who ? draco malfoy, arran and oliver wood when ? friday evening where ? leaky cauldron what ? draco’s getting to meet his girlfriend’s brothers status ? complete
Maybe Oliver felt a tiny bit bad for having teased Draco. Only a little bit. And he had zero intention of telling his brother of this feeling, because Oliver was pretty sure Arran would take away all the Slytherin kudo points Oliver had earned via is teasing of Draco. Oliver hoped Lottie’s new boyfriend hadn’t taken offense to it, it certainly hadn’t been intended maliciously. If anything, Oliver was rather looking forward to meeting Draco. He was obviously important to Lottie, which meant that Oliver wanted to get to know him better (or at all, since Oliver had knew nothing about Draco, apart from the fact that he had been an okay Seeker in school).
Having gotten himself and Arran a drink, Oliver settled at the table mid-way through the pub, pushing one of the glasses towards his brother. Hopefully, where they were sat was close enough to the door for Draco to spot them when he arrived but also secluded enough for neither Oliver nor Arran to get a great deal of attention. By the time Draco did get there, Oliver and Arran were passionately discussing the English-Irish game last week, and it took Oliver a moment to even pause in his stride enough to notice Draco.
“Oh, hey,” he greeted with a smile, standing up to shake the man’s hand. “Can I get you a drink?” Oliver offered looking over at the bar briefly. It was only polite to offer, they could always do rounds. With the games behind him, Oliver was quite happy to return to drinking, even if Arran was an utter lightweight.
--
Although he’d agreed to drinks and knew why he’d been asked, Draco still wasn’t entirely sure what to think of meeting Lottie’s brothers. Meeting Celia hadn’t been much of a problem but then that meeting hadn’t involved any alcohol being imbibed. Still he knew even though Lottie had reminded him that he was her choice and not her brothers’ that it was still important to Lottie that they meet and all that it entailed. Of course if this were Lottie meeting his parents he’d probably still be feeling ill at ease.
Draco couldn’t help but check his watch one last time before entering the pub. Not that he was particularly worried about actually being late. But it offered him one last brief moment to steel his nerves; and to tell himself to stop being an idiot and to just get on with it. After entering it didn’t take him long, after scanning the pub, to spot the brothers and went over to greet them.
“Hey,” he returned, shaking Oliver’s hand. “Uh, yeah, sure that’d be great.”
--
Arran was mostly curious. He remembered Draco a little better than Oliver - they’d been in the same house, after all, and both interested in quidditch. Still, if Oliver was going to do the official meeting-the-boyfriend routine, Arran would follow suit. He didn’t stand, but he did shift in his chair so he could shake Draco’s hand as well, unable to help the flicker of a smile at how bizarrely formal this all was. “Have a seat,” he offered to Draco, leaving the drinks in Oliver’s capable hands.
“So, good day?” he asked. “Any tea parties?” He had, of course, read Draco’s journal entries. Even before he’d found out that Draco and Lottie were involved, they’d been entertaining. He assumed that had been what inspired Oliver’s teasing, though he declined to bring it up in light of what he’d heard about Draco’s reaction.
--
Draco having shook Arran’s hand then sat down opposite the two brothers. “It was a pretty normal day without any trouble,” he replied, with a shrug. It had been a pretty standard day as far as paediatrics was concerned particularly with the lack of any emergencies. Though he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the second question. “Might want to be a little specific, as there’s the tea parties my mother drags me to or the ones the kids pull me into.”
He’d actually been to at least one of each, with the latter being the more recent of the two he’d attended. Thankfully with her knowledge he actually had a girlfriend now Narcissa hadn’t made any attempts in trying to organise anything for him. Though if asked he’d probably state that the tea party with the children still had the better company of the two.
--
Once finding out what Draco would like to drink, Oliver made his way to the bar, putting the drink on the tab, because of course he had a tab. Upon his return, Oliver pushed Draco’s drink towards him before sitting back down, taking a sip of his own pint. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a tea party,” Oliver said thoughtfully, since the conversation didn’t appear to have moved on in his trip to the bar. “But I don’t know whether that’s something I particularly need in my life?” He added since tea parties didn’t seem incredibly important part of one’s social event. “I prefer the type of parties that come with booze,” Oliver stated giving a little toast with his pint.
