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The quaint, tune of a bell interrupts the calm assortment of silence, knocked by an open door letting outside light flood into the shadows of the recently-opened building. It’s quiet until the panted rush of a short boy pushes through the pink door and smiles into the room with a lovely smile anyone would fall for.
It smells like cinnamon sugar, hazel buns and soft rounds of bread coated with buttered powder.
The other average-heighted brunette that's behind the counter, perks up at the ding, scanning the appearance of a shorter, out of breath coworker. Beneath his hands lie an opened magazine, labeled with rows of just-in clothing for men.
Sapnap sighs when the smaller smiles at him.
“Where’ve you been, cutie?” he greets, a smirk playing at his lips when the shorter breathes in and out of his nose rhythmically, an attempt to catch his breath. He doesn’t fail to catch the short spread of pink across his cheeks from the nickname. It’s not unusual, he just hadn’t grown used to his friend’s heavy usage of pet names.
“Lost my keys and it took me 15 minutes to find them,” he replies with an underlying tone of exhaustion and annoyance. Sapnap pushes it further, a familiar routine of banter he’s used to.
“You’re a dumbass,” Sapnap teases, drawing his lips to a tight smile instead of a wide smirk, looking back down at his magazine to close it.
George huffs, “You’re a lazy bum”
“There’s no one here?”
“You haven’t put any pastries out yet.”
“I was waiting for you,”
George hums knowingly, heading toward the tables that chairs are neatly stacked on top of, a routine they have of stacking them right before they close.
“You’ve worked here long enough to know where things are.”
“I was waiting for you," Sapnap repeats knowingly, toying with the boy’s heart whether he knows it or not.
George rolls his eyes, a redder blush spreading across his face not-so-subtly, “Well get to work, I’m here now”
Sapnap laughs out loud, closing his magazine shut and going to the back, getting some pastries out and beginning to organize them on the shelves below. He gives George giddy smiles every now and then as the brit starts putting down the chairs, preparing to open the shop. Sapnap catches on when George mumbles, “When there’s nowhere to sit, how do you expect people to come in here?”
Sapnap chuckles as he finishes setting up the organized assortment of donuts, perfectly cut lemon squares and cupcakes, stretching his arms when he finishes making it look appealing and pretty for whoever decides to come in first. George finishes putting down the chairs and straightening the tables, turning around to lay back against a planted table he cleaned the other night while closing.
Sapnap observes his tired appearance, dressed in a wrinkly shirt he must’ve pulled out of the laundry last minute, his hair is ruffled- hair sticking out in many directions like he just got out of bed, but his eyes were baggy, dark circles greyed on his skin. It pinches Sapnap’s heart, the worn out look definitely not suiting him. But the sun cast from a curtained window on the door, stained his pale skin with sunlight making him seem glorious despite his fatigue.
While Sapnap’s arms are stretched out wide, he gestures for George to come over, yawning with plump cheeks and a cheesy smirk plastered on his face. The shorter brunette rolls his eyes from across the room, hastily coming around the corner of the front counter to meet the slightly taller American. George wraps his arms around Sapnap’s waist, both of them easing into the hug that’s warm and powdered sweet, softening into the touch with relief and comfort.
George sighs against his shoulder and smiles into the skin of his neck, letting the engulfment of his arms lull him into a calm zone of silence. All his troubles wash away standing in his arms like this, the outside not becoming apparent to them. It’s a sweet and loving embrace, filled with reassurance and a medicine for disappointment. The shorter lets himself inhale the warm smell of Sapnap, comforting and perfect. He could stay like this forever.
However, Sapnap pulls away. Not far away though, as he brings his hands up to George’s cheeks, thumbing at the pink skin like it was cake batter pliant under the pads of his fingers. He stretches his thumbs to the brit’s mouth, touching the corners of it while George stands there idly, hands relaxed on Sapnap’s waist, leaning into the soft touch that’s gentle on his face.
