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When Sapnap hugs George at the airport, it’s just as tight as the first hug they ever shared back in March. But back then it was Sapnap being the one to let go last, and this time it’s George desperately clinging to him despite the crowd. It’s not like Sapnap isn’t happy to see him, no, he is one breath away from raw screaming his lungs out. But the knowledge that George is here to stay, that they won’t ever separate, makes everything easier. He’d hug him lots from now on, no need to squeeze the soul out of him right away.
On the short walk to the car, George manages to fake-giggle himself into a fit of actual laughter, complain about the wonky wheel on his travel bag, and say Sapnap’s shoelaces are dumb. They’re not dumb, but Sapnap just laughs. George, George is here, George can see his shoelaces as they walk together to his car!
“Sapnap, no way,” George says when they’re half-way to their home, face pressed to the window.
“What?”
“These telephone poles. I think we are in Florida,” George says — and immediately bursts into a fit of laughter at his own lame joke. Sapnap can’t help it, he laughs too, because George’s laughter is so very much brighter when not filtered through microphone and miles of internet connection. It’s hard not to join.
They agree Sapnap would follow him with a camera when he enters the house. They also agree, after George’s request and Sapnap’s lack of arguments, that whatever camera catches will probably not see the light of the day.
As Sapnap watches his two best friends stop breathing for a moment when their eyes meet and leap into each other arms and just stand there unmoving in embrace and silently weep, he knows for sure this one is for the family archive only. He stops recording basically right away in any case. He knew this would be important, he just didn’t know it would be like this. He thought they would be all… kid-like, that George would grab onto Dream like a baby monkey and maybe make him fall, and that they would laugh so hard they would end up in hiccups. Instead, they have this quiet moment that breaks only when Dream sniffles too loud.
“Gross,” George says, as if he doesn’t sound like his own nose is stuffy.
“You’re gross,” Dream shots back.
And then they’re finally laughing. And Dream looks at him, eyes shiny, and extends his arm, beckoning, and they finally share a hug, a Dream-Team hug, and Sapnap finds himself welling up too. Oh, well. If there’s any good time to cry a bit, it’s this one.
George gets settled in so easily. He tears through his travel bag and previously shipped-in boxes with the fury a man who just got off a 10-hour-flight should not possess. He hangs up clothes (and throws some on the floor too), makes the bed with the worn-out sheets he brought, places all his trinkets on the computer desk. Patches comes in too, blinking at him, and he notices her and looks at her back with delight in his eyes, and Dream is there like a mom at a soccer practice, phone ready in his hands to take photos. Sapnap has to admit, Dream’s got a point there: the sight of Patches nestling in George’s arms makes his heart melt a little. Cat-on-cat contact, ha.
All in all, it’s like magic. It’s so fucking corny, but it is like magic, everything, from the way the room looks lived-in after just a couple of hours of work put into it, to Patches being so welcoming, to weather being not too hot, to the very simple fact of George being here. They show him the house, for the second time, but this time George is actually here to make dumb comments he wasn’t able to when it was just a Facetime call: about how the corridors are too long and what if he ends up dying from thirst before reaching the kitchen, and about how the doors open too quickly, and how he now basically can say he exercises every day because walking up and down the stairs is a real exercise, it is, Dream, isn’t it? And Dream just says, This doesn’t mean you should stop doing your push-ups, and leads him to his office as they bicker about something incredibly dumb, and only then Sapnap notices how Dream’s palm rests at the small of George’s back, and he goes, huh.
They all gather in the main room, squashed on the sofa, some movie they use for white noise playing on the TV. All of them felt stupid to just go to sleep in separate rooms, so here they’re, screaming and laughing and throwing Cheetos into each other's mouths, and when he plays rounds of speed chess with George, Dream tickles George’s sides making him shriek and squirm, and Sapnap laughs so hard at this he ends up throwing the game. They fall asleep deep into the night, Dream in the center, each arm wrapped around each of them, and it’s one of the best days of Sapnap’s life.
George fits in so easily with them. He does not behave like a guest. He does not need to ask where the teaspoons are or which tight-packed shelf in the fridge has the milk, he knows all of that from the numerous Facetime calls they had, from the offhand comments either he or Dream have made during the last months.
Sapnap chuckles into his tea, watching George make a disgusted face at the tomato he is currently cutting.
“I’m never helping you with breakfast again,” George whines, cutting off a slice. “This is messed up.”
“You can leave that to me and sit down,” Dream says, adding salt and pepper to the egg mixture. They stand near each other, almost hip-to-hip. “I won’t mind.”
And it’s funny but… George doesn’t leave. He makes a long exasperated ugh sound but stays just where he is, still making a face like it’s a big slug he is cutting, not a vegetable, but he doesn’t leave. And when Dream moves to grab a new knife, sliding behind him, his arm rests on George’s back in a soft gesture, hand comfortable just above the hip. It’s hard to tell, but Sapnap thinks George leans a bit into his side too, and for the second time since George stepped foot into the house, Sapnap thinks, huh, wondering.
