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Tweak says, "I'm sorry, Chocolates!"

bl_collin (bl_collin) wrote in bloodlines_rp,
@ 2017-08-02 22:04:00

Entry tags:

!retcon, collin haussler (oc), dec 2002, loc: falcons team flats, loc: london, nicholas fleming (npc), oliver wood, type: rp

Awful Truth
Date & Time: Saturday, 28 December 2002 | Evening
Post Type: RP
Status: Complete
Character(s): Collin Haussler, Oliver Wood, other Falcons as needed/wanted
Location: Falmouth Falcons Training Facility and Team Flats
Summary: The Falcons deal with the aftermath of an incident at their most recent game
Retcon Info: Picks up after this thread, except with it pushed back to the 20th and other Dec threads pushed back accordingly. No major changes.

“What the actual fuck were you thinking, Haussler?”

Fleming’s voice carried into the common area, but Collin simply sat there, gazing down at his hands in his lap. He was tired in a way that he hadn’t been since he’d been in hiding just because of his blood status. The ferocity he had shown on the pitch just a few hours ago had vanished altogether when the Magical Games Department’s owl had arrived with a very formal looking document that said, in part, “…suspended, pending a formal review.”

It might well have been a howler as much as the words were echoing around his head. “I’m serious, Collin,” Fleming was saying; his voice had gone hoarse from all of the shouting he had done both at the match and in the subsequent hours, at him, at the team, and at the officials. “What the hell happened out there?”

Collin glanced up at his captain, but couldn’t hold his gaze. “I couldn’t let him say that about Elena,” he mumbled, and felt his face grow warm. “You didn’t hear him.”

As excuses went, it was really bad. It had been really bad at the time, of course, kind of the worse, but his rational mind had been temporarily obliterated by blind fury and the sort of bone-deep grief that he wasn’t even aware he was capable of feeling until he was dragging the other man 50 feet to the ground, fists pummeling every square inch he could get his hands on. His own throat still felt raw from the primal screams that had been ripped from him as he attacked. It was only their hard landing that had finally snapped him out of it. Collin had taken the brunt of that landing, still had the burn of healing ribs to show for it, the ache of newly patched lungs reminding him of his shocking display with every shallow breath.

Fleming stared at him, he could sense it, could feel the weight of his disapproval in the shadow that loomed over him. “We’ll fight this,” the other man said, and Collin saw the shadow unfold his arms, saw one of them start to reach out toward him, but it fell back to his side. Even his shadow looked tired. “We’ll get you reinstated, but it’s pretty likely that the Department will drag their feet on this. We’re not exactly the golden child of the league. Merlin, Collin, you almost killed him.”

He winced, but otherwise didn’t move or say anything else. Fleming pushed out a slow sigh, and then walked to his office door and pulled it open. “Pack a few things, and then head to your parents’ place. The Department’s letter was very clear about this point. We’ll owl you with any updates.”

Collin nodded his understanding miserably, pushed himself to stand stiffly, and then left the office. This was officially the worst day ever.

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bl_collin
2017-08-06 03:29 am UTC (link)

For a handful of interminable heartbeats, Collin was completely convinced that he had overstepped. It wasn't what they did, not really. A couple of times they had managed to fall asleep together, but that had only ever felt like mates. Hell, as far as he was concerned, they'd never really had a proper cuddle. Now he'd pushed too far, asked too much. And he would completely understand if Oliver said it wasn't a good idea.

Except that wasn't what Oliver said. He'd said okay, and the relief was so palpable that Collin could do nothing more than surge forward for another kiss. This one was tempered with calm, however, sweeter and more lingering, spurred by Oliver's fingers against his neck.

Eventually, he pulled away, though it wasn't for lack of oxygen this time. He didn't go far, and kept his hands in a loose hold on the other man's arms. "Gonna pack a few things. Meet you at yours in a few?"

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bl_oliver
2017-08-06 03:57 am UTC (link)

For a few blissful seconds, Oliver did manage to think about nothing other than the feel of Collin's lips on his. Too soon, though, the reality of their situations intruded and he was faced with an inquiring expression a few inches away. Oliver hesitated again, for slightly different reasons this time. "We need a Muggle place. Maybe London?" It would be harder to track them down in London. It was late already, and he had a hard time seeing them leaving a hotel in the morning before the reporters were out in full force, determined to get an interview. "This is going to be all over the papers tomorrow, and you know they'll check all of the usual places first."

Oliver let his hands drift until they rested on the other wizard's shoulders. They were still standing close, but the simple transition in touches helped things feel a little bit more normal, not quite so desperate as they had a few minutes ago--or, if he was honest with himself, how that place in the back of his mind still felt.

