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“Sapnap,” George drawls. His feet knock together, legs bent up at the knee as he lies stomach-down on Sapnap’s bed. He’s scrolling TikTok, volume obnoxiously loud despite the fact that Sapnap has told him like ten times to turn it down.
“George,” Sapnap replies. He’s flat on his back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, one AirPod in. The other is tucked into the case in his pocket so he can hear George’s occasional little giggles.
“It’s time,” George says, overly dramatic, rolling off the bed with an oof!
“Time?” Sapnap questions, for the sake of being annoying, even though he knows exactly what George is talking about.
“Time for you to stop being an idiot,” George says, glancing firmly down at an imaginary watch. “Oh, wait, that was rescheduled to never.”
“We have back to back appointments,” Sapnap says, sitting up and turning his music down.
“With Dream’s mother,” George snorts, kicking Sapnap’s ankle. “Get up, get up, get up.”
“I’m up,” Sapnap says, holding his hands out as if George will pull him up. He just slaps them, cat-like, laughing delightedly, so Sapnap stands up all on his own, pouting. “Where to, oh captain my captain?”
“The kitchen, my brave knight,” George says.
“That was not at all connected to my comment,” Sapnap says, following George out the door. “We’re in different universes, dude, you’re a hot pirate and I’m a hot knight, destined to never meet each other.”
“You’re a cold night,” George says. “A dark and stormy night.”
“Sounds mysterious,” Sapnap says. “And you know what that means? In romance novels if a guy is mysterious it means he’s hot, George.”
“You’re about as unmysterious as it can get.”
“That’s not a word, idiot.”
“Dismysterious. Antimysterious. Drantimysterious,” George says musingly. “You’re just obvious.”
“What does that even mean?” Sapnap scoffs, heart jumping nervously in his chest, rabbit-like. He goes rabbit-hearted a lot around George, chest pounding like it’s trying desperately to keep him alive, which. Well. Fair.
“You’re just obvious,” George shrugs.
“Okay, sure. We should go around the long way for no reason.” The long way round involves walking under the mistletoe that’s still hanging up in the archway leading to the kitchen. None of them have actually kissed under it, except for Dream kissing Sapnap’s forehead one time, and George’s twice, mostly to make fun of their heights, and then one time Sapnap insisted on dropping to one knee and kissing the back of George’s hand, mostly to be annoying. Mostly.
“No reason,” George deadpans. “If you want to kiss me you need to brush your teeth, and you won’t do that because it’s smoothie time.”
“Smoothie time!” Sapnap says happily. “If Dream’s taken the goods again I’m going to put him in the hospital.”
“You can have matching scars on your fingers,” George says, hopping up onto the counter and gazing at Sapnap expectantly
“Is today a lazy day?” Sapnap asks.
“You were the one who said you were my knight.”
“I wasn’t, actually, that was quite literally you. I said you were my captain.”
“Even better… what’s a good pirate term?”
“Landlubber,” Sapnap suggests, checking the blender to make sure it’s clean. They’re pretty meticulous with it, as evidenced by the sparkly silver blades.
“No, no, like… right hand man but way further down the line?”
“Isn’t it first mate? Right hand man is like, in the army.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m your first mate,” Sapnap grins. “We’re soulmates.”
“Okay, Dream,” George laughs.
“Dreamboat.”
“You’re not my first mate anyway, I said that. You’re way down the line. You’re scrubbing the poop deck.”
“Wow, okay,” Sapnap says, opening the fridge to get yoghurt out. “Do you wanna share today or do you want something different?”
“I want blueberries,” George decides. “Banana and blueberries, is that a thing?”
“I guess so,” Sapnap says. “Anything can be a thing if you want it to be. Whether or not it’s a good thing is another question.”
“I’m an entrepreneur,” George says. “I’m CEO of the humble blueberry. The humble bumblebee. Do you think it would be nice to put honey in the smoothie?”
