AN: I wrote this at least 3 years ago so it's not that good. Also so far it's the smuttiest thing I've written, just a warning!
Stanley was disgusted with himself. George had dropped by to bother him at work, and ever since that devil (quite literally) had come in, Stanley hadn't been able to stop staring at him.
"Wonderful", he thought, "now he's taking off those stupid sunglasses of his...no one needs to see your stupid blue eyes, George..." he lost his train of thought when the eyes directed themselves at him for a moment, accompanied by a quickly flashed smirk, before George turned to the menu.
"Damn it!" Stanley thought. He had forgotten to look away. And George had most certainly noticed. Embarrassed, he returned to his grill work, vaguely wishing Margaret had shown up at work today. He figured she could have distracted him from George.
George, on the other hand, was not disgusted in the least. He had been eyeing Stanley the entire time, hiding behind his sunglasses and pretending to read the menu, and evidently being much less obvious than the fry cook. He had noticed all of Stanley's stares. Messing with his head was great fun. Even better was the assurance of Stanley's little crush on him. He could be certain of having him soon.
Soon Stanley's shift ended, and George implemented his plan.
"Wait up, Stanley!" George started after him as he walked out of the restaurant.
"Oh, hi George,"
"Want to join me for dinner later? At my place? Only all the sins'll be there, and I need some sane company."
"And what if I don't want to go?"
"I know you do. I'll see you at 6."
Stanley sighed in frustration at George's ability to constantly get into his head. He did want to go, of course he did, but he felt that it would be an extremely awkward evening.
And quite the awkward evening it turned out to be. Stanley kept mostly quiet throughout the whole meal for fear of saying something embarrassing. The sins' bickering and ridiculous antics grew more and more ridiculous, not to mention their teasing George and Stanley about each other.
By the end of the ordeal, Stanley had drank quite a bit of wine in attempts to distract himself. Everyone had either stormed off at some inappropriate time or left as soon as they finished eating. Except for gluttony, who was finishing off her seventh helping, and George and Stanley, who were having a conversation.
"Oh, Stanley, you collect moths, right? I came across a very interesting moth last week. It's in my room, would you like to come have a look?" Was that a mischievous grin playing across his face? A peculiar thought began to work its way into Stanley's buzzing head. He ignored it, and accepted George's offer.
Stanley didn't say much while George showed him the moth, (specifically the large, green, actias luna) and responded little to his conversational efforts while he set it down on the bedside table. It was all too distracting--too many words with double meanings and suggestive inflections and little glances that made him almost feel faint.
"What's the matter, Stanley? Don't you like me anymore?"
"Well-Sure, I do."
"Stanley," George inquired, sitting next to the man on his bed, "how would you like me if I were to, say, kiss you? Or something along those lines..." his eyes flicked downwards.
"George! Are you drunk?"
"Barely,"
"Are you-are you flirting with me?" Stanley tried to look indignant to hide the blush spreading across his face. He couldn't make eye contact with George for more than a second.
The taller man smiled wryly and leaned in closer.
