Who: Ainsley Galbraith, Roger Davies What: St David’s Day Drinking and Fantastic Choices When: 1 March 2000, Evening Where: Roger’s Place (Kilmarnock) Warnings: Whinging About Boys
“This isn’t a match, this is ritual slaughter! I don’t think I can listen to anymore. We should see if we can find some music. Merlin, even Celestina Warbeck would be preferable at this point, and I’m pretty sure her music makes my ears bleed- no offense, if you’re a fan.”
Ainsley had been a Roger’s place for a couple of hours at that point, and helped him demolish most of a box of wine, a full tin of chocolate dipped shortbread biscuits, and about a quarter of a bottle of firewhisky. She was perched on his couch, and waved a hand in the direction of his wireless, expression falling into a truly pathetic pout.
“Haha, Celestina is banned in this house.” Roger set down his wine glass and slowly got to his feet, ignoring how the room seemed to tilt slightly once he was upright in favour of navigating around the coffee table and heading for the wireless. “Kestrels should just catch the snitch and be done with it. They must be knackered by now.” Twisting the tuning knob, he wrinkled his nose as various music like sounds emanated from the speaker, before he found one that wasn’t too classical or saccharine. “Huh… better?”
Waffle had wasted little time in stealing his seat on the sofa, so Ro settled down a little nearer to Ainsley this time and turned to look at her, “no pouting. Here…” Emptying the last of the wine into their glasses, he passed Ainsley hers and picked up his own. “What was I saying?”
“It would be the most humane thing to do, yes,” Ainsley said as Roger fiddled with the wireless, and then beamed as a song she liked began to play. “Brilliant, much.”
She held back a laugh at the puppy, and leaned over to ruffle the fur on the top of his head before Roger came back and claimed a new spot. Once he’d settled in- after topping off the their glasses, bless- she used the opportunity to press her shoulder up against his arm. “I believe you were telling me more about your current lad troubles- something about Cecil version two and someone else you may or may not be seeing currently?”
As Ainsley leaned against him, his arm moved to wrap around her shoulders, letting her get comfy. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he suspected that actually they had been talking about her lad troubles, but he would allow the diversion this once. “Rafael, you met him at my Birthday.” Upon hearing the familiar name, Waffle lifted his head, looking towards the front door. “No, he’s not here, pup,” Ro mumbled into his glass before draining half of its contents.
“Alex. Honestly, I have no clue what to do about him. If he does get the position he’s after at Montrose, I’ll be doomed to nervous wreck-dom for the rest of my career.” The remaining half glass was emptied and he set it back on the table, reaching instead for the whiskey chaser and taking a tiny sip.
It was Waffle’s reaction more than Roger’s that felt truly telling, and Ainsley studied the Chaser’s profile as best she could through the growing haze of a truly ridiculous amount of alcohol. This she knew she would feel tomorrow, and a part of her was actually looking forward to the experience, because it would be another sign that things were (hopefully) returning to normal. “Aye, he was well fit, him.” A wicked, teasing grin lifted the edges of her lips. “Was he your present, then? Could do worse.”
She sobered a bit, figuratively, and drained her own glass, but held off on the whiskey for now. “Alex,” she said, like she was trying the name on for size, testing it out to see if she liked it at all. “Is it just that he looks like Cecil that’s the distraction?” She snuggled in closer to him, and reached up to put her hand over the one that was around her shoulder. She hated to ask, she really did, but she felt like it might be better if it was out there in the open, so she went on quietly, “Roger, how deep does this go? Is this just infatuation, or are there real feelings involved?”
Because in the end, it just felt cruel to use the word love.
A quiet laugh escaped him at Ainsley’s positive description of Rafa. There was no doubt the Brazilian was fit. But he was also charming, thoughtful, good company and -if his sister was to be believed- a heartbreaker. Leaning his head back against the sofa, he stared up at the ceiling, allowing his vision to go hazy before trying to focus on one of the beams above them. “I did bring him home to unwrap after the party, yes. But it can’t go anywhere. He’s MG’s Brother-in-Law, so we’re not public and well, sooner or later he’s going to leave.”
