InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "We are the champions!"

“The trouble with the Dundee Cake,” Ainsley said as she waved a nearly full bottle in Georgi’s direction, “is that the recipe only calls for one tablespoon of malt whisky, which leaves us with the following conundrum: but what do we do with the rest of the bottle?”

The moussaka was in the oven, and the kitchen already smelled amazing. Ainsley had already snuck a dram or two, which normally wouldn’t have been all that much, except she hadn’t really eaten anything since lunch during practice that day. So there she was in the middle of Georgi’s kitchen, feeling a little giggly and trying to recall the exact ingredients in the very simple cake she’d planned on teaching him to make.

Georgi hadn't smiled much since Malkograd, but Ainsley was funny and cheerful and had nothing to do with any of his current problems, and doing something as simple as cooking with her made him feel lighter, like he could forget about curses and family for a while. He smiled now, taking the bottle from her.

"I know what to do with it," he informed her solemnly, and tapped his wand against the bottle to put a generous portion into his own cup. He lifted it to her. "Cheers, Ainsley. And thank you for this. I have not cooked much lately and it's nice to do it with you."

She grinned over at him, and poured out another measure for herself, since she was holding the bottle anyway. “A Beater after my own heart,” she said with an accompanying wink. “A heart-beater, if you will.”

There was a very brief pause before Ainsley rolled her eyes. “Friends don't let friends make terrible puns.” She leaned a hip against the kitchen counter, returning his salute with one of her own. “Really, I should be thanking you. It's nice to… get out of my own space for a bit.”

He nodded soberly, even if he didn't feel the same -- his little house and the Montrose pitch were the only places he wanted to be right now, places he wouldn't have to see anyone but his teammates and friends and Ernie. "You are very welcome in my little house," he told her. "I'm sorry it took me so long to give you an invitation. But, of course, the season must be busy for you, too." Georgi sipped at his whisky consideringly, watching Ainsley. "Where do you live?" he inquired.

She waved away his apology with an accompanying nod of agreement, but didn't feel the need to elaborate. ‘Busy’ was one word for it. ‘Cluster fuck’ was another, and probably far more apt, but she wasn't about to dump that on him. She rather liked Georgi, after all. It was, perhaps, this train of thought that led her to almost quip, ‘In hell,’ but she kept herself from it, if only barely.

“The Isle of Raasay, just off the coast from the Portree area. I found this little Gardeners cottage that used to belong to a larger estate after I traded teams. It's not without its… eccentricities, but I adore it.” She glanced around his kitchen. “What about you? How did you find this place?”

"My friend helped me find it," Georgi answered, his mood brightening as it always did when his mind was on Ernie. "When I first came to Scotland, I was living with my coach and his family. But my friend Ernie helped me look for a little house to rent, and I liked this one best out of the ones he found for me. It's small, but it's the right size for me and Drago." He nodded to his salamander familiar, who'd settled down to nap in the fire. "We have been very comfortable here. If I stay with the Magpies for next season, I hope I can take this place for another year."

“Not… Macmillan?” She said slowly, but she didn’t give him a chance to answer before barrelling on, rapid-fire. “Clever fellow, rather adorable, with glasses? Clever’s not right. Dead brilliant. But that would make sense, what with the Montrose connection. I dunno why, but I’m glad he’s your friend, if indeed, ‘tis he. Who knows, I might be completely off the mark, and this is some other bloke called Ernie who runs a repair shop two towns over. I hope not, though. Ernie’s amazing. He helped save my life once.”

Maybe… she’d had a bit more to drink than she originally thought.

Georgi raised his eyebrows at her, a little startled and a little pink. "Yes -- Ernie Macmillan. He's… a very good friend to me. And he is brilliant. But I didn't know that he has saved your life. How…" He hesitated, not sure whether it was okay to ask about. "Was it during the war?" he asked, quiet and solemn.

Ainsley visibly winced. “Bit more recent than that.” She poured herself another measure of whisky, but didn’t drink it yet. “Did he tell you about his adventures in the Macmillan Priory at all?”

He frowned uncertainly, pulling his eyebrows together in concern. "Do you mean months ago, when Mel was hurt? I didn't know that you were there, Ainsley."

For a moment, she contemplated her glass, and then carefully set it aside. Her mouth twitched as she was torn between laughing at the absurdity of it all and the creeping horror, the certainty that it wasn't over. Ainsley gave him a shallow nod. “Spent a day in Mungo’s after for my troubles- cursed, see? It started nearly a month before, when we first found the book, but it didn't get really bad ‘til we went back, when it attacked Mel as well. Ernie was just trying to get me out of there, but I s'pose the damage had already been done.”

The word cursed had Georgi straightening up in his seat and reaching out to touch her arm, worriedly, his own whisky forgotten on the table in front of him. "Are you okay?" he asked her.

