An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
When Mitchell woke up on George’s lumpy sofa, it was to find George frantically trying to- hold on, was he seriously trying to tape the curtains to the wall? Maybe he was mental after all.
“Uh…?” Mitchell sat up, the scratchy blanket pooling around his hips. “What’cha doing?”
“Don’t move!” George yelped. “There’s still so much light getting in! I can’t believe I didn’t think of this, it’s almost mid-day and these curtains are next to useless anyway, and-”
Oh, bless him. A grown man had no right to be so endearing.
“-maybe I could find some cardboard and-”
Mitchell ought to put the poor bastard out of his misery.
“-since when is it sunny in England, am I right?” George continued to rant, still trying to tape the curtains to the walls. He was only partially succeeding; the shitty tape just wasn’t up for the task. “It’s October! It shouldn’t be sunny!”
“It won’t kill me,” Mitchell said.
“Of course it will!”
It took every ounce of self control not to cackle.
*
The morning after Mitchell and George meet. It's a relief to have a friend again.