“Lottie said we have to get tattoos,” Oliver informed Arran across the table. “Quidditch themed, of course,” he added with a grin. “I can highly recommend hoops on your back,” since that was the tattoo Oliver had, that he got mercilessly teased for by everyone, but was still a pretty amazing tattoo, thank you very much. “You played Seeker, right?” He said glancing at Draco. “I was telling Lottie, the Reserve Seeker on my team has this Snitch tattoo that magical moves around her body,” Oliver explained. “Fucking endless hours of amusement trying to catch that,” he said before pausing briefly. “Though, it does involve a lot of nakedness,” which it really did.
--
“I meant the kids,” Arran clarified. He could hardly have meant whatever Draco’s mother’s social life was like, since he had no way to know one way or the other whether it involved tea parties. It did make him wonder if, some way down the road, he’d get to hear second-hand reports of Evelyn and Draco’s mother chatting over tea and tiny sandwiches. The image was hilarious. Though, not as hilarious as the image of Oliver at a tea party. “We should fix that,” he said, once Oliver pointed out he’d never been to one. “I’m sure Lottie can throw me a tea party for my birthday.” Though, it was a week after her own birthday, perhaps it would be unfair to ask her to work.
Arran rolled his eyes at the mention of Oliver’s quidditch hoops. “He’s kidding,” he said, just in case that weren’t clear. “I would never get quidditch hoops tattooed anywhere.” He grinned at Oliver. “You just keep dreaming, though, brother.” He took a slow sip of his beer, listening as Oliver described more quidditch tattoos and chuckling. “What do hardcore medics get tattoos of?” he asked Draco. “Skeletons?”
--
“Don’t worry, you’re really not missing out on much,” he commented, after having taken a sip of his beer. “The kids’ tea parties aren’t too bad, gives them something to do and keeps their mind off of the reason they’re in the hospital to start with.”
If it hadn’t been for the teasing comment about wearing a dress earlier in the week Draco may have almost been tempted to accept what Oliver had said. Though not enough that he would’ve been convinced to get a tattoo. If ever he were tempted to get one he highly doubted it would be a Quidditch themed one. “I got that impression,” he said, managing to genuinely smile. “Yeah, I played Seeker. Those all sound great but I doubt, even at Lottie’s insistence, that I’d be convinced to get one.”
He of course could’ve given an entirely different response - particularly to the travelling snitch tattoo. But considering who was part of the response and whose brothers were sitting opposite him he thought silence or vague answers were the better option. Also he really wasn’t the sort of guy who’d make any such comments about his girlfriend to anyone, let alone any siblings.
Draco snorted in response to Arran’s questions. “You’d be better off asking one. I don’t think paediatrics is considered the place where hardcore medics go. Though if it’s skeleton tattoos they have they’d better be more interesting than the skeletons used for teaching.”
--
Oliver accepted Draco’s promise that he wasn’t missing out on much in regard to tea parties, and raised an eyebrow at Arran’s suggestion that he could have one for his birthday. “The fuck are you having a tea party,” Oliver said with a shake of his head. “If there’s going to be a party, it’s going to be a proper one, not one with tea and scones,” he told his brother before pausing slightly. “I suppose the scones could be there. I like scones,” Oliver did, in fact, quite like scones. Especially ones with butter and jam. Obviously, no marmalade, the one thing in the world Arran appeared to genuinely hate.
“Well, there goes the plan for our very masculine male bonding,” Oliver said jokingly when Draco refused to get a thematised tattoo with him and Arran. Not that Arran had seemed terribly keen on the idea, which was a shame, because Oliver thought it was an excellent proposition, even if Lottie had made it jokingly.