“I’m… something,” she confessed. “Not quite ‘okay’, but… finding a new normal. I still get tired a lot. All the time, really. And… I have these dreams, almost every night.” Her lips quirked into a wry smile. “And I constantly want to snog Mel, which is a problem, since his cousin is my boyfriend. They all know about it, know it’s not really me.”

Ainsley sighed and grabbed her drink. Still, she didn’t toss it back in one go like she wanted to. “I’m just trying not to let it affect my playing for right now. Get through the end of the season with my head in one piece, if I can.” She turned a contrite look on Georgi. “Sorry to unload like that. Especially since we were right in the middle of extolling the virtues of one Ernie Macmillan, which is a much better topic anyway.”

Already surprised and concerned by the idea of a curse that made Ainsley want to kiss Mel, Georgi was pink in the cheeks to begin with, and grew pinker at the idea of talking about Ernie with her. He drank down the rest of his whiskey without really tasting it, and he set the glass down gently. "Please don't be sorry. I -- I'm almost happy to find out that you have this curse," he admitted, watching her carefully. "Because I also have been cursed, when I went back to Bulgaria. I don't know exactly what this curse has done to me, and of course it's a bad thing, but now I'm glad that I'm not… alone." He squeezed Ainsley's arm softly. "Thank you."

Confusion knit her brows together, because she couldn’t comprehend why someone would be happy she’d been cursed- she had a fraction of a second to wonder if it might be a language barrier issue- but then he went on, and she slid seamlessly into being horror-struck. Ainsley sank into the chair next to his at the table, without looking and almost missing it altogether. She set her glass down rather blindly- a minor miracle that she even managed to get it onto the table- and leaned toward him. “What? I don’t und- how? Why? Georgi, what happened?”

He looked down at the table in front of him, curling his hands loosely around each other. "Well... I had problems with my family because of some things I've done since I came here. My family are pureblood," he added, and peeked up at Ainsley to be sure she understood. "I had to go back to Malkograd, my family's home, to meet with my father. And I wouldn't agree to do what he told me, so he has disowned me, and cursed me." Georgi touched the spot in the middle of his chest where the spell had struck him; he'd woken up a few times from nightmares about that day, struggling to breathe, feeling the phantom pain of it all over again. "I have seen a healer who is a curse specialist, and also my friend in Malkograd is trying to find out what it will do to me, but we haven't had luck yet. So, like you, I'm just trying not to let it affect the season and my team." She looked so upset on his behalf that Georgi tried to smile at her. "It's okay," he told her. "We are both going to be okay. Right?"

Just as he had reached out her, she moved her hand to cover one of his wrists. She didn’t bother to hide the shock and then the anger at what had been done to him. His own father? Hers was a product of an unfortunate accident, but Georgi- that had been deliberate. Who did that? Who the fuck had the gall? Emotions boiled inside of her, sudden rage and frustration making a heady cocktail that left her feeling a little dizzy.

Ainsley watched him, his quiet resignation, his attempts to mollify her, and some of that fury cooled into something she could articulate. “That’s bloody awful. I-I can’t even imagine.” She turned a rueful smile toward him, giving his wrist a bit of a squeeze as he had her arm moments before. “Bit of a shite club to be in, really. But you’re absolutely right. We’re going to be okay. Can’t let some barmy curse ruin everything we’ve built for ourselves, right?”

The squeeze to his wrist was more comforting than he could say, and he gave her a grateful half-smile in return. "Yeah," he agreed. "You're right. This is why there are cursebreakers and healers, and friends to look out for us. Ernie--" He stopped and flushed, because he hadn't meant to talk about him, but everything seemed to come back around to his boyfriend. "He's been a very good friend to me with all this, looking after me and so," he finished after a pause. He squeezed Ainsley's hand in return, and then stood to check on his moussaka even though there was no way it was finished cooking yet, crouching in front of the oven while he cracked it open, so he could pretend his pink cheeks were due to the heat. "I hope you also have someone looking after you."

There was something arresting in the look on Georgi’s face, one that raised another memory through even the haze of an alcohol soaked night. It was really no business of hers, and she really shouldn’t be asking, but the curiosity burned off any tact or consideration she might have otherwise shown. It tracked, in her mind, the Look on their faces, the way one seemed reluctant to speak of the other- though Ernie never named names. Even though the idea was a brand new one, Ainsley couldn’t help but reflect on it with more and more certainty. Even if he denied it, she wasn’t sure she’d believe him. “Georgi,” she said slowly to his back, “are you and Ernie more than just friends? Are you… together?”

For a moment Georgi stayed silent and very still, blood rushing in his ears while those words ran through his mind like if he heard them enough times he could find a way to avoid answering. But his English was so good after all these months in Scotland that he couldn't pretend not to understand, and there was no way to misinterpret her question, anyway.

