Dressed to Kill // DNF

2.1

Clay sat at the kitchen table with his mother, on his phone. Drista and their father had already gone to their rooms, having finished dinner.

His mother cleared her throat, making Clay look up from his phone. "What?"

She smiled slightly. "So...George?"

Staring at her, Clay blinked. "...What about him?"

Leaning back in her chair, Clay's mother crossed her arms. "You seem rather fond of the boy. Very fond."

The blonde boy frowned at her. "Mom."

She put her hands up. "If you don't like him like that, you don't have to. Just saying, I'm basically a matchmaker, and you two compliment each other nicely."

"Mom!" Clay exclaimed. "Oh my god, you're so embarrassing."

His mother laughed at this reaction, putting her hands up. "Well when you-"

"I need you to not speak anymore," Clay mumbled, hiding his face in his hands in embarrassment.

Continuing to chuckle slightly, Laura went back to scrolling on her phone. Planning to never speak to his mother ever again, Clay did the same.

They sat in comfortable silence for quite a while. Neither of them felt the need to move away from the table, just sitting in each other's company for a bit.

Eventually Clay heard the distinct sound of a door shutting from upstairs, and looked up to see George tentatively walking down the stairs. He had clothes clutched to his chest, squeezing them so hard his knuckles appeared white.

"Hey, George," Laura smiled sweetly.

The boy in question looked uncertain and hesitant, which was definitely a new look on him. "Um...Hi. I wasn't really sure where to put my clothes..." he trailed off, looking down at the clothing articles in his hands.

She stood up, walking over to him quickly. "Oh, I'm sorry, I can take those for you. I'll have them washed and you'll have them back by morning," she promised.

Standing at the base of the stairs, George hesitated still. Eventually he handed over his clothes to her, and she sent him another comforting smile. The lack of distraction of what George was holding led Clay to study what he was actually wearing.

His hair was still slightly damp, and every so often a droplet would fall from the brown locks down onto the green sweater he was wearing. Clay's green sweater, which he would admit looked really good on George.

The brunette was also wearing Clay's sweatpants, which were cinched tightly around his waist since they were obviously too big. The sleeves of the sweater passed George's wrist, and the neckline hung low on his collarbone. Clay hadn't, until now, realized how small George was compared to him.

Now, 'cute' wasn't a word Clay used often, but it was the first thing that sprung to mind.

Clay was startled by his own thoughts, quickly shaking his head to clear them. When the hell did he start thinking like that? That was the first and last time that happened.

His mom, looking at him, raised an eyebrow at Clay. Before he could frown at her, she turned and headed towards the laundry room with George's clothes.

Finally coming to his senses, Clay spoke to George. "Those uh...fit you well," he said with a slight chuckle.

Looking down at the clothes, George glared at him. "It's not my fault you're literally Bigfoot," he muttered softly under his breath.

Pretending to be offended, Clay put a hand on his chest. "Bigfoot? How rude."