PG / Finished Thread.
Clara’s advice to just calm down wasn’t really helping – Malcolm had burnt the first set of vegetables he had been trying to sauté, mostly because he’d not been paying attention to the pan in his hand, while running through the million other things he needed to finish. A quick wave of his wand had banished the charred veggies and the smell, which he was definitely grateful for. By 7:23, Malcolm was dressed and finishing up setting the table, the baked ragú had about fifteen minutes left in the oven.
He poured two small glasses of before-dinner wine and took a sip of his before noticing a pillow out of place and he rushed over to fix it. Malcolm lived in a nice three-bedroom place, one of the bedrooms was a guest stay for his brothers and the other had been turned into a library/office of sorts. He’d taken the door off of it so you could go in while walking and reading and not run into it, so you could see inside the room from the couch. His place was pretty chic and clean, Malcolm was definitely not his brothers.
And he was not calm. What if Jamie thought his place was too gay and freaky? What if he hated Italian, no matter what he’d said in that letter? Or what if he didn’t show up? He’d been worried about not getting an owl, or actually getting a rude howler, but now he was worried that Jamie would get cold feet and stand him up. Ugh, this whole asking someone out kind of sucked. Now Malcolm felt bad for some of the guys he’d turned down before.
After his art class, Jamie had gone home to change, which had been far less difficult than he originally had thought. He'd imagined one of his parents noticing he was home and dragging him into the pub to help out or something, causing him to have to hurriedly and conveniently reschedule, but that didn't happen. Instead, he had a shower and got dressed in peace, save for the thoughts swirling about his head.
He was going on a date with a bloke--a bloke he barely knew. He could be a serial killer for all he knew! He didn't think Malcolm was, but then a lot of them looked like everybody else, didn't they? Still, his gut didn't tell him he was going to hurt him, and he tended to trust his instincts whenever possible. Of course, in this instance, his instincts said way too many things, but none of them said Malcolm was inviting him over to inflict bodily harm on him. Instead, they told him he was being silly to think such a thing and to worry about other things, like why he was bothering to fuss over clothes and whether or not he'd try to make some kind of secret pass at him.
Eventually, Jamie settled on a simple pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a jumper, and his coat. He didn't bother to check himself in the mirror (because that would imply things he didn't want to think about) before leaving. He'd considered just Apparating, but he had the time to take the Underground, and he really liked riding it, so he decided to travel by Muggle means. When he got off at the proper spot, he looked at the slip of paper containing the address, sighed, and heading off in search of it, finding it pretty quickly.
Jamie stood on the stoop for a good five minutes, peering up at the building, double-checking the building number, and working up his nerves to hit the buzzer. He checked his watch a few times, and at 7:26, he finally hit the buzzer for Malcolm's flat.
Malcolm jumped up and nearly tossed the wine all over himself when the buzzer went off, and he quickly set the glass back down, and strode over to the door, hitting the call button, “Hey Jamie. Either up the lift to the third floor, door on the left or up the stairs and it’s the door on the right.” He pressed the door-open button and the door buzzed back again.
Running his hands down his chest, he smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt and looked around the flat for anything out of place. When there was a knock on the door, Malcolm took a deep breath and opened the door. When he saw Jamie’s face he grinned broadly and moved aside to let him in. “Welcome!” Malcolm paused and fiddled with his sleeves, “Um, thanks for coming. Do you…want a drink? Dinner’s not quite done yet so…”
Jamie had taken the lift, mostly to give him time to think while forcing him not to stop midway from the front door to Malcolm's door. He'd paused outside the door before knocking, and when Malcolm opened the door and smiled, Jamie smiled back. His smile wasn't nearly so broad as Malcolm's, but it was still friendly. He quickly stepped inside and glanced around before returning his attention back to Malcolm to answer the question.
