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It’s only when Sapnap finally looks up into the mirror that he realizes this might actually be a not-good idea.
George is standing behind him, shaking out a towel with a little self-satisfied smile on his face. Sapnap looks down at the scissors he snatched from the junk drawer where they rest on the counter, back up at himself, and then up again to George. Yeah, this is an awful fucking idea, but then George smirks and maybe it won’t be that bad if this is his view.
“Why do you look so scared? I’m not gonna cut off your ears,” George tosses the towel carelessly around Sapnap’s shoulders, pulling it tight to his throat until Sapnap chokes on a laugh.
“Ow! Get off, holy shit,” Sapnap struggles against it, but George only laughs, pulling tighter, laughing loud right up against his ear. Sapnap shudders against it. “You piece of shit- ha- let me go!”
George throws his head back laughing, and finally drops the corners of the towel. As he catches his breath, he tips his head forward to thunk his forehead against the crown of Sapnap’s head, and Sapnap feels it echo through him like a shockwave. “Shut up, you’re fine. Don’t be a baby.”
Sapnap grins at him helplessly. Hopelessly. “I could be your baby.”
George’s eyebrows flicker up, unamused, and he picks up the scissors. “Shut up. Let me cut your hair.”
Sapnap watches in the mirror as George’s eyebrows furrow, and he clenches his teeth together as George cards his fingers slow through Sapnap’s hair. And there it is again, as always, the urge to reach out, reach back, kiss him. It’s simple, the way it always is, the easiest, most natural thing in the world. The expected reaction. His heart’s favorite call-and-response. George idly opens and closes the scissors, and Sapnap wants to kiss him.
“You don't want it too short, right? You like it kinda shaggy?” George drags his fingers through Sapnap’s hair again, and Sapnap can feel his jaw twitch as he tries not to press into the touch.
“Yeah, I just don't wanna look like a nerd. Or bald,” He mumbles. George has been listening to him complain about his hair for weeks now, about how it's too long, how he doesn't know what to do with it, until he got fed up and burst through Sapnap’s door with the pair of scissors, some clippers, and a freshly-watched Youtube tutorial.
(Sapnap caved fast. He gave in like a rotted-out wood floor.)
“There's an idea, I’ll just shave it all off. Sounds good,” George even turns on the clippers for good measure, holding them up to Sapnap’s neck threateningly.
Sapnap meets his blank stare in the mirror with his best attempt at a winning smile. “You wouldn't. You like me too much.”
George scoffs, and turns off the clippers. He looks down. Tilts Sapnap’s head into position with two fingers at his temple. “Right. Sure.”
“Besides, Dream would kill you if you upset me,” Sapnap points out, closing his eyes. George makes his first snip, and Sapnap exhales. Nothing but trust now.
George snorts at that. “Yeah, that's true, actually. Can’t have precious Sappy getting upset.” Another two snips, then two fingers tipping his chin up without a word. Sapnap grins.
George says it again, half to himself, sweetly mocking as he snips away. “Precious Sappy,” A pause, a light tug on his hair, a decisive cut. “Sweet Sapnap.”
“That’s me,” Sapnap goes to nod, but remembers himself at George’s yelp. “Sorry!”
A scoff. “Don't apologize to me, it's gonna be your hair that's fucked up if you squirm around,” He rakes his fingers hard through Sapnap’s hair, hard enough that he feels the tug in his scalp. “Gotta pay attention, Mr. Sapnap.”
Sapnap just lets his head fall back at the tug, looking up at George’s chin. He needs to shave, Sapnap notes absentmindedly. He's getting all stubbly. George grins down at him.
“Do you want your hair cut or not?” George teases. He yanks lightly at Sapnap’s hair again. “Did you just want me to play with your hair?”
Sapnap just hums dreamily despite the accusation, and George snickers. “You did, didn't you? Aren't you sweet?” Another tug to his hair, and Sapnap’s eyes fall close. “You're so dumb.”
At that, Sapnap sits up, lets George’s hands fall away from his hair. “I'm not dumb, I need my hair cut,” He feels dizzy, and it only gets worse when George sweetly slips his hands back into his hair, guiding his head this way and that as he trims.
“Sit still and behave then, let me take care of you,” George’s voice is low, maybe purposefully low, and Sapnap sways where he's sitting on the chair they dragged in from the kitchen.
Their eyes meet for a long moment in the mirror, and George’s face is perfect as ever, unflinching and unwavering, solid and stable. Open and waiting. Sapnap wants to kiss him.
“Grge…” He murmurs, and George snorts, tugging on his hair again with a breathy “Surpnurp…” in return. He's dumb. Sapnap tells him so.
George just smiles, tilts his head a little, and picks up the clippers.
The buzz of the clippers is almost soothing as Sapnap stares down at his lap, at his bare knees. He only half-trusts George to not fuck up his hair completely, but George keeps humming reassuringly like he knows what he’s doing, so maybe it won't turn out horribly. He guesses he trusts him. He supposes he kind of always has.
It’s a nice little daze that settles through his brain as George works, turning his head left and right to trim carefully around his ears. He keeps leaning too close, Sapnap can feel his breath on his skin, and it's making him want to kiss him.
Everything he does makes him want to kiss him. It's kind of a problem.
He comes back to his brain when George sets the clippers on the counter, brushes off the back of his neck, threads his fingers through Sapnap’s hair and pulls hard. “All done. Good job.”
Sapnap blinks fast, pulling away from George’s hand, and gets up. He doesn't even bother looking at his hair. He just turns, and looks at George. He wants to kiss him.
George is grinning, and reaches out, twirls a piece of hair around his finger as Sapnap watches, spellbound as always. “I did good. You look very handsome.”
“Thanks. You need to shave.” He wants to kiss him.
George rolls his eyes, but he pulls him in anyways, gentle hands on his jaw, brushing their noses together before finally giving in and pressing their smiles together like a flower between dictionary pages.
“You like the stubble,” George whispers when he pulls away. “But if you really want me to shave, you can always do it for me.”