#he said “i talked to my sister and she called me an oblivious walnut :(”

[frogmanfae]

I just watched one of those minecraft reddit aita videos and the guy was freaking out because he realized he had a problem with his gay roommate because he got disgusted when he brought guys over so ofc that meant he was homophobic but what it actually meant was that he was bisexual and had a massive crush on his roommate and the disgust was jealousy and that's so javid

[lovemesomerafael]

Best That You Can Do                         Chapter 1:  The Big Mistake

Mike Dodds x Original Female Character Because dammit Mike’s not dead.  

Look, Mike loves his dad, OK?  He does. They get along great, even when Mike’s dad is being extra.  Mike knows he’s lucky to be Chief Dodds’s son, and he is perfectly aware that he’s benefitted from that.  He doubts he’d be a Sergeant this young if it wasn’t for that connection.  Hell, he’s not above using that connection himself when it suits him.  So he good-naturedly puts up with his dad’s embarrassing bragging about him, and he gives his dad’s opinions serious consideration.  Because Mike knows his dad absolutely and completely has his back, and only wants good things for him.  It’s just… what Dad thinks is good and what Mike thinks is good aren’t always the same thing.  

William knows that. It’s why he’s always tried to listen when Mike says no.  But this time, he knows he’s right.  Kaitlyn is perfect for Mike.  Women are one area in which Mike’s never listened to him – first he was too embarrassed and awkward around girls to do anything when William would point out a girl who had a crush on him, then when he was older, he had his own (incomprehensible) ideas about what he wanted.  But this time, William’s not taking no for an answer.  He can’t.  Because he knows he’s right.  

Kaitlyn Myers is a member of Chief Dodds’ staff, an up-and-comer if he ever saw one.  She’s the daughter of two cops, sister of three, and granddaughter of two – one on each side.  Kaitlyn has the NYPD in her blood, and she’s fiercely protective of anyone who wears a badge.  So much so, in fact, that she and Dodds have gone toe-to-toe more than once when she thought he was doing something that put cops at unwarranted risk.  But only behind closed doors.  Anywhere else, she is unwavering in her support and, whatever he decides, she stops at nothing to make it happen.  Her loyalty is unshakable.  

All of which makes her indispensable to William Dodds, and it’s been like that for three years now.   She’s also a looker – William thinks it’s still OK to call women that – with the lean, athletic build he knows Mike likes.  

Mike’s been hearing about Kaitlyn for a long time, but they’d never met until a couple of weeks ago. And when they did, William saw instantly what he really should’ve seen before: they were perfect for each other. So he’s going to do what he should’ve done a long time ago.  He’s going to set them up.

 ***************

Two Weeks Earlier:

Mike’s tired and he’s cranky.  He’s really looking forward to getting to Alonso’s, the steak house he and his dad have been going to every other Thursday for years.  It’s dimly lit and full of deep green upholstery and dark wood, they have every possible kind of whiskey, and the steaks are huge and perfect.  It’s basically a man’s paradise, Mike thinks, and he loves these dinners.  He really needs this.  It’s been a shit week.

He swings in the door and greets Eleanor, Chief Dodds’ secretary, who beams at him as if he’s her own son.  He points toward the office door in mute question.

“He’s in a meeting, but he said to go on in,” she says.  Eleanor is about a million years old, but Mike loves her because a.) she takes great care of his dad, and b.) when it comes to a choice – and it has – she’s on Mike’s side one hundred percent of the time.  He thinks she might have a crush on him, and he knows he has one on her.

Mike opens the door, knocking as he does, and is confronted by the best ass he’s seen in a year.  At least.  There’s a brunette in a pencil skirt standing on Mike’s side of his dad’s desk, leaning over to show the Chief something and giving Mike a spectacular view. She stands as he enters, and he sees that she’s pretty, with big, brown eyes and lush, pink lips that immediately spark his imagination.  

“Mike!  Come in, Son,” William says gaily, standing up with a smile like he’s pleasantly surprised.  Which is weird, considering they planned to meet here, now, and Eleanor said he was waiting for him.  

“You’ve met Kaitlyn, haven’t you?”  William asks.

Mike reflexively holds out a hand.  When she smiles at him, he can feel it.  Her hair is in some kind of updo, but it’s late in the day and some of it is escaping in a way that feeds the dirty turn his imagination’s already taken.  This is the Kaitlyn his dad’s been going on and on about?  Somehow he’d imagined her… differently.  

“No, we haven’t met,” Kaitlyn says, smiling and looking into his eyes, her voice lower and sexier than he’d expected.  “But I feel like we have.  He talks nonstop about you.”

Mike notices how small her hand feels in his as they shake.  “Then we’re even,” he says, smiling in a way he hopes isn’t as much of a leer as he fears it is.  “When he’s with me, he talks nonstop about you.”

He doesn’t want to let go of her hand, and damn if it doesn’t seem like maybe she holds on a shade longer than necessary, too.

“Listen, Son, I have to call the Mayor.  Can you give me ten minutes?  Kait, you can keep him company, can’t you?  Give him a drink of that Dalmore we’re not supposed to have in the office.”  

His dad actually winks when he says that.  Dork. But Mike only has a second to notice that, because his dad tosses Kaitlyn a small key from his desk drawer and then she’s motioning him out the door.  Mike follows her ass across the lobby to a small conference room, completely oblivious to Eleanor’s smirk at how obvious he is about it.  

In the conference room, Kaitlyn uses the little key to open a highly polished walnut cabinet and takes out a half-empty bottle of scotch, setting it on the oval table that takes up most of the room.  Picking up two glasses from a shelf in the cabinet, she sets them next to the bottle. “Why don’t you pour?”

“Sure,” Mike shrugs, hoping he looks nonchalant.  “None for Dad?”

“Dad doesn’t need one. Dad’s talking to the Mayor.  That’s his drug of choice.”  

Mike feels a very pleasant flutter down low in his stomach at the mischievous look on her face, and the way she smiles at him.  He means to pour only a finger for each of them, but he’s suddenly a little clumsy. He hands her one of the glasses and he’s almost certain she purposely touches his fingers more than necessary as he does.

“L’chaim,” he says, lifting his glass up briefly.

“L’chaim,” Kaitlyn responds, mirroring his action.  

Mike knows how much Dalmore costs, which is why he’s never had it before.  It’s fucking fantastic.  

“Holy shit,” he breathes, before he has a chance to think better of it.

“I know, right?” Kaitlyn’s eyes sparkle.  “This is only the second time I’ve had this.  I’m actually surprised he’s letting us be alone with the bottle.”

