Chelsea was not dumb and no girl you could easily persuade to spend the night with you and of course George would love the thought of it, he still saw himself as her best friend and so he had some responsibility to make her feel good. Which seemingly worked as Chelsea slowly thawed up. It was true, Chelsea was the caricature of a true northern person but she was'nt out of stone. There was much more behind her that people would see at first glance when she stepped into the ring. He felt her hands softly taking his and smiled pulling her a little closer. "Look, Chelsea, you are no bad person, don't ever let people tell you that. You just have your own way to get to things in life. There is nothing wrong with that, but it sure can rub people the wrong way. And you know what? Who cares? Now you have lost against this boring bunch of candyshop leftovers. The next chance will come.", he said when the song started to play.
George smiled as Chelsea allowed him to go forward, usually and maybe with less alcohol in their systems she would have straight out punched him, but Chelsea had had her own share of drinks and also was in a very fragile state. She needed comfort and she needed...love. Be it the love of a good friend or the romantic one. George took either way, because he loved Chelsea. With all his heart. Usually he was quick to admit such things and was never shy but here he felt like a schoolboy. Spoiler
I give her all my love
That's all I do
And if you saw my love
You'd love her too
I love her
There were'nt many people in the pub, only a few barflies who came almost daily, so they had the dancefloor for themselve as the two brits slowly started to move, being close to each other, Chelseas head on George chest while his right hand guided her and the left one was wrapped around her midsection, tight like a hug. "They don't get people like us Chelsea. We are a special kind that is much more intresting then them. We are better then this cabbages. I know you are hurt but there comes another day for you to shine and oh shine you will my little bird.And Iwill by your side to help you, big promise.", he smiled as they danced to the slow song, holding each others close.
She gives my everything
And tenderly
The kiss my lover brings
She brings to me
And I love her
A love like ours
Could never die
As long as I
Have you near me
They did'nt speak for a while before George took his hand and lifted Chelseas chin, making her look at him. "Feeling better?", he smiled as they slowly danced on, it was as if they had studied it and Chelsea seemed to be a natural learner. He saw her face close before his own and smiled as his hand moved from her chin to cup her cheek and softly stroking it with his thumb. Meanwhile the Beatles softly went on to sing their ballad.
Bright are the stars that shine
Dark is the sky
I know this love of mine
Will never die
And I love her
Bright are the stars that shine
Dark is the sky
I know this love of mine
Will never die
And I love her
"Mm..." Chelsea listened closely to what George had to say. Though she glanced away, unwilling to look him in the eye, she still let the thought linger in her head. It wasn't often she allowed herself to be this vulnerable, or was willing to open up around others. But she had no other options - and when she was desperate enough, she was even willing to listen to George. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps another opportunity would come her way - and until then, she just needed to wait for it. She blushed ever so slightly and glanced off again as her gaze wandered back towad him. Perhaps she would rather hear this sort of advice coming from anyone else, perhaps she wished she wasn't in public where everyone could see her showing such weakness. But right now, it didn't matter. She would take what she could get.
She rose from her seat, taking George by the hands as he guided her through the steps. He slowly swayed from side to side, and Chelsea, in turn, pulled closer, resting against his body. Her cheeks flushed hot when she thought of how close they were, and when she heard the lyrics, she couldn't help but wonder if there was a reason he had picked this song - was he trying to tell her something? Was this what he thought of her? Her blush deepened, and yet, no matter how much she would normally have issued a rebuttal, she knew that this wasn't the time. She wouldn't admit it, but she needed this. And she was happy to have it.
She listened to George's words, and she nodded her head ever so slightly. She didn't say a word, because she knew that everything he had said summed it up so succinctly she couldn't think of anything she could add. She was hurt, as much as she wanted to be the tough girl who wouldn't be slowed down by such things. Deep down, all she wanted to be was to be accepted. But...in George, she had found that. At last, she had someone who accepted her. Someone who wanted the best for her. George wanted to see her succeed, and to reach all the dreams she had her sights on. And he wanted to do what he could to help get her there. He was more, she realized, than anyone she'd ever had before. As tightly pressed as they were, George could feel a tear run down her cheek, dampening his shirt. Chelsea would never show that to anyone - but there was no way to hide it now.
