Roger Llewyn Davies (roger_davies_) wrote in vrrpg, @ 2017-02-09 22:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, char: alec urquhart, char: roger davies, location: victory road, time: 2009 02 |
RP: Therapy session four
Who: Alec and Roger
What: More therapy
When: Thursday, February 9 2009
Where: Alec's office
Warnings: Mild violence, language, talk of drug use, pryomania (not really :D )
Alec hadn't wanted to make the call to Samantha. Things had been going... semi-well... or as well as things could be going with Roger in a therapy setting, anyway, and he sincerely hadn't wanted to marr that with anything so petty as a phonecall to his agent. But seeing as it was in his contract, in this instance, to do so, after leaving him waiting the entire five hours until he was required to leave-- his lunch included-- Roger had forced his hand.
So he'd made the call.
Roger hadn't shown up, he'd explained, arguing that he wouldn't mind simply waiting until their next appointment. They were, after all, set-up to be on a bi-weekly basis, and he wouldn't have to wait long until he'd be seeing Roger again. But Samantha had insisted.
Which was why Roger was now sitting on the couch-- pouting, from the looks of it-- while Alec was making himself tea. After Alec's greeting, Roger had decided to say nothing for... well, it had been twenty minutes now, Alec absently glancing at his watch as the teapot began to whistle.
If Roger wanted to be silent for the next... four hours and forty minutes, he could accommodate that. He'd told Greta to move his appointments around as necessary, after all, and Alec had always been a patient man.
He'd outlast him if it killed him.
***
Just when Roger thought he could trust Alec the man had stabbed him in the back. Granted, he'd told Roger what would happen if he did not show up for an appointment and stuck to his word. To say Samantha was less than thrilled would have been an understatement given she'd arrived in Roger's flat, physically tipped the mattress into the floor, hexed him with a stinging spell half a dozen times all while shouting and crying that he was a selfish fucking asshole who clearly didn't care about the insane amount of effort others were putting into not only save his career but his life.
Thank Merlin she hadn't found the valium. Or the benzos. Or the cocaine. But that was neither here nor there given he wasn't exactly using them... Much.
It was out of sheer guilt Roger went to the next session though refused to speak. He didn't know how long he would be forced to stay (why he kept forgetting his watch was beyond him) but was determined to not speak to Alec based on principle of betraying his trust. When the kettle whistled Roger stood before the other man had a chance and began to prepare some tea.
***
Cocking his head somewhat curiously at Roger's action, Alec decided to watch just what, exactly, his intent was here, crossing one leg over the other as if to punctuate the fact that he wasn't intending on getting in Roger's way. He was, after all, curious.
"I didn't know you drank lavender tea," he started slowly. "You'll have to ask Greta for anything else; I'm allergic to caffeine."
He knew neither Nora or Dora understood exactly how he functioned on a day-to-day basis, but. Well. When he was motivated by patients like Roger, there just wasn't a boring moment, after all.
"Unless, of course, you're making my tea for me?"
He sincerely doubted it.
***
So this was what Alec drank all the time. Roger had been sure he smelled the lavender but was unsure of it's source. He'd been halfway through pouring in a touch of sugar before pausing.
"And do you think I should?" His tone was that of a disappointed parent replying to a naughty child's request for a cookie.
***
"I wasn't expecting you to, if that answers your question."
It worked on two levels, of course. He hadn't expected him to be considerate enough, and neither was he requiring it of him.
Had he been expecting him to talk? Well. To be fair, he supposed he wasn't exactly surprised it hadn't happened.
"But I am glad to find that your vocal chords are still intact."
***
The glare sent to Alec could have warped the paint on the wall. Hadn't it been bad enough he'd called Samantha but now he intended to gloat his victory in today's battle of wills? With a huff, Roger sat down another cup and poured the tea without asking Alec his preference for sugar.
"At least I'm not an asshole." He muttered, depositing the tea on the side table to Alec's chair and skulking back to the couch.
***
Okay, so he could have seen either outcome-- vehemently refuse to make him tea or make it simply to prove a point, but Alec was hardly so petty that he couldn't show gratitude regardless of the motivation behind the action. "Thank you, Roger."
He was quiet for a moment, Alec picking up his tea to take a slow sip before deciding to remark on his comment. "Although you certainly can be when you want to be. Perhaps a… selective one, then?" Picking and choosing when it would be ideal to be an asshole. Yeah, that sounded about right.
"Why didn't you come yesterday? You could have simply called the office to let Greta know that you wanted to reschedule. After all, we both know that I'm required to call Samantha if you don't show up."
***
Another glare. Retorting on Alec's own assholishness was exactly what the man wanted and Roger refused to be played like that. He was the one in control, not the therapist. He busied himself sipping the surprisingly tasty tea, though shrugged in response.
