Seamus M. Finnigan (ndr_seamus) wrote in newdarkrising, @ 2008-04-12 22:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | char: seamus finnigan, char: tracey davis |
RP Log: Seamus and Tracey
Who: Seamus Finnigan and Tracey Davis
Where: The Lemon Peel, a music venue in Galway
When: Friday night
What: Seamus has a gig, Tracey shows up for it, and she goes looking for the dirt on her new man.
Rating: R for language and sexual content.
It was Seamus Finnigan's twenty-fifth birthday, but in most ways it had been like any other day. He had gone to work as usual, and then come to his Friday night gig at The Lemon Peel. The only real change had been in the early part of the day - around noon Tracey had shown up with what was one of the most delicious cakes he'd ever eaten. His mother made spectacular desserts, and this was the first store-bought item he'd ever seen rival her work. It was a good way to start things off, and had brought him through his shift behind the bar in a good mood.
Playing was always good, of course, and Seamus especially liked playing at The Lemon Peel. It was a little bit pretentious, with its hip young crowd who smoked cigarettes and dressed in the latest odd fashions, but they were mostly a crowd who really liked music. While Seamus would admit to taking a bit of enjoyment in making up bands and watching The Lemon Peel's clientele pretend to have heard of them, he still enjoyed the place. That night, he felt that having such a good day beforehand had really improved his performance - he was playing the best he had in a while. Which was good, because his brand new girlfriend had shown up for the show. Thank god for the lights shining in his eyes so he couldn't see where she was standing. Ignorance was definitely bliss in this case, because if he'd known where she was he would have been staring at her and worrying that he was going to fuck up and all that rot. The bright lights were a perfect security blanket, though, and so far things had gone well. He was nearing the end of the set, with just one more song to finish it off before he put his guitar in her case and headed for the bar at the back of the club.
If Seamus could see what Tracey had been up to while he was playing, he may not have played quite as well. Sure, she whistled loudly after each of his songs, but she was also drinking up a storm, having a lively chat with the pub's manager, and half-falling out of her dress -- something that wasn't going unnoticed by the manager nor the small group of Pretty People who had gathered to around to be where the action was.
By the time he had finished his set, she was up on the sorry excuse for a dance floor, and demonstrating (quite vividly) how it would be in the manager's best interest to get a lighting system and a larger floor. "Because the more they dance, you see, the more they're going to want to drink," she was saying now. "And it'll make the entire place so much more lively, and as far as I can tell you really need more liveliness around here."
"It's just not so much a liveliness crowd," the manager explained. "Friday night's usually our acoustic night, and people come to relax and hear some good music, not go mad. But come in on a Saturday!" he suggested with a grin. "That's heavier rock, sometimes punk or metal, and you'll see this whole floor filled up."
About that time, Seamus was finishing up his last song, saying goodnight with a smile, and walking off with his guitar in hand. Seeing him move off, the manager jogged quickly up the stage to do his usual closing routine, thanking the crowd for being there and Seamus for performing. By the end of it, Seamus already had Deirdre (the guitar) back in her case. He came down the back steps from the stage, looking around for Tracey on his way back to the bar.
"He's quite good, isn't he?" Tracey remarked to one of the young men who'd lingered behind after the manager had moved off. "You should bring all your friends back here next time. Where are they, anyway?" She vaguely remembered this particular one being part of a larger group.
"Abandoned me," he said ruefully, stepping closer. "Took off without a word. Now I'm left with nowhere to go at closing."
But Tracey wasn't even listening. Having seen Seamus leave the stage, she raised herself up on her toes to try to see where he'd gone. But she'd had quite a number of drinks by then, and her heels were so very thin, and when she came back down, she slipped --
--and was caught, of course, by the man who'd just been talking to her.
