Archive of Our Own

George blinks an eye open slowly, confused by why he’s woken up, his head still hurts from earlier, and he doesn’t feel as though he’s gotten much rest at all. Sighing, he shifts position, attempting to try and fall back asleep. Just as he’s starting to drift back away, a sharp screeching noise attacks his ears.

George rolls over in bed, groaning in annoyance and frustration as metal scrapes against each other. He scoffs into the air in disbelief. Glaring at his wall where he imagines his two neighbors to be on the other side of. The noise is a constant disruption. Always early in the mornings, aka during the time he’s trying to sleep, for George.

Being a freelance coder is a good gig all things considered; he’s coded websites, plug-ins, coded new shortcuts, and made business graphs. George knows HTML, Java, and C++. Although people tend to have a love-hate for C++, George loves it. Maybe not all the time. But most of the time? He’s obsessed.

Coding has always been something he’s enjoyed. When he was young, he used an old coding website, where he had to create inputs to move the character around on his screen and make it fight monsters. Obviously, it was simplified for a child to be capable of playing with it, but it was a staple for him.

George moved to America almost 7 years ago. He moved while still in university, because he had an internship in the States, as well as an apartment with his name on it. After he finished his last year of university, he started his 2-year internship and started managing to have a stable freelancing job a year later. Fast forward 2 years later and he’d bought this house.

He worked extremely hard on making the house a home, remodeling, painting, introducing himself to the neighbors surrounding him, and attempting to make friends with those nearby. Now he helps Melody with babysitting her daughter Jenna occasionally, helps Larry with mowing his lawn every Sunday, waters Sarah’s plants when she goes off on vacation, and goes out to brunch with a few of the others in the area once a month.

Another loud scrape hits the air, followed by an engine revving aggressively. His windows vibrate slightly, and he hears the soft music he’d been playing start wavering as it plays. He flings his hand to his forehead dramatically in response. His chest deflates all of the air inside it, as he glares at his ceiling, willing himself to find any ounce of strength to deal with this bullshit.

George has really annoying neighbors; they work on their cars early in the morning and keep him awake with the racket. If George had more confidence, he’d march over there right now and bang on their front door until they shut up.

-

The new neighbors moved in about 8 months after he had. He’d been so excited to have people who were also new and had rushed over with a container of brownies and some petunias he’d helped Sarah with growing. Even wrote out a little note to welcome them to the neighborhood with his number on it in case they needed anything.

The next day, he saw a raven-haired boy with a hole-filled band t-shirt, black cargo pants, and Doc Martin boots get out of his car and start walking up the driveway. George stood up and waved in greeting. Only for the other to awkwardly stare at him before walking inside the next-door house without a word. George stood puzzled for a few minutes before sitting back down and working his way through the 45 syntax errors that mocked him.

Later that day, he saw a blonde-haired boy with a red and white jersey, the number twenty-three in bold white letters on the front. He had a white and red beanie on, with pointed ears in the corners. He had on simple gray sweatpants and some work boots. He gave a head nod to the blonde who glanced over before ducking his head and speed walking into the house.

He shrugged, confused and put off by the cold behavior. Gathering all his things up, he decided to move his things into the house. It was getting a bit chilly as the sun worked its way down. He checked his appearance in the entryway mirror. Sure, his hair was messy from him running his hands through it in annoyance and stress. But the rest of him looked fine. Rumpled, sure, but fine nonetheless. His black fuzzy sweats and worn t-shirt weren’t the most unapproachable thing he could’ve worn.

Maybe they just didn’t really like people too much? George shakes his head and decides he’ll do most of his coding inside his house instead.

-

The loud car work starts 4 months after they’ve moved in fully. It’s always done in the mornings, early, and it goes on for hours. George almost gathered the courage to go over to the house a few times to ask them kindly to be quieter, only to chicken out at the last minute.

He debated calling the police a few times, only to feel shitty, and he’d hear his own mother's voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that “your village is only as strong as its foundation” and that talking through issues instead of creating more issues was the correct way to go or some other wholesome thing.

They’d barely known each other even existed. He couldn’t call the cops for a noise complaint; they’d never want to talk with him if he did that. George considered looking for noise-canceling headphones on Amazon later.

The noise-canceling headphones last for about 3 weeks, which is longer than George had expected. His sleep got worse, and it didn’t block off nearly enough of the noise to help him continue sleeping. He’d either wake up early from the discomfort or from the noise sneaking its way around his headphones.

-

George adjusts the collar of the shirt he’s wearing. It’s the 3rd Saturday of the month, which means George is out for lunch with Cathy and Mason, catching up on things in the neighborhood gossip, and updating them on his personal life. George figured if anyone would know anything about his new neighbors, it’d be the block’s main gossipers.

“Do they wake either of you guys up in the morning with how loud they are? It feels next to impossible to focus on anything with all the noise.” George asks.

“Oh, you mean Sapnap and Dream?” They ask.

Sapnap and Dream..

“I don’t think they like me much; they avoid talking to me and don’t even wave back,” George grumbles.

“Oh?” Mason mutters, confused. “I was talking with Dream about the Sooners game the other day. Big footballer that one. He went to the game the other day, and was bummed they’d lost.” Cathy gives a playful eye roll at the other’s very child-like behavior.

“Sapnap seems sweet as well. He used to play the violin, although he’s definitely more of the shy type between the two.” She offers warmly.