"I was tired." Truthfully he'd gone out the night before, hopped up on entirely too much cocaine, alcohol and pretty muggle women (which ended with two of them at some stranger's flat with several others in various states of undress) before braving the Underground and crawling back into bed around the time decent working people began to start their day. "I guess you missed me?"
***
"Ah," Alec simply responded, picking up his tea again to take a long sip. Well then. "The next time that you find you are too tired to come in… please do call Greta and just let her know."
There had been nothing particularly fun about waiting for Roger to show up for several hours. If he'd known he'd have quite that much time to spare, he would have told Nora to come in for a quickie.
"Oh," he chuckled, "there's very little I could possibly have missed more."
***
"Yeah I bet. Samantha wasn't pleased." A dramatic, long-suffering huff fled from him. "She actually hexed me. Stinging hex. Mental that one." He kept his tone polite and casual, trying to tiptoe around the fact he'd broken a part of his contract and deserved his punishment.
Suddenly, he looked down at the tea, then up to Alec. "Why have you never offered this to me before? It's really good." Roger hadn't meant to sound so approving but honestly, it was damn good tea.
***
"Wow. She's far meaner than me. I suppose compared to that, a simple call would seem almost painless. Or you could always just…" and a part of him was truly reluctant to even suggest this in the first place... "send me an MM if it's too much trouble to call."
That might have been a mistake depending on the day and how much Roger wanted to annoy him.
At his question, though, Alec couldn't help his puzzlement for a moment. "It was always available to you. Anything that may make you more comfortable. Although I will say that, me aside, you're the first person I've met that also enjoys lavender tea. It's a bit of an acquired taste, or so I hear, but then, I am surrounded by people who practically inhale caffeine." He chuckled.
***
"Trusting me with your number already?" A quizzical eyebrow raised with a playful grin. "Are you sure we're ready to take this to the next level?" Roger felt a strangely warm, connected feeling to Alec with this gesture of connection. "Let's take it slow. I'll call Greta, okay?" The glow from being included didn't fade despite his deflection to keep things a bit more distant.
Another sip. Then another.
"I know the feeling." Roger agreed, frowning as the bottom of the cup swam into view. "I mean, I'm guilty of caffeine abuse but honestly it makes me jumpy. I feel more easily agitated and my anxiety increases but six-in-the-morning practice isn't easy to do. Especially in the dead of winter." One last sip and the cup was drained. Pity.
***
"Well, it is our fourth date, and you've only stood me up once so far," he joked, smiling despite himself as he took another sip from his drink, just listening for a moment.
"It does have a tendency to worsen anxiety in terms of pharmacokinetics," he slowly nodded, before gesturing to Roger's cup with his own. "You're more than welcome to help yourself to more. I have an aunt that lives in Heidelberg who is always happy to owl me another pound or two of the tea. Lavender is… well, I suppose one could call it a staple there. The lavender fields there are exceptionally beautiful. I do think you'd like it. Anyway." He shook his head. "You were saying."
***
"Heidelberg, hm? Didn't know you're German." Busy fingers traced the tea cup before manipulating it with trained hands. With his thumb and forefinger he balanced the cup on its side, holding it steady, then letting it slide smoothly into the palm of his hand on one swift motion. "But I wasn't saying anything, really. Just the necessary evil of caffeine." The cup bounced, landed on the back of Roger's hand, another bounce and back into his palm. Back and forth. Back and forth.
***
"Hardly." He shook his head. "My aunt is merely married to one. In this case, it's just rather convenient for me. I cannot stand most herbal teas, and fruit teas are just… too much."
He scowled. Peppermint, though. That was the worst. If he ever wanted to be reminded of being sick as a child…
Finishing his own cup, he looked to Roger. "Would you like me to make more? I'd be more than happy to." With that thought hanging in the air, he decided to continue. "We left off last time talking about the time you spent away."
***
Roger loved all teas (black being his least favorite) and couldn't exactly relate to not enjoying herbal tea as Rooibos topped the list. The only time he disliked an herbal tea was when the flavor tasted too weak or too watery, as black teas with milk often did. Shaking his head no to the offer, he focused on the effort to keep the cup balanced on the back of his hand. As usual, though, Alec waited for the perfect moment to strike.
"You're really a bit of a buzz kill, you know." Roger scowled, setting the tea cup down and looking at Alec.
***
"I'm sorry about that," he sighed, seeming to deflate somewhat before getting up grab himself some more tea. "I know these things are exhausting to talk about and less than fun, but…"
How to best put this.
"It would be… ideal… if you could try to work up to a point where you are sharing more of your thoughts. Talking to you… is a bit like gazing at the tip of an iceberg from the deck of the Titanic."
With all the possible connotations that might carry alongside it.
