Who: Lex Yaxley and Angus Campbell What: Drinking, talking, not-talking, a run of hilariously improbable bad luck (it is a Friday-the-thirteenth, after all). When: Super backdated to Friday night, October 13, 1999. Where: The Naughty Niffler, their once and future pub; then a special surprise guest location! Warnings: Language, flirting, chair-breaking, all the drunken feels. Also, it's pretty long, oops.
Getting a drink with Lex after training wasn’t new, but it had been a while -- more than two years by Angus’s count. His memories of the time before Azkaban were tattered and dulled, but not so far that he didn’t remember they’d had good times back then. Of course, that was before Lex had got together with their captain, so this time it wasn’t going to end in either of their beds; they were still mates, here to celebrate Angus’s return to the pitch, and right now that was plenty for him.
“So,” he said, lifting his glass of firewhisky to Lex with a grin from behind his thicket of a beard. “Here’s to gettin’ the auld gang back together.”
Ever since Jason and Angus' comments on the journals, Lex had been quieter than normal - at practice, at social events, in the locker room. She'd gone out with the team after the match at Coach's insistence but the smiles and laughs hadn't quite reached her eyes. The problem with playing with the same group of people for years is that they tended to know your tics. And things seemed… different now… broken in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on. But this was Angus, whom she believed would protect her off the pitch in the same way she protected him on the pitch.
Lex clinked her own glass against Angus' before throwing it back and refilling. Years of professional quidditch had given her a tolerance to rival any of the lads. She gave him a grin, because she had missed having him on the pitch with her. "Now we just need to get you and Cap in the air in the same time," she said with a grin. "Then we'll be unstoppable. Ada did a hell of a job though."
“Our French lass was brilliant,” he agreed. “Reckon that’s no surprise, Quiberon’s always had quality players, and she’s a firecracker, that one. But you’re right, it’d be pure barry to fly with Cap again. Wonder if that’ll ever happen, all of us back together at once.” He tossed back his whisky, determined to match Lex drink for drink. She had an iron will and a liver to match, but she was half his size and he wasn’t going to be outdone.
Angus leaned an elbow on the bar and his cheek on his hand, half-turned to face her. “I meant it when I said thanks for looking out for my brother,” he added. “I know I don’t have to worry too much about Len when you’re on the pitch.”
"As long as you and Cap keep from getting injured, I'd say it's bound to happen. Coach'd be a right fool if he didn't start you more after that game. You were fucking amazing, Angus." Lex raised a glass to him this time and tossed it back.
She gave him a look that clearly meant no thanks were necessary and waved her hand. "Oi. None of that. Magpie till I die. You know I'll always bust my ass to protect all of you. Not going to let one of my own get hurt." Which is why the first game where Micah got injured had rattled her because she'd been indirectly responsible for it. And why the current situation bothered her. She would always take a bludger - or ten - for any of her teammates and to have them distance themselves, to feel this rift… made her second guess everything. She thought of the conversation she'd had with Fraser after the game and hurriedly poured herself another shot. There was a good chance she wouldn't be in a state to apparate home tonight.
“Oi yourself,” Angus laughed, and reached out to catch her hand on the glass. “Give me a chance to catch up, darlin’.” He eyed her consideringly. “Are you in a hurry to get yourself sozzled? Reckon we’ll get there soon enough, no need to rush.”
Despite his tendency to overlook the subtler details in all things, Angus wasn’t completely unobservant, and Lex was off. Had been for a while, he thought. He smiled over at her, concerned and careful. “Are you all right, Lex? If something’s bothering you, well, I’m not the canniest bloke in the room, but I’ve got two ears and I can listen.”
"Are you that old and slow that you can't keep up with me any more? Just say the word and I'll go easy on you. Do we need to be watering down our whiskey, kitten?" An arched eyebrow accompanied the teasing.
The question took her off guard. She'd assumed they could all just ignore it. That was the simpler method and she'd been nearly flawless on the pitch the other day. Sure, she hadn't been herself, but maybe that was for the best. She stared at her whiskey for awhile in silence, trying to figure out how to answer his question. She'd never been good at talking about feelings. She picked at the damp napkin under her drink. "It's…." she began before pausing and trying to collect herself again. "S'nothing to be done about it and s'not affecting my game…" It came out more defensive than she intended and she downed another glass in defense.
