atehimrightup | for george

George tugs at him and Lee finally breaks out of the haze of anger, blinking and looking around. People are staring and when he turns to look at George, it’s impossible to read his expression.

Lee just nods, letting himself be led out of the bar and down the street. George is stomping and not really looking at him and Lee’s heart jumps up into his throat as blood runs down his cheek. The guy got one lucky shot to his cheek and the stupid ring he was wearing split his skin just over the sharpness of his cheekbone.

“Are you okay?” Lee asks, horribly concerned even as George drags him down the street like a child in need of reprimanding.

"Am I okay?" says George, stopping in the street and wheeling around to face Lee, dark eyes wide, colour in his cheeks high and hectic. He sees the blood on Lee's face and frowns, raising his hand to smear it on pale skin. "Am I okay? Jesus Christ, are you okay? I've never..." he blinks. "What happened back there?"

Lee stops short when George rounds on him, his own paler eyes wide as George raises his voice. Lee has a hard time reading him, unsure if he's pissed. He seems kind of pissed, but he reaches out to wipe at the blood on Lee's face, so he's getting mixed signals.

"That guy was an asshole!" Lee says, feeling the need to defend himself. "I told him to leave, okay? I gave him a chance, but then he-- he grabbed you after you had already said no! What was I supposed to do? You said no and one thing I'm never gonna do is stand there while someone acts like you don't have a say over your own fucking body, George. Okay?"

Lee heaves in a breath, staring into George's eyes with a fierce expression. "I don't feel bad about it. He deserved what he got."

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me, Lee," says George, sharp, a little exasperated, but it's driven by fear and adrenaline, not anger. "You think that was the first time somebody I didn't want to fuck out their hands on me? I could have handled it." A muscle in his jaw ticks and he lets out a little exasperated noise. "You didn't have to do that for me, darling."

"I know you don't. I waited, okay? I tried. I know you don't need me," Lee gets out, expression hardening at the thought of other's putting their hands on George when he didn't want it. He swallows hard and crosses his arms over his chest, realizing only then that his knuckle is split open. Again.

"I didn't do it just for you," he admits in a low grumble, turning his head to the side and clenching his jaw. "I did it for everyone that says no and isn't listened to. Including me."

Everything about Lee's posture then is tense and defensive and George forces himself to stay open, hands hanging at his side. Something in his chest clenches like a fist at what Lee says. He's been lucky, in his life. He hadn't felt safe when he first went to court, sure, but nobody ever forced him. He'd used his body in a myriad of ways, but at least he'd always had the luxury of telling himself that it was his choice.

That muscle ticks in his jaw again.

"I didn't think of it like that," he admits.

Lee shrugs a little at that, and then forces himself to uncross his arms when it no longer seems like George might be angry with him. He looks to the side for another long moment, feeling oddly vulnerable as his eyes sting, and then he finally meets George's eyes again.

"I'm sorry that I made a scene," he admits, reaching up to drag his wild curls back from his face. "But I'm not sorry for what I did. I'd break the hand of anyone that tried to hurt you. And it's not because I don't think you could handle yourself. I know you can. It's because I want to break their fucking hand for daring to try, okay?"

"Okay," says George, and he steps in, cradling the side of Lee's face with one hand. There's barely an inch in the difference in their height, so he has to lean up just a little to kiss Lee's forehead. "What do you need, right now?"

If there are consequences, they'll deal with them when they get to it.

"I don't know," Lee admits, feeling a little like he might burst into tears when George kisses his forehead. He covers his face with both hands instead and heaves a shaky breath. "I'm so drunk, man. And I'm hungry."

But at least George isn't mad at him, so he calls it a win. He lowers his hands and puts them on George's face instead, eyes going dark when he leaves a smear of his own blood on George's cheek. "I want to go home. Or wherever you're going. I want you to not be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," says George, turning his face to kiss the heel of Lee's bloodied hand. "You scared me. That's all. Let's go back to my place. We can sober up -- or keep drinking, if you prefer -- order food. Be there together."

He strokes one hand over Lee's bright hair.

"That'll help."

Lee is so pumped full of adrenaline right now, so keyed up for a fight or a fuck, and then he watches George kiss his hand. He gets Lee's blood on his stupid, perfect mouth and Lee is suddenly so turned on that he feels like he might die.

He stares at the bright crimson streak on George's lips and then leans in to lick it off, sucking at George's bottom lip and biting softly before he forces himself to pull away, reaching up to cover his mouth with both hands as he takes a ragged breath.

George just said that Lee had scared him. The last thing he wants to do is do it again. He nods, hands still over his mouth, and then eventually drops them. There's blood all over his face. He can smell it.

"Okay," he says shakily, nodding a little and then wrinkling his nose. "Or-- Or I can just go home. I didn't mean to scare you, George. I never want to scare you."

"I was scared for you, not of you," he says, and he takes Lee's hand. "Come on. We'll get you cleaned up and get some food in you."

He can't help but think of that night when Lee was bruised and bloodied and they'd taken a bath and everything had changed.

"Okay, But you didn't have to be scared for me. I had him handled," Lee says a little glumly, letting George take his hand and lead him down the street, feeling a little bit like a child. Embarrassed, sullen. Like a problem that needs to be solved.

