Pansy Wisteria Parkinson (pugmylife) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2017-02-15 23:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed, !complete, !completed gdoc, !log, ~2017 february, ~25 points, ~~pansy parkinson (pugmylife), ~~~neal caffrey (caffreynated) |
WHO: Neal Caffrey and Pansy Parkinson
WHERE: Neal’s apartment
WHEN: Before the relationship confusion plot
WHAT: Neal does not, in fact, have a boil.
RATING: PG
STATUS: log; completed
As soon as Pansy finished work, she apparated to Neal’s apartment. Out of consideration for the fact that he hadn’t grown up around magic, she landed just outside his door, rather than right in his apartment. He’d given her a key to let herself in whenever she wished, but Pansy was savvy enough to understand that there was a difference between letting herself in and simply appearing in his living room. Besides, she didn’t want to risk Apparating right on top of him; that would be rather awkward. So she let herself in, calling out, “Neal?” She was going to have to take a look at this boil of his. While she’d feel badly for accidentally hexing him in her sleep, she wasn’t entirely convinced that was indeed what happened. She’d be quite the wandless worker of magic if she had, and magical power had never been her strength. *** “Hey!” Neal appeared from the kitchen, towel in hand to wipe the water on them. “Was just finishing up the dishes.” He closed the distance between them quickly, and leaned in to kiss Pansy on the lips. “How’s my best girl,” he asked just before he reached down to playfully smack her bottom. He stepped back, goofy grin spread over his lips while his eyebrows bounced playfully. He turned to return to the kitchen, hanging the towel on its bar before he pulled himself onto a stool. “How was work today?” Neal couldn’t help but notice how very domestic all of their interaction was. He liked it, and wondered what Pansy thought of it all. *** Pansy liked it. She wasn't the domestic sort in that she enjoyed cooking or cleaning or decorating the house, but she had always liked domesticity: the comfort and safety of knowing she was home . Having grown up in the dark and uncertain times of the Second Wizarding War, that sanctuary where she didn't have to watch what she did or said was a rare and valuable thing. Neal’s apartment was fast becoming that sanctuary for her here. But instead of worrying when it would all come crashing down, as she used to, she simply allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of being taken care of, and having someone to take care of in turn. There was a reason why the Sorting Hat had, for one terrifying moment, considered putting her into Hufflepuff: her loyalty and protectiveness towards the people who were important to her. “It was dreadful,” she announced dramatically as she followed him into the kitchen to see what he was cooking. “All day I was terribly distracted by the thought of you suffering in manly silence over this boil I gave you. Although…” She peered at him suspiciously. “You seemed to be moving quite well for someone with an awful pustule.” *** Ah, the awful boil that Neal had teased Pansy with. He resisted the urge to chuckle, and instead put on a pained look. “Oh, believe me, it’s hurting. But I got a bandage on it. Being shoeless helps. Plus I have to act tough to go along with the typical male stereotype.” You know the one where men didn’t complain about pain and shit like that. He grinned at her, and when he got off the stool he made a point to wince a little (not too much because that would have made the ruse too obvious) when he stepped on his right foot. Neal was certain that he didn’t tell her which foot it was, only that it was on the big toe. He hobbled over to the couch, and flopped down unceremoniously. Neal sighed loudly, and then patted the seat next to him. “You better come look at it if you’re going to fix it.” He had propped his sock-covered foot on the coffee table and was wiggling his toes at her. *** Pansy gave him a narrow-eyed look, but sat herself next to him. He was much too amused by this whole thing to be entirely sincere. “This had better not be a ploy to get yourself a foot massage.” She said it mock threateningly, although she had quite willingly given him foot massages before. If that was what he wanted, he wouldn't need this subterfuge. She made a gesture with her fingers. “Off with the socks.” Boil or not, she wasn't going to take it off for him. Especially if he had a boil. *** He sighed dramatically, and when she took a seat next to him he crossed his left foot over his right knee. “Now just… prepare yourself.” There was a sense of dread with his words, and he gulped back the imaginary lump in his throat for extra effect. He slipped his thumb underneath the elastic and began to pull it down slowly. Neal moved it past his ankle and heel, and then as he neared the toe he yanked it off quickly. “Aaaaah!” He screamed suddenly while waving the sock in her face. It was all an act, of course, but maybe he caught her off guard even if it was just a little. *** It was the over dramatization that had her going from suspicion to outright doubting. Neal wasn't the sort to be such a big baby about a little boil, and that twinkle in his blue eyes was irrepressible. Still, she jumped when he screamed, and then she quickly leaned over to see for herself the state of his foot. Then she swatted him. “There's nothing wrong with your foot!” *** Neal fell back against the couch, chest shaking from what could only be described as uproarious laughter. He knew that she did not entirely believe the boil story, but he got her to jump and that was more than enough for him. He couldn’t stop laughing, though, and his eyes began to water from it. It was too funny, the jump followed by the look on her face. It was great. “Ad-Admit it,” he finally managed to say. “You were worried for a second.” He held his finger and thumb together to show just how much time he meant. “You were doubtful, but also worried.” He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “That was great.” *** Pansy scowled at him, but his glee was so infectious she had to fight to keep smiling herself. “That's what I get for being worried about you.” She swatted him again and sat back on the couch, exaggerating her pout. “You know, maybe next time I really will hex you with boils.” *** “No you wouldn’t.” His confidence was so forthright, but only because he knew that there was a softer side to Pansy that she didn’t like to show. Luckily for him he was an exception. He grinned playfully before pulling her onto his lap for a hug. “I hope you’re hungry,” he said in an attempt to move past his ruse. “Because I have Beef Wellington, grilled asparagus, and risotto waiting