![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
der_jemand posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
120_minutenChallenge: 2. "Man kann nicht immer alles haben was man sich wünscht."
3. Familienkrise / Beziehungskrise an den Feiertagen
Fandom: Harry Potter
Charaktere: Charlie Weasley/Oliver Wood, Fleur Delacour, assorted Weasleys
Wörter: ~ 1300
Warnung: RomCom AU, WEIHNACHTSKITSCH
A/N: Das Krokodil-AU lässt mir keine Ruhe. Nicht dass es wichtig wäre, das zu wissen. Charlie ist unfähig, hat issues und hat wegen eben diesen nach einer kurzen Beziehung mit Oliver, den er natürlich seiner Familie vorgestellt hatte, Schluss gemacht. - Jetzt ist Weihnachten.
Fun Fact: Das sollte nur eine einleitende Szene für den Austausch von Geschenken werden.
When Charlie stumbled down the stairs on Christmas morning, the whole house was already filled with the smell of freshly baked biscuits and freshly fried bacon, the clanking of of crockery and animated chatter. Despite the fact that only four out of seven Weasley children were present it was almost as loud as Charlie remembered his childhood days. The fact that the missing sons had been effortlessly replaced with a wife, a girlfriend and a fiancé probably helped.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!”, piped Ginny from the kitchen table. Harry, the fiancé-slash-Ron's best friend, at least had the good grace to offer a mug of tea with his overly cheerful greeting. Fleur and Bill were leaning against the counter, each nursing a coffee, each smiling affectionately. Charlie so wasn’t awake enough for those two.
His mother pressed a kiss to his cheek and a platter of eggs into his hands. Gratefully, Charlie returned the kiss and sat down between his father and Hermione. “When are the twins going to arrive?”
“Tomorrow. George’s still at Angelina’s and Fred-” Ron gave a little cough, “is busy at the store, because this isn’t a bank holiday or anything...” He added an exaggerated eye roll, just because he could.
“Traitor,” Charlie declared and ducked away under Bill’s playful swat with practiced ease. “Hey, it’s not my fault you lot are so nicely paired up! I need Fred to wallow in self-pity with!”
“About that, dear,” His mother smiled up from the umpteenth tray of biscuits that was being shoved into the oven. “I’ve been talking to Amos Diggory and you know, his son is a good-looking lad.”
“Mum!” Charlie didn’t even know where to start. “Cedric is… what, Ginny’s age? He’s practically a child!”
“Oy!”
“And, also you don’t need to set me up with every gay bloke you find. Is Cedric even gay?”
“Well, he is dating a woman”, Ron mentioned around a mouthful of toast. “So there’s that.”
“And he’s not that young. Four years older than me, just like Fleur”, Ginny added with the acrid smile that was reserved for stings at her sister in law. Unfortunately, she was just as good as Charlie at avoiding Bill’s disciplinary swats.
Charlie rolled his eyes. “So, not a child, not single and probably not gay. Think I’ll pass, mum.”
“I’m just trying to look out for you,” his mother answered cooly.
Charlie snorted. “By trying to get me laid?! Unconventional, mum, but appreciated.”
“Oh, get your head out of your arse, Char!”
“What about it, Bill?!” Intellectually, Charlie knew this wasn't a conversation to get into on Christmas morning or at the breakfast table with his family or ever, really, but little details like that had never stopped him. “I'm not going to marry some bloke and have his athletic, Scottish babies, that's not how that works!”
“Char…”
“No! If we're really lucky I'll settle for a lovely girl one day but I also stopped believing in Santa Clause quite a while ago!” There was more he wanted, needed to say, possibly involving divorce and buggering off to Sri Lanka, but Bill's hand tightly squeezing his shoulder stopped him.
His father looked up from the paper he'd been reading with a quizzical look at that. “How is Oliver, by the way?”
“Not here now, is he?!”
