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George is woken up by a loud banging on his door. Before he can open his eyes or yell a bleary fuck off! his room is being infiltrated. He’s immediately crushed by someone flopping down on top of him.
He blinks his eyes open, catching Dream’s gaze. He’s hovering in the doorway with a fond smile on his face. George glares at him.
“I was sleeping,” he groans.
“I don’t care,” Sapnap sings, wriggling wildly. He rolls off George, propping himself up on an elbow to stare at him with the same stupid grin that Dream has, the kind that definitely isn’t creeping up on George’s face right now. “Guess what day it is.”
“I know what day it is,” George says. “Stupid idiot day. Well done. You’ve proved yourselves champions. Now be quiet or leave, I’m going back to sleep. I have better dreams to deal with.”
“I didn’t even do anything! I was trying to stop him, I swear,” Dream pouts.
“He’s lying,” Sapnap says. “He’s the one that wanted to wake you up, he was just too pussy to do it.”
“I just wanted to see if you were awake yet! I wasn’t going to wake up up, I was just going to check on you. But now that you are… you could stay up… maybe…”
“No,” George says, rolling over so his back is to Sapnap.
“Come on, bitch,” Sapnap says, flopping his arm over George’s side and wriggling close to him. He breathes out a deliberately annoying breath directly into George’s ear before pressing a kiss to the soft skin just under it. George squeaks, struggling to break free of Sapnap’s grip so he can retaliate.
“Come on now, stop fighting, today is not a day for fighting,” George hears Dream say. He ignores him, and so does Sapnap — George redoubles his efforts to free his arm enough to elbow Sapnap, who has manoeuvred them so George is partially on top of him, their legs entangled together.
“It’s not a day for fightin’, Gogy,” Sapnap drawls, voice low-pitched so only George can hear it. “It’s a day for lovin’.” He starts making wet kissy-noises right next to George’s ear.
“Get off me, idiot!” George laughs, giving up on fighting and instead trying to wriggle free. “Dream, help me!”
“No,” Dream says, smirking and leaning against the doorframe. George glares at him as Sapnap slips his arm up into a chokehold.
“Fine, fine,” George says, slapping his hand against Sapnap’s bicep. “I give up, you’re so big and strong. And big.”
Sapnap presses another kiss to George’s neck before letting him go. George scrambles out of the bed, smoothing down his clothes and sending another glare towards Dream. Dream’s looking at him so soft, though, and the expression melts off his face.
“Good morning,” Dream says. There’s a smear of white powder across his shirt, another swiped across his faintly freckled cheek.
“Well, it was until you woke me up,” George huffs. “You have, like, cocaine all over you.”
“What? It’s not cocaine, it’s flour, idiot.”
“It’s definitely cocaine,” Sapnap says. He’s lounging on George’s bed, hands tucked behind his head. “You should get changed into clean clothes, both of you, right now. It’s important for the health and wellbeing of the household.”
“Creep,” George laughs. “Why don’t you have cocaine on you, huh?”
“He’s lazy,” Dream says.
“I was doing other important things, like keeping Patchy distracted so she didn’t walk all over the countertop and destroy everything. You’re welcome.”
“What did you make?” George asks, rooting through the shirts drawer of his dresser. It’s a blur of blue and yellow and adjacent shades to him, which makes finding the shirt he wants harder that it would be if he just asked Dream to get it. Dream could probably sniff the shirt out, or something, knowing him. “Muffins?”
Sapnap promptly bursts into song. It’s definitely annoying rather than endearing.
“Are you guys good to come downstairs now?” Dream yells over the caterwauling.
“Fine,” George says. He flicks through the shirts again. He hasn’t lost it, has he? Just as he’s about to ask one of his boyfriends for help, he spots the bubbly font of Japanese characters he can’t read. He tugs it out and sets it on top of the pile. “You guys go, I need to get changed.”
“Fine,” Sapnap says, mimicking George’s fake exasperation. “See you in the kitchen.”
