William Weasley (thebestweasley) wrote in snitchers, @ 2017-08-16 23:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | char: charles weasley, char: oliver wood |
Who: Charlie Weasley and Oliver Wood
What: Catching up
Where: Oliver's apartment
When: Backdated to August 7th
Rating: Low.
Status: Half logged in gdocs, continuing here.
Charlie had spent a large potion of his day catching up with his sister, and her many, many announcements about the state of his family while he had been gone. A part of him was guilty for everything he had missed, but... Charlie had a life to live, and his family had to understand that. Even if some of them were still angry with him, something that actually made him sick to his stomach with anxiety to think about, he had to believe he had made the correct choice.
And now, after spending several days at the Leaky and with several possible apartment prospects in mind, Charlie decided it might be nice to stay with some friends for a while. Making his way to Oliver's place with a mid grade bottle of whiskey in hand, and his bag in the other, Charlie knocked gently, waiting patiently for his old friend to answer. It was about time they caught up. Hell, it was about time he caught up with everyone...
When the door finally opened, he offered the bottle of whiskey with a smile. "Your offer to stay a bit still good, mate?"
Quidditch season was in full swing and Oliver spent disturbingly - no: alarmingly - little time in his apartment. He would go there to take a bath (Puddlemere's locker rooms, nice as they are, couldn't hold up to a proper bath), eat and sleep and even then it wasn't more than four hours of sleep before waking up to start his morning runs. He got perfectly used to running on fumes because this season was going to be the season they won. It had to be.
Normally, he and Terence would go out for a drink post-practice, bemoaning their aching limbs and tiredness, but that had stopped all together after the explosion at the festival and - if by the way Terence continued to ignore Oliver's existence - would not resume in the future. So Oliver, miserable, locked himself up in his apartment with a good bottle of whatever interested him and something on the tell, usually old black and white gangster movies.
He'd been doing just that, laid out on the couch with a bottle of brandy and starting with unseeing eyes as the screen flickered before him. Oliver had been pondering if he should reach out to Katie; it had been four days since their encounter and her disappearance with a note. Of course he really should have been talking to Emilia, though his insides squirmed with guilt every time he thought of her.
The knock on the door forced Oliver back to the present and his heart hammered wildly... Was it Katie? Emilia? Or worse, a wandholder? He crossed the sitting room and peered out the small peep hole to see a familiar mop of flaming red hair atop a broad, good natured face.
"Charlie!" Oliver yelped with glee, throwing open the door and seizing the man into a tight hug. "Of course, mate! C'mon."
Charlie couldn't help but notice that Oliver might have started the drinking party without him, but Merlin, was he the last man to say anything about that. Really, Oliver probably deserved it more than most, considering how hard Charlie knew he worked. Even back at school, he had seen Oliver's drive to make it in the Quidditch world. He had no doubt that eventually, he would be on a winning team. Hell, he'd make it to captain one day too. When Charlie left the reigns of the Quidditch team in Ollie's capable hands, he never had any doubt he would lead them to victory, and the man standing in front of him had done nothing but prove him right.
And not being one to shy away from physical affection, Charlie hugged Oliver back with a fervor, tearing away only to pull him into one more hug before taking his friends invitation and making his way inside. Looking around, he noticed the glow of the muggle telly, and instantly smiled. "You have one of those contraptions then, mate? Merlin, my father would lose his mind," he said with a laugh, unable to stop his mind from wandering to Arthur. He hadn't seen him in... a long while. It was even more difficult now given his father's status with the rest of his family, and Charlie still being a part of society.
Maybe he needed that drink far more than he thought. "Want to crack this open mate? Think I could do with a drink myself. And do you want me to put my bag somewhere? Don't want to go cluttering up your space with my junk." Charlie Weasley may have lived among wild dragons for years, but he hadn't forgotten his manners along the way...
A pearl of laughter slipped from Oliver as Charlie pulled him in for another hug, happy to oblige. Oliver, an extremely extroverted person, craved contact from endless touching to constant conversations. Having lost Terence, all his friends rebels and feeling the strain of the ever tightening leash Puddlemere kept him on, Oliver felt starved for company.