“You should smile more Georgie,” he mutters, voice heavy with a calmness George so easily brings when they are close. Pulled into a state of daze, breathing in the same soft air and peppermint breath, he observes how George looks so sweet leant on his chest, round eyes shiny and colorful, baked a honeyed brown color that perfectly shines compared to his pupils.
Complying, George grins as wide as he can, pearly whites showing to the point where it almost looks creepy. His eyes flutter shut to the wideness of his smile, dimples rising from the pits of his cheeks that remind him of the bubbles rising in pancakes when they are baked near completion.
“Idiot,” Sapnap giggles, resting their foreheads together and kissing the boy’s nose as a nimble gesture, lured into the softness of the skin on his. George cutely tilts his chin upwards, brushing their lips together to indicate a kiss, noses brushing in the process that sends a tickle down Sapnap’s spine.
Before their lips can curve into a designated kiss, the bell at the front rings again and they snap out of the daze, ripping out of each other’s arms to the ringing of a tune they both understand the reasoning for. A cheery woman walks in and Sapnap laughs nervously, immediately going to take their order. Almost pausing George in his tracks, the taller leaves a squeeze on his elbow, such a gesture that earns him a secret smile, a silent apology, but a meaningful message that means later.
Although they work together for most of the day, opening the shop in the same hour, and ending their shift the same minute, they still didn’t see much of each other.
George worked the kitchens, baking and making delicious sweets to store in the front, while Sapnap took orders and made tea and coffee. It was a small business, but enough to lure customers pretty frequently that kept their hands full.
They were grateful for it, George started the business and Sapnap applied, easily fit for the job because he was a good first janitor, and definitely not because of his kind smile and charming looks (George assured) .
Months went on, and more people were hired. But just because they were making money together and getting good life skills out of it, doesn’t mean George was happy with being so busy all the time. He was greeted with a flashy smile every morning and comforting cuddles, until they’re ripped away from it so quickly- always giving George what he wants until he has to deal with losing it for hours on end.
So that’s why they were here, making out in the janitor’s closet during their first break of the afternoon.
They feel the shelves shudder lightly behind George’s back, Sapnap pressed against his body, head tipped forward as he nibbles at the shorter’s neck, a smirk edged into the skin with precise movements. He kisses the spots he marks, running his arms along George’s sides as they rock in gentle pleasure.
“Sapnap!” George gasps, arching his back so it doesn’t cause the shelf to shake more, giggling when the brunette doesn’t let up, biting into another spot on his throat he’s recognized by now.
“Hm?” he mumbles into the vibrations of his pale neck, lapping over the spot with his tongue teasingly. George’s breath hitches at the feeling of the wet tongue plastering into the purple, now-faded skin, body automatically moving forward into the burning, but awfully addicting touch.
“Gotta be careful,” he whispers in audible pleasure, sighing quietly as he perches himself straighter by placing his hands on the other’s shoulders. The tiny height difference definitely helps a lot, but not enough to keep him balanced without needing to latch onto him, lower half coming full force with him as they both breathe in the touch.
They laugh breathlessly as Sapnap holds him more securely, continuing to nip at the marks just to make sure they’re visible, not too dark to be completely obvious of their doings, but enough for it to be clear that George is taken. Even without their label, he wanted it to be known that George couldn’t have anyone else.
Sapnap carefully kisses his way up to his jaw, finally meeting their lips again, candied mouths pressing deeper lustfully. He even goes to knead at George’s ass with the reach he has, listening to the pure sound of a squeak escape from the other’s mouth. He gasps and laughs when Sapnap smiles deviously at him with adoring eyes. And they’re back kissing again, tongues drinking in the sweetness of their gums and savoring the groans they release.
They both taste of stolen sweets, reminisces of lemon and chocolate dotting their teeth but it was easier licking it off each other with desperation speaking I miss you . George leans forward, kisses at his lips saying you are so amazing. Sapnap thinks back with the same intensity, you make all my days better.