“Be quick or it’ll get cold,” Dream adds. The door closes behind them.
George changes quickly, shucking off sweatpants in favour of different sweatpants, wriggling out of the hoodie he’d stolen from Dream, which hangs halfway down his thighs and exposes at least one of his collarbones at any given moment. He pulls the pink milk t-shirt on, grinning to himself.
He wouldn’t call himself a romantic — of the three of them, he’s almost definitely the least romantic, as confirmed by the fact that both Dream and Sapnap seem to have made plans for today, whereas the only thing on his to-do list was to get as many kisses as possible — but he feels kind of fuzzy when he thinks about what day it is.
He’s never really had a Valentine before, and never much felt like he was missing out, but the tingling warmth that he feels every day is more intense today, and he’s filled with giddy excitement, tinged with only the slightest amount of guilt that he hasn’t done anything or gotten anything for them.
Before he can let himself slip down that road, though, he thinks of something he can give them something he knows they’ll cherish, and his smile picks up practically before it ever left.
He trots down to the kitchen, meeting Patches on the stairs and scooping her up to carry her down. Dream is busy at the table, while Sapnap rummages around in the cabinets.
“Are you sure we even have fancy glasses, dude? I can’t find them anywhere,” Sapnap says. He’s up on his tippytoes, like an idiot.
“Yes, we do, I literally bought them this weekend. I put them… I did put them in the kitchen, I know I did. I know I did! Where else would they be?”
“Goddamn anywhere knowing you, babe,” Sapnap says. “Office, maybe? Did you leave them in the car?”
“Look up high,” George interrupts. “You probably wanted to hide them from us, so they’ll be in one of the top cupboard. Get a chair, Sap, or let Bigfoot deal with it.”
“You know what they say about big feet,” Sapnap says. “Hi, Georgie. I like your shirt.”
“I know you do,” George says, accepting Sapnap’s hug, slinging his arms over his shoulders while Sapnap squeezes him around his waist. “That’s why I wore it.”
“Pretty boy,” Sapnap whispers, nuzzling his nose against George’s neck. “My pretty boy.”
“Mhm,” George murmurs. “And you’re mine. Happy Valentine’s.”
“Is this my present? The shirt?”
He seems content, merely curious, but George still hastens to say, “I can shout you next time we go out. Or you can pick out some chocolates. I’ve never had a date for valentines day and neither of you mentioned much beforehand so I wasn’t sure —”
“It’s fine, George, it’s fine. I didn’t get anything either. I’m pretty sure Dream did, because he needs to overcompensate. Our presence is enough of a gift, Georgie.” Sapnap presses a kiss to his neck, and one to his cheek, and pulls away.
Dream has located the fancy glasses and is setting them onto the table. It seems to be the final touch, because he turns to them with a flourish and a grin.
“Breakfast!” he announces. He gives George a soft kiss as Sapnap sits down, and George tugs him closer, hands fisted in his denim jacket, savouring the taste of strawberries as he nips at Dream’s lower lip before lifting the back of his hand to kiss it, admiring the way his smile widens.
Their fingers tangle together as they sit down, taking their usual seats, George opposite Dream and next to Sapnap. He usually gets the middle, both of them wanting make up for lost time. Though they hadn’t started dating till George arrived in Florida, they’d all had a silent understanding about it, brought up only in the delirious parts of all-night calls, confessions hidden behind giggly jokes.
George is too preoccupied with examining Dream’s smile to notice the meal at first. Dream squeezes his hand and pointedly stares down at it, so George follows his gaze.
Three pancakes are stacked onto George’s plate, golden brown and heart-shaped.
He glances over at Dream’s, which look more like beans and squashed ovals than hearts. Sapnap’s form a middle ground, his hearts requiring a few careful cuts to be properly shaped.
“Do you like them?” Dream asks. His hand being ensnared in George’s prevents him from nervous fidgeting, so his thumb rubs circles onto George’s hand instead.