for us to devour it.” *** “Don't try to bribe me with food,” Pansy told him severely. “I am still cross with you.” But she curled up against him, splaying her fingers across his chest. He had a very nice chest, her Neal. Then her stomach rumbled, and she gave in to her laugh. It was indeed a side of her she wouldn't have shown many other people. “All right, you can bribe me with food.” She slid off his lap and held out her hand to help him up. “What's the situation on your nude drawing class, then? Will you model and will I have to be there to stop anyone from getting any ideas?” *** “Mmhmmm.” It was the sound of utter doubt. She wasn’t mad with him, not over a pretend boil. But it was a playful gesture, one that he could work with later if he wanted to “make up” for upsetting her in the first place. “See, I knew the smell would overwhelm you eventually.” He took her offered hand, and stood to his feet to head into the kitchen. He was about to ask Pansy to set the table, but instead was caught a bit off guard when she mentioned the nude class. Neal turned to look at her, face lit up with a near laugh. “What?” It was all he could manage before he shook his head. “Not this class, no. Some kid named Jace is going to do it.” He shrugged as he was still unsure if that was the best decision or not, but Clary had asked and really he couldn’t say no. She was a sweet kid, and a good student. He trusted that she would rein in her boyfriend if it came down to it. “Besides you can’t stop people from getting ideas,” he teased. “If I was going to do it. Which I’m not. So don’t worry.” *** “Jace?” Pansy recalled a young man she’d met by that name, and she hoped it wasn’t the same one. She couldn’t imagine anyone as unpleasant as him sitting around for hours in a class. Then again, he might like that kind of attention. “Maybe I’ll show up anyway, just to see.” It was her way of supporting him - because unlike certain obnoxious teenagers, she was perfectly capable of staying quiet and out of the way. As she spoke, she was already opening up the cutlery drawer with her wand and floating out the utensils, and she gave him a small bump on the shoulder before taking her seat. “All right, let’s see how much this meal will go towards making things up to me.” *** It wasn’t like Neal to not get along with people. There were rivals in the business, of course. People that were unscrupulous when it came to the con, and those that didn’t care whether or not they hurt people in the process, and the usual rule was to stay away from them. And then there were people like Jace that immediately rubbed Neal the wrong way - and it was usually because the other party wanted to act like they were so much more important than everyone else in the room. But Neal was willing to give Jace a shot, and hopefully he would work well with the class. He grinned when Pansy used her magic to take out the silverware and the plates. “When has my food ever let you down?” Neal knew the answer (it was never - he was an excellent cook), but if the food didn’t make it up to her he knew a few other things that would. The creme brulee he planned for dessert was one of them. *** “When I'm cross with you,” Pansy said, adding her haughtiest sniff to the end of the statement just to make her point. But she leaned eagerly forward when Neal unveiled the dishes. Unable to help herself, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Well all right, perhaps I'm not that cross.” *** “Even then you know it tastes good,” he muttered under his breath though it was still loud enough that Pansy could hear. He grinned over at her to show that he was joking, and then shook his head. “You know I couldn’t resist tricking you.” It was part of Neal’s nature to be playful, and he knew he was adorable when he did it. Beef Wellington, risotto, and asparagus were doled out for each of them, and Neal couldn’t help but smile when Pansy took a deep breath to actually smell the food. There was a satisfaction to making good food, and having someone he cared about enjoying it. “You’ll be less so after dessert,” he said. *** Pansy gave him a sultry look under her lashes. “Promises, promises.” She was quiet for a time as she allowed herself to just enjoy the deliciousness of the meal Neal had prepared. “Where'd you learn to cook like this? I do all right, but I couldn't possibly come up with anything as good. Even with magic.” For her, that was a huge concession. *** Where did he learn it, exactly? He had just taught himself, really. It was all part of the con. Knowing how to assimilate himself into every role that might cross his path. Besides that it had helped whenever he was conning a woman. It was the one thing that every one of them enjoyed - his meals, and his skills in the bedroom, but that was sometime Pansy knew all too well. “I was a sous chef once for this high-end French restaurant. Learned a few tricks there,” he said as he took a bite. “Plus I practice. Cooking is like art so I enjoy doing it.” He smiled at her, and took a sip of the wine. “I’m glad you like it.” *** Pansy tried to give him a quelling look, but it was ruined by the twitch of her lips. “Of course you are, you impossible man. It's the one thing keeping me from hexing you for real.” It was an empty threat, though, and they both knew it. Pansy used her magic casually when it came to things, but she'd never used it on him, even when they'd been at odds. “My greatest culinary success was a dinner I prepared for my father. He has invited a potential client and his family. I spent all day in the kitchen amongst the house elves, and I made a rosemary and thyme roast quail, stuffed sweet pear and bouncing bulb salad, wild bowtruckle risotto and a brambleberry pie. I had no idea his mother-in-law was terribly allergic to thyme.” *** “Unless it’s in your sleep.” Another mutterance under his breath, followed by a playful wink. He smiled across the table at her as she told her story, and while he didn’t know what bouncing bulb salad was, or had even heard of wild bowtruckle, it all sounded delicious. Even if the intended client’s mother-in-law was allergic. “You’ll have to cook for me sometime then,” he said. “I promise I’m not allergic to thyme.” He took a bite of his beef, and chewed for a few moments. “Though I don’t think you can find all the ingredients here. At least not bowtruckle or brambleberries. But we Muggles do have quail.” *** “It’d be a let down from this,” Pansy warned, gesturing to the meal he’d prepared. “But I’d be willing to give it a try.” She didn’t like cooking enough to do it all the time, but on occasion she didn’t mind putting some effort into it. Especially if she had an experienced sous-chef. “In the meantime…” She peered at the oven. “What’s for dessert?” |