sekkritaus | Hogwarts / Wizarding World AU

[ Fuck, she loves him. And she really, really needs to get over it, because she’s the one that drew that line in the sand and those consequences are hers to own now. Even this - this unnamed intimacy she keeps calling friendship - it has to be temporary. Someday he’ll fall in love and settle down and this will have to go away. Sometimes she becomes painfully aware of that fact - like now, as he buries his face against her chest, as she brings her other hand to the back of his head to hold him against her. Can he hear the way her heart throbs in her chest for him? It feels as though her entire body wants to betray her to him when they’re together like this.

She bows her head to press a kiss into his hair, her embrace tightening for a moment. His name is a soft, muffled murmur that just barely escapes her. It’s hard to want to move - some part of her isn’t ready to pull away just yet - but there’s not much excuse to linger either. Even though all she wants just then is to keep holding him, to stay close and feel how solid he is, how real and tangible, when all she’s had these past few months is her memories of him. But if she doesn’t pull away now, it’ll only feel harder later, and she’s his friend, not his lover, so there’s no reason to sit around in a half-filled tub just to have a few more minutes pressed together.

Andy moves to stand, letting his cock slip free of her as she gets up. Water clings to the hollows of her body, dripping from all that long dark hair as she climbs out of the bath and fetches her wand. A few murmured spells - one for her, and one for the wet tile. Only then does she finally speak, her heart still feeling heavy even as she defaults to her usual dryness: ]

Guess you really did miss me.

[ Her embrace tightens around him, and he swears he can hear his name on her lips against his hair, and for a moment he feels like maybe she loves him after all. Maybe all this is just bravado and posturing and--

But then she gets up, and Poe's throat clenches hard, and he just feels hollow - longing so much for something that he can't have, but can't stop himself stealing pieces of, anyway. Fuck. Fuck, he's an idiot. Why the fuck does he do this to himself?

Her dry tone cuts the silence and a flare of despair grips him again but he pushes through it. What else was there to do? He didn't want anyone else. He just wanted to be with her, for as long as she would let him.

He just wished she loved him, too. ]

Looks like it. [ But he doesn't have the heart to put the humour back in it. And he doesn't have the strength to give her the honest answer - that he'd missed her more than anything.

Slowly, he pushed himself out of the bath, dark hair pressed in wet ringlets against his forehead. He went for his wand but only just barely whisked the water from himself. He left his hair damp. ]

Think our luck is good enough that someone thought to leave us robes?

[ She watches him from the corner of her eye, her answer half-delayed by something she hears in his voice — or doesn't hear, maybe. It's not anything she can put her finger on, but as close as they've been all these years, she can still tell when something isn't quite right. Was it something she said? Something she didn't say? Or maybe they're both just tired. Who wouldn't be, after the couple months they've had?

Her gaze drifts away. She lifts her hands to smooth wet hair back from her face as she turns to wander back out into the hall. ]

Do we need the robes? [ Wryly, as she starts to investigate which room might be the bedroom — with a closet maybe, and hopefully with those robes. ] I could have sworn you said you wanted me "as many ways as you can have me, in the next few days."

[ Yeah. He'd said that. And he'd meant it. Even though now all he wanted to do was kiss her until she relented and loved him back.

Cool. ]

I might need twenty minutes. [ Dryly, and a little rougher than usual. He'd never been good at pretending to feel things he didn't. Or to not feel what he did. ] Though you should know better than to trust a word out of my mouth when I'm that turned on.

[ Maybe then he'd get away with accidentally saying he loved her. ]

[ She glances at him over her shoulder, giving him a wry little look before disappearing into what must be the bedroom. Her voice carries over the sound of her digging through the dressers and trying the closet for some spare robes that might fit either of them. ]

Oh, is that how it is? [ Even the distance can't really stifle the mocking sarcasm in her words, habitual as it is. ] And here I thought maybe those sweet nothings were special just for me.

[ Not that she means anything by it. Not in the way a person might think anyway — jealousy isn't one of the problems in their relationship, though there might be many. They're too close for that by now. There's too much history. ]

You kidding? I'm way more romantic with my dates.

[ He wasn't totally lying - even his hook ups were always fairly romantic in the traditional idea of the world. He was charming and suave and could talk the pants off anyone.

He just didn't mean any of it. Not a word. And then he had Andy, to whom he meant all of it, and couldn't say it. He was starting to get angry with himself, for falling into this trap again. He knew better. He knew better, and yet couldn't stop himself. Months he'd spent thinking about her and here she was, about whether she was okay and if he would see her again.

And now she was here and he was ruining it anyway. ]

You get all my misfires.

Right. Misfires. Sure.

[ Deadpan, like she doesn't completely buy that. She's stupid about a lot of things when it comes to Poe Dameron, but she's not so naive that she would call the things he says to her misfires. She would know — she's been the drunk hook-up type for years. She's had her share of misfires and then some. It's nothing like when he holds her close, looks her in the eye and tells her how good she feels, or how he wants to be reckless with her. ]

How are you still single, Dameron?

