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Published:
2021-05-25
Updated:
2022-03-15
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11/?
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Bummer

Summary:

Dream wondered if George believed in love at first sight, or if he should walk by again just to make sure they met eyes, that sparks flew, that he was as taken with Dream as Dream was with him.

 

But then Sapnap smacked the back of his head and he nearly tripped over his own feet, flip-flops folding against the unforgiving boardwalk. “Ow. What the hell, Sapnap?”

“Dude. You just checked that guy out so hard. His parents were right there.”

or

George moves into a sleepy coastal town and is unimpressed by Dream’s charms- so obviously Dream has to have him. Sapnap struggles with his love for MILFs and his crushes on the cutie smoothie guy who curses like a sailor and the marine bio major who splashes around tide pools with his purple bucket all day. And then there’s Tommy. He’s... he’s Tommy.

Notes:

No one asked for this, but I needed to write a semi-crack fic of mcyt’s at parties, playing beach volleyball for European glory, a non-canon version of the Disc War, and Dream vs Techno surfing rivals. And love-hate DNF. And karlnapity being karlnapity.

I hope y’all like this as much as I like writing it

Chapter 1: Young & Alive

Chapter Text

The ocean breeze had a way of making coastal air feel fresher in each breath than any inland forest or frigid mountain top. Maybe it was the smell of the salt, or the taste of the foreign lands from which the air had swept. Maybe it was just because it was home.

The sunsets seemed longer here, the colors wavering on the horizon with heat shimmer, sinking like a flooded ship until a blue darkness settled over the land and sea. It was never pitch black, not in their sleepy town where the only light pollution came from the soft yellow glow of the 24 hour Denny’s and the buzzing neon of the dive bars sparsely populated with nodding deadbeat dads. At night, the moon shone like a paper lantern in the sky, the stars hanging behind it like a smattering of angel kisses on the cheeks of a sunkissed face.

The roll of the waves was a melody, and the caws of the seagulls a harmony. Ocean spray splattering on stone was the percussion and the whistle of the wind was the symphony.

All that beautiful ambience, chaotic in a peaceful demeanor, but none of it was quite as beautiful to Dream as George was.

While no one would have been surprised if Dream had been touched by Midas himself, made of pure gold with that tan skin of his, George appeared as if he was a watercolor painted in the rain. His pallor was smooth and pale like the skies of London, his eyes darker than the storm clouds that hovered over the foreign city. Even his sweat in the unfamiliar Florida heat made him glimmer and glow, like dust particles caught in a sunbeam, turning him golden with the sunset.

Dream wondered if George believed in love at first sight, or if he should walk by again just to make sure they met eyes, that sparks flew, that he was as taken with Dream as Dream was with him.

But then Sapnap smacked the back of his head and he nearly tripped over his own feet, flip-flops folding against the unforgiving boardwalk. “Ow. What the hell, Sapnap?”

“Dude. You just checked that guy out so hard. His parents were right there,” Sapnap snickered, and Dream glanced quickly over his shoulder. Sure enough, a man and a woman just as pretty and desaturated as their son were looking back at him, looking mildly uncomfortable. He gave them a sheepish grin and winked at the mother before facing forward again.

“It’s gotta be the new kid, George. They’re moving in down the street,” Dream explained, ignoring the comment about checking him out. “My mom was showing me the Mrs’ Facebook.” All the photos must have been old, though, because this George guy barely looked like same person. He’d grown into his features, his hair was longer and less tame, he was dressed like he put effort in. God, Dream wanted him. Or his mom, he wasn’t above it.

“Dibs on his mom,” Sapnap called, like he could read Dream’s mind. Sometimes Dream was convinced that he could. “I’m doing that pool boy hustle again this summer, can’t wait to motorboat some MILFs.”

Dream snorted. “You’re awful.” Mostly because Dream knew he wasn’t kidding, either. Sapnap had a track record. The dads in town had no fucking idea, but Sapnap was the talk of every PTO meeting- all good things, apparently, according to Dream’s mom who attended and found it absolutely hilarious. She was a little too cool of a parent, honestly. Dream was lucky to have her. And lucky that Sapnap has never tried to bang her. At least, he didn’t think so… “Hey, you’d tell me if you cucked my mom, right?”

“Nope.”

“Eh. Probably for the better.”

“Your older sister, on the other hand-“

Dream dragged Sapnap into a headlock faster than he could get his words out. “Don’t even joke about that,” he warned, screwing up his hair roughly before shoving him away again. Sapnap laughed, bumping their shoulders together.

“Chill out, dude, I’m kidding. Don’t get so butthurt. She’s practically my sister, too.” Sapnap paused, then muttered under his breath, “My step-sister.”

Dream stuck a leg out to trip Sapnap and cackled when he nearly fell on his face. They playfully knocked each other around as they walked, only stopping when their destination came in sight. Sapnap slapped away the arm that Dream had slung over his shoulders and straightened out his white muscle tank. Dream hid a smirk as he watched, but didn’t say anything. There was only one thing he gave Sapnap a free pass on, and that was because it majorly freaked Sapnap out. It was downright adorable to watch.

