Get In, Loser, We're Going Shopping

[Gregory White]

Gregory was trying to stop talking to Keevan's brothers, he really was. His employer had warned him off them several times, but he was like a dog to a bone (or a lion to a hare) in his desperation for human contact. It was not as though he was a particularly bad influence, or inclined to share any details of the riots between him and Keevan. He just wanted someone to talk to, and Lucan was always up for chat if neither of them were working. Greg headed towards the library, where he could usually find the youngest White brother haunting a corner. Sometimes they didn't even speak: he might just put on a record, and the two would read in silence, Greg just happy to be in the presence of someone he wasn't paid to be with.
He looked down at himself a little guiltily when he realised that he was tracking wood chips down the servant's hall. Greg took a detour up the stairs towards his room, stopped to change his clothes, then meandered his way back to his previous destination. To even the least discerning eye, his clothes had barely changed from working ones to home digs. They were clean, at least, but Greg's t-shirt was at least ten years old. It had once been green; probably. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone shopping for anything, especially not clothes. His jeans were worse. They were practically shorts, the way the knees hung by their threads. Clothes were not on his mind, though, only his friend. He did secretly think of Lucan as his friend, even though they'd only spoken a handful of times. That was the nature of the man; everyone was Gregory's friend unless proven otherwise.

He turned the corner, and poked his head through the open archway to see if, on the off chance that Keevan was down there, he'd have to hide. The coast was clear. Only Lucan was occupying his usual corner, and Gregory beamed to himself and padded over, barefoot, to seat himself on a chaise at an unobtrusive four feet away.
"Afternoon," he greeted the youngest White genially, then crossed his legs underneath himself to settle down into a good book. The brief silence broke in less than a minute when, with a comical 'rrrrrrrrrrip!', the left leg of Gregory's jeans finally separated themselves from the main trouser seat. Greg uncrossed his legs in surprise, and the jeans leg fell to the floor with a very final 'flop'.
"Shoot."
He muttered an apology to Lucan for disturbing him, and set to work digging out his wand so that he could repair the leg (for the fifth time). Maybe it was time to retire these pants, after all.​

 

[Lucan White]

Bide and beckon, tarnished hope,

Save and stricken, embers broke.

Lucan placed, or rather flung, his quill down against the parchment, using his freed up hand to press a thumb into his temple. It was a subtle gesture of frustration, as though an irritating noise had wormed itself into his brain and was refusing to let him think. In fact, there was a noise filling the halls of the White manor that Summer afternoon, but it would certainly not have been described by most as 'irritating'. It was silence. A deafening, roaring silence, which was only periodically interrupted by the soft scratching of Lucan's quill. But as the sun had risen higher in the mid-day sky, these precious moments had become fewer and further between, until Lucan's head felt all but ready to explode. It was too hot, and without the distraction of Keevan's mundane jobs to complete, there was little the youngest White could do to ignore it.

Lucan picked up his quill and absent-mindedly poked the feathered end in his mouth. As much as Keevan had so desperately needed a day off, Lucan was starting to regret encouraging him to take one. Still, it would do his brother good. That man had been riled up over something all week, though he had (with a few unprintable words) refused to elaborate on 'Bad business'. It must have been incredibly bad to cause him to shout at the gardener, of all people, but Lucan had refrained from commenting. The final straw had been Keevan falling asleep in his office, face pressed against a pile of paperwork which covered his usually meticulously well organised desk. He needed a break; at whatever the expense to Lucan's comfort.

Even out of the corner of his eye, Lucan could recognize those wild curls immediately. The small man's face broke out into a smile, which was mirrored by Gregory's own. It had taken a little while for Lucan to refer to the man as 'Gregory', rather than 'The Gardener', but barring the odd slip up, he had finally managed to break the habit. "'Ello," Lucan replied cheerfully through a mouthful of feather, grateful for the company and break in silence. The two men did not converse (Keevan's terms, probably), but sat quietly in each other's presence for a little while. Before too long, though, a noise quite literally tore through the room. Lucan glanced up from his parchment and stifled a giggle behind his quill. "How long have you had those things? I haven't seen trousers like those since the twenty-twenties!" Lucan said, poking gentle fun at the man he considered his only friend besides his brothers.

