♫ five times my muse swears it’s not a date, and the one time it maybe is.
it’s awkward, sitting in a dingy, dimly lit room while theguy you’ve been casually sleeping with demands access to the only survivingcopy of a book which contains a cipher george needs to translate another book. he could’ve been left atwhere they were staying while in town, instead of being dragged along in casethe book ‘couldn’t leave the building’ or something. george had tried toexplain that all he needed were several pictures, but even he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what pages without seeing it. he doesn’t complain. just brushes aspider from his jeans and rests back on the probably-rotten couch with a sigh.it doesn’t mean anything that the last time he was in a situation like this waswith scarlett. he’s just helping nick out. really.
he doesn’t know when he started referring to nick as afriend. certainly he hasn’t alwaysdone that, right? but wherever the line was drawn, he’s stepped over it withoutrealizing. it’s only when nick’s grip on his wrist to pull him towards —well, george wasn’t really paying attention, honestly. nick just decided heneeded george to come too. they’re going somewhere and george is following andhe’s suddenly very much aware of nick’s touch and wonders when he becamecomfortable enough to trust that wherever they’re going is important.comfortable enough to trust nick.
when he wakes up in the morning, he’s sore as shit, anddoesn’t plan on moving unless he absolutely has to. it’s the good kind of sore.the kind that says they really got into things, that suggests pleasure filledthe room – a light linger of it remains, and he should probably stumble his wayto a shower, but instead he catches the increasingly-familiar sight of nick onthe balcony of their little hotel room, and though his body resists, georgefumbles into some shorts and finds himself standing in the cool air of morning.leans against the railing both to be casual but also to support himself.doesn’t say anything, but when the hand holding a cigarette comes too close,george swipes it, pulls one drag off it, breathes out smoke through his nose,and hands it back before straightening, stretching, and heading inside again.if nick asked, george wouldn’t know what to say.
it’s a nice day and george has decided to take his researchto the park across the street. being cooped up, he’s learned, can be bad vibeswhen trying to decipher ancient lore from modern myth, and anyway, he’s learnedto appreciate the sun since he thought he’d never see it again after hell.hours must be passing, but he’s immersed in what he’s doing, never morecomfortable than when language is involved. the changing of the shadows overhim has him looking up, startled to see nick sitting beside him. doesn’t askwhen he got there, how long it’s been, or if he needs anything. only realizeshe’s been staring when nick looks at him, and george just shakes his head, smileplaying on his lips when he returns to the page he’s on, now all too focused onnick’s presence to make sense of the words he’s reading.
the problem with seeking out dark things is that dark thingswill seek you out in return, whether to stop you or tempt you or to test you.they’re not the only ones seeking out ancient magics, and while george is theone directing their steps by following clues, nick’s the powerful one. the onethat makes people stop in their tracks, the one that deals with any that wouldslow them down. george doesn’t expect protection on their journey, understandsthat injury only makes things take longer. is fine with letting nick deal withthings how nick deals with things, even if that means standing a few stepsbehind him as hostile magic tries to seek george out, remove him from theequation. he braces, readying himself for whatever may hit him, but never does.watches the opposing mage drop in pain from whatever spell nick has chosen.george has learned not to ask, and wonders when he realized he’d never beenworried about the spell hitting him to begin with.
it’s awkward, or maybe george is awkward because he doesn’tdate. has never really dated. notwith scarlett, and definitely not now with nick. george couldn’t even place aname on what they are, but they are something, and he’s learning to notice whatthat means. to act on what he thinks about it. and things feel far too normalfor them, sitting at a table in the fanciest restaurant george could find inthe town, which wasn’t that fancy butbetter than nothing. not take away, at least. and there are cloth napkins, oneof which he wrings between his hands under the table. he’s had two glasses ofwine, which is two more than he’d usually go for, and wants to tell himselfthis is a celebration. they’re celebrating finding that artifact they’d spentmonths hunting down. celebrating because they’re not really people that date,and this is not the sort of thing they do, but he can’t help thinking that whenhe suggested it, nick came.
