George

chapter 1: Christmas Dinner

by padfoot


This was written as a Christmas present for midnightfeather. Many thanks to her for firstly prompting me to write it, and secondly for giving me permission to share it with all of you.

Disclaimer: Not mine.


"Whose dog is this?" Burt asks for the fiftieth time, shoving the little terrier with his foot, trying to move him away from the barbeque.

The answer is a resounding shrug, as the extended family glance up from their magazines and books to laugh at Burt's struggle. They're all at Carole's brother's place in San Diego, enjoying the relative warmth while the rest of America freezes. With nothing to occupy their big backyard, the family hasn't made any efforts to rid it of the small, friendly dog who has recently started to visit. He's perfectly well behaved, collar-less and obviously in need of a home, which unfortunately they're not equipped to supply. Fortunately, he never does anything more annoying than stare beseechingly whenever food is being prepared. That characteristic alone, however, is getting Burt increasingly frustrated, and he's looking unnerved as he flips over the two fillets of fish, being prepared for the non-turkey eaters in the family.

"C'mon, little guy. I got nothing for you. Go talk to someone else."

The dog refuses to look away, blinking twice while his eyes follow Burt's gesturing hand.

Blaine eventually takes mercy on Burt, coming to stand beside him and offering a beer in exchange for the tongs.

"I know he understands what I'm saying," Burt mutters as he steps back, relinquishing anding Blaine the tongs, and Blaine just chuckles in reply. The dog has carefully watched the exchange of utensils and is now focussed on Blaine.

"You're a smart little boy, aren't you?" Blaine coos, smiling down at the dog. "Very curious about what's going on up here, right? I could be making you food. I could be cooking a giant squid. I could not be doing anything and just want to tease you. But you, little dog, are never, ever going to know."

"He can't understand you, Blaine," Kurt calls over, his tone gently teasing.

"You know exactly what I'm saying, don't you?" he continues, pointedly ignoring his boyfriend, "You with the big, curious eyes and cute, curious ears. You're like curious George, aren't you?"

The dog wags his tail, and Blaine beams in delight.

"George, huh? Is that who you are? Hmm, I see. Our little curious George."

On the other side of the yard, Kurt watches with a frown. Blaine bends down, petting the dog and grinning too wide and too happy as it snuffles at his palm. Kurt sighs in pre-meditated defeat. He knows exactly how this is going to end.


A/N: In case you're wondering, George is a border terrier. Particular pictures of him relating to this fic can be found on my tumblr.