At Draco’s suggestion that any tattoo of a skeleton should be more interesting than the ones that were used for teaching, Oliver frowned slightly. “Don’t they use real skeletons for teaching? I thought they use real skeletons for teaching,” he said looking at his brother as if Arran, rather than Draco, who actually had a medical degree, was in a better position to answer Oliver’s question. “What’s representative of paediatrics? I mean, getting a picture of a kid tattooed on you would probably be pretty... weird,” or vastly weird. “What about...” Oliver paused genuinely trying to think of anything else he associated with paediatrics specifically and failing miserably. “No. Um, how about them listening things? Stethoscopes? Is that the word I’m looking for?” Oliver asked, once again looking at Arran for the answer.
--
Arran made a face at the idea of a ‘proper’ birthday party. He hadn’t had one the year before, and if he had one now there was no way to avoid the questions about why Roger wasn’t there. Arran really had meant it when he said he’d tell Oliver, but he wasn’t looking forward to it. Oliver, unlike Charlotte and Celia, probably wouldn’t get angry with Roger. Or at least, not enough that he’d go after Roger over it. Still, it wasn’t going to be a comfortable conversation. “It could be a champagne tea,” Arran said with a grin, because right now was not the time to get into awkward conversations, “like they have in the fancy hotels. You’d like all the tiny cakes.”
He snorted at Oliver’s description of ‘masculine male bonding’. “If you’re that keen, I’m sure Draco will come with us if you want a moving quaffle added to those quidditch hoops,” he said, raising an eyebrow. It wasn’t a serious suggestion, but Arran found the idea of Oliver having a tattoo of a quaffle near unguarded quidditch hoops fairly entertaining.
Holding up a hand to indicate his ignorance, Arran turned to Draco for answers to all Oliver’s medical questions. “I don’t think stethoscopes are particularly associated with paediatrics,” he said, since that bit he could have an opinion on. Actually, he associated them with muggle doctors more than wizarding ones, but that might be because he’d done essays on muggle doctors and had limited experience (thankfully) in St Mungo’s.
--
Draco let the conversation about birthday parties stay between the brothers since he didn’t have much of an opinion to offer either. Mostly because he didn’t know either of them that well yet; also, there was the fact his own birthday had passed quietly just recently without much of a fanfare. Well, there was the almost tacky looking tiara that Pansy had sent him and had bespelled to be unable to remove for twelve hours. Which in itself was as good a reason as any to not have a party.
“I’m sure I’ll manage to live,” he commented wryly. Draco wasn’t completely against ever getting a tattoo; he just wasn’t sold on the idea of getting one related to Quidditch. He just wasn’t as connected to the sport as he’d been in the past. “Though if you’re after Quidditch related tattoos I’m sure the place in Knockturn could be accommodating.”
“Yeah, stethoscopes are more of a Muggle tool. Pretty sure most Healers and Medi-witches just rely on the various spells and charms,” he added before taking a drink of his beer. “I’m not sure I could actually get anything tattooed that’s related to my profession that wouldn’t actually be thought of as anything but weird.”
--
When Draco suggested that if Oliver was in a need for a Quidditch related tattoo, the shop in Knockturn would do, Oliver shook his head. “Oh, no, I have a Quidditch tattoo,” he explained. “The hoops. I have hoops tattooed on my back,” he told Draco before proceeding to pull his shirt up to show the tattoo off, awkwardly tilting his head at Arran whilst simultaneously exposing his bare back to Draco. “And fuck off, am I getting a fucking Quaffle that goes through the hoops added. That is literally the opposite of my job,” Oliver told his brother, because there were many things Oliver was oblivious to, but jokes relating to Quidditch were not one of them.
Sitting back up straighter and letting the shirt fall back down, Oliver took a sip of his beer. “So what do you use to listen to people’s hearts?” Oliver asked before biting his lip as the realisation that the answer was ‘magic’ hit him. “Is it just your wand? Like is there a charm that just makes the sound louder? What do you look for? Like a pattern? It’s all very interesting,” Oliver babbled, before giving Arran a rather dramatic look. “Why didn’t you become a Healer? You’d make such a good Healer and I’d be able to be the best Scottish Keeper in the league,” Oliver told his brother, but it was mostly a joke. Mostly, in as much as Oliver did think Arran would make a great Healer, even if he would never suggest his brother sacrifice a Quidditch career for it. Arran was very good at Quidditch.