It was the worst of luck that Seamus happened to catch sight of Tracey just in time to see her in the arms of a drunken hipster with a goofy grin on his face. Instantly, a wave of pure rage rose up and crashed over him. It wasn't directed at Tracey, though - no, this looked like some very foolish person had decided to grab his girlfriend. That happened much, much too often, he was discovering. With a determined look on his face, Seamus stalked past a crowd of people who would have congratulated him on the performance. He came straight to where Tracey and Mr. About To Rue The Day He'd Been Born stood.
"Did she mention she's with somebody?" Seamus flatly asked.
One look at the angry musician and Mr. Just Got Foiled quickly released Tracey, who stumbled over to Seamus for balance. "Oh, hey, I didn't know," he said, backing up slightly. "She never said, an' I just caught her when she fell."
"Well, you didn't exactly ask, either, did you?" Tracey said crossly. She resented the implied accusation that she'd somehow thrown herself at this fellow. While she found Finnigan's jealousy completely hot and wouldn't have been above flirting with other men just to get that reaction out of him, she didn't appreciate someone else foisting that on her.
"You should hit him," she told Seamus, as she tucked her arm around his. "Only you've got to play here again, don't you? All right, don't. Let's just go."
Seamus had thought very seriously about hitting the bloke, but it was pretty obvious he wasn't looking for a fight. Tracey was also quite right - if he wanted to play here again, he'd best behave himself. At The Lemon Peel, Seamus Finnigan was known as an easygoing, friendly sort of fella. (Though now he'd likely be known as a Nice Easygoing Fella Til You Lay a Hand On His Girl). And speaking of which...
"Good idea," Seamus agreed. He kissed her quickly, forgetting all about Mr. Knows Better Than To Pick A Fight With A Mad Irishman. "Mind goin' through all the hellos an' congratulations an' introductions wi' me? It shouldn' take long, an' then we can be on about our business."
Tracey returned the kiss quite enthusiastically, but his request dampened her enthusiasm somewhat. It was one thing to show her support of him while he was playing, but to meet the people he actually saw on a regular basis? She hadn't planned to stick around long enough for it to be an issue at all. By the time he played here again they might well have already broken up. Besides, what was he going to introduce her as, anyway? 'My current shag'? 'This girl I took home one night and who's still around'? 'The girl who's going to tear your hair out if you so much as look at me the wrong way and yes that means you Sadie'?
She slowly pulled away. "Maybe I'll just wait here."
Seamus looked a touch disappointed, his smile fading somewhat. "If ye'd rather," he said. He'd been planning to simply introduce her as Tracey, as while he thought of her as his girlfriend (however recent) he wasn't sure how she'd feel about the label. Besides, it was obvious enough that they were together, so it wasn't as if the label should even be necessary.
They'd come to the bar by then, and when the bartender (a black-haired witch in a top that was just low enough to attract tips and just high enough to make sure the women still tipped her as well) came by them Seamus addressed her quickly. "Rae, this is Tracey. She's on my tab, 'kay?"
"Got it!" Rae chirped, going on to another customer. Seamus had turned back to Tracey. "Have somethin' to drink, an' I'll be back quick as I can."
"Yeah, I'd rather," Tracey said, and was silent all the way to the bar. There, she pulled him down for a quick kiss before releasing him to his socializing. There were sure to be questions about her, but she told herself she didn't care how he answered them. Really, she wouldn't be around long enough to be affected by them. The thought led her to decide that she needed to be drunker. She gestured Rae over. "Cosmo," she said imperiously. "But easy on the Sec, and I want sweetened lime juice."
Her gaze had turned to Seamus even before she'd finished speaking, as she checked up to see how he was doing.
He was doing well - having quick, smiling conversations with a few dozen different people as he circulated through. He accepted congratulations on a job well done, discussed the writing of the newest song in the set with his mate Peter, talked with his sometimes-bass player about the next time they were playing together, and expertly fended off a decidedly drunk and overly friendly young lady who couldn't be long out of Hogwarts.
Back at the bar, Rae came back to Tracey with her drink all up to specifications. "So, you're with Shay, then?" she asked, her accent obviously lower class London. Her dressed marked her as a rocker chick, and her smile was genuine and friendly...and a bit curious. Shay hadn't been in with a girl in a while, so she couldn't help but wonder.