At last, Chelsea felt her chin raised, and she looked into George's eye. Her own blue eyes watered over with tears, and for a moment, she wanted to pull away, to hide, to make sure no one could see her in such a state, where she was showing her heart, soft and unprotected, to the world. But she couldn't. She didn't want to do that to George. After all he had done for her, even in such a short time, she couldn't bring herself to turn her back on him like this. Slowly, the look on her face softened, and a smile came to her face, as she continued through the motions of the dance. She grew in confidence - she wasn't afraid to be honest about it any more. She brought her hand up and rested it on George's shoulder, grasping it gently in her fingers, as she leaned in closer, letting his motions guide her as she swayed back and forth. George had done so much for her, and she wanted to thank him for that, in any way she could.
"Yeah..." she whispered to him, "yeah, I am. Thanks, George...I know I've never said that before, but...I think I really did need this..."
George, calculating and manipulating as he usually could be with beautiful women was in fact being as honest as he ever thought he could be. He loved Chelsea. He knew it. And as tempting and also as easy as it would be to use her current state of confusion and sadness to get into her panties, he did'nt force it. The Eastender told her those things because he deeply cared for her, the played the Beatles because they were her favourite band and even when he hugged her and invited her for a dance it was entirely to flirt. George just wanted Chelsea to feel better.
George Fortunato never saw himself as bad person, of course he had ties to various mafias around the world but that was all about gambling. No murders, no drugs, no smuggling or anything. George just lived in the twilight of this world, between light and darkness and cherypicked what was necessary and best for him. Of course he also was a giant pervert, holding not just pit fights but also all kind of skimpy oil and mud matches in his establishment, particulary because he loved them and in case of women he was a notorious lier and heartbreaker, using every trick in the book to sleep with every beautiful lady he set his sights on. And if George had anything to say about it, it would have remained this way. And then he met Chelsea Forster.
She came into his establishment to check out this pub that was something a of a secret tip between british and european wrestlers in general. Something that made them feel at home even if they were thousand miles away. George took care to make the illusion complete, the Wolf and the Bunny was a beautiful, old fashioned pub, there was live music, there were ales, fish and chips, it was all just perfect. At first Chelsea was a little shy, not in the mood to talk, seemingly a bit annoyed by the chatty owner of the bar who immediatly had thrown an eye on her when she entered. But with time they both became closer. George was still flirty but when the situation called for it he could be calm and collected, listening to Chelsea whenever she had victory or more likely, as hard as it was for the British Bunny, her losses. Many of them avoidable of course, but George was the last person to give someone tips on how to wrestle.
He knew Chelsea and he knew what was inside her. An easily breakable heart, lots and lots of insecurity and the fear of being a nothing. When she announced the deciding match against the Carnival Girls she had involved George, she was very proud, knowing that this was her chance for a big break, getting the attention she deserved. Only for it to slip through her fingers in the last minute. Now it was for George to pick up the pieces and throw them into the trash. Chelsea needed someone to hold her, George would be this person, in fact he would'nt allow anyone else to be this person to Chelsea anyway, except for Molly. But he knew that even if Chelsea and Molly deeply cared for each other, something that Chelsea had said was right. They were sisters and even if they were close, they were really different and at the end of the day, they HAD to love each other. It was'nt like Molly appeared and decided to like Chelsea. They were family, they were expected to do so. But George loved Chelsea with all her strengths and flaws. He loved his friend when she was mad, when she lashed out, but also in this tender moments. Sometimes his friend reminded him of an alleycat. Rather agressive, always ready for a fight but also sweet and in need of some love when it was necessary.
The song played and George held Chelsea close, he felt his shirt getting wet but he did'nt care. She should cry. She should let it all out. When she looked up to him, confirming that she indeed felt better he smiled and softly pulled his head downward, kissing Chelsea in the spot between her big blue eyes while they slowly turned around each other to the music. They looked deep into each others eyes, their faces only a few inches from each other, their bodies filled with alcohol, their souls laid bare. Everything seemed to be in perfect place for a kiss and indeed their faces came close to each other...
And with that, the song ended and the next one started, a personal favourite of George but also a little suggestive, given the situation they were in.
