Rufus runs on scotch and grumpiness and babies (isentropic) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-02-23 18:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1979-02] february, amelia bones, rufus scrimgeour |
RP Log; Rufus + Amelia
Who: Amelia and Rufus
Where: His flat
When: 23 February, lunchtime
What: Very loud yelling, and then angry snogging/mush
Status: Complete, logged
Rating: PG
Approximately 34 minutes after she told Rufus that she would be at his flat, Amelia apparated to Diagon Alley and stalked up flights of stairs until she stood before his door. Mouth pursed into that particular moue of annoyance that, thus far in her life, only three people - men - had been able to coax from her (and it was pure circumstantial that she cared or had cared particularly deeply for all three, in some way or another), she resisted the urge to kick his door to announce her presence. Instead she put the basket carrying the meal she'd put together onto the floor and knocked. And waited, calmly, for him to answer. She told herself that under no circumstances would she mention the small argument -- more of a discussion, really -- that they'd had and would simply leave the food with him and return home. This is what she told herself, however.
It was interesting that Amelia's method of choice for entrance would be door kickage, for Rufus sat glowering upon the other side - having been FORCED home from work through bribery and feminine wiles – and was damned well contemplating answering it with a firm kick of his own, but he supposed that flattening his lunch wasn't the best way to be properly fed. Skulduggery. That's what it was.
The door wrenched open to reveal a very ginger and very grumpy looking Rufus. "Oh, it's you." As if he was expecting anyone else at his bachelor hovel. He was tempted to take the food and run back to the office, but he had the feeling Amelia would be hex him flat.
Amelia straightened from picking up the basket, jaw dropping. "Oh, it's you?" she repeated. "Who else were you expecting? The Queen?" Mouth falling into thin lines she did finally pick up the basket. It took a great deal to not simply drop the basket just inside the door and walk away. She paused, considering. Well, he'd deserve it. So she did just that, moving it from one spot to another only feet away and propping the door open. Only then did she straighten her coat and turn to march her way back down the corridor.
At first, Rufus had regretted his remark, but her sassy return turned him all to bristles. He felt like kicking her stupid basket over and starving. Yeah! That would show her! Instead, he picked it up - after all, letting good food go to waste was a sin (or so his mother had reminded him often enough as a child) - and watched her storm off with an expression of pure schoolyard-boy-pulls-girl's-pigtails hostility. His voice echoed down the small hallway after her: "Sorry! The queen isn't VAPID enough for my tastes!"
This stopped her short long enough for Amelia to turn and say very calmly and very haughtily, "And obviously I am not either." She turned, definitely pouting, to continue. She continued muttering under her breath, all of her words indistinguishable save one: "Prat."
Rufus's expression turned from furious to baffled to spiteful and he threw the stupid basket back into the flat, paying absolutely no mind to it bowling over half a dozen papers and bouncing to a still in his kitchen (he would later be thankful for Amelia's sound wrapping ability), before storming down the hall after her. He stopped short of actually grabbing her by the arm and jerking her around (after all, how clichéd would that have been?), but trailed her until she was forced to stop (or apparate away). "AND WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?"
"STOP SHOUTING AT ME!" was thrown back up at him, Amelia's face and stance mutinous as she turned to face him and didn't take a step back. But then, it was that or take a step down into the stairwell and she refused to back down in any way, even if he was towering over her. "It means just what it sounds like. I must not be vapid enough to capture your attention beyond a drunken snog, and Merlin knows what I was thinking then." Her chin lifted even more as she attempted to look down her nose at him even as she was forced to glare upwards. "Just return the basket to me on Monday."
Rufus looked completely flabbergasted, and he actually took a step backward as if the wind had been knocked out of him. "I... but you." Crap. Crap! He needed to think of something intelligent to say and his brain had become as mushy as Carlotta Pinkstone's. It wasn't a drunken snog, his brain challenged - but it had been - and it wasn't that she hadn't captured his attention - she had - but. But she was Amelia. And. Yes. That was the whole of his argument, though he couldn't quite say it aloud.
"What?!" There. That would buy him some time.
"Perhaps you should stop in at St Mungo's tomorrow and have your hearing tested. I hear it starts to go in old age," she said very kindly, and turned her back on him. She refused to feel sorry for what she'd said. And every moment that he spent doing nothing to refute her claims just made it all the more clear that she'd behaved as a silly girl with a crush on her favourite teacher.
Rufus's expression was caught somewhere between stunned and glowering, and he reached out to grab Amelia by the arm and her around.
"You're not going anywhere until you repeat what you just said." He said, tone infinitely calmer than he felt. It was then that he realized how very public their little tiff had been - for the grey haired lady down the hall was sticking her head out her door without even so much as attempting to be subtle. Bugger it all, he wasn't letting her go until she said it. Maybe his hearing did need to be checked.