“Dream has blonde hair, and he’s really tall. Sapnap has black hair and is on the shorter end.” Cathy explains to help George out more. “I think they’re both car mechanics, that or they have a huge range of knowledge on cars. They helped Mason with his jeep the other day.” She raves.

George nods, with a smile that feels way too fake. His salad tastes like plastic as he ponders why his neighbors seem to be fine with talking with the other neighbors but not him.

-

George sits on his porch watching as a fiery orange car rolls down the driveway, parking about halfway. A raven-haired exits, he’s wearing another worn band t-shirt, except this one has oil stains on it instead of holes everywhere. He’s also got on some sweats, well-worn ones from the look of it.

Sapnap, his brain supplies.

Sapnap grabs a bucket and starts adding soap and water. The suds nearly overflow with just how much is inside. A calico cat walks up to him and jumps up onto his little bench, making herself comfortable. She started showing up roughly a year ago, and George had been obsessed with her ever since. Constantly loving her every time she was around. She has a pretty little collar with a light pink bow on it. The cat watches with curiosity as Sapnap starts to spray the hose water all over the car. Use a microfiber cloth to wipe certain small areas of the car.

George feels himself sit up straighter when he notices Sapnap grabbing the bucket of water. Some spilled onto his shirt. A traitorous voice begs for Sapnap to take his shirt off, but George aggressively ignores it.

Sapnap is thorough with washing his car. He’s meticulous with every corner, end, and compartment. He scrubs it so aggressively that his shirt has long since gotten stuck, flipped upwards, showing off his lower stomach. George is sure he’s probably burning a hole through the other with how hard he’s eyeing up the other's hips and the hair that trails below the other's navel.

George wouldn’t mind his neighbors that much if they would always do something quietly with their cars like this. Getting to watch some attractive men doing manual labor? For free? Cmon, he’s not Mormon.

George ignores the cat, who turns to stare at him once the other seems to bore her. She’s got a knowing sparkle in her eyes that he hates. He pretends he has no clue what she knows. Going back to rubbing under her chin.

-

“They’re so loud! Can you hear it? Please tell me the mic is picking it up? Mum!” George groans to his mum, complaining about his neighbors yet again.

“George.” His mother speaks softly. “Have you tried going over and asking them to just keep the volume down?” She offers placatingly.

“Well.. no. But-“

“You need to go over and ask them, George. Speak up for yourself.” She argues softly.

He drops his forehead onto his counter, groaning into his hands in frustration, knowing she’s correct. He just hated the conflict. He wanted to stay inside and pretend nothing was wrong.

“Can’t you do it?” George asks softly, only slightly joking.

“George.” His mum starts. “You know good and well that I can’t hold your hand through every single conflict.” She reminds him, a soft laugh present in her voice.

He pouts harder into his arms. “When are you coming to visit anyway?” He knows side-stepping the conversation won’t do anything to stop what needs to be discussed.

“Hopefully, within the next 5 months. I just need to get some time off work and book some plane tickets. Once I know, I’ll let you know as well.” Her soft voice flutters in the speakers. George presses his face closer to the phone, hoping he can imagine her being closer to him, smelling her familiar perfume and the detergent, she normally uses, just to pretend for at least a little while that she’s not still across an entire ocean.

“Kay,” George mumbles softly. “Bye, mum. Love you.”

“Love you too, George, we’ll talk soon. Good luck on that website you’re working through.”

The silence in the room feels weirdly suffocating. Maybe he should ask Cathy and Mason if they’re busy today, or if they can go for a late lunch, or maybe Jenna needs to be watched for at least an hour. They haven’t finished watching Bambi from the last time he had her over. He hates this type of silence, the lack of domesticity in the house. No matter how many decorations or candles he puts up, it still feels hollow.

-

George is sitting with the same Calico cat again; she’s always out recently. He’s giving her little bits of the salmon he cooked up, while they watch some dumb YouTube videos. The person drones on about a new game that’s dropped recently. Their voice is excited and energetic. He makes a mental note to look into doing some coding for Minecraft in his personal time. Maybe a new mod.

A tall blonde backs his dark green car out of the garage, getting out and using a jack to hitch the side of his car up. Dream, his brain supplies. He slowly loosens the front left wheel, and he places it to the side after he’s gotten it off. He loosens the back left tire, takes it off, and puts it in place of where the front left tire was. He tightens all the lug nuts into place loosely, then tightens all of them.

Dream places a brick under the back left of his car, then adjusts his jack to lift the right side of his car. He loosens the front right tire, removing it and placing it to the side, away from the old front left tire. He loosens and then removes the back right tire before placing it where the front right tire used to be. Dream picks up the front left tire and places it onto the back right side, tightening the screws. He removes the jack carefully and replaces it on the left side. Putting the old front right tire onto the back left side.

George silently looks to the cat for answers as to why the blonde rotated his tires in such an odd fashion, the cat blinks back slowly, almost as if saying, You tell me.

“Fair enough.” George shrugs.

-

George stood awkwardly inside the airport lobby, his body practically vibrating with excitement. His mum was supposed to be coming in today. It’d been roughly 2 1/2 years since he last saw her, back in the UK, since he’d gone to visit her. He hated flying for extended periods of time.

