Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

sapnap is sitting by the window in his room, watching the dark clouds as they glide past in the sky. he has one crayon held tightly in his left hand and a book of plain paper on the floor before him as he draws the view of the outside from his window.

more than anything, he really wants to go and run about a bit. the little had been imagining himself as an olympic runner and it got him in the mood to be active, but he shouldn't go outside without permission and he doesn't want to be punished.

more so, at the mental age of seven, sapnap has an unconscious feeling of dread towards his father figure, and he is too scared of the concept of his dad to go and ask dream if he can go out.

he could ask his mom, but george is probably wherever dream is, hanging out and avoiding the elephant in the room, so sapnap has trapped himself in his bedroom to avoid it all.

he is usually younger when he regresses, so he's more aware of things that he'd normally ignore, like the sounds creaking through the house and the impending disappointment of the sun setting. it will probably still be a few hours yet, but it's going to happen and then his wishes to play outside will come to an official end, which is sad.

he looks back at the page before him, humming in contemplation as he decides what to add next. so far, his picture only consists of the sky, because he only has one green crayon and it's his favourite one. he doesn't want to waste it on scribbling lots of grass because then it will get smaller and smaller until it is gone!

sapnap is familiar with running out of things, because most of the pens he has under his bed are nearly out of ink and he can only colour pictures that won't require a lot of certain colours, like reds and greens.

big-sapnap has plenty of money to buy himself new materials and such, but there is a guilt that comes with the action that he can't handle. little-him would love it, but he can't handle the embarrassment that comes with it when he isn't regressed. sapnap can't buy it while small, though, because the regressor has these ideas in his head about breaking the rules and being bad, and he is far too scared to accidentally do something wrong.

so he keeps to himself and does his own thing.

except he really needs something green for his picture, and he really doesn't want to use his favourite crayon.

he picks it up to stare at, asking himself if he should just do it, but the colour is so pretty and the shape is so perfect and smooth. the thought of ruining it makes his tummy feel funny, and he can't bring himself to do such a thing.

crayon in hand, sapnap gets up.

his colouring pencils are downstairs. he remembers because big-sapnap had seen them on the table this morning and flushed over the embarrassing memory of little-him making cards for his mom and dad. the little is scared, but he believes in himself and his ability to sneak downstairs to go and get a green without being noticed.

so he creeps out of his room, tip-toeing slowly down the hallway. laughter echoes up the stairs and he tries to work out what direction the sound is coming from. he thinks it might be the kitchen, which means he can leave plenty of space between him and his dad.

sapnap shuffles down the stairs on his bottom, sliding slowly down each one and pausing on every step so he can listen out in case anyone is coming. it isn't until he hits the last stair that he stops and pushes himself back into a standing position.

his tummy flips, feeling uneasy, and he glances down at the green crayon in his fist to remind himself of why he is doing this.

the ravenette sucks in a big breath, holds it inside of him, and then blows it carefully out again. feeling a little better, he continues his journey across the living room to the coffee table, where he crawls and ducks his head to hide behind the couch.

out of sight, he reaches up to grab his pencil pot. they all rattle against each other when they move, and sapnap winces when the voices in the kitchen come to a stop.

he waits, holding his breath, trying to understand what the murmurs are saying.

then, he jumps, nearly dropping his favourite crayon, when he unexpectedly hears, "sapnap?"

he turns quickly towards the voice, heart racing, but relaxes when he sees the familiar brit. "mom," he says, almost to himself, as his shoulders untense and he leans back against the couch. "i was just getting a colouring pencil."

"i didn't hear you come down," george says, his tone just a pitch sweeter than usual. "you must've been super quiet."

sapnap knows he isn't allowed to talk bad about his dad, so he doesn't explain why he was being sneaky. instead, in an attempt to change the subject, he says, "i'm colouring because i want to go outside."

george's head tilts ever so slightly, confusion washing over his features, before he masks his lack of understanding and asks for clarification, "you want to go outside now?"

the little nods firmly. it feels wrong to ask, because he should keep himself busy and stay out of the way, but if his mommy offers...

"i'll go outside with you."

the ravenette perks up, his eyes widening in excitement as a grin finds his features. "really?!" he asks, energy buzzing through him as he places the pencil pot back on the table, completely forgetting about his picture.

"yeah, of course," george laughs fondly. "it'll have to be just us, though, because dad's gone to read."

sapnap tries not to look too excited, just in case mom tells dad and dad gets angry at him. instead, he only nods, so his emotions aren't given away, even though this is exactly what he wanted.

with his crayon still in hand, sapnap gets up and takes hold of george's sweater, leading him through the lounge and all the way to the back of the house. the clouds outside are still dark, but sapnap doesn't mind the cold.

he is too excited to search through their bushes and see if he can find any creepy crawlies.