“Naturally, I would expect him to be in Glasgow with his family, obviously…” His father trailed off after being swatted by Bill. Charlie just shoved a fork full of eggs and bacon into his mouth and started chewing viciously.
was it you who started the fight mr. grumpy?
liar
Merry Christmas!
“Bloody Tonks.”
“You know, when I met you guys, I thought you would end up with ‘er.” Behind Charlie, Fleur had appeared on the patio, nursing another mug of coffee and smiling gently.
Charlie shrugged. “So did I, in school.” He wasn't exactly surprised to see her, over the past few years it had become a habit for the two of them to flee the Weasley madness for a quick cigarette on the patio.
Fleur sat down her mug on the rickety bannister in a display of faith Charlie had been incapable of since being pushed through the same railing almost thirty years ago. “May I ask a question?”
Not only Fleur's trust in the Burrow's engineering was disconcerting. “Sure?”
“It's just, I might be misunderstanding something about British law… What's the problem with marrying a man?”
“It's… It’s not a legal thing. - I'm just an arsehole before breakfast.”
Fleur, beautiful, beautiful Fleur who so often played with the stereotypes involved in being a former model, raised an eyebrow and still maintained her naively clueless expression. Charlie shrugged in defiance. “Well it's true! Arsehole, yes, gay, not so much.”
“So you are a bisexual?”
“I guess.” He stared out into the garden, briefly wondering how he'd ended up here and then decided that it probably was due to him being an arsehole, a supreme tosser and stupid to boot. Also he really needed a smoke. “I mean… Sure, I like shagging blokes. Probably better than birds, maybe, but I've never dated one.”
He fumbled for his cigarettes and continued without Fleur even needing to prompt him: “I mean, what's the point?”
“Of dating?”
“Well, I'm not gonna marry him and start a family, am I?”
Fleur shrugged. “You English really are awfully complicated about these things...”
“It's not an English-” Charlie caught himself halfway through the protest. No, it wasn't an English thing. It was, however, very much a Charles Gavin Weasley, Tosser Supreme, kinda thing. “It's just not what want… I just want something normal, is that too much to ask?”
She put one delicate hand over his callussed, freckled one. “I don't think it's enough to ask for, Charlie. You should want everything.”
“Well, as many a Christmas has taught us: You can't get everything you wish for!”
“If you say so.” She gave his hand a short squeeze and let go of it. He missed the warmth almost immediately.
“You make me sound very, very stupid…”
There was a twinkle in her eye that betrayed the solemness of her otherwise flawless expression. “That, you manage on you own just fine.”
Charlie barked a laugh. “If you ever get bored of Bill, will you marry me?”
She pressed a kiss to his cheek and Charlie was going to count that as a yes. “Want one?” He offered her the pack of fags after helping himself.
“No, thank you. I quit.” She sounded almost wistful and Charlie rolled his eyes.
“Traitor,” he decreed, lighting his own cigarette. “Did Bill's nagging finally get to you?” Bill had quit almost two years ago but Fleur had treated his continued lectures on health with marvellous French aloofness. “Or-” Something in her smile gave him pause. “No! You aren't. You are?! Shit!” He hastily stubbed out his cigarette on the railing, knocking over the coffee mug in the process and didn't care one bit.
“Congratulations!” He pulled his tiny sister in law into a bone crushing hug, immediately felt bad about it and then hugged her even tighter. “That's wonderful! Congratulations!”
When he finally let her go she beamed up at him. “We're going to wait until next year with the announcement, though.”
“Sure.”
“Wanna go back inside? The others are probably waiting with the presents.”
“Yeah, yeah. - Bloody hell, I'm so happy for you guys.”
Fleur smiled. “So are we. And, Charlie, my child certainly wouldn't mind another uncle…”
Charlie rolled his eyes. “As if she'd notice one more guy spoiling her rotten.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh bugger off, maternal wisdom's hitting you early, hu?” He held the terrace door open for her and she curtsied when walking past him.
“Well, you be’ave like a five-year-old.”