 

[Gregory White]

Gregory pouted a little at being told how old his trousers were. It wasn't even a guess; it was a plain fact. He couldn't even pretend to be cross at Lucan for long because he was hiding the cutest face of amusement behind his quill. Greg fumbled with the halved trousers, trying to drag them back over his foot so he could stitch it up, but he gave up soon enough and threw them dramatically across the room.
"You're right!" he exclaimed, folding his arms across his chest in the picture of a sulk. He was hamming it up for Lucan's sake. That smile of his brightened up the lowly gardener's day. Gregory sobered a little as he considered his conundrum. A legitimate problem began to emerge in his mind. The jeans were gonners, yes, which meant that he had to buy more. The rest of his pants were in no better state, which then meant that he'd be replacing his entire wardrobe, essentially. There was no way that he'd be able to accomplish that when forbidden to leave the manor. Getting a tailor in would be worse, because he'd be bringing a stranger into the house, as well as having contacted the outside without Keevan's permission. Well, he could get Keevan's permission ... One resurfacing memory of his employer's face this morning when he'd turned up late for breakfast vetoed that idea quite quickly.
Greg Accioed the discarded trouser leg sadly. It wasn't going to last another stitch, so there was only one option left to him, and it was rather embarrassing.
"Lucan?" asked the gardener, twisting the denim in his hands fretfully. "This is an awfully impertinent question, I know, but I'm afraid these trousers aren't going to last another patch job. Would you mind terribly if I borrowed a pair of yours? I think we're of a height, give or take a few inches."
Well, wasn't this absolutely mortifying. Maybe he'd think that he couldn't afford them. He certainly dressed like it. No, Lucan would know exactly what his wages were, that was half his job.
"It's not urgent!" Gregory reassured him. "Merlin knows I've got enough pants, besides ... They all just look like this," he laughed. "I'd go out, but I've no idea what to replace them with, and I'm always so busy." The first point was true, but he was really pushing it with the second. He certainly had time off. If he didn't, he wouldn't be sitting there having this conversation.​

 

[Lucan White]

Lucan clutched at the last remnants of seriousness left in him, but they were quickly slipping through his grasp. Internally, he was doubled over in more stitches than were left in poor Gregory's trousers. He watched the leg piece with pale blue eyes as it flew dramatically through the air, landing in a heap on the carpeted floor, before returning his attention to its disgruntled owner. Lucan, who was currently sporting a beige shirt (sleeves cuffed up to his elbows), grey waistcoat, and dark blue jeans, could sadly not claim ignorance to Gregory's questionable dress sense. If, that was, he had one at all. In his several months of residency in the White manor, Lucan had yet to see his friend wear anything that even remotely complimented his figure. Which was a shame, given that under the right circumstances, Lucan might have said Gregory had a fair bit to flaunt.

After the amusement of the situation had settled, Lucan pulled himself up in his chair, removing a stray piece of feather from the end of his tongue. His eyebrows raised at the mention of an impertinent question, though what followed took him by such surprise that he burst into another round of laughter. At the site of Greg's solemn expression, however, his face dropped. "Wait.. Really? Oh, um, well..." Lucan cleared his throat loudly, as though it might have somehow disguised his blatant amusement as a coughing fit. "You could, but one pair won't do you much good," He said, twisting his quill this way and that between his finger and thumb in thought. "You've got some time off now though, haven't you?" Lucan asked, although there was a rhetorical air about it. It was less a question, more a suggestion that he put his afternoon to good use and go shopping. But a quick glance at the sad, denim leg piece in his hands prompted Lucan's attention to the first point he'd made. He lifted a hand to scratch his chin, contemplating nervously for a moment. It had been months since Lucan had left home without the safety of his wife or brothers, and even that occasion had been under involuntary circumstance. Still, the thought of spending more time with Greg made Lucan's eyes visibly light up, and so he pushed his trepidation behind him. "If I go with you, I could help you choose some things to wear!" He beamed brightly, hoping that his offer would not be declined or perceived as rude. Keevan would certainly never have accepted such an invitation.