“I don’t think it would mix very well. It would all clump at the bottom.”
“A tasty treat.”
“A sticky treat.”
“A sticky treat for StickyBoy69,” George grins.
“The man the myth the legend,” Sapnap says, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl. “One or two or what?”
“One,” George says. “I don’t want it to be too banana-ry. That would be bananas.”
“Okay, Karl,” Sapnap scoffs, grabbing a butter knife and a plate and slicing the banana into chunks.
“When I was younger my mum used to make banana and blueberry muffins sometimes,” George says. “They were nice. They had honey in them, I think. Honey and cinnamon.”
“Sounds nice. You should ask her for the recipe, we could try making them sometime.”
“Maybe,” George says. “Bosun.”
“Huh?”
“Bosun,” George repeats, reading off his phone. “‘The ship’s officer in charge of equipment and crew.’ You’re in charge of the smoothie.”
“Nice,” Sapnap says. “Bosun sounds kinda like buxom. If you — if you squint. Like, with your ears.”
“Well, that too as well, I guess,” George laughs. Sapnap sweeps the chopped banana into the blender and rummages around in the freezer for frozen blueberries.
“You wanna do your own blueberries?”
“I trust your judgement.”
“You wanna say when?”
“No, Sapnap, you just do it. Imagine if you went to a restaurant and ordered a smoothie and the waiter was like, oh how many blueberries do you want? Fifty seven? Okay, sure, and how many milligrams of banana?”
“If this a restaurant you’d better be paying me, bitch,” Sapnap says, tipping a decent amount of blueberries in, following it up with yoghurt and some water. “I’m turning it on!”
The blender is loud but efficient, so they’re not hindered for too long. Sapnap watches George kick his heels against the counter, head bobbing gently back and forth like he’s finding music amid the cacophony.
Sapnap flicks the blender off, finds a big cup, and tips the smoothie in. He presents it to George with a bow. “Your smoothie, sir.”
“That’s captain to you,” George says, taking a tentative sip. He raises his eyebrows, pulls his lips to the side. “Pretty good! I am a bit of a genius.”
“I made it.”
“I commissioned it.”
“You didn’t commission shit, dude, you paid me nothing. You just demanded it.”
“And you made it without fuss,” George grins.
“Yeah, well,” Sapnap says. He makes his own smoothie on autopilot — strawberries, banana, raspberries, yoghurt, water — and warns George again before blending it.
George grins at him, sipping his drink, and Sapnap forces himself to look away, examining the dappled pattern of the marble countertop. Once it’s blended, he pours the smoothie into a glass and then puts away all the ingredients. Often he and George will fight over what goes where, trying to sort the fridge in different ways, but George is still perched on the counter, legs kicking back and forth, a thin purplish streak of smoothie marring the pretty pink of his lips.
“You’ve got a moustache,” Sapnap says, jabbing his finger towards it, laughing as George shrieks, shrinking away to dodge the poke. “You’ve finally hit puberty, Georgie, congratulations.”
“Thank you, thank you,” George says. His thumb swipes across his lip and he licks it clean and Sapnap gulps down a mouthful of his smoothie to distract himself. “I should grow out my beard to annoy everyone, like Tommy did.”
“I’m telling Tommy that he’s your biggest inspiration, he’ll love that.”
“It’s true, it’s true, I admit it. My biggest desire is to be an annoying little idiot with blonde hair,” George says. “Wait, that’s just Dream! Oh my god, I’ve cracked the code. They’re brothers, your honour.”
“That’s such an old meme. Fitting for an old man, I guess.”
“I’m not old. You’re just an idiot. An idiot baby.”
“Okay, baby,” Sapnap grins.
George rolls his eyes. “Idiot.”
“I’m your idiot,” Sapnap says, putting on his pre-mcc role-play whine so it passes as a joke to disguise the fact that it’s drenched in truth.
“My idiot baby,” George says, mimicking him with a silly pout. “You love me soooo much.”
