gwendolyn vane. (gwrach) wrote in disorderic, @ 2017-09-03 18:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | barnaby snell, gwendolyn vane |
WHO: Baz Snell and Gwendolyn Vane
WHAT: Discussing appropriate bbq attire
WHERE: BGC flat
WHEN: Sunday 3rd September, afternoon
Four o’clock was steadily approaching. The “Please, Everyone, Let’s Pretend The World Isn’t Terrible” barbecue was this afternoon. The flat was spotless, the backyard decorated, and the food prep was almost done. Baz closed the refrigerator door with his hip as he balanced a towering stack of plates in his arms. He had donned a chef hat and “Kiss the Cook” apron for the occasion, though the only person around to appreciate it was Gwen, who didn’t seem to appreciate it very much. A flash of a smile crossed his face every time she rolled his eyes at him, and he told himself he would keep the kitschy apron on throughout the barbecue. “We’re all mature people, right?” he called out, dumping the plates on the kitchen counter and wiping his hands on his apron. He padded through the hallway and into the living room, where warm sunlight was angling in through the windows. Gwen was sitting on the sofa, Toby was asleep at her feet. Baz tilted his head to survey them both, then raked a hand through his hair. “I’m weighing the pros and cons of hanging up a ‘Please don’t snog in any of our bedrooms’ sign.” Turning slightly so she could see Baz properly, Gwen was careful not to move too much. She didn’t want to dislodge Toby or wake him up, not when he was stretched across her feet and the bottom of her legs, his head tucked behind her calves. The corner of her mouth curled into a smile as she wrinkled her nose. “You know, I don’t think that many people need to be told,” she said, laughter trailing after the words. “Although I think that Chelsea one would start in someone else’s room, if she was given the chance.” Her hand drifted to the top of Toby’s head and she scratched behind his ears. “You could just tell people not to get off in your room, if you want.” “Yeah, but signs make things more official,” Baz replied, sinking into an armchair. With an elbow propped up on the arm of the chair, his chin gravitated to the palm of his hand. The chef hat was balanced precariously on his head and looked on the verge of toppling over to the floor. After a moment’s pause, he continued, “Chelsea would snog in one of our rooms, wouldn’t she? Then claim innocence. And I’d probably believe her because, you know, she’s so…” He gave an idle wave of his hand. “Innocent looking.” “I believe every word she says,” Gwen said, strongly, still scratching behind Toby’s ears. In his sleep, he moved his head and made a low growl. She had to stifle a laugh, looking down at him, before turning her attention back to Baz. She didn’t stifle her laugh this time. “Your hat’s going to fall off and then no one will know you’re a chef when they come in, you know. It’s a very important accessory.” As if on cue, the hat tipped over and fell into Baz’s lap. He gave a delighted laugh as he picked up, slowly rotating it in his hands. “I’m glad you see things my way, G. But you know, the apron is more important than the hat.” Slipping the hat onto his hand as if it was a glove, he patted the words emblazoned on his chest with a wink. Gwen made sure to make eye contact before she very elaborately rolled her eyes. Years of practice stopped her from smiling and instead an expression found its way onto her face: firm and a little stern. “You know how I feel about people kissing around my food, so you’d better not much stock in that. I plan to eat four burgers and I want to keep to that.” “I wish I could eat four burgers,” he lamented with a heavy sigh. “Any more than three and I’ll ruin my girlish figure.” To emphasize his point, Baz traced the outline of a curvaceous figure in the air before clasping a hand to his chest. “And then I won’t be able to fit into the little black dress that shows off my legs.” Gwen didn’t try to contain her laughter, her eyes lighting up as she shook her head a couple of times. “That slinky number? You should break it out later tonight.” In his sleep, Toby made a grumbling noise and Gwen looked down at him and then back to Baz. “Even Toby agrees. He thinks it’d be good entertainment for our guests. In keeping with the have fun and be merry theme!” She leaned slightly forward, eyes wide, imploring Baz to go along. It was very important, her expression seemed to say. “The slinky number with the slit that goes up to here,” Baz grinned, tapping a spot on his upper thigh. “I thought it might be too forward for a casual barbecue, but if Toby thinks I should wear it, then I suppose I must.” Toby, as if he could sense he was being talked about, growled again, his tail wagging against Gwendolyn’s foot. “I think I’ll probably have to borrow some heels, though. That way I can really show off the ol’ stems.” Baz, who was determined to play along with a joke until it was long dead, reached down to pull one of his trouser legs up and let out a low wolf whistle. Laughter tumbled out of Gwen, loud enough that Toby stirred, but she kept laughing, eventually echoing Baz’s whistle with one of her own. “I always forget what great legs you have until you insist on whistling at yourself,” she said, hand brushing over Toby’s fur as he shifted. His ears perked up and he lifted his head, looking over at Baz, and jumping down from beside her to pad over. Gwen watched the two boys for a moment, affection and warmth in her chest. It was a nice change from other, recent events so she let herself have it, reaching over the side of the sofa to pick up a glass and take a sip of water. “I’ll let you have an old pair of heels if Toby’s gonna like you that much while you’re in them.” “You’re a true friend, G.” Baz scooped Toby up in his arms and deposited him in his lap, crushing the chef hat. He scratched the underside of the dog’s chin as he smiled down at him, content and untroubled. Toby gratefully licked the palm of Baz’s hand, then attempted to trot around in a circle before making himself comfortable. Baz leveled a look at Gwen as he leaned back in the chair, drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair. “Do you think people will have fun?” he asked, brows knit in concern. “I’m willing to wear a slinky dress and heels if it helps people, you know, not think about things.” There was only a brief moment of pause during which it looked like Gwen took a second to consider the question. Her reply was firm and sure. “People are going to have fun. We’re great hosts. We even cleaned the bin for this.” Gwen felt like her tone conveyed the sheer importance of this mutual decision, but she fell silent a moment later, lifting her thumb to her mouth and placing her nail in it. She didn’t bite it, but rather worried at the corner of her nail. “They’re gonna have fun. You will too, right?” she asked, more casually than it sounded in her head. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how many of her friends had muggleborn relatives, about what they were going to do, about how some of them would disappear by choice (like her aunt, apparently) or by force. It sat uncomfortably around her. “Yeah, of course,” was Baz’s immediate reply, instinctively offering Gwen his most cheerful smile. He hated for people to fret over him, and he was long accustomed to prevaricating and bullshitting his way around questions that were too similar to Are you okay? He was okay. His parents were okay. Everything was going to be okay. (At the very least, everything was going to be okay for the duration of the barbecue.) His smile turned thoughtful. In a tone that matched Gwen’s casualness, Baz asked, “Heard anything from Romilda yet?” Gwen looked away, gaze straying to the corner of the room, and then back again. “Yeah,” she said, with a rough laugh. “She sent me this really long screed that was incredibly dramatic. Honestly, I’m waiting for a howler from her one day so she can just scream everything that’s bothering her.” Lifting a hand, Gwen tugged at the hair over her ear, arranging it slightly better. “She hates Snape, though, so that’s going to be wonderful.” There was a slight pause as Gwen shifted in her seat and then sighed before saying, “I’m going to tell her to be careful and keep her head down.” “Sound advice,” Baz said, nodding. “Who can blame her for hating Snape? The man’s the worst professor at Hogwarts and now he’s Headmaster? It’s shit.” Snape’s ascension to the top position at Hogwarts only gave weight to the rumors surrounding his affiliation, too. But ‘Death Eater’ was not a term Baz wanted to mention today. “At least you don’t have to worry about her getting wrapped up with Undesirable #1 like your cousin.” Gwen groaned and dropped her head onto the back of the sofa. “He won’t be there to teach her ridiculously complicated charms. Though I bet she’d like that — she had such a crush. Which Angelina says she doesn’t.” Gwen believed her, too, but it was strange to think of Harry Potter, current enemy of the government, teaching her cousin a patronus. Every time she thought about it Gwen couldn’t stop a hundred questions popping into her head, questions that she couldn’t get any real answers to. “As long as people don’t start making I love Harry Potter posters on me it should be fine.” “I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Baz said, lowering his eyes, “but I fancy him, too. I’ve a shrine made out of his used bubblegum in my closet.” Her nose wrinkling, Gwen made several retching noises. Her hands flew to her ears, covering them, as she shook her head. “That’s too much for me to hear right now,” she said, loudly. “Keep your gross shrines to yourself, B.” “He may be Undesirable #1 to Umbridge,” Baz proclaimed loudly, so Gwen could hear him, “but he’s Desirable #1 to me… no, I can’t keep this up. I think they’re ten years younger than us?” His mouth twisted into a vague frown. “No one that young should have to worry about the fate of the world.” “If you were suddenly into Harry Potter, I would have a lot to say about it,” Gwen said, taking her hands off her ears. There was no point, especially not if some people were going to practically shout at her. Shaking her head again, Gwen bit the inside of her lip and tried hard not to think too much about what she’d been like at Harry’s age, about how she’d never had to deal with being a governmental enemy who apparently was out fighting Death Eaters. She’d had a tough enough time fighting with her mum. “We shouldn’t have to worry about the fate of the world either,” she murmured, examining her nails. An uneasy expression flickered over Baz’s face. His eyes dropped down to Toby, who had fallen asleep in his lap, and he absentmindedly scratched behind the dog’s ear as he considered his next words. “Who’s worried?” he said after a moment, arching an eyebrow. “I’ve never worried about a thing in my life. Worrying is for the birds, G.” “You’ve got pretty obvious worry lines there for someone who never worries,” Gwen said, her eyebrows raised towards her forehead. “What?” Baz reached for his face, feeling around the corners of his eyes for any obvious signs of wrinkles. “What worry lines? My face is as smooth as a, you know, a smooth thing.” “Those massive ones right around your mouth, too. It’s really distracting when someone has to look at you.” Gwen tutted and shook her head, smothering a smile at the corners of her mouth. “Oh, fuck off,” Baz said with a vague wave of his hand, but there was no venom to the words. He gave Gwen an appraising look, then narrowed his eyes. “You have more wrinkles than my nan, you know.” Letting out a loud fake gasp, Gwen held her hand to her chest. “You’ve wounded me!” she said, in her best overdramatic Gothic heroine impression. “I’m bleeding. It’s a metaphor, but I’m bleeding. What a mess!” She shook her hands out, as if they were sopping with fake blood, and stood. “I hope you’ve got a clean up crew on speed dial for this.” “Chelsea’s the one who implemented the chore wheel,” Baz replied, very seriously. A now alert Toby hopped down from Baz’s lap to trot over to Gwen. “It’ll have to be her.” Gwen’s laughter filled the living room as she headed towards her the back of the apartment and her bedroom. “I’ll go tell her you volunteered her now.” |