“They’re epic,” George grins. He points towards the top one on Dream’s stack and adds, “That one looks kind of like Patches. There are her ears, there’s a whisker. You’re an artistic genius.”
“Okay, well, sorry I’m not immediately perfect at everything like you, George.” Dream rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.
“How long did it take?” George asks.
“A couple of hours, I think. I put the real failures in the fridge to have some other time. Turns out heart shapes are not very easy to make. The strawberries were easier, though!” Dream nudges a bowl towards George. It’s full to the brim with sliced strawberries, triangles carved out of the top to make them into hearts.
“Cute,” George says. “Are you gonna post something somewhere or is this just for us?”
“I don’t mind,” Dream says.
“Just for us, then, let’s gatekeep,” George says, fishing his phone out to snap a couple of pictures — Dream’s hand holding his, his and Sapnap’s heart-shaped pancakes and Dream’s distinctly-not-heart-shaped pancakes, the bowl of cut strawberries. He picks out a few strawberries and arranges them on his stack, taking another photo and sending it to Karl.
“Okay,” Dream says. “We have whipped cream and syrup and Nutella. And strawberries, obviously. Pick your poison.”
George’s phone dings. It’s Karl, replying to him with a screenshot of his messages with Sapnap — a picture of Dream at the stove, gazing just above the camera with an expectant smile, an expression George knows means that Sapnap called Dream’s name, or more likely some dumb pet name, just so Dream would turn and smile at him.
Under it, from Sapnap:
i have a housewife/sugar daddy boyfriend and an eye candy/comp sci grad boyfriend and you’ve got nobody L
happy valentines fiance love u
Karl’s response:
:( love u <3
To George, Karl adds, you guys hate me :(
Laughing, George sends back an L and a heart emoji — a purple one, he thinks, though he’s not certain.
“Who are you talking to?” Dream asks.
“No one,” George says, to be annoying.
“It’s Karl,” Sapnap says, shaking the can of whipped cream. “Right?”
“Yeah,” George admits, putting his phone away. “Just making sure he knows he’s got no rizz.”
“Up top,” Sapnap says, holding out the can in lieu of a proper high five. George slaps his hand onto it and proceeds to try and wrestle it out of his grip. He manages to by seizing it with both hands and yanking so hard he nearly topples backwards when he finally gets it.
He steadies himself, crowing with laughter.
“Come on, give it back, I had it first,” Sapnap says, making grabby hands.
“Dream,” George says. “Would you like some whipped cream on your pancakes, darling?”
“Yes, thank you dear,” Dream says.
“I don’t think I’ve ever used one of these before,” George remarks, shaking the can. He leans across the table, angling the nozzle towards the plate.
“Careful, careful,” Dream says, grabbing his wrist. “If you squeeze it like that it’s gonna go all over your fingers.”
“He can just lick it off,” Sapnap suggests.
“Use the little bump on the side, idiot,” Dream says, poking his finger into place.
George squeezes an experimental dot, yelping a little as it rushes out, swirling slightly.
“Ignore that, ignore that. Uh, scrape it off. Or spread it out. Yeah, like that. Give me a nice blank canvas. Good, good. Good boy.”
Sapnap had been occupied with drowning his own pancakes in both syrup and Nutella, but his head snaps up at the words. “Good boy, Dreamie.”
“Shut up,” Dream mutters, setting the knife down.
“Close your eyes,” George instructs.
“If you squirt me with whipped cream I will not be happy,” Dream warns.
“Why don’t you trust me, baby?” George pouts. Dream rolls his eyes before shutting them.
George tugs Dream’s plate towards him, shaking the can again. He works slowly and carefully, letting the cream layer a bit so there’ll be enough to taste good rather than it just being for decoration. It’s a little wiggly, but the shape is clear. He grabs the knife to clean up the dodgier areas, and holds it out for Sapnap to lick clean.
“Can I have the cream now?” Sapnap asks, snatching it before George can even offer it.