The third 'huh' happens the very same day. He and George leave for a grocery store, the small but nice one in their neighborhood. Realistically, no one should pay them any mind but they wear beanies and masks just in case. It’s not that Dream isn’t ready for the face reveal, it’s just that they decided to have some personal time, a week, maybe two of just three of them.
“Do you think Dream making me cut tomatoes and now buy tomatoes is him saying he doesn’t actually want me here?” George says, squinting at the groceries list in his hands. Dream wrote it down instead of typing out. They don’t actually need much in terms of food but George wanted snacks, so here they are.
Sapnap rolls his eyes, fondly. They should make a quotebook of the shit George says one day. Now that would sell. “Yes,” he says. “Now go and grab some avocado for him, maybe he won’t kick you out on the very first day.”
George readily dives into the avocado pile. Sapnap watches with slight fascination as he carefully touches one after the other, concentration written all over his face, and puts a couple into not one, but two different plastic bags.
“What’s up with that?” He gestures at those.
“Um, those are for today or tomorrow, those for, like, a couple days later. They’re not ripe yet.”
“Did you research that shit?” Sapnap asks, amused. George hums in affirmation. But you don’t even like those, he thinks, why would you do it? And then he thinks back to the breakfast, how it was filled with familiarity, how he felt he was witnessing something, and he thinks, Oh, and also thinks, Huh, and he thinks, Of course, and he doesn’t need to ask anything.
They cook lunch together. And dinner. George doesn’t make a single squeak about ordering a take-out, even being the McDonalds freak that he is. Who would, when they have Dream there to cook? As if to confirm his suspicions, George starts listing all the dishes he wants Dream to cook for him. Dream just says Yes to everything in the fondest voice ever. In the Patches voice. Sapnap hides a smirk behind his glass of lemonade.
They spend the evening together again, this time in Dream’s room, huddled on his gigantic bed. Before they built the house, Sapnap hasn’t ever seen a bed this size. It probably could fit two more people comfortably. For the three of them, it’s perfect. This time, George is in the middle, laptop sitting on his legs, and they’re nitpicking at the latest MCC update video, taking in all and any useful clues left in it. It quickly evolves into an argument over George’s unruliness during the latest Survival Games they shared, which involves arm-pinching and tickling and mocking voices, and just when it dies down, Sapnap adds oil to the fire by mentioning his own winning stats, and everything starts all over. Sapnap’s stomach hurts from all the laughing, and he feels so comfortable and warm like a giant cat near a fireplace, and he thinks about how he can have this forever.
When it’s after midnight and everyone starts yawning, he stands up, limbs tired and numb. Everyone mumbles a 'Goodnight' in unison. George doesn’t stand up. Sapnap pauses for a moment in the doorway, watching George take his phone to tap something into it as Dream reaches for the nightstand to grab one of his fancy skincare bottles, and the most surprising thing about all of that is how it doesn’t surprise him. It’s not weird that he leaves and George stays. It feels correct, it feels right. So he closes the door behind him, and gets into his own bed, and sends ‘Goodnight, idiots’ to Dream’s discord messages, and falls asleep smiling before getting a message back.
After a nice night’s sleep, Sapnap is the last to join the breakfast. Dream is plating food at the stove while George is sat at the table, studying – as far as Sapnap recognizes – the map of the nearest neighborhoods on his phone. Dream wishes him good morning, taking another plate from the cupboard. Bacon smells heavenly. He is just finishing telling George about the nice 24/7 store with the best cold coffee drinks when Dream finishes cooking. He puts a plate for himself, then for Sapnap, then for George. And when George looks up at him, eyes still a bit sleepy, Dream leans down and plants a short casual kiss against his lips before stepping back to the fridge.
Sapnap looks at George. George looks back at him, a smile that can be described as shy on his face.
To be completely fair, there are a lot of things Sapnap could say. Is it new, he can ask, but he suspects that neither ‘yes’ nor ‘no’ is a good answer to that. I fucking called it, he can laugh, because he did, first as a joke, and then not really. Congratulations, he can say, because isn’t this the sort of thing you congratulate on?
“Welcome home,” he says instead, a bit choked up. Because this feels like the last piece of George’s coming home, not a missing piece, just an extra one, fitting perfectly.
George looks taken aback for a moment before trying and completely failing to suppress the biggest, corniest smile stretching his lips. He lightly bumps his knee against Sapnap’s in a silent answer, a silent thank you, and he accepts it. Dream joins them, takes one look at each of their faces, and smiles too, a lopsided grin so dear to Sapnap’s heart.
The Dream Team house is finally complete.