48th Street Diner, East End
A beloved breakfast spot for every East sender. And before you ask, yes breakfast is served 24/7
A Tale of East and West
Warnings: 18+ bc of AU, mentions of mafia violence
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“You never told me y’know.”
“Told you what?” George frowns, eyebrows knit as he watches you pile way too much whipped cream on your waffles.
“How your meeting went.”
George pauses before swallowing, taking extra care to clean his teeth while you wait expectantly. “My sister’s had some boy troubles, we just needed to make sure everything’s alright.”
“Oh.”
George’s eyes return to his plate, gaze locked on his eggs while he hopes you accept that explanation. He can see your hands haven’t moved though, and your silence builds a foreboding tension in the air. He makes sure his mouth is full before glancing up at your face, stifling his surprise at the concern etched into your features. “Is…is she..?”
“No,” George shakes his head while furiously chewing faster, “She’s fine.”
“Oh. It’s just you took so long to come back over so—“
“The kid’s a royal prick for sure, but it’s not like he’s done anything we’d kill him for.” He smiles as ease returns to your shoulders, ignoring the guilt stirring in his gut at how easily you accept his blatant lie as a joke. He reaches across the table for your hand, turning it so he can run soothing circles atop your palm. “It’s nothing. My mum wanted us to stay for dinner, and then too many rounds of board games after. That’s all.”
You smile, accepting his story with a nod before returning to your food. Your hand fiddles with his for the rest of your meal, the conversation floating between the new plant you want for your apartment and when the two of you can take another private cooking class together.
George’s fingers lock between yours once you stand to leave, his thumb caressing your skin as he leads you to the door. You study his back on the way, his tall frame softly moulded in his knitted sweater, tousled hair darker in the dirty window’s beam. It’s a sight that would usually make you smile, but the frown you wear can’t be helped.
It’s just something…off. Not quite right. Not since earlier last night, when you’d taken your trash down and overheard murmurs of Weasley girl and West End kid, tied together by a lower watch his back. That sounded like a lot more than nothing, and your waffles tasted bitter with the implication that George was lying to you. Still, George was the sweetest boyfriend you could ever have, and you know he treasures his sister more than his own life. If he says it’s fine then it’s fine, and if not it’s still his family business and he has every right to keep that private, especially if Ginny asked him to. You’re sure there’s something more, and you could always cross the river to visit your godmother, take a long winded stroll and see if you can overhear anything more…
No. No, you can’t do that, pry into Ginny’s business like you’re entitled to it. If George won’t tell you the truth then it must be for good reason. For the right reason. You quickly force a smile when George stops, standing aside to hold the door open for you my. “After you, Fairy.” He winks, grinning as you press a sweet kiss to his cheek before proudly following after you.