"Mmyeah," he grinned in an embarrassed sort of way. "Muggle flat and all; I have some other interesting appliances. Quite clever how they've gotten on without magic, Muggles." Indeed, Oliver found his life benefited from having an electric clothing washer and dryer, not to mention various other gadgets (including his favorite: a microwave).
"We'll open it up once you get settled. The guest room is this one," he led Charlie to a door tucked between the kitchen and the sitting room then turned left. "You'll have to share the bath though, sorry mate. I don't take too long of showers." Oliver opened the door to the guest room and hurried off to fetch two glasses.
"Oh mate, one bathroom? Do you realize how much upkeep and maintenance a mug this handsome requires?" He asked, though he was clearly joking. Honestly, his hygiene on the preserve hadn't been the best. It wasn't as though he was disgusting or anything. But he was no stranger to going a few days without a proper wash... Or shave. He'd need to get better about that now that he was back. He didn't really hate much of an excuse. Winking in Oliver's direction and chuckling to himself, he put his bag down in the guest room and didn't waste much time in changing out of his day clothes into a pair of old sweatpants and a black t-shirt, figuring they wouldn't exactly be going out on the town just then. Honestly, everything had been such a whirlwind since he had gotten back, a night in with a good mate seemed like the absolute perfect plan, and one he was looking forward too.
Wandering his way back out into the shared kitchen and living room area and took a seat at a stool. He pushed the bottle in Oliver's direction instructing him to fill them both up and not be shy about it, and waited patiently until he had a glass in hand. Taking a long pull, Charlie appreciated the burn of the alcohol, and was happy he had splurged for something mid grade. He wasn't about to drink absolute trash that night...
"So, mate. How are things going? I feel like I need to ask every question in existence since it's been so long. How's the team looking? And more importantly, how are you? Any major changes to report? Lay it all on me."
Oliver only rolled his eyes in response as he turned, leaving Charlie time to unpack. Usually this would only take a few moments thanks to the ease of access to the liquor cabinet, but figured his guest would want a few moments to himself, and went about tidying up the relatively clean flat. A perk of not having a reason to go out meant no excuses in skipping chores.
He'd set out the two glasses - charmed frozen - on the dining room table and tucked away Katie's note as Charlie sidled up to the stool.
"Hmm," So much had happen in the past four years that Oliver felt overwhelmed. How could one compress all the worry, anxiety, and meteoric rise to fame that he'd experienced in that time. Popping the cap from the whiskey, giving it a appreciative sniff and enjoying the scraping of alcoholic fumes, he poured a generous serving for the both of them. "Well, I'm in damn near every magazine and advertisement. So I suppose that's something to drink to." He remarked with dark humor coloring his words. "Still with Puddlemere, still haven't won but mark my words, mate, this is our year."
Oliver clinked his glass to Charlie's. "Honestly, I'm the same as before. And Puddlemere... Merlin we have some wicked talent. Though they stupidly traded out Alicia Spinnet, remember her?"
Nodding at Oliver's words, Charlie had to admit, he knew some of it. Just because he was away in another country didn't mean he was completely cut off. But he really only knew the bare minimum. Oliver was playing. The plethora of advertisements that he apparently starred in was new, but then again, unsurprising. Such an up and coming Quidditch star was bound to be in the spotlight. For a moment he thought back to Viktor Krum's peak days. Charlie couldn't go anywhere without seeing his face.
"Good for you, mate, really," Charlie said to the other man, his voice full of absolute sincerity. "I always, always knew you had it in you, and I have no doubt you'll win it big. After all, I wouldn't have made you captain if I didn't think you had the right stuff. I appreciate you for proving me right." Flashing a wink in his direction, Charlie took another drink, a slight look of concern crossing his features at the news of the trade. "That so? Well, that was a dumb decision on their part. Breaking of the Gryffindor star players? Merlin, they're really going to have to work out that mistake, aye?" Shaking his head, Charlie relaxed a bit more, running a hand through his messy hair, knowing that if his mother were still around, the first thing she would have done was fuss about his long locks. He missed that woman something fierce. Being back here brought it all rushing back to him, but he did his best to keep it at bay. He couldn't run forever, after all.
"What about socially speaking. You got a girlfriend? Or is it multiple girlfriends? Or are you more focused on the game?" He might have been purposefully pushing the conversation to be more about Oliver than himself, but he was waiting for the moment when the tables were suddenly turned, and Charlie was in the spotlight.
