"Fucking- why are you so heavy? Move!" George whisper-shouted, shoving at Clay's back.

"To where, George? The corner of the fucking room? He's going to see me anyways!" Clay whisper-shouted in return but let George continue shoving him anyways.

"To the cupboard- closet- whatever! Just get in, idiot!" With one especially hard shove, Clay got the hint and stuffed himself into the closet. He barely had a moments time to breathe before George slammed the door shut on him and rushed from the room to answer the pounding at his front door.

George huffed, not clocking his tousled appearance before he swung the door open. That would be the beginning of his slow, excruciatingly painful demise.

"What do you want, Nick?"

"I can't come visit my best bud?" Nick asked innocently, taking in George's mussed hair and rumpled shirt with a raised brow. He let it slide, packing the knowledge away for later, and pushed past George into the house.

"No."

"You wound me, babe." Nick brushed off, heading straight to George's kitchen and beginning throwing open cupboards to find something worth eating.

"What are you actually here for?" George asked after watching Nick take a box of cereal, situate himself up on the counter, open his phone and begin eating the dry cereal by the handful.

"You've been avoiding me, dude. Wanted to make sure you were still alive." Oh, the irony.

"I'm not avoiding you." Yes I am.

"Yes you are!"

"I'm not!" I am.

"Oh, okay, so you're just leaving me on seen, not picking up my calls and haven't streamed or uploaded alone, let alone with me, in ages, right." Nick rolled his eyes, tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Fine!" George took one of Nick's hand from his phone, pressing Nick's fingers to his pulse. "There, I'm alive and not avoiding you, you can go now."

"You're so mean, George." Nick pouted, slipping from the counter. For a moment, George thought he was in the clear. Then, Nick dropped himself onto the couch and George almost audibly groaned.

"What now?" George asked instead.

"I wanna hang out with you!" Nick said innocently but George saw straight through that faux innocence.

"Nick, you haven't got off your phone since you got here." George pointed out, crossing his arms. Nick looked up from his phone, locking eyes. The two remained in place, staring, waiting for the other to back down.

Finally, Nick huffed and lifted his phone into George's eye-line, switching it off and raising his eyebrows in one. He then dropped it to the couch between them. "Happy?"

"Not as happy as I'd be if you left."

"You love me." Nick waved off, searching around for George's remote.

"No I don't." George countered, picking the remote up from where it had slid down the side of the couch cushion and handing it to Nick.

"Yes you do. What film do you wanna watch?" George sighed, having forgotten - in all the scuffle and argument - why he was so adamant on having Nick leave so fast in the first place.

"I don't care." George shrugged, standing to go make them some popcorn. "Pick whatever." Nick hummed, doing just that.

"I'm gonna go get blankets." He then announced, already disappeared off down the corridor. George didn't bother answering until

Oh fuck.

Nick was going to go get blankets.

Blankets that were in the closet.

Blankets that were in the closet with Clay.

Nick was going to go get blankets from the closet with Clay in.

Oh fuck.

"Nick, wait!" GEORGE tried, dashing after Nick in the hopes of stopping him.

"Uh, George?" Too late. "Why is there a man in your closet?" Wonderful.

Clay waved a sheepish hand from awkwardly stuffed into George's closet, Nick looking between them suspiciously.

"Nick, this is..." Think, George, think! "my new roommate, Clay! Clay, say hi to my friend Nick." He rushed out, offering a hand to yank Clay from the closet.

"Hi Nick." Clay greeted, brushing himself down and sorting his hair before reaching his hand out for Nick to shake.

"Hi." Nick greeted slowly, looking from Clay's hand up to his flushed face and nervous smile. He knew exactly what was going on here. With a shit-eating grin, he shook Clay's hand. "So, what were you doing in George's closet?"

"Uh," Clay glanced to George with a panicked expression that simply screamed 'help me'. George raised his brows sternly and tilted his head minutely to gesture back at Nick. "I was looking for my hoodie and got trapped."

George almost face-palmed, Nick's knowing smile only spreading. "Right. No luck then?" Nick asked, glancing pointedly at Clay's thin white shirt.

"Uh, no. I was just going to wait for George to let me out and ask him. George?" All attention shifted to George and he had to fight the flush climbing his neck, pointedly looking into Clay's eyes but that didn't help an awful lot.

"It's probably in the wash, just use one of my old ones." George pushed past the two to the closet, eager to get this situation over with. He threw various blankets over his shoulder at Nick before pulling out a worn, warm yellow hoodie with a silly smiley across the front. "That should be big enough. You can keep it, I never liked that shade of yellow."

"George... this is green." Clay pointed out slowly, looking at the thick fabric in his hands.

"Same thing." George brushed off, walking down the hallway to the kitchen swiftly, using the excuse of having to retrieve their popcorn.

"So," Nick began and Clay turned to him, gathering the hoodie in his hands with intent to pull it on. "How long have you two been together?" Clay fumbled, arms halfway into the sleeves, and flushed a pretty pink.

"What?"

