InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Sam Winchester wears makeup"

“To a successful day,” he said raising his bottle up in a salute. And it had been a good day. Jason felt the store opening went well, and now was appropriately behind them so that he could focus on the race in less than five days. He wasn’t nervous, so much as he was eager to get back out there and prove that what he valued hadn’t really changed. Coming back to Quidditch was one thing, but returning to the broom racing circuit -- that was so much more like coming home.

“And no less life changing.” Jason took a pull from his bottle, not quite the same buying rounds he promised, but far more casual. “Sorry, I couldn’t come out with you this morning. You know I would have been there. And I will certainly be there when it actually goes down...assuming I’m still invited.”

Alasdair too lifted his bottle to toast his friend, a big day as it was for both of them. In a way it was a good thing that he’d been on his own for the shopping trip he’d taken, having been able to process things at a slow pace and ask the jeweller the necessary questions. Still, he definitely appreciated Jason’s willingness to be there for him. They did, after all, go way back at this stage of their lives.

“It’s alright, mate. We’ve had our own stuff going on, aye?” he said, patting the jacket pocket where the ring box still lay. He hadn’t wanted to leave it anywhere all day. “And as for the latter… well, we’ll see how it goes come Hogmanay.”

He took a sip from his own bottle, looking contemplative.

“That we did.” Jason grinned again. Even in the uncertain political climate and uncharted waters, there were good days. Great days even if he was being less modest. “But say the word, mate, I will totally be the awkward yet sneaky friend at the engagement to take the pictures.”

Alasdair rolled his eyes dryly, a mild amusement on his face as he sipped his drink. If he could rely on Jason for anything, it would be to keep an appropriately silly tone to proceedings.

“SOME level of privacy may be needed,” he quipped. “We can’t be too presumptuous about how things will go, can we?”

“I don’t know, I mean, aren’t you guys already like an old married couple? Certainly things can’t still be that heated.” His tone was light, but there was some truth there. Jason was pretty sure they had only been official for a year, but from his outsider perspective it held more gravitas.

“There is also your very serious injury to consider.” And if to prove his point, he ever so carefully poked Alasdair’s leg with his toe. “But I can very discreet. Well, as long as I’m not wearing neon pink.”

“We didn’t leave the Portree gala early just because there was a match next day, you know,” Alasdair cackled, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. “Not all live in relationships get boring after five minutes.”

“Fuck off!” Alasdair declared loudly, not aggressive in the least as he swatted lightly at Jason’s foot. “It’s not as bad as it seemed at first glance. Didn’t break the bone so they let me move about as I wanted once it stopped feeling too sore,” he added, patting the spot where the bludger hit. “Besides, it could have been worse,” he added a little more darkly, thinking about Jason’s own teammate and the hit she took to the head.

The mirth from earlier paled for a second. Thinking about Lex worried him for her injury, and for all the other things ongoing this season. “Seven plus hours match.” Jason raised his beer before taking another sip, because at least the first half of the season was over and Montrose was still undefeated. “I would have been useless if I haven’t been training up for the circuit. Our Alasdair held solid -- maybe I ought to be thinking about changing my name- get the girls and the quidditch fame.”

“Maybe I’ll actually be the one proposing to Ada afterall.”

“Nice try mate, but it's definitely me she's into. Hate to disappoint you there,” he grinned, attempting to lighten the mood he'd created with his own but of levity. He took out the ring box from his pocket, flicking open the lid to show Jason. “Besides, I definitely know that this is to her taste, even if I did have to blame disruption to her accessories on the cats.”

Jason immediately set down his beer. He fell forward onto his knees. On the seat nearby, Mandela awoken by the sound, tried to make sense of what was happening. He might not have been a seeker, but carefully took the box from Alasdair’s hands. “Yes. I mean obviously, yes. Or maybe oui.” And with such determination, ignoring the fact that he was the one on his knees and there had not been actual proposal he tried and failed to put the ring on his finger. “Although it seems like a great oversight that it doesn’t come close to fitting.”

Alasdair immediately snatched the ring back, swatting Jason’s fingers with his own (they were, after all, both Chasers and quick with their hands). Securing it carefully back into its box, he raised his eyebrows once he turned back to Jason. “Someone won’t be getting an invite to anything if he isn’t careful.”

“Oi! I take great offense to that!” Jason shouted. The outburst prompted Mandela to stretch, readying for action. “One: I have amazingly steady hands. Two: I didn’t drop anything. Three: you have now utterly and totally broken my heart. I thought we had something special.”

Jason threw himself over the coffee table to his side, doing his best to weep, or at least pantomime weeping. It had to be at least someone what hitting the mark as Mandela came over to nose his side.

Alasdair snorted into his beer, having already replaced the ring box in his pocket. “This stays where I can keep an eye on it,” he replied casually, patting the outside of his jacket. “It cost enough to keep under lock and key from now until Hogmanay at any rate.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle as Mandela approached, and addressed the little dog in the same deadpan way he did his cats. “Mandela, your human is just being silly. He’s fine, but you are being an excellent dog, as always.”

“Absolutely no love from you, Alasdair,” he said with a sigh. Jason sat back, righting himself, so he was properly sitting on the floor, back against the sofa. He pulled Mandela toward him, scratching him behind the ears. “You know, I am not even sure we can still be friends after this. And to think we almost had it all.”

Alasdair was, by now, laughing so hard that he nearly fell off his spot on the sofa. Having finally regained his composure, he placed his beer back on the table and straightened up, making sure his feet didn’t get in Mandela’s way. “Oh no,” he said, deadpan as before. “However shall I cope?”

Slightly more serious in tone, he did smile as he looked around the place. It was nice to be able to just talk about normal things for a change… life had been so serious of late, for all of them.

“Another beer might be a good place to start.” Jason had just been about to move Mandela to get up when he remembered - right, wizard, there wands for that. Reaching for his wand he summoned over two bottles. He popped the top and handed Alasdair the first one.

“To taking the next step,” he said raising his bottle in a salute. “I am honestly very excited for you and Ada and have to say it’s about damn time.”

"To next steps," Alasdair replied, imitating the gesture. "For all of us."