 

[Gregory White]

Gregory was starting to feel a little green around the gills. Lucan was right, of course. One pair of pants wouldn't do at all. He could always order clothes to the Manor, but he had no idea what his size was. The tags had fallen off everything he owned long ago. Even if he guessed, they could be ill-fitting, and no matter how abysmally simple his clothes sense might be, he wouldn't be able to wear anything too loose or too tight.
Greg watched Lucan beadily for a moment, miffed that he was being laughed at, but he was close to laughing, himself. His head was going nowhere, turning round and around in circles. Should he go, should he not go? Lucan had, after all, just invited him to go shopping, of all things, and he may not get another chance. Perhaps if he was accompanied by his brother, Keevan would not be so angry? Slowly, Gregory began to light up in anticipation. Even though he was going to look at clothes, for Merlin's sake, he was going to leave the manor. It had been months! I'll come back, thought Greg a little guiltily. I'm a man of my word, after all, and we've still not resolved our business until Keevan decides how to go about our plan.

A smile of pure delight began to transform Gregory Yearling's face.

"Could we?" he asked Lucan, already knowing the answer. It would be embarrassing to go hunting for clothes with half a pant leg, but it would be worth it just to see anything other than endless gardens. Their beauty was tarnished by repetitive work and loneliness. "Let's! Now? When shall we go? Is Thursday still late-night shopping? Should I change? No, that would defeat the purpose ... What shops, what centre?". Gregory had leapt to his feet and was hopping a little.​

 

[Lucan White]

Lucan pushed himself as far back into the nook of his armchair as possible. He didn't want to go. Of course he didn't. And even if he had wanted to, it certainly wouldn't have been with Keevan's little brother, as he was known by the majority of the White manor's residency. Lucan stared down into his lap, deeming the question redundant before Greg had even had the chance to answer. The quill came up again, its feathered ends tickling his flushing, pink cheeks. He should have known better than to ask; as far as Lucan could tell, Gregory hadn't left the manor's grounds in months. No, it was really no matter. He knew not to ask in future.

Gregory's question took a moment to sink in. Lucan looked up, slightly startled, but before he could reply was bombarded with at least five other questions. The small man's face lit up with sheer joy. "Slow down!" Lucan said, exasperation lacing his words. He paused to mull over Gregory's most important questions, but quite frankly, he was far too excited to think about details. Merlin, it didn't matter where they were going - Greg wanted to go! Practically bouncing with excitement, Lucan placed his quill and parchment to one side and jumped to his feet. He hadn't felt so energized in weeks. "Well, we've got the whole afternoon off, so we might as well go now!" Lucan smiled an ecstatic smile. "I'll take you where I get me clothes, if you like. You don't need'a change, you can just wear some of the trousers we buy," Lucan gabbled happily, pushing aside the intrusive thoughts that threatened to trample on his delight. Although he doubted they would be going anywhere magic was used, Lucan pocketed his wand for safe keeping. It didn't hurt to be cautious. Speaking of which, Lucan scratched his cheek in mid thought. "I'll just go and tell Keevan where we're going," Lucan said quickly, recalling the last time he had left the manor without first informing his brother of his whereabouts. The memory of that day, as many years ago as it had been, still made Lucan shudder. Until he had experienced a flashback away from his home, Lucan hadn't even stopped to consider why his older brother was so steadfast in his rules. "Back in a sec!" Lucan headed for the doorway of the library, the spring in his step only ever so slightly quelled.

 

[Gregory White]

Gregory took courage from Lucan's infectious excitement. He'd been starting to get a bit antsy, shifting from foot to foot in his eagerness, and so he dug himself into his chair and forced himself to sit still. He was not a child, he would sit and be patient for Lucan too voice his assent. They had the whole afternoon to themselves. Hopefully they would be done shopping in the blink of an eye, so that they could visit a cafe or go to the park! He was delighted to find Lucan just as thrilled as he was, and he clasped his hands together to stop them trembling. Calm down, Greg, it's just shopping, you fool, he thought to himself.

His excitement didn't last long when his friend crushed his hopes with one, carefree sentence. It was sheer, adulterated panic that made Gregory scrambled after the youngest White. He hadn't even reached the door when Greg clasped his arm, almost dragging him away from the door. Mortified, the Yearling brother stumbled back, putting his hands in his pockets and tried not to show his fear.
"Lucan! I, I just had a thought!" he gabbled. "Let's not tell Mr White that we're going so that we can surprise him with a gift when we come back." There, that was halfway understandable. Okay, no it wasn't; he had absolutely no reason to go about buying Keevan White gifts. Lucan would likely think that he was trying to court his older brother. Gregory began to blush at the mere thought. He was going redder by the second, just imagining what his friend was thinking. If anything, his blush was just cementing the misinterpreted excuse. Well, letting Lucan think that he fancies Keevan served his purposes, however mortifying. Greg pressed cold hands to his hot cheeks, trying to cool them.
"I'm sorry, that was forward of me. Let's just go and have a good time, alright? We'll be back before supper." Hopefully Lucan wouldn't read much further into it in his eagerness to go. He ought to remember to pick up something nice for Keevan, now.