“Can I open my eyes?” Dream says.
“One sec,” George says, twisting the plate around so the design is facing Dream. “Okay, you can open them.”
Dream’s eyelashes flutter unfairly as he blinks his eyes open, lips automatically curving into a smile as he looks at George. A steady shh noise emerges as Sapnap squeezes out a thick spiral of cream onto his pancake. He notices George watching and starts drawing a dick.
“George,” Dream says, drawing his attention back. “You’re so cute.”
“You’re just an idiot,” George huffs, but he’s smiling as he looks at the heart he drew on the pancakes. It looks even dodgier upside down, but George can tell by Dream’s smile that he doesn’t care that it’s not perfect.
“I love you,” Dream says, easy as ever, grabbing some strawberries and placing them methodically around the inside of the heart.
“Epic,” George says.
“Do you want some lemonade?” Dream asks, already pouring some out into one of the ornate glasses. It looks… weird, not like lemonade at all, if George is honest, and he squints suspiciously at it.
“It’s pink,” Sapnap says, before he can ask. “Strawberry lemonade. Does it still look like piss to you?”
“It’s kind of bluish, actually,” George says. “Like mouthwash but super diluted, like someone’s used it and spat it back out.”
“Well, it’s not used mouthwash,” Dream says.
“You should’ve served it in those little paper cups you spit into at the dentist,” George says.
“Well, I didn’t,” Dream says. “I bought these fancy champagne glasses, but yeah, sure, I can go grab some paper cups like we’re at a college party or something.”
“Like we’re at the dentist,” Sapnap corrects, dumping a handful of strawberries onto his stack. “Nothing says love like a stranger groping your teeth.”
“I mean…” George says. “Kind of. Ideally not a stranger, but you do what you gotta do, you know.”
“Do you want cream?” Dream asks, overly sweet, completely ignoring their important debate.
“Yes. I want to do it though, I’ve never sprayed canned cream before.”
“You literally just did,” Dream says.
“I want to do it again. I’m milking it,” he grins.
“That doesn’t even make sense, dude,” Sapnap says.
“You don’t even make sense, bro,” George retorts. “Fine, Dream, you can give me a little cream heart. I kind of miss when I didn’t know what you look like, I was so much better at resisting you.”
Dream grins, pulling George’s plate closer so he can squeeze the whipped cream onto it. Rather than doing a single big outline, like George did, he does lots of little ones, two small lines joining at a point.
“They’re like little butterflies,” Geogre says, trying not to sound too enamoured. “A school of butterflies!”
“If you ripped their bottom wings off, maybe,” Sapnap says, through a mouthful of strawberry-syrup-nutella-cream-pancake abomination. “Also it’s definitely not a school of butterflies, right? You just made that up. It’s like, a murder or something. A battalion.”
“Dunno,” George says. “Is that actually good or do you just not want to admit that you bit off more than you could chew?”
“It’s good,” Sapnap says. “I just have superior tastebuds. I can handle many flavours without my mouth freaking out.”
“Oh, yeah?” George smirks. Sapnap rolls his eyes and offers George a forkful. He opens his mouth hesitantly. It’s not as bad as he expected — the syrup and the Nutella definitely clash, making the whole thing way too sweet, but he chews and swallows with no problem.
“Here,” Dream says, pushing George’s plate back to him. “Eat before it gets cold.”
George scoops out a spoonful of Nutella and drizzles it over the pancake, taking care to avoid ruining the hearts, creating a twisting pattern. He offers the spoon to Sapnap, making a nyoom sound as he pokes it into his mouth.
The pancakes are good, soft and sweet, and the smiles and laughter both of his boyfriend’s give him are ever softer and even sweeter, so George is pretty happy all round, well-fed and warm.
