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George absolutely hated coffee.
Even on late autumn nights when the dusty grey sky cast a shadow on his dimly lit room, buried deep in assignments for his Computer Science class, he’d refuse to consume the rich, caffeinated liquid.
It wasn’t only the sickeningly bitter taste that was off-putting to George; there was something almost tar-like in the consistency of blackish-oak espresso.
So, when George’s best friend, Sapnap, invited him to visit his new place of employment, a café, George was less than enthused.
Sapnap had explained to him over text that the shop name was “ Fab-BREW-lous Café ,” and George had half a mind to respond that, even if he liked coffee, that unfunny name would still be appalling.
Still, because George was a good friend - and definitely not because he wanted Sapnap to owe him a favor - George agreed to visit him.
As George walked, following the directions coming from his practically completely cracked phone, the sound of chatter surrounded him.
George loved walking around his neighbourhood; because he lived in a college town, almost everything was walkable, meaning he had the opportunity to simply watch and observe people living around him on the way to his destination. It was therapeutic really, being able to see people around you being fully human .
George let his fantastical thoughts get the best of him and began wandering around, the common stone semi-paved roads and faded brick walls the only indication of familiarity.
An overly cheery “ Turn right onto King Boulevard, then the destination is on your right! Fab-BREW-lous Café ,” suggested that his wandering did effectively bring him closer to his destination.
Sure enough, a white-painted brick building stood out on the side street from the natural red of the surrounding shops. A sign with the embarrassment of the name in sleek, black lettering further proved he was at the right place. In a word, the exterior was foreboding. Stark, even.
George stood outside of the equally cold-looking door, waiting for a moment before turning the sleek matte hardware of the door handle.
To George’s surprise, the inside was a complete contrast to the chilly white exterior. Surrounding the café were hanging light fixtures, the color glowing off of them a warm and welcoming gold.
The walls were shades of light green and cream, paintings and art prints hung up haphazardly around them. There were tables and sitting nooks, as well, all of the items mismatched despite fitting the environment together so well.
In short, it was cozy.
George headed to the counter of the café, no one currently at the register.
He took this as an opportunity to let his eyes scan the menu for something that wasn’t coffee-based. A cough perked his attention, an unfamiliar face at the register. He must’ve gotten there while George busied himself looking at the menu.
“Hi,” the person said, voice low but not uncomforting. “Welcome to Fab-BREW-lous ! What can I get for you today?”
George attempted not to scoff at the stupid name - the attempt failed - and he shook his head lightly.
“Yeah, yeah,” the man at the register said with a small laugh of his own. “The name’s dumb, I’m aware.”
“Sorry,” George said, still holding back a snicker. The cashier only brushed him off, eyes crinkling through a soft smile. “I’m actually here for someone- do you know if a guy named Sapnap is currently working here?”
The person’s eyes flickered with something that looked like realization, a grin growing on the man’s face.
“Sapnap? Of course, yeah, he’s in the back. I can go grab him if you’d like,” the man offered, reaching up to run a hand through his dirty blonde hair.
“That’d be amazing, thank you,” George said, a grin inadvertently making its way onto his face.
“Be right back,” the man said, starting towards a door behind the counter. “Cool accent, by the way,” he added with a smirk before disappearing into the back room.
George practically flushed at the unexpected comment, the unidentified blond still in the other room.
After a few minutes or so, the door the blond had disappeared into swung open, a familiar devilish smile staring back at him.
“George!” Sapnap called out, stretching out the “o” vowel. “You made it!”
George scoffed, still unable to completely bite back a grin from his friend’s welcome. “It’s not like you gave me much of a choice, really. What was it you said?” he continued rhetorically. “‘ If you don’t come I’ll kick your ass ’? That sounds about right.”
His brunet friend only brushed him off, shrugging. “Guess the scare-tactic worked, though!”
George rolled his eyes, the sound of a door opening distracting him from the conversation.
The same blond from earlier was retreating from the other room, hair falling messily onto his face as he turned. His hair fell right behind his ears, golden hair curling boyishly behind tanned and sun-touched skin.