They reached the manor gates not long afterwards, with Gregory trying to keep his shaking under control. It was a mix of fear, apprehension and exhilaration. Every few steps, he'd glance back at the house, watching the windows for a familiar face and ducking his head at the rustle of every curtain. He took Lucan's arm, breathing slowly and, finally, apparating away with a rush of magic.
Napier had a large community of wizarding folk, as well as plenty of magical shops hidden amongst the various muggle outlets. They were sure to find everything they might need. When they appeared in a designated alcove off the side of witch-owned brewery, Greg immediately poked his head around the corner, trying to see the rest of the town. He hadn't let go of Lucan's arm just yet, and he squeezed it in excitement before releasing his friend.
"We're here!" whispered Gregory to himself, smiling so hard that rarely-seen dimples had appeared on each cheek.​

 

[Lucan White]

Lucan had barely made it to the doorway when a hand grabbed him. Wide-eyed, he spun on his heel, yanking his arm away from Greg's grip in shock. Calm down! Lucan ordered himself, already knowing his efforts were futile. There was a fine line between excitement and fear, and Lucan was teetering precariously on the edge of it. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. In sight of his own fear, he had barely registered the look on Greg's face until the man began to speak. If it hadn't been an obvious gesture of doubt, Lucan might have raised his eyebrows. A gift? For Keevan? Or, as Gregory had so graciously titled him, 'Mr White'. The small, adrenaline fuelled man managed a reassuring smile. Whatever Greg's reason for getting so het up, it wasn't Lucan's place to pry, and he had no intention of doing so. Of course, that meant that Lucan would be sneaking out, but perhaps Greg had a point. If they were back before supper, there was a good chance Keevan wouldn't even notice their absence. "All right, then," Lucan agreed reluctantly after a moment's hesitation, and the pair set on their way.

A whole lot of nervous backward glances (and odd looks from Lucan) later, the men reached Napier. Before they had even left the alcove, Lucan's joyous grin had returned. He squeezed Greg's arm back, both perplexed and delighted at the man's buzzing excitement. "Merlin, Greg, it's just a shopping trip," Lucan said bemusedly, shaking his head, but his grin remained. Truthfully, to have someone other than his brothers accompany him shopping had Lucan overwhelmed with excitement, too. Forgetting any fear he once had, Lucan guided his friend down the paved street. Despite it being a week day, the city was still packed with bustling muggles and noisy cars. One honked loudly at a man who had taken an ill-timed opportunity to cross the busy road. Another's exhaust spluttered and growled in protest of being overworked on such a hot day. Lucan was starting to feel the same.

Within minutes, the wizards had pushed open the glass doors of a large, muggle shopping centre, and were hit with the cool breeze of air conditioning. "That's better," Lucan thought aloud, cuffing up his shirt sleeves where they had fallen to his wrists. He looked around for a moment, before settling his eyes on a shop he was particularly familiar with. "We'll start here," Lucan informed, rather than suggested, heading straight for the shop door.

 

[Gregory White]

Greg looked a little sheepish at being called out on his excitement, but he decided that Lucan was not one to judge, since he had the exact same look on his face. He couldn't know all the circumstances, of course, but perhaps Greg could get away with pretending to be overworked and a little lonely. The first was not true by any means, but the second, well ... Greg pushed those feelings aside. He'd dealt with them before, and there was no point dredging up old hurts when there was shopping to be done!
He was no less excited, but the animagus was starting to feel slightly ill at the amount of people that were shopping that afternoon. He was a wizard that spent as little time amongst smelly muggle machinery as possible, although he liked other aspects of their strange culture. Why did the cars have to be so noisy? Greg had half a mind to charm them into silence, to the befuddlement of their owners. Lucan seemed to be doing better than him, but not by much. He decided, to himself, that they both needed to take shopping trips more often.
They stepped into a (frankly, enormous) shopping centre, and immediately Greg felt that something was off. He followed Lucan doggedly, glancing around and trying to discover what had changed between the street and the mall. It was less smelly with exhaust, and the scent had been replaced with frying food and various perfumes. The wizard had a peculiar look on his face, so blatant that a few muggles looks at him askance as they entered their first outlet.
"Lucan!" said Gregory suddenly, ignoring the clothes for the moment in favour of sharing his revelation. "How are the muggles making it colder?". He got another weird look, and a giggle from a spiky-haired girl with a tiny Ravenclaw pin stuck to her jacket. Greg would have asked further questions, but he was becoming aware of the multitude of trousers, jumpers, shirts, jeans, gloves, scarves and every article of clothing one could think of being displayed in a riot of colour and choices. Too many choices!
"They're all different," he said, aghast. How could they find anything that matched with so much available? Speaking of which ... What if what he thought matched no longer matched? Greg visibly drooped.​