3. Familienkrise / Beziehungskrise an den Feiertagen
Fandom: Harry Potter
Charaktere: Charlie Weasley/Oliver Wood, Fleur Delacour, assorted Weasleys
Wörter: ~ 1300
Warnung: RomCom AU, WEIHNACHTSKITSCH
A/N: Das Krokodil-AU lässt mir keine Ruhe. Nicht dass es wichtig wäre, das zu wissen. Charlie ist unfähig, hat issues und hat wegen eben diesen nach einer kurzen Beziehung mit Oliver, den er natürlich seiner Familie vorgestellt hatte, Schluss gemacht. - Jetzt ist Weihnachten.
Fun Fact: Das sollte nur eine einleitende Szene für den Austausch von Geschenken werden.
When Charlie stumbled down the stairs on Christmas morning, the whole house was already filled with the smell of freshly baked biscuits and freshly fried bacon, the clanking of of crockery and animated chatter. Despite the fact that only four out of seven Weasley children were present it was almost as loud as Charlie remembered his childhood days. The fact that the missing sons had been effortlessly replaced with a wife, a girlfriend and a fiancé probably helped.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!”, piped Ginny from the kitchen table. Harry, the fiancé-slash-Ron's best friend, at least had the good grace to offer a mug of tea with his overly cheerful greeting. Fleur and Bill were leaning against the counter, each nursing a coffee, each smiling affectionately. Charlie so wasn’t awake enough for those two.
His mother pressed a kiss to his cheek and a platter of eggs into his hands. Gratefully, Charlie returned the kiss and sat down between his father and Hermione. “When are the twins going to arrive?”
“Tomorrow. George’s still at Angelina’s and Fred-” Ron gave a little cough, “is busy at the store, because this isn’t a bank holiday or anything...” He added an exaggerated eye roll, just because he could.
“Traitor,” Charlie declared and ducked away under Bill’s playful swat with practiced ease. “Hey, it’s not my fault you lot are so nicely paired up! I need Fred to wallow in self-pity with!”
“About that, dear,” His mother smiled up from the umpteenth tray of biscuits that was being shoved into the oven. “I’ve been talking to Amos Diggory and you know, his son is a good-looking lad.”
“Mum!” Charlie didn’t even know where to start. “Cedric is… what, Ginny’s age? He’s practically a child!”
“Oy!”
“And, also you don’t need to set me up with every gay bloke you find. Is Cedric even gay?”
“Well, he is dating a woman”, Ron mentioned around a mouthful of toast. “So there’s that.”
“And he’s not that young. Four years older than me, just like Fleur”, Ginny added with the acrid smile that was reserved for stings at her sister in law. Unfortunately, she was just as good as Charlie at avoiding Bill’s disciplinary swats.
Charlie rolled his eyes. “So, not a child, not single and probably not gay. Think I’ll pass, mum.”
“I’m just trying to look out for you,” his mother answered cooly.
Charlie snorted. “By trying to get me laid?! Unconventional, mum, but appreciated.”
“Oh, get your head out of your arse, Char!”
“What about it, Bill?!” Intellectually, Charlie knew this wasn't a conversation to get into on Christmas morning or at the breakfast table with his family or ever, really, but little details like that had never stopped him. “I'm not going to marry some bloke and have his athletic, Scottish babies, that's not how that works!”
“Char…”
“No! If we're really lucky I'll settle for a lovely girl one day but I also stopped believing in Santa Clause quite a while ago!” There was more he wanted, needed to say, possibly involving divorce and buggering off to Sri Lanka, but Bill's hand tightly squeezing his shoulder stopped him.
His father looked up from the paper he'd been reading with a quizzical look at that. “How is Oliver, by the way?”
“Not here now, is he?!”
“Naturally, I would expect him to be in Glasgow with his family, obviously…” His father trailed off after being swatted by Bill. Charlie just shoved a fork full of eggs and bacon into his mouth and started chewing viciously.
