I seem to be being a bit experimental here, are there no other George/Callum fics out there? There is crazy chemistry between the two actors, I can't be the only person watching this surely? I know there's some Callum/Maddy people out there and I really don't mind her so I have tried to respect her in this. But hey it is still about her current boyfriend and best friend getting it on – because damn it they really should! So if you're a Maddy-nut I don't think you'd like this a lot – you've been warned.
Also my characterisation is prob a little off, first fic for either of them, so please pass me any tips.
Starts with current (future) day, intersliced with flashbacks of when the story diverges from canon, being the start of that stuff of Ash in her comma :*(.
Warnings for graphic slash sex, and later chapter mentionings of all those crazy ('did they just show that before the watershed?') Stuff that happened to George.
Happy reading :-)
XX G&C XX
12/06/2012
Callum's fingers loose themselves in between short soft tufts of brown hair. His mind rushing with uncompleted half-formed thoughts - things he wishes he could breathe life to but he knows that if he tried they would only come out wrong, because no-one has ever taught him this. No one has ever taught him how to be honest and open and tell one person everything and nothing and just know that they know you. No one has ever taught him that it's OK to be everything he is, and admit fragility and vulnerability and that he's just keeping his head above water.
But a familiar grin pulls his gaze down from the well-traced patterns in his ceiling. Blue eyes lock and study like they can get past skin, and psyche and defences and just know – the way that no-one else as ever known.
29/03/2012
He remembered clearly all the emotions that rattled around his unsaid words that day in the hospital. How he had gone home and slammed the bedroom door shut because the world would be silent if he couldn't see that his mum was drunk, and his baby sister was crying, and his older sister, his best mate, was hanging on to life like she could just disappear, and all at the time that he was so very, very, useless. But of course the one thing he could never do was get away from himself, and being home meant that he was left alone with his ineptness, his sheer futility and the only difference was that the thoughts were louder now in his silence. But just as he thought he couldn't take anymore he had come in, George had arrived, and Callum had thought he'd scream if one word of sympathy or condolence was whispered - but it wasn't. George had simply sat, breathed a deep breath and filled the room with inane chatter about school and friendships and fashion. It had taken George one moment, a fraction of a second, to realise what Callum needed. He had just known that what he needed more than anything at that moment was not to be left alone in his silence.
12/06 -
George had a way of doing that, Callum realises. Of just looking and knowing exactly what he needs. Like now when he can't help but struggle out the strangled voice of warning; and George just looks up and smiles. His fingers interweave around his outstretched hand, the mere touch grounding. As his touch trails lower.
29/03-
That night the stillness of the stars left them lying parallel sharing their silence. Neither wanted to move and both knew there was no need for words. Callum had felt safe, comforted. For the first time in his entire life he felt understood by someone other than his sister. He felt that he could show all he was. Expose all the shaded, damaged, broken parts of himself and that there would be no judgement and no torturing silence and no fixing. That George would just understand. So in the darkness of their room, in the safety of his presence, he had let the first tears he could remember fall.
Then George had shifted and Callum had panicked - he had not been strong, he had let his body take over, he had failed. Tears were failure and now George would leave. But George didn't leave. He had simply placed an arm around him, comforted him with warmth and told him wordlessly that it was OK to cry.
12/06 -
George's arm runs from the top of his hip, across his rapidly flexing abs and rests just above his heart. Callum knows his heart is beating out of control, that he is weak to his body's impulse. More than anything he knows that George can feel that. He knows George can feel that right at this moment he is nothing but a pattern of firing neurons and answering nerve endings, dissolved to the simplest of blood and muscle and senses. But he's OK with that, he realises, as a flick of a hand draws a long licentious moan from his lips. More than that he wants George to know, he wants him to know that he can feel him, that he is lost in this. He tosses into a pillow of senses that he's come to know by heart, of sandalwood and allspice, and he keens because he is lost in a maelstrom of him, and there is nowhere else that he would rather be.
29/03 -
Eventually the tears subsided as silently as they started but George didn't move. The loop of his arm told Callum more than a million words ever could. The touch told Callum that it was OK to be weak, to be vulnerable, to break; and that after he shattered everything would still be OK. With a single lasting embrace George helped him dust off each broken part and build back together again. And he slowly came back to himself, back to the moment, back to them, there, lying together on the bed.
There were scents, masculine, protecting, enveloping scents that surrounded his very being. And Callum started to notice the rushing of his heart. He was aware his body was reacting.
He knew he was slipping so he painted a picture of a beautiful blonde as his precipice. But George shifted up, bent on an arm to create eye contact. And inside the soothing, caring, knowing blue world Callum lost the picture of that girl. All he could see were those blue eyes and that smile. All that existed in every pore was George.
12/06 –
The first touch of those lips against his heated desperate body is enough to have his hips jerking forward, his body in the position of passion that has only had one owner. His eyes map the contours of the person sitting before him in his bed. Smooth skin lit by the moon and the trail of hours of slow desire. Lips and eyes set in a smile of triumph.
He is once again taken by his beauty. A beauty that he had barely realised as they clung to survival together. No, it had dawned on him slowly in the awakening of Spring. It started with a kiss.
29/03 –
He pressed his palm against a warm cheek. He'd meant to thank him, he'd meant for words of gratitude to form from his lips. Afterward he would recall that, before the kiss, he hadn't planned or even expected it. But then he'd remember there was something about those lips, the way they looked in the moonlight and he'd know that wasn't quite true.
All it was was a brief touch of lip on lip, a passing shared inhale. And then there was the moment that the choice had to be made, to laugh it off or to dive into it, and George had been the one to take it. There had been one word to break the silence that night, one word to bring the cold rush of guilt. It was whispered from George's lips.
"Maddy".
XX G&C XX
A/N: Thank you for reading the first chapter. Hope it made sense and the boys seemed like themselves. Please leave a little comment, anything like "George/Callum – you're totally crazy"; or "actually your characterisations a little off Callum's a total cry baby" will be highly appreciated.
Oh and if anyone knows of any other George/Callum fandom stuff please let me know! :-)
One or two more chapters to come depending on how people respond.