”

He walks with them to Dream’s room, eyeing his own door just across from it.

“Okay. I guess we’ll just, uh, go?”

“Yes, Dream. Go.”

“Can I kiss you?”

George rolls his eyes. “Stop acting like I’m untouchable or something. Yes, you can kiss me.”

Sapnap starts to giggle when Dream leans in, his lips just barely brushing the corner of his mouth.

George raises an eyebrow. “What’s so funny, Sap?”

He covers his mouth a bit. “Untouchable. Gogy has the cheese touch!”

It takes Dream a second before he wheezes, head coming to rest on Sapnap’s shoulder for support, and George shoves the chuckling pair further into the bedroom.

“Crap joke, Sap.”

Their laughter rises in volume at the rhyme, as he expected it to, and his chest feels warm watching them. They’re leaning against themselves and the doorway, a snort or particularly loud wheeze sending them back into giggles, and George knows they’ll be like this for quite a while.

He sends them a smile as he backs into his own room.

The movie ends and George sits up as he blinks away his sleepiness, realizing with a bit of regret that he missed the ending, too tired and in his own head to really pay attention to it. He lifts the remote with a heavy arm to shut it off, tossing it to the couch nearly immediately after to grab his phone and squint at the time.

23:17. He smiles, remembering the protests from his boyfriends when they found he still used a 24-hour clock. If he’s being honest, he understands 12-hour time just as well as he does 24-hour, but it’s always worth it to hear Dream groan or have Sapnap think for an extra second or two when he tells them the time.

Ah, he really should be getting to bed now.

Hoisting himself off the couch, he decides to leave his cup on the living room table, despite the kitchen being not too far away. He’s far too tired to imagine walking the few extra steps, and the twinge of guilt that he so often feels isn’t there today.

Is it lazy and a definite way to get Dream mad at him tomorrow? Yes.

Is it appealing in the moment? Oh, absolutely.

So he leaves it, already giggling at what Dream may do or say, hurrying to his room. He hadn’t realized it, but his eyes were indeed heavy and he was looking forward to burrowing under his covers and just going to sleep.

He makes sure to grab his phone and whoever’s pair of earbuds were tangled on the floor just under the TV, working on untangling them on the way to his room. They don’t really have their own pairs anymore, just opting to grab whichever is closest. In Sapnap’s case, that sometimes means directly yanking them from Dream when he’s using them. 

When asked why he never does that to George, he mumbled something about pretty privilege and left the room.

George is careful to not wake his boyfriends from where they’re sleeping just across the hall, opening his door carefully, turning the handle before even beginning to push it forward. It doesn’t creak when he swings it open tonight and George breathes a sigh of relief. Rationally, he knows it wouldn’t have woken either of them up, but he wouldn’t have been able to sleep without worrying if he did end up disrupting their sleep. When the door’s open, and stays open, he retreats to his bed without closing it.

They have an agreement, made when it became clear that these nights weren’t going away anytime soon. It’s just not practical to ask George what he wants every time he needs time to himself, so an open door means they’re free to come in whenever. A closed door means he’s not quite ready yet, still a little exhausted, and they let him have his space and come out to talk on his own time.

George pulls the covers out from where they’re tucked into his bed, groaning at the lack of a top sheet. Dream always forgets. He collapses into bed, resting his phone next to him, plugging in his earbuds and pulling the comforter up, up, up until it nearly covers his head.

He scrolls for what Sapnap has deemed his “soft” playlist (it just helps him relax, but whatever) and lets the gentle piano and cool air of his room lull him to sleep.

-

George is awoken with incessant tapping to his shoulder.

Bleary eyes blink open and are met with Sapnap slouching cross-legged at the edge of the bed, coffee mug being lifted up to his lips. A smile crosses his face when he notices George is awake.

To his right lies Dream, the offender. He’s propped up on his side, one hand supporting his head and one still tapping away at his shoulder. A coffee mug balances precariously on the mattress, only cradled by his legs, and George eyes it warily.

He knocks Dream’s hand away, groggily rubbing at his eyes. “I’m awake, idiot. Pick up your mug before you spill coffee all over yourself and my bed.”

Dream grins. “As you wish, Georgie.”

He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, and, oh-

A tray is sitting on his bedside table, filled with breakfast. That’s stange. George does most of the cooking.

He whips his head back around to stare at them with an unspoken question.

Dream has grabbed his mug, as requested, and shuffles upright to rub a hand against the back of his neck. “Uh, I woke up early, and because Sap didn’t want to be alone in bed, the big baby, he got up too. We didn’t have anything to do, so… I cooked. Or, tried to.“

George narrows his eyes at Sapnap, a teasing smile crossing his lips. “Aww, you missed me, huh? No one to cuddle with?”

Sapnap purses his lips and looks away, face growing warm when George giggles at him. A hand runs up his thigh to rub soothingly at his hip and all is forgiven.

George turns his attention back to the tray, carefully bringing it to his lap. It’s not perfect, far from it. The toast is okay, thank fuck he can do that, but the bacon got a little too crispy and what looks to be an omelette is more like a lump of overcooked eggs.

It seems Dream already knows what he’s thinking, and George speaks up before he can say anything.

