Two Being Human Ficlets
Title: there is just one map you’ll need
Pairing: George/Mitchell
Rating: PG-13
Words: 331
Disclaimer: Not mine. Title from Bright Eyes song “You Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will.”
Summary: Mitchell needs some distraction.
A/N: Written for toestastegood who asked for George/Mitchell, sunshine.
He hears the girl’s heartbeat from across the room. It’s fast, rapid, if he took her now the blood would gush from her veins, hot and warm, so much more satisfying than this tepid beer.
But George is right beside him.
Tapping out a beat on the table with his fingers and there’s a light laugh tumbling from his lips, he’s grinning like a mad man as he tells some silly story about his day, and he’s happy.
Just happy.
George is never happy, never content.
There’s always worry and guilt turning him inside out until Mitchell is sure he’ll collapse under the weight of it. Just fold up and stop one day, until he’s not George anymore, until he’s not anything.
But tonight he’s down right giddy.
It’s charming.
Mitchell feels the corners of his lips tugging upwards almost against his will. The girl with her steady heartbeat and too drunk stumbling legs fades away until it’s just noise, just part of the rhythm of the pub.
Instead Mitchell focuses on George and the erratic drumming of his fingers on the table, the brightness in his eyes, and his heart, beating gently, a familiar sound that Mitchell can feel almost as much as he can hear.
It warms him somehow, deep down, comforts him. It makes him forget about blood and drinking and need.
George pauses mid-sentence, his brow furrowing and Mitchell rolls his eyes. The worry’s always there, just out of sight---
“Mitchell, are you alright? You look a bit…odd---”
“I’m fine,” he says, clapping a cool hand on George’s back. “I’m brilliant.”
George’s smile wavers a moment before spreading into a grin brighter than sunshine ever dared to be.
“You’re a nutter, you know that right?”
Mitchell chuckles and downs the last of his too warm beer.
“Let’s go home, George.”
They leave together and Mitchell drapes his arm casually around George’s shoulders as they emerge out into the chilly night air.
Mitchell doesn’t think of the girl again, not even once.
Title: Perspective
Pairing: Annie/George/Mitchell
Rating: PG-13
Words: 379
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: Spoilers through season one.
Summary: Annie makes a list of the things that she misses the most. The boys remind her of what she still has.
Sometimes when she’s feeling sulky, she makes a list of the things she misses the most---
Popcorn, calling her mum to chat about boys, buying new boots, getting drunk off fruity, girly drinks in garish shades of pink and green, her sister, and the feel of warm water splashing down her back after a long day.
She misses so much.
The list is endless and always growing. She’ll see George eating an apple and remember that she’ll never do that again, never sink her teeth into sweet fruit, never squeal when the juice drips down her chin and lands on her new t-shirt. She’ll see Mitchell leaning against the wall outside, a cigarette dangling from his fingers and know she can’t ask him for a drag, that she won’t be able to feel the smoke burning her lungs, won’t cough and wretch the way she used to when her girlfriends talked her into smoking in the bathroom between classes at school.
It depresses her. And then the lights flicker and that makes it worse. Reminds her she’s a freak. A ghost. A dead girl with such an awfully sad story.
Then the boys come home.
The two of them with their cold noses and red ears, they greet her with hugs and kisses on the cheek that feel soft as whispers against her ear. They tell her about their day and their problems while she makes them tea, relishing the way the heat almost tickles her skin.
She’ll tell them later about how she added something new to the list. Something silly like, I’ll never worry about crossing the street again. And they’ll laugh and shake their heads.
“Could you levitate before?”
“Scare the hell out of your idiot fiancé?”
“Disappear whenever you felt like it?”
They see possibility, they tell her it’s not so bad and then they prove it with their lips and hands and she feels it, feels every bit of it until she’s not missing anything at all.
Afterwards she snuggles between them, the cold skin of her back pressed against George’s warm stomach, Mitchell’s black curls falling across her arm, and she starts a new list in her head, a list of things she’s grateful for right now in this life that isn't a life, but something else, something different, and the first two items are their names.