The last time he’d flown all the way back to the UK, he’d needed to take a melatonin right as he boarded, and it luckily kept him asleep until they were landing. His head ached and his ears felt like they were underwater. He hoped his mum wasn’t feeling the same way he had been. He was out of commission the last time for a good few days.

“Boo!” Hands slap onto his shoulders.

Every nerve in George’s body tenses for a second before he recognizes the voice. His childhood dances behind his eyelids. A soothing voice sings to him while he splashes around in the bathtub. A warm hand rubbing between his shoulder blades, moving every ounce of tension out of it, while brushing the hair out of his eyes. Waiting for his breathing to even out. George turns, quickly wrapping his mother into a hug. “Mum.” His voice is a mere whisper compared to the rest of the airport surrounding them. “I missed you.” He whispers against her temple. Breathing in her familiar hair products.

His mother laughs softly, “Oh, let me look at my baby.” She slowly moves him away from her, eyes scanning across his every feature, comparing what she last saw of him 2 1/2 years ago, in a London airport. Tears caught in both their eyes.

“You look worn out, Hun. Your eye bags have eye bags. When’s the last time you’ve slept?” She asks him quickly.

“Well-“ George jumps at his mum’s cold hands hitting his cheek suddenly.

“And you’re much tanner; the sun makes you look much more alive. I like it.” She says, smiling warmly.

She pats his cheek, grabs one of her suitcases, and motions for him to grab the other. “Well, c'mon, you’ve gotta show me your life here. I wanna see what you’ve been up to.”

George nods, reaching around and snatching her suitcase. Rolling it behind him as he approaches the exit doors. The air is humid and warm. The damp, muggy smell confirms that a storm will roll through soon.

Having his mum around feels different. She brings a layer of domesticity with her that he hadn’t had in the house before. Whether it’s the smell of food that comes from the windows when he’s outside, or the pots and pans banging into each other while he’s lounging on the couch. Or her voice filtering into the room, while watching reality TV with another person.

Either way, it’s different. George likes this differently.

George is confused as he checks his mum’s location for the 10th time; she said she’d be home within an hour from a grocery run. Her location says she’s already home, but she’s not inside the house, and she isn’t in the front or back yard. George does what any reasonable, 29-year-old adult does. He starts grabbing his shoes, wallet, keys for his car, and bolts out of his house, planning to hunt her down himself. George feels his heartbeat in his ears as he thinks over all the possible dangers his mum could be dealing with as they speak. She could be seriously injured, incapacitated, lost, or in pain.

“George? Where are you going?” George nearly collapses to his knees with relief when he sees his mother standing right in front of the front door. He almost runs up to hug her in relief, but stops himself. Instead, his eyes narrow with suspicion, and his brow raises.

“And just where exactly have you been?” He asks, his voice comes out calmer than he feels.

“Oh my god, George, I thought we’d grown out of this.” She smiles softly, grinning despite trying to make her voice sound serious.

“I’ll grow out of it, when you start telling me where you’re going, it’s exhausting raising you, you know,” George argues.

He’s not sure who breaks the joke first, but soon enough, the room was filled with joyous, bright laughter.

“Stop, we gotta- My ribs- Mum please!” George gasped out. His mum continued laughing with him, wiping tears from her eyes as she continued full body laughing.

After a few moments, they finally managed to calm down and stop laughing.

“Okay, actually though, where were you?”

His mum sighs, hands on her hips, and grabs the rest of the bags she’d placed on the floor during her laughing fit. “I was talking with your neighbors; they’re a sweet couple and super nice.”

George nods, his head flashing him images of Cathy and Mason. They’re so perfect together, they mellow each other out so beautifully.

“Yeah, if I ever settle down with someone, I hope it’s someone who gets me the way they get each other,” George says softly.

His mum stares at the awe shining in his eyes and smiles warmly. She hip bumps him as she walks past. “You will, don’t worry, Hun. You’ll find your people. It just takes time.” George nods, wrapping his arms around the bags and helping her bring everything inside. It’s getting chilly outside recently.

-

George set the kettle on, waiting for the water to heat up with a mug and a teabag inside it. Pitch black tea stared back at him with its gray handle. He preferred any kind of black tea over the typical Camomile and peppermint varieties. His shoulders sank into himself as he tried to distract his own brain from obsessing over a string of code. He’d been having trouble spacing the words on his site. HTML was always temperamental at the worst times over the dumbest things.

His thoughts were interrupted by the kettle's whistle. He poured the hot water over the bag into his mug. Feeling the tension leave his shoulders once his hands wrapped around the mug. It was a stupid creeper mug with silly faces drawn all over. He loved it. George sipped his tea slowly while going to his room to change into his pajamas. It was four in the morning, and he’d been up way too late trying to figure out this coding mess. The company wanted a specific font for their words on the site, which meant he couldn’t do a simple boldening or italicizing of the words and call it a day.

He grabbed his light blue sleep shorts, the plush of them always comforting on his skin. A matching oversized shirt, he slipped on top. He worked his way through one more video on YouTube before letting himself fall asleep.

-

George woke up confused and disoriented. His clock read back 10 in the morning. Sure, he’d slept for 6 hours, but considering he’d been up the previous day for almost 30, he was hoping for at least 12. At first, he wasn’t sure why he’d woken up, only to hear that excessively loud sound of metal grinding on itself, his ears cringing.

