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Tweak says, "Don't fear the reaper"

Roger Davies (pridechaser) wrote in impetuousrpg,
@ 2011-06-13 00:08:00

Entry tags:

char: marcus flint, char: roger davies

Who: Roger Davies and Marcus Flint
When: Monday evening
Where: Random Wizarding pub.
What: They decide to put everything aside and be friends. Or.. yeah no.
Rated/Status: High for violence and language. Complete.

After about the third hour of a Muggle crime-show marathon on Katie’s telly, Roger had to leave the house. He could feel his brain slowly rotting inside his head, and it was not a pleasant feeling. Roger wasn’t one to be idle, and a week of it was driving him insane. He didn’t know how to function without Quidditch. Katie had been around more, which helped in that he wasn’t alone so much, but it didn’t help the creeping and incessant restlessness that was his life now. He was so ready for America. Ready to get out of London, away from the Falcon fucks. Away from all the shite with Lavender and the moon coming up.

But that was still two days away. In the meantime, Roger headed out for a walk. Just to get out and to keep from getting sucked into another Muggle murder mystery. He’d been exploring around Katie’s neighborhood lately, and there was a pub not too far that he hadn’t visited yet. So with nothing else to do, he headed in that direction. It was a decent-sized place, and there was a fair bit of a crowd, despite it being a Monday night. Roger stepped up to the bar and ordered a pint, but before he’d even had a chance to really scope the place out, there was a petite redhead at his side.

“You’re Roger Davies, aren’t you?” she said, but it wasn’t really a question. More of a line. She had a little smirk and her rack pushed up and on full display, and she knew perfectly well who he was. Probably knew his jersey number and stats, too. There was no mistaking what she was: Quidditch groupie. They were all pretty much the same. And they came in packs. Roger turned toward a peal of laughter at a booth to his left, and there was the rest of her group. A couple of blondes, a brunette whose legs made up for a lackluster face. One of the blondes was hot, but the rest of them weren’t really anything special. Then Roger noticed who the hot blonde was giggling over, and his jaw clenched.

“Ooh, yeah, Marcus Flint’s here. Quidditch players don’t usually come here, I can’t believe there’s two of you here. And Marcus is practically a champion.” Her hand had crept up Roger’s arm, and he shook her off, roughly. “Stop talking to me,” he said sharply, then pushed off from the bar and stepped away from her. He was just going to finish his pint and leave.

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marcusfingflint
2011-06-13 05:13 am UTC (link)

Practice had gone well. It always went well. The Falcons were a great team. They read each other well and the worked together well. They were a fantastic team and Marcus loved the fuck out of all of them. They had less than a week until the finals and Marcus planned on winning. It was unfortunate enough that they'd lost against Puddlemere once and he didn't plan on letting it happen again. But practice was over and he'd had a meeting with the Owners at the bar afterwards. Of course, when that had been finished, he'd decided to hang around. With all of the Clint drama and the upcoming finals and possible upcoming business...well...he could use a few drinks. So he'd decided to stick around the bar for a while.

After a few drinks, a nice group of girls had come in. Well, not nice really. But a few of them were hot and they were flirty as hell and Marcus had thought about owling Clint but...he had enough issues with girls at the moment. Eventually, he'd ended up sitting with them, the hottest of the blondes practically straddling his lap in the booth while her mouth moved teasingly over his neck and the rest of the girls flirted and gossiped and giggled.

After a while, Marcus glanced up to see where one of the girls had gone and audibly groaned when he saw her flirting with Davies. What the fuck. Why couldn't he escape that bloke? He watched as the girl obviously hit on him, and then he obviously turned her down. Marcus couldn't help but snort. As he walked past the table, Marcus couldn't help but take the chance to be a dick. It was what he did after all. "What's the matter?" he called out to Davies. "Brown got you on the leash? Bit backwards, don't you think? Or is it that you just can't get it up?"

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pridechaser
2011-06-13 05:36 am UTC (link)

Roger stopped when Marcus called out to him, his free hand curling into a fist. The other one was wrapped so tightly around the handle of his pint that he wouldn't be too surprised if it snapped clean off. He really fucking hated that guy. Hated his team, hated his voice, hated his cocky fucking face. And besides just fucking existing, Marcus had to bring Lavender into this. After he'd slept with her and who knows what else.