Pairing: George/Mitchell
Rating: PG-13
Words: 331
Disclaimer: Not mine. Title from Bright Eyes song “You Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will.”
Summary: Mitchell needs some distraction.
A/N: Written for toestastegood who asked for George/Mitchell, sunshine.
He hears the girl’s heartbeat from across the room. It’s fast, rapid, if he took her now the blood would gush from her veins, hot and warm, so much more satisfying than this tepid beer.
But George is right beside him.
Tapping out a beat on the table with his fingers and there’s a light laugh tumbling from his lips, he’s grinning like a mad man as he tells some silly story about his day, and he’s happy.
Just happy.
George is never happy, never content.
There’s always worry and guilt turning him inside out until Mitchell is sure he’ll collapse under the weight of it. Just fold up and stop one day, until he’s not George anymore, until he’s not anything.
But tonight he’s down right giddy.
It’s charming.
Mitchell feels the corners of his lips tugging upwards almost against his will. The girl with her steady heartbeat and too drunk stumbling legs fades away until it’s just noise, just part of the rhythm of the pub.
Instead Mitchell focuses on George and the erratic drumming of his fingers on the table, the brightness in his eyes, and his heart, beating gently, a familiar sound that Mitchell can feel almost as much as he can hear.
It warms him somehow, deep down, comforts him. It makes him forget about blood and drinking and need.
George pauses mid-sentence, his brow furrowing and Mitchell rolls his eyes. The worry’s always there, just out of sight---
“Mitchell, are you alright? You look a bit…odd---”
“I’m fine,” he says, clapping a cool hand on George’s back. “I’m brilliant.”
George’s smile wavers a moment before spreading into a grin brighter than sunshine ever dared to be.
“You’re a nutter, you know that right?”
Mitchell chuckles and downs the last of his too warm beer.
“Let’s go home, George.”
They leave together and Mitchell drapes his arm casually around George’s shoulders as they emerge out into the chilly night air.
Mitchell doesn’t think of the girl again, not even once.
Title: Perspective
Pairing: Annie/George/Mitchell
Rating: PG-13
Words: 379
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: Spoilers through season one.
Summary: Annie makes a list of the things that she misses the most. The boys remind her of what she still has.
Sometimes when she’s feeling sulky, she makes a list of the things she misses the most---
Popcorn, calling her mum to chat about boys, buying new boots, getting drunk off fruity, girly drinks in garish shades of pink and green, her sister, and the feel of warm water splashing down her back after a long day.
She misses so much.
The list is endless and always growing. She’ll see George eating an apple and remember that she’ll never do that again, never sink her teeth into sweet fruit, never squeal when the juice drips down her chin and lands on her new t-shirt. She’ll see Mitchell leaning against the wall outside, a cigarette dangling from his fingers and know she can’t ask him for a drag, that she won’t be able to feel the smoke burning her lungs, won’t cough and wretch the way she used to when her girlfriends talked her into smoking in the bathroom between classes at school.
It depresses her. And then the lights flicker and that makes it worse. Reminds her she’s a freak. A ghost. A dead girl with such an awfully sad story.
Then the boys come home.
The two of them with their cold noses and red ears, they greet her with hugs and kisses on the cheek that feel soft as whispers against her ear. They tell her about their day and their problems while she makes them tea, relishing the way the heat almost tickles her skin.
She’ll tell them later about how she added something new to the list. Something silly like, I’ll never worry about crossing the street again. And they’ll laugh and shake their heads.
“Could you levitate before?”
“Scare the hell out of your idiot fiancé?”
“Disappear whenever you felt like it?”
They see possibility, they tell her it’s not so bad and then they prove it with their lips and hands and she feels it, feels every bit of it until she’s not missing anything at all.
Afterwards she snuggles between them, the cold skin of her back pressed against George’s warm stomach, Mitchell’s black curls falling across her arm, and she starts a new list in her head, a list of things she’s grateful for right now in this life that isn't a life, but something else, something different, and the first two items are their names.