Who: Daphne Greengrass and Roger Davies What: Vented frustration When: Evening, 29 September Where: Roger's home Warnings: Low Status: Completed in docs
By the time that Daphne finished working that evening, she was angrier than she ever remembered being. The conversation with Tracey had struck a nerve with her and she couldn't seem to come down from that annoyance no matter how hard she had tried. She hadn't expected Tracey to be thrilled that she was sort of seeing someone, but the way she'd reacted because that someone happened to be male pissed Daphne off more than she thought it would. She'd all but said that it was just to avoid being different like Roger was some sort of cop out or that she was using him to avoid telling her parents how she felt about women. That wasn't the case and the fact that Tracey thought such a thing angered her. The feelings she had for Roger, confusing as they were, weren't there because she was trying to hide who she was from anyone. She hadn't been ready to tell her parents one way or the other and likely wouldn't be ready anytime soon, but that had nothing to do with Roger.
Daphne found herself at his door with a bottle of wine and a hope that he wasn't busy. When he opened the door, she let out a breath. "Got time to drink away frustrations with me?," she asked, holding up the bottle. "Please?"
--
It wasn’t like Roger and Daphne had a schedule, or even an agreement, and honestly, Roger wasn’t sure he wanted one, as if agreeing to meet on a particular evening was somehow going to make this more something. Still, Roger had sort of presumed that their weekend-Wednesday-weekend-Wednesday-maybe!weekend thing was... well, a thing. So having Daphne appear on Roger’s doorstep for a second night in a row was unexpected. As much was indicated by the fact that Roger had the living room table peppered with paperwork that he was trying to sort out. Not that he had been doing that, instead, Roger had been reading the notebook Daphne had left behind. So her arrival didn’t exactly disrupt Roger, though he did frown at her. Not so much about the question as the added ‘please’.
The temptation to shut the door in her face was great but before Roger could even entertain the thought properly, he was already taking a step back to let Daphne in. “What frustrations are we drinking away?” He asked walking to the kitchen to fetch wine glasses, taking the bottle from Daphne so he could open it.
--
She let him have the bottle and stepped into the room, heaving a sigh and trying to decide where the best place to start would be. "I spoke to Tracey," she told him. "She sent me a ward because we hadn't talked in a few weeks. She'd said she wanted to be friends then, but I didn't expect her to put much effort into it. She asked how I've been and I told her that I was doing fine and that I'd been spending time with someone and as soon as she found out that the someone was a guy, she basically told me that I was only seeing a guy as a way to avoid being different," Daphne said. It was just as frustrating repeating it as it had been hearing it.
"Like she has any right to be angry with me for going on about my business when she wanted me to. She made the decision for me, what right does she have to try and make me feel like I'm doing something wrong?" It was frustrating to say the very least and as Daphne moved to sit down on the sofa, she dropped her bag beside it. "Seeing you has nothing to do with trying not to be a lesbian. I like spending time with you. We're friends. What the fuck is her problem?"
--
Pouring the wine into the glasses, Roger carried both of them and the bottle into the living room, handing Daphne a glass before putting both is and the bottle down to move all the paperwork away as he listened to Daphne rant. Because, really, that’s what it was. What it wasn’t, though, was crying, so Roger felt he was definitely able to deal with this. It wasn’t a great deal of emotion other than frustration and Daphne mostly seemed to just want to be angry rather than seek comfort. Roger was confident he was an excellent choice for someone to be angry at or near by.
Given, apart from pouring out wine which Daphne had provided and frowning at the, hopefully, correct places, Roger wasn’t quite sure what he could contribute to this. It was hardly as if he could explain how or why Daphne’s ex thought about--well, to be fair, Roger supposed that him and Daphne also weren’t terribly clear on what the fuck was going on. At least he was rather confident in saying that she wasn’t having sex with him in order to not be a lesbian. The sex ought to be worse (and less) if that was the case.
“I have literally nothing useful to say,” Roger told Daphne honestly because he didn’t. He supposed he could attempt to explain why Tracey, who Roger neither knew nor particularly cared to ever meet, might say what she had, but really, Roger didn’t particularly care to. “Why is it so important that you’re gay?” He asked honestly curious.