He turned to face Flint, noting that the redhead had quietly gone to rejoin her table. He flexed his hand and then shrugged, hooking his thumb into his pocket. "Just tired," he said to Flint, easily. "Me and Katie have been fucking pretty much day and night now, so I really don't have the energy for average-at-best over there." He took a gulp of his pint, wishing now that he'd opted for a whiskey. "She's amazing, by the way. Fucking incredible, that Katie Bell. Best set of lips I've ever met. Among other things," he added, with a smirk.

He really hoped Katie wouldn't be pissed about this. But if it pissed Flint off it was totally worth it.

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marcusfingflint
2011-06-13 05:52 am UTC (link)

Marcus's eyes narrowed at the mention of Katie as his grip unintentionally tightened around the blonde in his lap. She let out a small whimper but Marcus pretty much ignored it for the moment. No way Katie had fucked Roger. No fucking way. He wasn't going to believe it. But then again, they were friends and they did live together and who really knew what they'd been up to? Sure, Katie was technically free to do what or who ever she wanted, but fuck. Roger fucking Davies? Was that a fucking joke? Because it wasn't very funny at all.

Marcus finished off his whiskey before shoving the blonde off of him. Quidditch groupies were desperate. She'd either get over his roughness or he'd find a new one. Not a big fucking deal. He wanted to get up and hit the fuck out of the kid, but this wasn't really the place, was it? And besides, he and Katie were done. What right did he have? But still. He was fucking pissed and nothing would have pleased him more at that point than to hex the ever loving shite out of Davies.

Marcus liked Katie. He really did. He liked her probably more than he should and wasn't that the reason that they'd ended whatever it was they'd had? And he wanted to respect her as a person. But if Roger was going to play dirty? Then he'd do the same. Besides, what did he owe Katie at this point? If she was really sleeping around already, then they were clearly completely done with. "Yeah?" he asked, trying to stay calm. "Well, she tastes bloody perfect. And taking her virginity? What a fucking experience. It was almost as good as fucking the hell out of Brown around the moon. Those two really know how to handle a dick."

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pridechaser
2011-06-13 06:10 am UTC (link)

So that had gotten a rise out of him. Roger felt a surge of triumph when Marcus shoved the blonde out of his lap, clearly no longer interested. But it was short-lived. Flint had to open his fucking mouth again.

Roger opened his mouth to shoot something back about Katie and her awesomeness- which he was really only working on assumption here- when Flint brought Lavender into this. That really struck a nerve. Not only had he been sleeping with Lavender for however long, he'd continued sleeping with her, knowing that Roger was in the picture. And even though a lot of that was on Lavender? Marcus was a fucking selfish prick.

"Moot point," Roger managed, unclenching his jaw enough to get the words out. "I don't see you fucking either one of them now. Guess you weren't good enough to keep them interested." He really hoped Lavender hadn't gone back to fucking Flint already. It would really kill his argument. And also he'd be really fucking pissed. And a little hurt. "And keep talking about my girls like that? I'll fucking smash your face in, Flint." Roger took a step forward.

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marcusfingflint
2011-06-13 06:25 am UTC (link)

So yeah, it had been shit to sleep with Lavender when she'd very obviously been involved with Roger. But Marcus had been involved with her first and if anything? He'd been the one to get dicked over. He'd tried to date her and make everything normal and she'd run off with Davies without warning. But then on top of that, Marcus had been the one to point out how unfair it all was to Roger and how she couldn't keep doing what she was. But clearly, Marcus was still the bad guy. He'd always be the bad guy because he was a pureblooded Slytherin on a winning Quidditch team and Roger was just... a pathetic excuse for a wizard who could never hope to live up to Marcus.

"Interesting," he said, taking a moment to figure out what the fuck was really going on. Not that he could. He was pretty fucking smashed at this point. "Because I'm fairly certain Brown asked what I was doing over the moon," he commented with an uncaring shrug. And sure, she'd asked to go running, but Marcus knew well enough that if he tried for more, he'd get it. He knew Lavender and he knew what he was capable of getting out of people and shagging Lavender over the moon? Not even an issue if he really went for it.

"Your girls?" Marcus asked with a snort. Since when did Davies own all the Gryffindor women? Marcus stood up from the booth and slowly moved towards Roger. "You're a stringy haired pathetic excuse for a Quidditch player. And if I wanted either of them? All I'd have to do is snap my fingers and they'd be mine. You know why? Because I'm better than you in every fucking way and if you really intend to make this a competition? I will win every time, hands down," he finished, all but snarling at Roger. He really fucking hated to talk about Katie like that, she was an amazing witch and he'd be lucky to have her. But fuck, Davies pissed him the fuck off.

