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Sapnap knew Dream like the back of his hand.
To be fair, it would be a bit hard to avoid at this point. He’s always been perceptive, silently picking up on each eye twitch of annoyance, every uptick in a suppressed smile and filing it away for later. Living with Dream has only made it worse.
He can’t help it, he’s just paid a little too close attention. And now, he’s got all this useless information, stuff too small for him to realistically know without looking like a weirdo. He knows Dream hates songs that change tempo too fast, knows he refuses to sleep on the couch because the heater turning on is just loud enough to be distracting when he’s on the verge of sleep. Knows he loves it when his mom presses a kiss to his temple as she leaves, even if he grumbles about having to lean down for her to do it.
He can tell when his mood changes, that the trickle of Patches waterfall drinking fountain calms him down, or that even though he claims he doesn’t get anxious, he can’t bring himself to respond to any texts until he’s solved his problem. To Sapnap, Dream’s an open book, and sometimes he wishes he weren’t.
Because in times like now, where Dream is doing everything he can to prevent Sapnap from seeing how off he is, Sapnap’s already seen his discontent, clear as day.
“Dream,” he sighs, catching the other man’s wrist with his hand and guiding it back down to his side. His arm goes easily, aborting his attempt at running his hand through his hair for the tenth time. He’s been fretting around for the past 10 minutes, alternating between dragging a rag in mindless circles over the already clean island in the kitchen and pushing away the invisible strands that fell in his face from staring at the marbled countertop.
Sapnap’s hand stays on his wrist, thumb moving in a gentle caress across the delicate veins just under the surface. He brings his other hand to rest on the crook of his shoulder, squeezing the light muscle definition that’s wound up too tense for his liking. “Dream, stop.”
Dream shifts back and forth on his feet, but makes no attempts to move out of the hold. His hands come together to play with his fingertips giving him something for his eyes to flick between instead of holding contact with Sapnap’s own. They’ve always been more of a mix than Dream’s, swirls of green and blue and littered with flecks of gold that stare into the monochrome of his own with a purpose that threatens to further fray his frazzled state.
“I don’t know,” Dream says tiredly, volume just above a whisper. Like the energy of forcing himself to appear normal has been draining his voice, until all he’s left to do is suffer in quiet desperation. Each word takes ages to drag up his throat, processed and reprocessed through his brain so many times the sentences don’t feel like they’re even related anymore. “It’s been like this since I woke up this morning. Restless, I guess. Bored. I- I tried to edit but I can’t focus on anything, I keep zoning out. Every decision I make isn't right. It hasn’t been this bad in months.”
His hands ball into fists, anger flashing through his body and leaving within an instant, slipping through the cracks in his psyche. He’s unable to hold onto anything but the weighted feel of Sapnap’s hands grounding him to reality.
“Hey, that’s okay. It happens,” Sapnap soothes, “did you eat?”
He’s unsurprised when Dream shakes his head no, unstyled hair falling in pieces onto his face. “Was gonna make lunch for us but nothing sounded good, and then I just missed it altogether.” Their eyes flick to the clock over the oven, the digital 8:37PM staring back at them.
“I thought that maybe if I cleaned the kitchen I would be more excited to cook, I dunno. It doesn’t matter, it didn’t work.”
Here’s the thing. Dream likes taking care of people. Likes knowing his friends know they’re cared for, that they appreciate his company. Sapnap can tell, in every satisfied smile that occurs when someone’s shocked thank you utters from their lips. The control gives him clarity, makes it easier to stay ahead of his mind when he’s doing it for someone else. So Sapnap has no problem being the receiver, takes on whatever sugar baby or leech jokes that come his way, focusing instead on thanking properly for every meal paid for and going with every decision Dream steadfastly decides on.
He knows sometimes it gets too much. Decision fatigue maybe, mixed with the overwhelming exhaustion that comes with the amount of energy it takes to even think with adhd. Being the one in charge comes with its consequences, and part of that is feeling inadequate when you’re unable to make things work. Sapnap can tell when it hits him, maybe sometimes more than Dream does.
Usually, Sapnap can catch it in time. It doesn’t take much to set Dream back on track, and with an easy problem and a leading question that Dream can dig his teeth into he’s set back up to lead.