"Which did you mean? It's painfully clear that I'm not vapid or brainless enough to capture your attention beyond a drunken snog? Or that I think that tomorrow you should make a trip to St Mungo's to have your hearing checked? Please be more clear." And with that, she used her other hand to release the grip that he had on her arm.
"You are the most insufferable woman I have ever MET." Rufus frowned down at her, finger now pointing at her since he wasn't quite rude enough to reinforce his grip on her. "I spend more time with you than any other stupid insufferable person I know." His voice was rising and his finger shaking. "And..." his heart was pounding but he didn't have much more to say, though his blood was rising and his cheeks turning a peculiar sort of red to match his hair. "I don't have to be drunk. To snog someone." Redder still. "And my hearing is FINE."
"Well of course you don't have to be drunk to snog someone. Only to kiss me. You have to spend time with me, I'm your employee," Amelia hissed, her face growing paler in contrast to her own. "Then maybe you should have your stupid head examined."
And somewhere in the anger and frustration and petulance of it all, Rufus's shock wore off long enough for him to reach forward, grab Amelia by the shoulders, and kiss her full on the mouth. It wasn't a particularly long or romantic kiss or the kind that warrants a soft focus on the movies, but something passionate and rough and angry that lasted a few long moments before he released her.
"THERE. NOW IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME I HAVE TO GO GET MY HEAD EXAMINED." He wasn't sure why he was yelling, but he turned on his heel and stormed back toward his apartment, a flush erupting over his neck and ears with a vengeance.
It was, however, long enough for Amelia to recover from her shock enough to respond in kind, reaching up to curl her hands into the sleeves of her shirt, and long enough to leave her stunned for a few moments after he let go, his shout ringing in her head. And then she followed him, not as quickly in her very proper robes and shoes, but fast enough that she was able to reach out and grab his wrist before he escaped into his flat. "What in the hell was that?" she asked, her voice creeping higher. "Was that to prove something to me?"
All she knew was that she definitely wouldn't mind if he had to prove it again, and that she didn't know whether turn laugh or cry, stay or flee.
"It was a nonDRUNKen kiss, OBVIOUSLY." They now had two or three people whose heads were poking out of their flats, but Rufus was too stubborn too withdraw now. Damned badgers.
"I don't need prove -- you're just -- obviously I --" he spluttered, turning redder and redder and finally just giving up and grabbing her again. It was easier to kiss her in the hallway than yell constantly, anyway, and there was some strange, tucked away part of him that really wanted to kiss her - and not in the suave, charming way that he had kissed dozens of women before her. It confused him, and he didn't like it. Didn't like it, but acted on it all the same.
Amelia didn't have time to even try to produce a response to counter him. She became very, very still, finally sighing and melting against him. He dizzied her, threw off everything she knew about herself, him, them, and didn't bother even setting her back down again. She clung to him, vaguely aware of small chatterings from others and of a warmth that was growing within her the longer the kiss lasted. Or kisses. She wasn't sure any longer.
It was a bit difficult to stay angry when there was kissing going on - hell, even Rufus wasn't that hot tempered. Kissing and... a tiny, tiny bit of feeling, for his fingers roamed very slightly downward to find a better hold than just her shoulders - which were very nice shoulders, but not exactly made to be handles.
And then there was lips and tongues and shuffling and Rufus navigating them both through a door, their awkward disparity in heights making everything unsuave and clumsy (but still nice).
And then there was a sofa back and softness and mingling and jostling.
And then Rufus was falling off the side and onto the floor, a loud "waugh!" his only response.
Amelia only stepped where he lead, hands and arms having no reason not to circle his neck, and she had no reason not to close her eyes and move as needed until they were on the sofa and still adjusting. And then Amelia was staring down at him, lips swollen and eyes wide with surprise. "Oh."
Oh was a very apt descriptor for the tangled up mess they were in, and Rufus peered up at her with a half smile, half startled expression, as if the interruption had made him slightly unsure of what he was doing. If she'd been someone else (yes, a vapid blonde), he would have just laughed it off and dragged her onto the ground with him - but there was something different about staring up at Amelia, red-lipped and lovely in her freckled way, that made him pause - that made him stretch up a few fingers to stroke across her cheek in a quiet, thoughtful way.
"I'm a bit of a prat." He admitted.
For just a moment Amelia wished she were that vapid blonde, but the moment was gone as he touched her. Uncertainly, she smiled, then turned her head to kiss softly his palm. She reached up press her hand against his. "More than a bit."
His response was little more than a crooked smile and he collapsed back onto the floor, pondering the spot where he'd smacked his head.
"What are we doing?"
"We were kissing," she stated, letting go and sitting up to straighten herself out. "I'm sorry."
