George Harrison Imagines

If You Invite Them In Part 2

Something inside of me is screaming that this is bad. What did I just do?

George steps gingerly over the threshold, closing the door softly behind him.

He seems perfectly normal...so why am I being so weird?! He's probably thinking the same damn thing! Calm down! Offer him something!

"So George, would you like a drink? Or maybe a snack?" I ask, ushering him further in.

"Both sound lovely, if you don't mind."  He replies, eyes glancing about the room.

I head to the kitchen with George hot on my tail.

He leans against the counter, looking more attractive than should be legal.

He catches me eyeing him up and shoots me a smirk and a wink.

I blush and turn away from him, busying myself with fetching a bottle of wine from the fridge.

George examines the bottle, "I'm a little more partial to red wine myself, but I like the whites on occasion. And this is certainly an occasion.."

I grab us two glasses and open the bottle. "I've only got white at the moment, I'm sorry..."

"It's no problem, _____..."

The way he says my name...

George takes his glass and sips it as he leans back against the counter. "Mmmm...this is pretty good..."

"I'm glad you think so, I've got just the snack to pair with it."

I gather what I need then grab a block of cheese.

The thunder rumbles on outside with no signs of letting up.

He may be here all night long....I hope he isn't some kind of pervert...could I take him on?

While my mind is being distracted with invasive thoughts, my knife slips in my grip and cuts my finger terribly.

I cry out and drop the knife, nearly jumping out of my skin when George grabs my bleeding finger to apply pressure.

He licks his lips as he looks at the blood seeping from his clamped fingers. "D-do you have a uh...kit? A first aid kit? Blood makes me...."

"I...I think I have some peroxide....and maybe some gauze? Fuck this hurts..."

George turns his head away from me, and I can feel him starting to tremble.

He must really hate the sight of blood....I better take care of this....

I try pulling my hand away from him gently but he holds it tightly.

"This is pretty bad....I should help you..."

I nod, then lead him up to the bathroom.

George finally releases my finger and I hold pressure over it. It's so deep I vaguely wonder if I'll need to get stitches.