And Maybe That's Alright

Acclimate

The blissful, euphoric air that had surrounded Clay and George only remained, sitting comfortably on their shoulders as they made and ate dinner before following them both through until long after they'd washed, changed and settled into bed.

It was still only early evening, sure, and neither would likely be falling asleep any time soon but they found they didn't really mind. It was nice to simply be beside each other, to gradually let the reality of the situations permanency seep in through their skin.

"Did you not bring any clothes with you?" Clay half teased upon taking in the view of George sprawled comfortably on their bed, clad in a pair of Clay's gray sweatpants and one of Clay's white shirts. George looked up from his phone with a grin.

"Yeah." He stated nonchalantly, going back to scrolling through twitter and Clay felt his brain stop, footsteps stuttering to a stop from where he had been walking towards the bed.

"Wait really?" He asked, cheeks and ears tinted a soft pink.

"No, you pervert!" George laughed, looking up from his phone again to take in his boyfriends flustered state.

"I didn't mean it like- oh my God." Clay sighed to the sound of George's lightly mocking laugh. He could feel the heat on his face distinctly and didn't doubt for a moment that George had noticed. "You're the one that thinks it's hot when I swear, you freak." He countered defensively and watched as George flushed, laughing nervously.

"No I don't." He huffed in denial, looking anywhere but at Clay. Clay smirked, resuming walking towards the bed.

"You so do! I bet you find my hands hot too." He pressed, flexing his fingers and cracking his knuckles.

"Stop!" George covered his face with his hands before deeming them inadequate and grabbing a pillow instead, holding it over his head. "I don't." He clarified, muffled.

Clay laughed, a wheezing, loud noise that shook his shoulders, and George pressed the pillow onto his own face more firmly, fully intending to suffocate himself.

Never tweet with the mentality that your idol likely won't see it because you may just end up dating them and they'll hold it over you forever, George advises.

Clay crawled his way onto the bed, swinging a leg over George's middle and sitting on his stomach, splaying both of his hands on George's chest. He waited patiently for George to remove the pillow, softly drumming his fingertips against George's sternum.

George was stubborn, however, and left the pillow in place as he dropped his arms to his sides, hands pressing lightly to Clay's legs. "Go away." A muffled George said. Clay just laughed. "You're crushing me."

"Are you saying I'm fat?" He asked teasingly, pouting. George reached blindly to place his hands on Clay's thighs.

"Yes." He answered without a moments hesitance and Clay found himself laughing once more - he did that a lot around George. He decided he'd waited long enough and reached forward to pull the pillow off of George's face. George let him, cheeks having calmed from their blaring red shade. "Hello."

"Hi there." Clay replied, smile small and soft and warm. He trailed his hands from George's chest up to his hair, initially intending to fix it before getting transfixed himself and simply fiddling with it himself. George let his eyes slip closed, enjoying the scrape of Clay's nails on his scalp.