When they’re done, Dream refuses help with cleaning up, so Sapnap and George dip the strawberry hearts in Nutella and feed each other, mostly as a joke, but only mostly. Patches trots over, curious, and with permission from Dream they give her the last couple of slices. It turns out there’s some Nutella accidentally smeared on George’s lips, which Sapnap takes it upon himself to remove in the most efficient way possible, which is obviously exuberantly kissing George. They top up their champagne glasses and swill it around, sniffing at it and commenting on the texture and taste and smoky undertones. They squeeze globs of whipped cream into each others mouth with increasingly lewd jokes.
“Okay,” Dream says eventually, taking the can from Sapnap and holding it up so neither of them can reach it. “I’ve cleaned up. You want your presents now or are you gonna keep being idiots?”
“We could keep being idiots and you’d still give us shit,” Sapnap points out.
“Okay, whatever. They’re in my room, so you two get comfy on the couch while I go grab them. Don’t start making out, please, it’ll distract my plans.”
“Of course not, babe,” Sapnap says.
“We’d never do something so crass, Dream, who do you take us for,” George says, mock-offended.
They end up making out pretty much immediately. In their defence, it’s pretty funny, and also it’s Valentine’s day. They keep it fairly chaste, at least, George resisting the temptation to sink his teeth in, instead pulling back every so often to pepper kisses to Sapnap’s cheeks.
“I gave you guys one job,” Dream says as he comes back in, a white gift bag hanging from his hand.
“We got bored,” George says, shuffling off Sapnap so they can sit up.
“Sure, sure,” Dream says, sitting down on the other section of the L-shaped couch. He tips the contents of the bag onto the place where the segments intersect. It’s three small boxes, square and fairly flat, the fabric silky and dark blue with shiny gold lining. The kind of boxes that contain jewellery, easy to snap open even with nervously shaking hands.
“What the fuck,” Sapnap says, eloquent, and perfectly describing George’s internal monologue. “What the fuck?”
“What?” Dream asks, guarded and slight confused.
“We’ve been dating for like three months, dude,” Sapnap says, reaching out to cautiously poke one of the boxes as if it’s a dangerous spider.
“Four months two weeks from now, actually,” Dream says. George rolls his eyes, as if he didn’t have the exact same words on the tip of his tongue.
Seemingly satisfied the box isn’t going to poison him, Sapnap grabs it and peeks inside it. George waits, breath caught in his throat — Sapnap bursts out laughing. He tilts the box towards George, but Dream snatches it before he can see inside.
“Stop ruining my gift!” he says. “I need to present them, come on now.”
“You should get down on one knee,” Sapnap says.
“What?”
“These are fucking ring boxes, dude! And you got three of them! What were we meant to think?”
“Oh,” Dream says, eyes widening. “Ah. Well, they’re not ring boxes, to be clear. Because neither of you really wear rings, so I thought I’d get you something else instead — I’m kidding, I’m kidding. When I propose it’s not gonna be some shitty ceremony on our couch.”
“When I propose it will be,” Sapnap says.
“You’ll ask us over vc, mid Valorant game,” George says. “And when we say no you’ll use your anger and sadness to propel you to Immortal rank.”
“I’m not saying no,” Dream says. “Neither are you.”
“Are you gonna manhandle me into marriage, Dream?”
“I won’t have to,” Dream says. “Anyway, stop changing the subject. I have gifts. Non-ring-related gifts. Sapnap’s already seen it so George gets to go first. I don’t really have a speech prepared, but —”
“Because you’ll be proposing to two people, you’ll have to get down on both knees,” George says. “Wait, sorry, sorry. Go on, I just had that thought and I figured it was important to share.”
“By that logic Sapnap should propose, given how much he likes getting on his knees,” Dream grins.
“Shut the fuck up, dude,” Sapnap says. “Propose already! Or present, or whatever the hell you said.”
“Okay, okay. George, even though we’ve only been dating for three and a half months, I’ve known you for seven years, and getting closer to you over those years has been one of my favourite things. I’ve said it before, but you truly are the light in the room. You’re funny and smart and kind and so so loving. I love it when you’re excited about something and your whole body lights up with it. And sometimes it’s something big, like a subscriber milestone, but you get just as hyped up about little things like a cool rock or a funny sign, and I love how endeared you are about everything. We’ve been through a lot to get here, but now we’re together, physically and romantically —”
“And sexually,” Sapnap butts in. “That’s important to note.”
