"My ears are fine. You're just quiet and sneaking about. Like one of those cats with the shoved in faces that always look cross," George answered absently. "Did you take an order for-"
He was cut off as Roger waded into the box-moat around him, and pulled him up. And snogged him. Actually snogged him. Not like a peck on the cheek or giving him a hard time sort of snogging. Which George would have expected from any kiss from Davies.
George was, when push came to shove, all talk about 80% of the time about flirting, no matter WHO he was flirting with. And the rare times he did do something about it, it was usually either a disaster, or it was with someone he didn't actually see again, after some night with a few too many at a pub.
He did, in fact, find Roger very attractive. He'd just never really admitted it because. . . well because. Number one, nothing would come of it, and number two the last thing Davies needed was another boost to his bloody ego. (Not that George had any room to talk.)
So the sudden kiss was, despite the teasing, not even a little expected. George made a startled sound, eyes widening, and he did try to pull away automatically. But Roger held on, and after a second, George started to kiss back.
He'd claim surprise, or something later. But he wasn't made of STONE.