“George?” a voice interrupted, cutting his observances short.
“Sorry,” George began, “zoned out, I guess.”
Sapnap rolled his eyes, a knowing glint in his eye. “ Clearly .”
“Still, I gotta clock out soon - you came literally right at the end of my shift - so if you don’t order soon, you’re out of luck.”
George realized he hadn’t ended up finding a non-coffee drink earlier, the majority of the words on the menu foreign to him. Obviously, he was aware of what a latte or cappuccino was, but when the menu dissolved into affogatos and ristrettos, it was all Greek to him.
“I don’t know, Jesus . Why don’t you have anything on your menu that isn’t coffee?” he complained, voice probably louder than it should’ve been.
“Because it’s a café, dumbass,” Sapnap chided with a laugh.
George rolled his eyes, despite Sapnap’s retort being more than reasonable. His gaze was glued to the menu. “Don’t you have anything good that isn’t, I don’t know, coffee?”
“Chai latte,” a voice interjected.
George turned back to the register to see the blond barista from earlier situated next to Sapnap.
“What?” George responded.
“Chai,” they explained with a shrug. “Tea. It’s good. I think, at least.” If George didn’t know any better, it seemed like the man was almost stammering.
“Yeah, sure, I’ll try that,” George agreed, now turning to Sapnap. “One medium Chai, please.”
George watched attentively as Sapnap punched in the numbers, the total coming to around five dollars. He pulled his card out of his pocket and began handing it to Sapnap before the blond began shaking his head.
“You’re a friend of Sapnap’s, dude,” he began, motioning for him to put his card away. “You don’t need to pay. It’s on the house.”
George looked to Sapnap for some sort of explanation, but the brunet shrugged.
“Won’t the owner be,” George began, slightly confused as to why this stranger was insistent on him not paying, “I don’t know, mad? That feels like it’d be against the rules or something.”
At this, both Sapnap and the blond laughed, soft chuckles echoing throughout the comforting café.
“That won’t be a problem, luckily,” the blond said, still chuckling.
“Why exactly is that?” George asked, brow raised.
Sapnap cleared his throat, responding for his coworker. “He basically is the owner, George.”
George felt his eyes widen instinctively.
“Well,” the blond interjected, “I wouldn’t say that . It’s my family’s business, though, so I refuse to let you pay. You know what they say, after all: a friend of a friend gets free Chai lattes.”
“No one has ever said that.”
The blond smirked at him, smug and teasing. “They do now.”
“Well,” Sapnap interjected, “if you two are done here, I’m going to get started on George’s Chai.”
George half expected the blond to follow Sapnap to do whatever it is that baristas do, but much to his surprise, he remained planted in front of the register, eyes fixed on George.
“So,” he began, voice considerably softer than moments earlier. “George, huh?”
George nodded. “Yeah, you?”
“Dream,” the blond greeted.
George cocked his head to the side. “Dream? That can’t be your real name.”
“You caught me,” Dream said, jokingly putting his hands in the air in surrender.
“What is it then? Your real name?” George questioned, far too nosy for his own good.
“Does it matter?”
“I think so,” George said truthfully.
“Why?” Dream asked, sounding not defensive but rather genuinely curious.
George shrugged. “‘Dunno, guess it just does.”
Dream hummed understandingly before walking over to where Sapnap was preparing the drink.
George saw him take out a pen and write out something indecipherable onto the cup before placing it on the counter.
“One Chai latte for George!”
George picked up the cup gingerly, attempting to read what the blond had written.
There was the letter “C” with three numbers - below it.
“C? *** ?” George read. “What does this mean?”
The blond simply winked at him. “You’ll see.”
“That is uncomfortably ominous,” George pointed out bluntly.
A lull in their conversation allowed for George to fully observe the blond. He was tall, his face adorning soft features and a wide smile. Both his smile and nose were slightly crooked, however not in an unattractive way. If George didn’t know any better, he’d guess Dream got in a sports accident when the blond was younger. He was wearing a too-big white tee shirt and a brown apron, and George took that as an indication that such clothes were his work attire.