"A drink would be nice," Jamie said, nodding a bit. At the least, a drink would give him something to do with his hands and mouth in case this got awkward fast. And while he certainly wasn't comfortable with the idea of a date with a bloke, he wasn't about to let it get awkward. If it got awkward, well, he wasn't sure, but he knew he didn't want it to be awkward. And he knew it'd be weird if Malcolm came to the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow for lunch or something after an awkward time, and that'd make it really awkward. So yes. He didn't want it to be awkward, and he inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly through his nose, looking around the flat again.
“Excellent,” Malcolm said, “If you want, there’s a coat hook there,” he pointed at the few hooks that were on the wall next to the door. Normally he probably would have offered to take it, but they were doing the whole No Touching rule so Malcolm left it up to Jamie and hoped he wasn’t coming off rude. He then led Jamie over to the bar-style counter that looked into the kitchen from the edge of the living area and handed him the other glass of wine while pulling out one of the stools for him.
Stepping behind him into the kitchen, “How was your weekend? And your class? You had the first one tonight right?” he asked while pulling a tomato out a plastic bag and washing it. He could work and listen at the same time. Malcolm started slicing the fruit for the salad, glancing up at Jamie with what was hopefully a friendly smile.
Jamie hung his coat up and then followed, taking the offered seat and glass of wine. "This was my second class, actually," he said, taking a small sip. "And my weekend was all right. Yours? And, er, your day? What do you do anyway?" he asked, realising he didn't actually know what Malcolm did. Not really. Sure, he'd seen some papers at his table, but that didn't really tell him much more than he was working on something, and for all he knew, that was a hobby. He took another small sip of wine, watching Malcolm prepare their dinner.
“My weekend was good, I hung out with my brothers and helped them prepare for Valentine’s. Well, half of them at least. The older two don’t really do the whole ‘dating’ thing and one is engaged so he’s got that kind of stuff to take care of and then my little brother, he’s got this really high-maintenance girlfriend, not that he’s not high-maintenance himself, but…” Malcolm gave him one of those ‘you know what I mean’ looks as he continued chopping up for the salad.
“Eh? Oh, I’m a wardsmith. Generally I contract to the ministry for things like quidditch matches and muggle repelling stuff, but lately it’s become a freelance kind of things. People who build their homes and want the protection of wards. I also do things like kid proofing and protecting artifacts. Generally anything that needs a ward I can come up with. It’s a lot of arithmancy and maths.” He finished the salad as he finished talking, realizing he’d been the only one talking and scrambled for questions to ask Jamie.
“What’s your favorite art medium then? How long have you been drawing?”
As he listened, Jamie fiddled with his wine glass. He heard everything Malcolm said, but his eyes shifted back around, still taking in the place. It was nice, and he thought being a wardsmith must pay decently enough for sure. Not that he was after money or anything. He was just making notes in his head before turning back to Malcolm at the questions. After all, he didn't want to seem rude or like he really wasn't listening even when he was.
"Pencil or pen. They're easiest to carry, really, and you can always erase a mistake with pencil." He took another sip of wine. "And I don't know," he said with a shrug. "I guess as long as I could hold a crayon." He paused a moment. "What made you want to be a wardsmith?"
He took a sip of his wine and watched Jamie as he talked, trying not to get lost in his thoughts about how cute the other man was or how nice his lips looked and actually listening to the words that were coming out of his mouth. “That sounds sensible. I can’t draw anything but straight lines and circles. What’s your favorite thing to draw?”
Malcolm went to the oven and looked at the timer, bending down to check in the little window, the dish was bubbling nicely and would be ready in a few minutes, good. He leaned his hip against the counter on the other side from where Jamie was sitting, holding his glass in one hand and letting the other drape across his abdomen for lack of anything else to do.
“It’s kind of dorky actually,” Malcolm admitted with a sheepish look, “I’ve got four brothers and growing up with that you have pretty much zero privacy, so I wanted to come up with a way to lock them out, I guess. Plus, I love arithmancy and have this ability to feel wards and curses. It’s like wearing a wool sweater in July that’s two sizes two small. So it was either that or cursebreaking and I don’t really like goblins.” He scrunched his nose in distaste.