“So, uh, how’d you make the eggs a sphere?”

Sapnap falls over laughing, head hanging off the bed and feet kicking out in glee.

Dream groans, embarrassed, throwing his hands up. “I don’t know! I folded it once and it didn’t really look right, so I folded it again, and it ended up like that. I can guarantee they’re not cooked right.”

He looks genuinely distraught, so George lets up on his teasing. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m thankful that you tried, at least. I’m just curious why you didn’t bake something?”

Dream’s the baker of them, something George has never been great at. Where one is lacking in skills, the other is talented, and it makes their cooking arrangement easy. Sapnap, well… they leave him to handle orders on the rare days they do eat out, and pick up on the even rarer days when they don’t get it delivered.

Dream’s face twists into confusion. “There’s nothing I can bake for breakfast, though. Since Sap can’t even microwave stuff properly, I tried my best.”

Sapnap’s head lifts up. “Hey! I resent that.”

George ignores him.

“There’s a bunch of stuff!” When Dream eyes him skeptically, he continues. “Bagels, donuts, muffins, ooh, I could argue that banana bread can be breakfast too... um... anything with cinna-”

He stops when Dream groans, dropping his head to his hands. “Shit! You’re so right.”

George hurries to take a bite of the toast. “It’s okay, though! The toast is good, and I’m sure the bacon is at least safe to eat.”

The toast isn’t good, actually, he left it completely plain and the bottom is completely burnt, but he doesn’t tell him that. Actually, he has a sneaking suspicion that Sapnap was in charge of the toast, but he still stays silent. Before George can take another bite, however, Dream is yelling and bolting out of the bed.

“Wait! No! I can do muffins! Give me 30 minutes, maybe a few more.” He holds his hand out for the tray, rushing out as soon as it’s in his hand and nearly hitting his head on the doorway in his eagerness.

“Bad would be proud!” Sapnap yells after him.

“Oh, shut up, Pandas! You did the toast!”

Sapnap looks at George, guilt filling his features, and he sighs, unsurprised, opening his arms so Sapnap can fall into his chest.

George pulls his phone from where Dream, he assumes, had set it on the bedside table. The playlist from last night is still pulled up, and he holds an earbud out to Sapnap wordlessly.

He takes it, gently twisting it into his ear, and George presses play. Sapnap sighs contentedly at the soft tune, leaning up to press kisses anywhere and everywhere across George’s face. He returns them, not without a few giggles escaping, and when Sapnap kisses back again George takes the high road and stops. He refuses to have another kissing competition. Not right now.

Or, okay, maybe he’s just afraid of losing.

The kisses slow, but George brings his hands up to run them through Sapnap’s hair like he’d done for him just the night before. He falls into a bit of a sleepy haze, and he’s pretty sure Sapnap’s drooling on his shirt, but he’s happy to be here with him, to coexist in their own little world. Loving and warm and together in a bubble that only Dream and the faint smell of blueberries slowly wafting through their home can break.

He’s just drifting back to sleep when he hears Dream yell about the cup he’d left in the living room, and he lets Sapnap’s snickering against his chest quell the worries he’d had about Dream being genuinely mad.

It’s only when the smell gets stronger that George wakes up a bit, gently scratching his hands down Sapnap’s neck so he wakes up too. Dream’s carrying a plate of three fresh blueberry muffins, golden brown tops puffing out of their wrappers.

Sapnap’s eyes bulge as he peels himself away from George, scratching at his stomach. “Holy shit, dude.”

George smiles. “You need to send a picture of those to Bad.”

Dream laughs, setting the plate on the bed and settling on the floor beside it. “Already did. He said Skeppy started whining for Bad to make them as soon as he saw the picture.”

George snorts, reaching for a muffin and motioning for his boyfriends to do the same. He peels the wrapper away a bit, just staring in appreciation for a bit. Shit, he’s so lucky. He brings it up to take a bite just as Sapnap does, aware of the nervous tension Dream is practically radiating.

And, yeah, it’s fucking good, fruity and buttery and everything George has ever wanted.

“Is it good?” Dream’s eyes are darting back and forth between them, but George doesn’t have the energy to fuck with him today. Neither does Sapnap, apparently, because he’s speaking and reaching over to ruffle his hair before George can say anything.

“Of course it is, Dreamie. Everything you make is fucking awesome.”

When Dream looks up at George, he just nods in agreement and takes another bite. 

Sapnap leans down to give Dream a kiss, just a quick one, but with Dream’s flush from the praise and the softness Sapnap holds in his expression, all George can think about is how much he loves them.

So when they drag him into Dream’s room after they’ve finished eating, because, “It’s the weekend, George, let’s be lazy,” he can’t find it in himself to refuse. In fact, when they pull him in the middle, into rumpled and warm bed sheets, into a bed where the sun is shining perfect, bright rays on it, he moves with them. And when Dream’s hand rests on the exposed strip of his hip where his pants are riding low and Sapnap buries his head into George’s shoulder, hair tickling his cheek, he savors it and finds he wants to stay here forever.

George loves his alone time, but he loves his boyfriends more.

Notes:

thankies for reading bye