She moves to sit in one of the chairs, and he takes the one next to her.  He can feel the scotch warming his insides as he takes another sip.  He’s probably imagining it, but already he thinks he can feel the cares of the week receding.  He’s not imagining that his leg is touching Kaitlyn’s, and neither of them are moving away.  

“So you’re Mike.  You look like him.  I’m sitting here putting a face to all the exploits he’s told me about. You were Special Forces, right?”

“A million years ago,” he says.  “And you’re a lawyer.”

“Don’t hold it against me. I’m nice.  I promise.”

Well, shit.  Now he’s starting to get hard.  Just like that.  “I believe you,” he says, surprised at the gravelly sound of his own voice.  

She smiles and they take another sip.  She is absolutely flirting.  She hasn’t looked away from his eyes since they sat down.

“He didn’t tell me you were beautiful.”  Mike’s shocked that he said that out loud, but not even a little bit sorry, because her reaction is absolutely worth it.  

“He did tell me you were,” she says, and she’s basically purring.  “But I already knew that.  He has pictures of you in his office.”

Mike gives a little embarrassed huff at that, but he leans toward her and puts an elbow on the table.

“What’s he like to work for?”

“He’s… ambitious. Hardworking.  Wants to do the right thing, but also wants to be seen to do the right thing, which isn’t always easy.”  She shrugs.  “Mostly he gets it right.”

“You like him.”

“I do.  I don’t always agree with him, but I believe in him.  He’s taught me a lot.”

Another short silence as they sip.  Damn, this is good stuff, Mike thinks.

“What’s it like to be his son?”

Mike laughs a little at that, sitting back and stretching out his legs, which happens to have the effect of putting more of him in contact with more of her.  “Depends on the day.”  He shrugs in obvious imitation of her.  “Mostly he gets it right.”

They share a warm, delighted smile at that, and Kaitlyn’s frankly approving look causes Mike’s brain to short-circuit a little.  Just enough that he says, “I see why he likes you.”

She just smiles softly at him.  Damn, he thinks.  His cock is fully awake now, and he’s going to have to watch it or it’s going to be noticeable when he has to walk out of here.  

They finish their drinks just as they hear the Chief call Mike’s name from his office.  

“Time to go,” Mike says regretfully, and stands.  “Thanks for the drink.”  He hesitates just a second.  “I’d like to do it again, when we have more time.  Maybe without Dad.”  He barely restrains his urge to wink.

“I’d like that,” Kaitlyn answers, a frank promise in her eyes.  Suddenly, she reaches to the center of the table and picks up a small pad of sticky notes and a pen.  She quickly scribbles on the pad, tears off the top note, and holds it out.  He can see she’s written her phone number on it.

“Text me your number. I’ll text you my address.  Come by after your dinner.”  She leans in as she hands it to him.  “Maybe without Dad.”  She does wink.  

Holy fuck.  Mike knows that if she looks, she’s going to be able to see the effect that has on him.

 He texts Kaitlyn in the cab on the way to the restaurant and, true to her word, she texts her address. “See you soon,” she says, and Mike reacts as though she’d written something explicit.  Mike enjoys his dinner with his dad as much as he’d expected, but he’s a little preoccupied.  When his dad says he has to get home, Mike feels a little guilty for being relieved.

Kaitlyn’s apartment is in an old building which was once a tenement, before the neighborhood was gentrified.  He likes it. It’s clear the apartments are tiny, but it’s a solid building, and they’ve done a nice job keeping the old-fashioned features while getting rid of the squalor.  When he knocks on her door, he wonders what she’ll be wearing.  His imagination, which is getting quite a workout tonight, conjures up all kinds of possibilities.  

She looks spectacular. Mike thinks his mouth might even be hanging open a little.  She’s wearing some kind of silky, pink lounging pants and a simple, white cotton top.  She’s barefoot, which shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. Her hair’s no longer in its prim work style; now it’s down, and it’s softly curly and even darker than it had looked earlier.  She smiles happily – and a little playfully, he thinks – and steps back to let him in. Her apartment’s a railroad flat with the living room just inside the door, but she stays in the hall and asks if she can take his coat.  All he’s wearing is his suit coat – it’s September, after all – but he likes the idea of taking it off, so he does.  She hangs it on one of several hooks on the wall behind the door, and that’s the end of the pleasantries.

He reaches for her at the same time she reaches for him.  She giggles just a little as she puts her arms around his neck, melting into him as he wraps one arm around her waist and one across her back with his hand at her neck.  She also kisses him back as enthusiastically as he’s kissing her.  It’s insanely hot to be in her apartment with her in his arms when they’ve said only a handful of sentences to one another.  For some reason, though, he’s also smiling as he kisses her.  He doesn’t know what that’s about, but she’s loosening his tie so he forgets to think about it.  

When she starts on the buttons of his shirt, he stops trying to hold his lower body away from her so she won’t feel how hard he is already.  Hell, he was half hard when he knocked on her door.  But now that he knows they’re on the same page, he uses the arm that’s around her waist to pull her hips to his.  She doesn’t bother unbuttoning his shirt all the way down, only far enough so that she can pull it off over his head.  When she does, he reaches down and gets a hold of her so he can lift her up. She immediately wraps her legs around him and mumbles, “Second door,” around his tongue.  

When he’s laid her on the bed and kicked off his shoes, he lays down and shifts around until he’s next to her with one arm under her neck and the other across her waist.  “You know what I do for a living.”

She looks slightly confused, with an adorable little wrinkle between her eyebrows.  “Yeah…?”

“Got kind of a thing about consent these days.  Hazard of the job.”  He kisses her and she puts her arms around him, but he holds back to whisper, “I need to be sure this is what you want.”

She actually throws her head back and laughs.  “Holy shit, Mike, I don’t know how to consent any harder.”

Now he laughs, too.  “I thought so, but…”

“I’m sorry,” Kaitlyn says, making an obvious effort to be more serious.  She looks into his eyes.  In the gloom of her bedroom, lit only by whatever lights are on in the living room, her eyes look huge.  How could he have thought she was just pretty earlier?  She’s fucking gorgeous.  “You’re right. I appreciate you looking out for me. And I want to look out for you, too.” She runs her fingers through his hair once, then leaves them there.  “I want you. I want this.”

“I do, too.”

“I want to take off the rest of your clothes.  And I want you to take mine off, too.”

He realizes she’s teasing him a little, but her expression and the way she’s breathing tell him there’s more than that going on.  “And then I want to touch you all over, and I want to kiss you everywhere.  After that, I want you to fuck me.  Slow, and for a long time.  How’s that for consent?”

Mike clears his throat, not entirely confident he’s capable of speech any longer.  “That’s some pretty fucking good consenting right there.”