--
Amused, as ever, by Oliver’s complete lack of body-shame (not that he had anything to be ashamed of, but most people had the good sense not to expose their entire back in public), Arran glanced around the pub, just in case there were any reporters lurking who thought a shot of three-quarters-dressed Oliver Wood might be worth something to tomorrow’s papers. It seemed they’d gotten away with it, and he grinned, flashing Oliver his best ‘who me?’ innocent expression. “Is it?” he asked, drawing the words out. “Well, I never knew that. Every day’s a school day, so they say.”
Arran didn’t agree that he’d make a good Healer. His bedside manner would, he suspected, leave a lot to be desired, and Arran wasn’t known for his patience, either. “It never occurred to me,” he said, honestly. He’d known he would play quidditch probably before he even knew what a healer was. “You’ll have to settle for being the best Scottish Captain in the league.” Afraid they were leaving Draco out with too much quidditch talk, Arran did his best to redirect the conversation. “When did you decide to go into healing? At school?”
--
Draco raised an eyebrow as Oliver lifted his shirt to show off the tattoo. On the list of expected and unexpected things to possibly happen this evening that hadn’t been one of them. Before he could make a reply he couldn’t help but snort at Arran’s reply.
“It’s matter of casting a charm and then holding the tip of the wand to above where the heart is and you get a sort of ‘echo’ of the heartbeat,” he explained with a bemused smile at the babbling. “Wasn’t until a few weeks after school that I finally decided to give it a go.”
At the time when he made the decision he still hadn’t been sure about it. But the idea had had merit for the simple fact St. Mungo’s was possibly one of the few areas he felt he could work that was outside the sphere of his father’s influence.
--
At Arran’s mocking, Oliver kicked his brother under the table, whilst also sticking his tongue out at him. “Fuck you,” Oliver said but it was all rather affectionate. He was, after all, rather used to Arran’s mocking of him. Oliver was well aware that he said plenty of stupid shit that deserved mocking and Arran had always been the best person to do so. But then Draco was explaining how one listened to a patient's heart without a stethoscope and Oliver gave a small, interested ‘oh’.
“What made you want to be a Healer?” Oliver asked, expanding from the question his brother had introduced. “We grew up playing Quidditch,” Oliver explained, not really considering the fact that it was highly likely that Draco would be aware of this, what with dating Lottie and all. “Mum played professionally and dad’s a trainer, so we grew up on the pitch. Felt natural to go into Quidditch,” not that their sisters had gone the same route. For different reasons, though, and Oliver still had high hopes that Celia would make the auditions and join him and Arran and Anthony on the pitch (no matter what team’s pitch it might be). “Are either of your parents Healers?” Oliver asked since he knew nothing about the Malfoy family apart from the fact that they were well off.
--
The answer to that particular question wasn’t one he usually shared with just anyone; and the amount of people who did know could probably be counted on the one hand. Although he’d never actually told them he was reasonably certain that his parents were aware of why he chose the career he had. Thankfully it seemed his father at least had enough sense not to question him about it and didn’t try pressuring him into some other ‘more illustrious’ career worthy of a Malfoy.
“It… seemed like a good idea at the time,” he shrugged. It wasn’t a complete lie at least. “Neither of them are, and as far as I know there’s never been any other family that have gone into healing.”
--
Arran couldn’t help but wonder if healing no longer seemed like a good idea to Draco, but he had the good sense not to ask. If Draco was unhappy in his career, that was unlikely to be something he wanted to spend time discussing the first time he met his girlfriend’s brothers. (Arran was a little concerned Oliver would ask, but there was no discreet way to advise against it so Arran didn’t try.) “Not everyone wants to follow in their parents’ footsteps as much as we did,” he observed neutrally. “If they did, the world would be a lot more boring.”