His head felt too heavy to lift, instead he just turned slightly so he could look at Ainsley for a moment, a tiny smile on his face as she tried sounding out Alex’s name. “Mmm it’s purely a visual thing. Personality wise they’re completely different.” Cuddling her a little closer to his side, Ro huffed out a sigh at her follow up question. He knew she was asking about Cecil, but Rafa could very well fit that question too. “Which one?”
Shaking his head a little as he lifted it from where he’d been resting, Roger took another sip of his whiskey, savouring the burn and silently grateful for the full stock of hangover potions and pepper up in his medicine cabinet. “Cecil … it’s impossible, I know that; and cruel, unhealthy, all sorts of bad things. But I can’t help it, even if he doesn’t feel the same, and really why would he? I’m just some random athlete, not a poet or a … a Knight.”
Ainsley can’t help the giggle that comes out at the visual Roger unwittingly supplied, but it died quickly as he continued, and she frowned toward him, watching him. She said nothing else, even through the question she took as rhetorical, listening with a heart that was growing heavier and heavier with each word. But it was the last one that made her stiffen, caused her to murmur, “The Raven Knight.”
She’d spent many sleepless nights in Cecil’s company lately, usually using herself as a proxy for the dictation of his poetry and prose. They’d tried a number of dictaquills and Quick Quotes, but none of them lasted for very long for whatever reason. In a way, she had been bartering his silence with her offer to help him put his thoughts down on parchment. And suddenly the knight motiff made so much more sense- and made her want to cry.
“Oh, Roger, no.” It came out as a small moan. “He does. He does feel the same way. And you’re right, it’s not fair at all, and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know what I can do about it.” Ainsley turned into his side and wrapped her arm around him, hugging him tight. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I wish I’d never asked you to help me move. This is all my fault.”
Dark brows knitted together momentarily at her whispered words completely confused for a moment, trying to figure out their meaning. “The Raven Knight?”
Ainsley’s tone had him out of his confused thoughts immediately and he set down his glass, concerned that he’d said something amiss. As she continued a look of surprise came to his face instead, shock in his eyes at the thought that Cecil could feel the same way he did. Then sudden overwhelming sadness which had him turning into Ainsley’s embrace and hugging her back tightly.
“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. You weren’t to know, how could you?” Blinking slowly, he held onto Ainsley while he tried to process, stroking her back slightly in an effort to soothe her worry about him. Evidently he had become a bother, even though that was the last thing he’d wanted. “I don’t know that there’s anything you can do. Or that I can do for that matter. I’ll try my best not to let my own feelings show when I visit. To be a friend. Nothing more.”
Waffle wriggled closer then, leaning his head on his master’s thigh as he sensed the mood in the room shift and letting out a small whine. “Time to change the subject, pup says so.”
She buried her face against his chest and tried not to cry, because that was incredibly unhelpful. She wasn’t the one with feelings for a ghost, which if that wasn’t the very definition of unrequited then she didn’t know what was. It made her ache with sadness, but also filled her with so much frustration that she just wanted to scream and throw things. Gutting the Priory’s kitchen had helped a little with that in her own life- for a time.
It didn’t last.
Glancing down at the puppy, Ainsley freed her hand and stroked it along his furry back. “Sorry, Waffle. Your human and his friend are trying to show the world what not to do with their love lives.”
A soft smile came to his lips as Ainsley pet his dog, glad that she had come up from hiding against his chest for a moment at least. “He’s far too young to be thinking about having a love life. But you’re right, his human is a very bad example.”
Stroking Ainsley's hair absently, he fixed her with as sensible a look he could manage in his present state. “So, Mel and Fraser. What's all that about? You need another one to keep up with me though.”
The joke wasn't his best, but if it could draw Ains back from the brink of tears, he'd consider it a good one.