She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah
She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah
She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
George and Chelsea immediatly jumped not just because the song started rather loud an abruptly but also because of the lyrics. They looked at each other again and for the first time ever it seemed that George Fortunato was blushing. Also the pub was filling by now and some of the customers already had their sights on him and Chelsea being so close on the dancefloor.
"Uhm...well, it gets a little crowdy here don't you think? Wanna go upstairs and have another drink?"
It would'nt be the first time Chelsea saw George flat that was located directly over the pub,more then once they had spent nights there listening to music, drinking and chatting. What would go down this time...nobody knew. Maybe they both knew, in fact, George was sure what he wanted, even when he was intoxicated. And if Chelsea said yes, being drunk or not, he knew that she also knew what would be going on if they separated themselves for the private parts of the house...
Chelsea liked to show the world how tough she was. She drank, she brawled, she wasn't afraid to speak her mind, and she wouldn't let anyone get in her way of doing any such things. Ever since she was young, it was all she knew. But so too did she know her reasons for doing such things - she was this way because she felt she had to be. She'd been met with plenty of heartbreak in her life. The people around her never understood her. They feared her when she wasn't willing to get close to them. And soon, Chelsea realized, if they were going to act that way, she didn't need them anyway. If they wanted her to be a monster, a brute, a threat, then she'd give them that - it wasn't like it would change anything, and at least she'd be able to shrug it all off when she put up those walls to protect her! Even when they pushed her away more and more, she didn't care. The world was a rough, cruel place. Life wasn't fair. And if it was going to be that way, she was going to have to be just as rough, cruel, and unfair if she wanted to survive.
But if there was anyone she felt like she didn't need to show all that to, it would have to be George. She couldn't quite put a finger on why, but he understood her. Even if they hailed from the same country, they were from entirely different sides of it, and each with their own thoughts on the other. His personality was obnoxious and only tolerable if he was pouring her drinks. But despite it all, he did offer Chelsea one thing: someone to talk to. Someone to understand. He would listen to her problems, and she could count on him to never judge, or to brush her off as lashing out at the world when she didn't know how to deal with it. He was willing to sit there with her, listening to her gripe about her annoyances and celebrating the successes. In time, she realized, George was the kind of person she had needed all along. And right now...she needed him more than ever.
As the music died down, Chelsea nestled closer to his chest, her face pressed into the fabric of his shirt and her weight resting against his own. For the first time in some time, Chelsea felt appreciated in someone else's eyes. She felt like she had someone who cared for her. Someone she could be thankful for. Perhaps, even, someone she-
Her thoughts were soon interrupted by the blaring voice of Paul McCartney, and at once her eyes went wide and her face red. The ill-timing of the song wasn't lost on her, and she jumped back from George's arms, looking around her in stunned silence at the several stares she had garnered. All of a sudden, she was out of her inner thoughts and back in the real world - and she was all too sure of what everyone was thinking. Balling her fists and planting them on her hips, she spun around to shoot a glare at a few patrons. "Wha'!? Wha' ay yous lewkin' at? Mind yer own business, goddammit!"
She huffed and crossed her arms as she turned back to George, biting at her lip, though her cheeks were still tinged a faint red. When George began speaking, Chelsea never looked directly at him, instead staring off into the distance out of the corner of her eye. It was as though she didn't want to look at him face to face, as though she was afraid of what she'd find there. But soon her eyes wandered over to him, and she paused as she considered his offer. She certainly wouldn't mind having some time away from so many prying eyes if she was going to have a moment, and she didn't need anyone to judge her. But the implications of his offer weren't lost on her, and she blushed a little deeper at the thought.
Still...Chelsea thought back to what she had felt in his arms. How welcomed, how recognized, how loved she had felt - like she rarely had before, and like she didn't know how often she would get since. Perhaps it was the beer clouding her judgment, or making her that much weepier, but...she realized she hadn't had enough of that feeling just yet. After that last match, she needed it. Just this once, to make her feel a little bit better about herself.
Chelsea turned back to George, her face still red, but her features nonetheless softened ever so slightly as they met his. "Yeah...yeah, sounds good ter me, like. Let's go."
