WHO: Baz & Jeremy WHAT: Dinner! Casual hypothetical conversations about possible vigilantism! WHEN: Yesterday WHERE: Jeremy's WARNINGS: Nope.
Baz spread the Prophet across the kitchen table with a flourish, bracing his palms on both sides of the article: LEAKY CAULDRON SET ALIGHT. He felt a familiar rush of helplessness as he scanned the article, though it was quickly replaced by a tight knot of frustration in his chest. It was all racking up in a way that made it difficult to paste a grin on his face. The Death Eaters hassling him on the network, the Death Eater on his show, the threat of being fired hanging over his neck. It was too much.
He preferred home cooked meals over takeaway. Cooking helped him relax, too. But tonight he had opted to bring over Chinese, and Jeremy’s table was covered in cartons of food. There was only the two of them, but Baz had ordered enough for four people. If pressed, he would blame it on stress.
“Do you want me to summarize Gwen’s article?” he asked, waving his chopsticks in Jeremy’s direction. “Or have you already heard about how everything is terrible?”
“Everything’s always terrible,” Jeremy remarked, eyes scanning the Prophet with a frown. He’d already seen it. Already heard about it too, but it didn’t really stop him from reading the headline again. “The sad thing is that I’m mostly just relieved there isn’t a massive body count.” Not that he ever stopped being on edge that something was about to happen that would cause one.
He reached for one of the food cartons, still frowning. “It must really suck to work for the Prophet right now.”
Baz nodded in agreement as he peeled the lid off a container of lo mein. “I hate that Gwen is getting shit for this,” he said, irritation seeping into his voice. He paused long enough to pick up a slice of beef, pop it into his mouth, and chew rather angrily. “She’s doing what she has to do to keep her job. I wish people would try to understand that.”
“I think most people do understand it. It just doesn’t necessarily feel very good. I’m sure Gwen doesn’t feel great about not condemning them in every piece. I know you don’t. I don’t think figuring out what you can and can’t do and where you can and can’t do it is particularly easy for anyone right now.” Jeremy picked at a piece of chicken thoughtfully before taking a bite, his recent conversations about the Order gnawing at the pit of his stomach.
“Unless you’re a Death Eater, I guess. They’re pretty gleeful.”
“They can all go eat dicks,” Baz grumbled, stabbing at his noodles. He lowered his gaze to his food, his mind whirling as it went over the events of the past few days. He hadn’t discussed his meeting with his producer in great detail with anyone, not even Jeremy — yet. His brows knit together as he continued, his voice low and heated. “I mean, they have enough time on their hands. Lucius Malfoy sent in like, 900 complaints to the WWN about me.”
Jeremy watched Baz for a moment, trying to keep his expression neutral but concern still flickered in his eyes. He’d thought maybe something like that had happened, but he hadn’t wanted to push. “Lucius Malfoy seems like the sort to sent in 900 complaints to a mattress store because he woke up on the wrong side of the bed one day and surely it should’ve been charmed to stop him. Did—” he hesitated just for a moment, “—did anything come of it?”
A small, bitter smile tugged at the corners of Baz’s mouth as his eyes traced over Jeremy’s face. “The official order is to treat Death Eaters like, quote, the salt of the fucking earth, unquote, unless I want to be fired. That’s the long and the short of it.”
“That’s such bullshit. You shouldn’t have to kiss a bunch of DE asses just to talk about Quidditch. You shouldn’t have been in that position to begin with let alone reprimanded for it. I still don’t get why he went on the show in the first place.” Reaching out, Jeremy took one of Baz’s hands and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry nobody at the WWN’s willing to say how fucked up it is except you.”
As Baz looked down at their hands, he felt a twist in his chest, a strange flip in his stomach. He ducked his head, his bitter smile transforming into a shy one as he replied, “Thanks, Jez. I’m trying to look at it as incentive to do… well, I’m not sure what yet.”
But it wasn’t because he hadn’t put a lot of thought into it in the past 24 hours. He was still thinking of a way to slip coded messages into the show, something Rosier and his cowardly producers wouldn’t pick up on. “Maybe I do have delusions of grandeur, but I’m going to find a way to let people know it’s fucked up. Somehow.”
Jeremy’s own smile wasn’t shy but it was small and sincere. “I think I’m coming around to the idea that the only way to stop feeling useless about everything is to figure out how to do something. Not that it’s easy to do that.” Or that it wasn’t dangerous to do that. He felt pretty aware of how dangerous everything could be, which only made the encouragements more complicated.
“You could probably do something anonymously outside of the Pitch. If you can’t think of a way to slip things into it.”
