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George was awoken by someone placing light kisses on the back of his neck. It was certainly a nice feeling- his husband had started doing it when George commented on how much he liked them and never stopped. The kisses were as soft as a feather, going from the top of his neck down to his shoulders. He sighed contently.
The arm around his waist tightened, bringing the brunette closer. He could basically feel the smile on his husband’s face (George was smiling too, but that isn't relevant.) Slowly he turned around, meeting those beautiful emerald green eyes he loved so much (even if the only way to see their actual color was using his glasses, they were still beautiful.)
“Morning my love.” The younger man’s voice was deep and raspy- George didn't mind though, he actually quite liked his husband’s morning voice. “Slept well?” He asked as he moved the hand from Geroge’s waist to push a strand of hair behind the brunette’s ear.
“Mhm,” George mumbled, leaning into the touch. His husband led out a sleepy laugh and caressed his cheek- these were the best moments of the day, just laying in bed with the man he loved doing nothing. The blonde leaned forward, kissing him- It was all so soft, so gentle, and he enjoyed every second of it.
They parted and stayed there, inches away from each other, looking into the other’s eyes. George gave him a quick peck before returning to the same position, giggling for some unknown reason (whenever he was around the younger man he just felt all giddy inside, even after so many years of being together.) His husband grinned and kissed him again and then George did the same, leaving one on both his forehead and cheek for good measure.
“Oh, it's on.” He said, his voice edging in between a kind of dangerous and playful that George loved- If there was something that the brunette knew about his husband was the fact that the man was very competitive regardless of what they were doing. And this time the blonde’s words seemed like a declaration of war.
“What-” are you talking about, dear? He finished the sentence in his head, yet he wasn't able to articulate it as the blonde was already attacking his neck. At first, it was the same light kisses he was giving before, aimed at different parts of George’s neck, causing the Brit to giggle, but it soon turned into nibbling at the many purple marks on it. “Clay, stop, they’re next door.” He whined, trying to push the taller man away (even if he didn't actually put any effort into it.)
“But that didn't stop us last night, now did it?” He broke away from George’s neck to ask. The brunette became flustered at the response, sputtering the beginning of several sentences before giving up and closing his mouth. “You know that if they heard us it’s your fault,” He teased, “Right, Georgie?” George whimpered as his husband licked one of the hickeys on his neck, praying that the people next door were asleep- God knew what would happen if they heard them.
“S-Shut up.” He said. “And get off of me! You're going to make them worse.” Clay detached himself from the Brit’s neck for a second, apparently considering what his husband said for a moment, before shrugging.
“Nah.” The blonde grabbed his partner’s wrists and pinned them next to his head, moving so that he would be looming over the other man. “I like how they look on you, that way everyone knows who you belong to-”
“Papa, what are you doing?” A voice came from their bedroom door. Clay froze, a look of panic on his face as if he had been caught committing a crime. The man turned his head to the right so he could stare at the owner of the voice and George did the same.
There stood their daughter, Allyson. She had opened the door slightly, just enough that it wouldn't make any noise- reason why neither he nor Clay knew she was there. The girl rubbed her eye with the right hand, the left one holding onto her favorite toy (a handmade dolphin plushie that Clay’s mom had made for him when he was young.) Her short brown hair was loose and she was still in her grey pajamas.
“Uh...nothing princess, your dad and I are just… wrestling. You see, he said he didn't want to make breakfast today and I always make it so we were seeing who was going to.” The blonde looked back at George for support- thank god, their daughter was only six and wouldn't be able to see through Clay’s bullshit. They shared a panicked look before the brunette caught the message.
“Ah, yeah! We were just- just wrestling, don't worry about it, Ally.” He said and smiled at her, hoping she wouldn't make any further questions- she was quite curious, after all. “Do you need anything..?” It was a poor attempt at switching the topics of conversation but it seemed to work, as the girl nodded.
“’m hungry and Papa promised to make me some pancakes today! Cole is hungry too!” She said and opened the door fully. Now, without the door closed or the constant...distractions, George could hear the noises coming from their children’s room- it wasn't necessarily crying, but it was close enough.