--
Daphne wasn't angry because Tracey had an opinion about her seeing someone or because she'd decided to break things off but because she seemed to think that she knew how Daphne should react or think. She seemed to assume that she was lying and that pissed Daphne off more than anything else. She was confused, but she wasn't pretending. Roger had been unexpected, but he wasn't a tool that she was using to keep from being a lesbian. The fact that Tracey even thought that for a moment angered her more than Daphne could put into words.
"I don't know," she said. "I'm just really pissed off that she thinks she has the right to tell me how I am feeling or what I'm doing. I didn't go into the bar looking for some guy to parade around with. You're not some prized peacock that I want everyone to see. If anything I want to keep you to myself because I like the way I feel when I'm around you and I don't want to share that with anyone." Admitting that hadn't been something she'd intended to do, but Daphne didn't leave it there long enough to be noticed before she continued on. "I just hate for someone to tell me that I'm doing something for a certain reason when it's not the case."
She frowned and leaned back against the sofa cushion, then looked up at Roger. "I'm sorry for thrusting all of this into your lap," she told him. "I think I just needed someone to let me bitch about it. I feel better now, though."
--
Roger thought he got what Daphne meant. Plenty of people presumed they knew how Roger felt about things. Whether it be family or relationships or a string of other things, and in a way, he supposed, a lot of those ascribed feelings were how he should feel. It wasn’t quite the same, though. Probably. Going from a thing with a girl who you couldn’t tell your parents about to a thing with a guy who was the right social standing and blood purity level as you? It did kind of sound like doing it for appearances. Except they weren’t dating. They weren’t engaged to get married. They weren’t even telling people. Not that there was anything to tell. They were friends. Or well, so Daphne had claimed and Roger really liked the idea of it, even if he couldn’t explain why.
The bit where Daphne said that she wanted to keep Roger to herself because she enjoyed the way she felt around him, well, Roger decided to skip over that entirely. He had no intention to ask himself whether he felt like that, too, not when the answer could very likely be ‘yes’. “Hey, at least you brought wine,” Roger said raising his glass at Daphne’s apology. Then, when she said she felt better, Roger blinked. “I didn’t help with that, did I?” He asked maybe a touch too hopefully. “I don’t think I want you to think I can help with things,” Roger told her really quite frankly.
--
"I think you have a habit of helping without realizing that you are," Daphne said. It mattered little if he wanted to be helpful or not. Roger just was. Being around him helped considerably. She wasn't nearly as angry now as she had been when she'd first arrived. Maybe he hadn't done anything to really steer her in one direction or another, but he'd listened and let her vent her frustrations on him. That had been helpful in its own way.
Daphne took a sip of her wine and shrugged her shoulders. "I think she should be glad I didn't tell her how fantastic the sex is," she commented. If she'd really wanted to be a bitch, she could have. That, though, was just one more thing that she wanted to keep to herself. Roger was a fantastic secret.
--
“I hope that is not something you intend to spread around,” Roger told her with a slight groan when Daphne told him that he was being helpful without trying to. “It’ll spoil my whole reputation as being utterly incompetent and incapable of dealing with feelings,” both of which were things Roger knew people thought of him and really, he couldn’t even blame them since it was true. Evidently, though, true unless it came to Daphne, who found Roger helpful.
The comment of how she could’ve told her ex about how good the sex was made Roger snort. “I doubt it’d convince her that you’re not just playing house with me,” Roger told Daphne honestly, taking a sip of his wine. “Does it bother you?” He asked. “That people, other than Tracey, might think you’re shagging me to pretend you’re not gay?” Roger had no idea how he’d feel in Daphne’s situation. He’d been lucky to never need to question his sexuality. From what he had learned so far of Daphne, it seemed a rather unpleasant and confusing process to go through.
--
"Your secret is safe with me," Daphne said, smirking at him. "I'll let them all think that you're completely incompetent. Promise." Maybe he was to others, but Daphne found him very helpful both with her writing and with random other things that kept popping up along the way.
"I know," she said, sighing. "I was very tempted to be petty regardless." Rubbing it in Tracey's face as payback for being such a pain in the ass would have felt nice for at least a second or two. She didn't want to hurt Tracey, though. That had never been her intention. The question made her shrug. "Yes and no," she settled on. "I know that it might look that way from the outside and I understand that people are going to think what they want to think. I guess I just want you to know that this isn't about me pretending anything. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be." It occurred to her then that it wasn't so much what Tracey believed but what Roger might think that was bothering her. Daphne didn't want him to think he was being used as some sort of cover. The fact that she cared at all was terribly bothersome, but it didn't make it any less true.