“Yeah,” Sapnap says. It’s far too sincere, far too genuine, far too obvious, but George’s face slips into a sweet smile before Sapnap can even panic.
“Yeah,” George echoes, soft. Sapnap can feel his face blooming pink; he hopes George can see it, embarrassing though it is.
“Yeah,” Sapnap says, again, but he can’t bring himself to care, not when George is looking at him like that, wide chocolate eyes shining, cheeks rosy, beaming bonfire bright.
“Do you wanna try my smoothie?” George asks, casual as anything. Sapnap feels fuzzy at the fact that it’s not a big deal, it just is, it’s just them.
“Sure,” Sapnap says. “Let me clean the blender first, before I forget.”
“Okay,” George says. Sapnap can feel his eyes on him as he rinses away the smoothie dregs, taking extra care to avoid the sharp blades because his hands are quivering a little. Once it’s clean, he sets it back in its place, and settles himself back in his place, gazing up at George.
“Have you completed your task, bosun?” George asks, formally. “Everything spick and span?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Alright then. Come here and I’ll give you your reward.”
“Imagine if you went to a restaurant and gave the waiter a taste of your food because they did a good job.”
“Imagine,” George says airily. “Closer. Closer!”
Sapnap ends up practically between George’s legs, and then George taps his feet against the back of Sapnap’s legs to force him even closer. Sapnap’s heart skitters around his chest.
“Are we Lady and the Tramp-ing it or something?” Sapnap jokes.
George quirks an eyebrow. “You want a taste of my smoothie?”
“Yes, George, I would like a taste of your smoothie. Please.”
“Alright,” George says, taking a slow sip.
Sapnap rolls his eyes, but then George sets his glass aside, and also takes Sapnap’s glass out of his stupidly pliant hand and sets it aside as well, and then he tucks his legs around Sapnap’s waist to pull him even closer, and at this point Sapnap’s heart is a rabid animal trying to tear its way out of his chest, and there’s another dot of purple smoothie adorning George’s plush lips, and Sapnap is close enough now to see a couple of small cracks in the soft pink, and he can also see all of George’s pale, smattered freckles, sprinkled over the smooth skin under his eyes like cocoa powder over the milky froth of a hot chocolate.
George’s hands brush his shoulders, snake around his neck, pull Sapnap even fucking closer.
“George,” Sapnap says, throat sandstorm dry and windswept.
“Sapnap,” George replies, annoyingly put-together.
And then he’s leaning in, eyes fluttering shut, head tilting, and then he says, “Are you gonna take your taste?” and Sapnap can feel the breath of the words warm against his lips. He closes the gap. It’s barely anything, a fraction of an inch, but it’s him who presses their lips together.
George’s lips are soft and sweet against his, and that’s all he manages to gather before he’s pulling back, feeling so dizzy he thinks he might faint.
“Well?” George says. His ankles are hooked together behind Sapnap, holding him in place.
“Holy shit,” Sapnap says. There’s a loopy grin on his face, no doubt, but George’s cheeks are flushed and he’s smiling as well, even as he tries to remain serious.
“Is it good?”
“So good,” Sapnap says. “So good I’m gonna — I’m gonna need another taste.”
“Okay,” George says, grabbing his glass and offering it innocently to Sapnap.
“You fucking suck,” Sapnap laughs, but he lets George bring the glass to his lips and tilts his head to take a sip. It’s not quite as sweet as their usual, the blueberries adding a tangy touch, but it’s sweet and cool and refreshing. “It’s good. You’re goated, George. Goated with the sauce. The smoothie. Whatever. Holy fuck, dude.”
“Holy fuck indeed,” George says, mocking him a bit, but Sapnap is too happy and frazzled to care. Especially so because George still has a forearm resting on his shoulder, fingers moving to tangle through the slight curls that are starting to grow back in, peeking out from under his cap. “I wanna try yours.”