George knew the CD and the order of songs on it by heart, how could he forget which song was about to come next? Sure it was one of his favourites but after a soft ballad like "And I love her", this was't exactly something that would further the mood. In fact, George and Chelsea were hit with buckets of icecold water when they realized in which situation they were. George had never thought that Chelsea would ever allow him to be this close to her but here they were standing, a blush on each of their faces. The Cockney Flame, who was a notorious flirter and a picture of selfassurance was now looking away as was Chelsea, still they remained close. They both feared that this sudden burst back into reality would have destroyed everything that had built up to this.
George heard Chelsea lashing out on the patrons and smiled. Yes, this was his Chelsea, little Chelsea from the north. George was a southerner and not even onehundred percent englishman. Even if they came from the same country their should have been many factors that set them apart but it seemed that the two of them just found each other. Deep down in their hearts, every englishman, from every corner of the country was defined by the strict english class system. And even if Chelseas family was a step higher in class then George, Chelsea had decided for herself that hitting pubs, playing pool and darts, drink, be merry and brawl, was more her style then some uppity tea parties or anything. And George respected that, no, he loved it. Chelsea was something like a princess to him, born into a higher class, outside of George reach, but decided to climb down the ladder on her own.
And now they stood there in the middle of George pub, Chelsea needing a shoulder to lean on and the Eastender providing it. Chelsea did'nt need any lessons, she did'nt need endless discussions of what went wrong, where it went wrong or anything. Chelsea, under all her brootish demeanor needed someone to love her now. And again, George provided. He never asked questions, he listened, he made jokes about some of Chelseas opponents and he took Chelseas frustration. Often enough an unwise word or a bad joke earned him a slap or a punch. It was like that. Chelsea had'nt learned to deal with the world otherwise, but he knew that this was'nt all that Chelsea had to offer. Her opponents and the crowd only saw the brutal, sadistic girl that loved to give pain to others and cheat where she could. And of course, Chelsea could'nt possibly hope to make friends with this attitude, but the fact was, that she had given up on this a while ago. If the world would only accept her when she was feared, then she wanted it to be like that.
But when George appeared, so many things had changed, in both of their lifes. The Londoner was sure, since he first laid eyes on her, that Chelsea was the one, the only one he wanted to be together with. At first he tried it with blatant flirting which did'nt end very well, but after time they found some other things in each other. The love for football, the love for drinks, pool and other stuff. Chelsea visited often and they never ran out of material to chat about. It went so far that George was missing something when Chelsea had a fight or simply could'nt come to their daily talk. And now they were here, holding each other tight. The Londoner caught Chelseas tears with his shirt, holding her, being there for her and Chelsea let lose.
When it became obvious that the pub was'nt the right place for further interactions, George suggested to go up into the first floor where his flat was located. George had'nt bought a building in Tokyo but rather built up the place from scratch, making it look and feel like a true english pub, for everyone who wanted a little taste of europe, so far away from home.
"Alrigh', 'hen le''s go upstairs...", he smiled and took Chelseas hand before looking to his waitress. "You manage everything here, darling?", he asked and the waitress just nodding with a sly smile. "It's alright Boss. Have a good night. I close the doors when I go.", she said with a wink and George nodded. "Good Girl, you know, why have'nt I give you a raise yet?" "Because I refused to participate in your sleazy mud wrestling stuff!", she answered with chuckle. "Ah, yes, of course. Well then, good night.", he said and opened the door in the hallway that led to a flight of stairs going up to the next floor. Chelsea of course had been here too but this time it was something else. This time it was'nt entirely clear what would go down and George heart, usually calm and collected, beat loud and hard in his chest.
They approached a big room and if someone had'nt known that he was in Tokyo, he could have thought he was in the middle of London right now.
George had taken care to make everything look like at home, from the fireplace, to the cozy chairs, everything here seemed like a typical british household. "I be', you are 'ungry swee'hear', si' down i make you some'hin.", George said and lead Chelsea to the dinnertable in the corner of the kitchen. The excentric pubowner slipped into an apron that showed the union jack and went to work. Even if he was a proud englishman, he preferred the italian cuisine. He put up some hot water and grabbed some spices and soon the entire room was filled with a delicious smell, composed of all kinds of mediterran spices.