Angus peered at her from under his shaggy hair for a minute, and then shrugged and tossed back his own next drink. If she wasn’t slowing down, then he wouldn’t either; and if she didn’t want to talk about what was going on, well, that was up to her. “All right,” he agreed, cheerfully enough. “And you’re damn right it’s not affectin’ your game! You were gorgeous out there, love. Reckon we’ve both still got it, aging bones or no.”
He grinned and rapped his glass on the bar, refilling it from the bottle with a flick of his fingers. “Though waterin’ the whisky might not be the worst idea tonight. My brothers might be expecting me to help with setting up the big birthday party tomorrow, and I’d be better off if I wasn’t still reekin’ then. You’re coming to our party, yeah? You and Micah?”
"Eh, it wasn't me though," she admitted in reference to the Wimbourne game with a shrug. There'd been nothing noteworthy in her opinion about her playing. No terrible mistakes, but no amazing odd-defying plays either. It had been a different style of play and it had felt like a drill - patience, precise, nearly no flair or style. It was a safe, reserved game. But if it was what coach and the team needed, she would do it. Which is what it boiled down to - the past few weeks she'd become more accommodating - less of her brash, sometimes argumentative, self.
There was a part of Lex that just wanted to hug Angus and cry into her shoulder, tell him how awful this all felt and how she wasn't sure how to fix it or if it was fixable. To tell him about her conversation with Fraser. To have him hug her, rub her back and stroke her hair, tell her it would be okay. But she wasn't sure that was option. She wasn't sure it would be okay. Her uncle's actions were unforgivable and she carried his name.
"Course we'll be there. Don't be daft. Wouldn't miss it."
“I’ll hold you to that,” Angus promised, thumbing his glass around on the bar surface. “Should be a good shine with all of Scottish Quidditch there, even if a big to-do like this isn’t exactly Len’s style. But he can wander off if he needs to, our sibs will all be there and we’ll cover for him.” He raised his glass to Lex again. “Here’s another to you, lass.”
The whisky felt so nice going down, and he wasn’t even feeling it yet, so he poured himself another. Had to keep up with Lex, after all. “I did notice your playing was a little different up there. More workmanlike, I reckon, like we’ve been seeing from you at training. But that’s not a bad thing, darlin’. Is that Coach’s doing, or something you’re working on for yourself?”
"Don't worry, Len'll be in good hands. I'll make sure he's not overwhelmed." Truth be told, she was much more inclined to join Len in a corner of a big party than be in the middle of it right now. But the Campbell boys were like family to her.
"Coach's suggestion - trying something new. It's not a bad thing per se, but … " Lex trailed off, unsure of how to say it was passionless.
“Sure,” Angus agreed. “But it’s different. Reckon Merc knows what he’s about, though. The man’s a legend for a reason. I remember when I was tiny, cheerin’ for him on Montrose, and on the national side.” He shook his head admiringly. “Godric, he was great, wasn’t he? That ‘82 Cup… Len was gutted when he took that Bludger a couple years after that. The man was tiny Len’s hero.” Angus took his next shot contemplatively. “Reckon I can understand a bit, now, what it must be like for the players that have to drop from the League after injury. After my trial, when they gave me ten years, it was just… it was...”
He took a deep breath, deliberately straightened his shoulders from where they’d hunched up at the memory, and shook his head firmly. “Anyway, that’s not what we were talkin’ about, though. Not tonight.” He waved his fingers again to refill his glass, but when he reached for it, his fingers fumbled and the glass tipped, sending a wave of whisky over the bar to drip down onto both their laps.
“Merlin’s saggy bollocks,” he cursed, and raised his hand. “Barkeep? Towel?”
"He is, but he's a seeker through and through." There were aspects of quidditch that she disagreed with her coach on, especially when it came to beaters. But quidditch was life and MG was coach. She bit her lip when Angus mentioned being sentenced and opened her mouth to say something before he changed the topic. Maybe that was the problem. They didn't talk about war. Didn't share what it was like. Just divided themselves on sides now, which brought up all the old wounds and poured salt in them.
Before she could think more, her lap was full of whisky and she squeaked slightly. "Kitten, if you wanted to get into my knickers, you just needed to ask."
Angus laughed and shook his head, handing her one of the towels the harried barman sent flying in his direction. “Ach, I wouldna dare, for fear you’d say yes.” He winked at her as he mopped up the spill from the bar surface with another towel, ignoring his own damp jeans. It would dry, and he’d worn worse perfumes in his time. “It’s a wonder Cap ever lets you out of his sight, you great tease.”