Part of George thinks that if he could have Sapnap, he’d quit this job and go anywhere with him, hand in hand, sugared cheeks touching when they sleep. He knows this is the job that got him Sapnap in the first place, but he wouldn’t mind throwing it away so he could be with the brunette all the time. He almost spoke it, but Sapnap kept kissing messages onto his lips, don’t leave me, and don’t stop kissing me. But most of all, they spoke, I miss you.
George tried with all his heart to kiss the missing away, even though he knew it wasn’t possible. Yet he nipped at his lips and drank their sorrows through tang and savor. The smaller brought his hands up and kneaded at the nape of his hair, whining into the kiss when Sapnap keens with his tongue. It’s all a perfect dance, met with true devour and love that George has never felt more in bliss.
He’s thinking so much about I miss you, and I want you now, that eventually the time feeds into his mind and it breaks his attention from their sloppy kissing.
George breaks their connection, sighing a distraught breath clouded with pleasure, “Needa go back to work soon,” then falling forward against Sapnap’s chest and propping his forehead on the taller’s shoulder, breathing in his cookie scent again. Their lips sting with swollen saliva, glazed of caramel taste and honor.
“I know,” Sapnap massages his hips with a gentle assurance, brushing them upwards to his waist and eventually under his shirt and apron so he can feel the hot skin around his belly, like hot coals digging close to his core, only heating up George further with each press of his palm. “Wanna skip?” he offers, somewhat sarcastically, but he could definitely take yes as an answer.
Unfortunately, George had other plans, scoffing and leaning backwards so their eyes connect.
“No.”
Sapnap pouts with a tease puffing out his bottom lip, rubbing his large hands over the expanse of skin he can touch without moving any higher. They both know they can’t leave because their staff count isn’t the highest in the world, yet his need for George was a drive he hated to deny.
As if it couldn’t feel any worse, George pecks his lips one last time before patting his shoulders (in a way too platonic way for Sapnap’s liking), and pushing him away slowly. Before the taller can protest, George slides his way in front of Sapnap and heads toward the closet entrance, where they pushed against earlier, sinful memories flooding Sapnap’s brain everytime he looks at the door.
As George opens the door, prompting their exit, Sapnap grabs George’s ass one more time, before the brit glares at him, rolls his eyes, and leaves the hot room. Sapnap can’t help but think about what his fellow bakers will have to say about the marks leading up his neck and down his collarbone, drawing a smirk to his lips at the thought.
Lunch rolls around pretty quickly. It only takes the mindless routine of taking orders and cheery smiles to get through the hours, passing lighthearted jokes to each other throughout the day to make up for the missing kisses they’d like to fulfill instead. But that’s why it was so fun to have each other like this, because it was simply domestic but deep and slow love at the same time.
So today, George has Sapnap pulled by the hand when they’re supposed to be eating their lunch together, but instead going to the kitchen for a little fun. There’s no one back there at the moment, giving them the perfect chance to show the scruffy brunette where all the sweets come from.
“I don’t go back here often,” Sap observes, dragging a finger along flour drizzled counters, there’s wax lining along the tables but there’s no one working currently. It's not like he hasn't seen the kitchen before, he was just never too interested in baking for the shop, rather just selling and pulling on a happy face meeting new people.
George doesn’t say anything, only pulling Sapnap further into the room, until they stand in front of a metal counter that's lined with wax but overall blank and flat. The brunette bends over and grabs a covered bowl, placing it on the counter, unraveling the cover. Sapnap watches intently, eyes just catching what's inside, what seems to be a brown buttered substance: cookie dough.
“Cookies for me?” he asks teasingly, walking towards George and looking deeper into the bowl. George, who has gloves on his hands, takes out a reasonable amount of dough and starts rolling it. The taller furrows his eyebrows, until the boy crushes the fold and hands out to Sapnap.
“You try," Sapnap’s face furls when he grabs the dough with hesitant compliance. George smiles kindly over his shoulder as he watches the inexperienced cashier getting a good feel of it on his palms.
When Sapnap catches him looking, he immediately turns his shoulders to block off his vision, smirking in the process, with an obvious plan in mind. He can't see George's reaction, but it makes it all the more mysterious anyway.
