Coming Undone by purplesunsets

3

TW: for brief homophobic language!

"Crap, it sounds rough out there." Clay mumbles groggily. The wind whistles and howls outside the window.

"Yeah." George's voice is muffled against Clay's t-shirt.

"Come here." Clay says tenderly, and pulls George impossibly closer. His hands can nearly encircle George's waist. He presses his lips against George's scalp and George leans into the touch.

George runs his fingers along the supple inside of Clay's wrist. He presses harder against the prominent vein at the place where Clay's wrist meets his hand. He can feel Clay's pulse, slow and steady.

"I'm sorry." George thinks he hears Clay whisper, but when he glances up, Clay is sound asleep. He's tired enough where his brain is probably just playing tricks on him.

George runs his fingers through Clay's hair and falls asleep with warmth in his heart.

—

"Be more careful, dumbass." Clay tsks.

"Oh. Oops." George stares down at the small cut on his thumb. Blood is starting to bead at the seams of the wound.

"Don't just stand there, you're going to bleed on the cucumbers." Clay yanks his hand away from the chopping board.

Before George can process what's happening, Clay has George's thumb in his mouth. George can feel Clay's tongue lapping up the blood. His mouth is hot and velvety soft and George tells himself that he shouldn't like this.

"That's not sanitary, Clay." George clears his throat but doesn't pull his hand away.

Clay doesn't break eye contact as he slowly takes George's thumb out of his mouth.

"Why? It's not like you don't know where my mouth's been." Clay smirks and presses his lips against George's.

The faint flavor of George's blood on Clay's tongue lingers.

George melts into the kiss, and any thoughts that he had about how hot that was or how fucked up it is that he liked it are forgotten.

—

"Do you want to go on a date? Like, an actual one."

"What?" George blanches.

"A date. With me." Clay replies evenly.

"Now?" George asks incredulously. "We're in a fucking hurricane."

"No, idiot. Not now." Clay laughs. "After the hurricane passes."

"Won't things be destroyed and shit?"

"It's Florida, we're used to having a yearly apocalypse."

"Oh." George replies dumbly. Then he thinks about it. "Date?!"

"Yeah. Was that part unclear?" Clay asks dryly.

"You like me?"

"Either you're really dense or playing hard to get." Clay rolls his eyes. "Yes , I like you. I thought it was obvious. I don't usually spoon with people I don't like."

"I mean, yeah." George flushes.

"So, what's it going to be Georgie?" Clay smirks. "Will you go on a date with me?"

"No." George intones sarcastically. "I'm joking. Yes, I'll go on a date with you." George allows himself to smile despite the sirens that ring quietly in the back of his mind.

A voice—nearly silent, but still there— tells him that he should run while he still can.

—