He sets the purple smoothie down in favour of the pink, holding it to Sapnap’s lips again and tugging lightly on his hair to help him tip his head back for a sip.
He fusses with setting the glass back down, and then tightens the grip of his legs, and then that of his arms, and then he’s leaning in. He pauses again, and Sapnap tries to close the distance but George dodges back, laughing, and the noise resounds golden in Sapnap’s chest, even as he complains, “What the hell, dude.”
“Shhhhh,” George says. “You’re so demanding. Also, stop calling me dude, bro.”
“What should I call you, then?”
“Your royal highness,” George grins.
“I’m not calling you that, idiot.”
“I’m sure you can figure something out, idiot. Now shhhh. Shut up.”
“You shut me up, then,” Sapnap retorts. He’s immensely pleased when George does, indeed, shut him up.
The kiss is slower and longer than their first, George’s lips firm and determined against his, yet plush and soft with care. He pulls away and Sapnap tries to chase him, but George dodges again, bringing a finger to Sapnap’s lips and screeching when he tries to bite it.
“Hey, hey, hold on a sec, idiot. You waited too long and the flavour is gone,” George says, fumbling for the pink glass again. It clinks painfully against Sapnap’s teeth as George pushes it towards his mouth, and he groans and grumbles through George’s apologies.
“Here, here, I’ll kiss it better,” George says, pressing a kiss to the corner of Sapnap’s mouth, and then another, more centred this time. Sapnap’s face is so warm it feels like all of George’s touches and kisses are lit by sparklers, fizzing bright as sunshine against his skin, trailing cursive S+G through the air like some dumbass teenager carving initials into a school desk, or like, a tree, or whatever the fuck. Sapnap is too preoccupied to think of similes.
“It still hurts,” he pouts.
“Shhh,” George says. “Take a sip, I wanna know what the smoothie tastes like.”
“George, we make this smoothie like every other day. You’ve had it a billion times before.”
“Maybe the ratios are different, though,” George reasons.
“L + Ratio,” Sapnap says, automatically.
“Exactly. Take a sip.”
“I feel like you’re poisoning me,” Sapnap complains, quieting down to take an obedient sip, letting the sweet mouthful sit on his tongue for a second before swallowing it and leaning in. George’s hands are soft on his shoulders even as his lips press hard against Sapnap’s.
George’s tongue darts hot and wet across Sapnap’s lips and he just barely manages to muffle a moan before George taking is advantage of his slack mouth to slip his tongue inside, licking across his teeth before pulling back with a small sigh. Sapnap squeezes his grip on George’s waist in complaint.
“Hmm,” George says. “Sweet, yet idiotic. Interesting. Five stars. Stop pinching me, idiot, it hurts.”
“I hate you,” Sapnap says, sounding stupid happy as George’s hands retreat to settle on top of Sapnap’s, small and fierce as they try to prise him away.
“You love me,” George says, giving up with a light tap. “It’s epic.”
“You love me,” Sapanp counters, certain.
“It’s epic,” George repeats. “You know what’s less epic? Sitting on a counter for twenty years while your boyfriend fails to make you a smoothie. Let’s go back to your room.”
“Boyfriend?” Sapnap questions. “Also I literally didn’t fail, you enjoyed it. You enjoyed every little bit of it, bitch.”
“Don’t bitch me, bitch. And yes. I decided.”
“You decided we were boyfriends,” Sapnap says, amused, letting George push him lightly away so he can hop down.
“I did,” George says. “Carry me upstairs.”
“I can’t carry you and the smoothies, dumbass.”
“Don’t dumbass me, dumbass.”
“I’ll baby you, baby,” Sapnap says. “I can carry you and then come back for the smoothies if you want.”
“No, no, we need to stay close together. Just in case,” George says definitively, taking hold of both smoothies and taking a quick sip from each in turn.
“Just in case,” Sapnap says.
“Just in case,” George confirms. “Let’s go the long way round.”