“Physically and romantically,” Dream pointedly continues, “And I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, and it’s been a delight to know you more and get even closer, and I’m so excited for the future. Like, no matter what happens, because I know I’ll have you and that’s what matters. Both of you, to be clear. So um, yeah. I love you a lot, being with you makes me so stupidly happy, and I love you. I bought these necklaces, they’re all matching, and they’re subtle enough that we can wear them wherever. So yeah! I really hope you like it.”
He cracks open one of the boxes and takes out the necklace. The chain is thin and gold, a round pendant hanging from it. “They’re all the same in terms of sizing. If you want I can go and get the chains adjusted, or anything like that. Here, lean forward so I can fasten it.”
George leans towards Dream, who clasps the necklace, running his fingers along its length. The pendant rests a couple of inches below George’s clavicle, easy to hide under a shirt or hoodie. For now, though, it’s on display atop the pink shirt.
“Let me do my Sapnap speech and then I’ll show you the details, okay?” Dream says, tapping the pendant.
“Kiss first,” George says. Dream leans in immediately, kissing George softly before pulling away, fingers brushing over his cheeks.
“My speech better be just as cute,” Sapnap warns.
“They’re not prepared, I’m just saying shit. Uh, Sapnap. You’re kind of a bitch but alright sometimes I guess. I like how we’re together sexually, the other stuff is worth suffering through,” Dream grins, before his smile becomes softer. “In all seriousness, Sapnap, I’ve known you for basically a decade, which is literally insane to think about. We were just dumb kids and now we’ve got millions of subscribers and you’ve been with me the whole time and there’s no one else I’d rather have by my side. You’re the most loyal person I know and I know that no matter what I’ll always have you. You came to live with me on a day’s notice, you always know exactly how to calm me down or cheer me up, you’re literally the living embodiment of safety and comfort. You’re like home to me, and I love you so so much. So much,” Dream says. George leans back so Dream has room to lean forward and fasten the necklace around Sapnap’s neck.
“I love you too, dude,” Sapnap says softly, fingers loosely gripping Dream’s wrists.
“Don’t dude me when I’ve just given you a whole speech,” Dream huffs.
“Sorry, babe. Sugar. Cutiepie. Puppydog,” Sapnap grins, lifting up the pendant. “So what’s all this then?”
“Okay, so,” Dream begins, taking the third necklace out of the box. “So the outside is pretty plain, there’s a tiny heart on the back but it’s hard to notice unless you’re looking. But they open up, there’s a little button on the top, see?”
They all pop open the necklaces, George half expecting a lock of hair to fall out.
“So, our initials are engraved on one side, with little gems around it."
George brushes his thumb over the engravings. Their letters — G, S, D — are written in swirling cursive, interconnecting.
“What the fuck,” Sapnap says, again, blinking heavily. “Why are you like this. You know what I said to George earlier? I was like, our mere presence is enough of a gift. And then you come out with this shit, and it’s so sweet and pretty and well-thought out and probably horrifically expensive. I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” Dream grins. “And it’s fine, gift giving is my love language, or whatever. I didn’t expect anything from you, I just wanted to get something nice.”
“You’ll get something nice later, you can be assured of that,” Sapnap says, taking the final necklace from Dream. His hands are shaking a little and he struggles to fasten it around Dream’s neck. George nudges his hands aside and uses his superior dexterity to attach the clasp.