***
"People have said that to me," Roger replied, leaning forward so that his forearms came to rest on his knees; it felt good to stretch out the back. "People have often claimed I'm difficult to get to know but easy to talk to. More women than I can count have complained that they stopped being interested because they thought I wasn't very into them while - partly true due to me holding out hope for Cho - but in reality I was interested." Shrug. "Once, in my Seventh year, a guy and I were chatting as we often did when he gets suddenly serious and says: ' you know, mate, I've shared a bed next to you for seven years and I don't know a damn thing about you'.
I was incredibly proud of it. Oddly. I didn't feel too lonely because I was never really alone. Someone was always around; there was always schoolwork and always practice. I was very popular but I don't know why."
***
"You don't know why you're so proud of being… is guarded the right word?" He supposed Roger would be the right one to decide that, Alec busying himself once more as the kettle began to whistle once more, taking it off the heat. "You also mentioned in our last session that you respected Cho too much to ever try to act on your feelings. But if you were holding out… were you hoping that she'd initiate?"
While it was the only thing that made sense from what Roger had said, given who Cho was, it really could not have seemed less logical. She'd told him herself over message. She'd never expected to find happiness after Cedric. He couldn't help but wonder what on earth Finbar had even done to get with her.
***
"I like to think of it as 'selective' but I suppose guarded is another way to put it." Roger agreed politely; six of one half a dozen of the other, right? He watched Alec busy himself with the teapot and mentally kicked himself for not accepting the offer of a second cup. Next session, maybe. The mention of Cho caused Roger to sit up a little straighter and sighed.
"I figured being her friend was better than nothing. I was afraid if she knew she would leave-" The word 'me' was quickly cut off, sealed away with the terrible feeling of loss. "I was right, though." He added bitterly. "At least I got a few years of friendship out of it. Better than nothing."
***
"Does that selectivity ever lead to loneliness?" He couldn't imagine how it wouldn't. Slytherins as a general rule were selective, of course, but... to cut out everyone else and only look out for oneself? It took a deeply burned Slytherin to go quite so far.
"If she knew about the... substance abuse?" Pouring the hot water over the lavender, Alec was quiet for a moment. "Why do you do it? If I may ask."
***
Roger shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the room before spotting the familiar squishy ball. "Not... Really? I like being alone. I was left alone a lot and find I get stressed when I don't have ample amounts of private time." Indeed, at parties he would often wander off to go sit somewhere - usually an unused room though a cupboard had worked a time or two - and there were even times when he'd come home to find Nora on the couch that would stress him knowing he wouldn't be able to just be truly alone. Now he wished for nothing more than to see her at his place again.
Beyond that the only time it felt lonely were the times he wasn't included. It was understandable others would stop inviting him out when Roger always turned down invitations or would show up alone hours later only to leave soon after. It shouldn't sting, but it did. He liked to be included even if he would turn them down anyway.
The question about substance abuse caused a grin to slide across his lips, having just thought about a smoke. "Ah, I dunno, it helps me feel normal. It's stressful being the center of attention all the time."
***
"I understand. You're an introvert." Not that it made sense for him to want to be in such a public career if he tired quickly and easily when out in public, but, well. "In that case, why did you let some people get as close as they did?" Like Nora. Cho to a lesser extent, of course, seeing as he'd kept an incredible amount of information from her.
Alec had to admit, carrying his mug back to his seat, that he had not expected Roger to grin at his question about substance abuse when he'd been so adamant about the fact that he wasn't an addict just a few sessions before. Of course, there was that comment about the public nature of his career. It didn't add up. Not quite. "Normal in what way? You mean... relaxed?"
***
Another shrug. "What's the saying? No man is an island or some shit? I disagree; I'm an island with a regular ferry service and maybe a nice sand bar when the tide is low."
The grin disappeared as fast as it had formed. He sighed and plucked at a long tendril on the ball. The story of Roger's descent into substance abuse was a classic limelight tale. "I was prescribed Valium by my old manager, Glenn, when it became apparent I was getting attention and would have to interact with the crowd and do more on the press circuit. Calming draughts affected my performance but I didn't really suffer side effects from muggle prescriptions.
Glenn... Wanted more.. He's very good at his job," though the distaste for the man lingered in Roger's mouth. "But he's better suited for someone like Oliver Wood or Barry Ryan. He wanted more press, more endorsements, more interviews. After all the more I am worth the more he made. Sometimes managers tend to be as dependant on their talent as the talent is to them; they live through them. I thought, dunno, it seemed fun at first but then I couldn't go about my daily life without being pestered. The interviews turned from my skills and the games to my life. My life was so heavily scheduled and in control by another person.
After the incident with the camera guy I was given a stronger dosage, as well as Prozac. But then I was told I had to be more engaging and not so withdrawn. So it was either take something to really get me going that might not mix well with the other stuff I was prescribed. So out came the coke, just before interviews and meet and greets to liven me up."
A blue tendril snapped hard on his knuckle and Roger grimaced.
"Glenn was fired, though. Embezzlement. Go figure."
***
"Those people. Are they necessary… or would you be happy to only have superficial relationships?" Would he be able to live without anyone close to him? Comfortable as a hermit?