"From being nobility to playing nursemaid for a broke loser with anger issues," Lee jokes, suddenly feeling awful for foisting himself on George. Twice now, he's had to help clean up Lee's messes. "This place really threw you for a loop, huh?"

"Oh, shut up," says George, fondly, as they walk down the empty street hand in hand. "What this place gave me was the choice of who I wanted to spend my time with, when I knew it wouldn't get me anything other than more of their company."

He squeezes Lee's hand. "I wouldn't even have been allowed to choose my own wife at home. But here I am." He looks across. "You don't end up in my bed as often as you do by accident, you know."

"Well, that's very sweet," Lee says begrudgingly, as if he doesn't want to concede the point but has no other choice. "Even though I think you just called me your wife."

Thankfully, they had chosen a bar close to George's building, so it isn't long before they're in the lobby and Lee cuddles up to George from behind, kissing the side of his neck and smearing blood on his pale skin while they wait for the elevator. "Of course I'm in your bed all the time. Where else would your wife be?"

"I was just making a point about personal freedoms," says George, grinning and tilting his head to one side to give Lee more room to kiss the side of his neck. "But my bed is exactly where you're supposed to be. So." The door opens and he drags Lee into the elevator with him.

Lee tries to ignore the way that his drunk little heart seems to skip a beat, laughing as he's pulled into the elevator. He lets George hit the button for his floor while Lee crowds in front of him, reaching up to touch the side of his face and staring at him with no small amount of awe.

"I'd kill anyone who hurt you," he says in a low voice, stroking bloody fingertips along George's jaw. "I wouldn't even blink."

"After tonight, I believe that," says George, taking Lee's chin in his hand so that he can take a kiss. "Alarming as it was." He takes another. "I can't say I'm not flattered."

"You should be flattered," Lee murmurs into the kiss, wrapping his arms around George as if they have all the time in the world. He licks into George's mouth and tastes blood. It's his own, familiar enough of a taste by now, but it still makes him shiver. George knows that he's dangerous. Maybe not just how dangerous, but he knows enough. And he's still here, kissing Lee so nicely.

The elevator stops and the doors open while they're still kissing, and Lee's eyes pop open when he hears twin gasps coming from the hall. He slowly turns around to see two young women dressed like they're going out dancing, all skin tight clothes and too much makeup, and Lee clears his throat as he pulls away and crosses his wrists behind his back to keep from touching George for the next sixty seconds.

"Ladies," he says, nodding his head at them as he passes by with blood on his face, all over his lips and running down the side of his neck. They look alarmed and intrigued all at once, and Lee bursts into laughter as he rushes down the hall towards George's door.

Lee rushes ahead and George smiles at the girls, sketching then a lazy bow as the elevator doors close. He rolls his eyes at he walks down the corridor towards Lee, rummaging in his pocket for his key.

"You're a terror," he did, with all the fondness that he ever calls Lee 'darling' with.

“What? We gave them something juicy to talk about,” he says with a tipsy smile, managing to look slightly boyish even with blood on his teeth. “We probably just made their whole night.”

Once they’re inside, Lee flicks on the flight and immediately slips out of his sneakers before turning to look at George, who is so beautiful that Lee can barely stand it. Lee’s blood is stark on his face, a heavy contrast against his pale skin and dark hair. He looks wild, and it makes Lee ache.

“I’m sorry I didn’t just hang back and let you verbally eviscerate that asshole,” Lee says as he closes the distance between them, reaching out to put his hands on George’s hips. “I’m sure it would have been way hotter than me punching him.”

"I don't know," says George, lifting one hand to hold Lee's chin, head slightly tilted. "You punching him was pretty hot." The modern parlance sounds odd coming out of his mouth. He takes another kiss.

"What do you want to eat?" He asks, his thumb stroking against Lee's skin. "You wash up, and I'll order something?"

“Yeah?” Lee smiles and it only widens when George kisses him again. He doesn’t seem to mind the blood on Lee’s face, or the violence he just showed. It makes Lee feel something a little like hope. At least he thinks that’s what it is. He’s never really felt it before.

But then George asks him what he wants to eat and there’s only one real answer. It brings Lee back down to earth a little bit, but he’s also drunk enough that it makes him laugh. What a complicated question!

“Literally whatever you want,” Lee tells him, because he honestly doesn’t care as long as it’s food and George is there. He kisses the corner of George’s mouth, lapping at the blood there and biting softly at his bottom lip, more of a playful nip that anything. “You need to wash up, too. Even though you look very pretty like this.”

He's aware that he has blood on him wherever Lee has touched him -- mostly his face and his neck -- and, probably, it should bother him more but, mostly, it makes him think of that day at the hunt when James smeared his face with deer blood and the whole trajectory of his life shifted.

"Indian, maybe," he says. "I can wash my face after I order."

“If you must,” Lee says with a pout, licking at another spot on George’s chin. He knows that he’s being kind of weird. He just can’t seem to stop. “Ooh, tiki masala.”

He pulls away and turns to head toward the bathroom, and then stops and soon as he remembers something, turning around to point at George with both hands.

“Oh, I do still wanna do body shots,” he says with an eager nod. “I did not forget about the body shots.”

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