The shifting of the music had caused everything to grind to a halt. A moment ago, Chelsea felt safe opening her heart, alone with someone she knew wouldn't judge her - someone who knew her well, could recognize every little twist and turn of her tumultuous emotions, and who wouldn't ever see her as any less for any of them, not like others in her life might have. Even if she was in the middle of a crowded bar room, what passed between her and George was personal enough, intimate enough, for her to forget about all that, and to feel like it truly was just the two of them. But in just a few seconds, she was reminded of exactly where she was, how many people were watching her, and what was on each and every one of their minds.
Her face turned beet red, and her back stiffened as she straightened her stance. Biting at the inside of her cheek, Chelsea realized that she would be willing to go along with George's silly schemes, no matter how much she would ordinarily scoff at them, as long as it got her away from here. That's what she told herself, anyway. But deep down, she couldn't deny there was something else at stake. She was curious, too - maybe her recent defeat, or all the beer she'd imbibed, was making her a little more emotional, or maybe she was just desperate, but she wanted to go along with George, and to see what might have been up his sleeve; it just might be what she needed. Even when she snickered a little at the waitress's comments - she knew George all too well, it seemed - Chelsea's heart was beating just as fast and as hard as he guided her up the stairs.
As soon as she stepped into the living room, Chelsea let out a sigh. Her shoulders slumped down a little, and a smile came to her face, as though the change of scenery was enough to let the tension out of her body. Just being here made her feel at home - even if George's homeland was far from her own, what brought them together now was that they were both strangers in a strange land, and in each others' company, they could at least find a little island of familiarity, one where they could put all their cares and worries behind them.
But what Chelsea hadn't expected was for George to offer to cook dinner for her, too. As he led her toward the table, she slowed to a halt; a blush came to her cheeks. "Beg ye pardi?" she said - but it wouldn't slow George down; he was already off to work in preparing a meal. She hadn't expected to be treated to an entire dinner service - was this his way of asking her out? Was this supposed to be like a date? She'd never agreed to such a thing!
But even still, she breathed in the scents that wafted through the air, and again she felt her body ease and her smile widen. She couldn't stay upset for long - it was a more generous offer than anyone had shown her in a long while, she realized. And, the more she thought about it, the more she could feel her own stomach rumble. Had she gotten so caught up in everything that she'd forgotten how hungry she was?
Shrugging her shoulders, Chelsea settled into her seat, taking a napkin and folding it over her lap before she slouched over the table with her head in her hands. "Was' fe scran, anyroad?" she asked, curious what George was cooking.
George had taken Chelseas hand in his and without hesitation the englishwoman had followed him. Yes it was true, she was a northerner and he was from the south but they shared the same culture, the same heritage. They could be each others home in this strange far away country.
Chelsea, despite her brootish and brash behaviour was, like her sister, a real pretty woman that immediatly had gotten George attention. But what really made him fall in love was her attitude, she was not like other girls. Chelsea tried to be hard when inside George could see the beautiful girl that called for love and attention and tonight he decided it would be all about Chelsea.
George put on the apron and got to work, his movements fast and precise. "Oh, no'hin 'oo fancy, spaghe''i aglio e olio wi'h prawns. 'ope you are 'ungry, darlin.",he said while peeling some cloves of garlic for the meal. "As proud a bri' as i am, i 'hink 'he i'alian cuisine offers a li''le mawe flavaw."
Soon the noodles were added to the boiling water while the scent of Garlic, prawns and oliveoil filled the air.
He turned over to Chelsea who gave him a curious look and looked back at her." Learned 'ha' from my nana. I would cook mawe ov'en faw you if you like.", the Eastender with this pastellhair said.
Then he looked outside. It was a dreary day, the winter had come back to strike one last time and the wind howled through the branches of naked trees.
"ey, why don'' you stay overnigh'? don'' wawry, no 'ricks, i Bo Peep in 'he guestbed. Bu' 'onigh' you don'' even chase a dog ou'. Le's ea' an' 'hen ge' a li''le comfaw'able, 'm?, he asked with a smile.
"We can wa'ch coun' duckula.", he chuckled as he knew that Chelsea, of course no one except George knew, had some fondness for old british cartoons, as did George himself.