George sighed aggressively. Exhausted of this same old day routine. Frustrated, he shoved his blankets off himself and threw himself out of bed. He grabbed the first shoes he saw by his door, some slip-on shoes, and marched across his lawn. The familiar garage was open, and he didn’t hesitate for a second in his sleepy, yet angry mission. He stood in the opening of the garage. Hands across his chest in annoyance as he glared at Dream, who sat with a chunky welding mask on. A few minutes of glaring caused Dream to instinctively glance up, and he immediately paused when he saw who was staring back.

Dream stopped what he was doing and tilted his head like a lost dog while watching the others' clearly ruffled state. His shirt was shaken and tugged up, his shorts having ridden up his hips, getting closer to his waist and exposing more skin as he drummed his fingers on his crossed arms.

“Dream, seriously, dude. There’s zero way that you actually were driving this. You’re a car mechanic, dude. There’s no oil in here!” Sapnap scolded from underneath the car.

George’s eyes jump to the floor, noticing the tuft of hair that was now visibly peeking out from under the car. Dream clears his throat loudly as the other was clearly about to go into another rant, causing the raven to scoot his way out from under the car. He’s lying back on a red floor scooter. A rumpled band t-shirt covered in oil and grease, and matching old basketball shorts on his legs.

His confused eyes start on Dream before following his gaze and finding George. The unfortunate angle makes George step slightly backwards in hesitation before he steels his shoulders and continues to glare. “Can you guys be quiet for once. Some people are trying to sleep.” George huffs out in annoyance.

“Oh no, we wouldn’t want to fuck up sleeping beauty’s slumber, now would we?” Dream’s mouth quirks up into a half-smirk.

George is severely tempted to reach over and smack that shit off his face.

George is ready to argue further before Sapnap pipes in for damage control. “We’re so sorry, we can keep the noise down.” He offers earnestly.

George nods, grumbling in frustration as he turns on his heel and starts walking out.

Sapnap watches him move farther away as his eyes catch on the slight freckled pale skin right below his ass, peeking out from the shorts. He wipes a greasy hand down his face, trying to collect himself.

“What the fuck?” Dream’s brash voice interrupts the silence. “Why’d you do that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why’d you agree to being quiet. It’s already 10 in the morning. Most people are at work like us by now? What the hell else am I meant to be doing?” Dream argues petulantly.

“Firstly, we don’t want our neighbors upset by us and getting the police called on us for a noise complaint. We’re not exactly being law-abiding citizens with this shit.” Sapnap waves his hand to the other parts of the car. Dream stands quietly. Nodding to the others' words.

“Besides, I can think of quite a bit that I personally would love to be doing right now.” Sapnap raises his brows teasingly as he glances to where George is opening his own front door to enter his house.

Dream scoffs, boot hitting the corner of the scooter, and shoving him back under the car again. “Shut up.” Sapnap giggles to himself before adjusting the bucket one last time and unscrewing the cap on the oil. Letting it drain into his container.

-

George slowly flutters his eyelids open, a huge yawn leaving his mouth, as he notices the time. 10:30 am, and he wasn’t woken up once. A lazy smile graces his face. He hasn’t woken up to peaceful bird chirps in so long. He moves slowly towards his bathroom, starting his day.

He washes up in his shower quickly, before heading downstairs, planning to make himself some breakfast. He makes pancakes and sausages, with some tea and biscuits on the side. After placing everything onto a tray, he brings it to his porch. Bringing a few cans of cat food with him for the few neighborhood cats that tend to linger. He cracks a can open for the beautiful calico that greets him right out the door. Her little sock-covered toes scratch the door. George always thought she had the prettiest coat.

As he and the cat dig into their meals, a familiar engine revs from up the block; a few minutes later, a familiar dark green Toyota pulls into the driveway next to him. It’s shiny, clearly taken care of well, with beautiful headlights, nearly looking like eyes at nighttime.

Dream slips out of the front seat, wearing green cargos and a skin-tight shirt. George tries not to stare too hard at the other. The shirt brings more attention to his muscles. George watches Dream look around the driveway for a couple of minutes before he whistles softly into the air. The cat stops eating for a second, letting out a responding meow before glancing back towards her food. George watches as Dream realizes where the cat is, before a soft smile overtakes his face. George wishes he had a good-quality camera to snap a picture of it. A few seconds later, he seems to remember where his cat is, and he drops his smile to a neutral expression. Sending a scolding look to the cat, who’s clearly unperturbed.

Dream walks into the open garage on the side of the house, rummaging for a few minutes. He hears Sapnap greet him softly with a happy giggle that flows through the air. George tilts his head softly.

He scratches behind the cat's ears, “You’re so pretty. Please tell me that you aren’t theirs. That would deduct points from your perfectness.“ The cat stares up at him, head butting his chin before running her tail under his face. She starts walking off, towards the house, and George takes the answer for what it was-an admission of guilt.

It’s not her fault, to be fair, she didn’t choose those two idiots to be her owners. She got stuck with them, just like George got stuck with them for his neighbors.

The cat slinks her way into the garage, letting out little meows to announce her presence. “Well, well, well, look who’s here. What’s up, Patches? decide to no longer ignore me?“ Dream scolds playfully.

“Don’t worry, Dreamie, she just loves the neighbor more, can’t blame her.” Sapnap playfully adds.

-

George grabs himself his tea, running just a minute or two behind from his usual schedule. He grabs a couple cat treats from his shelves, to make up for his lack of punctuality.