He tossed the damp towel back over the bar with perfect aim to land in the dish bucket. Angus crowed at that, lifting his arms in victory. “Ten points!” he bellowed. Every eye in the place turned to him for a moment, and he grinned at all of them. “Aw, come on, that was impressive.”
Lex dabbed at her jeans, not too worried about it before throwing the dish towel in Angus' face. "Oi. That's because you're on our short list, mate. Cap knows I'd never bring anyone home that wasn't okay."
She gave him a look. "You looking to become the highest scoring chaser in the league?"
“Highest scoring in this pub, at the least!” Angus grinned and poured himself another, managing not to spill it this time. “What’s this short list then? What’s the criteria, and how short exactly is it?”
Lex nudged her glass over for him to refill before giving him a smirk and a shrug - which was somewhat unreadable. "Criteria is whatever Micah and I decide. Case by case basis. Basically folks we trust and are fond of and generally somewhat attracted to."
She tossed back her glass and refilled it. "Not necessarily something we're gonna act on, but something we've discussed." All in all, it was too many words. "Basically, both Cap and I think you have a nice arse."
Angus blinked at her. Maybe the whisky was working more quickly than he’d thought, because he felt a little light-headed at the moment. “Ah,” he said carefully. “Erm. Weeell.” He pushed his glass back and forth over the bar, hovering somewhere between startled and bemused and intrigued. It was all pleasantly fuzzy, though, which made him glad for all those shots.
He shook his head and tossed down the shot fast, so he didn’t have to think too much about Lex and Micah discussing him and his… criteria. And that he was apparently okay to bring home. His excellent imagination about what that might be like was scandalizing even Angus right now. Lennox was the one who liked blokes, not him, not that there was anything wrong with that and he’d fight anyone who said there was, but…
He coughed and shifted on his barstool, which creaked underneath him. “I reckon I’m.... flattered? What else can I say, lass?”
Lex chuckled and and clapped him on the back as she refilled his glass and her own. "Easy there, kitten. Nothing's changed. No need to get your knickers in a twist."
"But you know, if you decide to go play for Portree, you might get knocked off the list," Lex teased with a smirk, leaning over to reach for the bottle. Which was, of course, the moment her bar stool decided to creak and snap, causing her to reach out for Angus as she tumbled to the ground.
“Oi, nosy, the state of my knickers is none of your--” Angus started, only to flail as Lex grabbed at him when she went down. He swayed but kept his balance, bracing himself on the bar but unable to catch Lex in time to stop her landing on the floor with a bump.
He blinked down at her, startled, and slid off his own stool to offer his hand to help her back up as other patrons stared at them. The bloke two seats down was laughing so hard he almost fell off his seat too; Angus could appreciate the humour, but his attention was on Lex. “You all right, darlin’?”
Lex herself was laughing from her spot on the floor as she reached for her hand. "I've had plenty worse. Do crappy stools mean our drinks are free?"
Angus grinned down at her and hauled her back to her feet. “Nah, or they’d have everybody tossing Joint-Weakening Jinxes all over the place every night and they'd run out of booze, and then where would we be?” He dusted Lex off, businesslike, and stepped back to offer her his own stool. “Come on, sit, have another to settle your nerves, like my gran would say. Barkeep, we’ve got a problem here! Want to take this away before somebody whose head is less hard than my mate here gets hurt?”
There was a brief bustle as the ever-more-harried bartender waved his wand and floated the broken-legged stool off the floor and into the back, glaring at the pair of them all the while. Angus shook his head and stayed standing, leaning on the bar.
“Reckon we’d be safer in a booth, love?”
Lex certainly wouldn't say no to another drink and tossed it back easily before leaning into Angus. "Closer to the ground in a booth. Means a fall won't be quite as bad."
He laughed and threw his arm around her. "That's what I'm thinkin'." Angus levitated the bottle and their glasses off the bar and steered both of them toward a booth that had just cleared out in the busy pub. He only swayed a little on the way there.
"Portree wouldn't take me," he added, after a moment's reflection on something she'd said earlier. "They've got all those healthy young Chasers now, and the wee Urquhart lad as reserve. Reckon if I were to go out on the market… well, the Cannons would have me, maybe." He made a face and poured himself another. "I'm grateful to the McGonagalls for takin' a chance on me this year, that's all."
" 'Gus, you're much too good for the Cannons," Lex insisted, leaning against Angus once they were snug in the booth. "Ain't so much a chance as a sound choice. They'd be fools if they didn't."
