fic: When Things End Badly (1/1)

[leashy_bebes]

Title: When Things End Badly (1/1)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: James Sirius/Scorpius
Summary: Surveillance duty is never fun. It's even less fun when you're doing it when you and your partner (in the strictly work sense, of course) have spent the last three months ripping each other apart as your relationship collapses.
Notes: Finally written for the first round of marguerite_26's One Plot Many Pairings challenge here. I wanted to write smutty fluff. The boys wanted to angst about their recent breakup. They won.
Disclaimer: JKR's, not mine.
Word Count: ~3000



The surveillance room is exactly that – a single room. There's a Floo connection in one corner, and windows set in two of the walls, no door. The room is in a Muggle block, carefully spelled so that no one notices from the outside that there appears to be an extra flat, which is conveniently invisible from the inside. Opposite the block is a rundown looking pub which people tend to walk past without really noticing. Muggles are unlikely to go into a dilapidated old pub when the bars and clubs of Soho are only a few minutes away, and the Aurors have been working for months to gather information on the illegal Potions ring that seem unusually interested in the property.

When Scorpius Floos in at five to seven in the morning, he freezes and almost backs right out again. Because there at one of the windows, straight backed, his hair freshly cut, is James Potter.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Scorpius asks before he can help himself.

James doesn't look away from the window, just says, "Demonstrating our professionalism. Don't make a fuss."

"I'm supposed to be on duty with Allison."

"She's sick," James informs him. "Did you miss the part where I told you not to make a fuss?"

One plus side of this is that you don't get to patronise me anymore, Scorpius thinks, but he just crosses to the other window and presses his forehead to the cool glass, safe in the knowledge that James can't see him, can't see the way that a single glimpse of him still turns Scorpius upside down.

"Anything?" he asks when he trusts his voice.

"No," James says, and Scorpius feels a sickly familiar lurch of anger. He is so tired of feeling like this.

It's an eight hour shift, he reasons. He'll take it five minutes at a time. He can do anything for a succession of five minutes. He can even share a room with James fucking Potter, never mind that they've spent the last three months falling apart, tearing each other to shreds, no matter that Scorpius aches with the pain of it, of knowing that he is no longer James's, James no longer his.

They settle into an uneasy silence, and even though they're watching different windows, on different walls, Scorpius is horribly aware of James. The short-cropped hair is new, and Scorpius can't help feeling the change like a punch to the gut every time he sees it. He'd loved that hair, that thick chestnut brown mop, loved sinking his hands into it, twirling strands around his fingers, revelling in how different it was from his own fine blond hair. James's Auror robes are draped over the back of his chair, leaving him in just blue jeans and an open-collared black shirt, details picked out in red stitching. That's new as well, and Scorpius feels petulant displeasure at the notion that James has run out to get himself a whole new life just as quickly as possible.

Surveillance is never fun, but it's not usually this bad. They're silent for the first half-hour before James clears his throat.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Scorpius thinks pre-emptively.

"Coffee?" James asks.

"Please," Scorpius says. There's a pause and then James passes him a cup. The coffee's black, two sugars, and Scorpius finds his throat unexpectedly thick. He and James, they were always good at the little things, always terrible at the big things. "Thank you," he says carefully.

"How are you doing?" James asks a bit later, and Scorpius freezes.

Don't you dare, how can you even –

Scorpius decides that a deliberate misunderstanding is probably for the best and says, "Nothing this side."

"Not what I meant," James has the sheer fucking nerve to say, his voice gentle.

"Fuck you," Scorpius snaps. "I'm fine, okay? I'm totally fucking fine with the fact that you chucked me over something we both knew would be an issue when we started this."

He feels stupid immediately, even more so when James lets the silence linger for a moment before he says, "Okay, then."

Scorpius wants to call him on the condescending tone, but it's not worth it, will only lead to a screaming fight (in work hours, no less), or to more of James's patronising bullshit. Scorpius bites his tongue, then finds himself almost chomping right through it when James says,

"I didn't just stop caring overnight, you know?"

He has the audacity to sound wounded, and it makes Scorpius sharp, bitter.

"No? Gradual process, was it?"

"That isn't fair."

Scorpius stares down onto the street. "Forgive me if I'm not overflowing with sympathy," he says, as icily as he can manage.

He hears James give frustrated sigh, and can picture the look on his face perfectly: eyebrows drawn together a little, lips managing to purse disapprovingly and thin in irritation at the same time.

"Look," James says, and Scorpius can feel his hackles rising, just wants to not hear James's voice anymore. "We have to show we can work together – "

"Yeah," Scorpius interrupts. "Work. Not socialise, not get along, and certainly not have fucking ridiculous heart-to-hearts."

"We need to – "

"Nothing," Scorpius snaps. "There is no longer anything we need to do."

"Fine," James says, the edge of a snarl in his voice, and Scorpius can't help feeling savagely glad that he's managed to ruffle James's feathers.

"Fine," he agrees, and it feels hollow. He glances at his watch. Seven hours and thirteen minutes to go.

***

With six hours and thirty five minutes left on the clock, James says, "Hey."

