“Hey, can you help me cook dinner tonight?” Dream peeks his head into the room where Sapnap is working on editing a video the two of them recorded with George earlier that day.
Sapnap turns around in his chair, raising an eyebrow at the idea of him cooking, “You want me to help cook? Do you want to burn the house down? I don’t know about you, but I kinda like living here.”
“Oh, come on, it’s pasta, how hard can it be?” the taller boy retorts, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. He’s so tall his head is almost touching the top of it, which is a problem Sapnap has never had to deal with. It’s one of his favorite things to make fun of Dream for having to duck to go into rooms for fear of hitting his forehead. However, whenever he did, Dream’s response was usually just to rest his arm on top of Sapnap’s head.
“If it’s so easy why do you need help?” he teases, but he knows he’s going to end up helping Dream anyway. He’s found that while living together it’s gotten increasingly harder to say no to him. Now when Dream asks for things, he’s right there with his goofy grin and tousled hair, not to mention how velvety his voice sounds when there’s no phone interference.
He watches Dream pout and part of him melts. “Because I want you to.”
Sapnap stares at him for a moment before he does the inevitable -- pushing away from his desk and standing with a shake of the head. Dream does a little fist pump, but Sapnap just squeezes past him in the doorway, heading downstairs towards the kitchen.
“Did you even start boiling the water yet?” Sapnap asks once he gets downstairs to their kitchen that looks like it hasn’t been used in weeks. Really, they use it at minimum twice a week, Dream is just a nut about cleaning so it usually looks pristine.
“No, I was waiting for you,” Dream shrugs, grabbing a pot out from their cabinet and filling it up with water, “Pick a pasta, we’re doing alfredo.”
“Wow, getting fancy, are we?” he teases, walking over to the pantry, “Farfalle or penne?”
“You choose!” the other boy insists, that same goofy smile on his face as he turns on the stove.
Sapnap stands up straight, grabbing the farfalle from its place in the pantry, “You’re being weird.”
Dream gasps, looking offended at the notion, “No, I’m not! I just wanna cook dinner with my best friend, what’s so wrong with that?”
“Well, many things, to start, it involves me in a kitchen,” he laughs, handing the pasta box over to Dream who smiles. “No, there’s totally something you’re not telling me. You’ve been weird all week!”
“I have not!” the boy chuckles, getting out a saucepan, “This is cooking, we’re cooking.”
“We’re heating up store-bought food,” he points out, grabbing the premade sauce from the pantry as well. They’re not chefs and they do not try to be. When Dream grabs the sauce, his fingers meet Sapnap’s for a moment and he almost wants to yank his hand back, but he doesn’t wanna risk dropping the bottle. He wishes things hadn’t changed with them. Well, he does and he doesn’t. He likes being friends with Dream and he knows feelings will inevitably ruin either their friendship or they’ll destroy Sapnap by staying bottled up, but even he’ll be the first to admit being able to put a name to the thing that had been making living with Dream so much different was relieving. Still, he knows he’s a hopeless case. Dream is older than him, more successful, definitely better looking, he’s probably better off without someone like Sapnap dragging him down.
“Okay, now you’re being weird,” Dream’s voice and smile soften as he dumps diced chicken in the pan, cooking it a little bit before he lets it cook in the sauce later. “I think there’s something you aren’t telling me, too.”
“You first,” Sapnap jokes, but it’s half-hearted and it’s obvious.
“Hey, truce?” Dream offers, the smile back on his face, “I won’t be weird, you don’t be weird.”
Sapnap sighs before he finds himself smiling too. Dream seems to have that effect on him most of the time, killing him softly every day. He watches as the boy scoops the sauce into the pan, struggling to get the last little bits out.
“No, you gotta hit it like this,” he walks over in front of the stove, pushing Dream to the side as he takes the bottle from him, hitting the bottom of it. He’s acutely aware of the warm breath on his neck from Dream hovering over his shoulder. Carefully, he starts to stir because he may not be good at cooking, but he knows the basics and Dream hasn’t stopped him so he figures he’s doing something right. A moment passes and the other boy rests his head on Sapnap’s shoulder; his breath hitches. “What’s up?”
“Just chillin,” Dream shrugs, but the words are accompanied by his hands wrapping around Sapnap’s waist. They’re a perfect picture of domesticity, but it’s more exciting and confusing than one would think. He sucks in a breath as he feels Dream ever-so-softly press his lips to the inner corner of his neck and shoulder, leaning up to whisper in Sapnap’s ear, “Trying something.”
“Oh, is that what this is?” he shoots back, unsure where the confidence is coming from considering all he is at the moment is nerves. Dream’s lips return to the same spot, more purposeful this time. “ Clay. ”
Dream scoffs, “ Nick. Do you want me to stop?”
They both know what the answer is. “Water’s boiling.”
The taller groans, letting go of Sapnap to grab the box of pasta and dump half of it into the boiling water. Sapnap winces at the lack of warmth. The lid goes on the pot and Sapnap accepts that the moment is over, but his head and heart are still reeling.
“Dream —” Sapnap begins to say, not sure where the sentence is heading, but it doesn’t matter because Dream pulls him by the wrist and presses their lips together. He drops the spoon he was holding into the sauce, but he’ll worry about that later. He’s too enveloped by not only the fact that he’s kissing his best friend whom he has a total schoolgirl crush on but that his best friend kissed him first. He lets his hands cup Dream’s face, fingertips inching into the nape of dark golden hair. He feels Dream smile into the kiss, holding back just to press another and another to his lips.
“The sauce is gonna burn,” Sapnap whispers, letting himself kiss Dream once more, taking in the way the boy is holding him against his chest with his arm pressing against the small of his back. “Is… is this why you were being weird?”
“Why is wanting to cook with you so weird?” Dream exclaims as he pulls the spoon out of the pan that is now covered in sauce, throwing it in the sink before grabbing a new one, “Remind me to never do that again because look what you did to the spoon!”
Sapnap guffaws, shoving the other playfully, “Because you kissed me, asshole!”
“I’ll do it again,” Dream threatens lightly, taking a step closer so Sapnap is forced to look up at him.
He wants nothing more than for Dream to kiss him again, but their dinner is at stake here. “If you’re gonna do it again, turn off the fucking stove first.”
Grinning like the devil, Dream does exactly that before pulling him in once more, his hands cupping his jaw like they belong there. His skin burns so much where they touch he wonders if he would leave prints.
When they pull away, Dream asks, “Is this why you were being weird, too?”
“So you admit you were being weird! God, I knew I was right, you’re such a loser,” Sapnap scoffs, shaking his head as he turns the stove back on and returning to where he had been stirring the sauce. Yes, he was ecstatic that Dream had kissed him and this might actually be a thing now, but he is hungry.
“Whatever, I’m draining the pasta,” the other laughs, not hesitating to press a kiss to the top of Sapnap’s head as he reaches around him to turn off the burner beneath the pot and draining the water through the lid.
“I’m never cooking with you again, you’re insufferable.”
“Nuh-uh, you totally have a crush on me,” Dream shook his head, putting the pot back on the stove before reaching up and grabbing plates down. “That’s so embarrassing, babe.”
“Oh, babe. Getting very… very assuming of you.”
“You can just say presumptuous.”
“Okay,” Dream smiles, kissing him once more. He figures if this is what cooking with Dream entails, he’ll do it again and again.