A familiar scratching goes ham at his door as he gets closer to it. "I'm coming Patches, give me a second dude." He grumbles.

By the time the door is opened, Patches has her ears all the way back, mouth open to continue yowling about the lack of food she's been given. George shakes his head at her, fighting back the smile that's slowly creeping its way onto his face. Patches circles his legs, her aggressive head butts to his shins causing him to nearly topple over as he opens up the treats for her. He sets it on top of the table, laughing softly as he immediately leaps onto the table, shoving whatever is in her path to the sides.

George hisses between his teeth as she nearly knocks over his cup of tea he'd just grabbed. He softly bumps her hips to the side by an inch and moves his mug in the other direction. "Careful silly, You nearly knocked over my drink."

Patches buries her face into the container, definitely coating her whiskers and chin in the gravy that covers her treat. George grabs a napkin from the table, ready to wipe her face off if need be. He pulls out a book for himself once he's sure she's situated; he opens the page to his bookmark. Clearing his throat as he falls into the story.

George and Patches continue spending most breakfasts together on his porch; it’s been a usual routine for a year and a half now. Since talking to his neighbors, so is going to bed by 2 am and waking up by 10:30 in the morning. George has stayed on that schedule to the dot for over 8 months.

George wakes up to someone knocking on his door; the sound is loud, heavy. Confused, he rubs his eyes and checks the time. It’s only 6 in the morning. His notifications are blowing off the charts, though. He definitely wasn’t asleep that long.

Another harsh knock hits his front door, with the doorbell going off. He moves quickly to get out of bed. Not wanting whoever it is to end up breaking his door down. He opens the door, confused to see a concerned-looking Sapnap on the other side.

“Holy fuck, you look like shit.” It feels like a slap to the face. George blinks in shock at the words, about to argue a defense when his mouth opens, but nothing leaves his mouth. He realizes just how badly his throat aches, his nose feels raw, and it’s probably red. His head hurts like a bitch, too. Pressure so aggressive it feels like his whole face is going to explode from the pressure.

“I checked around the back door, but there’s literally no lights on. Why aren’t you still knocking on the door- Oh! Fuck, you look like a ghost.” Dream’s voice joins the conversation.

George would’ve slammed the door on them both if it weren’t for the genuine concern on both their faces that made him hesitate.

“We got worried, you didn’t go outside Monday for breakfast, and Patches kept meowing at your door, and then Tuesday we didn’t see you even turn any lights on, so today we figured if we didn’t see you out for breakfast today or lunch, we’d stop by to check in.” Sapnap rushes to explain.

George’s brows furrow even more. “What day is today?” His head hurts massively, and there’s so much information being thrown at him.

“Wednesday evening.” Dream answers.

George’s head feels extremely heavy, and his balance falters for a second. He moves to the side of the doorway, leaving it open as he walks towards his living room, searching for his laptop. He’d know by when the last time he checked for updates on his computer. Dream and Sapnap quietly walk in and close the door behind them. Patches invites herself in before it’s fully shut.

Last checked for updates July 16th. He glances at the date on his computer, even more confused by the July 18th staring back. He remembers having a massive headache the morning of the 16th, and deciding to take a couple of days off, he stayed in because the sun made him feel worse. He remembers tossing and turning the other night. And waking up the next morning with only a couple of hours of sleep, feeling like hell. He remembers having some tea for breakfast before feeling nauseous and going back to bed. But that had to of been yesterday morning.

Where had the rest of his time gone? George runs his palms over his face aggressively a few more times. His stomach turns with anxiety as he lets his body slump onto his couch. Sapnap sits across from him. Just basking in the silence. Patches offers support by curling up against him. Loud purrs fill the silence.

“So, you’ve clearly gotten some kind of bug.” Dreams is the first to talk. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” He asks softly.

George shrugs. “I don’t know, I remember having tea and going to bed yesterday at like 3 am, I guess that would’ve been technically Tuesday at 3 am. And now it’s apparently 6 pm?”

Dream hums softly, “Sap, can you go run George a bath or shower? George, you wash up, I’ll make you some soup and tea.” George wants to protest, but Sapnap’s already up and moving. With the amount of sweat coating George’s body, maybe a shower is a good idea.

George sits on the floor of the shower for a while after he got dizzy from washing his body. A bath would’ve taken too long. Not that this shower is going any faster. He can hear Sapnap in the other room, cleaning up stuff and moving things. He’s sure he’ll feel like shit for not cleaning up before guests, but right now he just feels really lonely, and everything aches.

Dream is an amazing cook. George inhales all the soup he makes up. It's a lighter one, made to hopefully not upset George's stomach, but also so he'd be able to keep it down. Chicken noodle, with celery, carrots, and the perfect amount of seasoning. George hasn't had homemade soup taste this delicious since he was back home in England. George's heart pinches tight as the thought hits him.

Dream makes him a cup of tea to go along with it, the honey and warmth making his throat feel thinner, and hurt much less. By the time George has finished eating, and he feels sleepy again. George lies on the couch, full of soup, and his nose is still gross and snotty. His throat hurts less with the warmth of the soup and tea. He feels squeaky clean, and the pressure in his nose is slightly less. Patches lies on her back, back legs kicked out lazily, and paws over her own chest, mimicking his position. Sapnap continues tidying the rest of the house, while Dream cleans the kitchen up, still wearing a silly apron that doesn’t fit his broad shoulders at all. George feels his eyes get heavier and heavier.