“Thanks.”  She starts to work on his belt.  

“There’s some consenting I’d like to do, too.”

“Tell me.”  She stops with his belt half-unbuckled.  He has her full attention.

“After I get you naked, I want to run my hands all over your body, and then I want to taste you.  I want to lick you open, and fuck you with my tongue.  I want to listen to the sounds you’ll make, and then I want to watch you come.”

“Oh, shit.  I consent,” Kaitlyn gasps.  “Where do I sign?”

“We’ll take care of the paperwork later,” Mike chuckles, and takes control of Kaitlyn’s mouth.

She tastes like fresh toothpaste, like she’s just brushed her teeth, and he thinks she might have done it when he texted that he was five minutes away.  Something about the idea of her brushing her teeth in preparation for kissing him is sexy as all hell.  He wonders if she worried about her outfit like women tend to do. If she did, she got it absolutely right.  Mostly because it’s really easy to take off.  And although she is technically wearing a bra, it’s a lacy slip of nothing and he can see her nipples through it.  The thought of her choosing to wear that for him makes him have to stop rubbing against her for a minute so he doesn’t come within the first ten minutes of being in her apartment.  

She’s trying to get his pants off, but he’s chuckling as he blocks her, trying to get her clothes off first.  She’s laughing and being a very good sport about it, which he likes.  A lot.  And once he gets her naked, and sees her body in the half-light, he pulls her close and kisses her deeply for a long time, because holy flyin’ balls of shit. He’s gonna need to keep his pants on for a bit longer because, once again, he’s in danger of coming too soon.

Not to be denied, she slips her hand inside his open fly – she’s gotten that far – and starts to stroke him.  Her slight gasp when she feels his cock is really flattering.  He grits his teeth to try to maintain some control as he enjoys the living hell out of what she’s doing with her hand.  She’s multitasking, too, because although he’s completely unable to keep focusing on kissing, there’s something magical about the crazy-slow way she’s moving her lips against his, and that thing she’s doing with her tongue…

“Kaitlyn…”

“Everything OK?”  She stops everything she’s doing, but doesn’t move away.  

“Yeah,” he pants.  “I just…  you’re…”  He scrunches up his face and gives a couple laughs.  “I need a minute to, um, gather my thoughts.”

She smiles sweetly and takes her hand away, but stays right where she is, with her lips so close to his he can feel her breath and smell her toothpaste.  “Thanks?”

“Yeah.  Definitely a compliment.”

Kaitlyn lifts up on her elbow and rests her head on her hand, pushing slightly at Mike so he gets the idea she wants him to roll onto his back.  He does, and she starts to stroke his arms and chest, her face clearly showing that she’s impressed.  

“Mike…”  She breathes.  “You are… I mean, are you real?  Are you kidding me with this body of yours?”

He wears a pleased grin over the next several minutes as she uses her hands and her mouth to appreciate his chest, shoulders, arms, and then rolls onto him and begins with breathy kisses on his neck.  He groans and uses his hands on her hips to move her against him.  

“You ready for me to take these pants off you?”

“Hell, yes…”

She wastes no time getting him the rest of the way naked, then crawls sinuously up his body, pushing his legs apart as she moves between them.  

“Oh, no,” Mike says, sitting up enough to put his huge hands on her upper arms and slide her up his body. “I didn’t consent to that.”

“What?”  Kaitlyn’s obviously stunned.

Although she’s several inches shorter than Mike and he’s twice her size, Kaitlyn’s not small. Still, he has no trouble flipping them over until he’s suddenly on top of her, kissing her with a carnal laugh. “I’m the one who said I wanted to taste you.”

Kaitlyn, relieved, relaxes again and kisses him back.  “Shit…” she gasps as he uses his legs to move hers apart.  

She’s not touching his dick anymore, which helps, but she is making noises so erotic he thinks he still might come too soon.  And when he kisses his way down to her breasts and starts nuzzling a nipple, she puts her arms over her head, abandoning herself to him, which is so damn hot he’s pretty sure he’s whimpering.  He can’t be sure, though, because he’s way too focused on her.  

He loses track of time while he’s stroking and licking her breasts, teasing her nipples with his fingertips and his tongue until they’re as hard as his cock and she’s doing her own whimpering.  But it must have been quite a while, because he realizes she’s rocking her pelvis against him in a way that’s starting to feel demanding.  Being the gentleman he is, Mike doesn’t keep his lady waiting.  He kisses down her abdomen until he’s scooted down low enough to hook her thighs over his shoulders and nestle between them.

She’s dripping wet and moving against his mouth as soon as he begins to explore her.  “Aww, Kaitlyn, you taste so fucking good…” he murmurs between strokes with his tongue.  She’s moaning and he can hear how hard she’s breathing between short, whispered exclamations.   Which only intensifies as he begins to thrust his tongue into her, using a couple of fingers to softly, slowly spread some of her slick onto her puckered hole.  

“Mike…  Mike… now…  I wanna come-“

Remember the part about how Mike’s a gentleman?  He uses two fingers of his other hand to replace his tongue, and begins to circle the hard nub of her clit, paying attention to her to let him know how much pressure she likes.  He doesn’t need to worry about that, though, because she rubs against him, controlling the pressure herself.  He slides his fingers in and out, adding one in her other hole as he feels and hears her start to come apart.  He’d guessed that she’d be loud, and he’d been right.  Her cries, curses and filth interspersed with his name, and gasps of pleasure are even better than he’d hoped.  

When she’s been reduced to a quivering, whining mess, he feels her pull at his shoulders, and he’s more than ready to oblige.  He’s a little relieved he’s managed to hold off this long, but he knows when he gets inside her, he’s not going to last.  He quickly moves up to take her in his arms.  

“I gotta get-“ ��he gasps between kisses.

Kaitlyn reaches out an arm toward the bedside table at her left, but she can’t quite reach.  “Top drawer,” she whispers shakily.

Mike’s arms are much longer, and he has no trouble reaching the drawer and taking out the fresh pack of condoms.  “My kind of girl,” he chuckles deeply as he goes back to kissing her while he fumbles the box open.

“I stopped at the store on my way home,” Kaitlyn says between kisses.  

“You just assumed I was this easy?”

“I hoped,” she giggles.

He has to take a little time entering her, even as wet as she is.  

“Unh…” she grunts happily, using her heels against his back to adjust their positions so she can take all of him.  

“You OK?”

“I will be.  Oh, I will be…”

Once he’s inside her and starts moving, she decides he’s not close enough to coming on the first stroke and starts talking dirty to him, as if she knows how much he loves that.