A minute later of smoothing out the shape, which is a weird, long amount of time in George's opinion, Sapnap turns around softly holding the dough in his hands like it's the most fragile thing in the world.
When George peeks down at it with granted permission, he immediately scoffs at the sight of a messily shaped heart, rocky on the edges but it makes his heart pound anyway. He can see the effort he put in with horribly smoothed out curves and a few pieces already ready to crumble off, but he’s positive it’s his first time making a cookie, dripping a cute portrayal of Sapnap.
Smiling bashfully, “You are such an idiot,” George says, already turning red, but Sapnap can’t tell if it's in adoration or embarrassment. Yet he admires the way blush fills his cheeks anyways, because his tendency to turn red so quickly was always something Sapnap liked. I mean, he honestly just liked anything George did, so that helped a lot as well.
Sapnap decides to tease anyway.
“You don’t like it.”
George snaps his head towards him with a playful, disbelieving grin. Turning back to the love-induced heart in his hands, staring kindly at it with some horrible attempt to hide the sparkle in his pupils.
“Shut up,” he tries, but it just comes out in a cracked, breathless scoff.
“Oh, you love it.”
George rolls his eyes, and places the cookie off to the side, glancing at it every now and then as he starts taking out more dough and folding it into rounded, flat circles. Sapnap frowns when he expects George to turn around and kiss him or something as a thank you, but really he just works.
“It’s our break, and you’re making cookies now? "
“Getting a head-start,” the brunette mumbles immediately, and from the corner of Sapnap’s eye, he can see a hidden smile stretched on his face. His chest squeezes at the thought of him trying to hide such a smile.
“Kiss me.” Sapnap insists randomly, speaking his desire while placing his hands on George’s waist while he continues folding the smooth dough in his gloved hands. He squeezes lightly and tries to pull backwards, but the brunette resists and shoots him a glare.
“Home.” It’s a one word answer and Sapnap hates it.
“Babbbyyyy,” Sapnap whines, but George doesn't turn around or answer, now going completely silent to focus on the task in his hands.
With an exaggerated groan, Sapnap ultimately gives up and decides to start wandering around the kitchen, dragging his hands along covered counters and scanning his eyes over cookie trays waiting to be set upon the display for all customers to admire and taste. He thinks about how each of these cookies were shaped by a pair of hands, poured with love and focus that could have been George’s, or could have been someone else’s. Either way, his mind drifts off to the way George holds him, hugs him, tugs along his shoulders and pulls at the strands of his hair to pull deeper into a lust-filled kiss, all for him.
He can’t imagine anything getting that attention other than him, it hurts to think about. The fear gets added onto knowing their relationship is in fact, not labeled, so he always contemplates if George ever thinks about looking for someone else.
He has all the space to do what he wants, and even if Sapnap is the one who gets to drive him home everyday from work and take them to his apartment, then drive him home at 2am in the morning, he still thinks deeply.
But something about the way George curls into him at nighttime, or kisses his forehead when Sapnap decides to rest on his lap, he feels the domestic bliss of it all and his worries wash away. He hopes George doesn’t feel worried with him.
He shakes off the thoughts when a tall cabinet stands in front of him, towering over his head with large doors that beckon to be opened. So, with curiosity, he grasps the handles and yanks it open, met with rows of shelves with many, many cake ingredients. He doesn’t remember doing cake at their bakery, but maybe it was something George had yet to add to the menu that Sapnap didn't know about.
Brown scaled eyes latch onto a particular shelf perched in a medium headspace, that is organized with a row of icing cones nicely in a row, of all different colors. Immediately thinking of the worst, he smirks. It was their lunch break, Sapnap wanted more than to make a cookie. He wanted to hold his Georgie and decorate him pretty. So that’s what he was set to do.
Reaching on his tippy toes, Sapnap’s arm extends and grabs a blue colored cone, uncapping the tip and holding it in his hand, feeling the gooey substance squish around when he squeezes it.