-

George wakes up and immediately feels his stomach lurch. Panicking, he slaps a hand to his mouth and hops off the couch. He sprints for the bathroom, yanking the toilet seat up before he empties his stomach. Everything hurts, and his eyes sting from the force of his gags. When it feels like he’s gotten everything out. He lets himself sit up, flushing the toilet while his nose burns. He’s 99 percent sure that something came out of it as well.

It isn’t until the room stops spinning, and his stomach has stopped angrily lurching, that he realizes that there’s someone in the bathroom with him. The sink is still running, and Dream stands with soap suds still on his hands.

“Oh, George.” The other's voice is soft. He walks out of the bathroom while George just lets his body sink further into the wall behind him. He lets his breathing slow down and tells himself he’s going to brush his teeth in a minute.

Dream returns with a few damp pieces of paper towel, wiping at the other's mouth and chin. He’s careful yet thorough. He helps the other stand up, bearing most of the other's weight as he gives him a small cup to help him rinse his mouth out, before handing him a toothbrush with some toothpaste on it already. George thanks him with a hum. Scrubbing his teeth aggressively and quickly so he doesn’t fall asleep. George feels a soft hand rub his back as he finishes brushing, his body leans forward before being tugged backwards again by strong hands. He lets the other pick him up easily and gives in to his heavy eyelids.

George feels much better after the next couple of days. Embarrassed by the faint memories of how Dream and Sapnap took care of him. But massively grateful.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You still look a little like you might keel over.” Dream's worried voice asks for the damn near 20th time.

“I’m fine, I swear. I’ll just walk over to your house if I need anything.” George grumbles, just about shoving the other out the door.

“Wait, here. Take my number, in case of emergencies.”

George looks hesitant to accept the offer.

“Please? Just so I feel at least a little bit better?” Dream says pleadingly.

“Fine,” George grumbles, and hands his phone over.

Once Dream adds himself, then sends a message, he deems it good enough and turns to leave. George coughs into his elbow a few times once the door closes.

-

George turns his keys in the ignition for the 10th time. Praying as he continues to hear the car try to start, only to give out. “Fuck, this is not happening right now.” George groans when the car gives up for the umpteenth time. He drops his forehead onto his steering wheel. He just wants to go home. It’s been a tiring and stressful day, and the worst part is, the house is around 45 minutes away.

George sits in the car with his head down for nearly 30 minutes before he bites the bullet and calls Dreams' number. “Hello?” He picks up on the 2nd ring.

“My car won’t start,” George grumbles into the phone.

The sound of metal clanging into each other stops for a second, the call quieter as Dream’s confused voice fills the silence. “What’d you say?”

“My car won’t start. And I’m so far from home.” George complains. He isn’t whining. He’s an adult.

“Is your engine overheated?” Dream asks softly.

George is about to make a snarky comment about how he wouldn’t know if his engine was overheated, even if his car was on fire, until a new voice fills the phone. “Turn the key in the ignition, and put your phone up to the car's dashboard so I can hear it.” Sapnap’s voice is focused as he gets closer to the mic. Dream’s soft protests go quiet.

George huffs and turns the key, the car rattles, the engine refusing to turn over before giving out. “Yeah, your battery is dead. Is there a battery symbol on your dashboard?”

“Fuck does that even look like?” George scoffs.

His phone pings him for a FaceTime request coming through. He accepts it quickly, flipping the camera to the screen. Sapnap hums. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know, I was out shopping, and then stopped to get some gas, and when I went to turn it back on, it wouldn’t go,” George explains.

“Send your location to Dream,” Sapnap says.

George does, shuffling around in his front seat. Bringing his knees to his chin, he sends his location. “I’ll be there in like 45.” Sapnap offers.

George decides to keep himself busy by playing a word search on his phone while Dream stays on the phone. He hums to a song while he works on fixing what looks like a new steering wheel cover.
“Fucking, stupid piece of shit.” The other complains, his arms clearly tense and struggling as the phone is propped up on the dashboard on the other side of the car. George laughs, watching as Dream struggles to get the cover onto the wheel.

A loud bang hits his window, George jumps out of his skin and lets out the highest ear-piercing screech he’s ever heard himself do, whipping his head to the window and seeing Sapnap’s stupid self-peeking down at him. He’s grinning at the other, definitely about to start making fun of George for jumping.

George opens his door, pushing the other's shoulder harshly. “You fucking dickhead.”

Sapnap laughs softly before moving around George and lifting the car's hood. He’s holding two jumper cables, with clamps on the ends of them. George, although lost, waits for Sapnap to tell him what to do. Sapnap moves his own car to park it in front of George’s car. Opening his hood and connecting the red jumper cable to the positive terminal of George’s car. He then turns and connects the other red cable to the positive terminal in his own car. Once both are connected, Sapnap connects the black jumper cable clamp to the negative terminal in Sapnap’s car, then turns back around to connect the other black jumper cable away from George’s battery, making sure it's metal.

Sapnap then walks around to his own car, turning his engine on, and letting it run for a good couple of minutes. After he’s decided it’s good enough, he gets out, puts Georges' keys back into the ignition, and attempts to turn the engine over. George nearly jumps in excitement when the engine turns over, and it starts up. Sapnap gets out after the car is started and removes the black clamp from George’s car first, then the one from his own. He grabs the red from his car, then from George’s car. Being careful of where he places them.