“That’s an idea,” Baz replied, setting his chopsticks down in order to thoughtfully tap two fingers against his mouth. When he continued, his words came out in an excited rush, his face radiant with boyish excitement. “I mean, I have podcast experience. I just feel like that might overlap too much with Potterwatch? But maybe Gwen and I could team up and have a whole like, alternative media thing. It’s not like the Prophet is doing anyone any good these days. And I think—”
There was an abrupt pause. His expression turned curious as he tilted his head. “Wait, have you figured out how to do something?”
It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen the possibility of the question coming up, but Jeremy still hadn’t figured out how he would answer it if it did. There was a telling silence, too long for the answer to really be no, but he wasn’t sure if he was in the position to talk about trying to join a vigilante group when he wasn’t even sure they’d let him in.
Eventually he shrugged, trying to seem casual. “I don’t know yet,” he said honestly. “I guess I’m thinking about it.” He studied the side of one of the food containers for a moment before finally looking over at Baz. “Anyway, I don’t think it’d be too much overlap with Potterwatch. I think the more the better in this case.”
But Baz was not so easily distracted. “Are you thinking about becoming a vigilante?” he asked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as he leaned forward. A quick, delighted smile flitted across his face. “Because I have to tell you, that’s pretty sexy. I mean, terrifying and nerve wracking and a million other synonyms for scary, but like, also incredibly hot?”
Jeremy laughed before he could stop himself, feeling a little of the tension he was carrying ease just a bit. “It probably only seems hot because I’m already incredibly hot, thanks.” He sobered before adding, “But you’d be okay with it? If hypothetically that was a thing that happened?”
“Hypothetically,” Baz began, gesticulating wildly with his chopsticks, “I would be incredibly worried about you all the time! But—” He paused for a moment, his brows creasing in concern as he held Jeremy’s gaze. “I already am worried about you all the time, I guess. Like, you and Owen are getting harassed by Death Eaters over nothing. Well, not nothing, but you know what I mean.”
“I know,” Jeremy shrugged, trying to make light of something that was really a lot more serious than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t sure if what he did or didn’t do would make that much of a difference if the Lestranges felt like being nostalgic over their past kills. What happened to his dad was always going to loom over things, one way or another.
“If it helps, I’m pretty sure I’m just going to be the guy in the back trying to make sure that nobody dies with my sweet, sweet healing skills.”
“See, that’s great, though,” Baz replied around a mouthful of food. “You’d be dead useful to a group like the Order.”
“I guess we’ll see.” Jeremy popped a piece of chicken in his mouth, trying to give himself some time to think out the next thing he wanted to say. “If it stopped being hypothetical, you’d want to know, right? I mean it’s all shrouded in secrecy and whatever, but lying about it seems like the sort of thing that could really screw up a...you know.” He glanced up a little sheepishly.
“A what?” Baz’s eyes flashed with amusement as he gave Jeremy a teasing grin. He affected a grandiose air as he threw out a few suggestions: “A budding romance? A love connection? An affaire de coeur?”
Rolling his eyes, Jeremy threw a packet of soy sauce at him. “I was going to say a relationship but I was afraid you’d start choking on your food over there. But sure, call it an affaire de coeur.”
Baz retaliated by tossing back a packet of duck sauce with a laugh. “You can say relationship or affair de coeur, I don’t mind. And I don’t mind if you choke me with something else later.” He followed his words up with a wink, but his expression grew more serious as he continued, “But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t lie to me. And you’re definitely not allowed to pull some Batman ‘it’s not safe for us to be together’ lone wolf vigilante bullshit. You suckered me into admitting I… how I feel, so you’re stuck with me.”
“Admitting that you like me, I think, are the specific words you’re looking for,” Jeremy said easily with a teasing grin of his own as he watched Baz carefully. “But I’m not going to pull the whole Batman thing. It’s stupid, to start with. Nobody’s particularly safe at the moment, so we might as well get laid. Which, you know, we’ll see about that one thing later.”
“Good,” came Baz’s laughing response, and he continued to laugh even as he picked at his lo mein noodles. “And, for the record, like is such a strong word. But I suppose I’m all right having a hypothetical vigilante as a boyfriend or whatever.”
His shoulders rose and fell in a shrug and his gaze dropped to his food, but his cheeks were beginning to redden.
He’d already been smiling, but Jeremy’s grin shifted from amusement to one of genuine affection as he watched Baz. “You like me. And you want me to be your hot vigilante boyfriend. But for the record,” he paused for a moment, but he didn’t shift his gaze. “I’d be pretty okay with having a hot pirate radio broadcaster or whatever you end up doing for a boyfriend too.”
Baz’s embarrassment was plainly written on his face, but he was clearly pleased as he said, “Then we’re in agreement, Healer Dearborn. Now hurry up and eat before your food gets cold.”