“Fuck.” Clay whispered and the brunette glared at him- after they adopted Allyson George had tried to get his husband to stop cursing, doing so himself, that way she wouldn't pick up the bad habit. Needless to say, it wasn't going as planned. “We’ll be right there, okay, princess? We just need a minute.” (Translation: give us a minute, we need to put some clothes on.)
“Okay, Papa!” She said and closed the door. The men looked at each other for a moment, until Clay started laughing suddenly. He let himself fall beside his husband, as they both giggled at what had just happened.
“Oh my god, Clay! You're such an idiot, I told you it was a bad idea.” George said, playfully hitting the blonde’s arm. “Whose fault would it have been if Ally walked in on us, huh?” His husband wheeze- the first time George had heard Clay’s laugh the Brit thought he was dying, but now that he was used to it he noticed how contagious it was.
“Y-Your face! Oh my g-god! I-I can't b-breathe!” He said between laughter, George laughed along with him. After a few seconds, they had calmed down (more like Clay had calmed down and could breathe now.) “Okay, okay, we need to get up before she comes in again.” The blonde said and started getting up, George, on the other hand, groaned and stayed in place. “Stay if you want, but you aren't getting any pancakes then.”
“Ugh, fine. Can you toss me my clothes?” He asked. Clay stared at him for a second before opening the drawer and throwing George his iconic “ 404” blue shirt, a pair of grey jogging, boxers, and his (formerly Clay’s) green hoodie. “Thanks.” The blonde muttered something along the lines of “geez, you're so lazy,” before he started looking for something to wear himself.
He finished getting dressed rather quickly and, as he pulled the hoodie on top of his head, he admired his husband’s body. Clay has always been bigger than him, not only in height (which he used to make jokes about a lot) but also in built, while George was thin and had little muscle in his arms, Clay had broad shoulders and strong arms- George would never admit how safe he felt when his husband wrapped those arms around him. Unintentionally, his eyes traveled down the blonde’s torso and he bit his lip- why did he have to be so hot?
“You should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Clay’s voice broke him out of whatever trance he was in before. The Brit rolled his eyes, the number of times his husband had used that phrase since they met was unmeasurable (of course, only recently had they been actually able to fake photographs, as Fundy gifted them one of the cameras he made for their wedding. The furry’s work was truly amazing.)
“What makes you think I haven't already?” He winked at the other man, delighted with the way his cheeks heated up- Clay wasn't the only one who could make his partner a flustered mess. George snickered and finally got up, stretching his arms. “Come on let's go downstairs, I want pancakes.”
“Might as well become a stay-at-home husband with how many house chores I already do.” Clay said and the brunette laughed again- of course, the man was exaggerating, but it was funny imaging it. “You look tired, want me to help you, babe?” He got closer to George and asked, already wrapping an arm around his waist.
“I told you you could do it once at the wedding, and I'm starting to regret my decision.” He knew what his husband meant by “ helping ” him, but George was perfectly fine on his own, thank you very much. “So, no, I'm fine, love.” The man next to him pouted, a silent plea to do it anyway. George stopped walking, looking at him, and sighed. “if you want to do it so badly you can carry me over to the kid’s room, okay? But that's it.” Clay punched the air in victory and the Brit had to bite back a smile, he could be so childish sometimes.
His husband moved the hand on his waist upwards slightly and placed the other one on the back part of George’s knees, before effortlessly picking him up. The brunette looked up at Clay’s face, who was already staring back at him with a smirk. George hid his face on the man’s chest and groaned (Clay had done this back at their wedding as well and he had the same reaction.)
“I do,” George said, smiling at his (very) soon-to-be husband, who smiled back at him.
“And, now, through the power invested in me by this church, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may kiss the groom.” The brunette’s insides felt like goo as Clay leaned forward and captured his lips, the loud cheers of their friends and families were drowned out as George enjoyed the moment, kissing back his husband (husband!)
They (begrudgingly) broke apart, pressing their forehead together. “I love you, Georgie.” The blonde said quietly, it felt incredibly intimate despite them being in front of a large crowd of people.