“Sapnap! Hey, man, what’s up?” The guy behind the smoothie bar counter greeted as they approached, an easy grin on his face. He was a strange character, his nametag reading Alex but everyone called him Quackity. Dream didn’t think he’d ever seen his hair, always tucked under his work cap with the Planet Duck Smoothie logo on it or hidden under a bucket hat on the days he was off roaming the beach. His coworker was equally as weird, and they fought like cats and dogs; the difference was that Dream had known Bad for forever, ever since they met while online gaming, and everyone called him by his age old gamer tag. Quackity was newer to the scene, but he was good company.

“Hi Sapnap, hi Dream!” Bad said cheerfully alongside Quackity. Dream belatedly realized that Quackity hadn’t even bothered acknowledging him. “The usuals?”

Dream nodded, but Sapnap stared past them at the large chalkboard menu taking up half the back wall of the hut. It was a little wooden structure with refrigerators full of fresh fruit and milk and non-dairy alternatives, with a roof that emulated palm fronds and seagrass. “Mmm,” Sapnap hummed, leaning an elbow on the counter before glancing at Quackity. “I’m thinking I want to try something new.”

“Feeling adventurous, Sappy Nappy?” Bad asked lightheartedly as he prepared Dream’s smoothie- a specialty smoothie which was literally called The Dream on their chalkboard because he ordered it so much that it stuck. Sapnap couldn’t be tied down to one flavor long enough to get the privilege, but other people they knew had made it to the board. Their friend slash Dream’s surfboarding rival Techno had named his specialty drink The Nightmare out of spite. Fundy had a smoothie made of every orange fruit known to man called The Foxhole. Karl had a basic strawberry banana smoothie called Time Traveler.

“Oh, I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” Quackity insisted, turning to rifle through the fridge of pre-chopped fruits. “Coconut milk, because you’re an absolute fucking nutjob.”

“Language.”

“Rosewater, because it smells like old lady and you have a MILF fetish.”

“Language!”

“Raspberries, because you pretend you’re sweet but you’re actually a sour little bastard-“

“Quackity!” Bad cried in frustration. “I’m so sorry about him,” he apologized on Quackity’s behalf, but one look at Sapnap said that he couldn’t give two shits about the profanity. Mans had his chin on his fist, making heart eyes at Quackity’s back, clad in his navy work button-up. Or- maybe he was making heart eyes at Quackity’s ass. Dream couldn’t tell. His eyes were aimed below the tie of his black apron, though, that was for sure. Sapnap was the type of freewheeling bisexual to ogle the girls, the gays, and the theys all the same; the guy was insatiably horny and had the weirdest taste. MILFs, for one. Cowboys, for another. A feisty Mexican smoothie connoisseur that curses like a sailor… and a marine biology student with niche interests.

“I’m not finished,” Quackity disregarded Bad, dumping more fruits into the blender. “Coconut meat to really sell what I said earlier. Why’s it gotta be called meat, huh, someone tell me that? It’s a fucking fruit.”

Bad just sighed, giving up.

“Pineapple, for the MILFs’ sake, not yours. And you eat pineapple on pizza like a psychopath, so you better like it.”

“I eat pineapple on pizza,” Dream said defensively as Bad blended up his green smoothie, with flavors of guava and kale and banana and, of course, pineapple, among other things.

“Disgusting. Anyways. What else are we feeling?” Quackity stepped back, hands on his hips, tucking his lip between his teeth. Dream’s head immediately whipped to catch Sapnap’s reaction, and almost laughed out loud at the way he was undressing Quackity with his gaze. He just barely held it in, meeting eyes with Bad, who rolled his own in fondness. “Strawberries would probably taste good in here,” Quackity decided, oblivious to everything, adding a handful. “Squeeze of lemon…” He took a lemon half and crushed it confidently in his hand. Dream had to admit, even though he was just a smoothie guy behind a counter, the dude had stage presence and showmanship. “Good?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at Sapnap, who simply nodded. Dream felt secondhand embarrassment for how whipped he was. Then again, he himself had just decided love at first sight was real after seeing a British guy who looked like a strong breeze would snap him in half.

The roar of blenders filled the small shack, and Dream took the momentary pause in audible conversation to look away from Quackity and Sapnap eye-fucking one another and check his phone. He had a text from his mom telling him to be home to cook dinner for his younger siblings, some news notifications- apparently a baby alligator crawled out of someone’s toilet, and a missed call from-

Fuck,” Dream said just as the blenders stopped. He looked up to Bad’s disappointed expression and Quackity’s grin. He grimaced. “Sorry. Missed a call from my academic advisor.”

“Ooh. That bad, huh?” Quackity asked, and Bad elbowed him. “Ow, what? I call it as I see it.” Dream shrugged.

“I’ve got an incomplete I’m working on right now and I’m retaking one of my CS classes over the summer. It starts next week, which blows, because that’s when I should really start ramping up my surfing for competition season.”