“Thank you,” Dream says softly. George presses a kiss to his cheek and settles back onto the couch, shuffling sideways and patting the space between him and Sapnap. Dream settles into it, Sapnap immediately draping himself over him. “And then there’s the gems. There’s one for each of our colours, but they’re also each of our birthstones, which I thought was kind of cool. So aquamarine is March for you, Sap, and blue for you, George, this red one is spinel, which is one of August’s birthstones — it has three, for some reason — and then the green one is topaz, George’s birthstone. Usually they’re yellow but they also come in green, it’s just a lot rarer. Though I guess you see it as yellow anyway, George. Still, I thought it was cool. So, yeah! Happy Valentine’s Day! I love you guys a lot.”
“I love you guys,” George teases, putting on his best Dream voice, twisting in place and laying his legs over Dream and Sapnap’s laps to soften his joking tone. “This is so epic. You’re whipped. You’re head over heels. We have so much Rizz, Sapnap. This is epic.”
“RizzNotFound,” Dream says. “Wait, that doesn’t work. GeorgeRizzFound.”
Sapnap takes hold of George’s ankles, brushing his thumb along the edge of his sweatpants. He seems to have lost all capacity for speech. George leans over to look at him. He’s gazing at the opened locket, tilting it gentle back and forth like he’s admiring the way the light hits it. His eyes are very shiny, the green George that sees as piss-yellow when he’s annoyed and golden when he’s endeared — like right now — nearly spilling over.
“Don’t cry, kitten, that would be cringe,” George says softly.
Sapnap laughs, breathless, and a single tear slips over and trickles silver down his cheek. Dream brushes it carefully away.
“You okay, Pandas?” he asks softly.
“I’m just really happy,” Sapnap says. “I love you so much. This is like… it’s like… this might sound kinda dumb but like, I just kind of realised properly that you like, love me. Like I thought I knew that you did but I guess I kind of doubted it, maybe, but like… this is just so special and thoughtful and I just — I really really love you.” He gives another wet giggle.
Dream silently squeezes him tighter and George retracts his legs so Dream can pull Sapnap into his lap, and George drapes himself over both of them, pressing several loud kisses to the tops of their heads.
“I’m sorry,” Sapnap mumbles.
“You’re fine,” George says, tucking his finger under Sapnap’s chin so he can lift it from where he’s burrowed into Dream’s shoulder and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“I’m sorry you didn’t feel loved till now, but I’m glad you finally realised,” Dream says.
“I didn’t not feel loved, I just— this just, like, solidified it. I’m the luckiest person ever, I swear to god.”
“No, that’s me, I have two hunk boyfriends and a cat,” George counters, adding nonsensically, “I’m like Barbie.”
“We’re all the luckiest,” Dream, ever the peace-maker, says. “Do you need a minute to cry, Pandas?”
“No, I’m fine,” Sapnap says, muffled against Dream’s denim jacket.
“I’m gonna go get a glass of water for you,” George says, kissing his head and ruffling his hair before hopping off the couch. “You guys pick a movie.”
In the kitchen, he grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge and puts it in his pocket before filling up three glasses with the remaining pink lemonade — there’s only about half a glass each, but he figures it’s fine. The lower liquid level makes it easier to carry all three glasses without worrying about them spilling.
“Your lemonade, sirs,” George says, settling them on the coffee table. “And some water for you, Sappy.”
Dream takes the bottle and unscrews it, before nudging Sapnap up. Sapnap turns around, slipping off Dream’s lap to curl in beside him as he chugs the water.
“What’re we watching?” George asks, settling in on Sapnap’s other side. The screen is just as blank as it was when he left.
“Something dumb, so we can talk during it,” Sapnap says.
“A romcom?” Dream suggests.
“Ew,” George says. “No. I don’t need to see straight people gallivanting around on the day of love.”
“Gallivanting,” Sapnap snickers. “Day of love.” He drags out the love to an obnoxious degree.
“There are gay romcoms, George,” Dream says.
“Name one,” George says.
“Um. That Christmas one with the girl from Twilight in it.”
“You can’t name it,” George points out, victorious.
“Batman,” Sapnap says.
George snorts. “Fine. We can watch Batman.”