"We shouldn't leave here together." Even if they apparated or took the Floo, they'd need to go through some central place out in the Muggle areas, and all it would take was one Quidditch fan seeing them to start the rumours. He hated the necessity of it, but they'd long since agreed on keeping private things private. Now was definitely not the time to change that.

He stood a little straighter, away from the door at his back, and Collin moved back in that same fluid motion. "But yes--meet me in mine and we can figure out it out, yeah?"

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bl_collin
2017-08-06 05:05 am UTC (link)

Everything Oliver was saying made sense, and it helped to penetrate some of the emotional sludge that had been gumming up his brain for hours. He nodded, already thinking furiously, ripping through memories of being in London with his parents during his school days, or occasionally meeting his brother or one of his sisters there, and trying to recall the various places he'd stayed. It wouldn't be that hard to find something, even given the time. And his parents insisted on him keeping a credit card for emergencies.

If this didn't qualify as an emergency, he didn't know what possibly could.

The hands on his shoulders were warm, comfortable weights, grounding. He couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged at his lips. A semi-hysterical laugh caught in his chest, but didn't manage to get any further. The fuck the press also never made it out, because what good would it have done? He had no great love for it right now, in fact, fully blamed it for pretty much starting this whole fucking mess, but Oliver was right on all counts. That was a dragon that was best left alone.

Before Oliver could leave, he couldn't help it. Had to do it. With Seeker deftness, his hand flicked out and he wound his fingers with Oliver's, and gave them a squeeze. "Yeah. Yeah, we will. All of it."

Together.

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bl_oliver
2017-08-06 02:18 pm UTC (link)

Oliver looked back into Collin's eyes for another long moment, though he wasn't sure what that search was supposed to find. Then he nodded, pulled away, and left the flat before his thoughts and emotions could get any more jumbled.

As soon as he reached his own flat, the reality of what he'd done seemed to crash down around him. He hadn't quit--it wasn't all so bad as that--but he'd walked out on his team to make a statement. He groaned and swiped a hand over his eyes. That meant he was actually going to have to talk to the press. It did little good if it looked like he simply quit in a huff. He had a strict policy of never talking to reporters about anything other than Quidditch, and the thought of putting his personal thoughts out there for the world to read made him far more anxious than he might have expected.

Attempting to push all that to the back of his mind, Oliver made short work of packing a bag, sent his owl to George's, and then sat down on the couch. It only lasted about two seconds, and then he was on his feet again, pacing across the living room with quick strides.

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bl_collin
2017-08-06 04:38 pm UTC (link)

It took a little while- maybe even a couple of minutes- for Collin to realize that he had been staring at his door, unmoving, ever since Oliver had closed it behind him. He had been a little shaken by the look in Oliver's eyes just before he'd gone, but hadn't been able to really process it. Finally, though, he'd managed to physically wrench himself away from the door, and set about summoning one of his traveling bags and set a charm to start moving his folded clothes into where it sat on his bed.

While that was going on, he moved to one of his windows and opened the small flap on the box that was secured there. In the only stroke of good luck he'd had all day, he found that the box was occupied. "Hey, Nike," he greeted the sparrow hawk quietly. The temperamental bird was another one of the things that his parents had insisted on after he'd come out of hiding. He rarely used her, but this was one of those cases where he was dizzyingly grateful to have her. The stare she gave him felt somehow critical, and he sighed even as he sat at his coffee table and dashed off a quick note. "I know, I know. I've fucked things up royally. Just take this to Mum and Dad's, and then stay there. I'll be along in a day or two."

He wasn't worried for the bird's accommodations at his parents' place; they'd put in an unobtrusive and eco-friendly roost in their garage ages ago. God, he was going to have to explain this to them. He could practically picture their looks of disappointment and concern, and it twisted painfully in his stomach.

Hunched over the table, a sudden sob spasmed painfully through his chest. Nike gave a small chittering cry and flew into the room to land in front of him. She bumped her head into his forearm, and then extended her leg. "Sorry." Collin sniffed and tied the note to it. "Rude of me to keep you waiting."

The bird twisted its head to give him a look that could only be described as reproving before flying out of the room and into the night. Collin grabbed his bag, summoned the few photos he kept around the flat- just in case- and then made his way to Oliver's flat. He knocked softly, and then called out quietly, "It's me."

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bl_oliver
2017-08-06 05:24 pm UTC (link)

"It's open," Oliver called back, and he waited for the click of the door both opening and then closing again before he looked up. The sight of Collin helped him draw some of that anxiety back under control, and his restless pacing ceased just in front of the other wizard. It was obvious that the anger and grief that had drive him to act on the Pitch had either faded or was deeply buried, and while Oliver didn't want that side of Collin to have a reason to resurface any time soon, he didn't much like this version, either. Despite their talk of figuring this out, something in Collin's expression spoke of defeat.

