And Maybe That's Alright

Domestic

It was relatively quiet now at Clay and George's.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise, really, since it was only them in the house once more. Nick and Vincent had gone home, the same with Zak and Darryl, and Geo and Ophelia were staying with Keres - they weren't all that certain where Jethro was staying but it wouldn't come as a surprise if they discovered that he'd managed to find a way to spend the nights with Clark alongside the days.

There was work to be doing, as there always was, while all were recovering and preparing for the court case. Sifting through what they'd found in Damien's office was top priority at the moment but that task had been divvied up between the rest of the group - it had been insisted upon that Clay, George, Clark and Jethro deserved a break, much to their guilt.

But, despite their guilt, they took the opportunity with open arms. Clark less so - he was more forced by circumstance - but he still agreed anyways.

It was rather nice, actually. George found that he didn't really mind being idle and it didn't seem that Clay did either.

He'd streamed for a bit to pass the time, Clay making his presence known in the back every now and again and even sitting in for a little while as George practiced speed running. They had to answer a few questions, some uncomfortable donations, but overall it seemed the consensus was to leave George, Clay and everyone else to come out about what happened in their own time.

Once they'd exhausted the idea of streaming, George signed off but remained at Clay's desk with the man in question at his side. Clay had started writing towards the end of the stream - editing a new song most likely - and George was more than happy to stay quiet at his side, scrolling casually through twitter.

It was moments like this that George felt he'd never take for granted; being able to simply sit in one another's presence, Clay's free hand making its way to link absently with George's as he hummed a line over in his head before dipping to adjust it.

It was rather funny, really, when George scrolled past a head cannon that said that, because Clay and George had opposing dominant hands, they could hold on to one another without disrupting their own work. It was all rather cheesy, all rather funny and all very gay but George figured that's exactly what the two of them were.

Midday rolled around slowly, though neither minded the days passing so sluggish, and George switched off his phone and stood with a stretch, fully intending to go make something to eat for the two of them.

He was surprised, however, when Clay kept their fingers tangled.

He obviously held no intent of standing and joining George in the kitchen; he was still hunched over his notebook with his eyebrows scrunched. George would even hazard a guess that Clay hadn't realised he'd stood, the concentration on the blond's face much too strong and certain.

"I need to go make food, Clay." George stated with a soft, amused lilt to his voice. That was wiped, however, when George, for once, noticed the flash of disappointment in Clay's face.

Clay righted himself quickly and turned to look up at George with a small smile but it was too late, George had already seen.

Clay had expected George teasing him; had expected George laughing, calling him clingy, maybe even getting a "you're so stupid" said through smiling lips and then having George drop his hand and wander off to the kitchen.