Tracey turned back to Rae with a blank look. "Who?" she asked, before she made the connection. Seamus. Shay. Right. She still occasionally thought of him as Finnigan -- and that was all she called him. Sometimes Potato Head, sometimes Hey You, but never Seamus, and certainly not Shay. It would have been too...friendly, and already she was feeling too comfortable around him. She had to maintain her distance somehow.
"Oh. Yes. Quite." She turned up her own accent, hoping that the obvious difference between their social statuses would keep the bartender from getting too nosy. That was the problem with being around the lower classes: the Help started thinking that they could talk to you. She picked up the martini and took a sip from it, a clear signal that she wasn't available to talk. She was trying her best to behave herself here (when the manager first come up to her and started speaking in his thick Irish accent, she'd even refrained from telling him that she didn't speak Potato), but she hadn't expected the bartender to try to engage her in gossip.
Then again, she wouldn't mind hearing some gossip about Finnigan. She eyed his progress. Still a lot of hobnobbing to go. All right, then. "How long have you known him?"
Rae noticed the accent, of course, but she didn't think about it one way or another. The Lemon Peel drew all kinds - like Hogwarts it had a mix of the English, Irish, Scots, and Welsh, with a range of social classes. The only difference was that instead of just having magic in common, this crowd had music. As far as Rae was concerned the woman sitting in front of her was the same as anyone else around, if dressed a little differently...but then, practically everybody there dressed a little differently in one way or another. A barmaid learned not to be surprised, and it didn't occur to her that she would be condescended to so she didn't really take note of it.
"Oh, it's been four years or so now, I think," Rae mused. "Something like that, anyway. Three or four. Since he started playing here, anyhoo, and that's been a while now. So if you want any recent ed gossip and gossip on him, I've got it!" The barmaid had a conspiratorial grin at the end, because she both loved gossip and didn't know any bad gossip about Seamus, not really. "So your name's Tracey, then? Nice to meet you."
Across the floor, Seamus glanced back to the bar to find Rae and Tracey chatting. He should have know better than to leave the two of them together this close to closing, with the crowd thinning out and the bar getting considerably less busy. Too much talking time for Rae.
Amazing. The girl didn't even know her place; she was talking to Tracey as if they were equals or something of the sort. Tracey supposed she couldn't expect any better from this lot, especially Potter's victory and the whole atmosphere of liberté, égalité, fraternité that followed, but it still rankled.
At the same time, the barmaid wasn't terribly difficult to talk to, and she was completely open to sharing her knowledge of Finnigan, so Tracey figured she could play nice for a little while longer. "Rae," she acknowledged, with a small nod. And then she leaned forward, lowering her voice just as conspiratorially. "So tell me about the girls he brings here."
"Few and far between," Rae answered truthfully. "You're the first he's brought here that wasn't just a friend in...oh, over six months, anyway." It wasn't rare at all to see Seamus flirting with a girl at the bar, but it was rare to see it go any further than that. If she'd known the circumstances of Tracey and Seamus's initial involvement, Rae would have been surprised. "The last one was a brunette named Lindsey, pretty but seemed boring. Or maybe she was just quiet, I don't know. But she dressed boring. More navy blue than any witch ought to own, if you ask me."
Seamus was making his way back toward them by then, hoping he could make it politely before Rae told Tracey his entire life story. The little Londoner could talk a blue streak when she hit a good line of gossip. He should have remembered Tracey's habit of asking bartenders personal questions.
Tracey wrinkled her nose, although she was inwardly pleased to learn that not only had Seamus not been with anyone for a while, but his latest ex had been boring -- or at least unfashionable. "Oh, how ghastly. Not that dull shade of navy, the ochre shade?" She briefly wondered what Rae would be telling the next girl six months down the road. ("Her name was Tracey, I think, or was it Trisha? Didn't last long, but she was gorgeous...") She hated that girl, whoever it was, already. She hoped she had spots. Lots of them.