“So what I’m hearing is Techno’s gonna kick your ass again?”

“Hey,” Sapnap cut in. It was comforting, knowing that even in the face of his big fat man crush, Sapnap would still defend Dream’s honor. “Dream’s got it in the bag this year, whether he fails his summer class for the grind or not.” Well, mostly.

“Wow, thanks,” Dream muttered sarcastically, accepting the smoothie Bad slid across the counter to him and digging out his wallet.

“Nah, I’ll pay, you’re in the rough right now,” Sapnap offered, handing over cash to Quackity before Dream could protest. “Keep the change, ya filthy animal.”

“Wha- that’s like ten whole extra bucks,” Quackity said, counting the bills.

“What can I say? Daddy’s got money.”

“Shit… you looking for a sugar baby, or…?”

“Sugar baby?” A new voice asked, and Dream witnessed Sapnap freeze. “Where can I apply? This marine bio degree isn’t gonna pay for itself.” A purple bucket was set on the counter between Sapnap and Dream, Karl’s painted nails, shiny rings, and beaming face attached to it. “No, I’m serious, the job market is really bad for marine biology.”

“Karlos, my man!” Quackity daps him up while Sapnap plasters on a smile. Yeah, Sapnap wasn’t just whipped for one weirdo, but two. It was still a better love triangle than Twilight. “Watcha catch today?”

“Ooh, I want to see!” Bad hurried over to the counter to peer into the bucket. He gasped. “Hermit crabs! Aww, they’re so cute.”

“You can hold ‘em!” Karl offered, diving his hand into the bucket and pulling out a crab. “Just, you know, wash your hands again before touching my smoothie stuff.”

Dream stepped away from their excited talk of sea creatures to listen to the voicemail his advisor left in peace. If she was calling instead of emailing, it couldn’t be anything good. He took a deep breath before pressing the hot phone screen to his ear and turning up the volume to hear over the boisterous atmosphere of the lively boardwalk. His stomach sank as he listened. “Hello, Clay, this is Angela. I just had to warn you that, due to your grades this semester, your GPA has dropped to a 2.8 and you are on academic probation. If you can’t get it to a 3.0 after next semester, you will be kicked from the computer science program. I know you can pull it together, you’re a smart kid, Clay. You just need to get motivated. Feel free to email me with any questions, comments, concerns. Have a nice summer, and make sure you stay on top of the course you’re taking in June! Best of luck, we’ll have a meeting when Fall semester comes to talk about your options, best and worst case scenarios and all that. Bye now!

He let his hand drop, and stared vacantly towards the glimmering ocean. 2.8. Academic probation. You just need to get motivated. He wanted to hurl his phone into the sea and never think about university again. Get motivated. Fuck that. Easier said than done. He loved coding, but the rigid structure of school and the lack of creativity in his assignments crushed him. All he wanted to do was code cool shit into video games for him and his friends to play, and then go surfing, and then- repeat? It was bad. He knew it was bad. He had nothing going for him. His mom was going to kill him. Or, actually, she probably wouldn’t. She’d probably ask him to sit down and talk to her about it, and try to suggest ways to fix it, and it would be too kind of her. He didn’t deserve it. Dream just had to suck it up and get his work done, even when the mental block in his head refused to let him do anything at all. It was bullshit. His brain was bullshit.

He turned back to the smoothie hut with a false grin on his face, shoving his phone in his shorts pocket. Karl was sipping on a Time Traveler already, and talking all their ears off about the tide pools he explored that day. When Dream joined them, slipping into a stool at the counter, Karl easily included him in his tales. Karl had a way of spinning tales from his ordinary, everyday life by casually injecting a little magic into it, as if no one would notice. To be fair, no one ever said anything. If Karl mentioned the faeries in his garden or the sirens out by the jetty’s end, everyone listening just rolled with it and nodded along, accepting the fact that Karl simply saw the world with a little more sparkle than the rest of them. It was something to envy, really. His mind was vibrant and creative, his personality ebullient and vivacious. It was no wonder Big Q and Sapnap were besotted by him.

“And then I met the nicest little sea sprite who pointed me towards the other side of the pool, and guess what! There was a sea cucumber! Oh, it was so cool. I poked it and it got all shriveled up like an old sock.”

“Are those the ones that look like Shrek’s foreskin?” Quackity asked dubiously, resting his arms on the counter space between Karl and Sapnap, a hermit crab laying hidden in its shell on his flattened out palm.

“Yup!” Karl confirmed amiably, as if it was the greatest thing in the world. He was petting the back of the shell and cooing at it as if to coax it out.

“Oh my goodness,” Bad sighed into his palms while Dream and Sapnap laughed.