His face was covered in small tanned freckles, the dots receding into the reds of his blush-covered cheeks. His jawline was strong and his eyes piercing. He was objectively attractive, George allowed himself to think. It didn’t help that he was especially tall, as well.
“You okay?” Dream asked, a single brow raised. “You were kinda staring at me.”
“Shit, sorry,” George apologized, shaking his head. “Just zoned out there.”
“Don’t worry, George,” Dream said, a smug grin from earlier returning. “You never have to apologize for staring at me.”
George just scoffed, taking a sip of his Chai. “You’re an idiot,” he simply said light-heartedly, heading towards the exit of the café.
As the door closed, he could make out the blond yelling “ It was nice to meet you too!”
______________________
It was two days later when George had a craving for more Chai.
It definitely wasn’t because Sapnap had been berating him with texts about how he needed to come in again, nor was it because he couldn’t seem to get that awkwardly charming blond barista off of his mind.
Definitely not.
So, as George passed through the stark doors into the warm orange and yellow hues of the café, welcomed by the scent of rosemary and cinnamon, he couldn’t exactly pretend to be annoyed.
Walking up to the counter, unlike before, there was an unfamiliar employee that wasn’t Sapnap or Dream.
His hair was swept up partially in a dark blue beanie, the ends of his ebony hair poking out as he took the order of the person ahead of George in line.
When George got up to the counter, he didn’t bother asking for Sapnap or Dream- most likely, Sapnap would come out from the back when George’s name was called, and George definitely was not in the place to ask for Dream when they had barely shared a conversation.
Thus, he gave his order of “One Chai latte please! ” to the employee.
“Can I have a name for the order?” the man asked, looking at him expectantly.
“George,” he supplied, the employee nodding in response. He handed the money for the drink to the man at the register, the barista taking it willingly.
“ Oh ,” the man responded, stretching out the vowel. “So you’re George.”
George raised a brow, not sure exactly what the barista was insinuating. “What do you mean ‘so you’re George’ ?”
The barista only shrugged.
“I’ll be back with your order in a few.”
After a couple of minutes, a loud “Chai latte for George!” disrupted George’s idle thoughts.
Just as George reached out to grab the drink, the loud sound of the back door opening and closing interrupted him.
“Wait!” a voice that George recognized as Dream said.
George watched with a furrowed brow as Dream sprinted from the back to where the other barista was situated with George’s drink. Just like the first time George had been to the café, Dream pulled out a pen to write something on George’s cup.
After a few moments, the blond put his cup down, offering it to him with a wink.
With a confused expression, George took the drink.
Just like previously, there was a letter followed by three numbers written on the cup.
L
***
George looked to Dream for some sort of explanation, but the blond said nothing in response.
“First C *** , then L *** ,” George began, a look of befuddlement on his face. “What the hell does this mean?”
Dream only laughed in response, loud and airy.
“You’ll see, George.”
“You’re strange, Dream.”
“Oh,” the blond responded with a smirk. “I’m well aware.”
George rolled his eyes, although it was without contempt. “Is Sapnap here? He asked me to come today.”
Dream cocked his head to the side. “Sapnap’s off today.”
George raised a brow, a similar look of confusion on his face and on the blond’s. “Why would he have asked me to come, then?”
George watched, after a few moments, as Dream’s face flushed a deep pink.
“That motherfucker ,” Dream muttered to himself, leaving George to giggle half out of confusion and half at Dream’s fluster.
“What is it?” George questioned.
Dream shook his head, probably faster than he should’ve. “Nothing, Sapnap’s just an idiot.”
“Yeah, I could’ve told you that much,” George responded with a chuckle.
“Listen, Dream, I’ve gotta get to my CompSci class, unfortunately, but it was interesting seeing you again.”
At this, Dream’s fluster seemed to dissolve into something that looked like smugness. “Oh, come on now. Interesting? Not even a ‘nice’ ?”
George shook his head with a laugh. “You’re not getting a ‘ nice ’ until I find out whatever the hell CL ****** means.”
Just as George headed for the door, just as he called out last time, Dream yelled out a faint, “You’ll see, idiot!”
_________________
The third time George went to the café, it was of his own volition.