He couldn't imagine that his head was a friendly enough space for that kind of solitude. That kind of introspection. That his conscience was quite that cushy.
Taking a long sip of his tea, he just listened for a while as Roger explained his motivation. No wonder. Between it and the fact that Roger had an immensely addictive personality… Merlin.
"That's… quite the cocktail." He slowly nodded. "I imagine it must have been all too easy to keep going from there." It wasn't as though it was a great stretch to move from cocaine and vicodin to harder stuff.
***
"Mate I don't know. Sure, I suppose." He hadn't meant to snap at Alec but honestly what kind of a question was that? The evasive question set Roger on edge and he sent an apologetic shrug followed by another dismissive shrug. A headache loomed on the horizon and miserably Roger wondered just how long he could stave it off.
He'd concluded Alec's observation into harder drugs with another dismissive ‘obviously’.
***
The tonal shift was blatantly obvious; one hardly needed to be in Alec's field to figure that one out, and Alec leaned back with a frown, preoccupying himself with his tea for the moment.
"You seem to be in a bad mood." That would have to come first and foremost before any more questions were asked; after all, it wasn't as though he was used to making a good deal of progress when Roger began to behave himself like this. "Can I help?"
***
"I just don't see the point to all this shite." The restless feeling drove Roger up the wall. Why couldn't they fast forward to the part where he was magically healed or at the very least not having to be here dragging out every painful memory and dissecting it until it no longer resembled its original self?
He shifted fretfully, straining at the dark grey woollen coat to draw up his legs close to his chest and rest his chin on the tops of his knees.
***
"No?" Alec looked at him curiously. "Okay." He downed the rest of his cup, setting it back down on its saucer. "Then I'll present you with one of two options."
He'd have to be careful with how he'd phrase this, Alec considering it for a moment. "You can either go home for the rest of the day-- something for which I would not be penalizing you, mind you-- or you can tell me what you would like these sessions to achieve. The end goal. In your own eyes, when would you be happiest with yourself? Objectively and in the long-term, I mean. It's all well and good if you're happy because you're on something and completely divorced from the world, but that isn't really happiness, that's just trying to escape the fact that you're not happy. Where would you most like to be... mentally, emotionally, psychologically. What would be ideal for you in your life?"
He could leave, of course. Always an option. But if he didn't... then he'd be staying of his own accord because he'd want to be here. And far more cooperative, for that matter.
***
"Fuck I don't know." Now he buried his face between his knees and sighed deeply. What did he want to achieve? What even was normal? He'd always been avoidant and uncomfortable in crowds, was the end goal to be like Oliver Wood who seemed to be energized by people? Was that normal?
And, whose to say it would even work? What if none of this helped and instead brought back long forgotten memories? Roger's body suddenly felt too tight inside his skin, uncurling from the balled up position and looked down at the suede coach like couch.
"I just want to get these over with."
***
"And ultimately achieve what? That Samantha gets off your case? If that's your only goal, Roger, then you're going to be in here with me, bi-weekly, until you die."
Because he wouldn't change a thing. Wouldn't be motivated to change a thing. It was why he refused to treat people based on referral. They had to want to change. And if Roger didn't get better, fuck. He would die.
"You're doing that thing again," Alec said with a soft sigh. "Where you think everything and say nothing."
***
"I could just switch agents." He'd not done so with Glenn for the simple reason at the time Roger didn't know you were allowed to do such a thing... And he was scared of getting kicked off the team if his and Glenn's arrangements were discovered.
Tracing little stars in the suede cloth, Roger nodded.
"Yeah. I guess I am. Don't know where to start. It's all in the but...I dunno "
***
"So why haven't you?"
Even if he was getting a truly absurd amount of money from the Prides for the work he was doing here… if Roger didn't want to be here and he could get out of it… that wasn't really his own business.
He took in a deep breath. "What would your ideal life be like? When you close your eyes and think about what you would want most in the world, what would that be?"
***
"Because," Roger sighed, scribbling over the stars. "I'll get taken off the team." There. Finally the truth came out. That and the fact Samantha was a very good agent who understood how to make someone like Roger successful without sacrificing his comfort. "I don't know how but our PR people spun this to make it look like...I don't fucking know. Just something that got out of hand. Took too much of my medication one night because I felt off. Bad reaction with a potion. Dunno. Didn't care to read it." He looked up at Alec. "And somehow the fans believed them. They know I'm already shy and having a bad reaction on your anti-anxiety medicine sounds a lot better than overdosing on too much opiates, cocaine, alcohol and..." He paused. "I have no idea what else I had in me.
Except now I'm stuck. They think I agreed to go to rehab and it was my idea. I mean I'm not- not really taking anything so it's not like I need this." The lie that he could stop any time was one Roger wrapped himself in, though doing those drugs for what his body felt like was the first time felt beyond extraordinary. "Prides are investing a lot of money in me. I'm still on the starting lineup and I have an image and a team image to protect."