The next logical line of questioning was to ask why Draco had gone into paediatrics, but since he was no longer sure Draco’s career was the most fruitful avenue, Arran cast around for something else. “Do you have siblings?” he asked. “I don’t remember any other Malfoys in Slytherin, but unless they played quidditch too it is possible I overlooked them.” Reminded, he glanced at Oliver. “I met someone the other day who swore blind they were the year above me. You remember a Fry in Slytherin your year? I think he was lying to try and get my autograph.” Arran had hung out mostly with quidditch players, especially in Slytherin, but he refused to believe he was so single-minded as to miss someone literally one year older.
--
Draco stating that becoming a Healer had seemed like a good idea at the time, made Oliver frown, and then do the very thing his brother had deemed too insensitive. “Don’t you want to be a Healer anymore?” Oliver asked. “Or like not the type of Healer you are? Is switching Healer-ing positions easy? Or do you need to like requalify? I guess maybe if you went into general practice a lot of things are similar? Is it harder to diagnose wee ones than it is to diagnose grown-ups?” Oliver asked in almost one breath, not really considering (because of course not) whether so many question were fair on Draco.
Reaching for his pint, Oliver shook his head at Arran. “What, from all those great friendships I made with Slytherins at school?” He said somewhat sarcastically. “But no, I don’t remember a Fry,” which Oliver didn’t actually think was an indication of there not having been one in his year. The whole of Oliver’s friendship group had revolved around Gryffindor and Quidditch, with Arran and Lydia being the very few friends Oliver had made in other houses. Arran had always been much better at cross-house friendships. Oliver, clearly, couldn’t even remember people’s names.
--
Thinking that maybe the subject would be dropped he was surprised when seemingly in one breath Oliver asked a multitude of questions that he only just followed. This definitely hadn’t been what he’d been expecting at all when he agreed to meet at the pub. “I haven’t changed my mind, no, about any of it,” he replied, before drinking some more of his pint. They were perfectly innocent questions really though the speed at which they’d been given was a little frustrating. “Paediatrics is actually already part of general practice, so it is essentially the same thing. Sort of.”
Hopefully there wouldn’t be any more questions on the whys and the ins and outs of being a Healer. At least not until he had more alcohol in his system. “No. There aren’t any Malfoy siblings floating about. It’s not really possible,” he replied, mumbling the latter. Not that he knew how he’d be if he did actually have siblings. But there was no possible way for him to ever find that out since his mother couldn’t conceive any more and had barely been fortunate enough to have given birth to himself. It was, he surmised, the main reason for her wish for there to be grandchildren in the near future whilst she was able to enjoy them. Though he wouldn’t be bring that up any time soon and with it a wave of questions he really didn’t feel up to answering.
Draco sighed. “Sorry, I know you’re only trying to get to know me or whatever and I’m not being particularly helpful.”
--
Arran had to fight not to roll his eyes as Oliver unleashed a barrage of questions on what was, Arran was increasingly convinced, an unwelcome subject. He loved his brother enormously, but tactful he was not. (Which, selfishly, made Arran wonder if telling Oliver the full story about Roger might be a mistake after all. He put it out of his mind for the time being, knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on that and Draco simultaneously.)
And then, it seemed, they blundered from one sore spot to another. Arran had no wish to force Draco to elaborate on his lack of siblings. Arran could hardly blame Draco for that, but it was a little frustrating that they didn’t seem to be able to find a comfortable conversation. Maybe they should just talk about Lottie, but that could be a minefield in its own right. “Are you thinking of taking any holidays this year?” Arran asked, silently judging himself for the horrible stereotype of a question. “Oliver’s just come back from Malawi.” He waved away Draco’s apology. Of course they were trying to get to know Draco (what would be the point of drinks otherwise?) and it wasn’t as if Draco was deliberately being unhelpful.
