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Tweak says, "oi with the poodles already"

Dean Thomas (artistdean) wrote in finnigans_rpg,
@ 2015-02-14 13:10:00

Entry tags:

character: dean thomas, status: complete

RP: Valentine's Day
Who: Dean Thomas and Ophelia Morand (NPC), Jess Thomas (NPC, offscreen)
What: A date that devolves
When: Sat 14th February
Where: London, various
Rating: NSFW - language

“Oh sod off, Jess. I’m not that hopeless. Besides the whole special date after I got back from Spain thing went well enough…”

Dean was walking along with his little used mobile phone pressed to his ear talking to his sister. Apparently she thought that he needed reminding about Valentine’s Day, and how not to make it suck for your girlfriend. Admittedly he’d not had a relationship which ran through Valentine’s Day before this, and he and Ophelia had had a certain amount of tension hanging between them recently because of his suppressed libido, but even he couldn’t forget this one. Besides, with Seamus decking he pub out for the occasion and talking about it as far back as Spain he wasn’t likely to forget. Not that he planned to send Ophelia one of the silly Valentine’s. She just wouldn’t appreciate the reference to the Lockhart year, or how bad they were.

“Yes, Jess. I’m on my way over there now. I have a rose and daisy mix because she likes daisies… Yes, I know. … Yes… No… Yeah, I’m fine, love you too, sis. Have a good day. Tell whoever it is you think I haven’t worked out you’re seeing that your brother might not be too intimidating but he’s protective and has scary friends. … Yes, I mean Susan. … Yeah. Bye, squirt,” he said, smiling as he poked the little red phone button and cut the call off and shoved it back in his bag one-handed.

He’d decided to walk to Ophelia’s flat after being ready far too early and feeling too antsy to stay at his flat any longer and was walking along clutching a bunch of flowers, and until a few seconds ago, his phone. He probably had another fifteen minutes or so to walk to the slightly better area where Ophelia shared a flat with two fellow French women.

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artistdean
2015-02-14 01:20 pm UTC (link)

Ophelia Mourand, meanwhile, was busy applying a variety of potions and charms to her face and hair as she got ready for her date. Dean had promised her a special date, and even though she was still somewhat disappointed that his libido was currently non-existent he had been very attentive since he had returned from his holiday. The muggle walking tour he’d taken her on had been fascinating.

“Dean va arriver quand, chère?” asked Marie, standing in the doorway of Ophelia’s room. [When is Dean going to arrive, dear?]

“Dans dix minutes, je pense,” Ophelia said, glancing at the pocket watch necklace around her neck. [In ten minutes I think.]

“Tu es prêt?” [Are you ready?]

Ophelia made a final sweep with an eyelash brush and turned on her stool, smiling at her housemate. “Oui, c’est simplement mes chaussures et mon manteau.” [Yes, it's just my shoes and my coat.]

“Bonne. Tu est tellment belle, aujourd’hui.” The compliment made Ophelia smile and she stood up and twirled. [Good, you are really beautiful today.]

“Oui? C’est pas trop?” she asked, looking at the rather sheer nature of her dress. [Yes? It's not too much?]

“Absolumment pas! C’est parfait, et si t’es ici ce soir tu dois rompre avec lui!” [Absolutely not. It's perfect and if you're here tonight you have to break up with him!]

“Marie! C’est pas comme ça. Il a des problèmes avec-“ Ophelia cut off as she heard a knock at the door. “J’arrive!” she called, shoes in hand as she headed for the door, missing the look Marie was giving her. [Marie! It's not like that. He has problems with-]

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artistdean
2015-02-14 01:21 pm UTC (link)

“Hey,” Dean said, smiling as Ophelia opened the door. Then he took in her dress and his eyes widened. “Wow, you look gorgeous,” he said, leaning in and giving her a kiss. He was suddenly feeling massively underdressed even though he’d made the effort and was wearing ironed trousers and a shirt, Ophelia always looked so put together. Even when covered in clay or clay dust she somehow looked attractively dishevelled rather than a complete mess, which was how Dean covered in paint usually looked.

“These are for you,” he said, as they stepped apart. He felt far more awkward handing over her flowers than he thought he would. There was a card tucked in there with a voucher for a full body massage. They’d suggested a couples’ massage but the idea of someone strange touching his back had almost made him leave the shop in a hurry. When he’d been thinking up a present for her he’d initially thought about the classic idea of fancy underwear, but considering their current predicament that seemed somewhat insensitive. And now she was wearing a dress that… he chewed at his lip awkwardly feeling unaccountably guilty that their Valentine’s date almost certainly wasn’t going to end up in more than a few shared kisses. He banished the thought and plastered a smile on his face. Thankfully Ophelia didn’t seem to be looking at him.