Jamie shrugged again, saying, "I don't think I have a favourite thing to draw." And he really didn't. He just liked to draw, and he wasn't normally too picky about the subject. So long as it struck him as interesting and the desire to draw hit him, he'd draw it.
"And it's not dorky," he said. "I've got two brothers and a sister, so I get the lots of siblings with little privacy." He nodded a bit, taking another sip. "But not the arithmancy. I'm rubbish with numbers for the most part. I can do basics, but none of the really complex and involved things." He licked his lips and looked down a moment.
“Other than work and drawing, what else do you do?” Malcolm asked and took a drink before the buzzer went off. He smiled at Jamie and set his glass down before grabbing potholders and attending to the baked ragu. He pulled it out and set it on the hob top, replacing it with the bread. He turned back to Jamie and gathered up the bottle of wine and salad, “While that cools and stuff we can move over to the table,” he motioned for Jamie to follow him and set the things down on a nice wooden table around the corner from the kitchen. The place settings were kitty-corner from each other, and Malcolm hoped Jamie just saw that it was easier to pass food and stuff, and not the real reason of wanting to sit closer to the other man.
"I’ll be right back, but help yourself to the salad and veggies,” he pointed at the other pot that was full of steamed vegetables, that had finished way earlier than expected so Malcolm had just put them on the table with a heating charm. He ran back into the kitchen and pulled the small dessert out of the freezer so it would thaw by that time. Malcolm got the bread and the dinner and set them on the table in front of Jamie. He sat down with a smile and offered him the serving spoon for the hot food, before putting salad on his own plate. “I hope you don’t mind Italian, I know you said in the letter anything is fine, but it’s the easiest to make, I think. Plus, I like cheese."
Jamie opened his mouth to reply to the question (with no real idea of what he was going to say, honestly. He didn't really do much else, and he wasn't exactly in the mood to evaluate his life right then) but was interrupted by food stuffs. He grabbed his glass and moved to the table, sitting down where it didn't look like Malcolm would sit. He took another sip of wine before placing his napkin in his lap and then put a bit of salad and a bit of the vegetables onto his plate.
"I like Italian. And cheese," he said, taking the spoon and serving himself a helping of the main course. He then set it back down, handle facing Malcolm so he didn't have to reach around to grab it. He picked up his fork, used it to get a bit of food, blew on it in anticipation of it being hot, and put it in his mouth, chewing. He swallowed and said, "This is really good. Great even." And he meant it.
“Thanks,” Malcolm said with a prideful grin as he filled his own plate, glad to have pleased Jamie at least some. That’s what dates were about, weren’t they? About impressing the other person and finding out more about them. Which Malcolm was lacking on. “There’s afters too. But you don’t have to rush or anything.” Ugh, be stupider Malcolm, really.
“Um, so, is there anything I should know about you? You’re not secretly an assassin, are you?” Ugh, so not a way to be smarter, but it was an ice-breaker, since Malcolm had done most of the talking before…
Jamie chewed another bite, thinking for a moment. "No, definitely not an assassin. But, if I was, I wouldn't tell you," he said, smirking a little, taking a sip to wash down the food. "As for anything you should know? Uhm, I'm really bad at these getting to know you conversations? I never know what to say or what to ask, and then I wonder if I'm not making people feel like I'm conducting an interrogation, but sometimes the only thing I can think of to say or ask is their favourite colour or book or how old they are or something." He poked at his food before taking another bite, mostly to keep himself from going on and sounding a bit like a whiner.
“I suppose I’ll have to keep that in mind then,” Malcolm returned the smirk, feeling a little better at borderline-flirty banter. He didn’t want to push it too far, though. “Yeah they’re kind of awkward, aren’t they?” Malcolm agreed with Jamie’s statement, taking a drink of wine and nodding a little. “They have books on ‘dinner conversations’ and the like, but they were weird questions like ‘if you were stuck on an island and could bring three items with you, what would they be?’ and ‘name your three favorite songs’. I suppose they’re supposed to elicit answers that reveal stuff about the other person, but they’re just kind of weird.”