--
“Oh,” Oliver offered when Draco explained that paediatrics was already part of general practice. That made sense. Sort of. Oliver wanted to asks whether surgeons then didn’t separate into paediatrics and... grown-up-atrics. Perhaps wrongly, but Oliver had always presumed that there were those distinctions. This presumption wasn’t really based on anything other than his chats to his medi-witch sisters. But Oliver was acutely becoming aware that Draco didn’t really seem to want to answer any of his questions. In fact, Oliver wasn’t too convinced Draco wanted to be in this conversation at all, since he was yet to ask even a single question to Arran and Oliver.
At Draco’s apology, Oliver tilted his head slightly, taking a drink of his beer before carefully putting the pint back down. He sort of floated over Arran’s question, because again, it was them asking a question and Oliver didn’t actually want Draco to feel like this was an interrogation (it wasn’t, Oliver had just thought it might be nice to get to know someone their sister seemed very interested in). “You don’t have to hang out with us, Draco,” Oliver told the man blankly. “Like, I thought it’d be nice to get to know you, because Lottie likes you, but you’re not actually under any obligation to spend time with Arran and I? We’re not the sort of family that will take offence to it, especially not if we make you uncomfortable,” Oliver said, glancing at his brother for confirmation, which he was sure he would receive. Oliver wasn’t very good at awkward, so he didn’t really know what to make of someone who’d willingly enter a situation that they clearly weren’t enjoying.
--
He honestly wasn’t going out of his way to be some sort of stick in the mud and knew they were there to get to know each other; which kind of went both ways since aside from being her brothers and playing Quidditch he really didn’t know either bloke that well. Draco had just taken his last drink of his pint when Arran asked if he was planning on any holidays this year and coughed as the beer went down the wrong way when he remembered a holiday. Although it wasn’t a holiday in the strictest sense there was the weekend away at the hotel a little over a week ago. Though he definitely wasn’t about to mention that. “Uh yeah, maybe, if I can get the time off,” he replied after having recovered.
Draco shrugged. “It’s fine, kind of weird, but fine. To be honest I’ve never done the whole meet the family thing when dating before.”
--
Arran gave Oliver a minute shrug as his brother turned to him for confirmation. As far as he could see, with the possible exception of Oliver’s pre-conversation teasing, neither of them had done anything to make Draco feel uncomfortable. And while he wouldn’t take offence, Arran would find it a bit odd if Draco bailed on a civil conversation rather than just working with them to fix it. There was no reason that they all had to become bestest friends just because Draco was dating Lottie, but there was a wide range of options between best friends and open hostility and it seemed they ought to try to settle somewhere above ‘civil but uncommunicative’.
Taking his cue from Oliver, because continuing to present bland questions when Oliver had already addressed the elephant in the room would be odd, Arran turned back to Draco. “I don’t think it has to be weird,” he said. “We’re not here to judge whether you’re good enough for Lottie - she can do that for herself.” Was that what Draco was afraid of? But Draco didn’t actually seem nervous, more disinterested. “If it helps, this is the first time we’ve met a sister’s boyfriend. I’m open to constructive criticism. Should we be more menacing?” Glancing at his brother, Arran snorted, unconvinced that Oliver was capable of being menacing. “Or we could brag about Lottie’s accomplishments, as if you’re not already familiar?” Arran’s tone was teasing, but he was in no way sure his attempts to lighten the mood were going to hit their mark.
--
“I could be menacing,” Oliver said dramatically at Arran, because Oliver might be oblivious to a lot, but he knew his brother. The glance was enough to tell Oliver that Arran didn’t think Oliver could be very menacing, which was unfair. Oliver was tall. So that right there meant he could intimidate a... what were them animals that you had to make yourself look bigger than to scare them off? Hyenas? Oliver could totally intimidate a hyena. “Maybe just not menacing enough to scare a human,” Oliver muttered mostly under his breath as he reached for his pint.