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pridechaser
2011-06-13 05:35 pm UTC (link)

Roger stopped short. Already? Lavender was already fucking going back to him? Technically she had every right to. But that didn't mean the thought of Flint's fucking hands all over her was something Roger was okay with. "You're lying. Lavender wouldn't." Roger said, really hoping Flint was lying and that Lavender wasn't going back to him. He really shouldn't give a fuck what she did. But he did. A lot. "She deserves a lot better than you and she's smarter than that."

And then Flint just kept talking and Roger found it really hard not to clock him in the jaw every time he opened his mouth to take another breath. First off, his hair was awesome. But he wasn't even going to argue about that. "Yeah, my girls," Roger repeated, standing his ground while Marcus advanced. "Because whether or not I happen to be fucking them, I actually give a shit about them. You know why Lav didn't take you to France? Because girls don't care if you're the best fucking player in the world or the best fuck in the world. They want a guy that gives a shit about them once they put their clothes back on."

Roger took another step forward and another swig from his pint. He was so not drunk enough for this. "You're not any better than me, Flint. The only difference between you and me is that I play fair. I've never cheated or shit on people or had my Pureblood daddy pull some strings to get where I am. People fucking respect me because I'm a decent human being. Which is a lot more than I can say for you."

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marcusfingflint
2011-06-13 07:07 pm UTC (link)

Marcus almost laughed at Roger's reaction what he'd said about Lavender. Poor bloke. He really had fallen for the girl. But clearly he wasn't man enough to deal with her or some shite. He got the feeling that even if he didn't interfere that that little match up would end up disastrous. Marcus helping it along though just added to the entertainment. "Well, I don't really see what it matters seeing as you're fucking Bell and all," he said with a shrug. Right. No fucking way he was shagging Katie. Not while Roger still plainly care for Lavender. And if he was with Katie? Then didn't that just make him a huge fucking hypocrite.

He couldn't help but laugh again when Roger gave the 'real' reason for his not going to France. Which was complete bullshit, honestly. Marcus had made it clear before that that he cared for Lavender and had been going out of his way to show her so. The real reason was that Lavender was a spoiled little brat who wanted absolutely everything and she didn't want to have to worry about consequences for any of it. Merlin. Roger was a fucking idiot. Marcus was starting to seriously regret making Lavender come clean to him. This fucking idiot deserved to get played.

To be honest, Marcus didn't even feel like having this conversation anymore. Roger was so off base it was ridiculous. What did Marcus's father have to do with this? If he'd had his way, Marcus would be in politics. But instead, he was captaining one of the best teams in the league and he'd gotten there because he had worked hard and he was good at what he did. Marcus just rolled his eyes and almost turned to leave before changing his mind. Instead, he turned back and swung his left arm forcefully, aiming for his fist to land squarely on the other bloke's jaw.

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pridechaser
2011-06-13 10:50 pm UTC (link)

Roger didn't have time to smart back. Marcus' fist was colliding with his jaw, and even though he probably should have, he really hadn't seen it coming. He stumbled back, head reeling, and tasted blood in his mouth. His arm swung like a reflex, and the still half-full glass in his hand shattered against the side of Flint's head, spraying beer with it.

The scene was almost funny. The girls screaming and scrambling back, the nice little circle that had cleared around them. Beer dripping off of Flint's fucking stupid head. Except for the look on Marcus' face that looked like he was seriously contemplating murder. Almost funny.

"Cheap shot for a cheap shot, cocksucker," Roger said, with a small shrug.

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marcusfingflint
2011-06-13 11:12 pm UTC (link)

Marcus was surprised that Roger had the balls to actually retaliate. Well, it wasn't even balls in this case, it was more stupidity than anything. Marcus had done a lot worse to people who had done a lot less than Roger just had. Marcus could feel all the different shards of glass in his skin and the alcohol wasn't making anything better. His jaw clenched, really fucking pissed off that he was in pain AND that Roger had gone after his beautifully gorgeous face.

His eyes narrowed at the other bloke, despite the fact that that just pulled the skin with the glass still in it and fuck it fucking hurt. Cheap shots? That's how they were going to play this? Marcus really wanted to reach for his wand and just end it there, but he managed to resist. Instead, he brought his knee up to Davies' crotch forcefully before bringing his fist up to connect with his jaw again when he doubled over.