 

[Lucan White]

Not even his familiarity with the shopping centre could calm Lucan's nerves. It was never easy, knowing that there were two sets of doors between them and the exit, but Lucan forced himself to steady his breathing. They weren't here for him - they were here for Greg, who desperately needed to leave the store with at least three bags of new clothes.

A few funny looks were thrown their way as the two men paused in the doorway of the shop. It took Lucan a moment to realise that half of Greg's trouser leg was still missing. He stifled his giggles behind a cough as not to embarrass his friend, but Gregory seemed to be doing a fairly good job of that himself. "It's called air conditioning," Lucan said quietly, glancing around the vicinity for muggles that might overhear them. With his missing trouser leg and bizarre questions, Gregory was beginning to look like he was being escorted for a day out of the hospital. No wonder the muggles' glances had turned sympathetic. "The hot air gets sucked into the evaporator, where it's absorbed by a refrigerant when it gets compressed into gas-" Lucan stopped, hands up in mid demonstration, to blink at Greg. "Never mind," He said quickly, dropping his arms back to his sides and flushing a rather conspicuous shade of pink. Fortunately, Gregory had seemingly become distracted by the vast railings of clothing, which in some places stretched across the entire length of the shop wall.

Lucan smiled nervously, hoping to dodge the topic of where he'd learnt so much about muggle machinery, and tugged gently at Greg's sleeve. "Yeah, but we don't want any of this stuff," Lucan shuffled across the shop floor, his polished black shoes scuffing on the tiles. By the time he had reached the correct section, Lucan's excitement was almost tangible again, and his previous comments were all but forgotten. With well acquainted hands, he began sifting through a rack of long sleeved shirts. He held a couple up to Greg's chest, roughly estimating his size, before draping them across his friend's arms. "Right, jeans," Lucan hurried around a column to where he knew he could find something suitable. He pulled a few pairs of trousers out, ignoring the slightly stomach churning price tags and dumping them on top of Greg's shirts. The pile of clothes in his arms was threatening to touch Greg's chin, and so Lucan took a little sympathy. "Awright, you go try those on, and I'll go and find some shoes."

 

[Gregory White]

Gregory stared politely as Lucan explained air confrizzling to him. It seemed like a complicated process, which muggles seemed to be very good at, but it went right over his head just as well as the cold air did. He smiled encouragingly at his friend, but Lucan dropped the subject anyway, only to continue on to drop clothes onto him. Perhaps he hadn't a very good idea of what would look nice on him yet, which was why they had to try on so many?

Alas, no. Lucan had apparently planned for him to buy the entire shop. Gregory obediently tried on shirt after shirt, pants after pants, shoes after shoes until he had more bags on his arms than he had fingers on his hands. He practically waddled after Lucan, who moved them on from one shop to another as though they were closing. Greg tired of being the gentleman and started handing bags over to his shopping partner. From there, they dragged their bags into a hairdressers, which Lucan insisted upon after Greg got his locks caught in his collar buttons for the third time running. He walked out of the Napier centre a new man. Dusk was falling, and shop were starting to shut.
"Oh!" said Gregory, turning on his heel just as they stepped onto the footpath. He beckoned Lucan back with his elbow and hurried towards one of the last stores still open; a florist. He'd almost forgotten Keevan's present. When they apparated back to the Manor, Greg had a little pot tucked into his new jeans.