Angus shook his head doubtfully. "Thanks, darlin', but it was only luck I made it through that match. The next one…" He sighed, giving his glass a spin on the table in front of him. "I'd rather not play at all than have an episode in the air and hurt one of you, or hurt our chances in a match. Reckon it's bound to happen if I keep playing. But I do want to, more than anything in the world."
He coughed and sat back, tucking Lex firmly in against his side. It felt good, steadying, having her there. "Well, anyway, Len would murder me in my bed if I ever tried leavin' Montrose while I still had half a chance there. And I reckon you and Jay and Cap might give him a hand."
"Not lettin' you go now we've got you back." Which is what all this mess felt like - losing people again, not knowing what was going to happen to them.
She sat up and poked him in the chest. "Oi! That wasn't luck, Mister. That was you being your best self. I know-" the words stopped in her throat and she chewed her lip. "One match at a time. That's how you do it, love. If you want to play, then we'll all do whatever we can to help keep you in the air. "
Angus clutched his chest in mock pain, but he smiled down at Lex. "Yeah? I never doubted it, lass, but it's good to hear nonetheless." He leaned in to press a kiss to her temple. "Thanks, darlin'."
The bottle was three-quarters empty, and he picked it up and shook it, gauging how many more shots both of them could stand before they couldn't stand. At least one more, he decided, and generously poured both of them another. "To stayin' in the air," he toasted her grandly.
"To stayin' in the air!" Lex said raising her glass against his and not caring that some of that whiskey sloshed over her fingers. "Good, because if you ever doubt how good you are in the air, I'll sit on you and tickle you till you believe me.."
Angus shuddered dramatically. "Now there's a threat. Sure you're not secretly a Slytherin?"
Lex feigned shock and poked him in the side with a giggle. "Oi! Be nice. I'm a badger through and through and won't have you saying otherwise!"
She drained her glass and collapsed against him in a fit of giggles. "How we gonna get home 'Gus?"
He grinned down at her. "Reckon I could Apparate home just fine, but you're minkit, darlin'. Cap and Coach might curse me if I let our best Beater splinch off her batting arm." He nudged her, very carefully, because despite his teasing he was probably too pished to make it home himself with all his bits intact if he tried Apparating right now. "Call the Knight Bus? Or I'll Floo you home, reckon I've got a few sickles left for the trip."
"Mmmm…" Lex seemed to be considering the matter as she poured the last bits from the bottle between their glasses. "Floo. 'Cause I'm not 'bout to let you pop off somewhere and splinch yourself. Just cuz you're two of me doesn't mean you're in a better state."
"Ha! I've got body mass on my side, I do," Angus rejoined. "I'm sober as a judge. Dependin' on the judge." He tipped back the last of the whisky and shifted to fumble in his pocket for a Galleon, which he flipped onto the table, and several sickles for the Floo.
"Reckon you could still ref a game better than some of the refs we've had," she added before pulling out some coins to add to the pile on the table. She nudged him with her hip. "Time to go your honor. There's more whisky at home..."
Angus laughed and tapped his nose. "Now that's good thinkin'." He hauled himself out of the booth and offered his hand to steady Lex (well, so they could steady each other).
They only had to wait a moment for another drinker to see herself off into the fireplace, and then Angus stepped up and dropped a silver sickle into the Floo powder dispenser. He squeezed Lex's hand and dropped the little packets of powder into the flames.
The emerald flames burned bright, and Angus stepped forward without hesitation. "The Yaxley-Savage home," he said clearly -- except for the enormous sneeze that burst out of him as a pinch of unburnt powder flew right up into his nostril.
Lex was close by his side as he spoke the words, giggling at his sneeze. When they stumbled out of the floo, the place was familiar… but not the cottage she shared with Micah. She stumbled onto the floor in a heap of giggles and looked up at Angus. "S'not the cottage, 'Gus."
She got to her feet and looked around before brightening. "S'Montrose. You brought us to the pitch.."
A seasoned daredevil flier like Angus would die before admitting the Floo still made him a bit queasy; he blinked away the spinning sensation as he brushed ash off his clothes and swiped at his nose with one sleeve. "What?" he said, before he glanced around and caught on.
He almost fell over laughing then, grabbing hold of the mantelpiece to keep himself upright. "Floo thinks you live here," he got out. "Proof you spend too much time at the pitch, lass."