--
The thought that Daphne might be pretending honestly hadn’t even entered Roger’s mind. Perhaps it was because of how they’d gotten there, of how he’d offered to be her experiment if she wanted to, or perhaps it was because the sex really was fantastic. Mostly, though, Roger didn’t question it because he did believe that if Daphne hadn’t wanted to be there, she wouldn’t. “I don’t think you’re pretending,” Roger offered. “I suppose maybe if we had met differently? But even then...” Roger shrugged as the sentence trailed off.
“I think you’re many things, Daph,” he told her after a pause. “You’re interesting, passionate and confident, yet somehow also at times self-conscious. And you’re fun and playful if you want to be,” Roger said watching her carefully. “And I’m sure you can be plenty of wicked and spiteful,” he added since there seemed little point in not doing so. “But what you’re really not is someone who’d be okay with using someone else,” and sure, Roger might’ve know her for less than two weeks but he didn’t think he was wrong. “And if your ex doesn’t know that? Well, I’m not sure she knows you all that well at all, then,” Roger concluded with a shrug before having more if his wine.
--
Hearing Roger list off a chain of words that made her feel very special was both pleasing and depressing at the same time. It wasn't until he finished that Daphne realized what the real problem was and why she'd been so upset. "That's it," she said, shaking her head at being so completely foolish enough not to realize sooner. "That's what makes me so angry. We've known each other more than half our lives and she doesn't know me at all. She thinks that she's got me so figured out that she can just tell me what I'm feeling or why I'm doing something and it couldn't be more wrong."
She took another sip of her wine and sat the glass aside, turning to face him a little more as she leaned an elbow against the back of the sofa. "The fact that you can more accurately describe me and what I like, what I'm all about, than she can and you've not even known me a month…," she shrugged her shoulder. "I guess I just feel really stupid for thinking that I loved someone that doesn't know the first thing about me."
--
“Don’t they say something about love being blind?” Roger offered somewhat jokingly. It wasn’t just humourous, though, because in a way, Roger was trying to assure Daphne that whatever she had felt for her ex wasn’t--he wasn’t even sure what. Wrong? The problem was that Roger had no idea why he was trying to assure Daphne. He did think that it was a pretty sad state of affairs when someone you considered a friend didn’t really know you, but Roger also couldn’t quite identify how close of friends they had been. He knew that Arran knew him, even if they had spent over twelve months not talking to each other. But he’d never been in love with Arran. Roger also knew that Lydia knew him, and he had been in love with her. Sort of. Probably.
Finishing the wine in his glass, Roger put it down on the coffee table, next to his now neatly piled up paperwork. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love,” he said before giving a dramatic sigh. “I really have no idea why I tell you these things,” Roger told Daphne with a shake of his head. The lack of understanding didn’t make him not say things, though. Reaching across the sofa, Roger brushed his hand against Daphne’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re pretending to not be a lesbian with me,” Roger admitted and it really did feel quite a bit like an actual admission.
--
Daphne snorted softly at that. Maybe he was somewhat right, though. There was a good chance that she'd just been blind to the fact that they'd both changed a lot since school. Maybe she didn't know Tracey as well as she thought she did either. Being angry about it wasn't going to help, though. She didn't want to waste all of her energy on such a negative emotion.
Roger's admissions had her looking at him with a little bit of surprise. "Maybe because you hit on lesbians," she teased. As for being glad that she was there, pretending or otherwise, Daphne smiled and scooted closer, leaning in to steal a quick kiss from him. "Me too." She still wasn't all that certain what they were doing, but it didn't really matter. She was glad to be there with him for as long as he'd let her and if that meant not questioning it, Daphne wasn't going to. "What are you working on?," she asked, motioning to the stacked paperwork. "Anything I can help with?"
--
Roger laughed at Daphne’s assessment that perhaps his failing was that he hit on lesbians. “I don’t know,” he said shifting so she could move closer, returning the brief kiss he was offered. Moving his arm, Roger pulled Daphne in closer against him. “It’s worked out alright for me so far,” he added teasingly. It was true, as far as Roger was aware he had hit on exactly one lesbian in his life and she had turned out to not be gay, so that really was hundred percent success rate.