☂

"okay, come on, it's time to call it a day," his mom speaks loudly over the sound of the rain.

the little glances up, having been totally entranced with the mini stick house he had been making, and smiles brightly at the sight of the brunette. sapnap's time outside had been everything he was wanting, and the contentment he felt only served to make him regress further.

now balancing at the age of about four, the little laughs to himself as he stares up at george.

the brunette smiles back, liking the sight of his friend at peace, and then holds out a hand. "come on," he urges, shaking his fingers.

sapnap is too distracted to notice the way that george still tenses when their hands make contact. to him, all he feels is the warmth of fingers holding his own and the gentle pull as george helps him up off of the ground.

he feels a little unsteady, like he shouldn't be as tall as he is, but the feeling subsides quickly as he follows his mom back into the house. he is vaguely aware of the sound of pans clattering in the kitchen but chooses to ignore it.

george leads him through to the lounge, gesturing for the regressor to get comfortable on the couch. "i'll get you some comfy clothes and a blanket to warm you up. do you want to finish your colouring?"

sapnap's heart drops as he sits up suddenly, his vision going white for a split second before he gasps and regains focus. "my crayon!" he shouts, definitely not in his indoor voice.

the ravenette scrambles up off of the couch, feeling a gaping hole start to open in his tummy. he left his crayon outside! in his head, he can see the flash of green under one of the bushes, getting deeper and deeper in a puddle until its colour is ruined and the shape is all wrong.

sapnap makes a mad dash for the door, but george catches his hand before he can go.

"pandas, you can't go back out now," george tells him gently. "it's too rainy, you'll get sick."

"but my crayon!" sapnap insists, looking over at the back door. he feels his eyes start to burn as his tears build, his hands going shakey with unease. "it will be sad and cold and all alone in the rain!"

"it's alright, i'll pop out and get it," dream steps out from the kitchen, drying his wet hands on a tea towel. "where is it?"

sapnap looks over at the blond and his worry is replaced with a sickening fear. he steps back, retreating behind george and taking a hold of the back of the brunette's shirt.

"sapnap?" george prompts, seeming confused. "where did you leave it?"

"uh..." his mind feels blank. he resists the urge to look out from behind his mommy, not wanting to see his dad. "i dunno," he answers quietly. the ravenette can't help but wonder if his daddy will be mad at him for losing it, even though he never cared about it when sapnap had it.

"that's alright, i'll just go look for it."

sapnap flinches when the tea towel lands on the back of the couch just a few feet from him. was dad trying to throw it at him?

"the rain is really picking up, dream," george warns, his brows drawn together with unease. sapnap sees none of this, hiding behind the brit. "what if you get sick?"

"i'll be fine," the blond assures. "how hard can it be to find a crayon in our garden?"

sapnap moves impossibly closer to the brit before him, pressing his face into the material that covers the other's back. he pictures his dad going out to get the crayon, finding it, and then snapping it in half before stomping it into the dirt.

the tears in his eyes slip free, and he fails to muffle his cries.

"he's upset george, you have to let me go find it."

"fine, but be quick."

Chapter Text

george turns back at the sound of feet tapping quietly against the kitchen floor. he smiles at the sight of the ravenette, immediately being able to tell that he's regressed just from his shy body language.

"heya pandas," he greets, turning back to the hob. with sapnap's tense shoulders and bowed head, the brunette supposes it wouldn't be good to stare him down. "you alright?"

the brit listens to the ruffle of sapnap shuffling minutely for a moment before the ravenette finally speaks. "watcha doin'?" he asks rather than answering the other's question.

george, back to the little, gestures to the big pan before him. "i'm making soup," he explains, refraining from immediately adding how poorly he thinks he is doing. george has a habit of undermining things that he's put genuine effort into, but the regressor doesn't need to be exposed to that.

"for dream?"

"yeah," george nods. he reaches over to pull the bowl on the side slightly closer, almost ready to serve a portion.

it feels weird cooking for someone when they're ill and being so overt with his care. george's dad obviously looked after him when he was sick as a child, but it wasn't in a doting way. he would do the necessary things to help him get well, like buying medicine or making him hot water bottles, but there was no coddling.

his dad never asked how he is feeling each day, not if he was clearly still ill, and he wouldn't snuggle with him on the couch until he was back in shape.

george's dad was more of a friend in that situation, in the way that he would keep george company from a safe distance or do a shop run if it was necessary. but then, george's dad has always been more like a friend to him.

"b'cos he is sick?" sapnap's socks rub against the kitchen floor as he shuffles over, and george can feel the ravenette watching over his shoulder as he takes a tiny taste of the soup.

the flavours explode on his tongue. it's a bit strong for him, since he prefers milder foods, but dream is much more culinarily adventurous and his cold has dulled his senses, so it will do him good to have something strong.

"yeah, pandas, because he is sick," george confirms in an unnatural-feeling sweet tone. he has never had to care for another person like he does little-sapnap and it's all foreign to him. george finds himself making it up as he goes along, since he doesn't really have any personal experience to go off. "hopefully it will help him feel better."