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver.”

Sapnap grins back at the other. “Well, since I’m a lifesaver, I’d argue that I deserve a thank-you gift.”

George nods before grabbing the extra slushy from his car. “Here! I got you one while I was waiting.”

Sapnap smiles softly, immediately taking the drink and trying it. “Mmm, cherry, blue raspberry, and lime. A perfect combination.”

-

As time goes on, something changes between George and his neighbors. The space George used to put between them and himself gets smaller and smaller. Sapnap and Dream will randomly stop by and have dinner with him or drag him over to their house to have food. They designate Fridays for movie nights. And doors start to be left unlocked unless it’s nighttime. George’s sleep schedule is still shit. But not nearly as bad as before. Since becoming friends with them, he’s noticed the two not only flirt with each other like crazy, but George especially gets put in between the two when they’re having a stupid dick measuring contest. Trying to boost their own egos. George just wishes he knew which of their comments were jokes and which were serious.

He knows that Dream and Sapnap met at a young age and have been inseparable ever since. Wherever one goes, the other does as well. He knows that even their families are close to each other. Their dads go to football games, and their moms go out for lunch occasionally. It’s just the two of them at the house; he knows Dreams' younger sister Victoria visits often, he knows Sap calls her V, and she calls him N, some dumb little inside joke that George long since gave up on trying to understand. He knows that Dream has an older sister named Tessa and a younger brother named Noah.

George knows Sapnap lived with his dad and stepmom back in Texas before moving to Florida. He knows that Dream and Sap both were really into cars and both became mechanics; he knows they want to open their own auto body shop. He knows that Dream drives a Toyota GR86 in the color Hakone, a special green shade made to have it look like the Hakone forest. He knows Sapnap drives a Honda Civic Type R that’s a fiery orange shade. He only knows that because the other two are severely passionate about the whole Toyota versus Honda debate. One of the few things they disagree on.

Sapnap scoffs aggressively, “You’re brain dead. Actually, fucking brain dead. No way we’re back at this again.”

Dream crosses his arm, brows furrowed heavily at the other. “Yes, we are. Because you refuse to admit you’re wrong.”

“Clay. The R has 315 horsepower at 6,500 revolutions per minute. And it’s 310-pound torque, compared to your car's measly 184.” Sapnap starts.

“Nick. The GR86’s smaller weight allows me to drive it to its fullest capabilities and really test its limits. It also allows a more skilled driver to slide the rear end of the car, and it has a high-revving power band.” Dream lists.

“Mine offers 5 seats, meaning I can fit more passengers inside it, and it has greater trunk space, so I can store more. And-“ Sapnap raises his voice as he goes.

“Boys, you’re both pretty and have your little sexy cars, now can we shut up and go back to the movie, please?” George pleads.

The other two blush and nod quietly, Dream mumbling about how it “isn’t over”. George rolls his eyes fondly. It never is.

Sapnap and Dream sometimes take their supposed jokes too far for them to still be jokes.

“George, if I beat him down the track, you owe me a kiss.” Sapnap starts.

“Hell no! If I win, I get a kiss from George.” Dream snaps back.

George shakes his head, face red as he looks down the track in front of them. The last people who’d rented it already left, and now it’s just the three.

“If I win, you owe me, Sap says with a cheeky grin. At first, George thinks he’s talking to him, but he turns to see the two staring at each other intensely.

Dream leans closer to the other's ear, muttering, “Fine. But if I win, you owe me.” George strains to listen. Confused about what exactly is owed. They shake on it before going down to their cars. Settling into their seats and revving. Dreams car is louder than Sapnap’s, but Sapnap’s can get to 60 miles per hour within a span of seconds.

George does the cheeky, flag-wave between the cars, giggling when they zoom past him. He spins, watching Sapnap’s car start to pull ahead of Dreams. It’s a close race for sure, with Dreams modified turbo and precision, the race is extremely close. George full-on starts cackling when Sapnap almost spins out, and Dream gains distance between them. Sapnap turns himself back onto the track, chasing Dream down for the finish line. Dream just barely manages across the finish line with his front bumper when Sapnap comes up alongside it.

After multiple footage reviews, it’s agreed that Dream won, if not by cheating in Sapnap’s book.

“You caused me to almost spin out! If I hadn’t, I so would’ve won by a landslide.” Sapnap debates.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t be a sore loser, Sapnap.” Dream goads.

“Oh, I’ll show you a fucking sore loser, Clay.” Sapnap’s eyes hold promises of what George doesn’t quite know. But he doesn’t have long to ponder before Dream waltzes up to him, cheeky grin and all.

“Well, where’s my prize?” He said coyly.

George scoffs, tugging his face down more, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Dream’s face gets brighter, as he starts celebrating.

Sapnap, like a kicked dog, immediately gives the other puppy dog eyes, “But George, I should’ve won, and I was really impressive out there, wasn’t I? I think I deserve one too.”

George yanks Sapnap by the chain on his neck and presses a kiss to his cheek. Slightly longer than the one he gave Dream, but a millisecond.

“That’s not fair! You kissed him longer!” Dream immediately chimes in.

George just scoffs and starts walking away from the track, going towards the parking lot and watching as the other two scramble to get their cars off the track so they can go home.

-

“We should go to the beach,” Sapnap says in the middle of a Friday movie night.