“Oh, you should come with a fucking warning label…  Shit, Mike… Oh, my-  Fuck!  Mike, your cock is… magnificent…  Yes!  You feel so fucking good…”

And, with that, she starts to come again, and he’s gone.  He’s pretty sure they can hear him shouting three blocks away as he comes as hard as he ever has in his life.  Later, when his neurons begin firing again, he’s going to be a little embarrassed at how quickly he comes, but then, she started it.  It may not have taken any time to get there, but Mike’s orgasm feels like it lasts forever.  When it’s over, he rolls them over a little so that he’s not crushing Kaitlyn, but that’s the best he can do for a minute.  As soon as he catches his breath a little, he deals with the condom in a little trash can he noticed next to her bed, and then he’s done.  He pulls her into his arms with a luxurious sigh and goes into a hormone- and endorphin-addled trance.  

Kaitlyn’s not quite so languid, although she came twice.  She squirms around a little bit, until she’s facing him with one of his legs between hers.  He feels her stroking a hand over his shoulder and upper arm, and cracks an eye open to look at her.  She grins at him.  “Doze if you want.  I’ll just be over here fondling you, because damn.  You can’t expect me to just ignore guns like these.”

Mike chuckles quietly and murmurs, “Fondle away.”

He actually sleeps for a little bit.  When he wakes up, he’s blissfully surprised to find that Kaitlyn’s real, and she’s naked in his arms, and she’s smiling lazily at him.  He can’t help but smile back, although he can only imagine what a mess he is right now.  Kaitlyn, however, looks freshly fucked in the best possible way, her hair a little wild, her lips a little puffy from kissing, and her eyes heavy-lidded with sleepy satisfaction.

“You’re beautiful,” Mike murmurs, hearing the words before he’s had a chance to even process the thought.

“Right back atcha.”

“You want me to go?”

“I want you to stay. Will you?”

“Yeah.  I’d like that a lot.”  

 It’s the next morning that it happens.  Mike’s phone starts ringing at a ridiculous hour, especially considering that he and Kaitlyn woke each other up twice to make love again.  The phone is somewhere on the floor, in the pocket of Mike’s pants, and neither of them want to move from the warm, comfortable knot they’re in. But it keeps ringing.  As soon as it stops, it starts again.

“That trouble?” Kaitlyn asks, her voice a cute, scratchy groan.

“Could be.  I’m trying to remember how to move.”

“Sorry.  Can’t help you.”

“You’re going to need to get off of me.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Mike’s quiet laugh is regretful as he lifts Kaitlyn and sets her softly down next to him, then scoots to the edge of the bed.  He stands up, looking around for a moment before he sees his pants.  He slides the phone out of the pocket as it starts ringing again, and swears surprisingly viciously when he sees the name on the screen. He swipes down to decline the call and tosses the phone onto the deep reading chair in one corner of Kaitlyn’s bedroom.  He reaches down for his pants and sighs as he puts them on, then picks up his phone again.

“Everything OK?” Kaitlyn’s eyes are all the way open now.

“Yeah.  But I’m afraid I gotta go.”

“Who was that?”

“My-“  Mike bites back the word he was about to say.  

“Your…?”

“Nothing.”  Mike goes to the side of the bed and sits down next to Kaitlyn, putting an arm across her and grinning sheepishly down at her.  “I had a really, really good time.”

“Me, too,” Kaitlyn smiles. “And just think.  We haven’t even known each other twenty-four hours.”

“Just over twelve, actually,” Mike grins again and scratches his head.  “I’m so ashamed.”

“Me, too.  When can I see you again?”

“Another twelve hours?”

Kaitlyn’s about to enthusiastically agree, but Mike’s phone rings again.  He’s holding it in his hand, and he can tell the moment Kaitlyn sees the screen. It’s a picture of Mike and a cute woman with short, reddish-blonde hair, and they’re kissing while looking at the camera.  The name Susan is written in large letters across the top of the screen.  Mike feels Kaitlyn freeze.  He swipes his thumb down the screen, but not nearly quickly enough.  

She doesn’t say anything. Just looks at him.  But he can see the dawning hurt and anger in her eyes.

“Sorry about that.”

Kaitlyn’s voice is unemotional.  Way too unemotional.  “When I asked who it was, you said ‘my’, but you didn’t finish.  I’m guessing the next word was going to be ‘girlfriend’?”

“It’s… complicated,” he sputters, sounding lame as fuck, even to himself.

“Not to me.  Let yourself out, would you?  I’ve got time for another hour of sleep.”

She rolls away from him and pulls the covers up around her neck.  

“Kaitlyn-“

“Bye, Mike.  Nice to meet you.”  

For a minute, he thinks about trying to explain.  But he really can’t.  Fucking Susan.  He really should have had the balls to just end it.  Well, he’s sure as shit going to end it now.  Not that it will make any difference to Kaitlyn, who he’s sure is lying there thinking all kinds of nasty, shitty, true things about him.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters as he stands up to look for his shoes and the rest of his clothes.  

He feels like absolute crap as he lets himself out of Kaitlyn’s apartment.  

[alienduckpond]

Back in town - ch2 - Different Feelings

1 - Good Day

As Arlo introduces Ella to people around town, he contemplates how some of those people are making him feel

-~-

Sipping his drink as he leaned back against the counter, Arlo watched with a smile as Ella babbled happily with Sonia, Antoine, and Emily. It was kind of amazing to see how much twelve years away hadn’t changed her, while at the same time, it kind of had.

She had the same smile, the same laugh, the same blunt way of talking. But she somehow seemed a lot calmer and more together than he remembered her being, besides the whole throwing herself at him thing. 

When Gale had called out to them as they were crossing the plaza, and given Ella a list of shop owners in town to talk to, to help her settle in, he’d half expected her to hide behind him and go quiet, same as she had every time Gale had approached her as a child. But she wasn’t a shy seven year old anymore, and so had smiled and thanked him politely, actually making small talk with him before he’d hurried off to see Ginger. And when Arlo had led her into the Round Table for the lunch he’d offered her, she’d been happy to shake Django’s hand and join in with his jokes and laughter.

Until Sonia had seen her that was.

Sonia's happy shriek as she ran over to grab Ella and spin her round in a circle had drawn the attention of everyone in the restaurant, and Antoine and Emily had rushed over to join in too. And while Ella had seemed startled at first, she quickly relaxed into the happy bubbly person who’d jumped at him in the guild, and was chatting away to them like she’d just seen them yesterday.

He honestly didn't remember the four of them being that close before, he mused, swirling his drink. Ella had preferred to follow him around pretending to fight monsters rather than join in whatever safe game the other three were playing. But then, they had all been in the same learning group at school, being closer to her age than he was.