Malcolm shrugged and twirled his glass a little, watching Jamie closely. Merlin was this guy so cute! “Green, but not just any, I like bottle green but not forest. I’m twenty-five and I don’t think I have a favorite book, or well, I don’t think I could pick one. I’ve got a study there,” he pointed over Jamie’s shoulder to the open door on the other side of the living room. “I could probably pick out a few that I enjoy reading more than once, if you wanted.”
Jamie only just kept from choking on his bite of food by having actually not taken it when Malcolm mentioned his age. He took a moment as if to consider his favourite colour and book responses, glancing over his shoulder to look toward the study. "Maybe after dessert," he said, nodding and taking the bite. He wasn't sure what else to say as he didn't really know how to react to books on dinner conversation or the fact that Malcolm was twenty-five--two years older than his oldest brother. He chewed and swallowed as he thought.
"I think blue or white would be my favourite colour, I don't really have a favourite book, and I'm almost twenty." He shoveled a big bite of salad in his mouth as he hurriedly said the last part, studying his vegetables as he chewed. He suddenly felt extremely young and just a bit stupid.
Malcolm didn’t note any difference in Jamie’s demeanor, which was probably for the best – he knew Jamie was young, he looked it of course, but to Malcolm that didn’t matter. “Blue and white would look good on you,” he said in a complimentary tone, trying to contain his giddiness about ‘after dessert’. He’d promised no touching or kissing, but the aim was to keep Jamie interested, yes?
“What house were you in at Hogwarts? I was a Gryffindor, the lot of us were,” he said, meaning all of his brothers.
"Thank you," he mumbled, not sure how else to react to the compliment in any other way. Jamie then dished out a bit more vegetables for himself and said, "I was a Ravenclaw. My sister's a Gryffindor, and my brothers were in Hufflepuff and Slytherin respectively. There was one of us in each House." And he liked that as he didn't really have to live up to his brothers nearly so much since he wasn't in the same house as either of them.
"Do you normally cook and eat in or go out?" he asked after a moment, trying to make conversation. He knew Malcolm came into the Leaky quite regularly, and it made him wonder if it wasn't a new trend or something with him.
“That’s really cool! Man, I bet McGonagall would’ve like that if some of us had ended up in other houses, we, and by that I mean my brothers, were a bit of a pain in school. Rowdy, you know? But your sister is still in school? That’s cool too.”
Malcolm ducked his head, blushing a little because he was embarrassed at his answer to Jamie’s question, but after a moment looked up and caught Jamie’s gaze, “I generally cook for myself, or my best mate or brothers if they come over. But recently I’ve taken to eating at the Leaky, because there happens to be this really cute bloke I’ve taken a fancy to.”
"Oh." Jamie looked down at his plate a moment, unsure what to say or do next. Part of him had sort of figured that out before Malcolm had said it He took another bite of his food, slowly chewing before washing it down with his wine. He licked his lips, and then finally looked back over at Malcolm.
"It's Paul, isn't it? He's got that whole tall, dark, and mysterious thing going for him. Helps he's got an Italian accent, too. His section's always full of gooey-eyes," he said. He nodded and took another bite. He sounded serious, but he was joking. Everything he said had been fact, of course, but he still meant it as a joke in relation to Malcolm.
Malcolm snorted at the joke and shook his head a little, "Actually, it’s Tom. I have a thing for the hunched, bald and toothless," he smirked back, glad the pause wasn’t a bad one. He metaphorically on the edge of his seat with Jamie, not wanting to scare him off, but at the same time, wanting to get a little closer and to get to know him.
He grabbed the bottle of wine and offered it to Jamie, “Do you want some more?”
"You'll have to get in line for Tom, or so I hear," Jamie replied before nodding. "Yeah. Thanks," he said, picking up his wine glass and moving it over for Malcolm to refill. He had to admit the night wasn't bad, though it was definitely strange to be on a date with bloke, especially at that bloke's flat.