He reasoned that a hankering for some Chai was a well enough excuse.
As he passed through the now-familiar entryway, the same beanied barista was at the register.
“You again?” the barista asked with a smirk and teasing lilt. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re a regular.”
George snickered at the light-hearted retort of the employee. “Ordering a Chai latte is becoming habitual, I’m afraid.”
“Coming right up,” the man said, typing in the order. “Your name is George, right?”
George nodded.
“Since you’re a regular- I’m Quackity, by the way.”
George handed his card to Quackity for the order, who simply shook his head in response.
“Dream threw a hissy fit when he found out you paid for your drink last time,” he responded. “Something about ‘ he’s the friend of a friend ’ bullshit.”
George raised a brow expectantly as if the man would continue explaining further with a more reasonable explanation.
When Quackity simply began building his drink, however, George's expectations were thwarted.
Today, when Quackity called out a loud “One Chai latte for George!” there was no crash of the door opening and closing.
There was no Dream rushing out to write indecipherable codes on his cup as he sent smug grins across the counter.
The disappointment George felt was unignorable.
Maybe, George wasn’t coming for the chai.
Maybe it was for something - someone - else.
___________
It was three hours after George had been to the café that he got a not-so-pleased message from his friend.
Sapnap: GEORGE
WHY DIDNT U FUCKING TELL ME
YOU WERE GOING TO THE CAFÉ
George furrowed his brow at the unfounded annoyance of Sapnap.
me: i didn’t know i had to…?
i just went to pick up a drink lol
Immediately, Sapnap started typing once again.
Sapnap: Nahh now Dream’s all pissy that he
didn’t get to do ur whole secret code
on the cup thing
Dream cared about his absent presence?
That was news to George.
me: you know about that????
Sapnap: I was there when you first went to
the café and Dream isn’t exactly
subtle.
me: so what do u want from me
Sapnap: Just do me a solid and lmk
before u go to the café again?
me: sure
Weird.
Very weird, indeed.
_______________
It was three days after Sapnap had messaged him seemingly out of the blue before he shot him a text.
me: since you decided to police
me going to the café, thought i’d let
you know i’ll be headed there soon
Sapnap: Got it
Also don’t blame me for policing you
This is at someone else’s request
me: ??????
what??
Sapnap, as expected, simply left George on seen following his confused response. George rolled his eyes, heading out his door to walk to the café.
George was used to the walk there now, not needing directions from his phone. Instead, he got to fully immerse himself in the ambiance and environment of the neighbourhood.
Some of the conversations he picked up while walking were borderline laughable, with one middle-aged angry man yelling on the phone about being late for a hair appointment and another couple babbling on about how they loved each other while dining outdoors.
George had never considered himself a hopeless romantic.
People verbally proclaiming their love, in his opinion, felt almost fabricated. It seemed like a performance more than anything; words muttered to feel closer to the person in question without actively doing anything about it. Doing something to show someone admiration, however- that was love.
George lost himself in his thoughts, letting his subconscious carry him to the café.
When he walked through the door, the eyes of a familiar blond barista were on him.
“Hello again, stranger,” Dream greeted with a grin. The blond didn’t even bother waiting for him to give his order, apparently, because he was already beginning George’s drink as he spoke to him.
“Hello again, ‘ Fab-BREW-lous ’ café owner,” George replied with feigned sardonicism, although he wasn’t the most convincing.
“Okay,” Dream reasoned with a chuckle, “the name isn’t that bad.”
“It is, actually. Terrible, in fact,” George retorted, trying and failing to bite back a grin.
“Well, since you’re such a supportive customer,” Dream joked, rolling his eyes and handing George his cup, “your drink is ready.”
As expected, there was another combination of a letter and numbers. This time, however, there were only two numbers.
“A**,” George read aloud, giggling at what was given to him.
“You are such an idiot,” Dream chided, although his voice held more fondness rather than bite.
“So, let’s see,” George recounted, “we have C-L-A ***-***-** .”
“That would be correct, yes,” Dream responded with a nod and a chuckle.
“You said I’d see what it meant soon, but I’m getting nothing,” George said with a brow raised.
