A/N: This is a bit fluffier than I would normally write, but after seeing the full moon on the 31st, I couldn't resist! Please excuse the astronomical artistic licence of moving it to a couple of years ago. Fits the story better. There's the occasional bit of bad language in here, but nothing to write home about. This is not part of the Blood in the Night stories.
Disclaimer: Being Human and all its lovely characters belong to Toby Whithouse. No infringement is intended, and certainly no financial benefit is being made. It's just a final celebration before the new season starts!
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"George, do you have any plans for New Year's Eve?" Mitchell called through a mouthful of toast. He was lying on the couch with the telly on, a small plate held in one hand with the edge of it resting on his chest. Crumbs festooned the front of his grey t-shirt and clung sparsely to the wool of his fingerless gloves.
"What?"
George's voice wavered through to him from the kitchen. God only knew what he was doing in there. Mitchell had lost count of the times he'd told the werewolf that he didn't need to do so much housework when he was staying, but he'd ceased chiding him. He just knew now that whenever George turned up on his doorstep looking sheepish and saying that he was 'between jobs' or had 'lost his room at the hostel', it preceded a period of cleanliness and neatness that Mitchell was quite unfamiliar with.
He was, however, starting to quite like it.
"New Year's," he called back. "I was wondering if you had any plans or anything."
He took another bite of his toast. Maybe he was washing the floor again, though he hadn't heard any of the usual mutters of discontent over the fact that Mitchell didn't own a mop.
He waited for a response, but there was silence. Then he heard a scuffle, and George appeared at the door wearing yellow rubber gloves that glistened with moisture and began to drip onto the carpet.
Definitely washing the floor.
"New Year's?" George repeated, sounding confused and a little disdainful.
"Yeah," Mitchell said. "Parties, drinking, fireworks. You know. New Year's Eve?"
"Yes, Mitchell I know what it is," George protested. "What I'm wondering is why you're asking me about it?"
"Because it's two days away. I mean, I understand why you didn't want to celebrate Christmas and all that, being Jewish, but everyone gets to party and bring in the New Year don't they? It's reasonably non-denominational."
"You're a vampire," George pointed out.
Now it was Mitchell's turn to be confused. "I know," he said.
"You – celebrate New Year's Eve like norm- like other people do?" George quickly corrected himself.
Mitchell laughed. "Usually, What did you expect?"
"Well, don't vampires – I mean – you celebrate human festivals? You don't have your own?"
"Like what, bite-fest?"
George's face took on a grumpy expression at being teased, and his pushed his glasses up with a wet and rubber-covered finger before turning on his heal and going back to the kitchen.
Mitchell was amused. He recognised the face as George's 'I'm trying to have a serious conversation here, and you're making fun of me' one, and unfortunately, it just made him want to tease him more. George had elicited that response from him a lot in the 6 months or so they'd known each other, and like the housework, it was something that Mitchell was not only getting used to, but getting to like as well. Having an easy relationship with someone, an actual, genuine friendship that didn't involve violence or sycophantism or constant verbal games, was so incredibly refreshing, that every time George did appear on his doorstep and ask to stay for a couple of days, he'd been not only willing but eager to have him as a guest. There was just something about him, about the two of them, that seemed to gel, that just worked. It was – well – it was nice.
Still smiling, Mitchell got to his feet and followed George into the kitchen, padding onto the linoleum, his bare feet sticking slightly with each step. George had returned to his task of scrubbing the floor, and was on his knees beside a bucket of steaming, soapy water.
"You didn't answer my question," Mitchell said, putting his plate down beside the sink.
"What question?" George retorted, still clearly grumpy.
"Do you have any plans for New Year's?"
"No I don't," George responded shortly.
"Why don't we go out then? Go to a few pubs, get pissed."
"No thank you."
"Ah come on George!" he exclaimed. "Why not? You're a werewolf, not a monk."
George glared at him over his glasses. He didn't like the 'W' word.
"It's obviously escaped your attention that it's a full moon on New Year's Eve," he said, dipping the cloth back into the bucket. "I will be otherwise engaged."
"Really? A full moon?" Mitchell was surprised, and disappointed he realized as well. "That can't happen very often. Once in a blue moon you might even say!" He smiled at his own joke.
"Well it is a blue moon as it happens," George dropped in.
"It's a what?"
"A blue moon, the thirteenth full moon in a year. Really Mitchell, when are you going to buy a proper mop for this place," he complained suddenly. "It's almost impossible to get the floor clean like this."
"I'll put it on my New Year's resolutions list," the vampire said. "Right along with trying not to eat people."
That earned him another dirty look. "You shouldn't make jokes about it," George said stiffly. "It isn't funny."
"Alright, alright," Mitchell held up his hands, and changed the subject. "So where are you going to transform?"
George sighed and sat back on his heals, dropping the cloth back into the bucket. "I've found this wood," he said. "It's outside town, pretty isolated, should be quite safe."
"You're – planning to transform outside?" Mitchell said aghast.
George was confused. "I usually do," he pointed out.
"Yes, but George it's like minus seven out there at the moment," Mitchell glanced out of the window. A heavy frost hung on the trees and walls, while an uneven layer of ice had formed on the pavements, making walking a challenge at best. "You'll freeze to death."
George shrugged. "It'll be cold," he agreed. "But it's nothing I haven't faced before."
"Can't you change in here?" Mitchell suggested.
George's expression turned to one of horror. "No!" he all but shrieked. "It'll destroy the place!"
"Well we'll lock you in the bathroom or something."
"And you can afford a new bathroom suite can you?" George asked primly.
"You couldn't destroy a bathroom suite," Mitchell mocked.
"It took down three lampposts one night," George told him.
"Or maybe you could," Mitchell corrected himself. "Lampposts?"
"Mm," George went after the cloth again. "I read it in the paper a couple of days later. They had what one witness described as the appearance of having been chewed."
"Man," Mitchell was impressed. "Okay well, outdoors then. But you're still going to freeze when you wake up."
"I'll be fine."
"How about I come and find you in the morning? Bring you a warm drink or something. I think I've actually got a flask sitting around here somewhere," he looked around the high, dark blue walls of the kitchen, searching out shelves and the top of appliances for the elusive flask. He was sure one of his friends had left one after some party.
"No, thank you."
Mitchell shook his head. "You've really got to stop being so stubborn and let someone into your life for a change," he suggested. "It's lonely, and damned cold, being out on your own."
George continued to wash the floor, ignoring him as he inched his way further towards the door.
"Okay," Mitchell conceded, "I won't come and find you. But how about I wait for you somewhere, and you can come to me? Some car park or other. Should be fine as long as I don't get picked up for dogging."
George glanced up at that one to find Mitchell grinning again.
He sighed again. "Why not," he said.
"Cool," Mitchell nodded. "We'll fix time and place before you go out, and I'll be there."
"Fine," George said in reluctant agreement.
Mitchell grinned. "That's settled then," he said, turning to go.
"Mitchell," George stopped him.
"Yeah?" The vampire turned back to find George staring up at him intently.
"Thank you," he said.