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artistdean
2015-02-14 01:22 pm UTC (link)

Ophelia was looking at the flowers that Dean had just handed her, slightly bemused at the daisies. They were beautiful but it wasn’t exactly a classic Valentine’s day gift. Perhaps he had mis-remembered her favourite flowers were dahlias. She opened her mouth to say something, but glancing up at him he looked nervous about something. Instead she stood on tiptoe and kissed him again in thanks. “They look beautiful, thank you. Come in. I will put them in some water,” she said, setting her shoes by the door and heading for the kitchen.

Marie appeared at the bottom of the stairs just then and Ophelia frowned at her, shooing her away. Her friend worried too much. Her relationship with Dean might have become a little strained but he was a sweet boy, and he was trying. Although Marie was right, if this dress didn’t make him want to drag her to his bedroom, or her bedroom perhaps this just wasn’t going to work. She liked sex, she had liked sex with him, and of late it had been monumentally missing and quite frankly if she had to go and get the charms on her favourite vibrator replaced due to overuse she wouldn’t be surprised at this point. Or just getting a whole new vibrator might be a better plan.

She noticed the card just then and smiled, opening one of the kitchen cupboards to find a vase, plucking out the card before adding the bouquet to the water she’d just added. She leaned back against the counter, eyeing her boyfriend coyly as she opened it. It was a beautifully hand-painted card, as she suspected. She felt a flash of annoyance at the voucher though. Did he not know her well enough to get her an actual gift? Not that she resented the thought, indeed it was welcome, but with a museum membership for Christmas and a gift voucher for Valentine’s day she wasn’t exactly feeling like he’d personalised her gifts. Still, she smiled at him.

“Thank you, I shall enjoy this,” she said and set the card aside with the voucher safely inside.

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artistdean
2015-02-14 05:05 pm UTC (link)

“Shall we get going?” Dean asked, trying not to be disheartened by the slightly tight look around Ophelia’s eyes. He’d done something wrong, he could tell, but he had no idea what it was. These days their relationship seemed to be a series of miscalculations and no matter how hard he tried it didn’t seem to be improving much. He wasn't the only one trying either. Ophelia had been suggesting a variety of different dates, and she'd even endured some of his more creative baking.

As they headed back into the hallway he held out a hand so she could balance as she put her shoes on. Then she let go and slipped into her coat.

"Sorry, but the restaurant is muggle so we can't apparate straight there. I know a nook just around the corner though, if you'll allow me?" he said, offering an arm again.

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artistdean
2015-02-14 08:48 pm UTC (link)

Ophelia resisted the urge to sigh. Already their date was feeling awkward. This was Valentine's Day, it was meant to be romantic and apart from the gifts it was feeling a little... formulaic. She smiled and gripped his hand, picking up her small, magically enhanced, bag and nodding.

A moment or two they arrived quietly in a relatively dark alleyway and she slipped her hand down into Dean's and he squeezed lightly, leading her onto a side street in the middle of the West End. It made sense since they were going to the theatre after dinner. She was just slightly disappointed to see an Italian restaurant. It had never been her favourite. She had been somewhat hoping that he would get over his aversion to taking her to a French restaurant. She'd have been happy at something like a Café Rouge even, she just really wanted the traditional food of her homeland.

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artistdean
2015-02-14 09:24 pm UTC (link)

Dean led Ophelia to the restaurant happily. It was one of those family tradition type places. He'd brought an assortment of friends here over the years since his family had discovered it on the search for somewhere on a rare trip to the theatre, and since he'd decided, with some consultation, to go to a wizarding comedy play this evening it seemed like the ideal dinner place.

Slightly in the lead he gave his name to the waiter who greeted them. The man, complete with slightly overblown Italian accent, immediately swept into removing Ophelia's coat and then held her chair for her as she sat down, Dean taking the seat opposite her. Dean had always loved the restaurant and the fact it wasn't too pretentious, and it was playing into the tourist and theatregoing crowd somewhat, but the food was still pretty good.

He smiled as he sat down and after a quick glance around the room he relaxed slightly and looked at Ophelia. She was looking down at her menu with a frown. He didn't know quite what to make of that. Maybe he should have gone for somewhere nicer. "I've been coming here for years," he said. "It can be a bit cheesy, but the food is pretty good and it works really well for the theatre," he said before ducking his head to the menu. To have garlic or not. Probably not. Not good date practice.

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artistdean
2015-02-14 09:47 pm UTC (link)

Ophelia almost commented when the waiter stepped right into her personal space, but it was a small restaurant. When it was he not Dean who held her chair out she frowned more. This just wasn't very romantic. Then Dean seemed to be more interested in looking around the room then looking at her or the menu.

"That's nice," she said shortly when he explained the family connection. It was nice that he had brought her somewhere he liked was lovely. The fact it wasn't exactly what she would have chosen for a special date was disappointing. And the fact that the menu simply wasn't very inspiring: an excess of pizza and pasta. She sighed softly.

"Problem?" Dean asked, sounding bright to her ears. Did he have to be so perky in this place. It was annoying her more by the second.