But sometimes, when it gets like this, he knows Dream needs a hard reset. Take the day off, live in his head a bit. No one is immune to days of depression, and sometimes you just gotta slow down and build the motivation back up again.
And while he’s good at making his mind work a million miles an hour, Dream sucks at waiting it out—- and he knows it, too.
Maybe that’s why when Sapnap pushes him into the barstool to sit by the island, pressing harder in an unspoken command to stay before turning rummaging through the cabinets, Dream releases nothing but a sigh of relief.
“Well, since I suck at cooking, I’m going to make soup. That good for you?” Sapnap asks. Dream nods, going easily with whatever Sapnap chooses. His heat drops into his arms, giving into the crumbles of the facade and showing how exhausted he truly feels. Sapnap walks over to rub his back in wide circles, a warm connection comforting as his mind wanders. He doesn’t make him speak, doesn’t push him to explain how he feels. Dream explained it once, when he was out of it. ‘It’s kinda like thought jello,’ he said, ‘there’s thoughts there, you know there is, but there’s nothing real. No substance. Just stuff taking up space.”
Soon enough the soup is ready, and Sapnap transfers it into bowls without a word. It’s homemade, the one Dream’s mom brought over the other day, vegetable soup filled with all of their favorites. For a second, he considers making sandwiches, maybe a grilled cheese or something, but he doubts Dream’s really focused enough to eat it. He settles on adding some quick garlic bread, just in case his brain loses interest in the warm liquid. He puts the bowls and the bread onto a platter, holding it up triumphantly with two hands. Dream lifts his head enough to offer a meek smile in return.
“Couch. Lets go, loser,” Sapnap prods, kicking Dream’s ankle lightly with socked feet. He stands, shuffling over to grab two glasses of water before leading Sapnap out of the room.
“Oh shit, I would’ve totally had to go back for drinks. Thank you,” Sapnap praises, making sure to keep his voice genuine. Whether Dream believes the small lie or not, the pleased smile he gets in response was exactly what Sapnap was aiming for. He places the coasters down on the wooden coffee table, using some as makeshift placemats for the platter.
Sapnap chats to himself, absentmindedly filling Dream on random parts of his day as they settle into the couch. Hes not expecting any real engagement from the other man, instead just giving Dream a voice to focus on as he turns on the TV.
“What do you wanna watch?” Dream asks. He stirs the spoon around in the soup intently, careful not to clink the metal against the ceramic sides.
Too sharp of a noise, Sapnap knows.
“I've been kinda in the mood to watch Kingsman again,” Sapnap answers, “is that good with you?”
Dream’s eyes brighten a bit, nodding around the spoon that made it into his mouth. “Yeah, I love that movie.”
Sapnap hums. It’s one of Dream’s favorites, a perfect mix of captivating action and easily digestible comedy. He’s heard him talk about watching it more than once too, which— getting him to watch a movie once is a feat in itself, let alone multiple times.
Sapnap presses play, switching the Roku remote out for his spoon as he starts to eat. He lets himself get engrossed in the familiar scenes, commenting on every random piece of trivia Dream throws out as they watch along.
“You know, during both world wars, tailors were actually commonly used as fronts for central intelligence in England,” Dream says.
“Huh. I wonder if they also had sick secret entrances like this elevator thing,” Sapnap shoots back, “it’s not worth it if there’s no cool secret passageways. Man, we should put a secret room in our house. Or maybe— yo, maybe we can make a secret hallway to each other’s rooms. And George’s, I guess.”
“We’re the only three that would live here. If it goes to the three of our rooms, it’s just a normal hallway,” Dream laughs. Sapnap hums in easy agreement, standing and stretching his arms above his head. He cracks open an eye to watch Dream stare at him as he does so, failing to contain a smug smile. Dream's eyes eventually make their way back up to his face, promptly sticking his tongue out at Sapnap’s expression.
“Fuck you. Whatever,” Dream says, smiling at the bubbly laugh he gets in response.
“I didn’t even say anything!” Sapnap defends. Dream just rolls his eyes, the bite of the action softened by the happy flush that’s made its way high onto Dream's cheeks. The movie is still playing in the background, but neither of them make the move to pause it despite not paying attention.
“I’m going to get more soup. Want some?” Sapnap asks, “I’m already going anyway.”