He stood up carefully, closing the oven again, and turned to face Ainsley. He couldn't look at her face, so he fixed his eyes on the table instead, the reassuringly familiar salt and pepper bowls and the dishes he'd laid out. "Yeah," he said. His muscles were tight with nerves; he didn't know Ainsley that well, after all, and even if he felt close to her right now over the curse business, that didn't mean his secret was safe with her. "I am -- we are. But it's not… I know you are dating his cousin, but his family doesn't know, and -- I hope you will not tell." Georgi chanced a glance at her face to see how she was reacting, hoping not to see disgust, at least. "Please."

At first, Ainsley couldn’t help the broad grin that sprang to her face, but it quickly tempered into something much more sympathetic and understanding as the silence stretched and Georgi looked more and more uncomfortable. She stood after he’d finally looked at her, made his plea, and approached him slowly like one would a skittish creature. “No, of course I won’t,” she told him solemnly. The bit about Peggy from Circe made more sense now, too, but she wasn’t about to bring that up at a time like this. “You have my word.”

She reached out to touch his arm. “For what it’s worth, it’s pretty obvious that he’s over the moon for you. Even if I didn’t really know it was you at the time.”

His tense muscles relaxed a little at the touch, but he was still too worried to smile. "Thank you. I didn't know he has talked to you about this. For me, it's not…" Georgi shrugged helplessly. "It's not easy to talk about it. But he is everything to me." He flushed further, dropping his eyes again, feeling raw and exposed but somehow lighter and freer for saying it out loud to someone else. "I never thought that love was something that mattered so much for a happy life. I was supposed to be married to someone who was a friend, and I thought it would be okay. But now, since everything that's happened this year, I can't imagine spending my life with someone I don't feel this way about. You know?"

“He didn’t. Talk to me about it. Just the opposite, really. He wouldn’t tell me. I just inferred. A leap of logic. But… I’m happy for you, I really am. I’m glad you’ve found him.” She smiled at him, but there was something that hinted at sadness about it, although she nodded faintly to his last point. “I think I might be starting to? To know? I’ve never put much stock in marriage for myself, but lately?”

A self-deprecating laugh bubbled out of her. “I can come to conclusions about everyone else but myself. Seems ironic, in a way.” A beat, and then she frowned. “Is that why your dad-” she waved a hand at his chest. “Sorry, sorry. You don’t have to answer that. Merlin, I really wouldn’t mind if you told me to shut my gob. More I keep on, more I just shove my foot right in there.”

Georgi shook his head at her in dismissal of the apology. "It's okay. No, my father -- Nikolay -- he doesn't know about this. If he did…" He shrugged grimly. "I guess it's a good thing I can only be disowned once. My problems with my family were about blood purism and old, terrible rules, and my brother, who is a squib." He managed a brief smile. "But it was Ernie who helped me have the courage to stand up to them and live my own life. So in some way maybe it's about him, too. But… I would rather have him and some curse and no family, than not have him and follow those old ways of living."

Ainsley found herself smiling again. She couldn't really help it, not when faced with Georgi’s faith and certainty, though the mentions of family exclusions and purity belief threatened to pull her face into a scowl. Once again, she was reminded of the felicity of her own family ties and upbringing, how she was a relative anomaly in the pure blood societal construct of the region. “You're amazing, did you know that?” She pressed her hand into his arm again before dropping it to her side. “You have a strength of character and belief that can be so rare in even the best of us. And you've found someone to share that with, and that's just… incredible.”

Her lips pursed a little, face clouding somewhat. “Which is not to say that this was at all a desirable outcome. No one deserves to be cursed. Well, okay, you could make an argument that some people could stand to be on the business end of a nasty curse, but that's down to karma.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Don't mind me, nattering on. And now, to awkwardly segue- it smells delicious.”

Georgi was already flushed and shaking his head, dismissing the kind things she was saying about him. The compliments to his food were easier to take, so he seized on them gratefully. "Thank you," he answered. "I hope you'll like this moussaka. It's one of my favorite dishes." He glanced at the timer and got up again, this time levitating the dish out of the oven and setting it carefully on the stovetop. "I think this is done now. The top looks right. It should rest a little and get just warm before we eat it. Maybe we can make this cake?" He smiled over at Ainsley, happy to get back to lighter topics than curses and family problems and his no-longer-so-secret relationship. "If there is enough left of your whiskey to put in the batter."

Having finally remembered the dram she'd poured for herself in the midst of darker topics, Ainsley had just taken a measured sip when Georgi added his little tease at the end. She nearly choked on it in her abrupt laughter. “Just for that,” she said, when she had breath again enough to do so, “I should just bake the cake myself, and take my Dundee secrets to the grave. I mean, I'll still let you enjoy a piece or twelve. I'm not a monster, after all.”