“Can't really help your heart,” she mumbled in response to Waffles’ romantic eligibility, and then proceeded to misunderstand Roger’s last statement entirely as she twisted a little awkwardly in his lap- which was good, because having her hair played with tended to be her downfall into Very Bad Decisions- for her latest shot. It was only as she straightened again that the meaning dawned on her. “Shot or lad? Because I could do both.”
She tossed it back with a grimace, and then immediately poured herself another. “Need another for this muck.” She raised the amber coloured liquid to him. “Here's to a lion called Laddie,” she toasted with a wry, knowing smile.
“No, I suppose you can’t.” Roger replied, biting the inside of his cheek as Ainsley shifted in his lap and hoping she wouldn’t decide to be a fidget, because that would get awkward, fast. His eyebrows quirked slightly as Ains reached for another shot, smiling a little at the misunderstanding. “Both is good.”
He lifted his glass at the toast, flushing a tiny bit pink as she gave him that knowing smile. He wasn’t surprised that she knew about him and Tor. They were friends after all. “To Laddie.”
Knocking back his drink, he reached for the bottle, just about managing to pour himself a glass, “Was this at Hogwarts? But you still like him?”
“Love,” she corrected, stealing the bottle from him and pouring yet another after she’d swallowed the maybe-it-was-bad-that-she’d-lost-count shot. They were out of wine, so this was the natural progression. “Did. Do. Different. You got to kiss him. Presumably. I’m stuck with What-If, and Could-Have-Been.” She studied the glass that was perched in her fingers. “But he has a someone. And I have a someone. And I can’t stop thinking about someone. There are too many somes and not enough one in this equation.”
A laugh tittered out of Ainsley. “I think Rowena would be proud of that particular riddle.”
“Love,” Roger parroted, a sympathetic look in his eyes, fingers loosening on the bottle so it could be stolen from his grasp. As she continued to explain about Tor, a guilty feeling settled over him and he found himself apologising, “I wouldn't have if I’d known.”
As Ainsley's focus turned to her glass, Roger carefully smoothed a lock of her hair back behind her ear. “Far too many somes,” he agreed, a soft laugh escaping him at the riddle comment. “Which of the two available ones you want to be the one? Do you find that you think more about the one that isn't presently your someone?”
For a second, she was confused by what he'd said, and then she looked at him, slightly aghast. “No, no, nononono, that's not what I meant at all! I'm glad you did. You deserve that happiness! I just have shite timing.” A bitter laugh. “And isn't that just the tragic story of my life.”
She couldn't resist the urge to lean into Roger’s hand as she closed her eyes, and tried to ignore her current misery. His small laugh brought her out of it, and she tossed back the shot she'd been holding, and then set the glass on the coffee table, where a refill wouldn't be as immediately tempting. “I don't… I don't know if-”
Ainsley huffed out a breath, frustrated at her scattered thoughts and inability to grasp them long enough to make them into something coherent. “He saved my life- or close enough to it- so I can't help but wonder if that's all it is. I kind of… I kind of need it to be just that. Because Fraser’s been amazing, and they're best friends, and doesn't this make me the worst kind of person that I just can't seem to shake this.”
She grabbed the shot glass again and poured another with a disgusted grimace. “And-and worse, what if-" she hesitated, because she hadn't said this to anyone, barely thought about it herself, because even the possibility was unbearable- “what if it's not even just that? What if this is actually still the curse?”
“It was one night… and morning. But we stayed friends, which is honestly the best thing. He's an excellent wingman.” Roger noted the way Ainsley leaned into his touch, and a fond little smile came to his lips. She was one of his best friends, actually she was his best friend. A spot that he'd thought would be empty forever after he lost Digs. So if he could comfort Ains with something as simple as stroking her hair, he’d do so. “You deserve all the happiness too, love.”
The scattered thoughts were something he recognised well, damn all boys (himself included) for being able to mess with perfectly reasonable minds in such a way. “It doesn't make you the worst kind of person at all. Has Mel done anything else that would point to the possibility of him feeling more for you than just a friend? Fraser is a decent chap, from what I know of him anyway.”