Of to great start. First fight over breakfast. Need exit strategy ASAP
was it you who started the fight mr. grumpy?
No!
liar
I hate you.
Merry Christmas!
“Bloody Tonks.”
“You know, when I met you guys, I thought you would end up with ‘er.” Behind Charlie, Fleur had appeared on the patio, nursing another mug of coffee and smiling gently.
Charlie shrugged. “So did I, in school.” He wasn't exactly surprised to see her, over the past few years it had become a habit for the two of them to flee the Weasley madness for a quick cigarette on the patio.
Fleur sat down her mug on the rickety bannister in a display of faith Charlie had been incapable of since being pushed through the same railing almost thirty years ago. “May I ask a question?”
Not only Fleur's trust in the Burrow's engineering was disconcerting. “Sure?”
“It's just, I might be misunderstanding something about British law… What's the problem with marrying a man?”
“It's… It’s not a legal thing. - I'm just an arsehole before breakfast.”
Fleur, beautiful, beautiful Fleur who so often played with the stereotypes involved in being a former model, raised an eyebrow and still maintained her naively clueless expression. Charlie shrugged in defiance. “Well it's true! Arsehole, yes, gay, not so much.”
“So you are a bisexual?”
“I guess.” He stared out into the garden, briefly wondering how he'd ended up here and then decided that it probably was due to him being an arsehole, a supreme tosser and stupid to boot. Also he really needed a smoke. “I mean… Sure, I like shagging blokes. Probably better than birds, maybe, but I've never dated one.”
He fumbled for his cigarettes and continued without Fleur even needing to prompt him: “I mean, what's the point?”
“Of dating?”
“Well, I'm not gonna marry him and start a family, am I?”
Fleur shrugged. “You English really are awfully complicated about these things...”
“It's not an English-” Charlie caught himself halfway through the protest. No, it wasn't an English thing. It was, however, very much a Charles Gavin Weasley, Tosser Supreme, kinda thing. “It's just not what want… I just want something normal, is that too much to ask?”
She put one delicate hand over his callussed, freckled one. “I don't think it's enough to ask for, Charlie. You should want everything.”
“Well, as many a Christmas has taught us: You can't get everything you wish for!”
“If you say so.” She gave his hand a short squeeze and let go of it. He missed the warmth almost immediately.
“You make me sound very, very stupid…”
There was a twinkle in her eye that betrayed the solemness of her otherwise flawless expression. “That, you manage on you own just fine.”
Charlie barked a laugh. “If you ever get bored of Bill, will you marry me?”
She pressed a kiss to his cheek and Charlie was going to count that as a yes. “Want one?” He offered her the pack of fags after helping himself.
“No, thank you. I quit.” She sounded almost wistful and Charlie rolled his eyes.
“Traitor,” he decreed, lighting his own cigarette. “Did Bill's nagging finally get to you?” Bill had quit almost two years ago but Fleur had treated his continued lectures on health with marvellous French aloofness. “Or-” Something in her smile gave him pause. “No! You aren't. You are?! Shit!” He hastily stubbed out his cigarette on the railing, knocking over the coffee mug in the process and didn't care one bit.
“Congratulations!” He pulled his tiny sister in law into a bone crushing hug, immediately felt bad about it and then hugged her even tighter. “That's wonderful! Congratulations!”
When he finally let her go she beamed up at him. “We're going to wait until next year with the announcement, though.”
“Sure.”
“Wanna go back inside? The others are probably waiting with the presents.”
“Yeah, yeah. - Bloody hell, I'm so happy for you guys.”
Fleur smiled. “So are we. And, Charlie, my child certainly wouldn't mind another uncle…”
Charlie rolled his eyes. “As if she'd notice one more guy spoiling her rotten.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh bugger off, maternal wisdom's hitting you early, hu?” He held the terrace door open for her and she curtsied when walking past him.
“Well, you be’ave like a five-year-old.”
no subject
Date: 2018-12-21 07:17 am (UTC)