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The Epic Loves of George Sands

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See, the thing is, George was prepared for only one epic love in his life.

After meeting Nina and the subsequent tears, rages, fantastic sex and mad fights, he had assumed that she was it.

Which meant that when his one epic gay love came along, he was extremely unprepared.

Personally, he blames the gloves.


He knows that he and Mitchell do not have a normal relationship. He's never going to admit it to Annie but he knows it.

He's never going to admit it to Annie. Even if when they get her back.

Some things are better left alone.

They're weird right now. Him and Mitchell. They don't quite look at each other but they do talk to each other. At each other.

It's weird. It's making Nina crazy. But George doesn't know how to stop.

Mitchell is just so. Mitchell. He's been there since things went crazy and he's going to be there forever and someday George is going to be in a box (if he's lucky) in the ground (if he's lucky) and no one is going to know but Mitchell. No one is going to care but Mitchell.

He hears a cup shatter on the ground, pieces of china flying everywhere and realizes he forgot all about Nina.

Just for a second.

That's when he knows he's totally fucked.


The thing is. Here's the thing. The thing is.

George needs Mitchell. He doesn't need Nina in the same way. Sam proved that.

Nina's wonderful and beautiful and mad and funny and her tongue feels amazing and she has fantastic breasts that curve against his palms so fucking perfectly that he gets hard as a rock just thinking about them.

The thing is. She isn't enough.

The thing is. He isn't mad at Mitchell. He won't think about the bodies, not because he doesn't want to think about what Mitchell's done.

But because he's very sure that once he thinks about it, once he really dwells on the matter and turns it upside down and shakes it until it all comes out, he won't.

Really care. He won't care.

And that is the most frightening thought of all.

Mitchell is his best friend. Right now he's George's only friend.

George doesn't know what to do with that.


The third day he stays in bed, whimpering into his pillow, Nina storms in and kicks his arse.


Mitchell has to separate them.

It'd be funny if he wasn't being beaten to death by the shortest woman in the world.

Mitchell drags her off and locks her in the bathroom. George can hear her screeching through the door.

It takes him a moment to realize that Mitchell is shaking with laughter.

He can't help but smile.

An hour passes before it's safe to let Nina out.

Two days pass before she talks to George again.

Mitchell laughs all day.

It seems worth it.


Nina figures it out surprisingly quickly. He's been subtle about it. He knows that. Mitchell is knee deep in self-immolation grease but he'd have figured it out.

She's surprisingly nice about it. Sort of.

Well, she's nice about it after she calls him a pillow biter for about two hours. In different variations and dialects.

He didn't know there were so many words for cock.

Losing her hurts just as much as it did the first time.

He isn't prepared for that.

Mitchell keeps asking what's wrong and even follows Nina out to the car after George has collapsed on the couch, worn out.

He can hear the quiet sound of their voices outside. He doesn't try to listen. He doesn't want to know.

He shuts his eyes when the car door slams shut.


Things get weird again once Nina leaves. Mitchell is broody. George wonders if he should buy Mitchell a good ol' flapping coat and introduce him to a blonde sixteen year old virgin called Buffy.

He's sure there's a God somewhere. He's also sure He's laughing pretty hard right now.

Mitchell doesn't ask what's wrong though. He just buys DVDs of The Real Hustle and New Who and talks about Donna's tits at great length.

George has never been so relieved.

He's kind of glad (in a sick, sick way) that Annie isn't around. She'd see right through him right now.


They get Annie back. Eventually. There's a lot of blood, pain and screaming involved and George ends up spending three days in the hospital at the end of it.

When he gets out, they drive him back to the house.

Someone has painted the outside a garish yellow.

He prefers not to ask.

He sits on the couch, carefully. He got an arrow in an unfortunate spot.

He prefers not to talk about it.

Annie is hovering, constantly. Mitchell is stretched out on their horrible red one-seater.

George really hates epic loves.

Annie leaves them alone and goes off to make tea or coffee or ovaltine. At this point, George has given up.

Mitchell cracks open one exhausted eye and gives him a small grin.

He's so stupidly happy, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Throwing up or dying both seem like valid life choices.

He's a werewolf. And in love with a male vampire.

Somewhere, EastEnders is exploding.


Fucking epic loves. Mitchell is out. Presumably on a date. Annie is off doing whatever ghosts do when they've returned from the other side. Probably lighting incense or dancing naked on the green.

That's more his thing though.

He falls asleep watching QI and wonders how Stephen Fucking Fry can be so fucking cheerful.

Clearly he's never been in love with his vampire roommate. Tends to harsh one's squee, that.

He wakes up with a throw over him. It takes him a moment to locate his glasses. Someone's folded them neatly and left them on the coffee table.

He finds Annie in the kitchen and shuffles her away from the stove, tuning out her chatter.

Mitchell wanders in around noon when George is doing the crossword and Annie is humming Rehab under her breath and annoying the crap out of him.

He smiles at George vaguely and his knuckles brush George's neck while he asks if George had any trouble finding his glasses.

George has trouble breathing for a moment. He looks up and Annie's watching him, eyebrows raised.

He is so fucked. He doesn't answer Mitchell, doesn't breath, tapping his foot against the floor, staring right back at Annie, watching her pick him apart.

She ends up looking at him with pity.

He decides to go for a run.


She tries to talk to him about it but he's a good dodger. She's a good ghost and she's persistent and well, annoying but he's been a werewolf for longer than she's been a ghost.

He doesn't come home for a few days, crashes on a bench in a park. It's not that cold.

When he's in the house, he stays around Mitchell. He knows she won't talk about it in front of him.

Mitchell seems to get that something weird is going on but he's smart enough to stay out of it.

Annie is an interfering little busybody but she won't tell Mitchell about it. She's not cruel.

Eventually he finds a note from her in his coat saying she won't ask him about it.

The next time he sees her he squeezes her hand. He's grateful.


Mitchell hugs him one night, a bad night, a crazy night. George is scratched and angry and there's blood everywhere and he doesn't know. He can't hate Mitchell or be afraid of him or do anything but. But.

And it's all so awful.

When Mitchell hugs him, it's all he can do not to cry. Not to hold on and just kiss the curve of Mitchell's jaw. Just once.

What harm could it do?

He doesn't.

George gets two epic loves in his life.

Neither of them last.