It's obviously business, and Scorpius adjusts the spellwork on the wall next to his window, showing him James's view. There's a man outside the pub, tall, dark hair just peeking out from under a Muggle baseball cap. There's something familiar in his posture.

"Yeah. Yeah, I see him. He was here last week. Cover my view for a second."

"Gotcha."

With a kick, Scorpius wheels his chair over to the filing cabinet and pulls out the relevant papers. He passes them to James, and then returns to his post. Like last time, the man doesn't go inside, just lingers for a few minutes before moving on.

"Picking up a message?" Scorpius suggests.

James mutters distractedly and there's a rustle of paper. "He did something similar last week. Reckon we've got enough to apply for a trace if he shows up again?"

Scorpius thinks for a moment. "Dunno. Take it to legal."

"Alright."

Scorpius hears James scribbling something. At least, despite everything else, work seems to be okay. He doesn't know what he'd have done if this was ruined, as well. He's the last person anyone would expect to be an Auror, and he has a sneaking suspicion that a whole lot of people think he only went down this road because James did it a year earlier, and they'd been inseparable since before either of them sat their OWLs. Possibly half the department is waiting for him to slink off now.

The truth is that Scorpius always loved the idea of the job, but it had taken James's encouragement to make him actually do something about it. Where other people looked at him dubiously, or delicately suggested he might find an easier career elsewhere (easier for someone named Malfoy, of course) James had always given him this ridiculously idealistic speech about people being anything they want to be. Ridiculous, yes, but Scorpius always found that he'd believe any number of ridiculous things if James just looked at him with those earnest eyes and that serious expression.

Scorpius keeps thinking that's the worst thing about this. He thinks it Merlin only knows how many times a day. Right now, with James silent and distant and professional, the worst thing is that Scorpius has lost the one person who believed in him unquestioningly, who encouraged and supported and helped him when times were tough. Scorpius has friends, of course, friends who aren't connected to James and haven't had to make a choice like their mutual acquaintances have done, but that doesn't stop him from feeling so achingly lonely without James.

He tried. That's all the comfort he has now. But the hell of it is that they both tried. It's not like he can even blame James entirely, no matter how much he wants to. It would be easier to be just angry, it would maybe even have been easier if James had left him for someone else. Certainly, it would be easier to hate him. But no. It had fallen apart, and they both had stubborn streaks a mile wide. For a while, that had made them try, but eventually... Well, eventually, stubbornness lead to this.

They'd even gone on a holiday, a last ditch effort to reconnect. After two days in Seville Scorpius thinks they both knew a holiday wasn't going to make a blind bit of difference. They'd spent the rest of the week arguing, avoiding each other, and drinking too much. James hadn't even unpacked on their return, just said, I can't keep making myself miserable for something that died a long time ago.

He'd taken his suitcase and fucked off to his godbrother's house – again – and this time, Scorpius had been so angry, so hurt, so frustrated, that he'd packed up the rest of James's stuff and sent it through the Floo after him. And that had been that.

They see each other at work, in briefings, and of course everyone knows. They used to sit side by side and volunteer to take the same shifts, the same cases, whenever they could. Now, Scorpius sits by the door to make a quick getaway, and they take jobs as unrelated as they possibly can. This is the first time they've been alone together, and doing it like this, in a room not much larger than a cell... It's awful.

Scorpius is focused outside, but he's still aware of James, the familiar rhythm of his breathing, the slight noises as he shifts, leaning his elbows on his knees or crossing one leg over the other. Scorpius glances at his watch.

Five hours and seventeen minutes to go.

***

They get a forty five minute break for lunch. Scorpius is kind of dreading it. They have to perform some pretty intricate spellwork so someone at the department can monitor the views from their windows. Then one of them will leave, get lunch, and return. They're expected to keep at least half an eye on the proceedings outside, but Scorpius knows it'll get awkward very fucking quickly.

There's still four hours and thirty eight minutes to go when James shifts noisily and says, "Break?"

"Yeah, alright."

James doesn't even hesitate to dive through the Floo as soon as the spells are in place. Scorpius gets up and paces the small room. His lungs are itching for fresh air and his skin feels too tight. There should be a way, he thinks desperately, to switch it off, to stop caring, stop aching from the loss of it.

What hurts the most is that once, they were so in love. They were one of those infuriating couples who finished each other's sentences, unconsciously sought each other out in crowded rooms, all that. James's arms used to feel like the safest place in the world, his voice the best sound Scorpius had ever heard, his face the most mesmerising. Oh, fuck, Scorpius misses that feeling, too. That presence in his life, constant and thrilling by turns. And he misses the way he loved James, the way it almost hurt sometimes, because James could be so wonderful.

Like when he stumbles back through the Floo carrying two covered plates, and Scorpius just knows that James's will be fish and chips, while Scorpius's will be a beef stirfry because it's Thursday and he hates the rest of the options in the canteen on a Thursday. Good at the little things, Scorpius thinks again, when James hands him a plate and digs two bottles of water out of his pocket, tapping them with his wand to return them to their normal size.