Arran was sort of right in that they hadn’t met a sister’s boyfriend before. “We met Ronica’s husband before she married him,” Oliver said with a small frown. Mind you, Ronica had been married for almost fifteen years, which meant that Oliver and Lottie had been around twelve and Arran had been eleven or ten at their wedding. Oliver was pretty sure Ronica had dated Will for about four years before that. “We were kids, though,” Oliver admitted with a shrug. “He played hide and seek with us. I’m not sure that’ll quite work here,” even if Oliver suspected his brother was quite close to playing at least part of that game.
--
“To be honest I had kind of expected you to be a little,” he admitted. “I don’t know whether you’d be insulted or feel proud of her, but if I’m being honest Celia was kind of more intimidating than you two.” Not to the point of feeling properly intimidated perhaps but for someone so tiny he’d been surprised at how intimidating a figure she’d made; and it had been obvious she cared for her sister. “You could, but that might be a little one-sided since I’d only be agreeing how brilliant she is.”
Draco had almost forgotten that there were other siblings; which wasn’t too unusual since he didn’t really know much about them beyond their names and the fact there was a bit of an age gap between the two groups of siblings. “Not in a pub at any rate,” he commented. “Probably about as practical as trying to play it in a hospital ward and trying to stay out of people’s way.”
--
“Perhaps,” Arran conceded, in deference to Oliver’s wounded look, “you could menace a very small kitten.” He thought for a moment, appraising Oliver for potential menace. “Or a robin. I’ll bet the robins find you terrifying, zooming around in their sky where you don’t belong.” The same could, of course, be said of Arran who did just as much zooming about (if not more, what with his interest in stunt flying and broom racing).
Turning back to Draco, Arran presented him with a blank look. “I don’t feel insulted or particularly proud,” he said honestly. If anything, a little incredulous that Draco could be so easily intimidated. Celia was the sweet one. Afraid his affected neutrality might be unkind, Arran relented. “I’d imagine it would be one-sided, yes,” he agreed. That had, actually, been his point. “I suppose we could take the opposite approach and tell you all her embarrassing stories. But I’m afraid I didn’t bring any baby photos. Did you?” he asked, directing the last question at Oliver, even though he knew what the answer would be.
“I’d think the hospital would be more accommodating,” he observed. “At least there you’d have the excuse that their children. People would just assume we’re drunk and they’d have no patience at all.”
--
“I could definitely menace more than a robin! Like, maybe not an eagle, because they’re super big, but like a medium sized crow? I could take that,” Oliver informed his brother. He didn’t point out that kittens were quite fearless, so Oliver wouldn’t actually take his bets with one of those, but birds Oliver could menace for sure. Unless they were big birds of prey. In which case they could peck Oliver and he didn’t think he was up to that.
Oliver somewhat disagreed with Arran in regards of whether Celia could be intimidating. He was pretty sure she could be, but just never would be to any of her siblings. Still, Oliver had no wish to intimidate Draco or whatever it was that he had expected. Oliver really did just want to get to know the other man. “I didn’t bring any photos, no,” Oliver said with a shake of his head. “Though, I bet mum would be super happy to show some off,” he added before pausing. “Now she is someone it’s totally worth being intimidated by,” Oliver told Draco. Evelyn White-Wood was an amazing woman, but even Oliver was sometimes intimidated by her. In a loving way, of course, because his mum was fantastic, but still. “She doesn’t suffer fools gladly,” he said before shrugging slightly. “Well, ones she didn’t give birth to, anyway,” Oliver added mostly jokingly.
“Do you think Charlie thinks Celia’s intimidating?” Oliver asked glancing at Arran, before looking back at Draco. “Charlie’s my boyfriend,” Oliver explained, since he didn’t know if Draco would be aware of it. Oliver doubted his love life was a top priority topic of conversation between Lottie and Draco.
--
His gaze flicked between the two trying not to react, mostly trying not to snort or laugh, to the mental imagery flicking through his mind at the thought of anyone trying to intimidate any bird life. It really did seem ridiculous. He shrugged. “I didn’t feel particularly intimidated by her; it was just the way she came across is all.”
