#hodgeving

"No, you're not fine." John cuts his protestations off and takes his arm to steer him away from the break room. George almost flinches from the touch, skin crawling at the sensation when he's already sensitive, but John lets him go once he's steered them into an empty meeting room. "You can't fool me, George, I know you too well."

"I could've handled it." He lowers himself tightly into a chair anyway, grateful for the decrease in noise as John shuts the door and the rest of the office out. Birthday cake in the break room is a fun thing, he knows it's meant to be a fun thing, and it frustrates the hell out of him when he can't do Fun Things like other people. "You didn't have to-"

"You're rocking, that's not a great sign." John perches on the table beside him and, oh, George didn't realise he'd been doing that. He has been having a bit of a day, he supposes, after he didn't realise how loud his computer volume was up first thing this morning and he blasted himself with music unexpectedly. He's been a bit edgy and overstimulated ever since. "I'll grab you some cake and bring it through here, yeah? Just take a minute away from the noise."

"I-. Yeah, that would be nice." George tugs the stim necklace out from under his collar, because he knows John won't judge him for it. Hell, John's the one who turned him onto the thing, after he chewed through so many pencils during a big project last year that Crozier had a go at him about it. "Thanks, John."

"Don't mention it," his friend shrugs and hops back off the table, then pauses when George impulsively grabs his hand and gives it a quick squeeze. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, maybe not have his hand dropped so fast, even, but then thinks better of it and makes a hasty exit with his ears burning bright red.