George tilts his head at the other, confused. “What brought this idea up?”

Sapnap points at the show, where the friends are having a beach picnic, just before sunset.

“Sapnap. This is a slasher film. They’re about to be drowned, stabbed, decapitated, and slaughtered. Why would you want to go to a beach after watching that?” Dream explains, horrified.

Sapnap rolls his eyes at the others. “You guys just don’t get it.” He pouts with his arms crossed.

They end up at the beach the next morning. Not quite as early as they could be, but early enough for it to still count as a beach day. George is putting the towels down while Dream attempts to dig a hole for the umbrella. Sapnap is standing in his sandals, glaring slightly at the sand.

“What the fuck did the sand do to you?” George asks.

“I just forgot just how much I hate sand until now.” Sapnap mumbles.

“You..” George’s eye twitches “You threw a whole hissy fit-“

“It was not a hissy fit!” Sapnap argues.

“It was a hissy fit.” Dream confirms.

“-About wanting to come to the beach, so we could have a beach day like the idiots from the movie. When you knew you didn’t like sand to begin with. The one thing the beach is quite literally made of.” George finishes.

Sapnap shrugs a little, blushing as he smiles. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Dream amends. “Because we’ll be so busy being in the water that you’ll forget about the sand.”

“I doubt it,” Sapnap grumbles, going back to glaring at the sand. “Last time I went to the beach, I was still finding sand in between my balls over a week later.”

“I could’ve done much better without that visual.”

“Oh, George, you love that visual. In fact, you should be thanking me, I’m giving you wonderful material for your alone time.” Sapnap quips.

George shakes his head, shoving at the other, “Last one in is a simp!” And bolts for the ocean.

“Guys! You need sunscreen!” Dream yells after them.

Later, Dream is sighing loudly as he applies a new coating of aloe vera to George and Sapnap’s skin as they groan in pain and blaming the other for this whole mess.

–
George typically doesn’t do well with “different”. But, just like with many things, Dream and Sapnap happen to be the exceptions to that rule. His house feels less and less hollow. The halls filled with laughter, and his couches feel smaller. Closing the door and sitting inside more feels less like a prison sentence and more like coming home.

George’s house is the typical hangout spot for them; even Patches has her own food and water bowl at his house. She sleeps in his house sometimes, when Sapnap and Dream are out late into the night. They filled a spot in George’s life that he hadn’t even realized was lacking until after he met them. George finally understood what his mum meant when she said he’d find his people. Finding friends who mean the world to him felt like an impossible task. George just wishes that the moments in the middle of the night when he wished they were more weren’t so paralyzing.

It’s a year after George, Sapnap, and Dream started their movie nights, when Dream mentions the idea. “We should go on a picnic tomorrow.”

George glances over at Sapnap, who's already looking back at him, he finds himself slowly leaning into the idea. “Okay.”

“Sap?” Dream asks.

“Sure, I don’t think I have anything else to do.”

George isn’t sure what exactly is customary to pack for a picnic, so he calls his mum, ignoring her teasing and repetitive questions on whether he’s sure this isn’t a date. “You’re supposed to be helping me make good things to bring on our picnic, not ask me dumb questions, Mum.”

She laughs as George wrestles salami into a flower-looking blob. He isn’t sure how well they look, but he’s sure the others will appreciate the efforts he’s put into them. “I’m just saying, make sure you dress nice. What if they do view it in a date fashion and you show up looking like... Well, that.” She explains carefully.

George cuts up some cheese to place next to his salami mess. “Fine. I’ll change before I leave. Now, is this good enough?” He shows her the cheese and meat platter he’s managed to make.

George makes a mental note to thank his mum for stopping him from leaving his house in old sweats and a t-shirt after seeing the other two so dressed up. Dream is wearing a nice Hawaiian button-up, with some nice-looking slacks, and some nice Jordans. Sapnap is wearing an anime t-shirt that has definitely had its wrinkles ironed out, and a nice pair of jeans, with Doc Martens. George looks at his own jeans and t-shirt combo he’s chosen to wear and feels happier that he’d worn a shirt he’d just freshly bought, rather than one he typically wears around the house.

It’s in the middle of stuffing his face that Dream and Sapnap decide to try and change the moment from joking to serious. George is trying his best to swallow around a much too big bite of food he’d taken to try and avoid conversation. “George. Sapnap and I have been talking, and we’d really like it if you were to join us.” Dream starts.

George coughs, smacking his chest a few times, while holding up his pointer finger. After a minute of chewing and swallowing, George catches his breath. “Sorry?”

“Dream and I are asking you to be our boyfriend.” Sapnap clarifies.

George looks between them, “Both of you?”

Sapnap and Dream both nod. “Yeah, the three of us. Altogether.”

George pretends to think about it for a minute before inevitably giving in and nodding. “Fine, I guess I can put up with you idiots for the rest of forever,” George says.

Sapnap and Dream grin so hard, George fears they might get lockjaw. Sapnap presses a kiss to George’s lips quickly, before whispering into the minuscule space between them. “That means you’re never getting rid of me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Ha! dream of it.”

Dream wheezes softly, pressing a kiss to George’s temple. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your guys’ idiot.”

George has really annoying neighbors; they work on their cars in the morning and keep him awake with the racket. Now, they wake him up from sleeping and tell him they need to get ready for work, ignoring his “just five more minutes” pleas.