He closes the door hastily, turning back to see the brunette still completely focused on placing cookies lined perfectly on the cookie sheet, already two rows in. The taller smiles deviously and begins to walk towards him, humming to himself as he pretends to look around like anything other than George is interesting.
So when he reaches his side again, he bends his elbow up and holds it in his palm again, leaning forward and lining it with the shorter’s cheek. He sees the way George tenses immediately, eyes going wide and hands stilling with nothing in them at the moment.
It’s silent for a moment, Sapnap frozen with his arm in the air, the icing cone hanging dangerously close to George’s cheek. He wants to laugh when George’s eyes direct to the cone, teeth gritting.
It’s all such a silly situation, clouded by hesitance and tension just from the way a candy triangle inches its way closer to the pale skin of a brit.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he whispers, voice teetering with caution and a slowness that he feels will get Sapnap to stop, when he truly knows this won’t end well. Sapnap laughs quietly, adjusting his grip so it’s not straining his arm anymore, but resting in his palm, angled to George’s chin.
Sapnap trains his eyes to the way George's hands slowly lift up in surrender, gloves slightly littered with crumbs of leftover batter.
“Yeah? And how are you gonna stop me George?”
His voice drips venom of situational intent, eyes piercing like a snake ready to pounce, fully ready to take on the small boy eyeing him worriedly. He was never scared of George, and he was mad at him for ditching him in that janitor’s closet, left with faded mulberry marks on his neck that are desperate to be remarked and made prominent. Nothing was stopping Sapnap.
A beat ticks by, George’s eyes stain wide, awaiting Sapnap’s next move.
For some reason, George does nothing to defend himself.
Sapnap likes to think it’s because of the way George’s knees slowly buckle under the pressure, arms weakening and face softening.
The American lifts his hand again back to where it was before, extremely close to George’s cheek, any squeeze destined to stain his skin blue. Maybe he craved it.
When George gulps, that’s when Sapnap touches the unlidded tip to his cheekbone. With a slow drag, he trails the blue, sticky icing on his face, a small imperfect line along the pit of his cheek until it reaches the corner of his gaping mouth. When George closes his mouth and hesitates to smile, he can taste a tiny bit of icing where it sits just on the entrance of his lips.
“Why?” George asks breathlessly, the smile starting to rise when he gets a glimpse of Sapnap looking at him dear.
Keeping his eyes trained on the blue line he made, Sapnap puts the cone down and with his other hand, slowly lifts it up to hover over the line delicately. George stares at the thumb with questionable eyes, so confused but loving every tense second of it.
Suddenly a touch presses into the substance, uncovered thumb digging into the sugared dollop, and smearing it on his cheek, all the way down to his gaping mouth. He makes the effort to rub it along the puckered lip, watching it intently as he pulls it back and watches it snap back gently, eliciting a quiet gasp from George. His lip is now a nice blue, messily smeared with the icing, and it takes a lot for him not to lick it off, sugar resting so close to his tongue.
With a quiet answer, Sapnap smiles. “Just wanted an excuse to kiss you.”
George goes to call him an idiot, give him a movement of endearment but Sapnap stops him by inching forward until finally, their lips are together again. George inhales sharply at the intense feeling after so much buildup, leaning backwards with the force of the kiss and sighing into it.
Sapnap takes it slow, titling his head and drawing his lips in, prodding his tongue into the blue on his lip and licking at it gently, pushing their mouths together in a fierce rhythm. He takes the smaller’s waist into his hands again, feeling the warm skin like he had missed earlier and slotting their bodies together desperately. George groans into his mouth when their groins connect, bringing his arms up and around Sapnap’s shoulders to draw him in from his neck.
They kiss until George’s back is pressed up against the counter behind them, rocking it gently but this time none of them care to suppress the movements of it hitting the wall. Sapnap almost goes to lift him on top of it, but he adores the feeling of George pressing into him to keep his balance as if he’ll fall, even though Sapnap will always be there to catch him.