“I love you too, Clay.” He said in the same tone. Hand-in-hand they started walking to the front door of the church.
“Can I- Can I try something?” Clay asked him, his voice drowned out by the cheering of people as they left the church as well. George nodded, he wasn't sure what his husband was about to do, but he trusted Clay with his life.
The blonde smiled and placed a hand on his waist. “Hold on tight.” Was all he said, before putting his other hand on the backside of George’s knees and pushing him up, carrying the other man bridal style.
“I- Clay!” He nearly shouted and threw his arms around his husband’s shoulders quickly. “I can't believe you actually did this.” Clay looked down at him and grinned. The sound of Fundy’s camera taking pictures reached his ears and George’s face turned a darker shade of red- Sapnap was inevitably going to tease him about this.
“Well, I did ask you if I could bridal-carry you at the wedding didn't I?” The blonde smiled at their guests as he finally exited the church, both of them getting hit by rice moments later (courtesy of Tommy, who said that the only reason he was even there was to: One, be the flower boy with Ranboo and Two, throw rice at the newlywed couple.)
“I thought you were joking! I-I didn't think you were serious about it!” Clay wheezed, careful not to drop George as he was doing so. “It's not funny, this is actually pretty uncomfortable.”
“Oh come on, babe, we both know that's a lie.” The blonde smirked at him- screw him and how much he knew George-, and then leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips (the crowd cheered harder at that and a “save that for tonight!” from Sapnap was distinguishable between all the shouting.) “Besides, it's mandatory to carry the bride like this. Don't you know?”
“Fuck off.” He mumbled into the other’s chest, completely ignoring the fact that he should be looking at the guests or his husband, not ignoring the whole world and hiding in the safe-heaven that was Clay’s chest.
“I would rather fuck you,” The blonde whispered in his ear, sending shivers down George’s spine. God, this man would be the death of him.
Their children's room was at the end of the hall, only one door over from theirs. Clay pushed the door gently with his foot, not wanting to bother the child inside.
The room wasn’t very big, but it was enough for a single bed, a crib, a wardrobe, and toys for both of their children. Clay got close to the crib and let down George, after giving him a quick kiss he left the room and went (presumably) downstairs to start breakfast.
“Shhh, Cole, it's okay, I'm here.” He picked up the one-year-old and started rocking him in his arms, this seemed to calm the infant. “Are you hungry?” The brunette separated the boy from his chest and looked at him. He had very short (obviously, he was only one-year-old) black hair and a rather chubby body, like most babies his age.
Cole nodded. “Hungry!” He informed the man, George hummed and hugged the infant close as he exited the room- due to him only being one year old, the Brit could still carry him without any problems, the same thing couldn't be said for Allyson, though.
Immediately after setting foot on the first floor, George was hit with the smell of freshly made food- just what he needed to start the morning. He entered the kitchen and placed Cole on his red high chair, pressing a kiss on his forehead after the infant whined from the loss of contact- he had never been one to give a lot of physical affection, but being with Clay for ten years had side effects, not that they were bad ones.
Speaking of the devil. Clay was finishing up the pancakes, flipping them skillfully in the pan, making a tower with the once that he had completed. Allyson stood next to him, watching in awe as her father made breakfast. George smiled at the scene- his favorite part of being married was the domesticity of it all: waking up cuddled up with Clay, the way the man hugged his waist whenever George was making coffee, playing with the kids together, everything.
“Why hello there handsome,” Clay turned towards the brunette and said the stupid apron George had gotten him as a joke present for Christmas once. (It was the stereotypical “kiss the chef” but he had asked Bad to sew it for him, not wanting to pay an absurd number of emeralds for it.) George had to put his hand on top of his mouth to cover the dumb smile he had on his face. “Do you come here often?” The blonde turned off the stove and approached him, his hands soon finding their way to George’s waist and pushing the man close to his chest.
“I do actually, this is my kitchen. Mind if I ask what you're doing here?” He played along, placing his hands on one other’s chest. (Both of them seemed to have forgotten that their children were there, and even though Cole wouldn't remember this soon, Allyson would.)