Dream looks down in surprise to find his bowl empty, save for a small amount of now cold broth at the bottom.
“Oh. Yeah, I guess so. I was holding it cause it kept my hands warm, and it’s like I ate it without realizing,” Dream says in slight wonder. He puts the ceramic back onto the makeshift tray.
“I know, your hands are always as cold as shit,” Sapnap teases, “lanky motherfucker. Your circulation sucks ass.” He turns in the open archway to the living room to catch the middle finger Dream throws up in response.
“Oooh, be careful with those. Pull one out in winter and you might get frostbite.”
Sapnap places the tray on the island, moving the bowls over to wait next to the stovetop as the soup reheats. It clicks twice before the flame catches, a wide ring of vibrant blue before he turns the setting to low. He looks at the abandoned pieces of garlic bread, deciding to throw them back in the oven for a bit to be reheated as well. As he waits, he pulls some feta and grape tomatoes out of the fridge, slicing the small red fruit in half and warming the feta in the microwave.
Within a couple minutes he has everything back on the tray, placed as neatly as he could manage.
Dream’s refocused back on the movie when he comes back, and Sapnap makes sure not to block his view when he places the tray back down.
“Try this,” Sapnap orders gently, holding the bread up to Dream's mouth. He leans back on the couch to look down, eyeing it curiously.
“What is it?”
“Feta and tomatoes on garlic bread. It slaps, I promise,” Sapnap says. He pulls it away when Dream goes to grab it, shaking his head at the confused look he gets in response. “Don’t take it, just bite it.”
Dream rolls his eyes at him again, hand this time curling around Sapnap’s wrist as he guides the piece of bread into his mouth. He chews thoughtfully, and Sapnap waits, humming happily when Dream expresses his approval.
“See, I told you it was good,” he cheers, taking a bite out of it himself before holding it back out, “here, it’s yours.”
“What the fuck, you literally have your own,” Dream protests lightly, searching immediately for the next perfect bite. Sapnap arranged the tomatoes with that in mind, each spaced out just enough to ensure one half for every mouthful.
“Feeding tax,” Sapnap shrugs. Dream grumbles something about how he didn’t even get the option to feed himself, which sapnap happily ignores in favor of settling back in to watch the movie. He’s honestly not really all that hungry, wasn’t even before he made the soup, so he opts to grab the other piece of bread instead of his bowl.
Dream was already starting to get better, he could tell. He finished the slice of bread and reached immediately for the soup, happily eating now that sapnap had sneak attacked his mind into doing so. It’s not in his nature to care for people like this, but he can see the appeal when Dream starts humming along to the soundtrack of the movie, visibly more present than the shell he was a meer hour ago.
Absently, Dream tilts his head and cracks his neck, eyes widening at the satisfying noise it exudes, audible even over the tv. Immediately, he starts cracking everything he could; his knuckles, his back, even rolling his ankles for each loud release of tension. Sapnap holds his hands out without a word, allowing Dream to crack each finger twice to chase the sound.
When he’s done, Sapnap swirls around in his seat and promptly drops his head into Dreams blanket covered lap. Soft, sweatshirt-covered arms shoot out of the way in surprise, before slowly coming back down to rest the bowl on Sapnap’s shoulder.
“You’re such an idiot,” he says under his breath, “I could’ve spilled this whole bowl and you would’ve had, like, burns covering your entire face. You would’ve just become Deadpool.”
Sapnap chuckles, fixing the blanket so he could see the tv better. “Deadpool kinda pulled, dude. Like lowkey? I would be fine with that.”
He felt an arm hold gently across his chest as Dream leaned forward, placing the bowl back onto the tray. Sapnap leans up lightly to peek into it, satisfied at its lack of contents. Dream's arm stays wrapped around his body when he leans back, causing Sapnap to burrow more into his lap.
Dream grips him harder, trapping him against his stomach. “Stop moving, idiot.”
Sapnap looks up at him with a giggle. “Why? You gonna get hard or somethin’?”
“Well, fucking maybe, if you keep moving around. Just lay there like a normal person, Nick.”
“Oooh, but what if I don’t want to stop moving? What then?” Sapnnap teases.
Despite his words, he concedes, turning slowly back towards to cause less accidental friction.