Gregory had forgotten all about Keevan, he really had. It was the first time he hadn't thought about his boss for months, which felt like an unhealthy fixation. They were laughing as they walked through the halls, trailing their bags and gossiping like old wives about the sheer amount of stuff they'd bought. They'd made plenty of noise coming in. He was still surprised when they came face to face with Keevan in the kitchen, about to drop their bags on the counter and completely unprepared for the storm that was coming. Greg had already gone pale, and suddenly he desperately needed to have his hands free.​

 

[Keevan White]

Keevan sighed, exhausted, as the last piece of paperwork was filed into its designated cabinet. Then, with a quick flick of his wand, the steel drawer rolled shut with a clunk. At last. Keevan paused for a moment to appreciate the clear expanse of antique mahogany that lay before him. It had been almost a week since the polished surface of his desk had been visible, and with the sorting of all those papers, Keevan felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders. So much for a day off, he thought ruefully. What time was it, anyway? The grumbling sounds emanating from his stomach helped him hazard a guess at six o'clock. Six thirty at the latest. Specifics weren't important; it was time to eat.

With the thought of food in mind, and perhaps a little pleasant conversation with his brothers over the dining table, the spring in Keevan's step returned. He paced out of his office into the carpeted hallway, locking the door behind him. At first, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, but as Keevan traversed the corridor and approached the marble staircase, one of his senses began to feel lacking. He lifted his thin nose to the air, the realisation slowly sinking in. Ah. Every employee of the White manor had been thoughtlessly granted the day off - including the chef. If his feet hadn't been busy navigating the stairs, Keevan could have used them to kick himself. Never mind. He hadn't had the chance to prepare a meal in weeks, and though McKinley was an accomplished chef, Lucan and Regius did tend to favour their brother's home fare.

Thirty minutes later, the kitchen was bursting with a colourful array of aromas. Onion, garlic, beef, oregano - It was any wonder nobody had been in to investigate the source of the smell. The lasagne (or lasagnes, if you counted the vegetarian option) was cooked, and the dining table laid. All that remained to be done was for Keevan to round up his brothers.

He didn't have to go very far.

It was like being doused by a jet of icy cold water. Keevan didn't know what to look at first; Lucan's gleeful grin, the surfeit of overflowing shopping bags, or the pale face of the man who had betrayed just his trust. Again. No, there was something different. Something that, just for a second, made the breath catch in Keevan's throat. But that second had passed, and a familiar fury was beginning to broil in the pit his stomach. "Lucan, go and tell Regius dinner is ready," Keevan said quietly, his piercing blue eyes locked on Greg's. Lucan began to protest, oblivious. "Just go and tell him!" He yelled suddenly, making his little brother jump. Lucan scampered away with such fear that Keevan almost lost his rage to a flood of guilt. No, he could deal with Lucan later. In the mean time, he had some serious bones to pick.

"You..." Keevan had turned back on Gregory with an air of vengeance. Fist clenched shakily around his wand, he flicked his wrist, swinging the door closed. "I suppose you think it's funny," Keevan paused to sweep his gaze across Greg's new outfit and swallow thickly, "To.. To have the audacity to come back here after you leave without my permission!" He turned to face the window, clutching the kitchen counter until his trembling knuckles had turned white. But when he eventually spoke again, his voice was quiet and breathless. "I don't know why you bothered."

 

[Gregory White]

Gregory flinched when Keevan took out his wand, but it was only him shutting the door. The tide of rage had turned upon him and he was swallowed by it, shrinking into himself until it seemed that the other man had grown in size. To his horror, he found himself tearing up, and this time he couldn't hold back. They filled his eyes and overflowed, spilling down his cheeks in a silent cascade. Gregory pressed his lips into a tight line so as to not make a sound, but his face said it all. He was tired of being fearful, tired of being yelled at and tired of hurting when he didn't know why. He was still a man, though, and ashamed for losing himself. Couldn't he have just gotten angry like Keevan did? Greg was angry, oh yes he was, but the little puffs of air kept escaping out of his nose and the tears kept flowing.
The part goblin turned away from the other man, trying to gather himself.
"I don't need your permission," said Greg when he could finally speak. He did not return to face Keevan. "I am a free man, and I chose to return here." Slowly and pained, as though wading through mud, he set his bags on the floor and pulled out something denim from bag carrying the logo of the very first shop they'd entered. He'd withdrawn his tattered denims, half a leg still missing, and he turned back to place it quietly on the counter before Keevan.
"I had to buy clothes," he told him, reaching up to scrub at his face, as though wiping the tears away would mean that he'd never cried. Gregory also withdrew the little potted plant from his pocket, which he placed next to the jeans. On their way up the driveway, he had been laughing with Lucan, and he'd pulled out his wand to charm the little succulent. Now, its short, fat leaves waved in a non existent breeze, swaying happily and without a care. Crumpling again, Greg let out a little sob as he told Keevan, "I bought it for you."​