“What? I need to see one of these for myself,” Sapnap decided, and Karl lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Really? I can take you sometime! I’ve been looking for shark teeth too, we could all have shark tooth necklaces, I can make them with leather cords and they’re really cool,” Karl rambled on at 90 miles per hour, eyes bright like seafoam in the sun, sparkling with excitement. “Big Q, you should come, too! And Bad, and Dream- but only if you guys want. It’s a lot of work honestly and it can be kind of boring and repetitive but-“

“Dude. Calm,” Sapnap giggled, holding his hands up. “I’m down. Q?”

“Totally down,” Quackity responded. “When’s low tide tomorrow?”

“Around 12:30, so we should go at, like… 11 maybe?” Karl fidgeted, waiting for their answers. Bad and Dream had decidedly stepped back from the conversation to let the plans unfold without them. Neither of them felt like laboring through tide pools in the midday sun, and they both wanted to see how this odd throuple progressed on its own. Bad was doodling his dog Rat on a napkin to distract himself, which basically meant drawing a cloud with eyes. Dream stole the pen to draw his cat Patches next to it, except he sucked at drawing so it looked more like a demented raccoon. He mentally apologized to Patches for doing wrong by her image.

“Works for me, I start my shift at two,” he heard Quackity say, and Sapnap quickly agreed that he was free. Dream was astounded. Those two boys had to be down bad to: one, wake up before noon for Karl; and two, hop around tide pools for at least two hours with him in 98 degree weather.

“Cool! I’ll bring sunblock. Gotta keep our skin lookin’ pretty so we can all be nursing home hunks together.”

“You use sunblock? No wonder you’re always so pale,” Sapnap teased, even though Dream had personally rubbed Sapnap in sunscreen every hour in the places he couldn’t reach for their whole lives. The Florida sun was no joke.

“What? I’m not that pale. Look, my freckles are already coming in, see?” Karl leaned towards Sapnap, pointing to his speckled nose and cheekbones. Bad, Dream, and Quackity all watched as Sapnap’s soul left his body at the proximity, panicked eyes flickering over Karl’s face. Karl was smiling like always, though there was a hint of mischief in it, and Dream knew then that Kalr was fully aware that he had the boys wrapped around his little finger. “That’s how you know summer’s here.”

“Right…” Sapnap murmured, clearing his throat as Karl sat normally on his stool again to suck on his straw. Sapnap and Quackity looked at one another, and they both definitely knew what the other was thinking. They had a sort of solidarity between them for their love of Karl. Little did either of them know that they were also head over heels for each other. Dream was waiting for the threesome to happen. He’d owe Eret $20 if it happened before midnight on Karl’s birthday in early July. Karl’s birthday party was always a Survivor themed rager thrown by his friend Jimmy, and Jimmy knew how to fucking party- Eret was betting they’d get fucked up during the darty and fuck before midnight, Dream was betting sensible Karl would take it slow on the beers while Sapnap and Quackity got high and it would happen after midnight when the real chaos tended to begin. If it happened before the birthday party altogether, Punz got the money. If it happened after the birthday party, Fundy got the money.

Was it fucked up to bet on when your best friend would have a threesome?

Sapnap had bet on worse things. Like how many hospital trips Dream would have over the course of one summer. His bet had been over five. Punz said under. The total was technically exactly five, but the count apparently included urgent care, too, so it came out to seven. He broke his nose on his surfboard, cut his foot on coral, got stung by a jellyfish on two separate occasions, got sun poisoning, got a boxing fracture while waxing his board… somehow, and got stitches in his lip after shotgunning a beer because the punctured edge cut it open. He still had a scar from that. It added to his roguish charm, he liked to think.

He was a walking disaster at best. His 2.8 GPA could testify to that.

“Um,” Sapnap finally recovered, holding up his smoothie cup to change the subject. “Q, this drink might be the one.”

“Really? I don’t trust you. You change it up every two weeks,” Quackity accused, and Sapnap shrugged helplessly.

“Then I guess we’ll see in two weeks. I want my name on that board.”

Quackity turned to the board and picked up the chalk to write in small lettering at the bottom Sapnap sucks eggs. He faces the counter again with a satisfied expression. “All you had to do was ask, man.”

“I don’t suck eggs!”

“No, he prefers dick,” Dream chimed in, just to watch his friend flush and try to play it off coolly.

“I- Well- Yeah, and I’m good at it, too.”

Bad hit his head lightly off one of the wooden support beams, closing his eyes and blocking his ears. “Save me, Dream.”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Dream decided, standing up. Bad groaned in betrayal. “You guys are coming to the bonfire Thursday, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Karl said, holding out a white seashell to him. “Here, take this. It reminded me of you.” Dream rolled the shell over in his palm and looked down at it, chuckling when the black markings on it looked like a slightly off-centered smiley face. “See! Looks just like you.”

“Thanks, Karl.” He pocketed the shell. Dream was totally going to make a Mr. Steal Your Girl joke to Sapnap about the moment later. And probably turn the shell into a good luck charm just to keep the spite going. “I’ll see you.”