Django leaned on the counter next to him, and a quick glance showed him smiling indulgently at the group standing in the middle of the room.

"It sure is nice to see the young folk being so lively, don't you think? Makes me almost feel young again myself."

Arlo hummed happily as he watched them, content to stay sitting down. While he wasn’t that much older than any of them, the stress of being Captain certainly felt like he’d aged an extra ten years sometimes, so he’d take every chance to relax he could get.

"They certainly have energy," he agreed, draining the rest of his drink then setting the glass down on the counter. He noticed the paper boxes next to Django’s elbow and made a questioning noise as he pointed at them, picking them up at his answering hum, then pushing himself to his feet. 

“Thanks Django, I’ll be back later to settle the tab.”

“No rush my boy, take your time and make sure young Gaby there knows her way around town, and meets everyone she’s meant to. And be sure to bring her back for a proper meal sometime soon. I’d love to hear whatever stories she has from Barnarock.”

He nodded, then turned towards the group still standing in the middle of the floor. He caught Emily’s eye, who nudged the others to all turn to him, then lifted up the boxes and gave Ella a pointed look. She pouted but nodded, giving the others one last hug before joining him as he walked to the door.

“Aaaah, that was fun! I’m going to have to catch up with them properly at some point, but it was so amazing to see them! Say, who else is still here in town? Is Barb still here? And what about Ty? He always said he wanted to head to Walnut Groove and hit the stage. And what about-”

She cut herself off with a squeak when the door swung open as she reached for it, and he only just managed to shoot his hand forward and catch it before it hit her in the face. She slowly opened her eyes from her flinch to stare at the edge of the wood, less than a hand’s breadth in front of her, before yelping and stumbling back a few steps. He looked her over carefully, checking if she was actually hurt, before straightening to his full height and pulling the door the rest of the way open. Albert was standing on the step and looking up at him, startled.

“Albert,” he gritted out, acknowledging the other man, who winced and took half a step back as his shoulders hunched up.

“I’m sorry mate, I didn’t expect anyone to be right behind it. Are you ok Miss? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Arlo stared at him blankly, because no, fine, that was fair. He couldn’t really hold it against him, and Ella was already laughing anyway, and holding his arm as she leaned around him.

“No, I’m fine thanks." She glanced up at Arlo quickly, looking expectant, and he blinked at her before realising she wanted an introduction.

“This is Albert, he co-owns A and G Construction along with Gust. Don’t,” he warned her as she pulled a face, suddenly remembering how much they hadn’t gotten on before. Oooh, that was going to be fun.

She shot him a quick glare, looking like she’d bit a lemon, then closed her eyes to take a slow breath, before smiling at Albert and sticking out her hand. "Hi! I’m Gaby, the new builder, I just moved into the old workshop by the west gate. It’s nice to meet you.”

“So you’re the new builder are you?” Albert asked, reaching out to take the hand she’d offered him, and Arlo felt his shoulders tense at the distinct change in his tone. “Hello there. My company handles all the building and workshop upgrades in Portia, so I’m sure we’ll be getting to know each other pretty well soon enough.”

“Huh, I can upgrade stuff?” Ella asked, sounding interested, and he growled low in his throat when he saw the sparkle in Albert’s eye because Peach help him, no. No, he had to find some way to keep Albert from being alone with her, because there was no way, no way at all that he was going to stand back and allow that giant flirt to try and put the moves on his little Ella!

“I’ll come by with her later so you can explain Albert, but we were just leaving?” Arlo said, a hint of steel in his voice he was very grateful to see Albert picked up on, from the way his eyes darted to his face and he then swallowed.

“Ah, right. I’ll be seeing you around then.”

“Yeah, see you!” she chirped, seemingly oblivious to the tension between him and Albert, and walked ahead of him outside into the sunlight. He tried to breathe slowly and relax his muscles as he passed her one of the lunches Django had made for them, before wrapping his arm around her shoulders to start them moving. 

He chewed his lip as he thought over that interaction, trying to decide if he was being paranoid, or if it was even his place to decide who could or couldn’t flirt with her. But no, no he knew what Albert was like, and he'd seen the way his attitude changed when he realised she wasn't a tourist. And she was practically his sister, so he could at least warn her, right?

“Be careful of him,” he told her as levelly as he could as they headed down the main street. “He’s got something of a reputation in town.”

“Well, yeah, I can imagine,” she agreed, letting him steer her through the gate under the sky bridge into the park and moving to sit down in the middle of the grass facing Alice’s flower shop. “Co-owning a construction company must mean he’s pretty smart, and probably rich. He’s gotta be super nice too I imagine, to put up with grumpy old windy-pop.”

He sighed as he settled down next to her, watching fondly as she flipped open her box and started to dig in to her food, slurping up noodles loudly. 

“You shouldn’t call him that,” he chided gently as he pulled a napkin from his pocket and dropped it on her knee, before copying her less messily. “Gust had a lot going on back then, and he’s a lot better nowadays. Sort of. And you’re probably going to end up working with him quite a lot so you’ve got to at least try.” 

He didn't want to deal with a reemergence of their old, whatever it had been. Because while Gust was nowhere near as antagonistic as he’d been when they were young, he still seemed to struggle with ‘civil’ sometimes. And while things had improved a little right before Ella had left, with Gust actually helping her with the loss of her Ma and all, he could see her sparking up his old petty streak very easily. She looked at him flatly, clearly not believing him, and he decided he’d have to work on convincing her.

“And I meant a different kind of reputation,” he went on, raising his eyebrows at her and hoping she'd catch his meaning, but apparently she didn’t. She simply stared at him, eyes wide and curious and not even a hint of comprehension in them.

"Well what kind did you mean then?"

He hesitated, then sighed as he shook his head. He was starting to remember more about her, and how she’d been kind of oblivious about some things, and had had no interest at all in the ‘sappy stuff’ that the others sometimes played at. He watched her blink a few times, before shrugging and going back to her meal. It was fine, he decided. He'd just make sure to chat with Albert before he could try anything, make sure he knew how important Ella was to him, and how unhappy he’d be if Albert were to try and mess with her, or ignored his hints like he ignored Gust’s to stay away from Ginger. And then he’d try to have this talk with Ella again, after he’d worked out how to say... whatever it was he needed to say?

"Oooh, who's that? He’s so fluffy!"

Ella was staring towards the main street, and he looked over to see Oaks waiting by the metal bars, looking straight at him. He lowered his box of food and dropped his fork in it, and Oaks took the invitation to walk over.

“Hello,” Oaks said, giving a little wave at Ella, who waggled her fork back at him. Arlo cleared his throat, brows raised, and Oaks stood up a little straighter.