He was right. What were they doing? He was her boss. He was infuriating and charming and she knew exactly why everyone woman in the Ministry sighed over him. Apparently it didn't stop her from acting just as stupid as them, only in a more direct way.
"I'm not." He peered back at her, though his hands were now tucked beneath the red tufts of hair that stuck out from behind his ears. Kissing Amelia was nice, and though there was part of him that wondered at his own motives (they didn't seem quite as shallow as he'd expected them to seem), he brushed that aside for now and simply contemplated the woman above him. Not his 'type', he supposed, but well... she seemed to like him. He seemed to like her.
But he hesitated. Amelia wasn't one night stand material... that made things trickier. He didn't so much have a problem with commitment as it had a problem with him - and he didn't know what she even wanted out of him.
"Why not?" If he was going to speak shortly, so would she. Besides there didn't seem much to say. There was only this awkwardness and an underlying residual wanting that she didn't know if she wanted to explore.
"I don't really know." He admitted - and it was true. He didn't know what he wanted or what she wanted or what they were or where they were going. I don't know and I like not knowing. I don't want to know. But he couldn't quite say that - it didn't make sense and it was hard to base a relationship (did he want a relationship? was that where this was heading?) on not knowing anything. "Does it matter? We're adults. We're allowed to enjoy each other's company."
"We are, yes," Amelia admitted, tilting her head. She paused, thinking. She cared about him, that much was obvious. She didn't get angry like that with people she didn't give a fig about. But there was so much else to consider. Their jobs, how anything beyond her leaving now would affect how they interacted at work. "What do you want? I can't do all of this much more, I know that."
That was the question wasn't it? And Rufus didn't have an answer. His crooked smile fell a bit and a shrug rolled off his shoulders (or as well as it could given his proximity to the floor). "I don't want anything. I just... I like your company. You like mine. Why's it got to be figured out beyond that?" She wasn't a hooker with a menu. He didn't have a right idea what exactly he was supposed to say.
Amelia frowned, and slipped to the floor, wedging herself between Rufus and the sofa. Gently she turned his face towards her. "Because once upon a time I was going to be married, and then he died. If that had happened, then I wouldn't be here now and I wouldn't be who I am," she said softly. "I don't know if that life would have suited me, and I don't know if I even want it now. But there's still a part of me that is screaming at me that I have to seize what I can before it dies, too."
Rufus's brows crinkled up a bit and he managed to get his arm between her and the floor (she needed to be protected from the lord knew what that he had on his carpet). "I'm sorry." And he was. Not because her fiancé had died, but because he didn't think he made a very adequate replacement. He was busy and thick-skulled and infuriating, and even though he'd never paid any mind to all the women who had told him so beforehand, he did recognize the idiocy in himself, though he wasn't willing to change.
"I can't tell you I'll woo you. Or that I'm romantic and that I'll marry you. Or that I won't hack you off tomorrow and the next day. I'm just an idiot who thinks you're rather nice."
She shook her head, dismissing the apology. She didn't want it. If she'd wanted a replacement, they could be found by the handful, she knew. Her mother was always pushing this young man or that on her. "Maybe I don't want any of that. I don't know. Maybe I don't want any of that, the romance or the marrying or the utter romance of anything." And she didn't. But she liked that he was solid and strong and didn't back down from her and (she thought) would be disappointed if she backed down, too. "I'm glad you're not trying to woo me, because telling me that I'm 'rather nice' makes me seem like your old maiden auntie."
Rufus wrinkled his nose. It was easier to charm people when he hadn't fallen off of his damned sofa and was crumpled on the floor in a too-tall, ginger mess. "Maybe you should be telling me what you want, then?" Because he was satisfied just laying here, or watching telly, or stealing her biscuits and falling asleep on her sofa.
"I don't know. I'm really very mixed up," she admitted, wondering why it was so very comfortable to sort of lay with him on an uncomfortable floor. "I liked the kissing. That was very nice. Actually, this is very nice, too. You're very nice as well, when you're not being a complete prat." And I'm not screeching.
"Am I the old maiden auntie now?" Rufus grinned a little near her cheek and leaned up onto his arm so that his face was close to hers. He hoped his breath didn't smell bad - he couldn't remember what the last thing he'd eaten was but it probably had onions in it just to spite him. "Maybe we don't need to know." He suggested helpfully.
"Perhaps the strange bachelor uncle," she teased, nudging his nose with hers. "I think I like that idea." Her voice diminished, disappearing almost entirely as she closed the meagre distance between them once again.
"Blahhhh" he stuck out his tongue and licked the very tip of it, which was positively revolting but a nice break in what had been a Very Serious conversation (and he disliked those when he wasn't at work). And he just wrapped her up in his arms, not having a clue what he was doing, but deciding that Amelia was rather nice and perhaps it would be stupid of him to say anything else.