As another shot was poured, Ro frowned the tiniest bit, he was definitely behind now. Maybe they should eat something? Holding his glass up for a refill, he chewed on his lip as Ainsley mentioned the curse. “How much do you know about the curse? I mean... It is a possibility that could be linking you to him somehow. Or at least influencing your feelings towards him.”
A sigh that started just about in the region of her soul was pulled out of her just at the mention of Mel’s name. The reaction was sad and tired and hopeful and annoying and wistful, and she despised it with every fiber of her being. At this point, she was practically halfway in Roger’s lap, although she wasn’t entirely sure when or how she’d come to be there. Waffle nosed at her hand, so she accommodated the pup by reaching it out and giving him a good scratch behind the ears. “I have no idea if he does. And I’m not about to ask him, because I’m not sure I’ll like the answer either way.”
Thoroughly dejected, she let her head fall onto his chest, but at least had enough presence of mind to keep it from hitting hard. And speaking of hitting hard- Ainsley froze, because what Roger said made so much sense that she wasn’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to her before. “There were… memories trapped in the book. Just kids, really- a boy and a girl. They- the curse, when it was taking over…” She furrowed her brow and leaned away from Roger, face etched in ruminating silence as she tried to puzzle through the cloudy fog that was occluding her thoughts. “Maybe it needed two. Maybe it wanted two.”
Ainsley looked up at Roger, and there was real fear in her eyes. “Roger, what if this thing did something to my soul?”
The sigh was probably one of the most surprising happenings that evening. He’d never heard a sigh that was so deep and filled with conflicting emotions before. He definitely never expected to hear it from Ainsley. Especially not in connection to a bloke whom she wasn’t currently dating. Throwing back his last shot, he put the glass down beside him on the sofa, and puzzled over Ains’ problem. “I understand not wanting to know the answer, it’d make things really complicated if he does.”
As she leaned her head against his chest, Ro automatically started to stroke her hair again, holding her that little bit more securely, wanting her to feel safe. Alarm bells went off in his head as soon as Ainsley mentioned memories trapped in the book and he frowned, listening carefully as his friend elaborated. “Did Mel touch it too? If so, the book caught it’s boy and girl.” The only way they would get to the bottom of this was to try and pick apart what the curse was responsible for. Was it pulling at Mel as it was Ainsley?
“Then we’ll have to find a way to reverse it,” he sounded a lot calmer than he felt, the idea that the curse was damaging Ainsley’s soul was unthinkable, but unfortunately quite possible. “Even if that means raiding the Restricted Section at the library.”
She felt her head move in the affirmative, and couldn’t quite stop it now that it was going. Distantly, she wondered exactly how much she’d had to drink. “When he grabbed it, yes, when it was trying to come after me. He grabbed it, and it bit him, just like it bit me.” Ainsley sagged miserably. She was coming dangerously close to a full on pout. “But why did it have to be Mel? My life would be so much less complicated if it had been Fraser.”
A watery sort of laugh left her as she imagined trying to sneak back into Hogwarts. “You’d brave Madam Pince for me?” Leaning forward again, she rested her head on Roger’s shoulder. “Thank you. Even if it’s just for listening to me whinge. I hate talking about this. The last thing I need is for people to worry about me, and that’s all I seem to be capable of doing lately. Now I get to add you to the growing list.”
A cold nose poked into her side, and she edged away enough so that Waffle could squirm his way between them. “Waffle apparently says he’s tired of all this sad talk.” Something new and wicked stole across her gaze as she looked up at Roger. “I think Waffle wants to hear more about this Brazilian recruiter his human’s been seeing.”
When Ainsley confirmed what he feared, Roger's frown grew deeper as concern filled him, along with a sense of dread on her behalf. The book had bitten both of them, if it had drawn blood then the curse could be a particularly nasty kind of blood bond or similar. He didn't voice the thought out loud, and instead said, “Fraser should have been quicker off the mark.” He quickly changed his expression to a careful smile, hoping she would realise he was only teasing.
