George wasn't a nervous person. He'd always been good at taking things as they came, laid back and entirely nonchalant to a fault. Whether it was a test, a date, or a big important even of some kind, anxiety had never been something that plagued him.
But today? George was nervous. Nervous enough to actually hesitate between outfits, to spend more than ten seconds working some kind of sense into his hair, to actually spend a few minutes pacing up and down his room. Pacing, for fuck's sake.
"What do you mean, 'am I ready yet'?" he called from the kitchen (where he may or may not having been sneaking the always-handy bottle of Firewhiskey back into the cabinet, having perhaps maybe snuck a shot to steady those unfamiliar nerves), forcefully working some teasing lightness into his voice. "I've been ready, I'm waiting on you, woman!"
This was going to be weird. Strange. Awkward. Looking back, Roger wasn't sure how they'd decided this was a good idea or why. However it had happened, he definitely found himself wishing he'd conveniently had some extremely pressing to do. Like a late practice, a match out of no where, or a sick kid. Something.
Too late now, though. He was here and probably underdressed. Too late now. He'd been half an anxiety attack away from owling Maeve to come oversee his clothing options. He was a professional Quidditch star for Merlin's sake! He'd been exposed to crazy fans and huge crowds. One date shouldn't be such a mess.
He just hoped he could rally enough to not be an embarrassment to Lavender or himself as he knocked on the door.
This was a terrible bloody idea. It was bonkers, really. How on Earth were the four of them going to manage to have a nice evening with the baggage they were all carrying? But then, this was all her fault, wasn't it? She had been trying to be nice- trying to figure out how to make friends with Lavender. The idea of a double date had just spilled from her mouth before she really thought it through.
But then, that had been happening a lot ever since she met George.
So, here she was, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, head down, as she moved down the hallway. She reached George's flat just as she spotted Roger knocking on the door.
Right on time.
"Hi-" she said, not trying to be short but not quite knowing what else to say.
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But today? George was nervous. Nervous enough to actually hesitate between outfits, to spend more than ten seconds working some kind of sense into his hair, to actually spend a few minutes pacing up and down his room. Pacing, for fuck's sake.
"What do you mean, 'am I ready yet'?" he called from the kitchen (where he may or may not having been sneaking the always-handy bottle of Firewhiskey back into the cabinet, having perhaps maybe snuck a shot to steady those unfamiliar nerves), forcefully working some teasing lightness into his voice. "I've been ready, I'm waiting on you, woman!"
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Too late now, though. He was here and probably underdressed. Too late now. He'd been half an anxiety attack away from owling Maeve to come oversee his clothing options. He was a professional Quidditch star for Merlin's sake! He'd been exposed to crazy fans and huge crowds. One date shouldn't be such a mess.
He just hoped he could rally enough to not be an embarrassment to Lavender or himself as he knocked on the door.
Reply
But then, that had been happening a lot ever since she met George.
So, here she was, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, head down, as she moved down the hallway. She reached George's flat just as she spotted Roger knocking on the door.
Right on time.
"Hi-" she said, not trying to be short but not quite knowing what else to say.
Reply
"Don't even try to play that off, Weasley!" she called over to him, "I wasn't the one to use up the hot water!"
Then came the knock. She prayed that Roger arrived first. At least then she wouldn't have to play the third wheel again, not even for a minute.
But when she opened the door they were both standing there. Neither of them looked particularly excited either.
"Hey, come in…" she said quickly, stepping aside. "George is in the kitchen."
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