FICLET: Poker Face (Michael&Terry)
Title: Poker Face
Prompt: "the other dumb chump"
Characters: Michael & Terry (platonic), Daphne Greengrass, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbot, Seamus Finnigan
Rating: PG/PG-13 - light cursing, alcohol
Word Count: ~1,050
Prompt Table: Say what?
Summary: High stakes. Booze. A mexican stand off even Seamus can't break. Daphne plays detective.
Author's Note: Post DH sometime. Have been craving a good game of Texas Hold 'Em, and I guess that got subconsciously diverted into a card-game-fic. haha. (That and I've had that stupidly catchy Lady Ga Ga song stuck in my head for weeks.)
Silence.
Daphne looked from Michael to Terry and back again. Neither man moved so much as a muscle, their hands poised protectively over their cards and their eyes locked across the table. She could sense all kinds of wheels and gears turning and clinking around inside their heads, and wondered not for the first time this evening just what was going on behind those foreheads. A glance at Hannah-brow furrowed and lips parted slackly-told Daphne she wasn’t the only one who wanted to know.
“Are they still bloody staring at each other?” Seamus bellowed from the kitchen.
“Yeah-looks like it’ll be a while too. You might want to bring us all a Firewhiskey while we wait,” Daphne sighed. She set her cards onto the tabletop and pushed back in her chair.
“None for me,” Hannah brushed.
“Two for me!” Ernie hollered as he kicked his heels onto the table.
Seamus grunted some form of acknowledgment from the other room. Daphne could hear him knocking things over in the fridge, and glanced in delight at Terry when she heard something crash to the ground accompanied by a harrowed “Oops!”.
“Terry, I think Seamus just broke something in your kitchen,” Daphne prompted.
“-Hope that blue plate with the flowers on it wasn’t important, mate!” Seamus shouted.
Daphne squinted at Terry, a slight smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. She was waiting for his inner perfectionist and deep aching for all-things-tidy to kick in. But, alas, no response. His face remained blank as a slate.
Hannah leaned over the table and cast two quick glances at the immobile Ravenclaws. “That’s amazing. They haven’t moved a bit. Barely blinked.”
"Break something else!" Ernie shouted.
Two loud smashes followed.
“Oh bugger, there go your drinks, Ern!”
“Oye! No fair!”
Daphne and Hannah both leaned instinctively toward Terry and Michael.
“That’s going to create a huge puddle,” Daphne goaded into Terry’s ear. “And Merlin, will it be sticky.”
Hannah giggled.
“Whole flat will smell like alcohol for days,” Ernie interjected lazily, “That stuff’s strong as all hell.”
The three paused, all eyes on Terry. Seamus had emerged from the kitchen with an armful of Firewhiskey and his wand clenched between his teeth but halted when he reached the table to stare down at the two of them.
When nothing happened Ernie sighed and threw his hand of cards into the middle of the table. “That’s it, I fold. If Terry’s not even responding to a giant Firewhiskey puddle in the middle of his kitchen, on top of what I’m sure are the shards of some fancy, expensive plate, then he must have a damn good hand.”
“Agreed,” Hannah echoed and tossed her cards as well.
“I don’t understand these two,” Daphne grumbled. “No wonder Anthony said he was too busy to play tonight. Bloody hell, if I’d known this was how-“
“I’m all in,” Michael interrupted, and all parties at the table jumped four feet out of their seats. Daphne was halted mid sentence, and Seamus almost dropped another bottle-this time Terry shot him a very fiery glare before rounding on Michael. “Deal.” They pushed their pots forward.
“I fold!” Seamus and Daphne crowed in unison.
Ernie raised both eyebrows at Michael. “You’re crazy.”
Michael simply smiled. Daphne had seen that smile before. It reminded her of the sort of smile she’d seen on Malfoy’s face in the Common Room when he talked about ruining Potter’s life. It was also the same smile she’d seen on Astoria’s face when she talked about her engagement to Malfoy.
She was pretty sure it was the kind of smile dragons gave goats right before they ate them.
“Well, let’s see your hands, then,” Seamus barked impatiently.
Terry and Michael hesitated. Terry’s chin lifted a centimeter and he straightened his back. He was the first to lay down his cards.
Full house-kings full of aces.