“I don’t know if that’s an appropriate Valentine’s Day movie,” Dream says. He’s the one currently holding the remote, which George finds worrying.
“Says the guy who suggested a Christmas movie.”
“I wasn’t suggesting it, I was answering your question!”
“About the type of movie you suggested. Look, we’ve all seen Batman, we all like Batman, we can all ogle Robert Pattinson and you guys can ogle the cat lady as well. It’s a winning situation all round. The other option is watching a horror movie so Sap gets all scared and snuggly.”
Dream lights up at the last suggestion, but Sapnap quickly shuts it down, saying, “If you make me watch a horror movie on fucking Valentine’s day I’ll cut your dicks off.”
“No you won’t,” George says.
“Okay, I won’t,” Sapnap admits. “Still, we aren’t watching a horror movie today. Some other time maybe but not right now when I’m already emotionally vulnerable.”
“I’m holding you to that,” George says, as Dream gets the movie up.
“Do we need snacks?” Sapnap asks.
“George, there’s chips in the pantry,” Dream says.
“That’s interesting.”
“Go and get them, idiot.”
George huffs but detaches himself from Sapnap, returning a few minutes later with two packets of crisps. He tears both open and sets them next to the lemonade glasses on the coffee table, which he drags closer to the couch for easier access. He takes a swig of lemonade to reward his efforts. The movie is paused on the logos, and Dream presses play as George is settling back in next to Sapnap with a handful of crisps. Sapnap slips an arm around his waist and George tucks his leg over one of Sapnap’s, rubbing his socked foot against his bare calf till Sapnap tells him to stop, giggling.
George takes one of his crisps and taps it against Sapnap’s lips.
Sapnap makes an ahh! noise and George twirls the crisp around a bit, flapping his lips in some sort of helicopter/plane impression before crash-landing it into Sapnap’s mouth. He chews noisily.
“You guys are gross,” Dream says. His arm lays over Sapnap’s shoulders, his hand resting on the back of George’s neck, and he squeezes lightly to emphasise his point.
“No we’re not,” George says, shrugging his shoulders up in a halfhearted attempt to shake him off.
“I bet this guy freaking dies,” Sapnap says, as if they haven’t already seen this movie.
“I’ll give you a kiss if he does,” Dream says, grinning.
George rolls his eyes. “I bet there’s a bit where Batman crashes into an overpass like an absolute idiot.”
“I’ll give you a kiss if he does,” Dream says dutifully.
“I’ll give you a kiss without it being a bet, Georgie,” Sapnap says, leaning over to press his lips to the corner of George’s mouth to prove it. “Because I love you.”
“I love you,” Dream begins, affronted and defensive, retracting his arm so he can lean forward like he always does when he’s about to make an impassioned speech.
“I love you,” George announces, to shut him up. He’s only said it a handful of times throughout the years that he’s known them; a couple since they made things official. It’s easier for him to show love, rather than say it, the words getting caught in his throat whenever he tries. He grins, eyes glued on the tv but taking in nothing, distracted by the feeling two pairs of eyes burning against his skin. He turns to them as he says it again, softer, “I love you.”
Dream reaches across to take his hand, letting them rest on Sapnap’s leg. “Love you too, Georgie. So much.”
Sapnap brushes another kiss to the corner of George’s smiling mouth and tilts his head onto George’s shoulder.
“I like it when you say that,” Sapnap whispers.
“I know,” George says, continuing half-jokingly, “That’s why I keep it for special occasions.”
“Mhm. I love you too.” Sapnap’s voice is soft, his giggles even softer.
“I know, idiot,” George says. He doesn’t even have to try to make his voice sound fond. The insult drips out of his mouth like maple syrup, golden and sickly sweet.
George squeezes Dream’s hand and lolls his head against Sapnap’s, savouring the warmth of their closeness. The taste of strawberry lemonade is bright on his lips. As far as Valentine’s Days go, he thinks this one was pretty hard to beat, though he’s sure they’ll figure something out next year.