Dont read this, this is just for stories i want read

take one, call it even; take two, call me selfish

It’s then that George registers how very overwhelmed he is right now.

He’s happy— very much so— but Dream is… big. He’s broad, and taller than him to the point that he has to bend to hold him. They part and he doesn’t really have much time to gather his thoughts before another body comes crashing into him. It’s a little less overbearing than Dream was, it’s still like a solid warmth enveloping his whole form— unrelated to the Florida heat that was consuming him slowly. It was Sapnap, nuzzling his nose into George’s cheek with little coos of how he was ‘ So happy that his Gogy was tiny and cute, just like he knew he’d be!’ .

George gives him a squeeze back, but internally, he’s having a dilemma. Sapnap’s arms around him are much fuller than his own, his chest wider, and the inch of height feeling like a foot in this moment.

He really is smaller than them.

Shit.

——

George tries not to dwell on the fact that the other two were most definitely right about him— he was smaller than them in so many senses beyond his height. But he really can’t stop himself when he’s reminded every time practically anything happens with the other two.

For example…

Sapnap gives him a switch controller, the thing swallowed up by his hands but once George has it, it likes his hands fits it’s tiny size perfectly. It makes him feel flustered, but Sapnap doesn’t seem to notice, just starting up their game with a dopey smile.

He doesn’t spend too much time on that, despite knowing Sapnap could probably comfortably hold both his hands in one of his own, and just enjoys a game of Mario Kart. They get loud and competitive, but George manages to overtake him in the end and come skating across the finish line for a solid win.

Sapnap lets out a heavy groan, falling into George’s side in defeat as he begins to complain about how his controller must’ve been busted or something. George tunes him out, thinking about how little his arms look up against Sapnap’s. Thinks about how he’s got a taller, prouder stature (even when he’s slumped over on him), and George is sunken into the cushion feeling like he’s the size of a mouse. He notices their knees next to each other, how his connect to frail looking thighs, and the other man has a muscle to his that is defined even behind the denim.

George is brought back to reality by a shift in the couch as Sapnap sits himself back up, back straight and face determined as the next race starts, and he can tell he’s gone a bit red in the face. Christ, he needed to get his shit together.

George loses that time.

Then he’d been helping Dream make food that night, the blonde instructing him to grab him a certain spice from the cabinets. He can reach the top shelf, he’s really not all that short, but it’s the depth of the cabinet that catches him unable to grasp it. Of course it had to be all the way at the back. He tilts onto his tiptoes, making a growling sound of determination before he feels a large presence behind him.

Dream’s chest presses into his back, and he reaches to grab the little bottle from its home in the corner of the cupboard. It’s brief, and he backs away almost as quickly as he came, making some snarky comments about how he ‘thought George was going to make him eat his words about his stature.’