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George had always associated Wilbur with the rain.
He curled up on his couch, wearing a sweater several sizes too large that smelled of coffee and warmth and the slightest splash of hard liquor that wasn’t washed out properly. He held a steaming mug that he didn’t really want to drink, and he let his head tip back with his eyes closed. Wilbur sat on the coffee table, perched on the end while he fiddled with his guitar. He had promised to play something for George but it had been silent since Wilbur had given George his drink. He had a habit of bouncing his fingers on his guitar while he thought, a soft tap-tap-tap that reminded George of raindrops falling from gutters. Outside, the wind was howling, not quite humming along to the drumline Wilbur accidentally set down.
If George wanted to get home before the storm hit Bristol, he knew he should go now. Wilbur had told him as much about ten minutes ago and George asked for a hot chocolate in response. Now it was more warm chocolate, or maybe just a hand warmer, clutched between sweater-covered hands.
“Any song requests?” Wilbur asked, breaking the peaceful silence, and George clicked his tongue in thought. He started strumming without purpose and George tightened his grip on his cup, fighting the urge to giggle.
“How about Taunt?” George asked and Wilbur let out a soft laugh.
Even as he gave a snide comment - “You really are self-obsessed at times, aren’t you?” - he began strumming the familiar fast-paced chords. He repeated the opening over and over a few times, humming under his breath, and George pulled his head up. He opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows when Wilbur was already looking back at him.
Wilbur’s cheeks went red at getting caught. George smirked.
“You remember when we filmed the music video?” George asked and Wilbur nodded, a curious glint reaching his eyes.
“You sitting through all of that annoyance like an absolute legend, yes, how could I forget?”
George let his smirk break into an easy grin. “We should do that again sometime.”
“Film a music video?”
“No.”
Wilbur blinked at him owlishly, trying to decipher what that meant, and George looked away to take a long sip of his hot chocolate. The warmth poured through his chest, pooling comfortably near his heart as Wilbur stood up and joined him on the couch. He sat on the opposite end and George stretched, faux casual as he rested his feet across Wilbur’s lap.
“You want me to try and fluster you again?” Wilbur asked finally and George gave an unclear hum in response. “Or are you trying to reverse that scenario here?”
“Is this flustering you? I didn’t think you were so weak, Wil,” George teased, eyes narrowing. Wilbur rolled his own and George took a longer sip of his drink, slurping it just because he knew the sound annoyed Wilbur.
Wilbur looked back down at his guitar, shaking his head. The grin he wore was fond despite the wrinkle in his nose and George pressed the ball of his foot into Wilbur’s thigh, amused by the way that he was utterly ignored. He kept prodding and Wilbur began playing a song that he didn’t quite recognize.
“This isn’t Taunt.”
Wilbur winked up through his lashes and George kept staring at him. George's cheeks felt like they were stuck in a permanent soft smile, warm and tight.
“I have a question,” Wilbur sang, soft enough to almost be a whisper. “It might seem strange.”
His voice was shaky as if he didn’t quite know the key of the song. George tilted his head, gaze drifting to Wilbur’s fingers. They were smooth, confident in spite of the quake in his throat. George sat back in interest, looking his friend over as he sang.
Wilbur was attractive. George wasn’t stupid, he knew that. Wilbur had a smile that seemed to take over his whole face, cheeks rounded out with deep smile lines with a low dimple on his right. His eyes crinkled in the corners, dark brown irises sparkling with mirth. He tilted his head to the side, just barely, as if his happiness was too heavy to hold. George wanted to kiss him badly whenever he smiled like that. George wanted to kiss him badly all of the time, but the way Wilbur seemed to light up so thoroughly, as if he might burst into laughter at any moment, made something in George’s heart squeeze.
Wilbur was still singing. George was supposed to be listening and not just staring at his lips.
“I know you know that I like you, but that’s not enough, so if you will, please fall in love-”
George was pretty sure he had kissed Wilbur before, on one of the rare nights that Wilbur managed to get him to drink. He didn’t remember much besides the taste of red wine and something against his lips. Neither of them mentioned it in the morning, but he couldn’t help but think about it every time he saw the wine bottles in Wilbur’s kitchen.
“You’ve gotta join me on my page, at least take a look.” Wilbur’s voice was louder now, scratchy, and George reached up to feel his own throat. His fingertips were warm and he abruptly remembered he was holding the drink Wilbur had made, bringing it to his lips.
The rain chose then to start with a crash of thunder and George fumbled, the hot chocolate spilling all over his front. He hissed, knocking the mug away, and Wilbur burst out into that laughter that never failed to make George grin. He struggled to force the expression down to a pout.
“Hey, I got a reaction out of you,” Wilbur joked as he set his guitar to the side. He stood luxuriously. George crossed his arms across his chest and regretted it as his arms pressed the wet patch into his chest. “Well, looks like you can’t go home tonight, so I can put your clothes in the laundry for you.”
“You’re such a cheater. You did not cause the storm to start, so you did not get that reaction.” George let Wilbur haul him up from the couch, going limp as Wilbur manhandled his weight. He just took it in stride aside from a noise of complaint, maneuvering George along, and George giggled at his grumbling. “I’m wearing your sweater anyways, so really, you’re doing your own laundry.”
“Mhm, am I now? And why are you wearing my sweater?”
“Because I didn’t bring my own and I was cold.” George wasn’t above fluttering his eyelashes for a joke. Wilbur huffed at him, cheeks turning pink.
“You wanna know a secret, Gogy?” Wilbur asked and George straightened up, grinning at him.
“Always.”
“You are deeply annoying.”
George laughed through his faux offended gasp and pulled away, storming off through the apartment towards Wilbur’s bedroom. He could hear the creak of floorboards as Wilbur followed and he tugged off the sweatshirt. His shirt followed it, rucked up to expose his midriff and before he could pull it down, cold hands were grabbing his waist. He yelped, swatting Wilbur’s hands off of him, and turned to be greeted with that bright glowing grin.
It was so hard to be mad. George was giving it a valiant attempt. “Do you wanna know a secret, Wilbur?”
“Always.”
“You are so annoying it’s almost unbelievable,” George said, resolute as he crossed his arms again. Wilbur still wore that grin. He broke. “And yet, for some reason, I hang out with you anyway.”
“I’m glad,” Wilbur replied, moving past George towards his closet. Without even asking, he pulled out a new sweatshirt for George and tossed it his way. George felt warm as it thumped against his face, falling into his arms as he flinched. “Wanna know another secret?”
“You know the answer to that,” George said, wiggling into the pull-over hoodie. It smelled more like chocolate than anything else, though that could’ve just been the way the sweet scent now lingered in George’s nose. He didn't mind, as long as the underlying scent of Wilbur made it through.
“I’m quite fond of you too, even if you are annoying.”
“I never said I was fond of you.”
“No, but I knew that’s what you meant,” Wilbur teased and George rolled his eyes, pulling the hoodie over his head. He tightened it so it scrunched around his face, pushed his hair down over his eyes, and he listened to Wilbur’s footsteps move closer. “Now I definitely caused this one. Do I get a prize for making you break?”
George could only think of one response. “Want another secret?”
“You know the answer to that.”
He dropped the hoodie strings and grabbed Wilbur’s collar instead, dragging him down into a hasty kiss. The rain outside matched the frantic tempo of his heart, cool air leaking in from the window. As Wilbur responded though, his arms wrapping George up just as securely as his sweatshirt did, all George felt was warmth.