#2363

Thirty minutes later, there’s Alex at the door, clutching two cappuccinos. Smelling like the warm, sure thing he sometimes is for George.

George just stands back in his kitchen and holds still, waiting for Alex to notice. It’s difficult not to cross his arms defensively over the exaggerated roundness of his chest. He glances down surreptitiously, afraid his running shorts will look... empty, or something.

Alex will know what to do. He’ll grin, probably; he’ll say something dry and a little mean, but his voice will go soft and sweet; they’ll both laugh. And once George laughs he’ll know it’s something he can deal with.

“So what’s the matter?”

George waits.

When Alex’s eyes snag on George’s chest, distorting the logo on his hoodie, he doesn’t smile. He stands up. He glances up at George’s face, then back down to his chest. George can’t decide if crossing his arms in front or behind will make him feel less silly.

Alex’s voice is quiet, light. “Has it happened to you before?”

George makes a choked sound. “Of- of course not! You’d have heard, wouldn’t you?”

A smile spreads from one corner of Alex’s mouth. Warm relief starts to spread through George. Alex will laugh. It’s going to fix everything, once he does. Alex doesn’t laugh at George if there isn’t something to be done to fix it, afterwards.

“Me neither,” Alex murmurs. “I know someone, though, who’s had it before.”

“Who? Carlos?”

Alex twitches instead of shaking his head. “I’m not saying.”

“What, no, you’ve - come on, tell me.” George sounds whiny in his own ears.

Alex pries the lid off his half-empty cappuccino. “You know how to put it right, don’t you?” He slurps.

George feels brittle. He shakes his head gently, fearful like it might topple off his shoulders.

“Sure you do,” Alex is still smiling, but it’s dampened, distant.

“Alex,” George says, stupid. He doesn’t even know why.

Alex pushes the second coffee across the kitchen island towards him. “What’s the plan, then?”

“I don’t have one, mate. I just - didn’t - can’t really go out like this, can I?”

Alex makes a considering noise. The scalpel that is his attention is dragged down the soft and unfamiliar lines of George’s changed body. Maybe now he’ll find the splinter of humor in the situation; maybe now he’ll reveal it to George.

“Dunno.”

George makes an affronted noise.

Alex raises an eyebrow. “Can’t really get a good look, under those layers.”

George starts to take his hoodie off. His shirt underneath clings to it. He almost lets it happen. He likes to flex. It makes Carmen and her friends giggle; it makes Alex laugh at George’s expense.

Instead, Alex’s audible inhale makes George freeze. He’s trapped, face warm against the soft inside of the hoodie. He tries to fumble with the hem of the shirt, uncertain of how much of his changed chest he’s revealed. Alex says, “Here, let me-” and when his fingers graze George’s stomach his muscles seize. It’s a moment he wishes he could strike from the unfolding of time itself.

“Mate,” Alex says, and finally, finally, he laughs.

George wants to faint with relief. “Help me, please.”

Alex doesn’t help. His low laugh echoes down the hall as he tows George back to his bedroom. George starts to thrash when he’s pushed to sitting on his bed. He’s still stuck in the hoodie.

“Shh. Georgie, you have to let me see.”

It’s an undignified struggle and George emerges mussed and stroppish. He yanks his shirt back down over his chest. “I don’t exactly see why I should, when-”

“George. Georgie, do you want my help or not?”

“Mate, you’ve been no help at all so far.”

“So let me undress you.”

“How- how is that-”

Alex sits back on his haunches at the side of George’s bed. George swallows without noticing he’s done it.

“Wait, you really don’t know, do you.”

“Please, Alex, do enlighten me!”

Alex giggles. “You’ve got to use it to lose it.”

George looks down at his crotch. Where his thighs are pressed together there’s a singular throb. He thinks a choked sound might escape him.

Alex breathes in through his teeth. His hand is warm and slow, smoothing up and down George’s side, finding the softer dip of his waist.