“Sorry to bother you Arlo, but Papa said there’ve been some strange monsters by the falls all morning, and he thought you should know.”

“What sort of strange?” he asked, starting to frown. While he trusted Abu’s judgement, his definition of strange covered a wide range of things.

“He wasn’t sure, but he said whatever it is is leaving big tracks, and smells mean. And it looks like the group of Mudcrabs on the other bank is smaller than yesterday.”

“Right,” Arlo said with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Thanks for telling me, we’ll make sure to check it out. Tell him to stay away from the falls for a while, I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Oaks nodded at him, though his attention was clearly on Ella, who had scooted forward and was ghosting her fingers just above the fur at the bottom of his cloak.

“Erm, hi?”

“Oh,” Ella squeaked, snatching her hand back as her head snapped up to face Oaks. “Erm, sorry. It just looks so soft. What sort of fur is it?”

“It’s ok, you can go ahead and touch it. It really is nice and soft.” Oaks grinned, squatting down next to her and sticking his arm out, fur side up. “It’s a bear skin, so I can match my Papa.”

“Your Papa wears a bear cloak too then?” she asked, her hand brushing along the fur, before her fingers sunk a little ways into it. Arlo started eating again, watching carefully. While he was pleased she was actually talking to Oaks without prompting, he wasn’t sure if he should be concerned by the slight blush on her cheeks, or the way she was looking up through her fringe at him.

“No. Papa is a bear.”

He quickly shoved a large forkful of spaghetti in his mouth to stop the laughter bubbling out at the completely blank expression that crossed Ella’s face. Oaks tilted his head to the side, also watching Ella as her mouth silently worked, her brows drawing together and her nose scrunching up. She stayed like that for a breath, before shaking her head and smiling again. She had apparently decided for now to ignore the entire issue that, based on what she’d been like as a child, he was certain was now bothering her immensely, and he’d be getting a million questions over later.

“Ok. That’s cool,” she said quickly, in what was definitely her ‘not dealing with this right now’ voice. “This really is nice and warm. Don’t you get hot wearing it?”

Oaks didn’t even blink at the abrupt change in topic. “Oh, no, see, it’s only really held on by this strap and at my fingers, so the rest isn’t actually close to my skin. Here, do you want to try it on?”

He froze, only half listening as Ella waved him off, laughing and leaning back and saying something else.

That had sounded an awful lot like flirting to him. And that was making him feel, something. 

Because while he would happily admit that Oaks was a fine, strong, dependable young man, who had grown up a lot in recent years, his opinion of him would always be clouded by his initial impression. That of a scruffy young boy covered in mud and not much else, barely speaking anything other than animal noises, who had scared Emily by jumping out of a bush holding a baby llama.

The thought of Oaks flirting with Ella, his little Beany Boo, was, well.

It was giving him a different feeling to when he’d thought Albert was going to flirt with her, that was for sure, but it still wasn’t a good thing.

But then, they didn’t look like they were flirting? he questioned to himself as he watched them, both wide eyed and listening intently as the other talked, but sitting back and giving each other plenty of space. And again, was it even his place?

He sighed silently as he listened to Ella laugh loudly at something Oaks was saying. It seemed he had a lot more to chew on than just his lunch.

-~-

3 - BooBoo Pouch

[divagonzo]

Funny Business (Pt. II) Ron & Harry (aka Sore Feet)

Ao3 // FF.net

Part I

A/N: as promised, here is Part II for those in Blackpool and Rio Linda. As before, this is rated T/15 for innuendo and risque banter only. This isn’t necessarily Ace Safe so if you have any questions, I’ll happily answer them, on anonymous or not. This chapter is entirely Mostly in thanks to @fightfortherightsofhouseelves who kicked my ass for short-changing this chhapter. And I probably will write a third chapter when I get a few minutes from finishing 2 WIPs and updated the Multi-chapters that have been on hiatus - and starting a new Multi-Chapter fic starting April for hopefully May publishing start. - DG

Note: This isn’t Ron/Harry. This is Ron & Harry - platonic BrOTP. #justsayin

“So whose bloody idea was this?” Ron scrambled across a section of rocks before getting to the top of the ridge and waited for Harry. He was a little more nimble and made it up easy.

Harry bent over to loosen a stitch in his side. “Our wives, ya git.” He sucked in deep breaths for the fast climb up the switchbacks to the top. The 18kg pack on his back weighted him down some, with all of the gear they needed for their hiking trip.

“Our wives, ya git.” Harry huffed and panted as he walked up the hillside with the 17kg pack on his back. “I told Ginny about not spending time with you and this was what they came up with.” Harry stood up and continued walking forward on the trail, looking for the particular stop point Hermione mentioned for them.

“All you had to do was ask. It’s not like I won’t make time for my best mate.” Ron huffed on the climb up the trail.  He followed Harry and his pace. They learned the first hour that Harry couldn’t quite keep up with Ron’s stride.

“I didn’t know that. We barely talk except about business when I see you at work. Then you also work with George and he takes so much of your time too that I might see you outside of work once a month. The few times we had arrangements to meet, George had something for you last minute, or he tagged along, or you had to cancel because George had an idea and you had to work instead.” Harry stepped up to the fallen tree in front of him and groaned. “Look, I get it. George needs you. And you are part owner of the shop. But it seems like he’s your best mate now and I’m Dudley to you - on Christmas card terms.” Harry shifted the pack on his back before climbing up and over the tree. “Why did I promise my wife I’d do this without magic? This is bloody ridiculous.” He looked and saw that there were half a dozen more down before they could get back on the trail. He stepped off and landed with a thud. “This is like being on assignment except we’re not getting paid for it.”

“Hell if I know. But somehow Hermione got me to agree, too. She said something about character building or some other sort of rubbish.” Ron sat on the tree and swung his legs over. “I have enough character without adding more to it.”

“And this is the first night of our trip. Why the bloody hell did we agree on a four-day hiking trip to find our wives and kids? Oh right, that was my sister’s idea - and my wife’s too.”

Harry stopped and gave Ron a face. “You were incredibly busy so we had to schedule something. You were either on duty or working for George, with the only time you had left was either asleep or with the kids. And I’m not asking you to choose between me and the kids, no matter how much I natter.”

Harry shifted his pack on his hips before continuing on the trail. Even with the weight on his back and the fatigue he felt from hiking for eight hours, admitting such feelings to his best mate was freeing. Why hadn’t he said anything months ago? Then again, he trusted his wife to hear what he was thinking, admitting his vulnerability and not take the piss out of him.