[ She re-emerges from the bedroom with mockery and... Two sweaters. Large ones. At least a decade out of style. No robes, apparently. So. She holds out the two sweaters for him to pick one. ]

[ It was good the sweaters appeared, because the question made him bristle way more than it should. He knew it was just banter and he knew she didn't mean it in any deeper way, but he couldn't help hearing it anyway. She knew exactly why he was single. She's ensured that years ago. ]

What, you that eager to see me shack up with someone? [ It came out more bitter than he intended as he grabbed the more orange of the two sweaters and started pulling it on. ]

It's not like you keep any long term love interests either.

Might be. Could be kinda cute, having little Poe Damerons running around.

[ She answers dismissively, letting him have the orange sweater as she tugs the other one over her head. It's a weird olive green with awkward patches on the elbows, but it's soft and warm, so she can't complain too much. ]

Besides, why the fuck would I need something long-term? [ Her shoulders shrug underneath that baggy jumper. ] If I want to get laid, I have you.

Hah. Not going to happen, so don't get your hopes up.

[ It wasn't even that he was against having kids, necessarily. He just didn't even think about them. What was the point, if it would be without Andy?

The last comment stung far deeper that it meant to, and Poe frowned as he tugged at the edges of the sweater, falling just barely half way down his thighs. He tugged at it roughly, not looking at her. ]

Yeah. Least I'm good for something. [ He muttered, and even he could hear the bitterness in it. He let out a breath and started down the hall. ]

I specifically requested Giggle Water, so there better be some.

[ The tone of his voice makes her pause again, eyebrows slightly pinched at his back as he turns away to move down the hall. Can't they just — sweep whatever emotional hiccup they just had under the rug and push through, back to their version of normal? Blame it on feelings running high after so much time apart and leave well enough alone.

Maybe the alcohol will help. If anybody followed through on that request for Giggle Water. Debatable though — Andy's been known to be a mercurial drunk. ]

You're good for plenty. [ She answers mildly at length, finally coming to catch up with him. ] But there's not much point in going through the trouble with someone new. We've been fucking since our Hogwarts days — you already know what I like.

[ That's the excuse anyway. ]

Uh huh.

[ He sighed, trying to shove it all away again. It didn't matter. He didn't know why he was so prickly- it wasn't as if anything has changed. So he forced himself to turn around and forced himself to smirk at her in his stupid sweater. ]

Which is how I know you love it when I say shit like I'm going to take you in every way I can have you while I'm feeling you up.

[ There. See? Completely unromantic. Cool. Great. The subject could be closed now forever. ]

[ Andy gives him a flat little look. Not because she wouldn’t be into that exactly - funny how being in love with a person for half your life will make you amenable to most anything that involves their hands on you - but he is being prickly. Which is, in turn, making her prickly. ]

Yeah, that’s real sexy, Dameron. [ Dryly: ] Almost makes me want to tear that ugly sweater off you.

[ Instead, she brushes by him on her way to the kitchen to look for something alcoholic. Over her shoulder: ]

Maybe after you tell me what the hell crawled up your ass and died just now.

Nothing.

[ It's a blatant lie. He follows her into the kitchen and starts digging around for booze. ]

I'm fine.

[ Still obviously a lie. ]

I'm just - tired. [ More honest. ] It was a long couple of months. [ Technically true. ]

[ She knows he’s not fine. And honestly? It pisses her off a little that he would try to pass such a blatant lie by her - her, his bedt friend since puberty. It’s hypocrisy, of course, but it doesn’t stop the feeling. ]

Don’t do that. [ Andy crouches to try a few of the cabinets. ] if you don’t want to tell me, fine. But don’t say it’s alright when it’s not.

Fine. I'm upset but I don't want to talk about it.

[ He found the alcohol in one of the upper cupboards, but it wasn't giggle water, it was fire whisky. Great. Well at least that way he'd feel like he'd want to die on double time.

He pulled out two of the bottles, and held one out to her. ]

I'm sure I'll feel better once we fuck it out of me. [ He managed to only sound a little bitter. ]

Edited 2018-12-31 06:31 (UTC)

[ Yeah. Okay. She's going to need a drink before she deals with this. Andy helps herself to a big swig of fire whiskey — ah, fuck, that stuff always burns — wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and setting the bottle down on the table harder than really necessary. ]

Alright. Fine.

[ She's closing distance now, with some determination — putting her hands on him, shoving him up against the kitchen counter, and roughly wedging her thigh between his. ]

Is this how you fucking want it? [ Her voice has gone low and little biting. ] You'd rather do this then just talk to me?

You don't want to talk, Andy. [ His body wasn't help him, though. He had been in negative percentage points for his arousal literally three seconds ago, but her thigh presses against him and he stirs anyway, despite himself. He didn't reach out for her, though. Just took her shoves. ]

Because soon as I start talking you're going to give me shit. It doesn't matter. Okay? Yeah. I fucking missed you. More than you missed me, probably.