A flush not related to the alcohol in his system crept up Oliver's cheeks. "Really," he bit down nervously on his lower lip, blue eyes peering up through the curtain of dark blond lashes. "It's because of you, mate. If you hadn't made me captain..." His voice trailed off, remembering that fateful day: Charlie, without saying why, informed Oliver of his decision to pass the captaincy to him. At first the lack of reasoning competed with the raging fire of joy dancing in his chest. Shaking off the rush of sentimental gratitude with a drink, Oliver waved off the subject.
"Mm, well, the Harpies snapped her up. I'm not one to criticize my team and their bizzo," though the tone in Oliver's voice said otherwise. Truthfully, he had many thoughts on Puddlemere and how they handled business, though a good little product knew to sit quietly on the shelf. "But they went an' pooched that one. Fooking dobbers. Heid-the-baw, I swear." The Scottish, tucked under the practiced London accent that hadn't fully existed last time the rest spoke, poured out from Oliver as he took another drink.
He'd really needed this.
Eying Charlie and the mop of red hair, Oliver's mind drifted to Emilia, followed by Katie. Fuck. What a mess.
"Why? Missing me already?" He smirked, eyebrows waggling sensually. "I could find the time to cuddle if you promise to not hog the bed."
Charlie hadn't been expecting that exactly. Oliver's statement that regarding his career was because of Charlie, because the red haired man didn't entirely believe that to be true. That didn't stop him from feeling flattered though as he shook his head and took another drink. "Nah. Even if I hadn't have made you captain, you would have worked twice as hard to make it to the top. You always had it in you, mate. That passion. It was in your eyes, Oliver. I saw it as clear as day. And while part of me toyed with the idea of making someone else captain, just to see that fire burn even brighter, even I'm not that cruel," chuckling slightly he leaned forward a bit onto the counter, resting his chin in his hand. "Kidding by the way, about the latter part. Mostly." Giving him a wink, he finally drained the rest of his glass and took it upon himself to pour another.
The idea that Puddlemere had made a mistake still rang loudly in Charlie's ears, but it wasn't really his place to say anything. He had quit the Quidditch business long ago, though sometimes, in the back of his mind, he considered playing again. He always thought Dragons would be his forever, but now that he was back here.. He truly wondered what he was going to do with himself. But his mentor back in Romania had been right. The longer he stayed there, the more he made interacting with dangerous, deadly creatures a way of life, the shorter his life span could possibly be. Now that didn't mean that for sure, a dragon was going to kill him, but... the job was dangerous. As much as Charlie preached his love for the beasts, they were just that, beasts. Wild animals. Killing a human because they were simply in the way was just in their nature. It wasn't evil or wrong, it was just... instinct.
And Charlie knew, at the end of the day, he wanted to be around long enough to watch his siblings finish growing up. Finding people. Jobs. Their own path. Children. Whatever they wanted. But he needed to be there for it...
"You know I'd be downright crazy to turn down cuddles with Oliver Wood," he shot back playfully, waggling an eyebrow. "But I'd need to know upfront whose turf I'm stepping on, mate. I'm no homewrecker." With a shrug, he tossed another drink back, putting down the glass and stretching his large arms up towards the ceiling, his back cracking at the gesture.
"On a less playful note then," he finally said, "Have you... seen any of my family lately? Or our friends? You don't have to give me specifics just... everyone doing alright?"
Charlie's confession shocked Oliver, he'd waited so long and though he'd never admit it, enjoyed the sort of tug-of-war in trying to get the answer. He'd been thinking on that one particular memory of Charlie casually passing over the captaincy way too often these days. He remembered the way he probably looked had Charlie's eyes been mirrors - astonished, shocked, respectful - and a string of questions started to play in Oliver's head like an old vinyl disc with a stuck stylus in its groove, over and over again, and it dazed him. How had Charlie been so sure? Was there a point where it became apparent and if so when? Had he ever thought he'd made a mistake given Gryffindor's losses?
Oliver had no answers to these questions. There was no sense in getting a reply anyway. What's done cannot be undone – and the simple phrase left him with a rush of gratitude toward the other man who, despite his denial, had changed Oliver's. Every dream he'd ever had became possible by the trust the Weasley drinking whiskey at table placed in him. The feeling in his chest threatened to swell like a balloon, and Oliver downed the rest of his glass with a mumbled, but sincere thanks.