Then again, he had to give Hermione credit. Being out here, in the woods with Ron with no one owling him constantly or sending emergency Patronus about not emergencies. Out here it was just a ruck full of gear, meals, water, and accommodations: tents, camp seats, cots, and other reasonable amenities. Hermione did the magic on their hiking rucks but didn’t make adjustments for the weight. Anything they wanted, they had to carry it – heavy or otherwise.

“Why the bloody hell did I think I needed a cast iron skillet for making our dinner? This ruck weighs too many bloody kilos.”

“You said you needed it for breakfast, to do a proper fry-up with eggs, rashers, and bangers, along with scones and other proper breakfast fares. I warned you but you said you couldn’t cook without it.”

“Well I’m a sodding git, that’s for sure.”

“No, you’re not. And I’m the one who insisted on bringing a full pillow and heavy sleeping bag.”

“Well, that’s just being smart since it’s supposed to be down ‘round 10 tonight. It might not be like sleeping rough in Scotland under the stars but I don’t want to repeat that on this trip.”

“Don’t remind me. That was a mission I intentionally blocked out and refused to tell Ginny about. She’d have gone spare if she knew that you were injured and we were out in freezing conditions and the only way we could survive was changing my Auror issue jacket into a wonky tent and your manky boots into some reasonable semblance of a sleeping bag. I doubt they’d understand that to keep from freezing to death that night was sleeping in that grotty bag together.”

Ron roared laughing. “I bet the only ones who wouldn’t take the piss from that situation would be Aurors who have gone through it countless times. And lemme say, mate, that you are not Hermione in the least.”

“And you’re not Ginny. You snore like a sodding steam train.”

“Let’s hope that we don’t chase a Death Eater wanna-be across a frozen lake and it wasn’t as frozen as we thought. Pulling your arse from the freezing waters was hard as hell. You had no dry clothes so stripping you down to your pants and then bundling you in the makeshift tent with a big fire did help until I could magically dry your clothes. I didn’t want to see your pasty arse, nor do I want to see it ever again.”

“Look who is talking, Mr. Specky Scrawny git. I’ve seen your arse too often for my own good, usually while it’s giving my Sister the business. It’s bad enough I hear her calling you her bitch.”

“I dunno where that started,” Harry stomped through a swollen creek, getting his trainers wet. “But she says that and then likes it when I tell her off for saying that. It’s gotten to be a game now.”

“I’m glad I don’t have to see that anymore, at least unless we’re at Mum’s for an entire day and you find an unoccupied bedroom.”

“Hypocrite. You have no qualms finding a quiet spot to –“

“Well, yes, that’s true. She’s gagging for me so much that – “

“I don’t need to hear any more. I’ve seen enough to need an Obliviator!”

“When have you seen anything, git?”

“Got a month? You and Hermione lived with us at Grimmauld Place for a few years ‘til you got married.”

“So I ask again: When did you ever see us like that?”

Harry stopped and turned around, looking slightly mortified. “Let’s see. There was the dining room table one night when Ginny came home from a late practice. And the time you broke the bed. And then there was the time in the front parlor, on the floor, and another time on the couch. I won’t even mention the downstairs loo or the upstairs loo when you forgot to close the door.”

“Well fuck.”

“Yeah, exactly what I said when I saw the two of you all,” Harry motioned with his hands in a general example of carnal relations with their spouse, “and many times more.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not a pervert. I’d think you were a voyeur or something.”

Harry picked up a clod of dirt and threw it at his best mate, striking him in the shin.

“What was that for, you git?”

“I’m not a voyeur. The two of you didn’t have the decency of doing it behind closed doors.”

“Says the hypocrite who had no qualms shagging his wife in public places.” Ron passed Harry on the trail and he had to race to catch up to his long-legged best friend.

“I can’t help it that she finds me fanciable and can’t wait to get her rocks off.”

They continued another hour before Ron pulled to a halt to stop and refill his water bottles.

“Didn’t Hermione say she’d leave a Harpy’s towel on a tree when there was a campsite nearby?”

“Yeah, she did,” Ron answered between chugs of water. “She said us obvious walnuts wouldn’t miss it.”

Harry pointed to the Harpies towel draped over a limb on a tree a few meters in front of him with a glowing arrow pointing to the right. The followed it for a few minutes and found a clearing next to a stream. “It looks like this is the spot they intended for us to camp at for the night.”

Harry walked to the other side of the clearing where there were some logs laid out, possibly for sitting or to contain a fire.  “Well, the stream is over there so we can get water for tea and there’s room to make camp on this side.”

“It’s a good thing it’s not hot,” Ron grumped. “I’d be miserable if it was hot.” Ron dropped his ruck to get his water bottle out and was chugging more down. Harry followed suit with his own bottle. “But knowing our wives, they’re going to kick us out like this often to get a break. Shit, I need a new shirt. I feel like I took a shower wearing my clothes.”

“Well you do look like a ponce dressed like that.” Harry smirked at Ron’s attire. He had on some hiking shorts made of some material Hermione called poly-something and a Canon’s t-shirt made of something that wasn’t cotton and a fluffy jacket she called Down. Down with what, he didn’t know.  The trainers he had on were quite nice, even if he groused earlier about them looking like oversized bloody beater bats. She even refused to do an extension charm on his pack so he could carry more things easier. “You should learn to do with only the basics, Ron.”

“Sod that,” he replies before being hit in the face with a set of socks.

“So how long do we have to get where our families are?”

“Hermione said it’s another 60 kilometers to their campsite from this one. She didn’t tell me where exactly but said if we followed the trail we’d run across them. So the way we’re going that should be not tomorrow night but the next one. ”

“So we are camping out in this rubbish for the night, by ourselves? And no Hermione or anyone else?” Ron looked a touch concerned. “I don’t have terribly fond memories of camping.”

“It sure looks like it and I don’t either. But maybe we can change that with this trip and future ones.”

“If I wake up with a bloody badger in the tent I’m blaming you for it.”

“You won’t. I can’t guarantee tomorrow or at the next 2 campsites.” Harry ducked the gob of mud Ron threw before grabbing the kettle and scurrying off for the stream. They’d flipped a galleon to see who would set up camp and who would get the water they would need for the night and the next morning. He trod back on the stream to collect water and have a few minutes to think.

He still felt like getting a few things off his chest with Ron but figured it could wait until later tonight or even tomorrow. He filled the litre bottles along with the kettle and walked back to camp. When he returned Ron had the spacious tent set up along with a fire started. “At least they picked a decent spot for us.” Ron was digging in his ruck and yanked out a cauldron that looked big enough for Mrs. Weasley to feed the entire family. Ron pulled his wand and pointed it at the cast iron cauldron, silently casting Tertego to clean it.