Sapnap nibbles at his bottom lip, tasting as much sugar as he can, lavishing that sweet prominence on his skin and dragging it on his tongue. George tries to keep up, but ends up failing and allows him to lick into his mouth.
When they break apart, it’s all sighs and quick pants. George’s eyes are half-lidded and lustful, sparkling with attraction he’s had since the moment he met Sapnap. Sapnap hadn’t even touched his hair, but it was messy and hinting towards their activities with sweaty strands and deep loath for purity.
Sapnap inches his nose forward and brushes them together, George fluttering his eyes shut and smiling softly at the contact. Only Sapnap can make such a gesture seem soft after they had just made out.
“You taste so good baby,” Sapnap comments, pecking his still lips that glisten with saliva under the lights of the kitchen. It’s a risky comment, but he knows this. George shivers at the breath he feels on his lips from their close proximity.
“You can’t just say things like that,” George whispers breathless, pressing their foreheads together and rolling his hips to relieve the built up pressure.
The taller smirks at his attempt, backing his hips up so he rolls into nothing. Laughing at the missed contact, he pecks the boy's lips carefully again. George tries to lean in for more but is ultimately granted nothing.
“Why not?” Sapnap pushes on, tilting his head at an angle so George has to open his eyes and observe the movement. He only shudders more. In his head he’s screaming to get out of here, telling himself anymore contact will just get him more worked up and that’s not good to last for the rest of the day.
“We have to work,” he resists, voice packed with a broken sigh because he knows he would rather say anything else.
Sapnap chuckles lowly again, finally pulling their heads apart so it’s easier to breathe, hot breaths cascading into the atmosphere. George almost whimpers when he can smell everything else and not just Sapnap, but he gulps it back with hesitance.
“Now do you want to go home?” Sapnap asks, walking slowly backwards but keeping his hands on the other’s hips tightly. George doesn’t answer for a moment, seriously contemplating his answer this time, when usually he would deny immediately.
But once again, Sapnap is met with rejection.
“No.”
George doesn’t know why he said that. Maybe it was the part of him that is a challenge, taking and running with it because he can’t force himself to give in. Maybe it was the part of him who knows it will be worth all the pent up arousal when they can be alone in the car together, met with as many sweet kisses they want without facing the consequences of work.
Sapnap pouts again, but he doesn’t make it a big deal as he pulls away, giving George the space to shudder and smile like everything’s okay. It would only take Sapnap a quick glance downwards to get the real answer anyway.
They don’t make it a big deal afterwards, Sapnap gets out of the kitchen leaving George with blue on his face kindly, a forever stain of what they did in there, pressed against a counter leaving love marks for each other to last.
The day goes on and George starts to think maybe it would’ve been easier to go home after all.
The chime of the bell by the door rings again, a repetitive sound going straight through their heads with no mind, used to its endearing pitched tune that repeats all day. This time it’s not anyone entering, but two boys leaving hand in hand.
Sapnap pulls on George's hand towards the car, exiting the front and before they can truly leave the front of the bakery, George reaches inside quickly to flip a sign onto the 'closed' side. Sapnap smiles at the indication their day is finally over, and they can go home into each other's arms, away from all the stress of work and trying not to be touchy in public.
It's a familiar feeling of relief as they lock the door and start towards the car, the taller brunette pulling eagerly on George's wrist, causing giggles to file out of his lips like cherry bubbles and airy laughs.
When they reach the car and George slides in the passenger seat, it's like Sapnap can't resist a single minute anymore. He leans over the dashboard and wraps a hand around the smaller's neck, pulling him in for a quick, loving kiss. George fights the urge to laugh into his mouth, blush flooding his pearlescent skin.
"You really couldn't wait, could you?" George mumbles on his lips after they pull away, a cheesy grin plastered right there for Sapnap to kiss it off. His shaven stubble rubs against George's chin and the smaller laughs further as it tickles him.
"Just missed you," Sapnap slurs in response, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck with assuring movements.
