Last Christmas- DNF

~7~

21st December 1921

George had expected to wake up to the birds, their calming songs filling his ear and him gently being woken up. What he wasn't prepared for, however, was for his curtains to be drawn back to reveal the light, Clay stood in front of them gesturing to the light outside.

"George", he huffed, "It's midday and as much as I'd love to let you sleep, we have plans", when George simply didn't move in his mildly uncomfortable bed, an exasperated sigh left the blondes lips.

"Please at least come into the kitchen for late brunch with me, I never cook and as much as I hate to admit it, I made us a full English", George watched with half open eyes full of sleepy dust as Clay tried to explain himself, explanations that honestly made no sense to the brunette whatsoever, "I know women are supposed to be the ones who cook and men should go to work, but I wanted to surprise you. After all, it was you who said you wanted a perfect Christmas experience."

George allowed himself to blink, pushing his body into an upright position so that he was able to see the mess Clay had become whilst trying to explain himself. He wasn't sure as to why the blonde felt the need to explain his obvious hobby for cooking too him when there was absolutely nothing wrong with it.

"Clay", a hand made its way up to rub his eyes, "It's okay if you like to cook, there's nothing wrong with that. In the future, some of the greatest chefs are men, maybe you could be one of them one day", he added a small wink at the end of his sentence to entice a laugh out of the blonde.

"Really", his jaw had dropped, mouth wide open in shock, though his shock didn't last long until he returned to the self assured man George had met yesterday, "Well in that case I best start practicing more often, I s'pose every other day shan't be enough if I want to become the greatest chef. And you ought to come try the meal I've made you."

Letting out a mix between a grumble and a giggle, George lifted himself up on his arms and pushed the bedsheets down so that his legs were exposed. Even though he'd found the tartan odd yesterday, he was grateful for it this morning, the lack of heating in the house evident.

Clay had since left the room, saying he was going to set up the kitchen for breakfast, semi skipping out, very against the manly stereotypes he was talking about earlier. Though George decided not to question it, feeling in a rather good mood this morning and not in the mindset to question someone's morals.

Swinging his legs over the bed, he felt the real rush of cold, chill from the outside biting at his bare feet as reality set in that he truly was in the past. Decent heating was yet to exist, instead there was one pathetic looking radiator in the corner that had definitely seen better days. It was rusted and cracked, making an occasional hissing sound whenever George's feet hit the floor as he walked towards the door.

He pushed down on the handle, shivering slightly as he felt the rest of the house, it being even colder than his room before. But his senses were almost immediately overridden by the scent of food; bacon, sausage, egg and toast, a familiar scent. It was one he could relate back to his own home, a scent he'd smelt many times before in the time he'd spent living alone.

His feet padded quickly along the floorboards, arms wrapped around his body as an attempt to keep himself warm, though goosebumps were still present all along his arms, hairs standing on end.

Turning the corner to the kitchen, he was met by Clay, sitting at the table with a newspaper, one he assumed to have been delivered this morning before he was awake. The blonde looked up and gave a small wave, folding the newspaper and placing it down beside him.

"Oh gosh George I really must show you how to dress warmer, you're simply going to freeze dressed like that", he gestured to what the brunette was wearing, "I know the clothes in that wardrobe aren't very appealing, but I'm a rather good stylist I'll have you know. Anyway, tuck in, it'll warm you up."

George glanced down at his clothes, noticing that the tartan wasn't as thick as he'd thought it was before picking up his knife and fork.

As soon as he brought the fork to his lips, the flavours on his tastebuds were utterly divine, all sense of worry and cold fading away into background noise as his mind complimented the cooking. Clay most definitely had a talent for cooking, it was a surprise he hadn't seen the mans name pop up in any old cooking shows or books, yet he supposed it was simply because he hadn't had an impact on the past yet.

"Clay this is delicious", he spoke with his mouth full, not caring for manners, "Oh my god, where did you learn to cook like this."

"My mum", the blonde rubbed the back of his neck lightly, "She taught me everything I know. She's one of those mums who doesn't care for stereotypes, hence why she taught me to cook and to embroider whilst also allowing my dad to teach me more 'manly' things such as mending a car", he paused in his sentence, "I'm quite the handyman y'know."

"You can embroider?", George asked curiously, his knowledge about the 1920s telling him that was very out of the ordinary.

"Embroidered that cushion over there", he pointed proudly towards a singular cushion on one of the sofas in the living room, it having a pretty home stitched flower pattern on it.

"It's pretty", George commented, choosing to ignore the way he watched Clays cheeks tint pink ever so slightly, knowing that would never be a topic to bring up. Instead, he bit his lip and held in a giggle, finishing up his food before placing his knife and fork down.

A few moments after George had finished his food, so did Clay, the blonde placing down his knife and fork into a neat position and pushing the plate away until it was in the centre of the table.

"Y'know what you said last night", Clays voice was cautious yet excited, a mixture that confused the brunette yet he nodded anyway, "I've decided upon what we're going to do every single day up until Christmas."

"What we are going to do?", George let his voice waved as he spoke, confusion evident in the furrow of his eyebrows and the point he did between him and the blonde.

"You told me you've never truly experienced Christmas, and if I'm being honest, neither have I. I've never had anyone to properly celebrate it with other than my family and I know that I most certainly would enjoy spending it with someone who isn't related to me", the blonde paused, "So that's why we're going to spend it together, I've got everyday planned out perfectly. Believe me when I say it's going to be the best experience you've ever had."

George was in shock, eyebrows risen and jaw slack, this was a total stranger suggesting he spend Christmas doing activities with him, yet George found himself saying yes before he could process it any further. It was something about this man, the way he reminded him of a puppy seeing the world for the first time, always excitable and always ready to try something new. Watching Clay get excited was something he already found joy in, despite only knowing the man for 32 hours.

"Oh goody", Clay clapped his hands together, "First things first I need to gather some money together, then, we shall let the Christmas festivities begin.", the blonde quickly stood up from the table, beginning to clear up the plates.

"Tonight?", George queried, still concerned about the clothing situation.

"Tonight", the blonde confirmed, "I hope to see you waiting by the door with your hat, scarf, coat and gloves on at 6pm", he turned to the sink with a wink, leaving George utterly dumbfounded.

This man was nothing like those he'd read about in history textbooks when he was younger, he was completely different. Though maybe in a way that enticed him, drew him in until he found himself excited to wait by the door at 6pm, cheeks tinting pink at the thought.

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