Harry gasped. “You’re using magic to set it all up?”

“Why not? I’m hungry. There’s food in my pack that needs to be eaten. I’m quite sure you’re peckish too.” Ron reached down deep inside his ruck and pulled out an enormous earthen pot. “Dinner tonight is Irish Stew and I have a loaf of bread for it, too.”

Harry sighed. “Why not?” He pulled his wand and set up his tent which connected to Ron’s. They hadn’t seen a soul all day on the trail so Harry didn’t anticipate seeing anyone tonight sharing their camping site. The seclusion was nice especially outside and away from the hustle and bustle of their frantic lives. It was what he quietly needed – time away from everything to relax with his best mate and talk – or not talk.

“Hey Ron?”

Ron poked his head up from his pack, holding a huge platter of food that Hermione packed for him. Harry knew he had one too in his ruck.

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you said you’d do this with me.”

“Well, don’t tell Hermione but I needed the break from working too much too. Fortunately I got things settled at the Ministry and George would have coverage for the few days we’re gone.”

“Ron?” Harry felt his insides curdling like bad milk.

“Yeah?”

“We should do this more often.” Harry wanted to slap himself silly for not admitting what he really wanted to say.

“We will.” Ron took the kettle back from Harry and hung it over the fire to heat the water for their tea. He took the kettle off and put their meals packed in foil to reheat.

Harry opened his ruck and shoved his arm down deep to find the camp chair he’d packed. There was a second one in there too, for Ron, since he carried their cooking pots. He found both and yanked them out. With a little bit of help via magic, he had the chairs sitting close to the fire with a cold butterbeer. He’d brought them with.

Ron poked at the fire with a stick, getting the foil packets flipped. “What?” he asked when Harry was giving him a particular look. “So I’m trying to keep to the spirit of this trip,” he said.

Harry sat back laughing. “I’m glad you’re trying, at least.”

“I thought you’d have brought some of those sodding foam pads for us to sit on.”

“Nah. I figured I could hump the chairs for us to use.”

“I’m glad you did. I didn’t think I could stand sitting my arse on the ground for a couple of nights. We did enough of that way back when and I didn’t want to do it again.”

“You’re getting soft in your old age.” Harry’s grin gave away his cheek.

“Nope, just my arse. The kids keep me young and so do my manticores.”

“It’s cute how you refer to the Aurors in your charge.”

“What, manticores? Nah. That’s Rose and Hugo. The Aurors are a breeze compared to them. Merlin, who’d have thought they’d have Hermione’s thirst for knowledge, my appetite, her insomnia, and my propensity to be loud. It’s a wonder we can get them to sleep six hours a night. Merlin knows that it doesn’t happen as much as we’d like. I blame it on Hermione’s insomnia while she was pregnant and on bedrest.”

“Then it’s a good thing that Hermione can work from home. I know you wouldn’t want your Mum to keep the kids the few extra days.”

“Hermione does, sometimes, during the summer when the kids are home. But then she’s in the office at 5am and then off at 2 unless something comes up. I pack them off to primary and she picks them up afterwards. It’s the best of both worlds.” Ron pulled the kettle off of the fire and made them tea.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, about George. He’s my brother and I love him.  And there are days I want to throw a cauldron at him. But I choose you any day and twice on Holidays. However, George still needs me. You don’t, not like he does. You don’t need me to get through your rough rays or take over when you’re curled up in a ball and can’t move much less function.”

“I do need you. You’re my best friend.”

“I know.” Ron handed over a huge bowl of stew to Harry before moving his chair over next to him. “It’s been barmy the last month and I heard it from Hermione. But I’ll also tell George he needs to share me more.” Ron grinned over his bowl of stew. “I hadn’t realized that it had gotten so bad that I hadn’t seen you otherwise in months. Anyway, I trust Ginny to be there for you. When she can’t handle it, I’m there. We might be busier than rent boys trying to make the rent the next day but I’m not going anywhere. Only way I’m abandoning you is if I board the train before you do – and then I’m not getting on it ‘til you get there.

Harry’s ears and face burned bright. Ron rarely spoke so forcefully about their friendship.

“If you want your stew warmed I’ll trade it out for fresh in the pot.”

Harry shook himself from his thoughts. “What?”

“Food. Hot. Eat.” Ron smirked.

“Oh yeah, right.” Harry handed over his bowl and Ron traded it out for hot stew. Harry tucked in to clear the loadstone from his throat and to fight back the tears threatening to make him look a ponce.

“So since you’re an original investor in the Wheezes – “

“I told George that it was a gift, not an investment.”

“And I told you that you were full of shite. I already have Fred’s shares but you are still a silent partner. It’s in the contract. So I can discuss with you our ideas for the coming year.”

“Ron, it’s still business.”

“So? It’s funny business. It’s full of laughs and gags and pranks. And listen, I have this idea for a line of kid’s pranks, funny and intended to teach safe prank ideas instead of mean ones.” Ron launched into his ideas for new products, ones that George was testing currently. “And I will mention the new sign: Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes - Funny Business, Inc.”

Harry laughed. He laughed so hard that his sides were hurting.

“And that profit amount goes to the Fred Weasley Hogwarts Trust.”

Harry choked on his laugh. “You’re finally doing it? For real?”   

“Yeah, I finally am. George is in agreement, and so is Hermione. Bill will administer it so it won’t deplete financially and Dad and Fleur will oversee it, so no one is in complete control. It’s a win/win for everyone.”

“You know how many kids will be able to – “

“I do. I promised myself that if I ever got rich – as in having enough money with more left over that I can’t decide on how to spend it, that I’d set this up. So I am. Percy got the house but I got the vault. He wanted her House and she doted on him as her favorite – but the vault was how Mum made sure I was sorted. She knew the rest would be fine. Between George and Bill, I’m probably as wealthy as you are.”

Harry sat there boggled. He didn’t know, at all.

“Blimey!” “Yeah, pretty mad, isn’t it?”

“Completely mental, isn’t it?” He got lost in his own thoughts until Harry pointed out the cauldron turning a faint shade of orange. Ron pulled it off the direct fire and let it hover higher over it before setting it down on the flat stones surrounding the fire.

They both had been too busy to talk bollocks in entirely too long.

“So let me tell you about the time I turned my hair green from a potion exploding in the stockroom one time.” He lit into the story, leaving nothing out, and Harry was falling out of his chair laughing until his sides hurt again.

The laughs between best friends went on for hours, even as tired as they were.  Only when the fire burned down to ash and the stars provided the only light did they turn into their respective bunks in the combined tent, each sleeping soundly for the first night in months.

The next morning, all was well between the best friends.