Dream chuckles. “When you literally shoved your face into my dick, why was that kinda…”
“Fuck off dude, you freak,” Sapnap laughs, “I was just trying to get comfy.”
A warm feeling settles in Sapnap’s chest at the joy in Dream’s voice, sweet and happy and present in the moment. It’s music to Sapnap’s ears.
They stay like that until the movie ends, credits rolling as Sapnap turns once more in Dreams lap. He stares up at the bottom of his jaw as Dreams eyes stay zoned out onto the tv. He’s sporting slight stubble, probably from being to out of it to shave this morning. It makes a scratching noise when Sapnap jokingly pushes his fist into the corner of Dream’s chin, a slow motion punch to bring his attention back down to him. Dream’s face follows the punch, slowly coming back to center with amusement dancing through his eyes.
Sapnap blinks innocently up at him and waits for him to strike.
Dream's arm suddenly wraps around his whole body trying to push him off the couch. Sapnap laughs as he digs his fingers into Dream's bicep, curling Dream's body on top of his own as they tumble onto the floor.
The spoons rattle in their bowls as Dream pushes the table away with one hand, moving any harsh corners from their play fight as the other grabs Sapnap’s wrist to prevent him from trying to push him off.
They roll around for a couple minutes, trying to restrain each other without actually escalating the fight to include anything that could actually hurt the other person. Eventually, Dream wins out, laying sideways with an elbow around sapnaps neck and an arm trapping Sapnap’s own in a locked embrace.
“No!” Sapnap screams, his protest quickly dissolving into a laugh as he flails his body in an attempt to break free.
“Sapnap, just give up,” Dream teases, flinching when sapnaps head collides with his jaw, “ugh, ow, you hit me.”
“Aw, sorry, I was busy being choked by an ANIMAL,” Sapnap exaggerates, continuing to thrash around in Dream’s grip in random spurts of energy. The arm around his neck wasn’t tight, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t complain about it.
“Oh what an animal I am, You’re so right,” he mocks, pulling him closer to taunt the words low in Sapnap’s ear, “finishing a fight you started.”
The arm around Sapnap’s chest moves to grip at his hip, fingers pressing hard. “Also, what did I say about squirming in my lap?”
Sapnap’s breath is still coming out in pants, but he manages a slight laugh. “That you can’t have anything near within a 10 foot radius of your dick or else you’ll get hard? Sucks for you, you’re the one who shut yourself away from human contact for months on end. I’m using that shit to my advantage,” he retorts. In retaliation, Dream’s elbow closes in, tightening slightly around his neck.
“Aright! Uncle, uncle, Jesus Christ,” Sapnap rushes, sitting up to glare down at Dream’s smug expression, “motherfucker.”
“You don’t use my height against me enough. You got me to the ground, which was smart, but then you never followed through. See, if you…”
Sapnap nods along, barely listening to Dream’s fighting tips. He’s focused in on the animated sound of Dream’s voice, and the light in his eyes as he goes through his strategy. He can hear the edges of fog lifting as his explanation gets faster, hands flying in demonstration.
“Whatever, dude. I’m not gonna need to know how to fight you anyway. What I need is to practice pvp. I was teaching Sylvee and she-“
“Oh my god, don’t tell me you lost a pvp to Sylvee. That’s so embarrassing,” Dream interrupts.
“What? No, obviously not, but she actually managed to crit me, and that was enough of a problem in itself.”
The room is still dim from the movie, and the glow from lights in the hallway cast a saturated outline around Dream’s body. They lay there and catch their breath for a moment, heart beating rapidly from the impromptu wrestling match.
Eventually, Sapnap stands up, wiggling his fingers with an outstretched hand before Dream clasps them with his own.
“Come on. PVP time,” Sapnap says, starting to walk towards the steps. His arm jolts at the shoulder, and he turns to see Dream still rooted in one spot with a fond expression on his face.
“What?” Sapnap asks.
“Thanks,” Dream responds. Genuine appreciation gleams in his eyes, giving away just how much he noticed Sapnap’s efforts throughout the night.
A smile forms across his lips. “I got you man, always. You know that.”
And although Sapnap can decode every micro expression etched on Dream’s face, he’s pretty sure even a blind man could see the brightness in the smile he sends back.