"No," she said, flicking her eyes to him. "I'm just not much of a fan of Italian food," she admitted.

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artistdean
2015-02-14 11:05 pm UTC (link)

"Why haven't you said anything?" Dean snapped. "I've taken you to Italian restaurants at least five times and you never said a word!" He was still speaking only just above a normal volume. It was irrational how angry he felt, and in fact he was fairly sure that his general on-edgeness around Ophelia of late was turning this into a situation which had a huge effect on his PTSD and this angry reaction was surely linked to that.

"I cooked you pizza, I cooked you risotto. Fuck I even made you pasta from scratch that one time," he said, dropping his menu, the heavy thump of the thick-backed folder startling several other diners. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

Now that he looked at her properly he couldn't read her face. Usually she was a relatively relaxed person, focussed, but compassionate. This wasn't a look he knew.

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artistdean
2015-02-14 11:43 pm UTC (link)

Ophelia was shocked, and slightly scared. She had never seen this side of Dean before. He wasn't an angry person. He had told her that sometimes his PTSD made him randomly irrationally angry but she had never seen it. She wasn't even sure this was it. Whatever it was was definitely becoming a scene though.

"I just thought you would change what sort of food you made sometimes. And it's not like you weren't keeping things from me too. And I think 'I have a problem with my brain' is a bit more important than 'I'd prefer it if we went to a different restaurant'!" she said. She started calmly enough but her voice rose and her manner changed, slamming her menu onto the table at the end as she truly began to shout.

"Would it kill you to have taken me to a French restaurant once?" she demanded, standing, vaguely aware of everyone staring at the two of them.

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artistdean
2015-02-15 12:31 am UTC (link)

When Ophelia effectively threw his PTSD in his face loud enough for the whole restaurant, who were now definitely listening in, to hear he felt a heavy cauldron drop into his stomach. He couldn't remember having his condition thrown at him in public like this before.

"Well pardon me for being nervous about something private and sensitive that's a major part of my life that people have refused to believe in the past!" he shot back.

They were both standing now, shouting as a waiter hovered, clearly wanting them to leave. He completely ignored her comment about the French restaurant, quite frankly he didn't even know what to do with that.

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artistdean
2015-02-15 12:36 am UTC (link)

"People are stupid, and so are you if you thought I wouldn't believe you. You were part of a war. Did you think I expected you to still be normal?"

As a waiter tentatively approached she turned to his reaching hand and spat. "And don't you even think about touching me you greasy Italian ... tuna fish!" The waiter looked surprised, but Ophelia was losing her grip on English, her accent becoming stronger and the words wanting to morph into French as her anger came too fast to translate.

She stalked towards the door, yanking the coat another waiter held out to help her on with from his hands.

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artistdean
2015-02-15 12:45 am UTC (link)

"I'm not stupid, I'm mentally ill," he yelled. "And look at how that's made everyone look at me," he added as several faces which had snapped to his suddenly became vastly interested in their food or menus.

He followed Ophelia out of the restaurant, grabbing his coat from the waiter and apologising to him briefly. He called after her. She stopped a few paces away but didn't turn to face him. His long legs ate up the distance and he stepped around her, stomach churning.

He was on the verge of crying with anger too now. He should be taking a calming draft, but instead he was standing in front of a woman who had just announced his condition to a whole restaurant. Just thrown it in his face, used one of the things he was most vulnerable about against him.

"Ophelia," he said, words simmering with anger but quieter now. "You can't do that. You can't use my PTSD against me like that. People don't believe it's real. If you can't cope with me snapping once in a while for no reason, if you can't cope with my libido being all over the place, if you can't cope with the reality of my life... we can't do this any more."

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artistdean
2015-02-15 12:52 am UTC (link)

Ophelia stopped when Dean called because she didn't quite want to leave. She wanted to sort this out, dramatic exit in high heels or not. She looked up at him when came to face her. She was sorry for what she had said about his PTSD like that. She knew she shouldn't have, but it had been nagging at her for some time now. She never got the best of him.

"Then we can't do this," she said quietly. It had been coming, and some part of her knew it because she said the words almost before they had time to register. She had been deluding herself that this would continue to work between the tension and the lack of sex and the fact he just didn't seem to want to open up to her.

"Au revoir, Dean," she said and strode away to the Apparition point. She needed a drink, and possibly to cry.

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artistdean
2015-02-15 12:58 am UTC (link)

Dean could see the decision in her face the moment before she delivered it and something released inside him and he had to steel himself against the rush of tears that threatened to fall.

"Goodbye," he said, words choked out to her retreating back.

What he needed now was to not have to deal with all of this. He barely remembered to stumble out of sight before apparating to Seamus' flat, grabbing his self-care box and heading for the bedroom. He stripped down to his boxers, lit his candle with a flick of his wand and crawled under Seamus' duvet and curled up, crying before he was quite able to get it together and take his potion.

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