Title: Call It A Ritual
Author: sdk
Fandom: Being Human
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Mitchell/George
Rating: PG
Length/Word Count: Ficlet, 336 words
Summary: Mitchell finds George where he knows George will be, hovering in front of the sink, emptying the tea cups one at a time.
Notes: Written for the lovely omarandjohnny's birthday today! I hope it pleases. :) Special thanks to lilithilien for looking this over and cheerleading me. :) Title taken from a Wolf Parade song.
Disclaimer: The following is based on fictional characters that I don't own doing fictional things in a fictional world that I didn't create. No copyright infringement intended, no money's being made.


Call It A Ritual

The teacups are full again, displayed around the kitchen, even some encroaching into the sitting room, huddled on end tables and across the top of the telly. Annie doesn't do this too often any more—prepare tea until there's no tea left to prepare or cups left to fill (whichever comes first) but occasionally she falls back into the comfort of her old habit, especially when tensions are high in the flat.

Mitchell finds George where he knows George will be, hovering in front of the sink, emptying the tea cups one at a time. George picks up the next closest cup, a bright orange one with a loud daisy painted around the side.

"It wouldn't be nearly so bad if we had similar cups. A set of white ones. Matching. Maybe with a small flower design in blue." George's voice shakes ever so slightly as he tips the tea into the sink. Mitchell knows George is not talking to himself. It doesn't matter how quiet Mitchell is; this time of the month, George can always sense him.

"Mmm."

Mitchell's non-committal noise is all George needs to continue.

"Or just white—plain white is fine, but not this chaos."

There's a clatter as the cup is dropped. George grips the counter, his fingers clinging against the lip as if it were the only thing holding him back from falling into the sink himself. There are several things that Mitchell could say to calm George normally, but none of them will work two days from a full moon.

Mitchell isn't so sure he wants George calm anyway.

Mitchell closes his eyes and George's scent draws him closer. He doesn't realise how close until he feels George's jumper scratch his chest. George stills, but his blood is racing, singing—so wild and free and feral. Mitchell can always feel the animal inside, but this close to the change, it's intoxicating.

"Mitchell-"

"Shhh…" Mitchell dips down and slides his nose against George's neck. "Let's exercise our demons another way."




-Fin-







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