Ernie whistled.
Michael’s grin widened (into less of a grin, really, than the shape of the mouth as the dragon sticks the goat’s head right between its teeth, Daphne noted). His cards snapped onto the table.
“Royal flush,” he declared with a flourish.
Terry sat, frozen, as the rest of the table burst into a cacophony of awe and wonder.
When things finally did settle down and Hannah was able to get Ernie to stop hooting like an overexcited owl, Terry’s head was the first thing to collide with the table. He lifted it after a moment, but only to thump it back down seconds later.
Michael stood up to gather the giant pot of colorful chips toward him. “Always a pleasure playing with you, Ter. Now I can take that vacation to Bermuda like I always wanted. Thanks, mate.”
Terry groaned emphatically into the table just before slamming his head against it again.
Michael took care to start arranging his amassment of chips into very careful and none-to-discreet stacks directly in front of him and, coincidentally, Terry’s line of vision. He’d pulled himself a Firewhiskey from Seamus in the process and was sucking merrily at the bottleneck, humming.
Hannah began to rub Terry’s back soothingly. “S’alright, Terry. There’s-er-always next time…”
Daphne just watched Michael. He had resumed his usual aloof smirking-to himself, no doubt-and was also managing to ignore everyone else present, because in Michael-World they didn’t really matter all-too-much anyway, now that he’d taken all their money. She narrowed her eyes at him. “How’d you know?”
He didn’t bother to look at her. “Terry may have a good poker face, but it’s not that good.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked up with an evil twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, come on. I’ve known Terry for how many years now? If the man doesn’t even react to his mother’s serving platter shattering, or a giant, sticky mess of Firewhiskey mucking up his tiles, then he’s trying way too hard to prove something.”
Terry gurgled out an almost pained, distressed sort of moan and covered his ears with his hands at the mention of the mess in his kitchen.
Daphne shook her head and leaned back in her chair. Maybe she didn’t want to know what went on behind those foreheads after all. She was beginning to realize that Michael and Terry were much more interesting when they weren’t talking-or, in Terry’s current case, sobbing.
Hannah frowned a little bit to herself and Daphne knew that, once again, they were in accord.
Prompt: "the other dumb chump"
Characters: Michael & Terry (platonic), Daphne Greengrass, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbot, Seamus Finnigan
Rating: PG/PG-13 - light cursing, alcohol
Word Count: ~1,050
Prompt Table: Say what?
Summary: High stakes. Booze. A mexican stand off even Seamus can't break. Daphne plays detective.
Author's Note: Post DH sometime. Have been craving a good game of Texas Hold 'Em, and I guess that got subconsciously diverted into a card-game-fic. haha. (That and I've had that stupidly catchy Lady Ga Ga song stuck in my head for weeks.)
Silence.
Daphne looked from Michael to Terry and back again. Neither man moved so much as a muscle, their hands poised protectively over their cards and their eyes locked across the table. She could sense all kinds of wheels and gears turning and clinking around inside their heads, and wondered not for the first time this evening just what was going on behind those foreheads. A glance at Hannah-brow furrowed and lips parted slackly-told Daphne she wasn’t the only one who wanted to know.
“Are they still bloody staring at each other?” Seamus bellowed from the kitchen.
“Yeah-looks like it’ll be a while too. You might want to bring us all a Firewhiskey while we wait,” Daphne sighed. She set her cards onto the tabletop and pushed back in her chair.
“None for me,” Hannah brushed.
“Two for me!” Ernie hollered as he kicked his heels onto the table.
Seamus grunted some form of acknowledgment from the other room. Daphne could hear him knocking things over in the fridge, and glanced in delight at Terry when she heard something crash to the ground accompanied by a harrowed “Oops!”.
“Terry, I think Seamus just broke something in your kitchen,” Daphne prompted.
“-Hope that blue plate with the flowers on it wasn’t important, mate!” Seamus shouted.
Daphne squinted at Terry, a slight smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. She was waiting for his inner perfectionist and deep aching for all-things-tidy to kick in. But, alas, no response. His face remained blank as a slate.
Hannah leaned over the table and cast two quick glances at the immobile Ravenclaws. “That’s amazing. They haven’t moved a bit. Barely blinked.”