“Bye, Dream. Tell your sister that I’m single and have a big-“

“No,” Dream shot Sapnap down before he could make another perverted joke about his older sibling. He left it at that with a short wave, walking backwards until they all waved back and called out their goodbyes. The smile slipped off his face as soon as he turned around, nursing his smoothie at his lips to worry the straw between his teeth. The breeze that swept off the water as the sun went down was refreshing in combination with the icy coolness of the smoothie, but he could barely enjoy it with his mind going at lightspeed. His anxiety was translating into anger, and he was pissed at school and at himself and at life in general.

He grabbed his bike from the rack where the boardwalk met the parking lot, tossing his empty smoothie cup into the trash. Perched on the bike seat, he popped his earbuds in and hit play on his bummer playlist, the caption of which was I meant “summer” but whatever. He’d be able to clear his head with some surfing the next day, but for the time being, Wallows and a leisurely bike ride would do him good. He didn’t live far from the boardwalk. The center street of town ran parallel to the shore, and he passed by all the small businesses, the owners of which he knew by name because he and his family knew everyone around. Mr. Price from the sub shop said hi as he passed, and Mrs. Ahmed’s daughter stopped him outside the flower shop to tuck a daisy into his hair. He thanked her, grinning his fuckboy smile just to watch her blush, and she wished him a nice afternoon before scurrying back inside. Dream laughed softly, continuing his familiar route home. It was undeniable that the kind people he’d grown up with had infectious joy- even if his heart was pounding and he felt mildly nauseous thinking about his future beyond this summer of surfing and working and gaming. He shook it off and pedaled harder, turning down 2nd street, the cul-de-sac his house sat at the end of.

His hand clenched hard on the breaks at the end of a driveway at the top of the street. He stretched a foot down to the asphalt to steady himself and looked over.

“Hi.”

George blinked at him in surprise. His soft, dark eyes roamed over Dream’s face, down to his chest in his green tee, up to his blonde hair and the daisy amongst the curls formed from spending the day swimming. “You’re not wearing a helmet.”

Dream had known George was from the UK, but hearing the accent still spurred a small smirk to form on his face. He tried to keep it down, but it was fruitless, so he stood up straighter and let it become full-blown as he responded, “Well, as you can see, I have yet to crack my skull open. So.” He shrugged, tugging his earbuds loose. The British boy regarded him skeptically. “You’re new in town, right?”

“I am…”

Dream spread his arms. “Welcome.” He then extended his hand. “I’m Dream.”

Slowly, dark brows drawn, George shook his hand. The juxtaposition of their skin tones was reminiscent of latte foam, cream and tan. “George. I’m sorry, did you say your name was Dream?

“Well, not my actual name, but that’s what everyone calls me. It’s my gamer tag and the name I put in for surf competitions,” Dream explained sheepishly, hoping the whole gamer tag part wasn’t cringe. George didn’t seem to have much of a reaction to it other than mild curiosity.

“What’s your real name?”

“That’s a privilege you have to earn.” Dream winked.

George looked entirely unimpressed. He folded his arms across his chest, and Dream noticed he had mail in his hand, probably the reason he was at the end of his driveway in the first place. Behind him, Dream could see Minecraft themed beach towels drying on the railing of his front porch, colorful beach chairs leaned against the white garage doors. George waited until they met eyes again. “This whole mysterious act isn’t all that interesting, you know.”

Dream’s eyebrows shot up. That… he’d never gotten that reaction before. It solidified in his mind and his resolve.

I have to have him.

“It’s just tradition around here. Like the weekly bonfire down at the beach every Thursday. Exclusive invite only,” Dream ventured, like baiting along a catfish.

“Is this you exclusively inviting me?”

“Maybe.”

“Ask me properly, and I might say yes.”

Oh my God, I have to have him.

“George,” he smiled sweetly, taking the daisy from his hair and twirling it between his fingers before offering it graciously towards the Brit. “Would you please attend the bonfire this Thursday? We’re all dying to meet you.”

Finally, George’s cold face began to crack, and Dream saw the sunshine break through the facade of clouds. He took the daisy, looking down at the petals briefly before looking up at Dream through his lashes. “I’ll… consider it,” he settled on, but his tone was impish. In the words of Dolly, his voice was soft like summer rain, and Dream meant that with his whole chest.

He settled back onto his bike seat, and nodded once towards George. “See you Thursday, then. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“I said I’ll consider-

“Yup. I heard you.”

Dream rode away, hearing George mutter, “You’re so annoying,” behind him. He sneezed like a kitten, and groaned. “And I’m allergic to pollen!”

Have to have him.

 

 

Sapnap wiped the sweat from his brow, leaning on the end of the pool net’s rod. As he pulled his hair back into a bun, flexing his arms as he did, he asked, “Hey Ms. Jacobs, you don’t mind if I take my shirt off, do you? It is hot out here today.”

“Not at all, sweetheart, you’ve been working so hard. Have some lemonade, for goodness sake.” Ms. Jacobs said, lifting her sunglasses and gesturing towards the lounge chair on the opposite side of the little glass table from her. “Are you hungry? Karl keeps some Kid Cuisine in the house, I don’t know if-“

“Wait, wait, wait. Did you say Karl?” Sapnap cut her off, eyes wide, throwing his shirked off shirt over his shoulder. Would it be weird to put it back on? Uh oh.