A little amused look came to his eyes as Hogwarts’ formidable librarian was mentioned. He had managed to escape any serious run-ins with Madam Pince, but he knew a lot of students weren't so lucky. “I would indeed.” Pressing a brief kiss to Ainsley's forehead, he smiled, “You're welcome, and this works both ways, you’ve listened to me whining about things tonight too!”
Waffle’s intervention was perfectly timed, though the wicked glint in Ainsley’s eyes let him know he was about to be grilled. Chuckling, the chaser ruffled his fingers through his puppy’s fur, “ah, yes the Brazilian, Waffle already knows quite a lot about his new best friend. But I’m sure he won’t mind me talking more about him, just so long as I don’t mention he might l-e-a-v-e soon.”
“Keeping’s not his specialty, so I can't really fault him there. More’s the pity, that.” She offered Roger a tired smile; she really didn't blame any of the Macmillan blokes. It was just down to colossal bad luck. Her smile deepened at his show of affection, and she wound her arms around his neck to give him a hug that was soon interrupted by a nosy puppy.
She made a show of putting her hands over Waffle’s fluffy ears, and affecting a wounded expression. It didn't last long, since the pup shook his head to dislodge them and huffed at her. “Sorry, puppy. I was just trying to spare you.” A prolonged scratch behind his ears seemed to appease him as she continued to address his human. “D’you have any idea how long?”
She fixed him with a very serious look. “How safe is your heart?”
He returned the hug, holding Ainsley tight until his nosy puppy interrupted again and Ainsley turned her attention to the little collie instead. For someone that wasn’t really a dog person his best friend certainly seemed to be charmed by the fluff ball. Just as Rafa had been. “I’m not sure,” he sighed, “he’s over here on business as well as visiting family. Then there’s Kai trying out for football clubs, Rafa’s staying for those, moral support and all…”
Roger fell silent for a moment, the more he thought about having to say goodbye to Rafael, the more uncomfortable he felt. Neither of them had meant for it to be anything more than just fun. But somehow he’d grown more than fond of the older man. It wasn’t just physical anymore. But he knew -had been told outright- that Rafa wasn’t the sort to settle, so their parting was inevitable. He just hoped they would remain friends and in contact.
“Do I look like I’m easily heartbroken?” Roger twisted his fingers into Waffle’s fur again, mulling over the words. “You know, Rafael’s sister said almost the exact same thing.”
Ainsley chewed on her bottom lip for a long moment before reaching up and trailing her fingers along his cheek in open affection. “Just because you might not look it, doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Sounds like we’re both worried about you. If he’s l-e-a-v-i-n-g soon, I worry you might be in so deep that he takes a piece of you with him before you know it.”
He tilted his head into the gentle touch the tiniest bit, a soft smile coming to his face, “I know it can happen. I appreciate it, but I don’t want you to worry too much. If, or when, he goes home, he might take a piece of me with him, or he might not. Either way, I’ll have to deal with it.” Ro licked his lips, trying not to think too hard about being in deep. “I like him a lot.”
Darting in, she kissed his cheek, then leaned back again. “I'm sure he likes you a lot too.” She smiled at him, but then it turned impish. “I mean, what's not to like? You're well fit. I'd snog you if I wasn't cursed.”
Touching his cheek where he’d been kissed, Ro felt a blush creep up the sides of his neck, “Thank you.” A snort of disbelief escaped him before he could stop it at her next words and Waffle gave him a startled look because of it. “Well, so are you and I’d let you if you were single.”
Ainsley giggled- yup, giggled- and grabbed the forgotten bottle. She wasted no time in pouring them both a shot, and handed him one. “To broken hearts, cursed heads, and universally bad timing.”
Her giggle made him grin and he took the offered shot glass, setting the empty one by his side onto the table out of harm’s way. “Broken hearts, cursed heads and terrible timing!” He tapped his glass to hers before knocking back the firewhiskey.
Having put back her own, she gave Waffle a pat down his back and slid out of Roger's lap. She contemplated the empty glass for a moment, and smiled slowly, softly. “Better yet, to good friends and the best company.”