I spent like four weeks of it half convinced you were dead. And when I finally get to see you, you gotta go and make fun of me for making it romantic or whatever and it totally ruins my mood.

[ Technically the truth. It did ruin his mood, but not the way he's implying. ]

I'm just relieved to see you and happy to be here. You don't need to get on my case about it.

[ This is how you convinced someone you didn't love them, right? By getting offended at the implication? ]

[ He's not... Wrong. She doesn't really want to talk about this. And yeah, her way of coping with a lot of it is to give him shit. So it's not fair for her to call him out on this now, not when she's been so good at shutting him out all these years — keeping that last wall up, even as she keeps seeking intimacy, sexual or otherwise. None of it is fair. It's a wonder he's not angry with her for it more often. ]

What the hell does that even mean, you missed me more than I missed you? [ Annoyance, in her voice and written all over her face. ] You're the only fucking thing I thought about on that mission. Your dumb ass is the reason I tried so hard to get back! And I practically dumped myself in your lap the minute we got here.

[ She gestures with one hand in frustration, as if indicating all the bullshit, all around them. ]

So what, now you're pissed I was messing with you a little? Like I haven't been giving you shit since the day we met?

[ Fucking--

She wasn't wrong. It was him that was acting out, not her. She was just the same way she always was. He was just angry that it wasn't more. But he'd known that, going in. He'd known that wasn't going to be how it was, and he was still here, wasn't he? He didn't want to be anywhere else.

And her angrily yelling that she did all of that for him did, at least, remind him that he wasn't the only one who cared. She might not love him, but she cared about him, and here he was, being an asshole.

He just needed to fucking get over himself. ]

Yeah, yeah, I fucking know. [ He leaned forward abruptly to give her a smack of a kiss on the cheek - his usual sign of surrender. ]

I know. Sorry.

[ He didn't want to push it. Even as upset as he was, if she figured out the real reason he was upset, that'd be it. He finally reached out for her, threading an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. ]

They should just know better than to put us on seperate missions. I get antsy.

[ The truth is this: The things she says to him are things you say to the person you love - and it’s nothing short of idiocy that she’s convinced herself not saying those last three words changes the fact that she loves him and will probably always love him. What real harm would the words do now, when she’s been following him like a shadow all these years? When he’s the reason for everything she does? When he’s there one person she always wants to come home to.

But that rule she made when she was a stupid little girl - they’ve lived by it for so long now, it seems impossible that she could ever take it back. That, after all this time, he would take her back. It’s more than she should have, that they’re here together now. Even with the fighting and the ugly sweaters and the distinct lack of Giggle Water. ]

...Sometimes I think they do it on purpose. [ A twinge of annoyance lingers in her voice, but even that fades quickly. That brief kiss he gives her is enough to placate her temper - that, and the way he pulls her close. It’s practically automatic by now, the way she drapes her arms loosely over his shoulders. ] But fuck them. I’ll do what it takes to get back to you, even just for a quickie in the tub and some cheap fire whiskey.

Who said anything about 'just'?

[ You did, Poe, when you slammed hard into the denial train. But he only mumbles it and then presses a kiss to her throat. What the hell is wrong with him, that she gets in his vicinity and it's like someone takes a match to tinder. ]

I thought you were going to make me keep my word on the every way I could have you thing? [ It's just muttered into her skin? Just above the edge of her terrible sweater.

It's also a blatant apology, but neither of them were very good at those. ]

[ As if Andy's any better. It probably speaks to some dysfunction, that she'd break his heart because she wanted him too much and then keep coming back for this anyway — years later, still hungry to be kissed by him, still wanting few things more than to put her hands on his bare skin. Sometimes she's sorry for it — sorry that the wound never fully closes, because she can't ever pull away fully — but not sorry enough to stop. ]

Wasn't sure we were still in the mood. [ Mild wryness, not so biting like it was before — but punctuated by the pointed press of her thigh a little harder between his. ] But you know me. [ Her hands start to wander, skimming along the hem of his equally terrible sweater. ] I could be pissed at you and still want to fuck you stupid.

[ His arousal grew against her thigh, slowly but streadily, and he rolled his hips a little, completely unconciously. ]

Well, you know me. I could be completely pissed with you and therefore want you to fuck me stupid.

[ He let his hands slip down the curve of her backside, his fingers slipping under the hem, indenting her ass as he gripped into it. He pulled her a little closer, trying go edge her towards his lap. ]

You've always been able to do that to me.

Yeah? [ A hint of amused affection softens the dryness of her voice. ] Even when we were awkward teenagers?

[ She resists his pull — just for a moment, just to feel the way the motion draws tension into his grip on her, and maybe just to be a little bit of a jerk before she yields, shifting her stance so that she can press her body flush against his. Her hands, still eager for skin, find their way up under that awful orange sweater, brushing exploratory fingertips over his ribs. ]

You'd think you would've outgrown that by now.

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