"Break something else!" Ernie shouted.
Two loud smashes followed.
“Oh bugger, there go your drinks, Ern!”
“Oye! No fair!”
Daphne and Hannah both leaned instinctively toward Terry and Michael.
“That’s going to create a huge puddle,” Daphne goaded into Terry’s ear. “And Merlin, will it be sticky.”
Hannah giggled.
“Whole flat will smell like alcohol for days,” Ernie interjected lazily, “That stuff’s strong as all hell.”
The three paused, all eyes on Terry. Seamus had emerged from the kitchen with an armful of Firewhiskey and his wand clenched between his teeth but halted when he reached the table to stare down at the two of them.
When nothing happened Ernie sighed and threw his hand of cards into the middle of the table. “That’s it, I fold. If Terry’s not even responding to a giant Firewhiskey puddle in the middle of his kitchen, on top of what I’m sure are the shards of some fancy, expensive plate, then he must have a damn good hand.”
“Agreed,” Hannah echoed and tossed her cards as well.
“I don’t understand these two,” Daphne grumbled. “No wonder Anthony said he was too busy to play tonight. Bloody hell, if I’d known this was how-“
“I’m all in,” Michael interrupted, and all parties at the table jumped four feet out of their seats. Daphne was halted mid sentence, and Seamus almost dropped another bottle-this time Terry shot him a very fiery glare before rounding on Michael. “Deal.” They pushed their pots forward.
“I fold!” Seamus and Daphne crowed in unison.
Ernie raised both eyebrows at Michael. “You’re crazy.”
Michael simply smiled. Daphne had seen that smile before. It reminded her of the sort of smile she’d seen on Malfoy’s face in the Common Room when he talked about ruining Potter’s life. It was also the same smile she’d seen on Astoria’s face when she talked about her engagement to Malfoy.
She was pretty sure it was the kind of smile dragons gave goats right before they ate them.
“Well, let’s see your hands, then,” Seamus barked impatiently.
Terry and Michael hesitated. Terry’s chin lifted a centimeter and he straightened his back. He was the first to lay down his cards.
Full house-kings full of aces.
Ernie whistled.
Michael’s grin widened (into less of a grin, really, than the shape of the mouth as the dragon sticks the goat’s head right between its teeth, Daphne noted). His cards snapped onto the table.
“Royal flush,” he declared with a flourish.
Terry sat, frozen, as the rest of the table burst into a cacophony of awe and wonder.
When things finally did settle down and Hannah was able to get Ernie to stop hooting like an overexcited owl, Terry’s head was the first thing to collide with the table. He lifted it after a moment, but only to thump it back down seconds later.
Michael stood up to gather the giant pot of colorful chips toward him. “Always a pleasure playing with you, Ter. Now I can take that vacation to Bermuda like I always wanted. Thanks, mate.”
Terry groaned emphatically into the table just before slamming his head against it again.
Michael took care to start arranging his amassment of chips into very careful and none-to-discreet stacks directly in front of him and, coincidentally, Terry’s line of vision. He’d pulled himself a Firewhiskey from Seamus in the process and was sucking merrily at the bottleneck, humming.
Hannah began to rub Terry’s back soothingly. “S’alright, Terry. There’s-er-always next time…”
Daphne just watched Michael. He had resumed his usual aloof smirking-to himself, no doubt-and was also managing to ignore everyone else present, because in Michael-World they didn’t really matter all-too-much anyway, now that he’d taken all their money. She narrowed her eyes at him. “How’d you know?”
He didn’t bother to look at her. “Terry may have a good poker face, but it’s not that good.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked up with an evil twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, come on. I’ve known Terry for how many years now? If the man doesn’t even react to his mother’s serving platter shattering, or a giant, sticky mess of Firewhiskey mucking up his tiles, then he’s trying way too hard to prove something.”
Terry gurgled out an almost pained, distressed sort of moan and covered his ears with his hands at the mention of the mess in his kitchen.
Daphne shook her head and leaned back in her chair. Maybe she didn’t want to know what went on behind those foreheads after all. She was beginning to realize that Michael and Terry were much more interesting when they weren’t talking-or, in Terry’s current case, sobbing.
Hannah frowned a little bit to herself and Daphne knew that, once again, they were in accord.