Whatever intentions he'd had for planning their next moves, he found himself returning to standing in front of Collin with one hand on the back of his neck. Maybe not so close, not so intimate, but his words were nonetheless infused with emotion that he probably would have been able to restrain on a good day. "We will figure this out." He opened his mouth to elaborate about humiliating the Wasps, turning the League around, making sure everyone saw Elena for who she'd been and not for her disease--or her death--but it all seemed pretty distant at the moment. Instead, he said, "You look like hell, mate. If I didn't know our healers kept their noses out of the political bullshit, I'd think someone left bruises just for sport."

Oliver stepped away before he could let too much of his reason be overwhelmed by everything else. There would be time for that once they settled. "Any ideas on where to go? There are a million hotels in Muggle London, so I suppose it doesn't much matter. The farther from...well, everywhere, the better." On that reminder, he crossed to the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards to pull out a pouch, then tucked it into his bag. He had no idea how much Muggle money was needed for a hotel room, but surely he had plenty. "You don't have to go back to your parents', you know. I'm sure George wouldn't mind another camper."

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bl_collin
2017-08-06 06:25 pm UTC (link)

Collin was pretty sure that he should feel disconcerted at the level of relief he was experiencing just being back in Oliver's presence again, but maybe he was too overwhelmed with everything else to get to that particular emotion. And then Oliver's hand was on his neck again, and he wanted nothing more than to sag against him, or drag him over to the couch and devour him. It was exhausting, feeling so many warring things all at once, each of them battling for prominence from one pained breath to the next.

The reassurances were what Collin needed to hear, but he couldn't begin to be able to fathom how they were even supposed to start getting things back to rights. It was like he'd left all his supposed Ravenclaw cleverness out on the pitch with Zimmerman's broken and bloody face. At the mention of his own appearance, he couldn't help but huff out a small, wry laugh. "It's not like I've been able to sleep since the match," he admitted. "They kept me awake while they repaired my ribs and lungs. Suppose the bruising might've been an afterthought."

He was pretty damned proud of himself for not craning after Oliver's touch when the other man moved away again. A place had clicked in his mind on his way to Oliver's place, one of the hotels he'd met his brother Jon at when he'd been at a conference in London. "Yeah, there's one we can try, The International Hotel. It's on Canary Wharf, 'bout 45 minutes away from Kings Cross and Diagon. That might do us."

He'd been gripping the handles of the bag over his shoulder since he'd gotten to Oliver's room, but he hadn't realized just how hard until they loosened ever so slightly at the offer of an alternative place to stay. The tension he'd been holding in his shoulders eased by a hair. "I'd need to pop in, just for a bit, tell them what's happened before they hear whatever skewed version might start spinning through the press. But, yeah, yes, I'd really like that, if it's all right with your mate."

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bl_oliver
2017-08-06 07:35 pm UTC (link)

"It works for me," Oliver said with a nod, making a mental note of the hotel's name. He'd never heard of it, and the more random, the better. It was only one night, and by the time the reporters could research far enough to track them down, they'd be safely back in Diagon Alley.

He hated to intrude on George so suddenly, but he also knew that if there was anyone he could count on to have his back in something like this, it was George. He would just have to make sure they resolved things quickly enough that they didn't wear out their welcome. "It will be, but I sent the owl around to be sure he'll be home tomorrow." With the shop to run, it was more likely than not, but better to be safe than sorry. "We should probably wait until later in the day, once Diagon calms down a bit."

Oliver turned back to look at Collin and considered him silently for a moment. "You should go ahead and go. Check in, leave a key for me at the front desk. Take a nap," he added in a firm tone, though he smiled a bit at the words. Collin was famous for his enjoyment of a good nap, and the juxtaposition of that with the command was enough to draw him out of his dismal mood, if only a little. Collin needed the sleep, and Oliver needed some time to think. It was a win-win. It was a good thing something was today. "I want to talk to Valencia before I head out. We're up against the Tornados this week, and she's gonna need the pointers."

And it would space out their trips enough that no one would notice that they took the same path from outside the Leaky Cauldron. "I'll grab some food, too. I've been on the other end of the healing for injuries like that. You're gonna be starved once your body has time to catch up." He slung his bag over his shoulder, then, before he could second guess himself, crossed back to Collin and kissed him quickly. "I'm serious. Sleep."

Oliver nodded toward his Floo, heft his bag a little better onto his shoulder, then headed out the front door. He could leave from downstairs.

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