In an effort to stave off the inevitable awkwardness, Scorpius digs out a book after James hands him the plate, resting them both on the windowsill, hoping to eat as he reads, and successfully ignore James for as many of the remaining thirty nine minutes of the break as possible. His plan is scuppered though, with fifteen minutes left, when James clears his throat and says,

"Look, this is ridiculous."

Scorpius tries to keep hold of his tenuous calm. "I really don't want to have this conversation."

"We're going to have to at some point."

"I don't see why," Scorpius snaps, pushing the remains of his stirfry around on the plate and staring blankly at his book. "It's over, it's shit, and I evidently feel a lot worse about it than you do. What are you going to say that could possibly help?"

"I really wish," James says, and he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, "that you would stop acting like the innocent victim in all of this. We both – This is not just my fault."

"You left?" Scorpius snaps. "You okay?"

"Oh, well pardon me for wanting to carry out our relationship without checking your father's approval every five minutes!"

That hurts, but Scorpius doesn't look round, doesn't take his eyes off his book even though the words are blurring in front of him. "It wasn't like that and you know it."

"It was exactly like that. God, I hate it when you're like this."

"Then why are we even having this conversation?"

James heaves a sigh and Scorpius jolts when James mutters a spell that makes Scorpius's chair spin around, forcing them into eye-contact.

"Because I know what this job means to us both," he says. "My dad said – "

"Right. See, it's interesting how when my father has an opinion, he's an interfering old bigot, but when yours has one, he's a concerned boss."

James scoffs. "For fuck's sake, stop it. Stop jumping on any word I say out of place, and stop this ridiculous semantic – "

"It's not fucking semantics! It's blatant hypocrisy."

"Fine. Fine," James snaps, throwing his hands into the air. "You just sit there and hate me, that'll make you feel a lot better."

"Believe me, that's the plan," Scorpius says coldly.

James scoffs again, dismissive and hurtful, and it's these moments when Scorpius wonders if they ever really knew each other, because he's never known James to be cruel.

"I thought you were a lot of things," James says. "But I never realised you were so fucking immature."

"You're the one who left," Scorpius repeats stubbornly. "Started fucking off to Teddy every time things got difficult."

"Are you joking? It got difficult five bloody years ago!"

Scorpius turns his chair back around, clenching his jaw and glaring out of the window. "I've always admired your drama-queen tendencies, really," he says sarcastically. "It just never gets old, the way it's all or nothing with you."

"Oh, don't pretend you couldn't see it coming from the start," James scoffs.

"W – what?" Scorpius asks, feeling genuinely nonplussed.

"You're – you actually didn't see it coming? Merlin's tits, I think that's even worse!"

The alarm beeps, signalling the end of their break, and Scorpius closes his eyes against a wave of relief when he hears James breathing harshly behind him for a moment, then walking quickly to his own window. The chair squeaks, and Scorpius just breathes, slow, deep.

Three hours and fifty three minutes.

***

James can't leave well enough alone, that's one thing that hasn't changed, probably never will. With a little under two and a half hours left on the clock, he says,

"It was never going to work."

It hurts more than anything.

It would be better if James sounded cold. But he sounds tired and serious instead and Scorpius thought, really thought that the pain had been worst in the days and weeks straight after, but this? This is everything, five years together, closer to ten years of friendship, just gone. Dismissed. It was never going to work.

Maybe James is just being realistic. Maybe they were daft children to think they could ever make a go of it without the world intruding. The obstacles were admittedly massive, and they're still so young, really. Just kids, or at least that's the way Scorpius feels. Too young, too inexperienced, too stupid. Maybe that's why, whether James is being realistic or not, Scorpius still wants to rage, to demand, why then? Why let me build a life and a career and a whole world with you?

He bites his tongue and thinks, no. The thought isn't directed at anything in particular, but all he can think is no, no, no.

"I just think," James goes on a while later, "That there are still things we need to say."

"Merlin's tits, James, who have you been talking to? We're not Muggles. We're certainly not American Muggles. You can say it was never going to last if you want. I didn't think that, but I always knew that if it did end, it wouldn't end well. We can do the work stuff, okay? But just – don't expect any more than that from me. I don't want to be your friend."

The words hang in the air and Scorpius feels a horrible aching emptiness, as though he's just been sick. His words seem to take the wind out of James's sails, but Scorpius doesn't feel glad this time, just tired and sad.

"Alright," James says after a long silence, and he sounds weary, but accepting. "If that's the way it has to be, okay. For what it's worth, I'm sorry it went this way."

Scorpius nods once, sharply, even though James won't be looking his way if he has an ounce of professionalism.

"As am I," he says when he feels like he has his voice mostly under control. "Maybe if we'd – Well. Never mind that."

"It really will be okay," James offers, weak but still heartbreakingly earnest. "It'll get better."

Scorpius isn't sure which one of them James is trying to convince. Scorpius leans his forehead against the cool window pane.

Thirty nine minutes (and the rest of his life) to go.

***

Comments

[leashy-bebes.livejournal.com]

Thanks for reading :) And yeah, poor boys :\ I don't think there's all that much hope for them at the moment, but maybe in the future one day. I dunno, I feel very mean now!