 

[Keevan White]

Keevan had really gone too far this time. Even he could see that, despite his steadfast efforts to blind himself from Gregory's emotions. He didn't turn around, nor apologise, nor offer him any kind words of comfort. What he did do was tighten his grip on the kitchen counter, until he started to worry he might grow superhuman strength and crush it beneath his fingers.

For what might have been the first time in Keevan's life, words were completely failing him. He stared out of the window at what only moments ago had been a beautiful sunset. By the time he looked away, it had burnt itself into his vision, leaving a mark that wouldn't fade no matter how many times he blinked. And blinked. And blinked.

Without realising it, Keevan was shaking his head in disagreement. In this house, Gregory was not a free man, and he darn well knew it. Yet still, he'd gone behind Keevan's back; betrayed his trust. And now, as if it would somehow make him take pity on him, he was crying. Keevan wasn't angry. He was furious. With gritted teeth, he carefully restrained from barking the obscenities that were gathering on the back of his tongue. It was the chink of terracotta against marble which made him turn at last, thought he tactfully avoided Greg's gaze. The small succulent waved cheerfully in the silence of the kitchen. Mocking him. Keevan lifted his hands from the counter, but his fists remained clenched. How he longed to bring one of them down onto that stupid plant. To smash it into a million, tiny pieces. "Just what in the hell do you think you're playing at, Gregory?" He said finally, when he trusted his voice not to crack. Unfortunately, everything seemed to be hell-bent on betraying his trust as of late.

Keevan was at a complete loss. Where did they go from here? Gregory had come back, but it was the intent, the carelessness behind his actions which riled him to no end. Hadn't Keevan kept his side of the deal? Justifying the legitimisation of Decado to a disgruntled Ainsley and McCarrick had hardly been a bundle of laughs. He'd put them both out of jobs, amongst others. All Gregory had to do was stay within the grounds of the White manor until things blew over, and he couldn't even manage that. "I'll owl Rodeau. We're making the unbreakable vow. Tomorrow." It wasn't a suggestion. It was a promise, and it was filled with malicious conviction. "Now get out of my sight before I say something I'll regret."

Note to anyone who followed the plot this far: There is no admin approval at the mention of this vow for reasons that will be revealed later. I have verified it with Cyndi!

 

[Gregory White]

Everything that he saw had a sheen like glass to it. The vision of his potted plant wavered and swayed with the leaves through the veil of tears. Gregory longed to flee, to obey that cruel voice and retreat to his room and never emerge again, but movement was just as difficult as it was before. He pulled out his wand benignly like an old man, and banished away the shopping bags to the cupboards upstairs. The plant stayed cheerful, and even he longed to smash it against the counter so it would stop living, and being happy. Instead, Gregory took it carefully in his palm, and left the kitchen.

As soon as he opened the door, he saw Lucan's retreating back, which made his face crumple all over again. The poor man was shy at the best of times, and it was him who'd caused his fear and confusion. How dare Keevan take it out on his gentle brother for being nothing but a witness to Greg's so called 'betrayal'? It was bad enough, that this cycle of paranoia and rage permeated every interaction he and Keevan had, but now they'd hurt others by lashing out. Gregory pushed the door shut behind him, and it slammed with an echo that shook the first floor. He turned, and noted the splinters of the ruined wood.
"Sh*t," muttered Greg, turning his wand on it and Reparo'ing the damage. He was usually much better at controlling his strength. Keevan would be even angrier, but let him. Just thinking about that handsome face twisted with rage made the pit of his stomach balk again. Gregory snapped out of his lethargy and fled, skipping stairs two at a time and running as fast as he could towards the only safe haven he had left.

He was panting like a buffalo when he shut his bedroom door behind him. His bedroom, Greg wondered to himself. Not for long. If Keevan was serious about the Unbreakable Vow, he would soon be out of this house, bound forever to a man he would never see again. He managed to set down the succulent before he flopped onto the bed, and Gregory wept like a child for the rest of that long night.​

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Finis​