"Come on, i' is'n' like you 'ave some'hin be''er 'o do, 'm?"
"I..." Chelsea was about to say something to George at his description of his cooking, only for a louder rumbling to rise from her stomach. She blushed harder, biting at her lip and shrinking back in her seat. She was someone who always wanted to call the shots, and now she couldn't even keep her own body under control. She didn't want to give George any of the wrong impressions, no less to let him think she actually liked him or anything. But...right now, she couldn't deny it. She was hungry, and the thought of spaghetti aglio with prawns was making her mouth water. At last, realizing there was no use in hiding it any longer, she scooted closer to the table. "Sounds...delicious, actually. I should thank ye fe this one..."
Chelsea shuffled a little in her seat, trying to avert her gaze. It seemed ridiculous - was she really going to let George serenade her and treat her to a meal, like this was some big, romantic gesture? That wasn't how she did things at all; she only barely tolerated his company in the first place, just as long as she could have someone she could talk to who didn't make her feel completely lost in the world! But...at the same time, the thought of his cooking was intriguing to her, and from the smell wafting through the room alone, she was getting more and more excited to try what he had to offer. Besides, it would beat surviving on takeout fried chicken like she'd been doing. Her expression softened a little bit - and when she felt it do so, she turned off toward the window, not wanting to afford him a passing glance at her face. "You'd really be willin' ter do dat, 'uh? I suppose...I wuddun mind, really..."
With her eyes directed out the window, Chelsea could see the cold night outside, the branches on the trees shaking as a torrent of air blew through them. She could see as much as anyone that it was no night she would want to be out walking alone - but even still, her face lit up even brighter when George offered to let her stay the night here. "W-WHAAAT!?" She practically gasped, jumping up in her seat. Her teeth clenched into a grimace just thinking about it. It had to be the most obvious pass at her that she had ever seen before - was he truly foolish enough to think she'd fall for that one?! She pulled her arms a little closer to herself, turning away from him...
But...at the same time...she couldn't be mad. It was an awfully generous offer for him, and, as another harsh wind billowed past the windows, Chelsea hugged her arms closer to herself as though bracing herself against its chill, even if she was inside and safe from it. Compared to that, staying indoors for the night seemed far preferrable. And she had known George for long enough to know that - while he may have been a lech and an idiot - he still fancied himself a gentleman, and he always held to his word. She trusted him, and she saw no reason to be suspicious when he stated he'd be in the guest room.
She even blushed a little, smiling wider as George brought up her love of old British cartoons - something she had confided in him during one of their talks a while back. "You...remembered, huh..." she began, looking back toward him with a growing smile. The harsh tones in her voice softened, and the look in her eyes as she glanced into his own was softer, calmer, practically angelic even. It was a side of Chelsea she never showed to anyone, but perhaps around George, she could let her guard down a little...
"I...really don't have anywhere better to go, nah..."
George smiled softly when Chelsea blushed. He put the spaghetti in a bowl and hit them with cold water before serving dinner. "Of course I would.", he said and his friendly voice put off the cockney a bit, everytime George was serious.
"You are my best friend Darling. Here in this country I can't count on anyone but you to make me feel at home.", he said when they started eating. "Besides, I know what you are eating and I think something healthier here and there would be no mistake.", the Londoner teased his friend. "So yes, I, the great and talented George Fortunato myself will see that you always have a nice warm dinner. That means of course you would have to come more often...we have no delivery service.", he quipped.
Then he shook his head. Today was all about Chelsea, he would not talk about winning, losing or wrestling. He would talk about Chelsea. The only girl that mattered to him.
" Don't. ", he said and sighed. That poor girl was so unaccustomed to getting good things that she did'nt even know what to say to mundane stuff like a dinner. "Don't thank me for that Chels. Friends do things because they want to and not because they want something in return.", he said and when Chelsea smiled, a smile came on George features too. "Well, well, well what have we here? Is this the most beautiful girl in all of northern england sitting on my table?", George smiled and brushed the bangs out of Chelseas face, looking at her angelic features. "You know, if you would smile more often, people would see what I see in you, little angel. ", the handsome Londoner smiled.