"Thaaaaaat's the one," Rae said, wrinkling her nose. "Dull, dull, dull. But yeah, she was a long while back. Far as I can tell, he doesn't have a girl come see him play unless he really likes her. So that's good for you, then - Shay's a real catch. There's about fifty girls in here that'd love to trade places with you, if some of the dirty looks you got when he was kissing you were any hint."
Tracey turned around, eyeing the people left in the bar to pick out who some of those girls were. She'd already picked out some of the competition earlier in the evening, which was why she'd been so quick to stake her claim even while Seamus had been playing. And if Seamus hadn't gotten rid of Little Miss Just Got Legal as quickly as he had, she would have stepped in as well. "Does he take any of them home?" she asked, an edge coming into her voice. Rae had better answer quickly; Seamus was making a rather fast return to the bar. She waved at him cheerily, then turned back to the bartender.
"Oh, no way. Not his style. In fact--"
And there he was, with a smile on his face and a warning for Rae in his eyes. She didn't seem to take it seriously, though - the barmaid was smirking as he approached. "'llo, ladies," Seamus said cheerfully, sliding his arm around Tracey's shoulders. "Looks like all the fun is o'er here."
In fact what? Tracey cursed Seamus for his untimely interruption. "Hello," she said, leaning up to give him a kiss. "And go away; I'm not finished talking to Rae." She'd forgotten her earlier moment of snobbery. If this bartender had insight on Seamus, she was willing to overlook the status gap.
"Oh really?" Seamus laughed, and he went in for just one more kiss. Public displays of affection weren't his usual, either, but he seemed to be making an exception for Tracey. This was probably linked to his total inability to keep his hands off her. "An' how much more o' my life story do I need to give 'er time for?"
Tracey held up her hand with all fingers spread. "Five minutes. I can't imagine your life can be terribly fascinating." Then she caught hold of his shirt front to pull him down for another kiss. "Maybe ten, just in case you have any scandalous secrets."
"Five," he said. "I'm terribly boring."
"He's saying that because he thinks I won't tell you about the time he and Ciaran decided they'd climb to the roof," Rae cut in cheerfully.
"Jaysus, Rae..." Seamus complained. "That's not even a good story. It just makes the two of us look like eejits for gettin' up there."
"No, you look like idgits for falling off," Rae corrected. "Now scoot. I'm still talking to your lady here."
Seamus rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Ye two just have a good time talkin' about me behind me back. I'll just go chat wi' Bert for another few minutes."
Tracey just gave him a cheerful wave and watched him go with an appreciative eye before turning back to Rae. She must be spending too much time in Potatoland; she actually understood that entire conversation. And she was instigating an actual conversation with the barkeep. She just hoped no one she knew ever found out about it. "Let's go back to the women he doesn't take home," she prompted.
"He just doesn't," Rae said, and shrugged. "Like...he'll flirt at the bar, right? And it's all pretty smiles and intense looks and practically every time I think this time he's going to do it...and then he'll just pay his tab at last call and go home. Wishes the girl a good night and heads out. And the more he does it, the more the others start chasing, which is hilaaaaarious." She really did find the whole business amusing, along with all the other drama that took place at her bar. Watching single hipster girls make eyes at Shay just happened to be one of her favourites to watch. It was even better than watching the boys moon after the girls in The Dryads when they played there.
Oh yes, the pretty smiles and intense looks. Tracey knew them well. She felt a stab of jealousy at the revelation that he shared them with other girls, then a surge of satisfaction that she'd been the one he'd brought home. Then she wondered why. At any rate, those pretty smiles directed anywhere other than at her were going to have to stop.
"I'm sure," she said grumpily, sounding quite as if she found the whole thing not hilaaaaarious at all. "What about scandalous secrets, then?"