“Yes…? My son, Karl? I thought you two were friends. He’s always talking about you.” She tsked. “You know, I’ve been meaning to thank you. His friends don’t usually go to the tide pools with him and it breaks his heart, but he came home so excited yesterday when you and that Alex boy went with him.”

“It- Yeah, no, we’re good friends. It’s no problem. It was fun,” Sapnap replied nervously, his head going fuck, fuck, fuck. I’ve been hitting on Karl’s mom. Why do I care so much? I hit on everyone’s mom. Oh god, but Karl’s mom- “I, um. Think I would like that lemonade. I’m feeling a little…”

Ms. Jacobs shot up from her chair, hurrying over, wincing as her feet left the shade and slapped against the hot pool deck. “Oh, dear, you look a little faint. You sit right here,” she urged, her spindly fingers wrapping around his forearm as she led him to the chair. Sapnap was too shellshocked to even sneak a look at her rack in that sunflower sundress, that was how distraught he was. “I’ll grab you a freeze pop, you drink this.” She placed a cool glass of lemonade in his hand, and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, tsking again. “Take as long as you need, hon, the pool can wait. Okay? I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Ms. Jacobs closed the sliding glass door behind herself up on the patio, Sapnap dug his phone out of his pocket to panic text Dream, gulping down cold lemonade as he fumbled the app open.

dude, dude

Dweeeaamm
if ur about to tell me about the milf u just railed, save it lol

NO
listen to me
ive been flirting with fucking KARLS MOM

Dweeeaamm
.......pls say u fucked karls mom, ill piss myself

u suck
i didnt fuck karls mom
but i was planning on it!!!!
oh god what fi i had

Dweeeaamm
lmao im telling quackity

friendship over i literally hate u
this is seruous i took my shirt off and everyrhing

He heard the door open and scrambled to put his phone away, looking up innocently. His stomach dropped when Karl stepped out, squinting under the high noon sun, a Kid Cuisine in one hand and two freeze pops in the other. He waved with the freeze pop hand, orange and grape flavored, taking in Sapnap’s body from afar. Quite obviously, too. Did he know? Was he suspicious? Or was he checking Sapnap out? Man, Sapnap hoped Karl was checking him out.

“Hey, Sapnap. I just got back from my internship, my mom said you might want one of these bad boys.” He shook the blue plastic food container and bounced jovially down the steps to the pool deck, stealing the other lounge chair, sitting sideways on the edge to be closer to Sapnap. “I figured we could share it since it’s my last one. There’s five nuggets, though, so you can have three of them. And you can have the fudge brownie.” He scrunched his nose, and dammit it was cute. “I don’t like chocolate that much. There’s two compartments of cheesy mac, so that’s perfect. You feeling okay, buddy? Oh! And these. Which color do you want?” He held out the freeze pops.

Sapnap took the orange one and absentmindedly ripped it open with his teeth. When he looked up, though, Karl was watching raptly before doing the same- well, trying to. He growled around the pop in his mouth, wincing when it yanked out without having ripped.

“Ouch. What the honk? How’d you do that,” he muttered, inspecting it. He stuck his purple tube out towards Sapnap. “Do it for me? Please?”

It was official. The Jacobs family was out to get him. He leaned forward, getting the plastic between his teeth and jerking his head to rip it open. Karl stole the plastic piece from Sapnap’s mouth cheekily and put it down on the table with the other one. Then, without a care in the world, put his lips where Sapnap’s had just been and began to suck at the purple popsicle inside the plastic sleeve. That was a mutual indirect kiss. What am I, ten? Sapnap was hopeless.

“Eat up, handsome, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“You’re so bold,” Sapnap murmured incredulously, shaking his head and eating his freeze pop, fresh orange bursting over his tongue. Karl laughed, the sound high and bubbly, eyes squeezing into crescents. Sapnap breathed his own ludicrous laugh.

“You didn’t flirt with my mom, did you?” Karl asked, once again eyeing Sapnap’s state of undress.

“...to be clear, I didn’t know she was your mom.”

“Sapnap!”

“I’m sorry! She’s hot, I couldn’t help it!”

“That’s it. You get two nuggets, I get three.”

“Hey, boys. Nick, are you feeling better?” Ms. Jacobs asked from the door, head peering out.

“Yes, Ms. Jacobs. My bad, I’ll get back to work,” Sapnap promised, about to stand when Karl put a hand on his shoulder, fingertips cool in comparison to Sapnap’s sun-warmed skin. The contact lingered while Karl reprimanded him.

“Whoa, there, big guy. Mom taught me to always finish your meal before leaving the table. Eat up, then I’ll grab my speaker and keep you company while you finish.”