"No turf," Oliver assured him, pouring another glass, a bit fuller than the last. "This is my bachelor pad." Though he omitted the fact the interior decorating had been done to stop his mum from nagging that no woman in her right mind would want to be with a man that didn't look like he had his life together. Sometimes Oliver thought his mum wanted him married with babies more desperately than he did. "You're not going to happen upon some tucked away knickers or a burd running about topless to the kitchen in the wee morning."
While Charlie popped his back Oliver poured out another drink. Why not? They hadn't seen each other in ages and a decent bottle of whiskey should never be left unattended. At the mention of the Weasleys and other Gryffindors Oliver's smile faded. "No." He'd said it more firmly than intended, and took a long drink. "They're... Well, you know. I see the journals, though. They seem alright...as much as they can be, I guess. I want to help them but-" he cut off and downed the rest of the drink. "I saw Mia the festival, she helped me after the explosion." He paused for a moment and added tentatively, "I saw Katie too, the other night."
Charlie wasn’t the type of person who thought he was capable of changing someone’s life. He did what he thought was the right thing, and everything that came after was a direct result of that person’s hard work, not anything he did. But he still nodded his head in recognition of Oliver’s thanks, even if he didn’t believe it was entirely necessary. No use in trying to continue on with that line of thinking, merely because there were so many other things to catch up on. Or so it felt like anyway.
“It’s an awfully nice bachelor pad, I’ll admit,” he said with another nod, a small smile gracing his features. Charlie still wasn’t entirely sure how fancy he wanted to get with a place of his own. More space meant more work, right? But on the off chance he did decide to have company, he wouldn’t want everyone to feel claustrophobic. Maybe he’d just let Ginny make the final decision or something. She seemed to have decent taste in that regard.
“Well, now I might be disappointed to hear that,” he teased, shaking his head, throwing back another drink. He was starting to feel a bit tipsy, which was a nice feeling. If Charlie was being honest, he hadn’t been full out drunk in a bit, and he couldn’t think of a better reason to end that dry spell than catching up with a mate back in a place that felt like home. “I’m sure there’s bound to be some surprises tucked away. I’ll find them, don’t you worry, and use it to embarrass the piss out of you.” He winked, chuckling and letting his friend know it clearly was a joke. Instead he noticed the change in Oliver’s demeanor at his question, and wondered if he had hit on a sensitive topic. Of course, all their friends and family being on the run was hard, but it seemed that it affected Oliver a bit deeper than that. “Saw Mia? I mean… isn’t that a bit risky of a place to have been? I bet Terence was losing his top.” But the idea of seeing Katie just the other night? “Oh? You did? …Did you go to her or something? Isn’t that a bit dangerous?” Not that he hadn’t been considering it himself. “Was she alright? Seems sort of out of the blue, yeah? Or does that happen often?”
"Yeah," Oliver cast an appreciative eye around the flat. The off-white paint balanced by a sunny yellow accent wall and smoke grey furniture (modern, but not uncomfortably so) with black tables fit his lifestyle, though the designer was to be thanked for that. Oliver simply said yes or no (and occasionally argue with his mum) before the place had been completed and ready to become his home. "Amazing what one can afford with a Quidditch player's salary." Even he had to marvel at the level of luxury this building complex offered.
Charlie's threat materialized in Oliver's mind as the thoroughly hidden stash of various bath oils, colorful fizzy bombs and perfumed candles he used to unwind after a long day. He even included a sappy romantic novel with a glass of wine when the mood struck. "Yeah, I'm not sure about that one, mate." A nervous laugh escaped. He might have to relocate that secret indulgence before Charlie settled in.
"Well, she was at the festival and found me when the ferris wheel exploded." Oliver explained, absent-mindedly running at the ribs now healed ribs. "After she was spotted and ran off I... Well, I just know she's safe." For some reason Oliver couldn't tell Charlie about Cassius, at least not yet. Pouring another drink with another nervous laugh, he shrugged. "Katie needed somewhere safe to stay, mate. It was just a night. She was gone before I woke up." He took a drink to give himself a distraction and not look guilty for lying.