"Hmmm..." Rae paused thoughtfully, trying to determine if she knew any scandalous secrets about Seamus Finnigan. "He has a sick, sad addiction to Muggle horror movies, zombie movies in particular. Other than that, though...not much, honestly. As far as everything I've seen of him, Shay's a right good bloke. If he likes a girl he sticks with her, there's not an endless string of 'em...far as I know, the wild an' crazy's all stuff like finishing off a whole fifth of Ogden's on a dare and shite like that."
Tracey wondered what had happened with Lindsay the Boring Navy Wearer. Had she been the one to call things off with him, or did he decide he didn't like her after all? The reference to Muggle horror...moovees just confused Tracey, so she said nothing about it. Hearing about his crazy dares, though, made her wonder if he might like to go broom free-falling with her. It was obvious that she wasn't going to get Adrian to go with her.
She turned her gaze briefly to study him as he talked to his friend, then abruptly asked, "Does he like me more than the last one?"
"Sure looks like it to me," the barmaid replied. "You're definitely the only one I've ever seen him get all kissy with in front of people. Or stare at from across the room like he's - now don't look-look, just veeeeeery slowly turn your eyes to the left - see? Staring at you."
She was right - Seamus was looking over at her, only about half paying attention to what his friend was saying. He had a preoccupied smile, the kind a man gets when he's been distracted by something especially pleasant.
And Tracey smiled in turn, until she remembered that she wasn't with Daphne or Pansy, and this over-pierced girl in front of her wasn't one of her girlfriends. She settled on arranging herself to show off her scandalous dress to its best advantage instead. If he were looking, she might as well give him something nice to look at. Satisfied with Rae's response, she turned her gaze back to the barkeep. "I think we have about 30 seconds before he comes back. Any last burning bits of gossip you want to share?"
Rae snickered, because just as Tracey had predicted, Seamus was already making his excuses and coming back across the floor. "Can't think of anything off the top of my head," she said. "Now be nice to that boy, all right? He's one of the good ones."
And there was Seamus, within earshot again. As soon as he got to them he had his arm around Tracey again, though he tried not to let his impatience show. After watching her arrange her dress from across the room, his thoughts had turned mostly to getting her home and getting the scandalous dress off. "Ready to head out?" he asked.
Tracey merely made a noncommital noise at Rae's request, because she didn't think "Actually, I plan to use him for all that he's worth (which isn't much, don't you know) and then drop him like a used handkerchief when I'm done with him" would go over very well, and a lie like "Yes, of course I'll be perfectly good to that dear boy" stuck in her throat.
Fortunately, Seamus's arrival effectively ended any confidences between herself and Rae, and Tracey quickly polished off the rest of her cosmo before gingerly sliding off the barstool, making sure that she had a good hold on him for balance. And just to have a good hold on him. "Ready." A brief glance back at the bartender. "It was lovely, Rae." And she almost meant it.
"Any time, ducks," Rae chirped. She went back to her closing routine then, getting the bar wiped down and glasses put in to wash and her cash drawer counted out.
"'Night, Rae!" Seamus said, and she waved in response. Seamus steered Tracey around, heading casually for the exit. "So," he asked, "Did Rae fill ye in on m' whole sordid life story, then?"
"No, she thinks there's nothing sordid about you, for some odd reason," Tracey replied as she walked along with him. It'd been nice to talk to Rae about him and get the goods on his past relationships, but it was even nicer just to have his arm wrapped around her. "She thinks you're nice. I didn't have the heart to tell her about your sad tendency to start bar fights."
"Start bar fights?" Seamus asked innocently. "I never start bar fights. I just finish 'em. An' as far as Rae's concerned, I am nice. Those of us in the Bartender Mafia look out for one another."
He was relieved to find that Rae hadn't decided to tell any of the stupider stories about him. While he'd never really gotten up to anything sordid, he'd certainly acted a fool more than once, occasionally with spectacular results. The gang at The Lemon Peel knew more of those than the Ri-Ra crowd did; at Ri-Ra he was working and therefore responsible, and even if he dropped in when he wasn't working he'd be careful not to put himself in any state that could lead to trouble when he was.