“That’s my boy!” Ms. Jacobs smiled brightly. “Take your time, sweetheart! I’ll be right inside if you need anything. Snacks, a condom.” She ducked back into the house, leaving them alone again. Sapnap gaped at the place she had just occupied.

“Did she just suggestively quote Mean Girls at us?”

Karl kicked his legs up onto the lounge chair and laid against the propped up back, popping a star-shaped nugget into his mouth. “Yup. That’s my mom, for ya. She’s a real peach, but sorry Sapnap, I’ll be the one enjoying the view from here on out.”

“Should I put my shirt back on…?”

“Honk no, I just said I wanted to enjoy the view. Take a nuggie and relax, come on now.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

 

“Gentlemen… and Niki, honorary gentleman… we have a situation.”

Tommy paced the plywood floors of the treehouse, hands folded behind his back, chin tilted up proudly. Tubbo, Jack, and Niki sat obediently in their folding chairs, eyes glued to the boy in the white and red t-shirt. Wilbur leaned against the back wall of the little house, legs crossed at the ankle and arms folded over his chest, observing. Fundy was late, as per usual, but Tommy wasn’t concerned about him. He interacted with the Americans far too much for comfort, anyways.

“What is it, Mr. VP?” Wilbur asked fondly. Ever since Tommy and Tubbo moved in when they were wee little 8-year-olds, the older Europeans of the town had taken them under their wing and humored their amusing games. Tommy’s neighborhood was their kingdom, Wilbur the ruler, Tommy his right hand man. Big, fantastical stories of revolution and war and camaraderie and “European independence.” It may or may not have been heavily influenced by Tommy and Tubbo’s third grade history class, in which they learned about the founding fathers and the Revolutionary War. It kind of just stuck around for all those years, and they constantly made reminiscent references to it. They even had the original crayon drawings of the flag they’d made up thumbtacked to the walls, and a real one Wilbur got custom made for the outside of the treehouse- their base of operations, in a great oak in Tommy’s backyard.

“There’s a new European in town,” he said quietly, stopping to face his friends.

“Oh! That’s wonderful,” Niki cheered. “I think I heard about that, actually.”

“Yes, yes, it would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?” He pondered, then escalated to shouting in a split second. “But Dream has already got his filthy hands on him!”

Tubbo, ever the loyal soldier, backed him up with a hearty, “No! Oh god, it’s awful! We have to save them. Wait, is it a woman, Tommy?”

“No, Tubbo, it is not a woman,” Tommy’s voice lowered in a show of confidence. “If it was a woman, Dream wouldn’t have stood a chance. I already would have blown her away with my charm and good looks. Obviously.” Volume back to ten, he continued on his tirade: “It is a man! And his name… is George. If we don’t act quick, men- and Niki, honorary man- then he may side with the Americans.”

“What’s going on here? I heard Americans,” Fundy spoke from the ladder, poking his head up from the platform outside the door. He struggled the rest of the way up, a little shakily. He hated heights, and still wasn’t used to the treehouse’s wobbly wood-and-rope ladder. It also didn’t help that Tubbo once broke his arm climbing it… but that was besides the point.

“We’re discussing the new Brit in town, a fellow named George,” Wilbur filled him in as Fundy took his place between Jack and Niki. Wilbur took the opportunity to tousle his white-streaked hair, to Fundy’s stony faced chagrin.

“Oh. George. Bad was talking about him. Apparently Dream invited him to the bonfire tomorrow,” Fundy shared, and Tommy’s jaw dropped.

“He what?” Tommy squeaked in outrage. “No, no! You know what that means, don’t you? Oh god, it’ll be too late. Wilbur, Fundy, Niki- you have to go.”

“I’m not invited, though,” Niki reminded him. “I’m not very close with any of them, and they only let certain people come.”

“Well, isn’t it obvious? Wilbur or Fundy should invite you, then.”

“Ohh… no,” Wilbur said decidedly. “That has, um. Implications, Tommy. These lot are awful when it comes to bonfire night. Seriously. But, that’s why it might not be so bad if Dream has invited George.”

“...Why is that? Sorry, I’m lost.” Tommy glanced between all the adults in the room, each with their lips pressed tight. He nodded. “Right. Got it. Not for my young, innocent ears to hear.” He coughed dramatically. “Moving on, then. Tubbo has an announcement.”

“I do?” Tubbo wondered, looking puzzled. Tommy stared at him flatly, watching Tubbo struggle for nearly ten seconds before he remembered. Tubbo’s eyes brightened. “Oh, I do!” He leapt up from his chair, and Tommy promptly stole the seat to allow Tubbo center stage in the treehouse, pinching the bridge of his nose in disdain. “I’ve made a friend!”

“Is that who was awkwardly standing in Tommy’s backyard? The tall fella with the…” Fundy gestured vaguely to his own face. “All the stuff?”

Wilbur walked to the treehouse’s window to lean outside. He stayed still for a moment before pulling himself back in, and pointing out the square cut hole. “Tubbo… why didn’t you invite him in?”