And the weight of the world settled on his shoulders again.
"My ideal life? What do I wanna be when I grow up?" He scoffed. "I dunno, that creepy house with too many cats I told you about sounds appealing."
***
"You're not taking anything?" Alec blinked. "Roger… I'm sure you can understand why I might find that a bit difficult to believe." And fuck, he wanted it to be true. Genuinely. "And if you are lying to me or yourself about that, that really does neither of us any good. I want you to be able to talk to me honestly and openly. I mean… correct me if I'm wrong, but… I doubt that you respect me so much that the thought of my knowing that you struggle with substance abuse should be… that bad of a prospect. I'm a neutral party in this. I'm not here to judge you. Unless… you judge yourself for it and therefore feel ashamed of admitting it to anyone, most of all yourself."
Alec was quiet for a long moment. This issue was… delicate. He wasn't stupid. He knew that Roger was still doing anything and everything. Roger probably knew it, too. But if he pushed too hard…
"None of that childish idealism regarding future dreams of employment." He shook his head. "If you think about that, genuinely and honestly… would that be your ideal? Living by yourself at a distance from most everybody save for your cats. Would that make you feel comfortable? Happy? Fulfilled?"
***
Of course that backfired; like Alec of all people would have been so easily fooled. With yet another annoyed eye-roll, Roger fessed up.
"Fine. My valium. As prescribed. I drank too much the other night but I was at an event where no one knew me so whatever. Nora cleaned out everything else." It wasn't exactly a lie, and twisting his words to better suit the situation was the most effective way to get through this session.
"I... Always liked the idea of living in a massive city like London. Downtown, you know? Manhattan or Tokyo. Having an apartment that overlooked the city and when I go out I just disappear into the crowd. It's nice."
***
"That's all?" Alec licked his lips, wondering whether he should just be straightforward about this. "You're... evading." Still. God, a part of Alec could throttle him. "If you managed to get your hands on it in the first place, that should be easy to reacquire, even if she did clean out everything else. Not to mention that... depending on where you went, people are generally... happy to supply in those sorts of situations. I know that when it comes to staying out at night, both cocaine and ecstasy are fairly commonly dealt with. And for someone like you... ecstasy would help a lot of problems. It would even make you want to socialize."
He hadn't wanted to be an asshole about this. Really didn't. And he honestly wasn't. It was just that... well. Roger was Roger. And besides-- he could leave anytime he wanted to.
"Where do you live now?" He'd assumed it had to be in London, but perhaps Diagon Alley...? He knew that living on Victory Road meant constantly bumping into familiar faces left and right. Roger would hate it. "And in this... ideal mental image, do you still have your job? Completely unchanged, or... maybe with less press coverage?"
***
"Yes that's all." He snapped back, feeling a twinge of guilt. "You really think I could build up my stock that quickly? Besides someone," probably Nora. "Deleted those contacts from my phone." Of course the two girls had been more than willing to supply him with the necessary drugs to get the evening started and unfortunately ecstasy wasn't one of them. "Though you're right, I am very social on ecstasy. Things feel... Right." Roger smiled and then shook his head. "I also have done extensive research into the damage it can cause, as well as serotonin sickness... And given how unreliable drugs have been on the general market it's not enough to risk damaging my mind."
Roger paused, unsure of how to answer this question. "Not too far from Honeydukes. It's actually a great little spot. Nice breeze and the bedroom window faces West so I don't get too much sun in the morning." He paused again, considered and shrugged. "Honestly, I never really thought about the job aspect. Probably keep the same job? Yeah...I think so."
***
Things feel right. Mentally zeroing in on that sentence, he looked to Roger, delighted to having-- for once-- gotten something productive out of him. "You just said that things feel right when you're able to be that social. Do you not feel... I hesitate to use the word normal, but..." he shrugged. "Under normal circumstances, do you not feel right?"
"Any particular reason? Why not move to Muggle London if you'd prefer that?" He could afford it; he couldn't help but assume it would be far more pleasant for someone like him. A lot of professional Quidditch players, he knew, preferred to live in the massive Muggle city if only to blend into the crowd more easily that way. "So you wouldn't change a single thing about your job as it stands? Not even the amount of time you have to spend dealing with the press?"
***
Sigh. Dammit. Why did Alec have to zone in on the subtle expressions Roger so often used? And worse: he was able to extract them so effortlessly that it should have felt violating. "I mean it's not even real. MDMA makes it so I can't feel a negative thought anyway; if, say, I start to feel anxious or have a negative thought the chemicals manipulating my serotonin receptors make it sort of... Bounce off?" It felt lame to describe it that way, but it was the most accurate description. "Otherwise don't get too excited. Sometimes I feel comfortable chatting away with someone, usually one on one or in a smaller, quiet setting and other times I feel as though my consciousness is pressing painfully against the inside of my skull and I'm like a balloon tied under a net. Depends."