Following her gaze to the paperwork, Roger shrugged. “It’s just work,” he said. “Tick the right boxes, put the right names in places, ensure everyone’s getting their requested time off,” he explained. “It’s not very thrilling,” which was true, but then Roger didn’t think any of his work was very thrilling. “I was reading your notebook, actually,” he admitted, pointing at the notebook that sat next to the paperwork, half-open and filled with comments. “It’s a lot more interesting than my paperwork,” which was also very true. Roger found editing and writing comments on Daphne’s writing a lot more enjoyable, which perhaps wasn’t surprising because it was both good writing and not forms.
Turning his head so he could press another kiss against Daphne’s lips, Roger gave a small sigh into the kiss. “I like it when you’re here,” he admitted. “Which is probably an indication of nothing good,” because it probably wasn’t. “Are you staying?”
--
Daphne settled in against Roger effortlessly. It really shouldn't have been so easy to fit in next to him the way that she did, but it was. "This is true," she agreed. It hadn't been a bad thing that he'd hit on a lesbian in her case, mostly because lesbian was starting to sound less and less like a word that truly described her.
Her attention moved from the paperwork to her notebook when he admitted he'd been more interested in the latter. It made her smile a little even if she felt the tiniest bit of guilt for taking his attention away from his work. The tiniest bit. Having someone on the outside like her work made her feel like she was on the right track. Maybe she did have talent. It was true that Roger was only a single opinion, but his notes had given her an insight into her own work and she thought she was better for it.
"Maybe it would be something good if you weren't spending all your time thinking it was a bad thing," she teased, giving him a little smile. "I can stay. I'd like to stay."
--
It was very hard to disagree with Daphne’s logic that if Roger didn’t think of it as a bad thing, it wouldn’t seem like one. But Roger wasn’t sure where that would leave him. In a dangerous territory, he imagined. One that bordered far too close to things starting with R and ending with ‘elationship’ and Roger really didn’t think he was in a position to--nope, definitely not, if the way his stomach turned at the idea was any indication. Roger much rather carried on telling himself that he didn’t know what the fuck was going on because he kind of didn’t since it didn’t feel like any relationship he had been in before.
“Then stay,” Roger told her. That, too, was a dangerous road to go down. Sleepovers weren’t really something Roger had ever done with anyone he didn’t call a girlfriend and really, even with those that hadn’t always been a thing with. “What do you want to do?” Roger asked with a small smirk. “We still have more than half a bottle of frustration wine left,” he added looking over at where the bottle sat.
--
That little smirk was amusing and it made Daphne grin. Reaching for her nearly empty wine glass, she finished off the last sip and held it up. "I think that finishing off the frustration wine is a good start," she told him. Not thinking about how confusing the entirety of their not-quite-relationship was or how confusing Tracey's reaction to hearing about Roger was sounded like a damn fine idea to Daphne. If she could just pretend that none of that was going on, she'd be just fine.
"How many times have you ended up tipsy box ticking?," she asked, eyes flicking to the papers on the table again. "Two out of three times?," she teased.
--
When Daphne said that they could at least finish the wine, Roger reached for the bottle, topping both of their glasses up before giving a shake of his head at her question. “I’m pretty shit at my job as it is,” he told her honestly. “I try not to make it worse by being drunk,” that and there was also the fact that Roger was acutely aware of the fact that he really, really should not drink every evening, because that was a slippery slope that would mostly end with him being an alcoholic. So far, he felt, at least, he’d been managing it quite well, only touching the edges of what could be.
“Tipsy notebook editing, though...” He said teasingly, but really, Roger didn’t think he’d do that either. It didn’t seem fair on either Daphne or the work to do that. Roger didn’t know why but he felt rather invested in doing an actually good job in writing comments in her notebooks. He was still dubious of whether they helped but it was becoming harder and harder to tell himself they didn’t, when Roger could actually see the progression.
Taking a sip of his wine, Roger shifted, making himself more comfortable against Daphne and choosing to ignore the knowledge that they were literally currently cuddling on the sofa. “Speaking of which,” he said giving a small wave towards the notebook with his glass. “You want a challenge?”
--
Daphne didn't blame him for not wanting to work while drinking. She felt a little bad for appearing at his door with liquor when he was supposed to be working, but he didn't seem to mind too much. Maybe none of those paper were all that pressing. Surely he would say something if they were. She hoped that he wouldn't because she was quite comfortable there curled against him on the sofa. Even if that was terribly confusing as many things were when she was in his presence. Confusing or not, it still felt nice.
