“What’s your boy up to?” Ben asks, loud in George’s ear where they’re sat in a booth to the side of the club floor.
George looks up, distracted from his conversation with Jonny. “What’s he doing now?” he asks fondly, searching Owen out on the floor - he’d been grinding on Elliot last time George had looked, much to Elliot’s delight.
Jonny laughs, clearly spotting Owen before George. “Looks like he’s got a suitor!” he cries.
And it does.
George sets his jaw as the stranger wrapped around Owen runs his hands down his chest.
Owen steps away, laughing good naturedly, but shaking his head.
It should make George feel better - but then, no. It’s not like he saw Owen dancing with a stranger and thought there was any danger to their relationship. It’s just that a voice in his head snarled had ‘mine’, hadn’t liked the intent of the hands on him.
The voice grumbles again as the guy slings his arm around Owen’s shoulder, pulling out his phone for a selfie.
Owen doesn’t look any happier about things, trying and failing to get another step away when the picture is done.
George looks at his half finished drink, then up at the floor.
He and Owen have joked around, before, about a degree of possessiveness. Owen has liked it, even, encouraged it. And Owen doesn’t seem to like the way this guy is talking, the way he’s trying - once again - to get his hands on Owen.
George downs his drink and stands.
“Ooh,” Ben calls. “Going to tell Faz off?” he asks.
George sends Ben a confused look. “He’s not doing anything wrong,” he points out, before stepping onto the floor with intent.
The guy probably isn’t doing anything technically wrong, either, George thinks as he makes his way through the mass of bodies towards Owen - just pushing his luck a bit. But Owen doesn’t like it, and George doesn’t like it - and George thinks Owen might like this.
George finally reaches Owen, swings an arm around his shoulder in greeting, ducking in to kiss his cheek. “Having fun love?” he asks, acting as if he hasn’t even seen the guy still standing in front of Owen.
Owen turns to George, grinning - he’s flushed, and just starting to sweat.
“So much, Georgie,” he tells George. “You come to join?” he asks, jokingly grinding towards him.
“Hey, are you -” the stranger interrupts. George would have thought he’d got the idea, but apparently not. “- George Ford? Are you George Ford? Mate, that’s so cool!”
“Thanks,” George says wryly, regretting the way he and Owen have been forced to turn away from each other, towards this guy, for politeness’ sake.
“Oh man, I can’t believe you guys are here! Can I get a picture, Fordy? Or maybe with both of you?”
“Sure,” George manages to force the bearing of his teeth to resemble a smile. He hooks an arm around Owen, pretending not to notice when the guy tries to get between the two of them. “Then we can dance,” he murmurs, into Owen’s ear, as the stranger fumbles with his phone.
“Looking forward to it,” Owen promises, smiling for the camera.
What the camera can’t see is Owen slipping his hand into George’s back pocket, squeezing gently. George feels his smile slip to a smirk - Owen absolutely knows why he’s here, and he’s happy to play along. Good.
“Awesome, thanks guys,” the stranger gushes.
George shifts his hold on Owen’s hips, slipping his fingers up below the hem of Owen’s shirt to rest on skin, drawing light circles to make Owen shiver.
“Look,” George interrupts, when the guy starts to go on. “I just want a night out with my boyfriend, mate - d’you get that?”
“Oh,” he blinks at the two of them, at George’s hand hidden by Owen’s shirt, the angle of Owen’s arm clearly leading to a hand on George’s arse. “Oh,” he repeats.
George and Owen aren’t hiding their relationship by any means, but they haven’t announced it either.
“Of, of course,” he stutters, eyes wide. “I - I’m sorry,” he’s addressing George, now. “If you saw, earlier - I didn’t know!”
Owen laughs gently, turning his back on the stranger and starting to dance.
George raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t worried,” he says, before turning the two of them through 90 degrees and focusing all his attention on Owen, bringing him close.
“Came over pretty quick for someone who wasn’t worried,” Owen teases, voice almost muffled in George’s neck.
George huffs. “Didn’t look like you were having the best time.”
“No,” Owen agrees, shifting back so they can look in each other’s eyes. “This is much better, thank you Georgie,” he blinks at George, overly innocent. “My knight in shining armour.”
George rolls his eyes. “I can leave you next time,” he offers.
“No,” Owen answers, too quickly to keep up the act. “Feel free to come stake your claim any time,” he says, sincere now, biting down on his bottom lip.
And that’s too much temptation for George, who’s been wanting to kiss Owen since he first saw foreign hands on him. He sweeps in, taking Owen’s lip in his own teeth, sweeping his tongue over it to sooth.
When they surface the stranger is nowhere to be seen, long forgotten by both of them.