They smile against each other, adoring faces that are maxed with happiness and appreciation that the day is finally over. It was always moments like these they craved after working a long, hard day touching boxes of sweets without the award of eating them, or perhaps each other.
The setting sun casts a shamble of afternoon light between them, highlighting the features of George's face and the dips of Sapnap's hair. They are easily beautiful and they just can't get enough of each other.
"Wait wait," George stumbles when Sapnap tries to kiss him again, whining against his face when George pulls away fully to lean down. He reaches by his feet and lifts his handbag, putting it in his lap with a smirk as he digs inside. Sapnap leans back and props a hand on the wheel, staring intently.
"What're you doing?"
George smiles again as he pulls out a little brown bag, pretty and proper, that's tied with a little pink bow through the bend of the opening. "I got a little something for you."
Sapnap's mouth gapes open slightly, curiosity spinning in his head. George gestures the bag over to him, Sapnap hesitantly opening his hands for it to be set in the middle of them. He recognizes it as one of the bags they use to sell their desserts in, placed in there so it's safe for the customer to take and leave. He can't help but wonder why George has his hands on one right now, as if he bought something from their shop.
"Please do not tell me you bought some treat when we literally work at a bakery-"
"Just open it."
George sits idly, straight-faced instead of high on giggles. It concerns Sapnap for a moment, but when he glances down to see George's fingers tapping nervously on his lap, he knows it's nothing serious. So as he holds the bag in his hands, he finally goes to start peeling it open.
He makes sure that he doesn't ruin the bag, tied with a pretty, velvet, delicate bow that he takes his time to unwrap, unbending the fold so it's now an open bag, but undiscovered. Taking one last look at George, he sees the boy nod gently, a gesture so small it would almost go unnoticed if Sapnap wasn't such a deep observer.
His hand finally dips into the bag, going straight to the bottom to feel the texture of a round substance sitting in the center of it. Taking it out, he sees it's a chocolate chip cookie in the shape of a heart. He smiles widely when he realizes what it is, easily recognizable in its shape that only the palms of Sapnap's hands he used to carve.
"You didn't," he laughs breathlessly, a stupid grin on his face when he looks back at George, who's now leaning back in his seat with his perfect hair and perfect face sitting there nicely.
Sapnap looks at the gift longer and in the middle of the cookie, is a dollop of blue icing. The meaning of it makes him tilt his head back with a cocky scoff, laughing wholeheartedly afterward.
"I did," George replies, voice soft and loving. "After lunch I added the icing bit, and put it in the oven. Thought you would like it."
Before he can let his emotions get the best of him, Sapnap bites his lip to hold back his watery smile. "Fuck George," he curses, teasing joy on his lips, "Of course I like it, I don't think I want to eat it."
The boy cringes a little bit, curling his eyebrows with a smirk, "It'll get hard idiot-"
When Sapnap shoots him a knowing glare, George gasps and they both end up leaning in their car seats, cackling laughter pouring into the car that sounds like a much better tune than the one on their shop door, harmonic happiness spitting on them from the clouds.
The American starts to lean in again, hand rewrapping around his neck and rubbing it in soothing circles, George leaning into the touch with a calm hum. "Why do I even need a cookie when I have someone who tastes just as good, right here?"
George opens his eyes to a really dumb look on Sapnap, rolling his eyes with another giggle. "I hate you,"
"You love me."
George hums again, thinking carefully, when really he doesn't need to when Sapnap is right here, showering him with warm eyes and his see-through heart, it just comes naturally at this point.
"I guess I do," he officially decides, as if it wasn't already official by the way George offered him a cheesy smile at every given day when he looked at Sapnap.
Smiling, George nudges the cookie that still sits in Sapnap's hand, and Sapnap curls his fingers around the sweet and looks away from it, bringing his eyes back to George who looks so lovely in the lowering sun, golden light outlining his blue cheeks and icing lips.
Sapnap smiles so widely that he doesn't spare another second without kissing his perfect boy, heart-shaped cookie resting in his hand that is just as perfect.