Draco was only slightly disappointed, not that he would’ve expected either to be carrying photos around, as he wouldn’t be able to tease Lottie about them when he saw her later. It was probably just as well since if he admitted to seeing them she’d be wanting to see his own and well… did anyone actually relish the thought of sharing embarrassing baby photos? Although he was pretty certain, should they meet, that his mother would have no such qualms in sharing any baby photos with Lottie. “I’m sure Lottie will be happy I’ve not seen any of those photos,” he commented. “I’m almost glad, since she then can’t ask to see mine in return.”
“I can imagine,” he said. He supposed that eventually he would have to meet their parents and that Lottie would then meet his. It likely wouldn’t be as bad as his mind was making out it would go. Though it didn’t stop him from dreading that fact that sometime in the near future parental meetings would have to happen. Especially now that he’d met all but two of Lottie’s siblings.
“You’re right,” he conceded. “Though I was thinking more of the availability of hiding spots. Neither place is really practical for that. Though the kids don’t seem to mind too much.”
“Right,” he said at Oliver’s explanation. He hadn’t actually known, though there was some vague recollection that Lottie might have mentioned it once but he wasn’t entirely sure.
--
“You don’t want to take on a crow,” Arran informed Oliver. “They’re some of the most intelligent birds, and they can even use tools, sort of.” He didn’t mean to imply that Oliver wasn’t intelligent, and it didn’t occur to him until too late that it might sound that way. He knew Oliver wouldn’t take offence, and if Draco had an opinion about the brothers’ relationship then Arran didn’t care to hear it. “You could definitely intimidate a turkey,” he added, placatingly. “And probably several species of penguin.” He grinned, picturing Oliver chasing an Emperor penguin over the ice until it escaped into the sea.
Arran personally agreed that their mum was, definitely, the family member most worth being nervous about. Saying so probably wouldn’t be helpful to Draco’s nerves when the time came, and Lottie might have sharp words about frightening her boyfriend. “It’s not so bad,” Arran assured Draco. “At least four partners survived meeting her.” It wasn’t quite the same for Ronica’s husband, of course, seeing as Evelyn was her step-mother. He’d still had to meet her, though, and it wasn’t as if Ronica and Evelyn didn’t get along. Cariad, Arran remembered, had handled it wonderfully. Of course, she’d been good with all his family, which was a thing Arran wasn’t going to think about right now.
Draining his glass, Arran pushed it to one side and glanced at Draco and Oliver’s drinks. Either they were going to have to call it a night, or get another round. Arran knew which he’d prefer. Right as he was about to speak, Oliver directed a question at him. “Charlie works with dragons,” he pointed out. “I doubt he finds anything very intimidating.” This was probably not true, because dealing with people’s families needed an entirely different kind of courage to facing down a dragon, but Arran still thought it was unlikely to be Celia that Charlie found daunting. “Another round?” he asked, gesturing to the table.
--
“Tools like knives and shields for self-defense? I think fucking not,” Oliver told his brother, kicking him under the table rather childishly. He was sure he could take on a calm crow. Turkeys, though, were quite big, weren’t they? Oliver wasn’t sure he could intimidate a big bird. Some penguins, however, definitely. “Unless they’re in a herd. Pack? Murder!” It had to be one of those, Oliver was sure.
Oliver nodded when Arran assured Draco that it wasn’t actually that bad to meet their mum, because he was right. Charlie had managed, and sure he might’ve had the advantage of having know Evelyn since they were kids, but still. (Though, maybe Arran was right and working with dragons did help.) Cariad had managed, too. She had been quite nice, really. And Oliver was sure that whoever Celia would bring home one day would be met with a(n eventually) warm welcome. The Woods were a very welcoming family.
As if to illustrate his point, Oliver nodded. “I’ll get this,” he told his brother and Draco, standing up. Oliver might’ve gotten the previous round too, but it was hardly as if he was poor, besides, this only meant that now they owed him two rounds each. “Try convincing him of those matching tattoos,” Oliver instructed, before wonder off to the bar.