It was a million dollar question. Why hadn't he moved? It wasn't as though Roger couldn't easily afford a small or even decent sized flat to rent somewhere; not in the heart of London but still. "I don't know, honestly. I hate change? And I guess I would do without all the press stuff, yeah, but then I wouldn't have the paycheck or the career, so it's a moot point."
***
"It doesn't matter whether or not it's real. You're avoiding my questions. Are they making you that uncomfortable?" Probably as uncomfortable as the idea of acknowledging the fact that he was an addict.
Well. Maybe not quite that uncomfortable. That seemed to be all its own issue.
"It's not a moot point at all. We're trying to get at the things you want. The things in life that make you feel comfortable and good and happy, and not just in a transient way in the sense that drugs do. We all have our own... preoccupations, but it's vital that we find happiness outside of that." He shook his head, mostly to himself. "What about socially? Who would your friends be? How close would they be? Would you want to have a romantic or sexual relationship?"
***
"I'm not avoiding the question!" Merlin, did Alec always have to be so damn insistent? Not everything had a deeper meaning. "It's a fucking synthetic drug. It's not there to simulate anything beyond a massive flood of serotonin in my brain to make me feel an unnatural level of happiness and content. Even the most well adjusted person wouldn't feel that kind of bliss without artificial help." Well, perhaps Luna Lovegood, but she wasn't exactly normal either.
"And it is a moot point." Roger growled, the headache rapidly advancing. He didn't even bother to answer the other questions, but instead injected one of his own. "Oh yeah? What's your 'preoccupation'?"
***
They had reached an impasse. Roger had found himself backed into a corner and would refuse to cooperate from here on out. He could argue-- and would happily do so-- but there wasn't a point to it. Roger would just refuse to acknowledge facts. He was so very good at that.
So he decided to go in a different direction. Take the attention off Roger for a moment. He seemed far too grumpy to cooperate regardless.
"I'm... not sure that you want to know what my preoccupation is, Roger."
Baiting him as much as he was warning him, then. Well. He wasn't lying. Roger really didn't want to know. But it would make Roger focus on something other than his irritation.
***
Roger leaned back into the soft backing off the couch with a derisive snort.
"Try me."
***
Merlin help him, Alec laughed, slowly nodding at his thoroughly amused acknowledgment of what he'd said during their last session, the two of them baiting each other in turn… Alec shrugged.
"Sex."
***
At first Roger's stomach lurched at the mere thought of Alec and Nora. Granted the two had never been exclusive and they'd been other different people over the years but always ended up back in each other's company.
"So you're a sex addict." It wasn't a question. "No wonder you think I want to shag all my friends."
***
He'd thought that would be where his brain would go first, which was precisely why he'd said that he didn't want to know. And look at that. He hadn't.
"That's funny," Alec said, not a hint of humor in his voice. "Pretty sure that was what you said about me in one of our other sessions. To clarify," he nodded, sitting up somewhat as he recrossed his legs, leaning the majority of his weight on one of the arms of the chair, "the only friends of yours-- former, now-- that I thought you wanted to sleep with were Cho and Nora. One of them you did sleep with, and the other you were in love with." He shrugged. Probably still was. If that love hadn't been transferred over to Nora completely, that was.
***
"I mean you seem awfully convinced I want to shag them. At the very least you insinuate that." He matched Alec's body language, hungry for anything beyond the annoyingly calm exterior that Roger had to stare at through these sessions. "Because really, I'm not someone who thinks with my dick. Rather, it's quite the opposite."
***
"What, Nora and Cho?" He shrugged. "Well, perhaps I misjudged you, and you're more the type to want to take them out to Madam Puddifoot's on Valentine's."
Okay, now he was just being a tad mean.
"Oh, believe me, I know. I'm quite familiar with your sexuality by now. Or... lack thereof." The drawer unlocked and opened itself, Roger's folder floating out and into Alec's hands. "Would you like to hear what I have in that section?"
Oh look at him, throwing him all these wonderful morsels. How many times had Roger wanted to know some of the things written herein? Countless, certainly. He was being so generous.
***
Low-fucking-blow. He'd not even liked that stupid place but girls did and if it meant snogging and the occasional awkward groping before figuring out how their bodies worked Roger was willing to suffer through it.
"Oh do you?" An eyebrow raised betraying the otherwise well practiced mask. The damned folder floated from its safe storage and sat once more between them. "Pretty dirty trick using my own mental processes against me."
***
"Roger," he said slowly, casually opening his folder to flip to the page on sexuality, "that is literally my job." Not a dirty trick. "It's important that I know what makes you… tick. How you work. So that I can predict your behaviors and tell when you're lying to me."
Which is quite often.
***
He sat back, scrutinizing every detail of Alec as though to assess the truthfulness of his statement. Another snort of impatience and Roger waved his hand at the folder.