This was fucking ridiculous. Marcus' face was throbbing, his head was throbbing, and he was in a fist fight with Roger Davies. He wanted to fucking kill the bastard and he seriously hoped someone stopped him before this got too out of control. He wasn't even sure what they were fighting about other than the fact that Roger just really fucking pissed him off. And there was no bloody way that Katie would ever sink down low enough to shag that douche.

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pridechaser
2011-06-14 12:10 am UTC (link)

Well if that wasn't a fucking low blow, Roger didn't really know what was. But he didn't really have a lot of time to think about it. His one overriding thought was that that fucking hurt. So much it made his eyes water. He doubled over, then Marcus' fist knocked his head back. Roger dropped to his knees as stars exploded behind his eyes.

He stayed there for a moment, head low, ears ringing. Then he righted himself, shakily. "Alright, you piece of shit," he said, palms up. "I'm done." He gingerly reached up to feel his face. There were bruises blossoming on both sides, along with a split at the corner of his mouth. Fuck this shit. Flint wasn't worth it. He started to turn to leave and just cut his losses- but then Roger thought about Lavender, and Marcus' arrogant fucking face, and the moon in two days. 'All I'd have to do is snap my fingers.'

Roger was probably half-concussed and not thinking at all clearly. Without giving it more than a second thought, he lunged at Flint, bringing them both crashing to the floor, Flint's head narrowly missing the leg of a barstool. What a fucking shame. Roger elbowed Marcus sharply in the ribs, then brought his fist down against Marcus' face. Roger vaguely felt his knuckle split but he couldn't be bothered to care. "Don't. Fucking. Touch her. Again."

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marcusfingflint
2011-06-14 12:57 am UTC (link)

There was nothing to sober a person up like a fight. Of course, the sobering up slightly made Marcus just all the more away of how gashed up the side of his face and head were from that stupid fucking glass. He was going to have to go to a bloody healer for that and Marcus was not at all thrilled at the thought. He had thought Roger was giving up and leaving, the first smart decision he'd probably made in his life, when Marcus was caught off guard as Roger lunged at him.

His head may have missed the leg of the barstool, but it still connected to the floor with a nice crack. Marcus was pretty sure he'd blacked out for a few second because suddenly it really fucking hurt to breath and he was getting another fist to his face. He barely heard Roger's words as he tried to ignore the sound of rushing blood in his ears. But enough of Roger's message got through and Marcus actually managed a smirk.

Roger's grip had eased up slightly at that point and while he may have been the taller of the two, Marcus was definitely the stronger, or so he assumed. He flipped them both so that he was over the bloke and brought his elbow down against his nose. "I will fuck whoever I want to fuck," he said lowly before punching Roger's face again. And he was going to keep punching until that stupid fucking face of Davies' was nothing more than a bloody stain on the floor of the bar. Marcus wasn't sure how many hit he'd gotten in when someone was pulling him off of Roger. Marcus pulled out his wand and turned on the person instinctively, though lowered it slightly when he saw he had quite a few wands pointed at him.

"You two need to leave. Now," the man who had pulled Marcus off said. Marcus noticed a slight shake to his hand and was momentarily amused before putting his own wand away. "Not a problem," Marcus responded. Merlin. He felt like he was going to fucking pass out. His face was bleeding, his hands were swelling, his rib felt fucking broken... Luckily, the hot blonde from before made her way over to him and let him lean on her slightly. As he made his way out of the bar, he gave one last swift kick to Roger's side.

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pridechaser
2011-06-14 01:22 am UTC (link)

Roger had been too distracted with how awesome it felt to have his fist slamming into Marcus' stupid face that he didn't realize he'd eased up his grip until he was already on his back. There was an awful crunch when Marcus' elbow connected with his nose, and from the way blood started pouring out of his face, he was pretty sure something was broken. And then the blows just kept coming. Roger started to lose hearing in his left ear, and then Marcus' sneering face started swimming in front of his eyes. His own blood was roaring in his ears and pouring out of his face.

But then it abruptly stopped. Roger felt Marcus' weight lifted off of him, and he struggled to lift up on his elbows to see what was going on. His right eye was already so swollen he could hardly see out of it. He could still make out the wands pointed at them. Apparently it was time to go. If he could even get up.

But his mouth still worked. Sort of. "That all you got, you fucking ponce?" he called, the noise from his own voice making his head feel like it was going to explode. Then he felt a kick at his side. Fucking dick. Roger lurched forward, the idiotic center of his brain still firing correctly. But that was obviously a terrible idea. The bar in Roger's line of vision shifted violently, and then everything went dark.

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