“I don’t know, it’s our secret meeting treehouse. And, well… there’s just one teeny, tiny catch…” He went through the door to the platform and called down, “Ranboo? You can come up now!”

Some grunts and the usual creaking of the rope under a person’s weight later, and the tallest kid Tommy had ever seen ducked through into the treehouse with Tubbo. Their size difference was comical, and a startled laugh burst from Tommy’s throat. He slapped a hand over his own mouth. “Sorry, sorry. Just- good lord, you look like Tom and Jerry standing next to one another. He might be taller than Wilbur.”

“He is,” Tubbo confirmed, looking up at his new, tall friend. “6’6, to be exact!”

“We are now enemies,” Wilbur decided jokingly.

“Oh dear… not already,” the stranger spoke.

Tommy’s jaw fell even harder, and he stood harshly from his chair, the plastic falling backwards from the force. “No, we are now enemies!” Except, unlike Wilbur, Tommy meant it with utmost seriousness. “Tubbo! He’s an American!”

“But he’s really cool,” Tubbo said simply. “And he’s mysterious!”

It was true. He was a giant, lanky boy with a black and white face mask and sunglasses covering his features. All they could see was fluffy, dirty blonde hair. Tommy narrowed his eyes at this- this Ranboo, as Tubbo had called him. “Yeah, what’s with that?”

“Oh, I’m- I have real bad, um, social anxiety,” Ranboo stammered apologetically. “It just makes me more comfortable.”

Tommy grumbled, unable to mock that reasoning without being an arsehole, so he fixed his chair and sat down gruffly, arms crossed tight over his chest.

“Hey, I think he’d fit right in, American or not,” Jack piped up for the first time, and held his hands up in defense when Tommy glared at him. “What? I’m just saying! He seems as much an outcast as the rest of us. No offense, Rainbow.”

“Ranboo,” Tubbo corrected.

“Yeah, whatever. I say we welcome him to the club.” Jack sat back, throwing his arms behind his head and crossing his feet.

“Me, too,” Niki added, smiling in that gentle way of hers. “It’s nice to meet you, Ranboo. I’m Niki. That’s Jack, and that’s Fundy, Wilbur, and-“

“And I’m Tommy. Remember the name, for I am your nemesis,” Tommy threatened, tone gone cold. Tubbo didn’t bother hiding the way he rolled his eyes, and Tommy stood up from his chair again, shaking an angry fist at him. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Tubbo, you have betrayed this country!”

“What, L’Manburg? Tommy, we made that up in year four. Er, third grade. It’s one American. And to be fair- he hates it here!” Tubbo cried.

“It’s true,” Ranboo vouched. “I hate it here. Especially Florida. I really do.”

Tommy’s face screwed up in consideration, tapping his foot impatiently. “Alright, then, Ranboo. Who’s your favorite woman.”

“My favorite- my favorite woman?” Ranboo echoed in confusion. Tubbo nodded, and Tommy waited with his sour face screwed up in scrutiny. “Um. Well. Maybe my mom- wait. No. I have an actual answer to this. Congresswoman AOC.”

Wilbur started clapping. “He’s in. Tommy, sit down.”

“Wha- no, no he is not! Who is that? Who is A-O-C? What does that mean?” Tommy argued, but still sat at Wilbur’s command.

“Tommy, remember that video I shared with you? Of that badass woman who absolutely destroyed Mark Zuckerburg during his congressional testimony?”

Tommy paused, crystal blue eyes floating to the ceiling as he remembered. “Oh. Yeah. I liked that woman. That’s a good woman.” He slashed his gaze back to Ranboo, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Alright, you bloody American, you win this round. You’re in, but just know that you’re on thin fucking ice, big guy. Got it? All hail the Queen.”

“Loud and clear,” Ranboo said formally, shuffling from foot to foot nervously. “So… what am I in on, exactly…?”

Tommy threw his hands up in defeat, floundering on insults that never quite made it out of his mouth.

“Well, we kind of just play video games and try to beat the Americans in beach volleyball,” Tubbo explained. “That’s really all there is to it. Oh, and we hate Dream.” He then stage-whispered, “Well, not actually, he’s a really nice guy- we just pretend we hate him so his ego doesn’t get any bigger than it already is. I have a feeling that’s why Dream pretends to hate Tommy, too. The ego.”

Tommy blinked at him, dumbfounded. “Tubbo, I’m right here.”

“You heard nothing.”

“No, actually, I heard everything.”

“...I have to go feed my… pet… bee.”

“You don’t have a pet bee, Tubbo. No one has pet bees.”

“Well, to be fair, beekeepers technically have pet bees. And he did name a bumble bee he found in the hedges Spins on the way here. And I’ll shut up now because I’m on thin ice,” Ranboo quieted himself, rocking back and forth of the balls of his feet.

“Yeah, I like this guy,” Jack nodded approvingly, just because he loved anyone who antagonized Tommy.

“Thanks!”

“Fucking hell,” Tommy grumbled. “It’s going to be a long summer.”