When he saw her smiling he chuckled. "Of course I remember, how could I not? Count Duckula is a national treasure like Danger Mouse! Also I would never forget something coming out of this sweet mouth... ", he laughed before a blush crept over his face.
Damn, what did Chelsea do to him, he never was this akward when flirting...
They ate in silence, both a little shy of eyecontact." So, you stay? I have enough Ale for us and can make popcorn if you like. I get you one of my shirts.", he said and got up. George was two heads bigger then Chelsea and a T Shirt of him could fit as a nightgown for Chelsea.
George just wanted it to be perfect for her. Even if nothing happened, he would be the happiest guy on earth. Usually of there was no sign of sex in sight he managed to get the ladies out but Chelsea he just wanted around. Even if they only watched old cartoons...
Most times, George's boasts would only cause Chelsea to roll her eyes. He always talked himself up more than he had any reason to, and he never seemed to get the hint, even when she brushed him off - or, on nights where she had been particularly drunk and in no mood to play along, when she yelled in his face. But now, she couldn't help but smile a little as a blush tickled her cheeks, even if she glanced down and scooted back in her chair to hide it from him. She couldn't deny it; an offer like this was awfully thoughtful of him, and when no one else seemed to care, she was drawn to it all the more. She didn't know anyone else who was willing to cook dinner for her like this, and she could think of even less that she thought should.
Of course, Chelsea didn't want him to see it. The last thing she needed was for anyone to think that she had gone soft, or that she was actually feeling anything toward this buffoon, even if she might have appreciated a warm meal and a bed to sleep in. But he saw it nonetheless - and when he pointed it out, Chelsea went from blushing lightly to lighting up like a tomato. "B-B-Beautiful..!" she stammered, covering her face in her hands. "Ye dun need ter go 'round flatterin' me er anythin'-! An' I am no one's little angel!" She trembled for a moment, too embarrassed to know how to proceed; even if there was no one around to see her but George, it was out of instinct that her defensive instincts kicked in and she tried to shutter her soft underbelly away from the world, like she'd done so many times before just to get through her life.
Still, a moment later, she spread her fingers enough to peer out with one eye, seeing George was still sitting there across the table - and the aromas wafting from the dish in front of her just made her mouth water even more when they hit her nose, stirring another rumble from her stomach. She wasn't going to get this anywhere else, she thought, so for now, she might as well play along...
"...'cept maybe Mum's..." Chelsea muttered to herself, hoping her voice was soft enough to fly under George's radar as she lowered her hands from her face. She reached for her fork, setting to her dish. The Englishwoman didn't say much as she ate, and she was content to pass the time in her own little world - but she had to admit, George was a good cook. The care with which he had prepared their meal was evident; the way the spices blended together perfectly into a concoction of flavors captivated her far more than any cheap plate of spaghetti Chelsea had ever gotten from a hole-in-the-wall restaurant in between bars. He had made sure to put in his best effort - for her. He cared about her. And as a forkful of spaghetti landed in her stomach, she felt its warmth radiate outward through her body, soothing the aches she still felt in her bones when she thought back on her last match. Maybe...she would have to do this more often...
At the same time, though, Chelsea sighed. George could doubtlessly feel the aura of melancholy radiating off of her as she ate; her eyes were glazed and looking off, her head tilted down, and her shoulders sagging. Each breath she let out was long and heavy. Chelsea wasn't used to this - being welcomed so warmly, being treated to a fine meal. But she felt like it shouldn't have been happening. George was being such a gentleman to her, and it was only at the time when she felt she deserved it the least - that no one would ever want to care about her.
At last, Chelsea finished, setting her fork on her plate and pushing it aside. "Dat...wuz good. Thanks..." She glanced back up at George with the slightest hint of a smile, though she quickly bit at the inside of her cheek to silence it. She got up, too, taking the plates over to the sink. "'Ere, I'll get it," she muttered, only to stop a moment later when she realized what she was doing. Was she offering to help? Like they were some kind of married couple?
Either way, Chelsea cleared her throat, turning back toward George. When he offered to get popcorn going, she chuckled a little, flashing him a smirk and a nod. Being treated to a fancy dinner might not exactly have been Chelsea's element, but this was something she could get behind. "Oh, yeah. I'll stay. Show me whuz de WC is so I can get changed, like?"