"can i help?"

george looks back at the ravenette with a smile. george loves sapnap, regressed or otherwise (though he would never say it) and he thinks that factor is what makes it possible for him to go against his nature to make the other happy. it's difficult, don't get him wrong, but he would struggle more to act this way for someone he doesn't care for so deeply.

"of course you can, bud," he assures. the soup isn't too hot, which he knows from just tasting, so george tasks sapnap with the job of using a ladle to move a portion from the pan into the bowl.

the ravenette does so without any problem, which indicates that he's on the older end of the spectrum- maybe closer to six or seven.

"perfect," george praises when the ravenette safely leaves the ladle in the large pan. george decides then that he'll add something to dull the flavours a tad so he and sapnap can finish the large portion for their own dinner. "shall we take the food to dream? he's reading in bed, i think."

george holds out the bowl to the other, trusting he's at a mental age to safely carry it, and feels a little surprised when the other takes a big step backwards, like cowering away.

"uh, no thank you," sapnap responds overly politely, his hands tucking neatly into his pockets.

"you don't want to carry it?" george checks, unsure what the other is against.

"i am going back to my room," the ravenette answers unclearly, stepping away and retreating towards the stairs. "thank you for letting me help."

george feels perplexed by the spontaneous exit, and he stands in a thoughtful silence for a few long moments before remembering about the soup in his hands. he'll check on the regressor later; he needs to take the food to dream first.

abandoning the kitchen and his wondering thoughts, george sets off down the downstairs hallway towards dream's bedroom.

he is distantly aware of the unexplained trend in sapnap's behaviour: ignoring dream while regressed. noticing this, however, is not enough to explain why it is happening or question the ravenette on his choices. children's minds work in wonderful ways.

george kicks the door open with the heel of his foot since it wasn't properly shut, backing into the room before turning to face the blond.

dream is lying in bed with his head propped up by a mountain of pillows. his bedside cabinet has a box of tissues on it and his bin (which he moved from under his desk) is almost full by the side of his bed. he looks cosy, cuddled under blankets with the warm yellow light of his lamp warming the space.

the blond looks up from his book with bleary eyes, and george has a feeling that he had been about to doze off mid-page before being interrupted.

"i made you soup," he explains, nodding down at the bowl in his hand.

dream smiles, reaching for the stray post-it on the pillow beside him. he slides it into his book to save the page as he responds, "thank you so much. you're the best."

george glows a little on the inside, pleased to have been helpful. he barely holds back the flustered smile that tries to find his features as he crosses the room. "you would do the same for me," he dismisses as he passes the food to the other.

thankfully, dream decides not to point out that he does do the same, practically every day. george has hardly cooked at all since moving to america, but it's clear that the blond enjoys spending time in the kitchen and providing for his friends.

george, reluctant to leave already, takes a seat at the blonde's desk as the other starts to eat. he glances around at the space, mainly tidy besides the influx of post-its scattered around the place. he takes note of one that's stuck on the wall, reading it out, "gogy wardrobe." he turns in the desk chair to face the sick boy. "'gogy'? seriously?"

dream smiles to himself, and george hates how adorable he looks with his pink nose and chapped lips. "it's quicker to write?" he offers as an excuse, but even he sounds unsure.

"sure it is," the brit mutters with playful sarcasm as he turns back to the desk. he continues to read the random notes that dream has jotted down for himself and, when he runs out of those, he shifts to reading the book names on the blonde's tall bookshelves.

"george?"

the brit hums, trying to get past boring titles like 'the courage to be disliked' and 'the signalman'. he needs to find something suspicious enough to make fun of, and he knows the blond has sex books somewhere on the shelf.

"are we dating?"

that pulls his attention immediately away from the books, and his eyes widen at the forward question. he hates conversations like this, when he feels like his emotions are on display. "uh, well..." he looks back at the shelves, because the eye contact makes it harder. "i guess we've been on dates."

if by 'dates', one means spending time as a pair within the comfort of their home and going on a late-night drive for ice cream once.

"not like that," dream corrects, which is what george was worried he would do. "like, as in, are you my boyfriend? am i yours?"

george wants to brush over the subject by asking if dream had a bad enough fever to make him delusional but he fears hurting the other's feelings too badly. he dislikes the serious tone of their conversation but he would hate upsetting dream even more.

he doesn't want to diminish something that clearly means something to his friend.

more importantly, he doesn't want to do the same thing his father did to him and create an environment where people feel unable to talk comfortably. he doesn't want dream to start dreading these conversations or holding himself back because he fears the possible responses.

"i could be. you could be," george says with a shrug. of course he wants them to be together, but he doesn't want to get it wrong. what if dream is hoping the answer is no? what if the blond has decided he can't handle george's emotional immaturity?

but dream just says, "okay good," and george looks over to see the blond tucking back into his dinner like nothing had changed.