Fish N' Chips
Indeed, it is a Being Human Fic.
Title: Fish N' Chips
Pairing: Not quite Mitchell/George
Rating: PG
Summary: Some days, George feels a little bit more human.
Disclaimer: I wish I owned these boys.
Author's Note: WTF IDEK
Some days George gets stuck in a state.
Like when he’s in the supermarket, roaming around the Stop N’ Shop with a green plastic basket slung over one arm looking at frozen bags of chips. Chips, just like anybody else, figuring out which would go best with dinner. Extra crispy? Slices? Crinkled? Garlic Cheese? Could Mitchell even eat garlic?
Said man stands directly behind him, making a game of nearly running George over with the shopping cart, and George hates how he jumped every single time. He hates it even more how the smirk never leaves Mitchell’s face because the bastard knew that he would.
It makes George wonder; maybe Mitchell really can’t eat garlic. Maybe if he got the garlic chips Mitchell would be stuck with soggy fish and no side. It was an entirely preposterous thought because Mitchell ate all the garlic bread when it was spaghetti night, but Geroge still thinks of it as a brilliant idea.
“You can eat garlic chips, right?”
Mitchell rolls his eyes as if to say You really have to ask that? Really? and George rolls his back as if to say Well I was just checking you know, just in case, because even if you can eat it, it makes you smell horrid and I’m really looking out for your best interest.
“What kind of chips do you want?” he tries again.
Mitchell shrugs his shoulders, not even bothering to straighten up off the cart.
“There’s extra crispy, straight, crimped, curly-"
Mitchell laughs. “Do those happen to be the gay chips?”
“No. Wait, what? No-no nonono- that’s completely- why would- what made you think I was insinuating-"
“George, calm down. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
George’s face flushes all the way to his ears and he hates how he can be so easily played.
“Pick a chip,” he grumbles because he’s most definitely not planning on choosing the exact opposite of what Mitchell wants.
‘Oh Blimey George, it’s just chips. Does it really matter?”
George puffs out his chest indignantly. “Of course it matters. There’s crunchy and floppy and this Ore-Ida stuff that I think is American and these brown store brand ones that are much cheaper but look like something out of the garbage disposal and this gourmet organic stuff with- oh is that rosemary? Yes indeed, rosemary and thyme which is- good Lord- 6.79 special offer.” George’s voice rises in pitch at the price and he puts the bag back, knowing that he wouldn’t purchase it even if Mitchell hated it.
Mitchell laughs and turns the cart so that he’s heading towards the checkout counters. “It’s chips. Just grab the cheapest one and let’s go.”
George can’t help but feel a little pleased because the cheapest ones really do look un-edible so he does the opposite of what Mitchell says and grabs the 4.99 American chips instead.
These moments gratify George so much that he doesn’t even mind the funny looks he and Mitchell receive from the check-out girl because it isn’t a look of horror or disgust- just funny. It doesn’t matter because at that moment he and Mitchell are just two guys shopping. They’re just two normal flat-mates buying a normal tea of fish and chips and it doesn’t matter that Miss. Suzie Q. is looking at them like they’re queer because even being gay is normal.
And when he’s seated in the kitchen between Annie and Mitchell laughing over some joke that isn’t even funny, George is reminded of a time when he would sit with his girlfriend and do the exact same thing. A time where he was just George and ghosts stayed in movies, vampires belonged in Anne Rice novels, and werewolves were nothing more than bad prosthetics on t.v.
On these days, George forgets about the monsters and feels safe. He becomes Normal George, human George who can sit and eat tea with his mates, laugh and not care. These days, it doesn’t even matter when Mitchell says he always thought the Ore-Ida chips were the best.