actions speak louder than words {karlnap}

chapter 7

(Karl POV)

My last day in Florida has been uneventful. It's pouring rain, so our beach plans are canceled, and we wind up stuck indoors. 

"What to do, what to do," Nick sings, spinning in a circle in his desk chair, staring at the ceiling with his arms hanging loosley at his sides. His hair is falling down and away from his face in such a way that would be perfect to fill it with a bunch of little braids. He's let me do it before -- braid his hair, I mean. He looked great.

"How about you stop singing?" George asks, scrolling on his phone. His other hand mindlessly runs through Dream's hair as said boyfriend lays with his head on George's chest, also on his phone. 

Skeppy giggles from across the room at that. 

Nick huffs but he relents. His humming cuts off into silence. I give a huff of amusment. I kick Nick's foot, and he looks up at me. At least you were providing background noise, I sign. He laughs. 

"Exactly," he says, sitting up. "Exactly, George."

He gives Sapnap a bored look. "What?"

"Karl, tell George what you told me."

So I do. I sign it again, and he chuckles. 

"Fine," he says. "You know what we're gonna do?" He waits for someone to ask what we're gonna do, which means we all stare blankly at him. He rolls his eyes. "No need to shout, geez. We're having a bake-off. It's decided."

"A bake-off?" Skeppy asks. "Like British Bake-Off? George, you need to lay off the British reality."

He gives Skeppy a glare while Dream makes his first noise in minutes with a big ol' tea kettle wheeze. 

"Fuck you," he says.

"Language," Bad warns, peering over the edge of a book I reccomended him. So far his only complaint is it has too many curse words.

"No, I'm being serious," he continues, ignoring Bad's comment. "We all agree on one thing to bake and we have to try to all use the same kitchen and see who makes the best version of it. Nick, your mom can judge when she get home."

Nick scoffs. "Knowing Bad's baking skills, she'll get salmonella."

Bad gives him an offended look. "Hey!" he shouts. "I can bake just fine."

Nick lets his head fall in my direction, and his gives me a "no he can't" look. I've heard the tales of Bad's failed baking; muffins twice the size of the liners, cookies that broke a tooth, cupcakes that were hard on the outside but still raw in the middle (everyone is still baffled), and a group case of food poisoning after a botched cake. Apparently Bad didn't leave his room for nearly a week from the guilt of that. Just hearing the story made me feel bad.

"Hey," Skeppy says, in that scary angry-calm way, "don't say that, Nicholas." 

For a second, I thought Skeppy was genuinely mad. But when he says Nick's real name, I sigh with relief. I've only ever seen my friends truly angry twice -- when I first met them and Skeppy and Dream defended my honour, and when the guys whose asses they kicked came back to school. I have no desire to see them that mad again.

"Obviously, Bad and I will team," he says, wrapping an arm around Bad's waist. Nick told me a while ago that while Bad is the one who has a major sweet tooth, his boyfriend does all the baking. Which I always thought was super sweet. And just to prove my point further, Bad tilts Skeppy's head towards him and plants a quick kiss on his lips, like he's too shy to do anymore. PDAs aren't really his thing, I've gathered.