Chapter Text
Sapnap wanted to punch his head through a window.
He should have known this would happen. Should have foreseen the sick giggling, the looks, the stuttered touches under dull fluorescents, his underarms sticking slick to his sides as he watched the whole spectacle unravel like a syrup-dripped rose. The Orlando airport’s humid air clammed hot against Sapnap’s skin as his two best friends realized they were in love with each other over and over.
Dream had that puppy dog look in his eyes, that I would do anything you asked of me if only you’d ask it sheen that coated his entire face in fondness. George wasn’t much better, clearly exhausted and drained of color from the hours crammed in the air but still glowing like he had never seen the world before, like everything was bright and brand new and gravity tilted to fit Dream’s smile. It was disgusting, honestly — Sapnap had always liked sweet foods, but he was starting to think he should reconsider that.
“Sap!” George finally turned, tugging him into a quick embrace that smelled of plastic and stale air.
Sapnap had to fight to keep his eyes from rolling even as he grinned. “Hey, Georgie. How was your flight?”
“The worst. Take me home, please.”
“That’s the plan.” Dream butted his shoulders into their space, pinned his stupid smile on George like an adoring little kid. This idiot. “We’ll get you home and then you can sleep as long as you want. Your room’s all set up.”
“Cool.”
“Unless you wanted to sleep somewhere else.” Dream raised his eyebrows, suggestive, bordering the side of teasing that got too honest. “That can also be arranged.”
George scoffed. “You’re an idiot, Dream.”
“What? I didn’t-“
“You are. You’re an idiot. Come on, I’m tired and my legs hurt.” George almost pulled off annoyance, almost, but his cheeks were too pink and his smile too wide and sugar sweet.
“Okay, car’s this way.”
The drive home was not better. Sapnap didn’t know why he had assumed it would be better, but in his mind lived a nasty little piece of hope that only served to disappoint him. There were more smiles. More touches. Not even the seclusion of the back seat could keep Sapnap from inhaling it like second hand smoke. He rolled down his window and used the wind to dry the sweat between his fingers.
It wasn’t that Sapnap was actually upset. Dream and George could be as dumb as they wanted and it wouldn’t actually affect him, but it was still a pain in the ass to sit through. He had gone through the same fiasco with Karl a year or two ago, and looking at it from the outside just made him cringe. Had he ever stared like that? Had Karl’s giggles sounded as punch-drunk as Dream’s did right now? He found relief in knowing that they weren’t like that anymore, at least. They had settled into the comfort of knowing they would always have each other, and that made it easier to exist like functioning members of society.
Dream and George, on the other hand, were insufferable. They were almost worse than the heat as Dream carried suitcase after suitcase into the house while George watched from the window with a soft little smile on his face. They were almost worse than the humidity as George slept for days in his new room, as Dream hovered outside his door for a mentally ill number of hours, as settling into routine became synonymous with soaking in a tub of love-struck hormones.
The worst of it became apparent a week into George’s stay, when he was out of hibernation but not quite practiced at setting his elbows on the kitchen counter.
The clean smell of grass drifted from Sapnap’s open window to his bed, promising another hot day. He stumbled from between his covers and pulled on a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt. Voices carried up the stairs, soft murmurs that were more consonants than anything, and Sapnap tried to pick out words from the air but gave up when the sounds disintegrated into giggles. He huffed.
The hardwood floor was sticky under Sapnap’s feet when he descended the stairs. The kitchen smelled of butter, oven light buzzing softly behind the grimy pane of glass, but what worried Sapnap more was the mess.
There was flour everywhere. On the counters, on the floor, behind George’s ear as he turned his pink face in embarrassment. Dream was mid-wheeze, a smear of yellowish batter dripping down his forehead between his eyebrows. George’s fingers were covered with the stuff, Sapnap could see that even as he moved to wipe them on a paper towel.
“Uh. Hey, guys,” Sapnap said, already regretting leaving his bed.
George grinned and waved. “Hi, Sap.”
Dream had the decency to look the tiniest bit guilty, reaching around George to grab a paper towel from the roll and clean his forehead. “Hey, Nick, sorry about the mess. I promise we’ll clean it up when we’re done.”
“You mean you’ll clean it up,” George said, cheeky and sickly sweet.
Dream looked like he was going to protest, but then George took the paper towel from his hand and wiped the last bit of batter from his eyebrow. “I’ll clean it up,” Dream said.
“And what exactly is it that you’re cleaning up?” Sapnap sat down at a stool in front of the island. There was very little space for his elbows to rest that wasn’t doused in flour or sticky wet.
Dream looked down at George, who looked up at the same time. They were standing intimately close, George’s shoulder cleaving through the front of Dream’s chest, head tipped to the side so their gazes aligned. There was a good six inches between their faces thanks to Dream’s height, but Sapnap still felt like he was intruding on something.
“We’re making cupcakes,” George said, looking back to Sapnap. “For breakfast.”
Sapnap raised an eyebrow at Dream. “Why cupcakes?”
Dream, the notorious healthy eater, hater of all sweet breakfast foods, shrugged one shoulder and bit his lip. “Because they’re good. And George wanted them.”
“Oh, I see.”
“What do you mean, you see?” Dream thumbed at a phantom dribble of batter along the side of his nose.
George’s cheeks dove a soft pink. Sapnap determined that it was far too early for this.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nevermind.”
“Okay.” Dream turned back to the bowl of batter, which was surprisingly clean in a sea of dirty counter space. George stretched his hand toward the spoon, but Dream yanked it out of his reach. “No, George. You are not allowed to stir after what you did. You are not allowed to stir ever again.”
“Dream,” George whined, a pout dragging heavily on his lip.
Sapnap took that as his cue to look down at his phone, responding to Karl’s good morning text with a smile and a heart.
He was halfway to Twitter when a yelp pulled his gaze up again. George had his devilish little hand over the batter for what Sapnap presumed was not the first time this morning, cramming his body between Dream’s hip and the countertop.
“No!” Dream scrambled to push the bowl out of George’s reach. “George,” he wheezed, “stop it. Stop!”
George laughed, a giddy smile throwing his face wide open, pushing further until his fingers hooked around the edge of the bowl. Dream, in a panic, wrapped George’s waist in his arms from the back and scooped him off his feet.
“Dream!” George’s voice was a squawk, cracked and parrotlike, his arms and legs windmilling in the air. “Put me down! Put me down!”
Dream wheezed an entire lung out, doubling over with George still in his grasp. His red cheeks slumped into the space between George’s neck and shoulder.
“Dream.” George was going red as well, battling his way out of a smile even as hiccupped giggles escaped his lips. He wasn’t fighting Dream anymore, soft hands resting on the arms that crossed his torso. “Dream, what is wrong with you?”
Dream only nuzzled his face further into George’s skin, making George’s eyelashes flutter as he was lost to his own smile.
It was at that point that Sapnap couldn’t take it anymore. He dropped his phone on the counter and stood up. “Dream, can I talk to you?”