“I was looking for you, beautiful. You see-”
“Papa, Dad, I'm hungry! Leave your PDA for later!” Allyson said, pulling on George’s (stolen) hoodie. Clay’s smirk broke and turned into a wheeze, he let go of the brunette to place his hand on top of his knees for support. George laughed with him, walking to the counter to distribute the tower of pancakes that lay there, forgotten by the couple.
“Wh-Who even taught you that? PDA?” Clay asked the girl when he finally got his composure back. George took four plates from the cabinet and started placing the pancakes on them (two for Cole, three for himself, and four for both Allyson and Clay.) Grabbing the syrup from one of the base cabinets and putting it on the table- and Clay talked about being a stay-at-home husband, hah! George would be much better than him at that.
“Uncle Sapnap did! He said: "Your dads are always doing gross PDA with each other, I leave them alone for two seconds and all of a sudden George has a hickey.” And when I asked what that meant he said: “PDA is public demonstration of affection, like when they kiss for example.” but he wouldn't tell me what a hickey is. What is it, Papa?” George choked on air, suddenly becoming very aware of the way the hoodie didn't completely cover the purple mark on the top part of his neck. He looked over at Clay who looked just as surprised as him.
“What?!” The blonde asked, his panicked tone only managed to make the girl more confused.
“I asked what a hickey is, Papa. Is it something bad?” She looked at George, probably expecting him to give her the answers she wanted. But he wasn't about to do that. “Dad, is it?” The brunette wasn't sure what to say either.
“Not necessarily..?” He settled on- a magnificent answer, I know. Then he turned to his husband. “Clay, help me, stop being in shock, dumbass.” The blonde looked at the floor, thinking.
“Gimme a second, Georgie. Heck, how do you even answer that?” He asked no one. “Okay, Ally, it isn't something bad, alright?” The girl nodded, she had apparently sat down next to Cole as her parents freaked out. “It’s a type of bruise..that you get on your neck sometimes.” George suffered internally while he listened to his husband’s response, all he wanted was for the ground to swallow him.
“Oh! Like the one Dad has?” Allyson pointed at the only visible mark on his neck and George glared at his husband trying to say: “ This is all your fucking fault” through his stare.
“Yeah, like that one,” Clay smirked at George- the bastard smirked at him- before continuing. “So, ready for some pancakes, princess?” He got up and asked- when had he even sat down? George didn't know.
“Yes! Papa’s pancakes are the best! I want to cook like him when I grow up so I can eat pancakes all day.” She said with a smile- George loved Allyson’s cheerful and energetic personality, in some ways it reminded him of Clay’s.
“Now, I know that sounds great, Ally, but if you eat nothing other than pancakes then you're going to have a stomach ache.” The blonde told her and ruffled the girl’s hair. George grabbed the children’s plates and took them to the table, placing them indent of the owner’s. Then he did the same with his and Clay’s.
“Yeah, and then Bad would be mad at us,” George added, kissing his husband’s cheek before sitting down. And as soon as he did he took a bite from the food- Clay had always been the one to cook ever since they moved together, he had tried to teach George but was unsuccessful.
The rest of the family’s breakfast was spent as it usually was: joking around and enjoying the delicious food Clay had made. The blonde swearing he was going to murder Sapnap for telling their child that and George consenting to it, saying he would distract Karl. Once they were done, Clay grabbed the plates and placed them on the sink, turning to his husband. (The kids had gone out to the garden to play, Allyson wanted to try out the treehouse that they had built and dragged Cole along with her, claiming that she would be careful.)
“Now, I think there was something we were doing before our daughter interrupted us?” Clay looped his arms around George’s waist (for probably the hundredth time that morning) and whispered into his ear.
“I don't know, were we?” He asked, turning around. “Think you'll just have to remind me…”
“Gladly.” George threw his arms around his husband’s shoulders and jumped on top of the counter- it was bound to be uncomfortable if he remained in the same position. He knew from experience.
“Dad, Papa, what are you doing?”
“You have to be fucking kidding me.”