🐚 | mcyt oneshots (discontinued)

high all the time [g.n]

i have another idea where george is the officer outside the cell too but this is the first one lmao

pairing; georgenotfound/george + sapnap/nick

prompt; i fucked up big time so now i'm waiting for my friend to bail me out but you're cool ig

title from; you get me so high, the neighbourhood

tws; prison, swearing

---

"what the fuck did you do."

clay's voice was calm. it scared nick how deadpan clay could be when he was angry.

"i, um, just some... minor vandalism on the side of a building?" nick giggled nervously. even though clay couldn't see him and he couldn't see clay, nick had his hand over his eyes, almost in fear as to what the other would do.

"minor vandalism? nick, you either spray paint the side of a fucking walmart or the underside of a bridge. there is no in between," clay growled.

"just bail me out. please?" nick whispered. he glanced at the officer to his right, his breath catching in his throat.

"you're a fucking idiot."

nick heard the line go dead. he set the phone down and the officer picked it up.

"i'll take you to the holding cell," the officer said gruffly, grabbing nick by the back of his jacket and shoving him to the door. nick was lead through a hallway and pushed into a cell where a cute brunet was sitting against the wall.

nick sat a good distance away from the brunet, swinging his legs up onto the concrete bench, trying to separate his hands to scoot closer to the wall but then remembering he was wearing handcuffs. his gaze scanned over the small room, the guard, even the other person in there.

"what're you in for?" nick called across the cell to the boy. a cliche question— he heard it a lot at school when he was in detention. this wasn't anything like detention, though, this was real.

"nothing great," the boy muttered in reply. he spoke like he moved to america from england, with his words slightly american-accented, but it was still obviously british. "you?"

"jus' spray painted some dickhead's car and the side of a building. nothing great," nick shrugged, repeating the brunet's words.

"that's cool," the brunet swung his body around to face nick.

"stop talking back there," the guard yelled over his shoulder to them.

nick rolled his eyes. the boy raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping onto his face.

"whatever. but actually, what'd you do?" nick asked, voice raised slightly higher just to annoy the guard. his worries about what clay would do were gone for the moment, interested in the boy sat across from him.

"stole some shit," the boy grumbled. his lips curled into a cute pout.

"dumbass," nick laughed. the boy's pout faded into a small smile, eyes glancing at the concrete floor.

"what'd you even steal? and why?"

"this... fucking bracelet or something. my friend wanted it," the boy sighed, "and he wouldn't stop asking until i took it."

"understandable. hey, what's your name?" nick sat forward.

"george," the boy shrugged his shoulders lazily.

"i'm nick," nick replied, holding his hands out. george hesitantly took them, shaking their hands for barely a second before he let go. red painted his cheeks and he tried to hide it, failing miserably.

"did you get your phone call already?" nick asked, folding his hands in his lap again.

george nodded. "i've been in here for THREE FUCKING HOURS," he said, raising his voice at the end of his sentence, glaring in the direction of the guard.

"i just got mine," nick shrugged.

they spent the next few hours sitting next to each other, gradually shifting closer, until one of the other guards appeared.

"you, brown-haired one in the white jacket," the officer pointed to george, "your bail is here."

"damn," nick started.

"and you. black-haired kid. yours is also here," the officer finished. george held out his hand—or, tried to—to help nick up. nick took george's hand with a smile; it was surprisingly warm and smooth despite being pressed into concrete for over four hours now.

the first guard unlocked the door and pulled it open. "let's go."

nick held onto george's hand as they walked through the hall back to the front office. clay sat on one of the benches with a tall brunet man wearing a maroon beanie. nick let go of george's hand reluctantly, holding his wrists out so the officer could unlock the handcuffs.

clearing his throat, nick walked over to where clay sat with the brunet. clay's eyes left the man's to follow nick's movements.

"uh, hi," nick stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket.

"hi," clay replied. george appeared next to him, looking equally sheepish.

"we'll talk in the car. it was nice meeting you, wilbur," clay turned back to the tall brunet.

"you too," the man, wilbur, had an accent similar to george's.

"hey, before you go," george turned to nick, "want to do something illegal together at some point? i'll give you my number so we could figure out a time."

nick felt his face heating up. "sure, yeah." he turned to clay. "i'll meet you in the car."

after the blond left, obviously suppressing a smile, george asked for a pen and scribbled numbers onto nick's palm.

"bye," george whispered, waving as he was pulled out of the office.

"uh, george? the pen," nick called. george came running back in, face red, placing the pen on the counter. he rushed back out of the room with one last smile aimed at nick.

nick thanked the officer at the front desk before he trudged into the shitty weather outside. it had been raining; usually, nick liked the rain, but it was humid out as well, so his hair was sure to grow frizzy. he hated that.

sighing as he plopped down into the passenger's seat, nick gave clay a lopsided smile. "hi."

"you are so dead when we get back," clay muttered, starting the car. nick nodded, leaning his head on the cold window. a smile bloomed on his face and he reached up to cover it, pink spreading over his cheeks as well.

"oh, and no calling that boy you met until after we talk."

"what?! that's not fucking fair!"

"hey, you're the one who just sat in a holding cell for three hours. you can shut your ass up until we get home."