"I'm not stupid." Nick laughed, patting Clay's shoulder. "George disappears, suddenly doesn't want me coming over anymore, and when I come to visit he answers the door all disheveled and suddenly has a roommate who is the definition of his type? Seems Gogy got himself a boyfriend and didn't want to tell me."

"I- we're not together." Clay finally choked out, pulling the hoodie on over his head, and then "I'm his type?"

Nick couldn't help his laugh. "Tall, tan and handsome with a nice smile? Definitely. Do you like minecraft by any chance?" Clay nodded sheepishly.

"George won't play with me any more because I'm better than him." Once again, Nick found himself laughing.

"Everyone is." He assured before beginning the walk to the sitting room. "Well, if you and George aren't already together then you will be soon." With that, Nick threw himself over the back of the couch and settled against one of the arms, claiming a fluffy orange blanket and cocooning himself in it. Clay watched him, puzzled, but couldn't help the small smile that etched its way onto his lips.

"If you're going to join us then sit down. You look dumb standing there smiling to yourself." George chided as he wandered in with two bowls of popcorn. Clay did as told, pointedly ignoring Nick's teasing chuckle, and settled against the other arm of the couch.

George dropped himself between the two, shoving a bowl into Nick's lap. "I didn't know you'd be watching too so you'll have to share." He told Clay but kept his eyes stubbornly on the screen. Clay just nodded stupidly.

Nick, ever the meddling genius, began to steal and pile blankets on and around himself until there was only one left. A thin but adequately soft one that he threw at George. "Oops, looks like you'll have to share."

George rolled his eyes. What Nick didn't know was that, while that blanket was the thinnest, it was also the largest. He easily spread it over he and Clay's laps, placing the bowl of popcorn between them. Nick huffed and set the film to play.

What film Nick had picked didn't really matter when all George could think about was the fact that Clay was beside him. Not in the way that you may think, however. George wasn't lost to love-filled fantasies for the man at his side. No, he couldn't brush the fact that, at the end of the day, Clay was on the run.

And Nick wasn't exactly the best at keeping secrets.

Clay, however, was distracted for the very reason you may assume.

It wasn't his fault that he had always been a little on the soft-hearted side. And it certainly wasn't his fault that he'd found that George was everything he could ever wish for. He wasn't looking to fall in love when he squeezed himself through the window of the first house he'd spotted when he couldn't run more than four long strides before he'd crumple to the ground again.

When he'd woken up, swaddled in possibly the most comfortable confines ever, in George's house, he was certain that he was done for. The man that had brandished an umbrella as though it was the most dangerous weapon he could have been holding would call the police and turn him in immediately.

But then he didn't.

Despite his exterior, George was possibly the kindest, most open-hearted person there ever was. He'd never said that Clay could stay but it was wordless in the way that George went out of his way to keep Clay safe; slowly but surely handed off piles of old clothes because 'you can't just wear the same thing all the time'; began buying more food to account for Clay and even slowly began trusting Clay more and more until he was more than happy to allow him free reign whilst he was out.

George wasn't verbal with his kindness, wasn't verbal with his care, but it was clear in his actions and Clay rather adored that about him.

It had been hard at first, to trust that George wouldn't turn him in. Neither man knew the other at all so George's non-verbal way of communicating had been hard to deal with. They shuffled around each other in an awkward little dance, every step working to move them closer until the very moment they were at now: standing flush, back to back.

"Shuffle up, George, stop hogging all the space." Nick whined, shoving at George with his feet until George was pressed warmly down Clay's side.

And it seemed all they needed to make that final turn face to face was an awfully meddlesome friend.

Because, when Clay shifted his arm to drape loosely around George, he could blame it on making their forced closeness more comfortable. And when George rested lightly into Clay's side, he could blame it on Nick's toes still digging into his hip.

But, when the movie was over and Nick had long since left, neither had an upstanding excuse for why they kept curled against each other. And, as George stacked up empty bowls and walked them into the kitchen, neither had an upstanding excuse for why Clay trailed after him. And, when George had finished cleaning up, neither had an upstanding excuse for why they simply stood, a step away from one another, and stared.

"I'm in love with you, George."

It was the barest of whispers that lingered in the air between them. Standing on the very spot they'd met, beneath the window in George's kitchen, not far from George's back door.

"And I know that I can't ask you to love me back because you don't know me. Not all of me."

And George found himself trying to decide whether he wanted to have heard the words or not. It would be easy for him to claim that Clay was simply speaking too lowly for him to understand.

"But in these last few months that you've protected me, I've fallen in love with you."

But that would be all too cruel. To have Clay bare his heart so rawly under any circumstances and to simply pretend he hadn't heard because he was too afraid.

"And I thought you deserved that truth, at least."

But he wasn't afraid of what you might think. He wasn't afraid of what Clay may have done to lead him to George. He was afraid of what he may do to drive Clay away.

Clay reached an open hand into the space between them.

George took it.

Clay placed a tentative hand on George's cheek.

George pressed into it.

Clay leant, ever slowly, into the seemingly endless gap between them.

George kissed him.

And, as Clay loved George, George loved Clay. All other issues they'd work through together when they reached them.

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2.1k words

I don't know whether I like this or not but :]

Requests are open!!

Yours, Dandy