"Go on then, tell me what it is I already know."
***
Alec's eyes widened for a moment, and he promptly shut the folder, shaking his head with a small smile on his face.
And he'd been so close...
"If you already know everything in here, then I don't need to tell you. And in that case, I'm frankly not sure why you've been so curious about the contents of this folder all this time."
***
Roger's lips parted in a mixture of disbelief and astonishment. The man was toying him and enjoying every moment. He wouldn't be Alec's plaything. Absolutely not. He sat frozen, pale blue eyes transfixed on the man in front of him and then using all the focus, training and years of practiced skills lunged forward to grab the folder.
***
Oh, now that was just cute. They'd both been chasers-- and while Roger played professionally and Alec certainly didn't, he still had decent fucking reflexes. There had, after all, been a reason he'd been made captain of the team.
So he wrenched the folder up, Alec throwing Roger a look.
"Really, Roger?" He wished he was more surprised. "Why do you care? Especially since you claim that you already know everything that's in here."
***
He'd missed. Roger's knees collided painfully with the floor and he drew a sharp intake of breath.
"Fuck off. I'm not going to be your little toy for your amusement." The cold blue eyes - so similar to Alec's - held the other man's while his cheeks flushed red from embarrassment. How could a fucking shrink have bested him. The probability, that Roger calculated, had been only 28% in Alec's favor. He hadn't taken into consideration the lack of firmness of the squishy couch. Amateur mistake and not once that would be made again.
***
"Never once have I viewed you as a toy for my amusement. If you'd just answer the bloody question, Roger, I'd be more than happy to accommodate you. All you have to do," and he said this slowly, as if to dig it into Roger's thick fucking skull, "is communicate."
It shouldn't be this difficult. Then again, this was Roger they were talking about.
***
At this angle the folder dangled at 150° angled incline and Alec's arm looked to measure roughly 34". The grip, given by the indication of the white on the tips of Alec's fingers in a pinch grip, would theoretically max out around seventeen pounds-per-square-inch, though raised 40° above peak grip strength would cause a disadvantage. Alec also - as displayed moments prior - still maintained his above average reaction speed (perhaps .203 seconds though Roger hadn't been able to sit and observe).
This would be difficult, but, with lightening fast computation in his head, Roger watched the folder and lunged once more, making contact with the thick spine and yanking down.
***
He couldn't fucking believe him.
Well-- no-- he could. He just hadn't wanted to think that he'd stoop to quite so low a level.
The spine cracked, Alec's eyes widening considerably as he was now no longer the only one holding onto the folder, the other half of it attached to Roger.
"You are a child," Alec ground out almost to the point of it sounding venomous. "And I am allowed to resort to hexing you if that's what it takes to keep you in line. Or I could always just call Samantha. I am rather proficient at charms; which one would you prefer?"
Oh boy was he pissed off.
"All you had to do was talk to me and you would have found out for yourself what was in here. Are you truly so proud, so utterly immature that you couldn't even do that?"
He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this disappointed in a patient.
***
The two stood a mere breath's distance apart, close enough Roger could have counted the faded freckles dusted across Alec's nose. Only a twinge of slight disappointment that he'd not been able to fully recover the file; clearly he was a bit rusty from the lack of practice over the past few months. Instead it connected the two with slowly added distance from micro-tearing.
"You hex me and I'll hex you. My reaction time is much faster than yours." Perhaps only milliseconds, but it was enough. Unlike Alec, Roger slipped into an eerily calm manner so often seen during his game plays. "I told you I didn't want to talk to you."
***
"And I told you that you were welcome to leave."
Quite some time ago by now, in fact. Alec inhaled sharply-- god, he couldn't believe this motherfucker he was staring in the face. Unflinching, unmoving, he stared back at Roger, his features hard before opening his mouth to bellow.
"Greta!"
***
His heart pounded so hard Roger feared it might burst through his chest, but still the eerily calm expression as though he were simply an outsider passively watching the news remained.
"If you wanted me to leave you should have told me. I can imagine you want to be here as much as I do."
At first Roger wasn't sure just what Alec had bellowed, the sudden noise making him feel jumpy, but slowly the realization set in. He remained motionless, keeping a firm grip on the file. "Calling for help?" Roger didn't want to hurt Alec; the man was an annoyance but nothing that couldn't be dealt with.
***
"Roger," he ground out near-silently. "If you want to ignore basic facts, that is your business, but I am fairly certain I just said that you were welcome to leave, not that I was requiring it or even wished it. Do you sometimes make me wish I could end my own suffering rather than try and get you to actually give half of a shit about your mental health? Yes. But whether or not you believe me, I have to insist, once again, that I actually care about your well-being. And you cannot and will not get me to stop caring about your well-being."
Where the fuck was she?