The blond didn’t bother responding for a moment, seemingly lost in his thoughts.
“George?” he asked, voice softening slightly.
“Yeah?”
“I was gonna head out in five minutes since Quackity’s shift starts soon,” - right, the beanie-wearing barista, “and Sapnap and I were planning on getting a bite to eat. You’re free to join us- if you want to, that is.”
If George didn’t know better, Dream almost looked nervous.
“Sure,” George responded with nonchalance, although the increasing speed in his heartbeat proved otherwise.
The smile that grew on the blond’s face was instantaneous, and George figured that it was very much worth an expedited heartbeat to be able to see such a giddy expression from the man.
“If you want to sit down or something, I’ll let you know when I’m heading out.”
George nodded, gingerly making his way over to the sitting nook he had noticed on his first day at the café.
The warm ambiance of the overhead lights emulated the feeling of coziness, George wasting no time taking in the cinnamon and clove of his Chai.
After a few minutes of warm tea and comfortable lounging, a familiar face walked up to him.
Unlike usual, he was no longer wearing a brown apron or white ill-fitting tee. Instead, he was wearing black slacks and a muted-green jumper. Now, from where George could see him closer up and not behind a counter, he was tall - taller than George had expected, at least - and was wearing well-worn black Converse. The shoe choice verified that he was tall; he didn’t exactly gain inches from a flat sneaker sole.
He looked more intimidating like this, George supposed.
The smile he was adorning as he let George know they could leave, however, said otherwise.
The boys continued out of the café, exchanging comfortable conversation as they headed to the laughably named restaurant Dream and Sapnap had decided on.
“It’s called Knead-to-Know? What is it with you and going to places where the names have stupid puns?”
“Oh, shut up.”
George cherished the atmosphere between the two, Dream never speaking too loudly so that the ambient noise of the neighbourhood was still audible.
“I love walking around here,” Dream enthused, as if he was reading George’s mind. “It’s so busy- I love observing the lives of people around you.”
George simply nodded in silence, surprisedly unsure of how they shared such a similar sentiment.
Dream seemed to take his silence for distaste as he spoke up once again. “Sorry,” the blond backtracked with an awkward chuckle, “was that weird?”
George shook his head, probably faster than he should’ve. “No, it’s just that I completely agree. It’s humanizing, in a way.”
A soft smile grew on Dream’s face as he nodded. “Yeah, exactly.”
Part of George wished he could take a picture of how Dream looked right now so that the moment wouldn’t be fleeting.
After more conversation, and a hell of a lot more laughter, the two arrived at Knead-to-Know Pizza . George wasn’t exactly subtle with his scoff towards the sign with the name adorned on it.
Walking through the doors of the restaurant, they were met with the new and warm scent of garlic and oregano.
Across the room, George could see Sapnap waving from a booth.
The two attentively made their way over, George sliding into the empty seat. Surprisingly, Dream opted to sit next to him rather than Sapnap.
George wasn’t exactly complaining, though.
As the three decided on orders - they opted to all split a pizza - they exchanged regular small-talk, George’s attention fading in and out.
It was only after George felt a gentle kick to his right foot that he was suddenly alertly aware.
George glanced down, and to his astonishment, a worn black Converse sneaker was lightly brushing his own shoes.
To test the waters slightly, George kicked back.
George barely snuck a look at Dream’s face, and even then, he could tell the blond was blushing.
The two went on like that for almost a minute, taking turns lightly hitting the other’s shoe, until George pushed it further.
This time, instead of kicking Dream’s shoe, he linked his ankle over the blond’s.
He could practically hear Dream’s breath stutter from next to him, a giggle erupting from George in response.
“What are you two doing ?” Sapnap exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Is there some sort of inside joke I don’t get, despite the fact that you two have only met like three times?”
“Nothing Sapnap,” George responded with a light laugh, “nothing.”
When Dream’s ankle tightened so it was closer to George’s, maybe, George reasoned, it wasn’t ‘nothing’ after all.
_______________
It was a day later when George decided he was going to the café again. Sure, call him impatient, but he was really craving a Chai latte.