"Mmm," said Tracey, and the skepticism in her voice said it all. Most people would have left it at that, with the idea that less is more, but Tracey never could let things go. "Just like...." she pretended to think hard. "...you finished the fight at Casseiopeia? Just like you almost finished a fight tonight?"
The crisp night was refreshing against her alcohol-fogged mind, and she snuggled up closer to Seamus for warmth. In that moment, she didn't worry that someone she knew might see them.
"I seem to recall the fight at Casseiopeia bein' finished very quickly," Seamus replied calmly, starting to smirk just a little bit. "An' it doesn' count as startin' a fight if I give 'im fair warnin' an' he doesn' listen. For instance the fella t'night - there's a man who knows how to not start a fight."
He was itching to ask her what she'd thought of the performance, but he didn't. If she had something to say, she'd say it. He was above fishing for compliments, he thought. He wondered, too, why she'd declined to go around and do introductions and all - it was one of those things that eventually had to happen when you dated someone, wasn't it? Seamus decided to chalk it up to the somewhat overwhelming atmosphere. It was a lot of people, after all.
"Funny," Tracey said dryly. "Most people would say that it's a fight once the punches start flying."
The walk back to the flat was companiable, and so pleasant that Tracey was almost disappointed that they'd arrived. She decided not to dwell on the thought that this was almost unheard of for her. She liked to Apparate everywhere, and she hadn't even thought she was capable of having amiable conversations with men.
"So, Birthday Boy," she said, once they'd gotten in. "It's really not your birthday anymore, but it seems entirely unfair that you had to work and perform on your birthday, so I'll extend the day for you. Any last birthday requests?"
"Birthday request number one: Shower," Seamus replied with a grin. He put his hands on her waist, pulling her close enough to kiss. "An' I don' mean by myself, obviously. After that, bed. Sleep eventually, an' in the mornin', chocolate chip pancakes. Reasonable?"
Astoria draped her arms around his neck and leaned forward just enough to close the distance between their lips. "Think I can live with that," she whispered, when they finally broke apart. She trailed a series of kisses along his jaw to his ear, and whispered, "Who do you want me to be?"
It was a question he hardly even knew how to answer. Seamus was in some ways a rather simple man; he was always himself and operated on the assumption that other people were as well. Though now that she mentioned it, he could envision her pretty well as the Naughty Librarian. That would require props and planning, though, and he wasn't in the mood to wait.
"Be whoever ye want, darlin'," he murmured with pleasure, reaching for the fastening of her robes. "But yerself'll do just fine."
That wasn't an answer she got often. Most men had a fairly good idea of who their fantasy woman would be. "What, no Glenda Chittock?" she asked, not quite willing to believe that Finnigan had no such thing. "No Meghan McCormack? She's in Playwitch this month, isn't she?" She squirmed pleasurably as his fingers brushed over a sensitive spot. "Go on, Finnigan. I don't offer this often."
Ah, so that was what she meant. He just wasn't particularly interested in her being a totally different woman with a name and a life of her own. If she wanted to play Tie-Me-Up or Film Noir Seductress sometime, that could be fun, but real women...the idea was just a little bit weird. Not that he'd never done anything a little weird to make a woman happy, though. "I mean, if ye want to, take yer pick o' whoever," he replied, noncommittal. His tone was, anyway - his hands were totally committed to sliding her dress off her shoulders. "But don' worry about bein' anybody but Tracey Davis on my account."
Tracey laughed -- until she realised he was serious. It wasn't flattery; it wasn't charm; it wasn't designed to get her to do what he wanted her to do. He really didn't want some fantasy sex goddess; he just wanted her. To be herself.
Well, maybe not herself, exactly, because herself was a crazy fuck up who had plans to stomp him into the dust, but he didn't know that, did he? And for tonight, perhaps she could forget that too.
"All right, then," she whispered as she wriggled out of her dress. "One Tracey Davis, coming right up."