"I do not! No such thing as spending too much time on the pitch." She moved towards the door, moving with more caution than normal. "Bloody floo made the world spinny. But we just gotta get to the shed, borrow some brooms and fly to the cottage. S'not far from here."
Angus got control of his laughter and straightened up, still grinning, to follow her just as carefully, though a bit more steadily. "Sure you're safe to fly, darlin'? Reckon the whole team will curse me if I let you break your head."
He opened the door for her, leading her out onto the dark, silent pitch, and there he had to stop. Maybe it was the whisky -- he felt a sudden wave of deep fondness and contentedness at the sight of the goalposts rising empty and still into the dark sky. "Merlin's blessed wand," he said admiringly, raising his arms and tilting his head back to admire the sight of it. "I'll tell you, Lex, we're the luckiest bastards on Earth. Playing the best game in the world, and gettin' paid for it. How in Godric's name did we con our way into it, eh?"
He was so overawed he had to sit down right there on the damp grass, hug his knees to his chest, and stare up into the dark sky, the moon shining behind the clouds, casting a silvery light over the practice pitch. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, at least that he could remember in this moment.
Lex stopped short and watched Angus. Wasn't that how she had felt about this for years? They were lucky, getting paid to play the best game in the world. "You're forgetting that we also get to play for the best team in the league."
She dropped onto the ground next to him. "S'fucking gorgeous out here. I .. forget that sometimes." She wiggled against him, moving one of his arms so it was around her and buried her face in his shirt, overwhelmed by the emotions of the pitch, Angus' words, and her moods of the last few weeks. It was just too much and she missed this - the closeness with Angus, the feeling that they could take on everything.
Angus uncurled enough to let her in, his arm closing securely around Lex's shoulders. He leaned his head against hers, his cheek settling on the crown of her head, and watched the clouds scud over the moon. "Aye," he agreed peacefully. "No place I'd rather be, and no one I'd rather be with, lass." He sighed. "Reckon we could just stay here a while? 'Til we sober up a bit, and then I'll get you home safe and sound."
He unwound his team scarf from around his neck and, with a little effort on account of the whisky, transfigured it into a blanket big enough to wrap around both of them. With a warming charm inside, it would be comfortable enough even on the damp, chilly ground.
She hiccup, trying to fight back tears that were under the surface. She burrowed against him, fitting easily against him the same way she had when they'd had a fling years before. Angus was safe and familiar. She'd never really dealt with the fact that he'd been in Azkaban and she'd almost lost him. Or that her Uncle might have had something to do with it. "M'sorry, 'gus…" she mumbled into his chest. "So sorry…"
"Ah, none of that, darlin'," he said, still looking up at the sky, and squeezed her gently with his arm. "You're not to blame, and I'm still here. It's all right now."
It wasn't all right, of course, but at the moment he could forget that he was cursed in the head, that he'd lost a year of his life, even that it was more than likely he wasn't going to be flying with the rest of them in the next match. He'd never blamed Lex for that -- her last name wasn't important, especially not tonight.
"It's all right," he repeated after a moment, and tucked the blanket in around her more securely. "We're just fine, you and me."
She didn't bring up how much she'd been agonizing over his words that none of them should have played that season. It wasn't all right . At least not for her. After all, she was considering leaving all this behind.
"S'only alright if I'm watching your fine arse on a broom during a match," she teased. Because right was being up there with Micah, both Campbell boys, and Jason. "S'unbalanced without you."
She wiped her face on his shirt. "You know you're not allowed to leave again, right? I don't care if Portree or Ballycastle offers you twice as much money. I need you here. We need you."
"Well, if they offered me twice as much… reckon I wouldn't look half bad in purple," he answered, only half teasing, and nudged her gently. "Can't promise not to get traded or cut from the squad, but I'm not leaving you or Len or Jay or Cap as long as I have a chance here. We're family, aren't we? I fought hard to come home, and I'm not giving it up easy."
He sighed and readjusted them both, leaning back to lie on the pitch with the warm blanket cushioning them from the worst of the cold and damp. Lex fit so securely by his side, it just felt natural to turn his head and drop a kiss on her forehead. "I love you all, do ye ken?" he added softly. "Breaks my heart not to fly with you every time, but I will again. I swear it."
"Doesn't matter how good any of us look in purple. S'not allowed, kitten.." Lex closed her eyes as she settled against Angus, burrowing into his side. "I know. And I'll help. Whatever it takes, gonna get you up in the air with us where you belong."