"Roger, you just threatened to hex me, of course I'm going to call for help." He sucked in a strained, deep breath. "GRETA!" he hollered again, his jaw set as he fought the urge to keep from changing color from rage.
***
Fuck he'd missed this. The exhilaration of the intense moment. The pumping of adrenaline and uncertainty of what came next. Every sense was alight with anticipation and his mind felt as though it were operating at peak performance taking in every minute twitch of Alec's skin, every glance, every factor to calculate and process the most likely move as well as the possible outcomes. This was why he loved Quidditch.
The world shrank to the two spaces both he and Alec occupied with only the occasional tear of paper punctuating the deadly silence. He wanted to tell Alec to piss off; he didn't need the sympathy of a stranger, especially one who was currently banging his best friend. The cold blue eyes - so alive with the thrill of this moment - narrowed slightly.
"You threatened to hex me first. Roger replied softly. "Only fair I defend myself doctor." Again Alec yelled, causing a wave of panic to crash through him. The sudden noise, while expected, still didn't settle well.
***
Why the fuck did Roger look exhilarated?
He needed to calm down. He seemed to be blistering with rage; under normal circumstances, he was an almost painfully calm person. And yet… Roger seemed to bring out the very worst in him in instances like this.
"Hexing you, in this instance, is within my jurisdiction. It is not within yours." A deep breath. Control. "Let go. Of my property."
He was about to add that he wouldn't win this fight-- but challenging him in this instance was not a good idea. The last thing he needed was for Roger to become more stubborn.
"What. Do I need to do. To make you. Cooperate."
He was doing his best to remain professional, but he was starting to, ever so slowly, slip.
***
A sardonic smirk formed on his lip, silently refuting Alec's claim it was only his right to hex.
"It might be your property but it's my life and I'm tired of you fucking with it." His grip on the folder tightened on the folder, the only muscle movement beyond the ones in his face. "What can you do?" Roger's voice was barely above a whisper. "Sign off on me; say I'm fine and leave me alone." A simple enough demand, really, and one they both would benefit from.
***
"I'm fucking with your life because I'm trying to help you get better?! By doing my job?!" Alec seethed. "Not that it matters; from the way you talk, your life isn't yours at all-- it belongs to the Prides."
Oh, now that was just fucking hilarious.
Alec narrowed his eyes, leaning in a good bit closer as he whispered. "No."
Over his dead body.
***
"You're right. It isn't mine, but better it belong to them than to you and your fucking folders."
Riiiip. The folder's tear deepened. Alec denied his request and a thought formed in his head. If Alec wouldn't let him have the file no one would. Roger stood still, too still, for a split second, glancing between the file and Alec's hand, calculating the amount of force needed to tear the file in half. He pulled down as hard as the collection of papers ripped and shattered the sound of silence. In one fluid motion Roger turned, arced his body and lunged his half into the fire by the couch.
The force of the file ripping caused him to stumble backward, the connection broken from Alec.
***
"This is my job!" Alec practically spat, his gaze finally shifting off of Roger's down to his folder.
Wonderful.
"You are fucking psychotic!" he hollered, Alec jumping to his feet as he let his wand fly into his hand, extinguishing the fire before slowly repairing the file mid-air to the best of his ability given just how angry he was. Finally he just resorted to grabbing the lot of it, Alec heading out the door to slam it down on Greta's desk. "There are spells that can help with your hearing!"
Heading back into his office, he slammed the door shut, just… looking at Roger, half-anger, half-sheer disbelief.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?! Did you come here today on psychotropics?! I am trying to help you! Are you so fucking proud that you can't even let me do my job?! Or is all of this just about Nora? Because I am genuinely struggling to comprehend just how, exactly, someone can be as self-destructive as you!"
It didn't take a genius to figure out just how quickly he would be calling Samantha the second Roger left this office.
***
He'd wanted to taunt Alec when the man tore from room in a fury. Roger barely had any time to contemplate the situation when Alec returned, the door slamming with enough force to wobble. The sudden noise and the fading adrenaline caused those familiar shivers that Roger fought - and lost - the involuntary muscle movement.
The whole situation felt so bizarre. Roger stood, silent with a racing heart and shallow breathing, watching curiously as Alec raged on. He hardly dared to believe the events of a few moments ago.
***
Merlin's balls, he needed to calm the fuck down.
Running a harried hand through his hair, Alec let out a shaky breath, slowly making his way over to his tea station to prepare some more. If Roger wanted to leave, he could. If he wanted to talk, he could If he wanted to keep racking up Pride's bill in property damage, he could do that, too.
Alec wasn't going to say anything. He was going to make himself some fucking tea and remind himself that of the two of them, he was the one that would be fucking Nora tonight.
God, how he wished he could be an unprofessional ass right now.
***
What was left to say after that? The two men fell into silence: Roger watching Alec warily as he quietly made tea. Heaving a sigh and messing the tangle loose raven curls Roger exited the room without a word.