Yeah, definitely a Chai latte.
me: do i still need to text u when i’m
minding my own business and going
to the café
Sapnap: Yes.
Does this mean u are currently minding
your own business and currently going
to the café?
me: ….maybe…
Sapnap: Taking that as a yes
George giggled at the interaction, already heading towards his door to leave for the shop.
After a brisk walk, he opened the doors to Sapnap at the register.
Upon Sapnap’s apparent realization of his arrival, he called out, “Dream! Your guy is here!”
George watched with a giggle as Dream clumsily almost tumbled out of the back door.
Heading to the register, George shook his head jokingly. “Your guy ?” George questioned, repeating Sapnap’s words.
George smirked proudly at the flush of red that blossomed over Dream’s face. The blond didn’t have a sufficient response, apparently, as he just chuckled awkwardly and began making George’s chai.
“One day, you know, I’m going to pay for that drink,” George commented, rolling his eyes.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Dream chided, sprinkling nutmeg onto the tan liquid.
Like every day, Dream pulled out a pen and wrote something on the cup.
“One chai latte for George,” Dream called out, a smug grin on his face. Unlike the usual proud smile Dream had after he gave George another piece of the indecipherable code, the expression the blond was wearing seemed almost expectant.
George looked at the cup.
Like usual, it housed a singular letter and numbers.
The message, however, was new.
Y
**
:) did you crack the code?
George looked back to Dream with a brow raised.
“I really don’t get it,” he admitted with a shame-ridden awkward chuckle.
Dream rolled his eyes playfully.
“ C-L-A-Y, ” George thought aloud, cocking his head. “ Clay ? What, are you in some secret pottery cult?”
Dream only wheezed at this, airy and warm.
“No, dumbass, Clay is my name . Like, real name, that is,” Dream responded, his apprehension apparent in the way his hands fidgeted.
George’s eyes lit up in realization.
“Oh.”
“Oh,” Dream repeated, voice shakier than usual.
“It suits you,” George said, a content grin stuck onto his face. “It’s cute.”
Dream’s usual smug personality returned, it seemed, and as did his flushed face. “Are you insinuating that I’m cute?”
George rolled his eyes light-heartedly. “That depends,” George teased. “Are you cute enough to give me your number?”
The laugh he received from that was almost thunderous, and George couldn’t help but furrow his brow at the unexpected response.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, curiosity intermixing with confusion.
“My God George, you are so dense,” Dream said, albeit unkindly.
“Elaborate,” George ushered.
“The numbers on the cup added up to be my phone number , idiot.”
Oh.
oh.
Maybe he was an idiot.
George covered his now-blushing face with his palm at his own self-sacrificial obliviousness.
“I’m so dumb,” he muttered to himself.
“True,” Dream agreed, laughing lightly. “You’re cute, though, so it makes up for it.”
George practically sputtered at the compliment. “You can’t just say that!” he exclaimed, although he’d be lying if he didn’t enjoy it.
“What, so you can call me cute but I can’t say it to you?” Dream asked rhetorically.
“Yup,” George joked, “exactly.”
George laughed to himself as a thought crossed his mind. “Is this why Sapnap kept asking me to let him know when I was going to the café? So he could notify you and you could come here to write dumb shit on a cup?”
Dream feigned hurt, putting his hand on his heart dramatically. “Did you just call my name dumb shit ?” Dream asked jokingly. “Shame on you, George.”
George only shook his head lightly, laughing softly to himself.
“So,” the brunet began, “about that number?”
_____________________
It was only five minutes after George left the café that he texted Dream.
me: hey
is this dream
or uh clay
Dream <3: this is he
“uh clay” in the flesh
me: ur dumb
also wait
this is george btw
Dream <3: wow, THE george???
i’m a huge fan
(yeah, i figured it was you, idiot)
George laughed softly to himself at the antics of the blond and at the emoticon next to his name that Dream had given to himself.
me: u r dumb.
Dream <3: hey george?
me: dream
Dream <3: you mocha me crazy ;)
me: YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT
Dream <3: :))))))))
me: ugh
:)))))