Her eyes went to the notebook again when he mentioned a challenge. "What sort of a challenge?," she asked. She couldn't deny that she was a little curious what he might have in mind.
--
“A writing challenge,” Roger replied. He had thought about it, which in itself was a bit surprising, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d actually come up with something. “Two challenges, really, but one of them is less exciting than the other,” he added with small amusement. When Daphne didn’t object, Roger carried on. “One, I want you to write a whole chapter. It doesn’t have to be the first chapter, but it’s got to be a chapter that would fit in the story if the story was a book,” he explained doing another small wave towards the notebook. Roger didn’t think that was particularly straining since Daphne had all the information she needed to write an actual chapter rather than random scenes and outlines.
After taking a sip of his wine, Roger carried on. “The other challenge, that is more exciting and challenging, is that the chapter can’t have any dialogue,” he explained. “For now,” Roger added before Daphne could comment. “So you describe what they say rather than say what they say,” Roger told her. “Afterwards, when you edit, that can be changed, but for now it should help with exploring what motivates the characters to say something?” He phrased it as a question because Roger only assumed it would help. Maybe he needed to buy some books on how to write, so his advice-slash-challenge would have some more grounded basis.
--
Two challenges. Challenges that Roger had very obviously done some thinking on. A whole chapter wouldn't be that difficult, she thought. She had plenty of ideas and information about what she wanted to write about. It wouldn't be difficult to put all of that into a chapter. The fact that it didn't have to be the first chapter would help considerably as well. Even if she didn't know how she wanted to start the book, she could certainly figure out a chapter within it.
The second challenge was a bit more difficult. Not being able to have any dialogue was certainly an interesting route to go and she thought that Roger might be onto something in his explanation. Understanding the motivation behind the characters and what they wanted to say would give her the chance to get to know her characters better. While they were figments of her imagination, that didn't mean that they didn't have hopes or dreams or fears. Not being able to use dialogue would give her the chance to tap into those emotions.
"Where do you come up with these things?," she asked him. "Are you sure you've never done this before?"
--
Roger wasn't really sure what the answer to Daphne's question was. Well, he certainly knew he had never helped someone with their writing before but what Roger didn't know was where the sort of almost knowledge came from. It was simply that when he read Daphne's writing it made sense, the comments he wrote. The idea of giving her challenged was similar. Roger wanted Daphne to be able to write and to improve which was ridiculous because Roger had never cared for someone's improvement, much less actively tried to help.
"I don't know," he offered honestly. "It just seems... obvious," he admitted with a shrug, knowing he'd used the same description for how he edited her work more generally. "And I think it would help you progress?" Roger added since it just made sense. Not that he had the first clue how. "I might have to buy a book on suggestions for novel writers, though," he told Daphne in a teasing tone, almost as if he hadn't already decided to do just that.
--
The fact that he wanted to help her progress wasn't lost on Daphne. She doubted very much that Roger went out of his way to help people usually and that fact alone was making her wonder why now and why her. Whatever the reason, she was appreciative of the help. He was helping her improve. She could see it in her own writing every time that she sat down with his notes in mind and started to write. She was taking those suggestions to heart and improving and she doubted that she would be doing as much improvement without him and his notes.
She grinned at the mention of buying a book on suggestions. Even if he'd meant it teasingly, it still amused her. "I don't know," she told him. "I think you're doing pretty well on your own."
--
It felt nice to have Daphne assure him that the comments Roger wrote, the suggestions he made, were actually good, that he was doing quite well with that. Roger didn’t quite know what to do with that feeling. Being praised for things was something Roger had experienced a lot in his life. If at all, really. He’d been quite good at Quidditch but the Ravenclaw captains had tended to prefer criticism to compliments in order to ensure better play (which, fair enough, had worked). So actually being told he was doing well? Roger had no idea what he was meant to do with that. So he ignored it. And the feeling Daphne’s compliment had brought in the first place.
“I’m assuming you’ll take the challenges then?” Roger asked before giving her a grin. “I’ll even prepare prizes, promise,” he added before leaning in closer to brush a line of kisses against Daphne’s neck. “In fact, I’m happy to offer incentives,” on the presumption, at least, that Daphne would accept sex as incentives, which, really, Roger assumed she would.